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-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHEYNE MYSTERY ***

-

-

-The Cheyne Mystery

-

-by Freeman Wills Crofts

-

-

-

-Contents

-

-  1  The Episode in the Plymouth Hotel

-  2  Burglary!

-  3  The Launch “Enid”

-  4  Concerning a Peerage

-  5  An Amateur Sleuth

-  6  The House in Hopefield Avenue

-  7  Miss Joan Merrill

-  8  A Council of War

-  9  Mr. Speedwell Plays His Hand

- 10  The New Firm Gets Busy

- 11  Otto Schulz’s Secret

- 12  In the Enemy’s Lair

- 13  Inspector French Takes Charge

- 14  The Clue of the Clay-marked Shoe

- 15  The Torn Hotel Bill

- 16  A Tale of Two Cities

- 17  On the Flood Tide

- 18  A Visitor from India

- 19  The Message of the Tracing

- 20  The Goal of the “L’Escaut”

-

-

-

-Chapter I

-

-The Episode in the Plymouth Hotel

-

-When the White Rabbit in _Alice_ asked where he should begin to read

-the verses at the Knave’s trial the King replied: “Begin at the

-beginning; go on till you come to the end; then stop.”

-

-This would seem to be the last word on the subject of narration in

-general. For the novelist no dictum more entirely complete and

-satisfactory can be imagined—in theory. But in practice it is hard to

-live up to.

-

-Where is the beginning of a story? Where is the beginning of anything?

-No one knows.

-

-When I set myself to consider the actual beginning of Maxwell Cheyne’s

-adventure, I saw at once I should have to go back to Noah. Indeed I

-was not at all sure whether the thing could be adequately explained

-unless I carried back the narrative to Adam, or even further. For

-Cheyne’s adventure hinged not only on his own character and

-environment, brought about by goodness knows how many thousands of

-generations of ancestors, but also upon the contemporaneous history of

-the world, crystallized in the happening of the Great War and all that

-appertained thereto.

-

-So then, in default of the true beginning, let us commence with the

-character and environment of Maxwell Cheyne, following on with the

-strange episode which took place in the Edgecombe Hotel in Plymouth,

-and from which started that extraordinary series of events which I

-have called The Cheyne Mystery.

-

-Maxwell Cheyne was born in 1891, so that when his adventure began in

-the month of March, 1920, he was just twenty-nine. His father was a

-navy man, commander of one of His Majesty’s smaller cruisers, and from

-him the boy presumably inherited his intense love of the sea and of

-adventure. Captain Cheyne had Irish blood in his veins and exhibited

-some of the characteristics of that irritating though lovable race. He

-was a man of brilliant attainments, resourceful, dashing, spirited

-and, moreover, a fine seaman, but a certain impetuosity, amounting at

-times to recklessness, just prevented his attaining the highest rank

-in his profession. In character he was as straight as a die, and

-kindly, generous, and openhanded to a fault, but he was improvident

-and inclined to live too much in the present. And these

-characteristics were destined to affect his son’s life, not only

-directly through heredity, but indirectly through environment also.

-

-When Maxwell was nine his father died suddenly, and then it was found

-that the commander had been living up to his income and had made but

-scant provision for his widow and son and daughter. Dreams of Harrow

-and Cambridge had to be abandoned and, instead, the boy was educated

-at the local grammar school, and then entered the office of a

-Fenchurch Street shipping firm as junior clerk.

-

-In his twentieth year the family fortunes were again reversed. His

-mother came in for a legacy from an uncle, a sheep farmer in

-Australia. It was not a fortune, but it meant a fairly substantial

-competence. Mrs. Cheyne bought back Warren Lodge, their old home, a

-small Georgian house standing in pleasant grounds on the estuary of

-the Dart. Maxwell thereupon threw up his job at the shipping office,

-followed his mother to Devonshire, and settled down to the leisurely

-life of a country gentleman. Among other hobbies he dabbled

-spasmodically in literature, producing a couple of novels, one of

-which was published and sold with fair success.

-

-But the sea was in his blood. He bought a yacht, and with the help of

-the gardener’s son, Dan, sailed her in fair weather and foul, thereby

-gaining skill and judgment in things nautical, as well as a first-hand

-knowledge of the shores and tides and currents of the western portion

-of the English Channel.

-

-Thus it came to pass that when, three years after the return to Devon,

-the war broke out, he volunteered for the navy and was at once

-accepted. There he served with enthusiasm if not with distinction,

-gaining very much the reputation which his father had held before him.

-During the intensive submarine campaign he was wounded in an action

-with a U-boat, which resulted in his being invalided out of the

-service. On demobilization he returned home and took up his former

-pursuits of yachting, literature, and generally having as slack and

-easy a time as his energetic nature would allow. Some eighteen months

-passed, and then occurred the incident which might be said definitely

-to begin his Adventure.

-

-One damp and bleak March day Cheyne set out for Plymouth from Warren

-Lodge, his home on the estuary of the Dart. He wished to make a number

-of small purchases, and his mother and sister had entrusted him with

-commissions. Also he desired to consult his banker as to some question

-of investments. With a full program before him he pulled on his

-oilskins, and having assured his mother he would be back in time for

-dinner, he mounted his motor bicycle and rode off.

-

-In due course he reached Plymouth, left his machine at a garage, and

-set about his business. About one o’clock he gravitated towards the

-Edgecombe Hotel, where after a cocktail he sat down in the lounge to

-rest for a few minutes before lunch.

-

-He was looking idly over _The Times_ when the voice of a page broke in

-on his thoughts.

-

-“Gentleman to see you, sir.”

-

-The card which the boy held out bore in fine script the legend: “Mr.

-Hubert Parkes, Oakleigh, Cleeve Hill, Cheltenham.” Cheyne pondered,

-but he could not recall anyone of the name, and it passed through his

-mind that the page had probably made a mistake.

-

-“Where is he?” he asked.

-

-“Here sir,” the boy answered, and a short, stoutly built man of middle

-age with fair hair and a toothbrush mustache stepped forward. A glance

-assured Cheyne that he was a stranger.

-

-“Mr. Maxwell Cheyne?” the newcomer inquired politely.

-

-“My name, sir. Won’t you sit down?” Cheyne pulled an easy chair over

-towards his own.

-

-“I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you before, Mr. Cheyne,” the

-other went on as he seated himself, “though I knew your father fairly

-intimately. I lived for many years at Valetta, running the Maltese end

-of a produce company with which I was then connected, and I met him

-when his ship was stationed there. A great favorite, Captain Cheyne

-was! The dull old club used to brighten up when he came in, and it

-seemed a national loss when his ship was withdrawn to another

-station.”

-

-“I remember his being in Malta,” Cheyne returned, “though I was quite

-a small boy at the time. My mother has a photograph of Valetta,

-showing his ship lying in the Grand Harbor.”

-

-They chatted about Malta and produce company work therein for some

-minutes, and then Mr. Parkes said:

-

-“Now, Mr. Cheyne, though it is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of

-the son of my old friend, it was not merely with that object that I

-introduced myself. I have, as a matter of fact, a definite piece of

-business which I should like to discuss with you. It takes the form of

-a certain proposition of which I would invite your acceptance, I hope,

-to our mutual advantage.”

-

-Cheyne, somewhat surprised, murmured polite expressions of anxiety to

-hear details and the other went on:

-

-“I think before I explain the thing fully another small matter wants

-to be attended to. What about a little lunch? I’m just going to have

-mine and I shall take it as a favor if you will join me. After that we

-could talk business.”

-

-Cheyne readily agreed and the other called over a waiter and gave him

-an order. “Let us have a cocktail,” he went on, “and by that time

-lunch will be ready.”

-

-They strolled to the bar and there partook of a wonderful American

-concoction recommended by the young lady in charge. Presently the

-waiter reappeared and led the way, somewhat to Cheyne’s surprise, to a

-private room. There an excellent repast was served, to which both men

-did full justice. Parkes proved an agreeable and well informed

-companion and Cheyne enjoyed his conversation. The newcomer had, it

-appeared, seen a good deal of war service, having held the rank of

-major in the department of supply, serving first at Gallipoli and then

-at Salonica. Cheyne knew the latter port, his ship having called there

-on three or four occasions, and the two men found they had various

-experiences in common. Time passed pleasantly until at last Parkes

-drew a couple of arm chairs up to the fire, ordered coffee, and held

-out his cigar case.

-

-“With your permission I’ll put my little proposition now. It is in

-connection with your literary work and I’m afraid it’s bound to sound

-a trifle impertinent. But I can assure you it’s not meant to be so.”

-

-Cheyne smiled.

-

-“You needn’t be afraid of hurting my feelings,” he declared. “I have a

-notion of the real value of my work. Get along anyway and let’s hear.”

-

-Parkes resumed with some hesitation.

-

-“I have to say first that I have read everything that you have

-published and I am immensely impressed by your style. I think you do

-your descriptions extraordinarily well. Your scenes are vivid and one

-feels that one is living through them. There’s money in that, Mr.

-Cheyne, in that gift of vivid and interest-compelling presentation.

-You should make a good thing out of short stories. I’ve worked at them

-for years and I know.”

-

-“Huh. I haven’t found much money in it.”

-

-Parkes nodded.

-

-“I know you haven’t, or rather I guessed so. And if you don’t mind,

-I’ll tell you why.” He sat up and a keener interest crept into his

-manner. “There’s a fault in those stories of yours, a bad fault, and

-it’s in the construction. But let’s leave that for the moment and

-you’ll see where all this is leading.”

-

-He broke off as a waiter arrived with the coffee, resuming:

-

-“Now I have a strong dramatic sense and a good working knowledge of

-literary construction. As I said I’ve also tried short stories, and

-though they’ve not been an absolute failure, I couldn’t say they’ve

-been really successful. On the whole, I should think, yours have done

-better. And I know why. It’s my style. I try to produce a tale, say,

-of a shipwreck. It is intended to be full of human feeling, to grip

-the reader’s emotion. But it doesn’t. It reads like a Board of Trade

-report. Dry, you understand; not interesting. Now, Mr. Cheyne,” he sat

-up in his chair once more, this time almost in excitement, “you see

-what I’m coming to. Why should we not collaborate? Let me do the plots

-and you clothe them. Between us we have all the essentials for

-success.”

-

-He sat back and then saw the coffee.

-

-“I say,” he exclaimed, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t notice this had come.

-I hope it’s not cold.” He felt the coffee pot. “What about a liquor?

-I’ll ring for one. Or rather,” he paused suddenly. “I think I’ve got

-something perhaps even better here.” He put his hand in his pocket and

-drew out a small flask. “Old Cognac,” he said. “You’ll try a little?”

-

-He poured some of the golden brown liquid into Cheyne’s cup and was

-about to do the same into his own when he was seized with a sudden fit

-of choking coughing. He had to put down the flask while he quivered

-and shook with the paroxysm. Presently he recovered, breathless.

-

-“Since I was wounded,” he gasped apologetically, “I’ve been taken like

-that. The doctors say it’s purely nervous—that my throat and lungs and

-so on are perfectly sound. Strange the different ways this war leaves

-its mark!”

-

-He picked up the flask, poured a liberal measure of its contents into

-his own cup, drank off the contents with evident relish and continued:

-

-“What I had in my mind, if you’ll consider it, was a series of short

-stories—say a dozen—on the merchant marine in the war. This is the

-spring of 1920. Soon no one will read anything connected with the war,

-but I think that time has scarcely come yet. I have fair knowledge of

-the subject and yours of course is first hand. What do you say? I will

-supply twelve plots or incidents and you will clothe them with, say,

-five thousand words each. We shall sell them to _The Strand_ or some

-of those monthlies, and afterwards publish them as a collection in

-book form.”

-

-“By Jove!” Cheyne said as he slowly sipped his coffee. “The idea’s

-rather tempting. But I wish I could feel as sure as you seem to do

-about my own style. I’m afraid I don’t believe that it is as good as

-you pretend.”

-

-“Mr. Cheyne,” Parkes answered deliberately, “you may take my word for

-it that I know what I am talking about. I shouldn’t have come to you

-if I weren’t sure. Very few people are satisfied with their own work.

-No matter how good it is it falls short of the standard they have set

-in their minds. It is another case in which the outsider sees most of

-the game.”

-

-Cheyne felt attracted by the proposal. He had written in all seventeen

-short stories, and of these only three had been accepted, and those by

-inferior magazines. If it would lead to success he would be only too

-delighted to collaborate with this pleasant stranger. It wasn’t so

-much the money—though he was not such a fool as to make light of that

-part of it. It was success he wanted, acceptance of his stuff by good

-periodicals, a name and a standing among his fellow craftsmen.

-

-“Let’s see what it would mean,” he heard Parkes’s voice, and it seemed

-strangely faint and distant. “I suppose, given the synopses, you could

-finish a couple of tales per week—say, six weeks for the lot. And with

-luck we should sell for £50 to £100 each—say £500 for your six week’s

-work, or nearly £100 per week. And there might be any amount more for

-the book rights, filming and so on. Does the idea appeal to you, Mr.

-Cheyne?”

-

-Cheyne did not reply. He was feeling sleepy. Did the idea appeal to

-him? Yes. No. Did it? Did the idea . . . the idea . . . Drat this

-sleepiness! What was he thinking of? Did the idea . . . What

-idea? . . . He gave up the struggle and, leaning back in his chair,

-sank into a profound and dreamless slumber.

-

-Ages of time passed and Cheyne slowly struggled back into

-consciousness. As soon as he was sufficiently awake to analyze his

-sensations he realized that his brain was dull and clouded and his

-limbs heavy as lead. He was, however, physically comfortable, and he

-was content to allow his body to remain relaxed and motionless and his

-mind to dream idly on without conscious thought. But his energy

-gradually returned and at last he opened his eyes.

-

-He was lying, dressed, on a bed in a strange room. Apparently it was

-night, for the room was dark save for the light on the window blind

-which seemed to come from a street lamp without. Vaguely interested,

-he closed his eyes again, and when he reopened them the room was

-lighted up and a man was standing beside the bed.

-

-“Ah,” the man said, “you’re awake. Better, I hope?”

-

-“I don’t know,” Cheyne answered, and it seemed to him as if some one

-else was speaking. “Have I been ill?”

-

-“No,” the man returned, “Not that I know of. But you’ve slept like a

-log for nearly six hours.”

-

-This was confusing. Cheyne paused to take in the idea, but it eluded

-him, then giving up the effort, he asked another question.

-

-“Where am I?”

-

-“In the Edgecombe: the Edgecombe Hotel, you know, in Plymouth. I am

-the manager.”

-

-Ah, yes! It was coming back to him. He had gone there for lunch—was it

-today or a century ago?—and he had met that literary man—what was his

-name? He couldn’t remember. And they had had lunch and the man had

-made some suggestion about his writing. Yes, of course! It was all

-coming back now. The man had wanted to collaborate with him. And

-during the conversation he had suddenly felt sleepy. He supposed he

-must have fallen asleep then, for he remembered nothing more. But why

-had he felt sleepy like that? Suddenly his brain cleared and he sat up

-sharply.

-

-“What’s happened, Mr. Jesse? I never did anything like this before!”

-

-“No?” the manager answered. “I dare say not. I’ll tell you what has

-happened to you, Mr. Cheyne, though I’m sorry to have to admit it

-could have taken place in my hotel. You’ve been drugged. That’s what

-has happened.”

-

-Cheyne stared incredulously.

-

-“Good Lord!” he ejaculated. “Drugged! By—not by that literary man,

-surely?” He paused in amazed consternation and then his hand flew to

-his pocket. “My money,” he gasped. “I had over £100 in my pocket. Just

-got it at the bank.” He drew out a pocket-book and examined it

-hurriedly. “No,” he went on more quietly. “It’s all right.” He took

-from it a bundle of notes and with care counted them. “A hundred and

-eight pounds. That’s quite correct. My watch? No, it’s here.” He got

-up unsteadily, and rapidly went through his pockets. “Nothing missing

-anyway. Are you sure I was drugged? I don’t understand the thing a

-little bit.”

-

-“I am afraid there is no doubt about it. You seemed so ill that I sent

-for a doctor. He said you were suffering from the effects of a drug,

-but were in no danger and would be all right in a few hours. He

-advised that you be left quietly to sleep it off.”

-

-Cheyne rubbed his hand over his eyes.

-

-“I can’t understand it,” he repeated. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

-

-“About three o’clock or shortly before it, Mr. Parkes appeared at the

-office and asked for his bill. He paid it, complimented the clerk on

-the excellent lunch he had had, and left the hotel. He was perfectly

-calm and collected and quite unhurried. Shortly after the waiter went

-up to clear away the things and he found you lying back in your chair,

-apparently asleep, but breathing so heavily that he was uneasy and he

-came and told me. I went up at once and was also rather alarmed at

-your condition, so I sent at once for the doctor.”

-

-“But,” Cheyne objected, “that’s all right, only I _wasn’t_ drugged. I

-know exactly what I ate and drank, and Parkes had precisely the same.

-If I was drugged, he must have been also, and you say he wasn’t.”

-

-“He certainly was not. But think again, Mr. Cheyne. Are you really

-quite certain that he had no opportunity of putting powder over your

-food or liquid into your drink? Did he divert your attention at any

-time from the table?”

-

-Cheyne was silent. He had remembered the flask of old brandy.

-

-“He put cognac in my coffee from his own flask,” he admitted at

-length, “but it couldn’t have been that.”

-

-“Ah,” the manager answered in a satisfied tone, “it _was_ that, I

-should swear. Why don’t you think so?”

-

-“I’ll tell you why I don’t think so; why, in fact, I know it wasn’t.

-He put an even larger dose out of the same flask into his own cup and

-he drank his coffee before I drank mine. So that if there was anything

-in the flask he would have got knocked over first.”

-

-The manager looked puzzled.

-

-“Don’t think me discourteous, Mr. Cheyne, but I confess I have my

-doubts about that. That episode of the flask looks too suspicious. Are

-you sure it was the same flask in each case? Did he pour straight into

-one cup after the other or was there an interval in between? You

-realize of course that a clever conjurer could substitute a second

-flask for the first without attracting your notice?”

-

-“I realize that right enough, but I am positive he didn’t do so in

-this case. Though,” he paused for a moment, “that reminds me that

-there was an interval between pouring into each cup. He got a fit of

-coughing after giving me mine and had to put down the flask. But when

-the paroxysm was over he lifted it again and helped himself.”

-

-“There you are,” the manager declared. “During his fit of coughing he

-substituted a different flask.”

-

-“I’ll swear he didn’t. But can’t we settle the thing beyond doubt?

-Have the cups been washed? If not, can’t we get the dregs analyzed?”

-

-“I have already asked the doctor to have it done. He said he would get

-Mr. Pringle to do it at once: that’s the city analyst. They’re close

-friends, and Mr. Pringle would do it to oblige him. We should have his

-report quite soon. I am also having him analyze the remains on the

-plates which were used. Fortunately, owing to lunch being served in a

-private room, these had been stacked together and none had been

-washed. So we should be able to settle the matter quite definitely.”

-

-Cheyne nodded as he glanced at his watch. “Good Lord!” he cried, “it’s

-eight o’clock and I said I should be home by seven! I must ring up my

-mother or she’ll think something is wrong.”

-

-The Cheynes had not themselves a telephone, but their nearest

-neighbors, people called Hazelton, were good-natured about receiving

-an occasional message through theirs and transmitting it to Warren

-Lodge. Cheyne went down to the lounge and put through his call,

-explaining to Mrs. Hazelton that unforeseen circumstances had

-necessitated his remaining overnight in Plymouth. The lady promised to

-have the message conveyed to Mrs. Cheyne and Maxwell rang off. Then as

-he turned to the dining room, a page told him that the manager would

-like to see him in his office.

-

-“I’ve just got a report from the doctor about that coffee, Mr.

-Cheyne,” the other greeted him, “and I must say it confirms what you

-say, though it by no means clears up the mystery. There was brandy in

-those cups, but no drug: no trace of a drug in either.”

-

-“I knew that,” Cheyne rejoined. “Everything that I had for lunch

-Parkes had also. I was there and I ought to know. But it’s a bit

-unsettling, isn’t it? Looks as if my heart or something had gone

-wrong.”

-

-The manager looked at him more seriously. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he

-dissented. “I don’t think you can assume that. The doctor seemed quite

-satisfied. But if it would ease your mind, why not slip across now and

-see him? He lives just round the corner.”

-

-Cheyne reflected.

-

-“I’ll do so,” he answered presently. “If there’s nothing wrong it will

-prevent me fancying things, and if there is I should know of it. I’ll

-have some dinner and then go across. By the way, have you said

-anything to the police?”

-

-The manager hesitated.

-

-“No, I have not. I don’t know that we’ve evidence enough. But in any

-case, Mr. Cheyne, I trust you do not wish to call in the police.” The

-manager seemed quite upset by the idea and spoke earnestly. “It would

-not do the hotel any good if it became known that a visitor had been

-drugged. I sincerely trust, sir, that you can see your way to keep the

-matter quiet.”

-

-Cheyne stared.

-

-“But you surely don’t suggest that I should take the thing lying down?

-If I have been drugged, as you say, I must know who has done it, and

-why. That would seem to me obvious.”

-

-“I agree,” the manager admitted, “and I should feel precisely the same

-in your place. But it is not necessary to apply to the police. A

-private detective would get you the information quite as well. See

-here, Mr. Cheyne, I will make you an offer. If you will agree to the

-affair being hushed up, I will employ the detective on behalf of the

-hotel. He will work under your direction and keep you advised of every

-step he takes. Come now, sir, is it a bargain?”

-

-Cheyne did not hesitate.

-

-“Why, yes,” he said promptly, “that will suit me all right. I don’t

-specially want to advertise the fact that I have been made a fool of.

-But I’d like to know what has really happened.”

-

-“You shall, Mr. Cheyne. No stone shall be left unturned to get at the

-truth. I’ll see about a detective at once. You’ll have some dinner,

-sir?”

-

-Cheyne was not hungry, but he was very thirsty, and he had a light

-meal with a number of long drinks. Then he went round to see the

-doctor, to whom the manager had telephoned, making an appointment.

-

-After a thorough examination he received the verdict. It was a relief

-to his mind, but it did not tend to clear up the mystery. He was

-physically perfectly sound, and his sleep of the afternoon was not the

-result of disease or weakness. He had been drugged. That was the

-beginning and the end of the affair. The doctor was quite emphatic and

-ridiculed the idea of any other explanation.

-

-Cheyne returned to the Edgecombe, and sitting down in a deserted

-corner of the lounge, tried to puzzle the thing out. But the more he

-thought of it, the more mysterious it became. His mind up till then

-had been concentrated on the actual administration of the drug, and

-this point alone still seemed to constitute an insoluble problem. But

-now he saw that it was but a small part of the mystery. _Why_ had he

-been drugged? It was not robbery. Though he had over £100 in his

-pocket, the money was intact. He had no other valuables about him, and

-in any case nothing had been removed from his pockets. It was not to

-prevent his going to any place. He had not intended to do anything

-that afternoon that could possibly interest a stranger. No, he could

-form no conception of the motive.

-

-But even more puzzling than this was the question: How did Parkes, if

-that was really his name, know that he, Cheyne, was coming to Plymouth

-that day? It was true that he had mentioned it to his mother and

-sister a couple of days previously, but he had told no one else and he

-felt sure that neither had they. But the man had almost certainly been

-expecting him. At least it was hard to believe that the whole episode

-had been merely the fruits of a chance encounter. On the other hand

-there was the difficulty that any other suggestion seemed even more

-unlikely. Parkes simply _couldn’t_ have known that he, Cheyne, was

-coming. It was just inconceivable.

-

-He lay back in his deep armchair, the smoke of his pipe curling lazily

-up, as he racked his brains for some theory which would at least

-partially meet the facts. But without success. He could think of

-nothing which threw a gleam of light on the situation.

-

-And then he made a discovery which still further befogged him and made

-him swear with exasperation. He had taken out his pocket-book and was

-once more going through its contents to make absolutely sure nothing

-was missing, when he came to a piece of folded paper bearing memoranda

-about the money matters which he had discussed with his banker. He had

-not opened this when he had looked through the book after regaining

-consciousness, but now half absent-mindedly he unfolded it. As he did

-so he stared. Near the crease was a slight tear, unquestionably made

-by some one unfolding it hurriedly or carelessly. But that tear had

-not been there when he had folded it up. He could swear to it. Someone

-therefore had been through his pockets while he was asleep.

-

-

-

-Chapter II

-

-Burglary!

-

-The discovery that his pockets had been gone through while he was

-under the influence of the drug reduced Cheyne to a state of even more

-complete mystification than ever. What _had_ the unknown been looking

-for? He, Cheyne, had nothing with him that, so far as he could

-imagine, could possibly have interested any other person. Indeed,

-money being ruled out, he did not know that he possessed anywhere any

-paper or small object which it would be worth a stranger’s while to

-steal.

-

-Novels he had read recurred to him in which desperate enterprises were

-undertaken to obtain some document of importance. Plans of naval or

-military inventions which would give world supremacy to the power

-possessing them were perhaps the favorite instruments in these

-romances, but treaties which would mean war if disclosed to the wrong

-power, maps of desert islands on which treasure was buried, wills of

-which the existence was generally unknown and letters compromising the

-good name of wealthy personages had all been used time and again. But

-Cheyne had no plans or treaties or compromising letters from which an

-astute thief might make capital. Think as he would, he could frame no

-theory to account for Parkes’s proceedings.

-

-He yawned and, getting up, began to pace the deserted lounge. The

-effects of the drug had not entirely worn off, for though he had slept

-all the afternoon he still felt slack and drowsy. In spite of its

-being scarcely ten o’clock, he thought he would have a whisky and go

-up to bed, in the hope that a good night’s rest would drive the poison

-out of his system and restore his usual feeling of mental and physical

-well-being.

-

-But Fate, once more in the guise of an approaching page, decreed

-otherwise. As he turned lazily towards the bar a voice sounded in his

-ear.

-

-“Wanted on the telephone, sir.”

-

-Cheyne crossed the hall and entered the booth.

-

-“Well?” he said shortly. “Cheyne speaking.”

-

-A woman’s voice replied, a voice he recognized. It belonged to Ethel

-Hazelton, the grown-up daughter of that Mrs. Hazelton whom he had

-asked to inform Mrs. Cheyne of his change of plans. She spoke

-hurriedly and he could sense perturbation in her tones.

-

-“Oh, Mr. Cheyne, I’m afraid I have rather disturbing news for you.

-When you rang up we sent James over to Warren Lodge. He found Mrs.

-Cheyne and Agatha on the doorstep trying to get in. They had been

-ringing for some time, but could not attract attention. He rang also,

-and then eventually found a ladder and got in through one of the upper

-windows. He opened the door for Mrs. Cheyne and Agatha. Can you hear

-me all right?”

-

-“Yes, clearly. Go on, please, Miss Hazelton.”

-

-“They searched the house and they discovered cook and Susan in their

-bedrooms, both tied up and gagged, but otherwise none the worse. They

-released them, of course, and then found that the house had been

-burgled.”

-

-“Burgled!” Cheyne ejaculated sharply. “Great Scott!” He was

-considerably startled and paused in some consternation, asking then if

-much stuff was missing.

-

-“They don’t know,” the distant voice answered. “Your safe had been

-opened, but they hadn’t had time to make an examination when James

-left. The silver seems to be all there, so that’s something. James

-came back here with a message from Mrs. Cheyne asking us to let you

-know, and I have been ringing up hotels in Plymouth for the last half

-hour. You know, you only said you were staying the night in your

-message; you didn’t say where. Mrs. Cheyne would like you to come back

-if you can manage it.”

-

-There was no hesitation about Cheyne’s reply.

-

-“Of course I shall,” he said quickly. “I’ll start at once on my

-bicycle. What about telling the police?”

-

-“I rang them up immediately. They said they would go out at once.

-James has gone back also. He will stay and lend a hand until you

-arrive.”

-

-“Splendid! It’s more than good of you both, Miss Hazelton. I can’t

-thank you enough. I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

-

-He delayed only to tell the news to the manager.

-

-“There’s the explanation of this afternoon’s affair at all events,” he

-declared. “I was evidently fixed up so that I couldn’t butt in and

-spoil sport. But it’s good-bye to your keeping it quiet. The police

-have been called in already and the whole thing is bound to come out.”

-

-The manager made a gesture of concern.

-

-“I’m sorry to hear your news,” he said gravely. “Are you properly

-insured?”

-

-“Partially. I don’t know if it will cover the loss because I don’t

-know what’s gone. But I must be getting away.”

-

-He was moving off, but the manager laid a detaining hand on his arm.

-

-“Well, I’m extremely sorry about it. But see here, Mr. Cheyne, it may

-not prove to be necessary to bring in about the drugging. It would

-injure the hotel. I sincerely trust you’ll do what you can in the

-matter, and if you find the private detective sufficient, you’ll let

-our arrangement stand.”

-

-“I’ll decide when I hear just what has happened. You’ll let me have a

-copy of the analyst’s report?”

-

-“Of course. Directly I get it I shall send it on.”

-

-Fifteen minutes later Cheyne was passing through the outskirts of

-Plymouth on his way east. The night was fine, the mists of the day

-having cleared away, and a three-quarter moon shone brilliantly out of

-a blue-black sky. Keenly anxious to reach home and learn the details

-of the burglary and the extent of his loss, Cheyne crammed on every

-ounce of power, and his machine snored along the deserted road at well

-over forty miles an hour. In spite of slacks for villages and curves

-he made a record run, turning into the gate of Warren Lodge at just

-ten minutes before eleven.

-

-As he approached the house everything looked normal. But when he let

-himself in this impression was dispelled, for a constable stood in the

-hall, who, saluting, informed him that Sergeant Kirby was within and

-in charge.

-

-But Cheyne’s first concern was with his mother and sister. An inquiry

-produced the information that the two ladies were waiting for him in

-the drawing room, and thither he at once betook himself.

-

-Mrs. Cheyne was a frail little woman who looked ten years older than

-her age of something under sixty. She welcomed her son with a little

-cry of pleasure.

-

-“Oh, I am relieved to see you, Maxwell,” she cried. “I’m so glad you

-were able to come. Isn’t this a terrible business?”

-

-“I don’t know, mother,” Cheyne answered cheerily, “that depends. I

-hear no one is any the worse. Has much stuff been stolen?”

-

-“Nothing!” Mrs. Cheyne’s tone conveyed the wonder she evidently felt.

-“Nothing whatever! Or at least we can’t find that anything is

-missing.”

-

-“Unless something may have been taken from your safe,” Agatha

-interposed. “Was there much in it?”

-

-“No, only a few pounds and some papers, none valuable to an outsider.”

-He glanced at his sister. She was a pretty girl, tall and dark and in

-features not unlike himself. Both the young people had favored the

-late commander’s side of the house. He turned towards the door,

-continuing: “I’ll go and have a look, and then you can tell me what

-has happened.”

-

-The safe was built into the wall in his own sanctum, “the study,” as

-his mother persisted in calling it. It had been taken over with the

-house when Mrs. Cheyne bought the little estate. As Cheyne now entered

-he saw that its doors were standing open. A tall man in the uniform of

-a sergeant of police was stooping over it. He turned as he heard the

-newcomer’s step.

-

-“Good-evening sir,” he said in an impressive tone. “This is a bad

-business.”

-

-“Oh, well, I don’t know, sergeant,” Cheyne answered easily. “If no one

-has been hurt and nothing has been stolen it might have been worse.”

-

-The sergeant stared at him with some disfavor.

-

-“There’s not much but what might have been worse,” he observed

-oracularly. “But we’re not sure yet that nothing’s been stolen. Nobody

-knows what was in this here safe, except maybe yourself. I’d be glad

-if you’d have a look and see if anything is gone.”

-

-There was very little in the safe and it did not take Cheyne many

-seconds to go through it. The papers were tossed about—he could swear

-someone had turned them over—but none seemed to have been removed. The

-small packet of Treasury notes was intact and a number of gold and

-silver medals, won in athletic contests, were all in evidence.

-

-“Nothing missing there, sergeant,” he declared when he had finished.

-

-His eye wandered round the room. There was not much of value in it;

-one or two silver bowls—athletic trophies also, a small gold clock of

-Indian workmanship, a pair of high-power prism binoculars and a few

-ornaments were about all that could be turned into money. But all

-these were there, undisturbed. It was true that the glass door of a

-locked bookcase had been broken to enable the bolt to be unfastened

-and the doors opened, but none of the books seemed to have been

-touched.

-

-“What do you think they were after, sir?” the sergeant queried. “Was

-there any jewelry in the house that they might have heard of?”

-

-“My mother has a few trinkets, but I scarcely think you could dignify

-them by the name of jewelry. I suppose these precious burglars have

-left no kind of clue?”

-

-“No, sir, nothing. Except maybe the girls’ description. I’ve

-telephoned that into headquarters and the men will be on the lookout.”

-

-“Good. Well, if you can wait here a few minutes I’ll go and send my

-mother to bed and then I’ll come back and we can settle what’s to be

-done.”

-

-Cheyne returned to the drawing room and told his news. “Nothing’s been

-taken,” he declared. “I’ve been through the safe and everything’s

-there. And nothing seems to be missing from the room either. The

-sergeant was asking about your jewels, mother. Have you looked to see

-if they’re all right?”

-

-“It was the first thing I thought of, but they are all in their

-places. The cabinet I keep them in was certainly examined, for

-everything was left topsy-turvy, but nothing is missing.”

-

-“Very extraordinary,” Cheyne commented. It seemed to him more than

-ever clear that these mysterious thieves were after some document

-which they believed he had, though why they should have supposed he

-held a valuable document he could not imagine. But the searching first

-of his pockets and then of his safe and house unmistakably suggested

-such a conclusion. He wondered if he should advance this theory, then

-decided he would first hear what the others had to say.

-

-“Now, mother,” he went on, “it’s past your bedtime, but before you go

-I wish you would tell me what happened to you. Remember I have heard

-no details other than what Miss Hazelton mentioned on the telephone.”

-

-Mrs. Cheyne answered with some eagerness, evidently anxious to relieve

-her mind by relating her experiences.

-

-“The first thing was the telegram,” she began. “Agatha and I were

-sitting here this afternoon. I was sewing and Agatha was reading the

-paper—or was it the _Spectator_, Agatha?”

-

-“The paper, mother, though that does not really matter.”

-

-“No, of course it doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Cheyne repeated. It was

-evident the old lady had had a shock and found it difficult to

-concentrate her attention. “Well, at all events we were sitting here

-as I have said, sewing and reading, when your telegram was brought

-in.”

-

-“_My_ telegram?” Cheyne queried sharply. “What telegram do you mean?”

-

-“Why, your telegram about Mr. Ackfield, of course,” his mother

-answered with some petulance. “What other telegram could it be? It did

-not give us much time, but—”

-

-“But, mother dear, I don’t know what you are talking about. I sent no

-telegram.”

-

-Agatha made a sudden gesture.

-

-“There!” she exclaimed eagerly. “What did I say? When we came home and

-learned what had happened and thought of your not turning up,” she

-glanced at her brother, “I said it was only a blind. It was sent to

-get us away from the house!”

-

-Cheyne shrugged his shoulders good-humoredly. What he had half

-expected had evidently taken place.

-

-“Dear people,” he protested, “this is worse than getting blood from a

-stone. Do tell me what has happened. You were sitting here this

-afternoon when you received a telegram. Very well now, what time was

-that?”

-

-“What time? Oh, about—what time did the telegram come, Agatha?”

-

-“Just as the clock was striking four. I heard it strike immediately

-after the ring.”

-

-“Good,” said Cheyne in what he imagined was the manner of a

-cross-examining K.C. “And what was in the telegram?”

-

-The girl was evidently too much upset by her experience to resent his

-superior tone. She crossed the room, and taking a flimsy pink form

-from a table, handed it over to him.

-

-The telegram had been sent out from the General Post Office in

-Plymouth at 3:17 that afternoon, and read:

-

-  You and Agatha please come without fail to Newton Abbot by 5:15

-  train to meet self and Ackfield about unexpected financial

-  development. Urgent that you sign papers today. Ackfield will return

-  Plymouth after meeting. You and I will catch 7:10 home from Newton

-  Abbot — MAXWELL.

-

-Three-seventeen; and Parkes left the Edgecombe about three! It seemed

-pretty certain that he had sent the telegram. But if so, what an

-amazing amount the man knew about them all! Not only had he known of

-Cheyne’s war experiences and literary efforts and of his visit that

-day to the Edgecombe, but now it seemed that he had also known his

-address, of his mother and sister, and, most amazing thing of all, of

-the fact that Mr. Ackfield of Plymouth was their lawyer and

-confidential adviser! Moreover, he had evidently known that the ladies

-were at home as well as that they alone comprised the family. Surely,

-Cheyne thought, comparatively few people possessed all this knowledge,

-and the finding of Parkes should therefore be a correspondingly easy

-task.

-

-“Extraordinary!” he said aloud. “And what did you do?”

-

-“We got a taxi,” Mrs. Cheyne answered. “Agatha arranged it by

-telephone from Mrs. Hazelton’s. You tell him, Agatha. I’m rather

-tired.”

-

-The old lady indeed looked worn out and Cheyne interposed a suggestion

-that she should go at once to bed, leaving Agatha to finish the story.

-But she refused and her daughter took up the tale.

-

-“We caught the 5:15 ferry and went on to Newton Abbot. But when the

-Plymouth train came in there was no sign of you or Mr. Ackfield, so we

-sat in the waiting-room until the 7:10. I telephoned for a taxi to

-meet the ferry. It brought us to the door about half-past eight, but

-unfortunately it went away before we found we couldn’t get in.”

-

-“You rang?”

-

-“We rang, and knocked, but could get no answer. The house was in

-darkness and we began to fear something was wrong. Then just as I was

-about to leave mother in the summer-house and run up to the Hazeltons’

-to see if James was there, he appeared to say that you were staying in

-Plymouth overnight. He rang and knocked again. But still no one came.

-Then he tried the windows on the ground floor, but they were all

-fastened, and at last he got the ladder from the yard and managed to

-get in through the window of your dressing room. He came down and

-opened the door and we got in.”

-

-“And what did you find?”

-

-“Nothing at first. We wondered where the maids could possibly have got

-to, or what could have happened. I found your electric torch and we

-began to search the rooms. Then we saw that your safe had been broken

-open and we knew it was burglary. That terrified us on account of the

-maids and we wondered if they had been decoyed away also. I don’t mind

-admitting now that I was just shaking with fear lest we should find

-that they had been injured or even murdered. But it wasn’t so bad as

-that.”

-

-“They were tied up?”

-

-“Yes, we found them in cook’s bedroom, lying on the floor with their

-hands and feet tied, and gagged. They were both very weak and could

-scarcely stand when we released them. They told us—but you’d better

-see them and hear what they have to say. They’re not gone to bed yet.”

-

-“Yes, I’ll see them directly. What did you do then?”

-

-“As soon as we were satisfied the burglars had gone James went home to

-call up the police. Then he came back and we began a second search to

-see what had been stolen. But the more we looked, the more surprised

-we became. We couldn’t find that anything had been taken.”

-

-“Extraordinary!” Cheyne commented again. “And then?”

-

-“After a time the police came out, and then James went home again to

-see whether they had been able to get in touch with you. He came back

-and told us you would be here by eleven. He had only just gone when

-you arrived. I really can’t say how kind and helpful he has been.”

-

-“Yes, James is a good fellow. Now you and mother get to bed and I’ll

-fix things up with the police.”

-

-He turned his steps to the kitchen, where he found the two maids

-shivering over a roaring fire and drinking tea. They stood up as he

-entered, but he told them to sit down again, asked for a cup for

-himself, and seating himself on the table chatted pleasantly before

-obtaining their statements. They had evidently had a bad fright and

-cook still seemed hysterical. As he sat he looked at them curiously.

-

-Cook was an elderly woman, small and plain and stout. She had been

-with them since they had bought the house, and though he had not seen

-much of her, she had always seemed good-tempered and obliging. He had

-heard his mother speak well of her and he was sorry she should have

-had so distressing an experience. But he didn’t fancy she would be one

-to give burglars much trouble.

-

-Susan, the parlormaid, was of a different quality. She was tall with

-rather heavy features, and good looking after a somewhat coarse type.

-If a trifle sullen in manner, she was competent and by no means a

-fool, and he felt that nefarious marauders would find her a force to

-be reckoned with.

-

-By dint of patient questioning he presently knew all they had to tell.

-It appeared that shortly after the ladies had left a ring had come at

-the door. Susan had opened it to find two men standing outside. One

-was tall and powerfully built, with dark hair and clean shaven, the

-other small and pale—pale face, pale hair, and tiny pale mustache.

-They had inquired for Mr. Maxwell Cheyne, and when she had said he was

-out the small man had asked if he could write a note. She had brought

-them into the hall and was turning to go for some paper when the big

-man had sprung on her and before she could cry out had pressed a

-handkerchief over her mouth. The small man had shut the door and begun

-to tie her wrists and ankles. Susan had struggled and in spite of them

-had succeeded in getting her mouth free and shouting a warning to

-cook, but she had been immediately overpowered and securely gagged.

-The men had laid her on the floor of the hall and had seemed about to

-go upstairs when cook, attracted by Susan’s cry, had appeared at the

-door leading to the back premises. The two men had instantly rushed

-over, and in a few seconds cook also lay bound and gagged on the

-floor. They had then disappeared, apparently to search the house, for

-in a few minutes they had come back and carried first Susan and then

-cook to the latter’s room at the far end of the back part of the

-house. The intruders had then withdrawn, closing the door, and the two

-women had neither heard nor seen anything further of them.

-

-The whole episode had a curious effect on Cheyne. It seemed, as he

-considered it, to lose its character of an ordinary breach of the law,

-punishable by the authorized forces of the Crown, and to take on

-instead that of a personal struggle between himself and these unknown

-men. The more he thought of it the more inclined he became to accept

-the challenge and to pit his own brain and powers against theirs. The

-mysterious nature of the affair appealed to his sporting instincts,

-and by the time he rejoined the sergeant in the study, he had made up

-his mind to keep his own counsel as to the Plymouth incident. He would

-call up the manager of the Edgecombe, tell him to carry on with his

-private detective, and have the latter down to Warren Lodge to go into

-the matter of the burglary.

-

-He found the sergeant attempting ineffectively to discover

-finger-prints on the smooth walls of the safe, sympathized with him in

-the difficulty of his task, and asked a number of deliberately futile

-questions. On the ground that nothing had been stolen he minimized the

-gravity of the affair, questioned his power to prosecute should the

-offenders be forthcoming, and instilled doubts into the other’s mind

-as to the need for special efforts to run them to earth. Finally, the

-man explaining that he had finished for the time being, he bade him

-good night, locked up the house and went to bed. There he lay for

-several hours tossing and turning as he puzzled over the affair,

-before sleep descended to blot out his worries and soothe his eager

-desire to be on the track of his enemies.

-

-

-

-Chapter III

-

-The Launch “Enid”

-

-For several days after the attempted burglary events in the Cheyne

-household pursued the even tenor of their way. Cheyne went back to

-Plymouth on the following morning and interviewed the manager of the

-Edgecombe, and the day after a quiet, despondent-looking man with the

-air of a small shopkeeper arrived at Warren Lodge and was closeted

-with Cheyne for a couple of hours. Mr. Speedwell, of Horton and

-Lavender’s Private Detective Agency, listened with attention to the

-tales of the drugging and the burglary, thenceforward appearing at

-intervals and making mysterious inquiries on his own account.

-

-On one of these visits he brought with him the report of the analyst

-relative to the dishes of which Cheyne had partaken at lunch, but this

-document only increased the mystification the affair had caused. No

-trace of drugs was discernible in any of the food or drink in

-question, and as the soiled plates or glasses or cups of _all_ the

-courses were available for examination, the question of how the drug

-had been administered—or alternatively whether it really had been

-administered—began to seem almost insoluble. The cocktail taken with

-Parkes before lunch was the only item of which a portion could not be

-analyzed, but the evidence of the barmaid proved conclusively that

-Parkes could not have tampered with it.

-

-But in spite of the analysis, the coffee still seemed the doubtful

-item. Cheyne’s sleepy feeling had come on very rapidly immediately

-after drinking the coffee, before which he had not felt the slightest

-abnormal symptoms. Mr. Speedwell laid stress on this point, though he

-was pessimistic about the whole affair.

-

-“They know what they’re about, does this gang,” he admitted ruefully

-as he and Cheyne were discussing matters. “That man in the hotel that

-called himself Parkes—if we found him tomorrow we should have precious

-little against him. However he managed it, we can’t prove he drugged

-you. In fact it’s the other way round. He can prove on our evidence

-that he didn’t.”

-

-“It looks like it. You haven’t been able to find out anything about

-him?”

-

-“Not a thing, sir; that is, not what would be any use. I can prove

-that he sent your telegram all right; the girl in the Post Office

-recognized his description. But I couldn’t get on to his trail after

-that. I’ve tried the stations and the docks and the posting

-establishments and the hotels and I can’t get a trace. But of course

-I’ll maybe get it yet.”

-

-“What about the address given on his card?”

-

-“Tried that first thing. No good. No one of the name known in the

-district.”

-

-“When did the man arrive at the hotel?”

-

-“Just after you did, Mr. Cheyne. He probably picked you up somewhere

-else and was following you to see where you’d get lunch.”

-

-“Oh, well, that explains something. I was wondering how he knew I was

-going to the Edgecombe.”

-

-“It doesn’t explain so very much, sir. Question still is, how did he

-get all that other information about you; the name of your lawyer and

-so on?”

-

-Cheyne had to admit that the prospects of clearing up the affair were

-not rosy. “But what about the burglary?” he went on more hopefully.

-“That should be an easier nut to crack.”

-

-Speedwell was still pessimistic.

-

-“I don’t know about that, sir,” he answered gloomily. “There’s not

-much to go on there either. The only chance is to trace the men’s

-arrival or departure. Now individually the private detective is every

-bit as good as the police; better, in fact, because he’s not so tied

-up with red tape. But he hasn’t their organization. In a case like

-this, when the police with their enormous organization have failed,

-the private detective hasn’t a big chance. However, of course I’ve not

-given up.”

-

-He paused, and then drawing a little closer to Cheyne and lowering his

-voice, he went on impressively: “You know, sir, I hope you’ll not

-consider me out of place in saying it, but I had hoped to get my best

-clue from yourself. There can be no doubt that these men are after

-some paper that you have, or that they think you have. If you could

-tell me what it was, it might make all the difference.”

-

-Cheyne made a gesture of impatience.

-

-“Don’t I know that,” he cried. “Haven’t I been racking my brains over

-that question ever since the thing happened! I can’t think of

-anything. In fact, I can tell you there _was_ nothing—nothing that I

-know of anyway,” he added helplessly.

-

-Speedwell nodded and a sly look came into his eyes.

-

-“Well, sir, if you can’t tell, you can’t, and that’s all there is to

-it.” He paused as if to refer to some other matter, then apparently

-thinking better of it, concluded: “You have my address, and if

-anything should occur to you I hope you’ll let me know without delay.”

-

-When Speedwell had taken his departure Cheyne sat on in the study,

-thinking over the problem the other had presented, but as he did so he

-had no idea that before that very day was out he should himself have

-received information which would clear up the point at issue, as well

-as a good many of the other puzzling features of the strange events in

-which he had become involved.

-

-Shortly after lunch, then, on this day, the eighth after the burglary

-and drugging, Cheyne, on re-entering the house after a stroll round

-the garden, was handed a card and told that the owner was waiting to

-see him in his study. Mr. Arthur Lamson, of 17 Acacia Terrace, Bland

-Road, Devonport, proved to be a youngish man of middle height and

-build, with the ruggedly chiselled features usually termed

-hard-bitten, a thick black toothbrush mustache, and glasses. Cheyne

-was not particularly prepossessed by his appearance, but he spoke in

-an educated way and had the easy polish of a man of the world.

-

-“I have to apologize for this intrusion, Mr. Cheyne,” he began in a

-pleasant tone, “but the fact is I wondered whether I could interest

-you in a small invention of mine. I got your name from Messrs. Holt &

-Stavenage, the Plymouth ship chandlers. They told me you dealt with

-them and how keen you were on yachting, and as my invention relates to

-the navigation of coasting craft, I hoped you might allow me to show

-it to you.”

-

-Cheyne, who had had some experience of inventors during six weeks’

-special naval war service after his convalescence, made a noncommittal

-reply.

-

-“I may tell you at once, sir,” Mr. Lamson went on, “that I am looking

-for a keen amateur who would be willing to allow me to fit the device

-to his boat, and who would be sufficiently interested to test it under

-all kinds of varying conditions. You see, though the thing works all

-right on a motor launch I have borrowed, I have exhausted my leave

-from my business, and am therefore unable to give it a sufficiently

-lengthy and varying test to find out whether it will work continuously

-under ordinary everyday sea-going conditions. If it proves

-satisfactory I believe it would sell, and if so I should of course be

-willing to take into partnership to a certain extent anyone who had

-helped me to develop it.”

-

-In spite of himself Cheyne was impressed. This man was different from

-those with whom he had hitherto come in contact. He was not asking for

-money, or at least he hadn’t so far.

-

-“Have you patented the device?” he asked, reckoning willingness to

-spend money on patent fees a test of good faith.

-

-“No, not yet,” the visitor answered. “I have taken out provisional

-protection, which will cover the thing for four months more. If it

-promises well after a couple of months’ test it will be time enough to

-apply for the full patent.”

-

-Cheyne nodded. This was a reasonable and proper course.

-

-“What is the nature of the device?” he asked.

-

-The young man’s manner grew more alert. He leaned forward in his chair

-and spoke eagerly. Cheyne frowned involuntarily as he recognized the

-symptoms.

-

-“It’s a position indicator. It would, I think, be useful at all times,

-but during fog it would be simply invaluable: that is, for coasting

-work, you know. It would be no good for protection against collision

-with another ship. But for clearing a headland or making a harbor in a

-fog it would be worth its weight in gold. The principle is, I believe,

-old, but I have been lucky enough to hit on improvements in detail

-which get over the defects of previous instruments. Speaking broadly,

-a fixed pointer, which may if desired carry a pen, rests on a moving

-chart. The chart is connected to a compass and to rollers operated by

-devices for recording the various components of motion: one is driven

-off the propeller, others are set, automatically mostly, for such

-things as wind, run of tide, wave motion and so on. The pointer always

-indicates the position of the ship, and as the ship moves, the chart

-moves to correspond. Steering then resolves itself into keeping the

-pointer on the correct line on the chart, and this can be done by

-night without guide lamps, or in a fog, as well as in daytime. The

-apparatus would also assist navigation through unbuoyed channels over

-covered mud flats, or in time of war through charted mine fields. I

-don’t want to be a nuisance to you, Mr. Cheyne, but I do wish you

-would at least let me show you the device. You could then decide

-whether you would allow me to fix it to your yacht for experimental

-purposes.”

-

-“I should like to see it,” Cheyne admitted. “If you can do all you

-claim, I certainly think you have a good thing. Where is it to be

-seen?”

-

-“On my launch, or rather, the launch I have borrowed.” The young man’s

-eagerness now almost approached excitement. His eyes sparkled and he

-fidgeted in his chair. “She is lying off Johnson’s boat slip at

-Dartmouth. I left the dinghy there.”

-

-“And you want me to go now?”

-

-“If you really will be so kind. I should propose a short run down the

-estuary and along the coast towards Exmouth, say for two or three

-hours. Could you spare so much time?”

-

-“Why, yes, I should enjoy it. I shall be back, say, between six and

-seven.”

-

-“I’ll have you back at Johnson’s slip at six o’clock. I have a taxi

-waiting now, and I’ll arrange with Johnson to call another for you as

-soon as he sees us coming up the estuary.”

-

-“I’ll go,” said Cheyne. “Just a moment until I tell my people and get

-a coat.”

-

-The day was ideal for the run. Spring was in the air. The brilliant

-April sun poured down from an almost cloudless sky, against which the

-sea horizon showed a hard, sharp line of intensest blue. Within the

-estuary it was calm, but multitudinous white flecks in the distance

-showed a stiff breeze was blowing out at sea. Cheyne’s spirits rose.

-It was a glorious sport, this of battling with the foaming, tumbling

-waves in the open. How he loved their blue-black depth with its

-suggestion of utter and absolute cleanness, the creamy purity of their

-seething crests, their steady, irresistible onward movement, the

-restless dancing and swirling of the wavelets on their flanks! To him

-it was life to feel the buoyant spring of the craft beneath him, to

-hear the crash of the bows into the troughs and the smack of the

-spindrift striking aft. He was glad this Lamson had called. Even if

-the matter of the invention was a washout, as he more than half

-expected, he felt he was going to enjoy his afternoon.

-

-Three or four minutes brought them to Johnson’s boat slip on the

-outskirts of Dartmouth. There Lamson drew the proprietor aside.

-

-“See here,” he directed, “we’re going out for a run. I want you to

-keep a lookout for us coming back. We shall be in about six. As soon

-as you see us send for a taxi and have it here when we get ashore.

-Now, Mr. Cheyne, if you’re ready.”

-

-They climbed down into a small dinghy and Lamson, taking the oars,

-pulled out towards a fair-sized motor launch which lay at anchor some

-couple of hundred yards from the shore. She was not a graceful boat,

-but looked strongly built, showing a high bluff bow, a square stern

-and lines suggestive of speed.

-

-“A sea boat,” said Cheyne approvingly. “You surely don’t run her by

-yourself?”

-

-“No, a motoring friend has been giving me a hand. I am skipper and he

-engineer. We hug the coast, you know, and don’t go out if it is

-blowing.”

-

-As he spoke he pulled round the stern of the launch upon which Cheyne

-observed the words “Enid, Devonport.” At the same time a tall,

-well-built figure appeared and waved his hand. Lamson brought the

-dinghy up to the tiny steps and a moment later they were on deck.

-

-“Mr. Cheyne has come out to see the great invention, Tom. I almost

-hope that he is interested. My friend, Tom Lewisham, Mr. Cheyne.”

-

-The two men shook hands.

-

-“Lamson thinks he is going to make his fortune with this thing, Mr.

-Cheyne,” the big man remarked, smiling. “We must see that there is no

-mistake about our percentages.”

-

-“If you want a percentage you must work for it, my son,” Lamson

-declared. “Mr. Cheyne must be back by six, so get your old rattletrap

-going and we’ll run down to the sea. If you don’t mind, Mr. Cheyne,

-we’ll get under way before I show you the machine, as it takes both of

-us to get started.”

-

-“Right-o,” said Cheyne. “I’ll bear a hand if there’s anything I can

-do.”

-

-“Well, that’s good of you. It would be a help if you would take the

-tiller while I’m making all snug. There’s a bit of a tumble on

-outside.”

-

-The boat was certainly a flier. The charmingly situated old town

-dropped rapidly astern while Lamson “made snug.” Then he came aft,

-shouted down through the engine room skylight for his friend, and when

-the latter appeared told him to take the tiller.

-

-“Now, Mr. Cheyne,” he went on, “now comes the great moment! I have not

-fixed the apparatus up here in front of the tiller, partly to keep it

-secret and partly to save the trouble of making it weatherproof. It’s

-down in the cabin. But you understand it should be up here. Will you

-come down?”

-

-He led the way down a companion to a diminutive saloon. “It’s in the

-sleeping part, still forward,” he pointed, and the two men squeezed

-through a door in the bulkhead into a tiny cabin, lit by electric

-light and with a table in the center and two berths on either side. On

-the table was a frame on the top of which was stretched a chart, and a

-light rod ran out from one side to a pointer fixed over the middle of

-the chart.

-

-“You can see that it’s very roughly made,” Lamson went on, “but if you

-look closely I think you’ll find that it works all right.”

-

-Cheyne bent forward and examined the machine, and as he did so

-mystification grew in his mind. The chart was not of the estuary of

-the Dart, nor, stranger still, was it connected to rollers. It was

-simply tacked on what he now saw was merely the lid of a box. How it

-was moved he couldn’t see.

-

-“I don’t follow this,” he said. “How do you get your chart to move if

-it’s nailed down?”

-

-There was no answer, but as he swung round with a sudden misgiving

-there was a sharp click. Lamson had disappeared and the door was shut!

-

-Cheyne seized the handle and turned it violently, only to find that

-the bolt of the lock had been shot, but before he could attempt

-further researches the light went off, leaving him in almost pitch

-darkness. At the same moment a significant lurch showed that they were

-passing from the shelter of the estuary into the open sea.

-

-He twisted and tugged at the handle. “Here you, Lamson!” he shouted

-angrily. “What do you mean by this? Open the door at once. Confound

-you! Will you open the door!” He began to kick savagely at the

-woodwork.

-

-A small panel in the partition between the cabins shot aside and a

-beam of light flowed into Cheyne’s. Lamson’s face appeared at the

-opening. He spoke in an old-fashioned, stilted way, aping extreme

-politeness, but his mocking smile gave the lie to his protestations.

-

-“I’m sorry, Mr. Cheyne, for this incivility,” he declared, “and hope

-that when you have heard my explanation you will pardon me. I must

-admit I have played a trick on you for which I offer the fullest

-apologies. The story of my invention was a fabrication. So far as I am

-aware no apparatus such as I have described exists: certainly I have

-not made one. The truth is that you can do me a service, and I took

-the liberty of inveigling you here in the hope of securing your good

-offices in the matter.”

-

-“You’ve taken a bad way of getting my help,” Cheyne shouted

-wrathfully. “Open the door at once, damn you, or I’ll smash it to

-splinters!”

-

-The other made a deprecatory gesture.

-

-“Really I beg of you, Mr. Cheyne,” he said in mock horror at the

-other’s violence. “Not so fast, if you please, sir. I have an answer

-to both your observations. With regard to the door you will—”

-

-Cheyne interrupted him with a savage oath and a fierce onslaught of

-kicks on the lower panels of the door. But he could make no impression

-on them, and when in a few moments he paused breathless, Lamson went

-on quietly.

-

-“With regard to the door, as I was about to observe, it would be a

-waste of energy to attempt to smash it to splinters, because I have

-taken the precaution to have it covered with steel plates. They are

-bolted through and the nuts are on the outside. I mention this to save

-you—”

-

-Cheyne was by this time almost beside himself with rage. He expressed

-his convictions and desires as to Lamson and his future in terms which

-from the point of view of force left little to be desired, and

-persistently reiterated his demand that the door be opened as a

-prelude to further negotiation. In reply Lamson shook his head, and

-remarking that as the present seemed an inopportune moment for

-discussing the situation, he could postpone the conversation, he

-closed the panel and left the inner cabin once more in darkness.

-

-For an hour Cheyne stormed and fumed, and with pieces which he managed

-to knock off the table tried to break through the door, the bulkheads,

-and the deadlighted porthole, all with such a complete absence of

-success that when at last Lamson appeared once more at the panel he

-was constrained to listen, though with suppressed fury, to what he had

-to say.

-

-“You see, it’s this way, Mr. Cheyne,” the erstwhile inventor began.

-“You are completely in our power, and the sooner you realize it and

-let us come to business, the sooner you’ll be at liberty again. We

-don’t wish you any harm; please accept my assurances on that. All we

-want is a slight service at your hands, and when you perform it you

-will be free to return home; in fact we shall take you back as I said,

-with profuse apologies for your inconvenience and loss of time. But it

-is only fair to point out that we are determined to get what we want,

-and if you are not prepared to come to terms now we can wait until you

-are.”

-

-Cheyne, still at a white heat, cursed the other savagely. Lamson

-waited until he had finished, then went on in a smooth, almost coaxing

-tone:

-

-“Now do be reasonable, Mr. Cheyne. You must see that your present

-attitude is only wasting time for us both. Not to put too fine a point

-on it, the situation is this: You are there, and you can’t get out,

-and you can’t attract attention to your predicament—that is why the

-deadlights are shipped. It grieves me to say it,” Lamson smiled

-sardonically, “but I must tell you that you will stay there until you

-do what we want. In order to prevent Mrs. Cheyne becoming uneasy we

-shall wire her in your name that you have left for an extended trip

-and won’t be back for some days. ‘To Cheyne, Warren Lodge, Dartmouth.

-Gone for yachting cruise down French coast. Address Poste Restante,

-St. Nazaire. All well. Maxwell.’ You see, we know exactly how to word

-it. All suspicion would be lulled for some days and then,” he paused

-and something sinister and revolting came into his face, “then it

-wouldn’t matter, for it would be too late. For you see there is

-neither food nor drink in the cabin and we don’t propose to pass any

-in. You won’t get any, Mr. Cheyne, no matter how many days you remain

-aboard: that is,” his manner changed, “unless you are reasonable,

-which of course you will be. In that case no harm is done. Now won’t

-you hear our little proposition?”

-

-“I’ll see you in hell first,” Cheyne shouted, his rage once again

-overwhelming him. “You’ll pay for this, I can tell you. It’ll be the

-dearest trip you ever had in your life,” and he proceeded with threats

-and curses to demand the immediate opening of the door. Lamson, a

-whimsical smile curling his lips, shrugged his shoulders at the

-outburst, and replied by withdrawing his head from the opening and

-sliding the panel to.

-

-Cheyne, left once more in almost complete darkness, sat silent, his

-mind full of wrath against his captors. But as time passed and they

-made no sign, his fury somewhat evaporated and he began to wonder what

-it was they wanted with him. His rage had made him thirsty, and the

-mere fact that Lamson had stated that nothing would be given him to

-drink, made his thirst more insistent. It was impossible, he said to

-himself, that the scoundrels could carry out so diabolical a threat,

-but in spite of his assurance, little misgivings began to creep into

-his mind. At all events the vision of his usual cup of afternoon tea

-grew increasingly alluring. When therefore after what seemed to him

-several hours, but what was in reality about forty minutes only, the

-panel suddenly opened, he admitted sullenly that he was prepared to

-listen to what Lamson had to say.

-

-“That’s good,” the young man answered heartily. “If you could just see

-your way to humor us in this little matter there is no reason why we

-should not part friends.”

-

-“There’s no question of friends about it,” Cheyne declared sharply.

-“Cut your chatter and get on to business. What do you want?”

-

-A smile suffused Mr. Lamson’s roughhewn countenance.

-

-“Now that’s talking,” he cried. “That’s what I’ve been hoping to hear.

-I’ll tell you the whole thing and you’ll see it’s only a mere trifle

-that we’re asking. I can put it in five words: We want Arnold Price’s

-letter.”

-

-Cheyne stared.

-

-“Arnold Price’s letter?” he repeated in amazement. “What on earth do

-you know about Arnold Price’s letter?”

-

-“We know all about it, Mr. Cheyne—a jolly sight more than you do. We

-know about his giving it to you and the conditions under which he

-asked you to keep it. But you don’t know why he did so or what is in

-it. We do, and we can justify our request for it.”

-

-The demand was so unexpected that Cheyne sat for a moment in silence,

-thinking how the letter in question had come into his possession.

-Arnold Price was a junior officer in one of the ships belonging to the

-Fenchurch Street firm in whose office Cheyne had spent five years as

-clerk. Business had brought the two young men in contact during the

-visits of Price’s ship, and they had become rather friendly. On

-Cheyne’s leaving for Devonshire they had drifted apart, indeed they

-had only met on one occasion since. That was in 1917, shortly before

-Cheyne received the wound which invalided him out of the service. Then

-he found that his former companion had volunteered for the navy on the

-outbreak of hostilities. He had done well, and after a varied service

-he had been appointed third officer of the _Maurania_, an

-eight-thousand-ton liner carrying passengers, as well as stores from

-overseas to the troops in France. The two had spent an evening

-together in Dunkirk renewing their friendship and talking over old

-times. Then, two months later, had come the letter. In it Price asked

-his friend to do him a favor. Some private papers, of interest only to

-himself, had come into his possession and he wished these to be safely

-preserved until after the war. Knowing that Cheyne was permanently

-invalided out, he was venturing to send these papers, sealed in the

-enclosed envelope, with the request that Cheyne would keep them for

-him until he reclaimed them or until news of his death was received.

-In the latter case Cheyne was to open the envelope and act as he

-thought fit on the information therein contained.

-

-The sealed envelope was of a size which would hold a foolscap sheet

-folded in four, and was fairly bulky. It was inscribed: “To Maxwell

-Cheyne, of Warren Lodge, Dartmouth, Devonshire, from Arnold Price,

-third officer, S.S. _Maurania_,” and on the top was written: “Please

-retain this envelope unopened until I claim it or until you have

-received authentic news of my death. Arnold Price.” Cheyne had

-acknowledged it, promising to carry out the instructions, and had then

-sent the envelope to his bank, where it had since remained.

-

-The insinuating voice of Lamson broke through his thoughts.

-

-“I think, Mr. Cheyne, when you hear the reasons for our request, you

-will give it all due consideration. For one—”

-

-What? Break faith with Price? Go back on his friend? Rage again choked

-Cheyne’s utterance. Stutteringly he cursed the other, once again

-demanding under blood-curdling threats of future vengeance his

-immediate liberty. Through his passion he heard the voice of the other

-saying he was sorry but he really could not help it, the panel slid

-shut, and darkness and silence, save for the sounds of the sea,

-reigned in the _Enid’s_ cabin.

-

-

-

-Chapter IV

-

-Concerning a Peerage

-

-When Maxwell Cheyne’s paroxysm of fury diminished and he began once

-more to think collectedly about the unpleasant situation in which he

-found himself, a startling idea occurred to him. Here at last, surely,

-was the explanation of his previous adventures! The drugging in the

-hotel in Plymouth, the burglary at Warren Lodge, and now his kidnaping

-on the _Enid_ were all part and parcel of the same scheme. It was for

-Price’s letter that his pocketbook was investigated while he lay

-asleep in the private room at the Edgecombe; it was for Price’s letter

-that his safe was broken open and his house searched by other members

-of the conspiracy, and it was for Price’s letter that he now lay, a

-prisoner aboard this infernal launch.

-

-A valuable document, this of Price’s must surely be, if it was worth

-such pains to acquire! Cheyne wondered how it had never occurred to

-him that it might represent the motive of the earlier crimes, but he

-soon realized that he had never thought of it as being of interest to

-anyone other than Price. Indeed, Price himself referred to his

-enclosure as “some private papers, of interest to myself only.” In

-that last phrase Price had evidently been wrong, and Cheyne wondered

-whether he had been genuinely mistaken, or whether he had from

-distrust of himself deliberately misstated the case in order to

-minimize the value of the document. Price had certainly not shown

-himself anxious to regain it at the earliest possible moment. On the

-conclusion of peace he had not accepted demobilization. He had applied

-for and obtained a transfer to the Middle East, where he had commanded

-one of the transports plying between Basrah and Bombay in connection

-with the Mesopotamian campaign. So far as Cheyne knew, he was still

-there. He hadn’t heard of him for many months, not, indeed, since he

-went out.

-

-While Cheyne had been turning over these matters in his mind the

-launch had evidently been approaching land, as its rather wild rolling

-and pitching had gradually ceased and it was now floating on an even

-keel. Cheyne had been conscious of the fact despite his preoccupation,

-but now his musings were interrupted by the stopping of the motor and

-a few seconds later by the plunge of the anchor and the rattle of the

-running chain. In the comparative silence he shouted himself hoarse,

-but no one paid him the least attention. He heard, however, the dinghy

-being drawn up to the side and presently the sound of oars retreating,

-but whether one or both of his captors had left he could not tell. In

-an hour or two the boat returned, but though he again shouted and beat

-the door of his cabin, no notice was taken of his calls.

-

-Then began for Cheyne a period which he could never afterwards look

-back on without a shudder. Never could he have believed that a night

-could be so long, that time could drag so slowly. He made himself as

-comfortable as he could in one of the bunks, but as the clothes and

-the mattress had been removed, his efforts were not crowned with much

-success. In spite of his weariness and of the growing exhaustion due

-to hunger, he could not sleep. He wanted something to drink. He was

-surprised to find that thirst was not localized in a parched throat or

-dry mouth. His whole being cried out for water. He could not have

-described the sensation, but it was very intense, and with every hour

-that passed it grew stronger. He turned and tossed in the narrow bunk,

-his restlessness and discomfort continually increasing. At last he

-dozed, but only to fall into horrible dreams from which he awoke

-unrefreshed and thirstier than ever.

-

-Cheyne had plenty of spirit and dash, but he lacked in staying power,

-and when the inevitable period of reaction to his excitement and rage

-came he became plunged in a deep depression. These fellows had him in

-their power. If this went on and they really carried out their threat

-he would have to give way sooner or later. He hated to think he might

-betray a trust; he hated still more to be coerced into doing anything

-against his own will, but when, as it seemed to him, weeks later, the

-panel shot back and Lamson’s face appeared, his first decision was

-shaken and he waited sullenly to hear what the other had to say.

-

-The man was polite and deprecating rather than blustering, and seemed

-anxious to make it as easy as possible for Cheyne to capitulate.

-

-“I hope, Mr. Cheyne,” he began, “you will allow me to explain this

-matter more fully, as I cannot but think you have at least to some

-extent misunderstood our proposal. I did not tell you the whole of the

-facts, but I should like to do so now if you will listen.”

-

-He paused expectantly. Cheyne glowered at him, but did not reply, and

-Lamson resumed:

-

-“The matter is somewhat complicated, but I will do my best to explain

-it as briefly as I can. In a word, then, it relates to a claim for a

-peerage. I must admit to you that Lamson is not my name—it is Price,

-and the Arnold Price whom you knew during the war is my second cousin.

-Arnold’s uncle and my father’s cousin, St. John Price, is, or rather

-was, in the diplomatic service, and it is through his discoveries that

-the present situation has arisen.

-

-“It happened that this St. John Price had occasion to visit South

-Africa on diplomatic business during the war, and as luck would have

-it he took his return passage on the _Maurania_, the ship on which his

-nephew Arnold was third officer. But he never reached England. He met

-his death on the journey under circumstances which involved a

-coincidence too remarkable to have happened otherwise than in real

-life.”

-

-In spite of himself Cheyne was interested. Price glanced at him and

-went on:

-

-“One night at the end of the voyage when they were running without

-lights up the Channel, a large steamer going in the same direction as

-themselves suddenly loomed up out of the darkness and struck them

-heavily on the starboard quarter. My cousin was on deck, though not in

-charge. He saw the outlines of the vessel as she was closing in, and

-he also saw that a passenger was standing at the rail just where the

-contact was about to take place. At the risk of his own life he sprang

-forward and dragged the man back. Unfortunately he was not in time to

-save him, for a falling spar broke his back and only just missed

-killing Arnold. Then, as you may have guessed from what I said, it

-turned out that the passenger was none other than St. John Price. My

-cousin had tried to save his own uncle.”

-

-Once more Price paused, but Cheyne still remaining silent, he

-continued:

-

-“St. John lingered for some hours, during most of which time he was

-conscious, and it was then that he told Arnold about his belief, that

-he, Arnold, was heir to the barony of Hull. I don’t know, Mr. Cheyne,

-if you are aware that the present Lord Hull is a man well on to eighty

-and is in failing health. He has no known heir, and unless some

-claimant comes forward speedily, the title will in the course of

-nature become extinct. As you probably know also, Lord Hull is a man

-of enormous wealth. St. John Price believed that he, Arnold, and

-myself were all descended from the eldest son of Francis, the fifth

-Baron Hull. This man had lived an evil, dissolute life, and England

-having become too hot to hold him, he had sailed for South Africa in

-the early part of the last century. On his father’s death search was

-made for him, but without result, and the second son, Alwyn,

-inherited. St. John had after many years’ labor traced what he

-believed was a lineal descent from the scapegrace, and he had utilized

-his visit to South Africa to make further inquiries. There he had

-unearthed the record of a marriage, which, he believed, completed the

-proofs he sought. As he knew he was dying, he handed over the attested

-copy of the marriage certificate to Arnold, at the same time making a

-new will leaving all the other documents in the case to Arnold also.

-

-“When Arnold received his next leave he went fully into the matter

-with his solicitor, only to find that one document, the register of a

-birth, was missing. Without this he could scarcely hope to win his

-case. The evidence of the other papers tended to show that the birth

-had taken place in India, probably at Bombay, and Arnold therefore

-applied for a transfer into a service which brought him to that

-country, in the hope that he would have an opportunity to pursue his

-researches at first hand. It was there that I met him—I am junior

-partner in Swanson, Reid & Price’s of that city—and he told me all

-that I have told you.

-

-“Before going to the East he sealed up the papers referring to the

-matter and sent them to you. If you will pardon my saying so, I think

-that there he made a mistake. But he explained that he knew too much

-about lawyers to leave anything in their hands, that they would fight

-the case for their own fees whether there was any chance of winning it

-or not, and that he wanted the papers to be in the hands of an honest

-man in case of his death.

-

-“I pointed out that I was interested in the matter also, but he said

-No, that he was the heir and that during his life the affair concerned

-him alone. Needless to say, we parted on bad terms.

-

-“Now, Mr. Cheyne, you can see why I want those papers. Though Arnold

-is my cousin I doubt his honesty. I want to see exactly how we both

-stand. I want nothing but what is fair—as a matter of fact I can get

-nothing but what is fair—the law wouldn’t allow it. But I don’t want

-to be done. If I had the papers I would show them to a first-rate

-lawyer. If Arnold is entitled to succeed he will do so, if I am the

-heir I shall, if neither of us no harm is done. We can only get what

-the law allows us. But in any case I give my word of honor that, if I

-succeed, Arnold shall never want for anything in reason.”

-

-Price was speaking earnestly and his manner carried conviction to

-Cheyne. Without waiting for a reply he proceeded.

-

-“You, Mr. Cheyne, if you will excuse my saying it, are an outsider in

-the matter. Whether Arnold or I or neither of us succeeds is nothing

-to you. You want to do only what is fair to Arnold, and you have my

-most solemn promise that that is all I propose. If you enable me to

-test our respective positions by handing over the papers to me you

-will not be letting Arnold down.”

-

-When Price ceased speaking there was silence between the two men as

-Cheyne thought over what he had heard. Price’s manner was convincing,

-and as far as Cheyne could form an opinion, the story might be true.

-It certainly explained the facts adequately, and Cheyne believed that

-the statements about Lord Hull were correct. All the same he did not

-believe this man was out for a square deal. If he could only get what

-the law allowed, would not the same apply whether he or Arnold

-conducted the affair? Cheyne, moreover, was still sore from his

-treatment, and he determined he would not discuss the matter until he

-had received satisfactory replies to one or two personal questions.

-

-“Did you drug me in the Edgecombe Hotel in Plymouth a week ago and

-then go through my pockets, and did you the same evening burgle my

-house, break open my safe, and mishandle my servants?”

-

-It was not exactly a tactful question, but Price answered it

-cheerfully and without hesitation.

-

-“Not in person, but I admit my agents did these things. For these also

-I am anxious to apologize.”

-

-“Your apologies won’t prevent your having a lengthened acquaintance

-with the inside of a prison,” Cheyne snarled, his rage flickering up

-at the recollection of his injuries. “How do your confederates come to

-be interested?”

-

-“Bought,” the other admitted sweetly. “I had no other way of getting

-help. I have paid them twenty pounds on account and they will get a

-thousand guineas each if my claim is upheld.”

-

-“A self-confessed thief and crook as well as a liar! And you expect me

-to believe in your good intentions towards Arnold Price!”

-

-An unpleasant look passed across the other’s face, but he spoke

-calmly.

-

-“That may be all very well and very true if you like, but it doesn’t

-advance the situation. The question now is: Are you prepared to hand

-over the letter? Nothing else seems to me to matter.”

-

-“Why did you not come to me like an ordinary honest man and tell me

-your story? What induced you to launch out into all this complicated

-network of crime?”

-

-Price smiled whimsically.

-

-“Well, you might surely guess that,” he answered. “Suppose you had

-refused to give me the letter, how was I to know that you would not

-have put it beyond my reach? I couldn’t take the risk.”

-

-“Suppose I refuse to give it to you now?”

-

-“You won’t, Mr. Cheyne. No one in your position could. Circumstances

-are too strong for you, and you can hand it over and retain your honor

-absolutely untarnished. I do not wish to urge you to a decision. If

-you would prefer to take today to think it over, by all means do so. I

-sent the wire to Mrs. Cheyne shortly before six last night, so she

-will not be uneasy about you.”

-

-Though the words were politely spoken, the threat behind them was

-unmistakable and fell with sinister intent on the listener’s ears.

-Rapidly Cheyne considered the situation. This ruffian was right. No

-one in such a situation could resist indefinitely. It was true he

-could refuse his consent at the moment, but the question would come up

-again and again until at last he would have to give way. He knew it,

-and he felt that unless there was a strong chance of victory, he could

-not stand the hours of suffering which a further refusal would entail.

-No, bitter as the conclusion was, he felt he must for the moment admit

-defeat, trusting later to getting his own back. He turned back to

-Price.

-

-“I haven’t got the letter here. I can only get it for you if you put

-me ashore.”

-

-That this was a victory for Price was evident, but the young man

-showed no elation. He carefully avoided anything in the nature of a

-taunt, and spoke in a quiet, businesslike way.

-

-“We might be able to arrange that. Where is the letter?”

-

-“At my bank in Dartmouth.”

-

-“Then the matter is quite simple. All you have to do is to write to

-the manager to send the letter to an address I shall give you.

-Directly you do so you shall have the best food and drink on the

-launch, and directly the letter is in our hands you will be put ashore

-close to your home.”

-

-Cheyne still hesitated.

-

-“I’ll do it provided you can prove to me your statements. How am I to

-know that you will keep your word? How am I to know that you won’t get

-the letter and then murder me?”

-

-“I’m afraid you can’t know that. I would gladly prove it to you, but

-you must see that it’s just not possible. I give you my solemn word of

-honor and you’ll have to accept it because there is nothing else you

-can do.”

-

-Cheyne demurred further, but as Price showed signs of retreating and

-leaving him to think it over until the evening, he hastily agreed to

-write the letter. Immediately the electric light came on in his cabin

-and Price passed in a couple of sheets of notepaper and envelopes.

-Cheyne gazed at them in surprise. They were of a familiar silurian

-gray and the sheets bore in tiny blue embossed letters the words

-“Warren Lodge, Dartmouth, S. Devon.”

-

-“Why, it’s my own paper,” he exclaimed, and Price with a smile

-admitted that in view of some development like the present, his agents

-had taken the precaution to annex a few sheets when paying their call

-to Cheyne’s home.

-

-“If you will ask your manager to send the letter to Herbert Taverner,

-Esq., Royal Hotel, Weymouth, it will meet the case. Taverner is my

-agent, and as soon as it is in his hands I will set you ashore at

-Johnson’s wharf.”

-

-Seeing there was no help for it, Cheyne wrote the letter. Price read

-it carefully, then sealed it in its envelope. Immediately after he

-handed through the panel a tumbler of whisky and water, then hurried

-off, saying he was going to dispatch the letter and bring Cheyne his

-breakfast.

-

-Oh, the unspeakable delight of that drink! Cheyne thought he had never

-before experienced any sensation approaching it in satisfaction. He

-swallowed it in great gulps, and when in a few moments Price returned,

-he demanded more, and again more.

-

-His thirst assuaged, hunger asserted itself, and for the next

-half-hour Cheyne had the time of his life as Price handed in through

-the panel a plate of smoking ham and eggs, fragrant coffee, toast,

-butter, marmalade and the like. At last with a sigh of relief Cheyne

-lit his pipe, while Price passed in blankets and rugs to make up a bed

-in one of the bunks. Some books and magazines followed and a handbell,

-which Price told him to ring if he wanted anything.

-

-Comfortable in body and fairly easy in mind, Cheyne made up his bed

-and promptly fell asleep. It was afternoon when he awoke, and on

-ringing the bell, Price appeared with a well-cooked lunch. The evening

-passed comfortably if tediously and that night Cheyne slept well.

-

-Next day and next night dragged slowly away. Cheyne was well looked

-after and supplied with everything he required, but the confinement

-grew more and more irksome. However, he could not help himself and he

-had to admit he might have fared worse, as he lay smoking in his bunk

-and brooding over schemes to get even with the men who had tricked

-him.

-

-About half-past ten on the second morning he suddenly heard oars

-approaching, followed by the sounds of a boat coming alongside and

-some one climbing on board. A few moments later Price appeared at the

-panel.

-

-“You will be pleased to hear, Mr. Cheyne, that we have received the

-letter safely. We are getting under way at once and you will be home

-in less than three hours.”

-

-Presently the motor started, and soon the slow, easy roll showed they

-were out in the open breasting the Channel ground swell. After a

-couple of hours, Price appeared with his customary tray.

-

-“We are just coming into the estuary of the Dart,” he said. “I thought

-perhaps you would have a bit of lunch before going ashore.”

-

-The meal, like its fellows, was surprisingly well cooked and served,

-and Cheyne did full justice to it. By the time he had finished the

-motion of the boat had subsided and it was evident they were in

-sheltered waters. Some minutes later the motor stopped, the anchor was

-dropped, and someone got into a boat and rowed off. A quarter of an

-hour passed and then the boat returned, and to Cheyne’s misgivings and

-growing concern, the motor started again. But after a very few minutes

-it once more stopped and Price appeared at the panel.

-

-“Now, Mr. Cheyne, the time has come for us to say good-bye. For

-obvious reasons I am afraid we shall have to ask you to row yourself

-ashore, but the tide is flowing and you will have no difficulty in

-that. But before parting I wish to warn you very earnestly for your

-own sake and your own safety not to attempt to follow us or to set the

-police on our track. Believe me, I am not speaking idly when I assure

-you that we cannot brook interference with our plans. We wish to avoid

-‘removals’,” he lingered over the word and a sinister gleam came into

-his eyes, “but please understand we shall not hesitate if there is no

-other way. And if you try to give trouble there will be in your case

-no other way. Take my advice and be wise enough to forget this little

-episode.” He took a small automatic pistol from his pocket and

-balanced it before the panel. “I warn you most earnestly that if you

-attempt to make trouble it will mean your death. And with regard to

-trying to follow us, please remember that this launch has the heels of

-any craft in the district and that we have a safe hiding-place not far

-away.”

-

-As Price finished speaking he unlocked and threw open the cabin door,

-motioning his prisoner to follow him on deck. There Cheyne saw that

-they were far down the estuary, in fact, nearly opposite Warren Lodge

-and a mile or more from the town.

-

-“I thought you were going to take me to Johnson’s jetty,” he remarked.

-

-“An obvious precaution,” the other returned smoothly. “I trust you

-won’t mind.”

-

-The freshness and the freedom of the deck were inexpressibly

-delightful to Cheyne after his long confinement in the stuffy cabin.

-He stood drawing deep draughts of the keen invigorating air into his

-lungs, as he gazed at the familiar shores of the estuary, lighted up

-in the brilliant April sunlight. Nature seemed in an optimistic mood

-and Cheyne, in spite of his experiences and Price’s gruesome remarks,

-felt optimistic also. He still felt he would devote all his energies

-to getting even with the scoundrels who had robbed him, but he no

-longer regarded them with a sullen hatred. Rather the view of the

-affair as a game in which he was pitting his wits against theirs

-gained force in his mind, and he looked forward with zest to turning

-the tables upon them in the not too distant future.

-

-In the launch’s dinghy, which was made fast astern, was Lewisham,

-engaged in untying the painter of a second dinghy which bore on its

-stern board the words “S. Johnson, Dartmouth.” The explanation of the

-starting and stopping of the motor now became clear. The conspirators

-had evidently gone in to pick up this boat and had towed it down the

-estuary so as to insure their escape before Cheyne could reach the

-shore to lodge any information against them.

-

-The painter untied, Lewisham passed it aboard the launch and Price,

-drawing the boat up to the gunwale, motioned Cheyne into it.

-

-“As I said, I’m sorry we shall have to ask you to row yourself ashore,

-but the run of the tide will help you. Good-bye, Mr. Cheyne. I deeply

-regret all the inconvenience you have suffered, and most earnestly I

-urge you to regard the warning which I have given you.”

-

-As he spoke he threw the end of the painter into the dinghy and, the

-launch’s motor starting, she drew quickly ahead, leaving Cheyne seated

-in the small boat.

-

-Full of an idea which had just flashed into his mind, the latter

-seized the oars and began pulling with all his might not for Johnson’s

-jetty, but for the shore immediately opposite. But try as he would, he

-did not reach it before the launch _Enid_ had become a mere dot on the

-seaward horizon.

-

-

-

-Chapter V

-

-An Amateur Sleuth

-

-Cheyne’s great idea was that instead of proceeding directly to the

-police station and lodging an information against his captors, as he

-had at first intended, he should himself attempt to follow them to

-their lair. To enter upon a battle of wits with such men would be a

-sport more thrilling than big game hunting, more exciting than war,

-and if by his own unaided efforts he could bring about their undoing

-he would not only restore his self-respect, which had suffered a nasty

-jar, but might even recover for Arnold Price the documents which he

-required for his claim to the barony of Hull.

-

-Whether he was wise in this decision was another matter, but with

-Maxwell Cheyne impulse ruled rather than colder reason, the desire of

-the moment rather than adherence to calculated plan. Therefore

-directly a way in which he could begin the struggle occurred to him,

-he was all eagerness to set about carrying it out.

-

-The essence of his plan was haste, and he therefore bent lustily to

-his oars, sending the tiny craft bounding over the wavelets of the

-estuary and leaving a wake of bubbles from its foaming stem. In a few

-minutes he had reached the shore immediately beneath Warren Lodge,

-tied the painter round a convenient boulder, and racing over the rocky

-beach, had set off running towards the house.

-

-It was a short though stiff climb, but he did not spare himself, and

-he reached the garden wall within three minutes of leaving the boat.

-As he turned in through the gate he looked back over the panorama of

-sea, the whole expanse of which was visible from this point, measuring

-with his eye the distance to Inner Froward Point, the headland at the

-opposite side of the bay, around which the _Enid_ had just

-disappeared. She was going east, up channel, but he did not think she

-was traveling fast enough to defeat his plans.

-

-Another minute brought him to the house, and there, in less time than

-it takes to tell, he had seen his sister, explained that he might not

-be back that night, obtained some money, donned his leggings and

-waterproof, and starting up his motor bike, had set off to ride into

-Dartmouth.

-

-Pausing for a moment at the boat slip to tell Johnson of the

-whereabouts of his dinghy, he reached the ferry and got across the

-river to Kingswear with the minimum of delay possible. Then once more

-mounting his machine, he rode rapidly off towards the east.

-

-The land lying eastward of Dartmouth forms a peninsula shaped roughly

-like an inverted cone, truncated, and connected to the mainland by a

-broad isthmus at the northwest corner. The west side is bounded by the

-river Dart, with Dartmouth and Kingswear to the southwest, while on

-the other three sides is the sea. Brixham is a small town at the

-northeast corner, while further north beyond the isthmus are the

-larger towns of Paignton and, across Tor Bay, Torquay.

-

-Most of the ground on the peninsula is high, and the road from

-Kingswear in the southwest corner to Brixham in the northeast crosses

-a range of hills from which a good view of Tor Bay and the sea to the

-north and east is obtainable. Should the _Enid_ have been bound for

-Torquay, Teignmouth, Exmouth, or any of the seaports close by, she

-would pass within view of this road, whereas if she was going right up

-Channel past Portland Bill she would go nearly due east from the

-Froward Points. Cheyne’s hope was that he should reach this viewpoint

-before she would have had time to get out of sight had she been on the

-former course, so that her presence or absence would indicate the

-route she was pursuing.

-

-But when, having reached the place, he found that no trace of the

-_Enid_ was to be seen, he realized that he had made a mistake. From

-Inner Froward Point to Brixham was only about seven miles, to Paignton

-about ten, and to Torquay eleven or twelve. The longest of these

-distances the launch should do in about twenty-five minutes, and as in

-spite of all his haste no less than forty-seven minutes had elapsed

-since he stepped into the dinghy, the test was evidently useless.

-

-But having come so far, he was not going to turn back without making

-some further effort. The afternoon was still young, the day was fine,

-he had had his lunch and cycling was pleasant. He would ride along the

-coast and make some inquiries.

-

-He dropped down the hill into Brixham, and turning to the left, pulled

-up at the little harbor. A glance showed him that the _Enid_ was not

-there. He therefore turned his machine, and starting once more, ran

-the five miles odd to Paignton at something well above the legal

-limit.

-

-Inquiries at the pier produced no result, but as he turned away he had

-a stroke of unexpected luck. Meeting a coastguard, he stopped and

-questioned him, and was overjoyed when the man told him that though no

-launch had come into Paignton that morning, he had about

-three-quarters of an hour earlier seen one crossing the bay from the

-south and evidently making for Torquay.

-

-Quivering with eagerness, Cheyne once more started up his bicycle. He

-took the three miles to Torquay at a reckless speed and there received

-his reward. Lying at moorings in the inner harbor was the _Enid_.

-

-Leaving the bicycle in charge of a boy, Cheyne stepped up to a group

-of longshoremen and made his inquiries. Yes, the launch there had just

-come in, half an hour or more back. Two men had come off her and had

-handed her over to Hugh Leigh, the boatman. Leigh was a tall stout man

-with a black beard: in fact, there he was himself behind that yellow

-and white boat.

-

-Impetuous though he was, Cheyne’s knowledge of human nature told him

-that in dealing with his fellows the more haste frequently meant the

-less speed. He therefore curbed his impatience and took a leisurely

-tone with the boatman.

-

-“Good-day to you,” he began. “I see you have the _Enid_ there. Is she

-long in?”

-

-“’Bout ’arf an hour, sir,” the man returned.

-

-“I was to have met her,” Cheyne went on, “but I’m afraid I have missed

-my friends. You don’t happen to know which direction they went in?”

-

-“Took a keb, sir: taxi. Went towards the station.”

-

-The station! That was an idea at least worth investigating. He slipped

-the man a couple of shillings lest his good offices should be required

-in the future, and hurrying back to his bicycle was soon at the place

-in question. Here, though he could find no trace of his quarry, he

-learned that a train had left for Newton Abbot at 3:33—five minutes

-earlier. It looked very much as if his friends had traveled by it.

-

-For those who are not clear as to the geography of South Devon, it may

-be explained that Newton Abbot lies on the main line of the Great

-Western Railway between Paddington and Cornwall, with Exeter twenty

-miles to the northeast and Plymouth some thirty odd to the southwest.

-At Newton Abbot the line throws off a spur, which, passing through

-Torquay and Paignton, has its terminus at Kingswear, from which there

-is a ferry connection to Dartmouth on the opposite side of the river.

-From Torquay to Newton Abbot is only about six miles, and there is a

-good road between the two. Cheyne, therefore, hearing that the train

-had left only five minutes earlier and knowing that there would be a

-delay at the junction waiting for the main line train, at once saw

-that he had a good chance of overtaking it.

-

-He did not stop to ask questions, but leaping once more on his

-machine, did the six miles at the highest speed he dared. At precisely

-4:00 P.M. he pushed the bicycle into Newton Abbot station, and handing

-half a crown to a porter, told him to look after it until his return.

-

-Hasty inquiries informed him that the train with which that from

-Torquay connected was a slow local from Plymouth to Exeter. It had not

-yet arrived, but was due directly. It stopped for seven minutes, being

-scheduled out at 4:10 P.M. On chance Cheyne bought a third single to

-Exeter, and putting up his collar, pulling down his hat over his eyes

-and affecting a stoop, he passed on to the platform. A few people were

-waiting, but a glance told him that neither Price nor Lewisham was

-among them.

-

-As, however, they might be watching from the shelter of one of the

-waiting rooms, he strolled away towards the Exeter end of the

-platform. As he did so the train came in from Plymouth, the engine

-stopping just opposite where he was standing. He began to move back,

-so as to keep a sharp eye on those getting in. But at once a familiar

-figure caught his eye and he stood for a moment motionless.

-

-The coach next the engine was a third, and in the corner of its fourth

-compartment sat Lewisham!

-

-Fortunately he was sitting with his back to the engine and he did not

-see Cheyne approaching from behind. Fortunately, also, the opposite

-corner was occupied by a lady, as, had Price been there, Cheyne would

-unquestionably have been discovered.

-

-Retreating quickly, but with triumph in his heart, Cheyne got into the

-end compartment of the coach. It was already occupied by three other

-men, two sitting in the corner seats next the platform, the third with

-his back to the engine at the opposite end. Cheyne dropped into the

-remaining corner seat—facing the engine and next the corridor. He did

-not then realize the important issues that hung on his having taken up

-this position, but later he marveled at the lucky chance which had

-placed him there.

-

-As the train proceeded he had an opportunity, for the first time since

-embarking on this wild chase, of calmly considering the position, and

-he at once saw that the fugitives’ moves up to the present had been

-dictated by their circumstances and were almost obligatory.

-

-First, he now understood that they _must_ have landed at Brixham,

-Paignton, or Torquay, and of these Torquay was obviously most suitable

-to their purpose, being larger than the others and their arrival

-therefore attracting correspondingly less attention. But they must

-have landed at one of the three places, as they were the only ports

-which they could reach before he, Cheyne, would have had time to give

-the alarm. Suppose he had lodged information with the police

-immediately on getting ashore, it would have been simply impossible

-for the others to have entered any other port without fear of arrest.

-But at Paignton or Torquay they were safe. By no possible chance could

-the machinery of the law have been set in motion in time to apprehend

-them.

-

-He saw also how the men came to be seated in the train from Plymouth

-when it reached Newton Abbot, and here again he was lost in admiration

-at the way in which the pair had laid their plans. The first station

-on the Plymouth side of Newton Abbot was Totnes, and from Torquay to

-Totnes by road was a matter of only some ten miles. They would just

-have had time to do the distance, and there was no doubt that Totnes

-was the place to which their taxi had taken them. In the event,

-therefore, of an immediate chase, there was every chance of the scent

-being temporarily lost at Torquay.

-

-These thoughts had scarcely passed through Cheyne’s mind when the

-event happened which caused him to congratulate himself on the seat he

-was occupying. At the extreme end of the coach, immediately in advance

-of his compartment, was the lavatory, and at this moment, just as they

-were stopping at Teignmouth, a man carrying a small kitbag passed

-along the corridor and entered. Approaching from behind Cheyne, he did

-not see the latter’s face, but Cheyne saw him. It was Price!

-

-Cheyne took an engagement book from his pocket and bent low over it,

-lest the other should recognize him on his return. But Price remained

-in the lavatory until they reached Dawlish, and here another stroke of

-luck was in store for Cheyne. At Dawlish, at which they stopped a few

-moments later, his vis-à-vis alighted, and Cheyne immediately changed

-his seat. When, therefore, just before the train started, Price left

-the lavatory, he again approached Cheyne from behind and again failed

-to see his face.

-

-As he passed down the corridor Cheyne stared at him. While in the

-lavatory he had effected a wondrous change in his appearance. Gone now

-was the small dark mustache and the glasses, his hat was of a

-different type and his overcoat of a different color. Cheyne watched

-him pause hesitatingly at the door of the next compartment and finally

-enter.

-

-For some moments as the train rattled along towards Exeter, Cheyne

-failed to grasp the significance of this last move. Then he saw that

-it was, as usual, part of a well-thought-out scheme. Approaching

-Teignmouth, Price had evidently left his compartment—almost certainly

-the fourth, where Lewisham sat—as if he were about to alight at the

-station. Instead of doing so, he had entered the lavatory. Disguised,

-or, more probably, with a previous disguise removed, he had left it

-before the train started from Dawlish, and appearing at the door of

-the second compartment, had attempted to convey the idea, almost

-certainly with success, that he had just joined the train.

-

-A further thought made Cheyne swing across again to the seat facing

-the engine. They were approaching Starcross. Would Lewisham adopt the

-same subterfuge at this station? But he did not, and they reached

-Exeter without further adventure.

-

-The train going no further, all passengers had to alight. Cheyne was

-in no hurry to move, and by the time he left the carriage Price and

-Lewisham were already far down the platform. He wished that he in his

-turn could find a false mustache and glasses, but he realized that if

-he kept his face hidden, his clothes were already a satisfactory

-disguise. He watched the two men begin to pace the platform, and soon

-felt satisfied that they were proceeding by a later train.

-

-They had reached Exeter at 5:02 P.M. Two expresses left the station

-shortly after, the 5:25 for Liverpool, Manchester and the north, and

-the 5:42 for London. Cheyne sat down on a deserted seat near the end

-of the platform and bent his head over his notebook while he watched

-the others.

-

-The 5:25 for the north arrived and left, and still the two men

-continued pacing up and down. “For London,” thought Cheyne, and

-slipping off to the booking hall he bought a first single for

-Paddington. If the men were traveling third, he would be better in a

-different class.

-

-When the London express rolled majestically in, Price and Lewisham

-entered a third near the front of the train. Satisfied that he was

-still unobserved, Cheyne got into the first class diner farther back.

-He had not been very close to the men, but he noticed that Lewisham

-had also made some alteration in his appearance, which explained his

-not having changed in the lavatory on the local train.

-

-The express was very fast, stopping only once—at Taunton. Here Cheyne,

-having satisfied himself that his quarry had not alighted, settled

-himself with an easy mind to await the arrival at Paddington. He dined

-luxuriously, and when at nine precisely they drew up in the terminus,

-he felt extremely fit and ready for any adventure that might offer

-itself.

-

-From the pages of the many works of detective fiction which he had at

-one time or another digested, he knew exactly what to do. Jumping out

-as the train came to rest, he hurried along the platform until he had

-a view of the carriage in which the others had traveled. Then, keeping

-carefully in the background, he awaited developments.

-

-Soon he saw the men alight, cross the platform and engage a taxi. This

-move also he was prepared for. Taking a taxi in his turn, he bent

-forward and said to the driver what the sleuths of his novels had so

-often said to their drivers in similar circumstances: “Follow that

-taxi. Ten bob extra if you keep it in sight.”

-

-The driver looked at him curiously, but all he said was: “Right y’are,

-guv’nor,” and they slipped out at the heels of the other vehicle into

-the crowded streets.

-

-Cheyne’s driver was a skillful man and they kept steadily behind the

-quarry, not close enough to excite suspicion, but too near to run any

-risk of being shaken off. Cheyne was chuckling excitedly and hugging

-himself at the success of his efforts thus far when, with the

-extraordinary capriciousness that Fate so often shows, his luck

-turned.

-

-They had passed down Praed Street and turned up Edgware Road, and it

-was just where the latter merges into Maida Vale that the blow fell.

-Here the street was up and the traffic was congested. Both vehicles

-slackened down, but whereas the leader got through without a stop,

-Cheyne’s was held up to give the road to cross traffic. In vain Cheyne

-chafed and fretted; the raised arm of the law could not be

-disregarded, and when at last they were free to go forward, all trace

-of the other taxi had vanished.

-

-In vain the driver put on a spurt. There were scores of vehicles ahead

-and a thousand and one turnings off the straight road. In a few

-minutes Cheyne had to recognize that the game was up and that he had

-lost his chance.

-

-He stopped and took counsel with his driver, with the result that he

-decided to go back to Paddington in the hope that when the other taxi

-had completed its run it would return to the station rank. He had been

-near enough to take its number, and his man was able to give him the

-other driver’s address, in case the latter went home instead of to the

-station.

-

-Having reserved a room at the Station Hotel and written a brief note

-to his sister saying that his business had brought him to London and

-that he would let her know when he was returning, he lit his pipe, and

-turning up the collar of his coat, fell to pacing up and down the

-platform alongside the cab rank. He was relieved to find that vehicles

-were still turning up and taking their places at the end of the line,

-and he eagerly scanned the number plate of each arrival. For endless

-aeons of time he seemed to wait, and then at last, a few minutes

-before ten, his patience was rewarded. Taxi Z1729 suddenly appeared

-and drew into position.

-

-In a moment Cheyne was beside its driver.

-

-“Ten bob over the fare if you’ll take me quickly to where you set down

-those two men you got off the Cornish express,” he said in a low eager

-voice.

-

-This man also looked at him curiously and answered, “Right y’are,

-guv’nor,” then having paused to say something to the driver of the

-leading car on the rank, they turned out into Praed Street.

-

-The man drove rapidly along Edgware Road, through Maida Vale and on

-into a part of the town unfamiliar to Cheyne. As they rattled through

-the endless streets Cheyne instructed him not to stop at the exact

-place, but slightly short of it, as he wished to complete the journey

-on foot. It seemed a very long distance, but still the man kept

-steadily on. The town was now taking on a suburban appearance and here

-and there vacant building lots were to be seen.

-

-Presently they passed an ornate building which Cheyne recongized as

-the tube station at Hendon, and shortly afterwards the vehicle

-stopped. Cheyne got out and looked about him, while the driver

-explained the lie of the land.

-

-They had turned at right angles off the main thoroughfare leading from

-town into a road which bore the imposing title of “Hopefield Avenue.”

-This penetrated into what seemed to be an estate recently handed over

-to the jerry-builder, for all around were small detached and

-semi-detached houses in various stages of construction. Many were

-complete and occupied, but in scores of other cases the vacant lots

-still remained, untouched save for their “To let for building”

-signboards.

-

-Leaving the taxi in a deserted crossroad, the driver signified to

-Cheyne that they should go forward on foot. A hundred yards farther on

-they reached another cross-road—the place was laid out in squares like

-an American city—and there the driver pointed to a house in the

-opposite angle, intimating that this was their goal.

-

-It was a small detached villa surrounded by a privet hedge and a few

-small trees and shrubs, evidently not long planted. The two adjoining

-lots, both along Hopefield Avenue and down the crossroad—Alwyn Road,

-Cheyne saw its name was—were vacant. Facing it on both streets were

-finished and occupied houses, but in the angle diagonally opposite was

-a new building whose walls were only half up.

-

-Thrilled with eager anticipation and excitement, Cheyne dismissed the

-driver with his ten-shilling tip and then turned to examine his

-surroundings more carefully, and to devise a plan of campaign for his

-attack on the enemy’s stronghold.

-

-He began by crossing Alwyn Road and walking along Hopefield Avenue

-past the house, while he examined it as well as he could by the light

-of the street lamps. It was a two-story building of rather pleasing

-design, apparently quite new, and conforming to the type of small

-suburban villas springing up by thousands all around London. As far as

-he could make out it had the usual rectangular plan, a red-tiled roof

-with deep overhanging eaves and a large porch with above it a balcony,

-roofed over but open in front. A narrow walk edged with flower beds

-led across the forty or fifty feet of lawn between the road and the

-hall door. On the green gate Cheyne could just make out the words

-“Laurel Lodge” in white letters. So far as he could see the house

-appeared to be deserted, the windows and fanlight being in darkness.

-After the two vacant lots was a half-finished house.

-

-Returning presently, he passed the house again, this time rounding its

-corner and walking down Alwyn Road. Between the first vacant lot and

-Laurel Lodge ran a narrow lane, evidently intended to be the approach

-to the back premises of the future houses.

-

-Glancing round and seeing that no one was in sight, Cheyne slipped

-into this lane, and crouching behind a shrub, examined the back of

-Laurel Lodge.

-

-It was very dark in the lane. Presently it would be lighter, as a

-quadrant moon was rising, but for the moment everything outside the

-radius of the street lamps was hidden in a black pall. The outline of

-the house was just discernible against the sky, though Cheyne could

-not from here make out the details of its construction. But, standing

-out sharply against its black background, was one brightly illuminated

-rectangle—a window on the first floor.

-

-The window was open at the top, and the light colored blind was pulled

-down, though even from where he stood Cheyne could see that it did not

-entirely reach the bottom of the opening. Even as he watched a shadow

-appeared on the blind. It was a man’s head and shoulders and it

-remained steady for a moment, then moved slowly out of sight.

-

-Stealthily Cheyne edged his way forward. The back premises of Laurel

-Lodge were separated from the lane by a gate, and this Cheyne opened

-silently, passing within. Gradually he worked his way round a tiny

-greenhouse and between a few flower beds until he reached the wall of

-the house. There he listened intently, but no sound came from above.

-

-“If only I could get up to the window,” he thought, “I could see in

-under the blind.”

-

-But there was no roof or tree upon which he might have climbed, and he

-stood motionless, undecided what to do next.

-

-Suddenly an idea occurred to him, and full once more of eager

-excitement, he carefully retraced his steps until he reached the lane.

-It ran on between rough wire palings, past the two vacant lots and

-behind the adjoining half-finished house. Cheyne followed it until he

-reached the half-completed building, and then entering, he began to

-search for a short ladder.

-

-Every moment the light of the rising moon was increasing, and after

-stumbling about and making noises which sent him into a cold sweat of

-apprehension, he succeeded, partly by sight and partly by feeling, in

-finding what he wanted. Then with great care he lifted it into the

-lane and bore it back to Laurel Lodge.

-

-With infinite pains he carried it through the gate, round the

-greenhouse, and past the flower beds to the house. Then fixing the

-bottom on the grass plot which surrounded the building, he lowered it

-gently against the wall at the side of the window.

-

-A moment later he reached the slot of clear glass showing beneath the

-blind and peered into the room. There he saw a sight so unexpected

-that in spite of his precarious position a cry of surprise all but

-escaped him.

-

-

-

-Chapter VI

-

-The House in Hopefield Avenue

-

-The room was of medium size and plainly though comfortably furnished

-as a man’s study or smoking room. In one corner was a small roll-top

-desk, in another a table bearing books and papers and a tantalus. Two

-large leather-covered armchairs stood one at each side of the grate,

-in which burned a cheerful fire. In the corner opposite the window was

-a press or cupboard built into the wall, and in front of this all

-furniture had been cleared away, leaving a wide unoccupied space on

-the floor. Beside the wall near this space was a large camera, already

-set up, and on a table beside it lay a flashlight apparatus and two

-dark slides, apparently of full plate size.

-

-In the room were four persons, and it was the identity of the last of

-these that had so amazed Cheyne. Standing beside the camera were Price

-and Lewisham, while no less a personage than Mr. Hubert Parkes of

-Edgecombe Hotel notoriety stood looking on with his back to the fire.

-But it was not on these that Cheyne’s eyes were glued. Reclining in

-one of the armchairs with her feet on the fender was Susan, the house

-and parlormaid at Warren Lodge!

-

-Cheyne gasped. Here was the explanation of one mystery at all events.

-He saw now where the gang’s knowledge of himself and his surroundings

-had been obtained. He remembered that he had discussed his visit to

-Plymouth during dinner, a day or two before the event. Susan had been

-waiting at table, and Susan had been the channel through which the

-information had been passed on. And the burglary! He could see Susan’s

-hand in this also. In all probability she had taken full advantage of

-her opportunities to make a thorough search of the house for Price’s

-letter, and it was doubtless only when it became necessary to deal

-with the safe that her friends had been called in. Probably also she

-had been waiting for them, and had admitted them and shown them over

-the house before submitting to be tied up as a blind to mislead the

-detectives who would presumably be called in. Cheyne suspected also

-that Price’s visit was timed at a propitious moment, when he himself

-was available and with a free afternoon to be filled up. No doubt

-Susan’s part in the affair had been vital to its success.

-

-But her participation also showed the extraordinary importance which

-the conspirators attached to the letter. Susan’s makeup for the part

-she was to play, the forging of her references, her installation in

-the Cheyne household and her undertaking nearly two months of domestic

-service in order to gain the document, showed a tenacity of purpose

-which could only have been evoked to attain some urgent end. Evidently

-the gang believed that Price’s claim on the barony was good, and

-evidently the others intended to share the spoils.

-

-Cheyne watched breathlessly what was going on in the room, and to his

-delight he presently found that through the open upper sash he could

-also hear a good deal of what was said.

-

-The camera had been set up to face the cupboard, and Cheyne now saw

-that a document of some kind was fastened with drawing pins to its

-door. Price put his head under the cloth and moved the camera back and

-forwards, evidently focusing it on the document. Lewisham lifted and

-examined the flashlight apparatus, then stood waiting. Parkes stooped

-and said something in a low tone to Susan, at which she laughed

-sarcastically.

-

-“Do you think two will be enough or should we take four?” said Price

-when he had arranged the camera to his satisfaction.

-

-“Two, I should say,” Parkes answered. “Even if we lost the tracing,

-two negatives should be an ample record.”

-

-“I should take four,” Lewisham declared. “After all we’ve done what is

-the extra trouble of developing a couple of negatives? One or two

-might be failures.”

-

-“Sime is right,” Price decided. “I shall take four.”

-

-Sime? Cheyne thought perplexedly that the man who had run the motor on

-the _Enid_ had been introduced to him as Lewisham. Sime, was it? Then

-it occurred to him that probably each one of the four had met him

-under an assumed name, and he listened even more intently in the hope

-of finding this out.

-

-“I wonder if that ass Cheyne put the cops on to us,” went on Sime to

-the company generally. “James talked to him like a father and he

-seemed to swallow it all down as sweet as milk. Lordy! But you should

-have heard old James spouting. He rattled off his patter like a good

-’un. Fresh absurdities each time and all that. Didn’t you, James?”

-

-“He didn’t give much trouble,” Price replied. “I shouldn’t have

-believed anyone would have given in as soft as he did. I pitched him a

-yarn about yours truly being heir to the barony of Hull that wouldn’t

-have deceived an oyster, and he sucked it in like a sponge. But it

-wasn’t that that worked. It was keeping him without water that did the

-trick. When I offered him another day to think it over he collapsed

-like a pricked bubble.”

-

-“So would you if you had been in his shoes,” Susan declared. “I’d like

-to see you standing out for anything against your own comfort.”

-

-“You wouldn’t have seen me get into his shoes,” Price retorted,

-fitting a dark slide into the camera. “Now, Sime, if you’re ready.”

-

-Price pressed the bulb uncovering the lens and at the same time Sime

-burned a length of magnesium wire before the document on the door,

-while Cheyne writhed with impotent rage at the discovery that he had

-been duped in still another particular.

-

-“We’ve done uncommonly well,” Parkes remarked when the photograph had

-been taken, “but we’re not by any means out of the wood yet. In fact,

-the real work is only beginning. We don’t even yet know the size of

-the problem we’re up against. We’ve got to find that out and then

-we’ve got to make a plan and put it through, and all the time we’ve

-got to lie low in case that infernal ass has reported us to the

-police.”

-

-“We’ve got to get these photographs taken and then we’ve got to get

-our supper,” retorted Price. “For goodness sake let’s have one thing

-at a time, Blessington. If you’d lend a hand instead of standing there

-preaching, it would be more to the point.”

-

-Here was another alias. Parkes’s real name was Blessington. Cheyne was

-beginning to wonder what Price and Susan were really called, when the

-next remark satisfied his curiosity.

-

-Parkes—or Blessington—took Price’s remark easily.

-

-“Now that’s where you make the mistake, Mr. James Dangle,” he said

-with a twinkle in his eye. “Miss Dangle and I do the real work in this

-joint: don’t we, Miss Dangle? We supply the brains, you and Sime only

-rise to the muscles. Eh, Miss Dangle?”

-

-But Miss Dangle was not in a mood for pleasantries.

-

-“We shall want all the brains that you can supply and more,” she

-answered irritably, and then turning lazily to the others demanded if

-they weren’t ever going to be done messing with the darned camera.

-

-At last Cheyne thought he had got the four fixed in his mind. The man

-on the rug—the man who had drugged him in the Plymouth hotel—was

-Blessington. The man who had introduced himself as Lamson and

-afterwards said his name was Price bore neither of these appellations:

-his name was Dangle. Susan was “Miss Dangle” and almost certainly

-sister to James. Lewisham, the motorman of the _Enid_, was Sime.

-

-Dangle, Sime, and Blessington! Why, there was something sinister in

-the very names, and as Cheyne peeped guardedly in beneath the blind,

-he felt there was something even more sinister in their owners.

-Dangle, with his hard-bitten features and without his veneer of

-polish, looked a crafty scoundrel. There was a nasty gleam in his foxy

-eyes. He looked a man who would sell his best friend for a shilling.

-Perhaps Cheyne’s imagination had by this time run away with him, but

-Sime now struck him as a murderous-looking ruffian, and Blessington’s

-smug features seemed but to cloak an evil and cruel nature. He was

-smiling, but there was nothing mirthful about his smile. Rather was it

-the expression that a wolf might be supposed to wear when he sees a

-sheep helpless before his attack. Cheyne did not know if Susan was

-dangerous, but he had always suspected she could be vindictive and

-bad-tempered. A nice crew, he thought, and he shivered in spite of

-himself as he pictured his fate were some accident to lead to his

-discovery.

-

-And what inventive genius they had shown! They had now told him three

-yarns, all convincing, well-thought-out statements, and all entirely

-false. There was first of all Blessington’s dissertation of his,

-Cheyne’s, literary efforts, told to get him off his guard so that a

-drug might be administered to him and his pockets be searched. Then

-there was the account of the position indicator for ships, detailed

-and plausible, a bait to lure him voluntarily aboard the _Enid_.

-Lastly there was the story of the Hull succession, including the

-interesting episode of the attempted rescue of the uncle St. John

-Price, undoubtedly related with the object of reducing Cheyne’s

-scruples in handing over the letter. These people were certainly past

-masters in the art of decorative lying, and once again he marveled at

-the trouble which had been taken in making each story watertight so as

-to assure its success. It was for no small reward that this had been

-done.

-

-Cheyne was getting stiff with cold on the ladder. Though keenly

-interested in what he saw, he wished his enemies would make some move

-so that he might advance or, if necessary, retreat. But they appeared

-in no special hurry, proceeding with the photographs in the most

-careful and deliberate way.

-

-A desultory conversation was kept up, only part of which he heard, but

-nothing further was said which threw any light on the identity of the

-conspirators or on the objects for which they were assembled. The work

-with the camera progressed, however, and presently three photographs

-had been taken.

-

-“Once more,” he heard Dangle remark, and having pulled out the

-shutter, the whilom skipper of the _Enid_ pressed the bulb and another

-photograph was taken.

-

-“That’s four altogether,” Dangle went on in satisfied tones. “I guess

-we’re well provided for against accidents. What about that bit of

-supper, old lady?”

-

-“Aren’t we waiting for you?” Susan demanded as she slowly pulled

-herself up out of the chair. “Gosh!” she went on, lazily stretching

-herself and yawning, “but it’s good to be done with Devonshire! I was

-fed up, I can tell you! Susan this and Susan that! ‘Susan, we’ll have

-tea now,’ ‘Susan, you might bring a tray and take up the mistress’s

-breakfast,’ ‘Susan, you might light the fire in the study; Mr. Cheyne

-wants to work.’ Yah! I guess I’ve about done my share.”

-

-The men exchanged glances, but only Dangle spoke.

-

-“I guess you have, old girl,” he conceded. “But finish out this job

-and you’ll live like a lady for the rest of your life.”

-

-“It’ll be a poor look out for you if I don’t,” she grumbled, and Sime

-having opened the door, she passed out, followed by the others.

-Cheyne, watching breathlessly, saw a light spring up in a ground floor

-window, fortunately not below him, but at the far end of the house.

-

-His heart beat quickly. Was it possible that his great chance had come

-already and that the gang had delivered themselves into his hands? A

-little coolness, a little daring, a little nerve, and he believed he

-could carry off a _coup_ that would entirely reverse the situation.

-The document on the wall must surely be that which these criminals had

-stolen from him. Could he not regain it while they were downstairs at

-their supper? He decided with fierce delight that he would try. It was

-an adventure after his own heart.

-

-Carefully he grasped the lower sash and pressed gently upwards. To his

-delight it moved. With infinite care he pushed it higher and higher

-until at last he was able to work his way into the room. Evidently he

-had not been heard, as the muffled sounds of conversation continued to

-rise unbrokenly from the supper room. He tiptoed lightly across the

-room and gazed in surprise at the document fixed to the wall.

-

-It was certainly not the copy of a birth or marriage certificate nor

-anything connected with a claim to a barony! It was a sheet of tracing

-linen some fifteen inches high by twelve wide, covered with little

-circles spaced irregularly and without any apparent plan, like the

-keys of a typewriter gone mad. Some of these circles contained numbers

-and others letters, also arranged without apparent plan. The only

-thing he could read about the whole document was a phrase, written in

-a circle from the center like the figures on a clock dial: “England

-expects every man to do his duty.”

-

-Cheyne stared in amazement, but soon realizing that his time might be

-short, he silently removed the drawing pins, folded the tracing and

-thrust it into his pocket. Then turning to the camera, he withdrew the

-dark slide, opened first one and then the other of its shutters,

-closed them again and replaced it in the camera. A few seconds

-sufficed to open and close the shutters of the other slide lying on

-the table. With a hurried glance round to make sure that no other

-paper was lying about which might also have formed part of the

-contents of Price’s envelope, he tiptoed back to the window and

-prepared to make his escape.

-

-But as he laid his hand on the blind he was halted by a sound from

-below. Someone had opened what was evidently the back door of the

-house and had stepped out on the ground below the window. Then Sime’s

-voice came, grumbling and muffled: “Where the blazes do you keep the

-darned stuff? How can I find it in the dark?” There was a moment’s

-pause, then in a changed voice a sudden sharp call of “Here, James!

-Look here quickly! What’s this?”

-

-He had seen the ladder! Cheyne realized that his retreat was cut off!

-

-A sudden tumult arose downstairs. Hasty feet ran towards the garden

-and voices spoke low and hurriedly beneath the window. Cheyne saw that

-his only hope lay in instant action. He silently hurried across the

-room, tore the door open and ran to the head of the stairs. His hope

-was that he might slip down and out of the door while the others were

-still at the back of the house.

-

-But he was just too late. As he reached the stairs he heard steps

-approaching the hall below. His retreat was cut off in this direction

-also.

-

-There remained only one thing to do and he did it almost without

-thought. Opening the next door to that of the sitting room, he stepped

-noiselessly inside, closing the door save for a narrow chink through

-which he could hear and see what was happening.

-

-Two of the men had raced up to the sitting room, and peeping out,

-Cheyne saw that they were Blessington and Sime. In a moment they were

-out again and running down, shouting: “It’s gone, James! The tracing’s

-gone!” Sounds indicative of surprise and consternation arose from

-below, but Cheyne could no longer hear the words. Then through the

-window, which also looked out over the garden, he heard Dangle’s

-voice: “Keep guard of the house, Susan and Blessington. Come with me,

-Sime,” and the sound of two pairs of feet rushing away towards the

-lane.

-

-Instinctively Cheyne realized that his chance had come. It was now or

-never. If he could not escape while two of the conspirators were away,

-he would have no chance when all four were present.

-

-He came out of his hiding-place and peeped through the well down into

-the hall. The electric light had been turned on and the hall was

-brilliantly illuminated. In it stood Blessington, glancing alternately

-up the stairs and out through a door to the back. In his hand he held

-an automatic pistol, and from the look of fury and desperation on his

-face Cheyne had no doubt that he would not hesitate to use it if he

-saw him.

-

-“They must have only just gone!” Blessington cried through the door

-with a lurid oath, and Susan’s voice answered with another equally

-vivid string of blasphemy.

-

-Cheyne stood tense, scarcely daring to breathe and on the _qui vive_

-to take advantage of any chance that might offer. But Blessington

-wasn’t going to give chances. He stood there with his pistol raised,

-and unarmed as Cheyne was, he recognized the hopelessness of trying to

-rush him.

-

-He thought there might be a chance of escape from some of the other

-rooms, and silently crept about in the hope of finding a window or

-skylight from which he might perhaps obtain access to a downspout. But

-so far as he could ascertain in the dark there was nothing of the

-kind, and after a few minutes had passed he retraced his steps and set

-himself to watch Blessington.

-

-He wondered whether he could make some noise with the ladder which

-would attract the two watchers to the garden and thus enable him to

-make a bolt for the front door, but while he was considering this he

-heard other voices which revealed the fact that Dangle and Sime had

-returned. Then Dangle’s voice sounded in the hall: “’Fraid they’ve got

-away, but we’d better search the house again to make sure. You stick

-at the stairs, Susan, while we do the lower rooms.”

-

-Steps sounded below as the men moved from room to room. Cheyne’s heart

-was pounding as it had done on different occasions before his ship had

-gone into action during the war, but he was calm and collected and

-determined to take the least chance that offered.

-

-Presently he heard the men joining Susan in the hall. Now was the only

-chance he was likely to get and at all costs he must make the most of

-it. He hurried back to the sitting room window, and setting his teeth,

-lifted the blind and silently crawled out.

-

-So far he had not been seen, and as rapidly as he dared he climbed

-down the ladder. Another five seconds and he would have got clear

-away, but at that moment the alarm was given. One of the men, looking

-out of a window, saw him in the now fairly clear light of the moon.

-Hurried steps sounded and Blessington appeared at the open door.

-

-Fearful of his pistol, Cheyne leaped for his life. He landed on his

-feet, staggered, recovered himself and darted like a hare across the

-flower beds. With any ordinary luck he should have got clear away, but

-Blessington had picked up a broom as he ran, and this he threw with

-fatal aim. It caught Cheyne between the legs and he fell headlong.

-Other steps came hurrying up. By the light streaming from the back

-door he saw an arm raised. It fell and something crashed with a

-sickening thud on his head.

-

-He saw a vivid shower of sparks, there was a roaring in his ears,

-great dark waves seemed to rise up and encompass him, and he

-remembered no more.

-

-

-

-Chapter VII

-

-Miss Joan Merrill

-

-After what seemed ages of forgetfulness a confused sense of pain began

-to make itself felt in Maxwell Cheyne’s being, growing in force and

-definition as he gradually struggled back to consciousness. At first

-his whole body ached sickeningly, but as time passed the major

-suffering concentrated itself in his head. It throbbed as if it would

-burst, and he felt a terrible oppression, as if the weight of the

-universe rested upon it. So on the border line of consciousness he

-hovered for still further ages of time.

-

-Presently by gradual stages the memory of his recent adventure

-returned to him, and he began vaguely to realize that the murderous

-attempt which had been made on him had failed and that he still lived.

-

-Encouraged by this reassuring thought, he hesitatingly essayed the

-feat of opening his eyes. For a time he gazed, confused by the dim

-shapes about him, but at last he came more fully to himself and was

-able to register what he saw.

-

-It was almost dark, indeed most of the arc over which his eyes could

-travel was perfectly so. But here and there he noticed parallelograms

-of a less inky blackness, and after some time the significance of

-these penetrated his brain and he knew where he was.

-

-He was lying on his back on the ground in the half-built house from

-which he had taken the ladder, and the parallelograms were the

-openings in the walls into which doors and windows would afterwards be

-fitted. Against the faint light without, which he took to be that of

-the moonlit sky, he could see dimly the open joists of the floor above

-him, a piece of the herringbone strutting of which cut across the

-space for one of the upstairs windows.

-

-Feeling slightly better he tried his pocket, to find, as he expected,

-that the tracing was gone. Presently he attempted some more extensive

-movement. But at once an intolerable pang shot through him, and, sick

-and faint, he lay still. With a dawning horror he wondered whether his

-back might not be broken, or whether the blow on his head might not

-have produced paralysis. He groaned aloud and sank back once more into

-unconsciousness.

-

-After a time he became sentient again, sick and giddy, but more fully

-conscious. While he could not think collectedly, the idea became

-gradually fixed in his mind that he must somehow get away from his

-present position, partly lest his enemies might return to complete

-their work, and partly lest, if he stayed, he might die before the

-workmen came in the morning. Therefore, setting his teeth, he made a

-supreme effort and, in spite of the terrible pain in his head,

-succeeded in turning over on to his hands and knees.

-

-In this new position he remained motionless for some time, but

-presently he began to crawl slowly and painfully out towards the road.

-At intervals he had to stop to recover himself, but at length after

-superhuman efforts he succeeded in reaching the paling separating the

-lot from Hopefield Avenue. There he sank down exhausted and for some

-time lay motionless in a state of coma.

-

-Suddenly he became conscious of the sound of light but rapid footsteps

-approaching on the footpath at the other side of the paling, and once

-more summoning all his resolution he nerved himself to listen. The

-steps drew nearer until he judged their owner was just passing and

-then he cried as loudly as he could: “Help!”

-

-The footsteps stopped and Cheyne gasped out: “Help! I’ve hurt my head:

-an accident.”

-

-There was a moment’s silence and then a girl’s voice sounded.

-

-“Where are you?”

-

-“Here,” Cheyne answered, “at the back of the fence.” He felt dimly

-that he ought to give some explanation of his predicament, and went on

-in weak tones: “I was looking through the house and fell. Can you help

-me?”

-

-“Of course,” the girl answered. “I’ll go to the police station in

-Cleeve Road—it’s only five minutes—and they will look after you in no

-time.”

-

-This was not what Cheyne wanted. He had not yet decided whether he

-would call in the police and he was too much upset at the moment to

-consider the point. In the meantime, therefore, it would be better if

-nothing was said.

-

-“Please not,” he begged. “Just send a taxi to take me to a hospital.”

-

-The girl hesitated, then replied: “All right. Let me see first if I

-can make you a bit more comfortable.”

-

-The effort of speaking and thinking had so overcome Cheyne that he

-sank back once more into a state of coma, and it was only half

-consciously that he felt his head being lifted and some soft thing

-like a folded coat being placed beneath. Then the girl’s pleasant

-voice said: “Now just stay quiet and I shall have a taxi here in a

-moment.” A further period of waiting ensued and he felt himself being

-lifted and carried a few steps. A jolting then began which so hurt his

-head that he fainted again, and for still further interminable ages he

-remembered no more.

-

-When he finally regained his faculties he found himself in bed,

-physically more comfortable than he could have believed possible, but

-utterly exhausted. He was content to lie motionless, not troubling as

-to where he was or how he came there. Presently he fell asleep and

-when he woke he plucked up energy enough to open his eyes.

-

-It was light and he saw that he was in hospital. Several other beds

-were in the ward and a nurse was doing something at the end of the

-room. Presently she came over, saw that he was awake, and smiled at

-him.

-

-“Better?” she said cheerily.

-

-“I think so,” he answered weakly. “Where am I, nurse?”

-

-“In the Albert Edward Hospital. You’ve had a nasty knock on your head,

-but you’re going to be all right. Now you’re to keep quiet and not

-talk.”

-

-Cheyne didn’t want to talk and he lay motionless, luxuriating in the

-complete cessation of effort. After a time a doctor came and looked at

-him, but it was too much trouble to be interested about the doctor,

-and in any case he soon disappeared. Sometimes when he opened his eyes

-the nurse was there and sometimes she wasn’t, and other people seemed

-to drift about for no very special reason. Then it was dark in the

-ward, evidently night again. The next day the same thing happened, and

-so for many days.

-

-He had been troubled with the vague thoughts of his mother and sister,

-and on one occasion when he was feeling a little less tired than usual

-he had called the nurse and asked her to write to his sister, saying

-that he had met with a slight accident and was staying on in town for

-a few days. Miss Cheyne telegraphed to know if she could help, but the

-nurse, without troubling her patient, had replied: “Not at present.”

-

-At last there came a time when Cheyne began to feel more his own man

-and able, without bringing on an intolerable headache, to think

-collectedly about his situation. And at once two points arose in his

-mind upon which he felt an immediate decision must be made.

-

-The first was: What answer should he return to the inevitable

-questions he would be asked as to how he met with his injury? Should

-he lodge an information against Messrs. Dangle, Sime and Co., accuse

-them of attempted murder and put the machinery of the law in motion

-against them? Or should he stick to his tale that an accident had

-happened, and keep the affair of Hopefield Avenue to himself?

-

-After anxious consideration he decided on the latter alternative. If

-he were to tell the police now he would find it hard to explain why he

-had not done so earlier. Moreover, with returning strength came back

-the desire which he had previously experienced, to meet these men on

-their own ground and himself defeat them. He remembered how

-exceedingly nearly he had done so on this occasion. Had it not been

-for the accident of something being required from the garden or

-outhouse he would have got clear away, and he hoped for better luck

-next time.

-

-A third consideration also weighed with him. He was not sure how far

-he himself had broken the law. Housebreaking and burglary were serious

-crimes, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that others might not

-consider his excuse for these actions as valid as he did himself. In

-fact he was not sure how he stood legally. Under the circumstances

-would his proper course not have been to lodge an information against

-Dangle and Sime immediately on getting ashore from the _Enid_, and let

-the police with a search warrant recover Price’s letter? But he saw at

-once that that would have been useless. The men would have denied the

-theft, and he could not have proved it. His letter to his bank manager

-would have been evidence that he had handed it over to them of his own

-free will. No, to go to the police would not have got him anywhere. In

-his own eyes he had been right to act as he had, and his only course

-now was to pursue the same policy and keep the police out of it.

-

-When, therefore, a couple of days later the doctor, who had been

-puzzled by the affair, questioned him on it, he made up a tale. He

-replied that he had for some time been looking for a house in the

-suburbs, that the outline of that in question had appealed to him, and

-that he had climbed in to see the internal accommodation. In the

-semidarkness he had fallen, striking his head on a heap of bricks. He

-had been unconscious for some time, but had then been able to crawl to

-the street, where the lady had been kind enough to have him taken to

-the hospital.

-

-This brought him back to the second point which had been occupying his

-mind since he had regained the power of consecutive thought: the lady.

-What exactly had she done for him? How had she got him to the hospital

-and secured his admission? Had she taken a taxi, and if so, had she

-herself paid for it? Cheyne felt that he must see her to learn these

-particulars and to thank her for her kindness and help.

-

-He broached the subject to the nurse, who laughed and said she had

-been expecting the question. Miss Merrill had brought him herself to

-the hospital and had since called up a couple of times to inquire for

-him. The nurse presumed the young lady had herself paid for the taxi,

-as no question about the matter had been raised.

-

-This information seemed to Cheyne to involve communication with Miss

-Merrill at the earliest possible moment. The nurse would not let him

-write himself, but at his dictation she sent a line expressing his

-gratitude for the lady’s action and begging leave to call on his

-leaving the hospital.

-

-In answer to this there was a short note signed “Joan Merrill,” which

-stated that the writer was pleased to hear that Mr. Cheyne was

-recovering and that she would see him if he called. The note was

-headed 17 Horne Terrace, Burton Street, Chelsea. Cheyne admired the

-hand and passed a good deal of his superabundant time speculating as

-to the personality of the writer and wondering what a Chelsea lady

-could have been doing in the Hendon suburbs after midnight on the date

-of his adventure. When, therefore, a few days later he was discharged

-from the hospital, he betook himself to Chelsea with more than a

-little eagerness.

-

-Horne Terrace proved to be a block of workers’ flats, and inquiries at

-No. 17 produced the information that Miss Merrill occupied Flat No.

-12—the top floor on the left-hand side. Speculating still further as

-to the personality of a lady who would choose such a dwelling, Cheyne

-essayed researches into the upper regions. A climb which left him weak

-and panting after his sojourn in bed brought him to the tenth floor,

-on which one of the doors bore the number he sought. To recover

-himself before knocking he felt constrained to sit down for a few

-moments on the stairs, and as he was thus resting the door of No. 12

-opened and a girl came out.

-

-She was of middle height, slender and willowy, though the lines of her

-figure were somewhat concealed by the painter’s blue overall which she

-wore. She was not beautiful in the classic sense, yet but few would

-have failed to find pleasure in the sight of her pretty, pleasant,

-kindly face, with its straightforward expression, and the direct gaze

-of her hazel eyes. Her face was rather thin and her chin rather sharp

-for perfect symmetry, but her nose tilted adorably and the arch of her

-eyebrows was delicacy itself. Her complexion was pale, but with the

-pallor of perfect health. But her great glory was her hair. It covered

-her head with a crown of burnished gold, and though in Cheyne’s

-opinion it lost much of its beauty from being shingled, it gave her an

-aureole like that of a medieval saint in a stained glass window. Like

-a saint, indeed, she seemed to Cheyne; a very human and approachable

-saint, it is true, but a saint for all that. Seated on the top step of

-the stairs he was transfixed by the unexpected vision, and remained

-staring over his shoulder at her while he endeavored to collect his

-scattered wits.

-

-The sight of a strange young man seated on the steps outside her door

-seemed equally astonishing to the vision, and she promptly stopped and

-stood staring at Cheyne. So they remained for an appreciable time,

-until Cheyne, flushed and abashed, stumbled to his feet and plunged

-into apologies.

-

-As a result of his somewhat incoherent explanation a light dawned on

-her face and she smiled.

-

-“Oh, you’re Mr. Cheyne,” she exclaimed. She looked at him very

-searchingly, then invited: “But of course! Won’t you come in?”

-

-He followed her into No. 12. It proved to be a fair-sized room fitted

-up partly as a sitting room and partly as a studio. A dormer window

-close to the fireplace gave on an expanse of roofs and chimneys with,

-in a gap between two houses, a glimpse of the lead-colored waters of

-the river. In the partially covered ceiling was a large skylight which

-lit up a model’s throne, and an easel bearing a half-finished study of

-a woman’s head. Other canvases, mostly figures in various stages of

-completion, were ranged round the walls, and the usual artist’s

-paraphernalia of brushes and palettes and color tubes lay about. Drawn

-up to the fire were a couple of easy-chairs, books and ashtrays lay on

-an occasional table, while on another table was a tea equipage. A door

-beside the fireplace led to what was presumably the lady’s bedroom.

-

-“Can you find a seat?” she went on, indicating the larger of the two

-armchairs. “You have come at a propitious moment. I was just about to

-make tea.”

-

-“That sounds delightful,” Cheyne declared. “I came at the first moment

-that I thought I decently could. I was discharged from the hospital

-this morning and I thought I couldn’t let a day pass without coming to

-try at least to express my thanks for what you did for me.”

-

-Miss Merrill had filled an aluminum kettle from a tap at a small sink

-and now placed it on a gas stove.

-

-“We’ll suppose the thanks expressed, all due and right and proper,”

-she answered. “But I’ll tell you what you can do. Light the stove! It

-makes such a plop I hate to go near it.”

-

-Cheyne, having duly produced the expected plop, returned to his

-armchair and took up again the burden of his tale.

-

-“But that’s all very well, Miss Merrill; awfully good of you and all

-that,” he protested, “but it doesn’t really meet the case at all. If

-you hadn’t come along and played the good Samaritan I should have

-died. I was—”

-

-“If you don’t stop talking about it I shall begin to wish you had,”

-she smiled. “How did the accident happen? I should be interested to

-hear that, because I’ve thought about it and haven’t been able to

-imagine any way it could have come about.”

-

-“I want to tell you.” Cheyne looked into her clear eyes and suddenly

-said more than he had intended. “In fact, I should like to tell you

-the whole thing from the beginning. It’s rather a queer tale. You

-mayn’t believe it, but I think it would interest you. But first—please

-don’t be angry, but you must let me ask the question—did you pay for

-the taxi or whatever means you took to get me to the hospital?”

-

-She laughed.

-

-“Well, you are persistent. However, I suppose I may allow you to pay

-for that. It was five and six, if you must know, and a shilling to the

-man because he helped to carry you and took no end of trouble.” She

-blushed slightly as if recognizing the unconscious admission. “A whole

-six and six you owe me.”

-

-“Is that all, Miss Merrill? Do tell me if there was anything else.”

-

-“There was nothing else, Mr. Cheyne. That squares everything between

-us.”

-

-“By Jove! That’s the last thing it does! But if I mustn’t speak of

-that, I mustn’t. But please tell me this also. I understood from the

-nurse that you came with me to hospital. I am horrified every time I

-think of your having so much trouble, and I should like to understand

-how it all happened.”

-

-“There’s not much to tell,” Miss Merrill answered. “It was all very

-simple and straightforward. There happened to be a garage in the main

-street, quite close, and I went there and got a taxi. It was very

-dark, and when the driver and I looked over the fence we could not see

-you, but the driver fortunately had a flash lamp for examining his

-engine, and with its help we saw that you had fainted. We found you

-very awkward to get out.” She smiled and her face lighted up

-charmingly. “We had to drag you round to the side of the building

-where there was a wire paling instead of the close sheeted fence in

-front. I held up the wires and the cabby dragged you through. Then

-when we got you into the cab I had to go along too, because the cabby

-said he wouldn’t take what might easily be a dead body—a corp, he

-called it—without someone to account for its presence. He talked of

-you as if you were a sack of coal.”

-

-Cheyne was really upset by the recital.

-

-“Good Lord!” he cried. “I can’t say how distressed I am to know what I

-let you in for. I can’t ever forget it. All right, I won’t,” he added

-as she held up her hand. “Go on, please. I want to hear it all.”

-

-Miss Merrill’s hazel eyes twinkled as she continued:

-

-“By the time we got to the hospital I was sure that nothing would save

-me from being hanged for murder. But there was no trouble. I simply

-told my story, left my name and address, and that was all. Now tell me

-what really happened to you; or rather wait until we’ve had tea.”

-

-Cheyne sat back in his chair admiring the easy grace with which she

-moved about as she prepared the meal. She was really an awfully nice

-looking girl, he thought; not perhaps exactly pretty, but jolly

-looking, the kind of girl it is a pleasure just to sit down and watch.

-And as they chatted over tea he discovered that she had a mind of her

-own. Indeed, she showed a nimble wit and a shrewd if rather quaint

-outlook on men and things.

-

-“You mentioned Dartmouth just now,” she remarked presently. “Do you

-know it well?”

-

-“Why, I live there.”

-

-“Do you really? Do you know people there called Beresford?”

-

-“Archie and Flo? Rather. They live on our road, but about half a mile

-nearer the town. Do you know them?”

-

-“Flo only. I’ve been going to stay with them two or three times,

-though for one reason or another it has always fallen through. I was

-at school with Flo—Flo Salter, she was then.”

-

-“By Jove! Archie is rather a pal of mine. Comes out yachting

-sometimes. A good sort.”

-

-“I’ve never met him, but I used to chum with Flo. Congratulations, Mr.

-Cheyne.”

-

-Cheyne stared at her and she smiled gaily across.

-

-“You haven’t said that the world is very small after all,” she

-explained.

-

-Cheyne laughed.

-

-“I didn’t think of it or I should,” he admitted. “But I hope you will

-come down to the Beresfords. I’d love to take you out in my yacht—that

-is, if you like yachting.”

-

-“That’s a promise,” the girl declared. “If I come I shall hold you to

-it.”

-

-When tea was removed and cigarettes were alight she returned to the

-subject of his adventure.

-

-“Yes,” Cheyne answered, “I should like to tell you the whole story if

-it really wouldn’t bore you. But,” he hesitated for a second, “you

-won’t mind my saying that it is simply desperately private. No hint of

-it must get out.”

-

-Her face clouded.

-

-“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I don’t want to hear it if it’s a secret. It

-doesn’t concern me anyway.”

-

-“Oh, but it does—now,” Cheyne protested. “If I don’t tell you now you

-will think that I am a criminal with something to hide, and I think I

-couldn’t bear that.”

-

-“No,” she contradicted, “you think that you are in my debt and bound

-to tell me.”

-

-He laughed.

-

-“Not at all,” he retorted, “since contradiction is the order of the

-day. If that was it I could easily have put you off with the yarn I

-told the doctor. I want to tell you because I think you’d be

-interested, and because it really would be such a relief to discuss

-the thing with some rational being.”

-

-She looked at him keenly as she demanded: “Honor bright?”

-

-“Honor bright,” he repeated, meeting her eyes.

-

-“Then you may,” she decided. “You may also smoke a pipe if you like.”

-

-“The story opens about six weeks ago with a visit to Plymouth,” he

-began, and he told her of his adventure in the Edgecombe Hotel, of the

-message about the burglary, of his ride home and what he found there,

-and of the despondent detective and his failure to discover the

-criminals. Then he described what took place on the launch _Enid_, his

-search of the coast towns and discovery of the trail of the men, his

-following them to London and to the Hopefield Avenue house, his

-adventure therein, the blow on his head, his coming to himself to find

-the tracing gone, his crawl to the fence and his relief at the sound

-of her footsteps approaching.

-

-She listened with an ever-increasing eagerness, which rose to positive

-excitement as he reached the climax of the story.

-

-“My word!” she cried with shining eyes when he had finished. “To think

-of such things happening here in sober old London in the twentieth

-century! Why, it’s like the _Arabian Nights_! Who would believe such a

-story if they read it in a book? _What_ fun! And you have no idea what

-the tracing was?”

-

-“No more than you have, Miss Merrill.”

-

-“It was a cipher,” she declared breathlessly. “A cipher telling where

-there was buried treasure! Isn’t that all that is wanted to make it

-complete?”

-

-“Now you’re laughing at me,” he complained. “Don’t you really believe

-my story?”

-

-“Believe it?” she retorted. “Of course I believe it. How can you

-suggest such a thing? I think it’s perfectly splendid! I can’t say how

-splendid I think it. It _was_ brave of you to go into that house in

-the way you did. I can’t think how you had the nerve. But now what are

-you going to do? What is the next step?”

-

-“I don’t know. I’ve thought and thought while I was in that blessed

-hospital and I don’t see the next move. What would you advise?”

-

-“I? Oh, Mr. Cheyne, I couldn’t advise you. I’m thrilled more than I

-can say, but I don’t know enough for that.”

-

-“Would you give up and go to the police?”

-

-“Never.” Her eyes flashed. “I’d go on and fight the gang. You’ll win

-yet, Mr. Cheyne. Something tells me.”

-

-A wild idea shot into Cheyne’s mind and he sat for a moment

-motionless. Then swayed by a sudden impulse, he turned to the girl and

-said excitedly:

-

-“Miss Merrill, let’s join forces. You help me.” He paused, then went

-on quickly: “Not in the actual thing, I mean, of course. I couldn’t

-allow you to get mixed up in what might turn out to be dangerous. But

-let me come and discuss the thing with you. It would be such a help.”

-

-“No!” she said, her eyes shining. “I’ll join in if you like—I’d love

-it! But only if I share the fun. I’m either in altogether or out

-altogether.”

-

-He stood up and faced her.

-

-“Do you mean it?” he asked seriously.

-

-“Of course I mean it,” she answered as she got up also.

-

-“Then shake hands on it!”

-

-Solemnly they shook hands, and so the firm of Cheyne and Merrill came

-into being.

-

-

-

-Chapter VIII

-

-A Council of War

-

-Cheyne returned to his hotel that afternoon in a jubilant frame of

-mind. He had been depressed from his illness and his failure at the

-house in Hopefield Avenue and had come to believe he was wasting his

-time on a wild-goose chase. But now all his former enthusiasm had

-returned. Once again he was out to pit his wits against this

-mysterious gang of scoundrels, and he was all eagerness to be once

-more in the thick of the fray.

-

-Miss Merrill had told him something about herself before he had left.

-It appeared that she was the daughter of a doctor in Gloucester who

-had died some years previously. Her mother had died while she was a

-small child, and she was now alone in the world save for a sister who

-was married and living in Edinburgh. Her father had left her enough to

-live on fairly comfortably, but by cutting down her expenditure on

-board and lodging to the minimum she had been able to find the

-wherewithal necessary to enable her to take up seriously her hobby of

-painting. She was getting on well with that. She had not yet sold any

-pictures, but her art masters and the dealers to whom she had shown

-her work were encouraging. She also made a study of architectural

-details—moldings, string courses, capitals, etc.—which, having

-photographed them with her half-plate camera and flashlight apparatus,

-she worked into decorative panels and head and tail pieces for

-magazine illustration and poster work. With these also she was having

-fair success.

-

-Cheyne was enthused by the idea of this girl starting out thus boldly

-to carve, singlehanded, her career in the world, and he spent as much

-time that evening thinking of her pluck and of her chances of success

-as of the mysterious affair in which now they were both engaged.

-

-His first visit next day was to a man called Hake, whom he had met

-during the war and who was now a clerk in one of the departments of

-the Admiralty. From him he received definite confirmation that the

-whole of the Hull barony story was a fabrication of James Dangle’s

-nimble brain. No such diplomat as St. John Price had ever existed,

-though it was true that Arnold Price had at the time in question been

-third officer of the _Maurania_. Hake added a further interesting

-fact, though whether it was connected with Cheyne’s affair there was

-nothing to indicate. Price, the real Arnold Price through whom the

-whole mystery had arisen, had recently disappeared. He had left his

-ship at Bombay on a few days’ leave and had not returned. At least he

-had not returned up to the latest date of which Hake had heard. Cheyne

-begged his friend to let him know immediately if anything was learned

-as to Price’s fate, which the other promised to do.

-

-In the afternoon Cheyne once more climbed the ten flights of stairs in

-No. 17 Horne Terrace, but this time he took the ascent slowly enough

-to avoid having to sit down to recover at the top. Miss Merrill opened

-to his knock. She was painting and a girl sat on the throne, the

-original of the picture he had seen the day before. He was told that

-he might sit down and smoke so long as he kept perfectly quiet and did

-not interrupt, and for half an hour he lay in the big armchair

-watching the face on the canvas grow more and more like that of the

-model. Then a little clock struck four silvery chimes, Miss Merrill

-threw down her brushes and palette and said “Time!” and the model

-relaxed her position. Both girls disappeared into the bedroom and

-emerged presently, the model in outdoor garb and Miss Merrill without

-her overall. The model let herself out with a “Good-afternoon, Miss

-Merrill,” while the lady of the house took up the aluminum kettle and

-began to fill it.

-

-“Gas stove,” she said tersely.

-

-Cheyne produced the expected plop, then stood with his back to the

-fire, watching his hostess’s preparations for tea. The removal of the

-overall had revealed a light green knitted jumper of what he believed

-was artificial silk, with a skirt of a darker shade of the same color.

-A simple dress, he thought, but tremendously effective. How splendidly

-it set off the red gold of her hair, and how charmingly it revealed

-the graceful lines of her slender figure! With her comely, pleasant

-face and her clear, direct eyes she looked one who would make a good

-pal.

-

-“Well now, and what’s the program?” she said briskly when tea had been

-disposed of.

-

-Cheyne began to fill his pipe.

-

-“I scarcely know,” he said slowly. “I’m afraid I’ve not any cut and

-dried scheme to put up except that I already mentioned: to get into

-that house somehow and have a look around.”

-

-She moved nervously.

-

-“I don’t like it,” she declared. “There are many objections to it.”

-

-“I know there are, but what can you suggest?”

-

-“First of all there’s the actual danger,” she went on, continuing her

-own train of thought and ignoring his question. “These people have

-tried to murder you once already, and if they find you in their house

-again they’ll not bungle it a second time.”

-

-“I’ll take my chance of that.”

-

-“But have you thought that they have an easier way out of it than

-that? All they have to do is to hand you over to the nearest policeman

-on a charge of burglary. You would get two or three years or maybe

-more.”

-

-“They wouldn’t dare. Remember what I could tell about them.”

-

-“Who would believe you? They, the picture of injured innocence, would

-deny the whole thing. You would say they attempted to murder you. They

-would ridicule the idea. And—there you are.”

-

-“But I could prove it. There was my injured head, and you found me at

-that house.”

-

-“And what did you yourself tell the doctor had happened to you? No,

-you wouldn’t have the ghost of a case.”

-

-“But Susan Dangle was at our house for several weeks. She could be

-identified.”

-

-“How would that help? She would of course admit being there, but would

-deny everything else. And you couldn’t prove anything. Why, the gang

-would point out that it was Susan’s presence at your house that had

-suggested the whole story to you.”

-

-Cheyne shook his head.

-

-“I’m not so sure of that,” he declared. “There would be a good deal of

-corroborative evidence on my side. And then there was Blessington at

-the hotel at Plymouth. He could be identified by the staff.”

-

-“That’s true,” she admitted. “But even that wouldn’t help you much. He

-would deny having drugged you and you couldn’t prove he had. No, the

-more I think of it the better their position seems to be.”

-

-“Well, then, what’s the alternative?”

-

-She shook her head and for a moment silence reigned. Then she went on:

-

-“I’ve been thinking about the gang since you told me the story—it’s

-another point, of course—but it occurs to me they must have had a fine

-old shock on the morning after your visit.”

-

-Cheyne looked up sharply.

-

-“What do you mean?” he asked.

-

-“Why, they must have been worried to death to know what had happened

-to you. Your dead body wasn’t found—they’d soon have heard of it if it

-had been. And no information was given to the police about the

-affair—they’d soon have heard of that too. And you haven’t struck at

-them. Probably they’ve made inquiries at Dartmouth and found you

-haven’t gone home. They’ll absolutely be scared into fits to know

-whether you’re alive or dead, or what blow may not be being built up

-against them. Though they richly deserve it, I don’t envy them their

-position.”

-

-This was a new idea to Cheyne.

-

-“I hadn’t thought of that,” he returned, then he laughed. “Yes, it

-didn’t work out quite as they wanted, did it? But I expect they know

-all about me. Don’t you think that under the circumstances they would

-have gone round making discreet inquiries at the hospitals?”

-

-“Well, that is at least something to be done. First job: find out if

-possible if anyone asked about you at the Albert Edward. If that

-fails, same question elsewhere.”

-

-“Right: that’s an idea. But it is not enough.” Cheyne shook his head

-to give emphasis to his remark. “We must do something more. And the

-only thing I can think of is to get into that house again and see what

-I can find. I’ll risk the police.”

-

-Miss Merrill was evidently thrilled, but not converted.

-

-“I shouldn’t be in too great a hurry,” she counseled. “How would it do

-if we went out there first and had a look around?”

-

-“I don’t see that we should gain much by looking at the outside of the

-house.”

-

-“You never know. Let’s go as soon as it gets dark tonight. If we see

-nothing no harm is done.”

-

-Cheyne was not averse to the idea of an excursion in the company of

-his new friend, and he readily agreed, provided Miss Merrill gave her

-word not to run into any danger.

-

-“I think you should put on a hat with a low brim and wear something

-with a high collar,” he suggested. “I’ll do the same, and in the dark

-we’re not likely to be noticed even if any of the gang are about.”

-

-Miss Merrill pointed out that as she was unknown to the gang, it did

-not matter if her features were seen, but Cheyne was insistent.

-

-“You don’t know,” he said. “We might both be seen, and then it would

-be as bad for you as for me. There’ll be unavoidable risks enough in

-this job without taking on any we needn’t.”

-

-They discussed their plans in detail, then Cheyne remarked: “Now

-that’s settled, what’s wrong with your coming and having a bit of

-dinner with me as a prelude to adventure?”

-

-“That sounds bookish. Are you keen on books? I’ll go and have dinner

-if I may pay my share, not otherwise.”

-

-Cheyne protested, but she was adamant. It appeared further she was a

-great reader, and they discussed books until it was time to go out.

-Then after dinner at an Italian restaurant in Soho they took the tube

-to Hendon and began to walk towards Hopefield Avenue.

-

-The night was chilly for mid-May, but calm and dry. It would soon be

-quite dark out of the radius of the street lamps, as the quarter moon

-had not yet risen and clouds obscured the light of the stars. In the

-main street there was plenty of traffic, but Hopefield Avenue was

-deserted and their footsteps rang out loudly on the pavements.

-

-“Let’s walk past it,” Miss Merrill suggested, “and perhaps we can hide

-and watch what goes on.”

-

-They did so. Laurel Lodge looked as before except that the lower front

-windows were lighted up. Building operations, however, had been much

-advanced in the six weeks since Cheyne’s last visit. The almost

-completed walls of a house stood on the next lot, and the house in

-which the supposed dead body of Cheyne had been abandoned was

-practically complete.

-

-“Half-finished houses are the stunt in this game,” Cheyne observed.

-“Suppose we go back to that next door to our friends and see from

-there if anything happens.”

-

-Five minutes later they had passed along the lane at the back of the

-houses and taken up their positions in what was evidently to be the

-hall of the new house. A small window looked out from its side, not

-forty feet from the hall door of Laurel Lodge. Cheyne made a seat of a

-plank laid across two little heaps of bricks and they sat down and

-waited.

-

-They were so ignorant as to the steps usually taken by a detective in

-such a situation that their idea of watching the house was simply

-adopted in the Micawberish hope that somehow something might turn up

-to help them. What that something might be they had no idea. But with

-the extraordinary luck which so often seems reserved for those who

-blindly plunge, they had not waited ten minutes before they received

-some really important information.

-

-The unconscious agent was a postman. They saw him first pass near a

-lamp farther down the street, and then watched him gradually approach,

-calling in one house after another. Presently he reached the gate of

-Laurel Lodge, and opening it, passed inside.

-

-From where they sat, the watchers, being in line with the front of the

-house, were not actually in sight of the hall door. But there was a

-heap of building material in front of their hiding place and Cheyne,

-slipping hurriedly out, crouched behind the pile in such a position

-that he could see what might take place.

-

-In due course the postman reached the door, but instead of delivering

-his letters and retreating, he knocked and stood waiting. The door was

-opened by a woman, and her silhouette against the lighted interior

-showed she was not Susan Dangle. The woman was short, stout and

-elderly.

-

-“Evening, ma’am,” Cheyne heard the man say. “A parcel for you.”

-

-The woman thanked him and closed the door, while the postman crossed

-to a house on the opposite side of the street. As soon as his back was

-turned Cheyne left his hiding-place, and was strolling along the road

-when the postman again stepped on to the footpath.

-

-“Good-evening, postman,” said Cheyne. “I’m looking for people called

-Dangle somewhere about here. Could you tell me where they live?”

-

-The postman stopped and answered civilly:

-

-“They’ve left here, sir, or at least there were people of that name

-here till a few weeks ago. They lived over there.” He pointed to

-Laurel Lodge.

-

-Cheyne made a gesture of annoyance.

-

-“Moved; have they? Then I’ve missed them. I suppose you couldn’t tell

-me where they’ve gone?”

-

-The postman shook his head.

-

-“Sorry, sir, but I couldn’t. If you was to go to the post office in

-Hendon they might know. But I couldn’t say nothing about it.”

-

-Nor could the postman remember the exact date of the Dangles’

-departure. It was five or six weeks since or maybe more, but he

-couldn’t say for sure.

-

-Cheyne returned to Miss Merrill with his news. A sudden flitting on

-the Dangles’ part seemed indicated, born doubtless of panic at the

-disappearance of the supposed corpse, and if this was the cause of

-their move, no applications at the post office or elsewhere would bear

-fruit.

-

-“We should have foreseen this,” Cheyne declared gloomily. “If you

-think of it, to make themselves scarce was about the only thing they

-could do. If I was alive and conscious they couldn’t tell how soon

-they might have a visit from the police.”

-

-“Well, we’ve got to find them,” his companion answered. “I’ll begin by

-making inquiries at the house. No,” as Cheyne demurred, “it’s my turn.

-You stay here and listen.”

-

-She slipped out on to the road, and passing through the gate of Laurel

-Lodge, rang the bell. The same elderly woman came to the door and Miss

-Merrill asked if Miss Dangle was at home.

-

-The woman was communicative if not illuminating. No one called Dangle

-lived in the house, though she understood her predecessors had borne

-that name. She and her son had moved in only three weeks before, and

-they had only taken the house a fortnight before that. She did not

-know anything of the Dangles. Oh, no, she had not taken the house

-furnished. She had brought her own furniture with her. Indeed yes,

-moving was a horrible business and so expensive.

-

-“That’s something about the furniture,” Miss Merrill said, when

-breathless and triumphant she had rejoined Cheyne. “If they took their

-furniture we have only to find out who moved it for them. Then we can

-find where it was taken.”

-

-“That’s the ticket,” Cheyne declared admiringly. “But how on earth are

-we going to find the removers? Have you any ideas?”

-

-Miss Merrill looked at him quizzically.

-

-“Just full of ’em,” she smiled, “and to prove it I’ll make you a bet.

-I’ll bet you the price of our next dinner that I have the information

-inside half an hour. What time is it? Half-past nine. Very well:

-before ten o’clock. But the information may cost you anything up to a

-pound. Are you on?”

-

-“Of course I’m on,” Cheyne returned heartily, though in reality he was

-not too pleased by the trend of affairs. “Do you want the pound now?”

-

-“No, I have it. But whatever the information costs me you may pay. Now

-_au revoir_ until ten o’clock.”

-

-She glided away before Cheyne could reply, and for some minutes he sat

-alone in the half-built porch wondering what she was doing and wishing

-he could smoke. It was cold sitting still in the current of chilly air

-which poured through the gaping brickwork. He felt tired and

-despondent, and realized against his will that he had been severely

-shaken by his experiences and was by no means as yet completely

-recovered. If it was not for this splendid girl he would have been

-strongly tempted to throw up the sponge, and he thought with longing

-of the deep armchairs in the smoking room at the hotel, or better

-still, in Miss Merrill’s studio.

-

-Presently he saw her. She was crossing the street in front of Laurel

-Lodge. She was directly in the light of a lamp and he could not but

-admire her graceful carriage and the dainty way in which she tripped

-along.

-

-She pushed open the gate of a house directly opposite and disappeared

-into the shadow behind its encircling hedge. In a moment she was out

-again and had entered the gate of the next house. There she remained

-for some time; indeed the hands on the luminous dial of Cheyne’s watch

-showed three minutes to the hour before she reappeared. She recrossed

-the road and presently Cheyne heard her whisper: “That was a near

-squeak for my dinner! It’s not after ten, is it?”

-

-“Half a minute before,” breathed Cheyne, continuing eagerly: “Well,

-what luck?”

-

-“Watterson & Swayne. Vans came the day after your adventure.”

-

-Cheyne whistled below his breath.

-

-“My word!” he whispered, “but you’re simply It! How in all this

-earthly world did you find that out?”

-

-She chuckled delightedly.

-

-“Easy as winking,” she declared. “Got it fifth shot. I called at five

-of the houses overlooking the Laurel gate, and pretended to be a woman

-detective after the Dangles. I was mysterious about the crimes they

-had committed and got the servants interested. There were servants at

-three of the houses—the others I let alone. I offered the servants

-five shillings for the name of the vans which had come to take the

-stuff, and the third girl remembered. I gave her the five shillings

-and told her I was good for another five if she could tell me the date

-of the moving, and after some time she was able to fix it. She

-remembered she had seen the vans on the day of a party at her

-sister’s, and she found the date of that from an old letter.”

-

-“Good for you! I say, Miss Merrill, if you’re going to carry on like

-this we shall soon have all we want. What’s the next step now?

-Inquiries at Watterson & Swayne’s?”

-

-“No,” she said decidedly, “the next step for you is bed. You’re not

-really well enough yet for this sort of thing. We’ve done enough for

-tonight. We’ll go home.”

-

-Cheyne protested, but as, apart from his health, it was obvious that

-inquiries could not at that hour be instituted at the furniture

-removers, he had to agree.

-

-“I shall go round and see them tomorrow morning,” he remarked as they

-walked back along Hopefield Avenue. “I suppose you couldn’t manage to

-come at that time? Or shall I wait until the afternoon?”

-

-She shook her head.

-

-“Neither,” she answered. “I shall be busy all day and you must just

-carry on.”

-

-Cheyne felt a surprisingly keen disappointment.

-

-“But mayn’t I come and report progress in the afternoon?” he begged.

-

-“Not until after four. I shall be painting up till then.”

-

-He wanted to see her home, but this she would not hear of, and soon he

-was occupying one of these deep chairs in the hotel smoking room whose

-allure had seemed so strong to him in the draughty porch of the

-half-built house. As he sat he thought over the turn which this

-evening’s inquiry had given to the affair in which he was engaged. It

-was clear enough now that Miss Merrill’s view had been correct and

-that the Dangles were scared stiff by the absence of information about

-the finding of his body. As he put himself in their place, he saw that

-flight was indeed their only course. What he marveled at was that they

-should have taken time to remove their furniture. From their point of

-view it must have been a horrible risk, and it undoubtedly left,

-through the carrying contractor, a certain clue to their whereabouts.

-

-But when Cheyne began his inquiries on the following morning he

-rapidly became less impressed with the certainty of the clue. A direct

-request at the firm’s office for Dangle’s address was met by a polite

-_non possumus_, and when during the dinner hour Cheyne succeeded in

-bribing a junior clerk to let him have the information, at a further

-interview the lad declared he could not find it. It was not until

-after five hours’ inquiry among the drivers of the various vans which

-entered and left the yard that he learned anything, and even then he

-found himself no further on. The furniture, which had been collected

-from an unoccupied house, had been stored and still remained in

-Messrs. Watterson & Swayne’s warehouses.

-

-It was a weary and disgruntled Cheyne who at six o’clock that evening

-dragged himself up the ten flights to Miss Merrill’s room. But when he

-was seated in her big armchair with his pipe going and had consumed a

-whisky and soda which she had poured out for him he began to feel that

-all was not necessarily lost and that life had compensations for

-failures in the role of amateur detective.

-

-She listened carefully to his tale of woe, finally dropping a word of

-sympathy with his disappointment and of praise for his efforts which

-left him thinking she was certainly the good pal he expected her to

-be.

-

-“But that’s not the worst,” he went on gloomily. “It’s bad enough that

-I have failed today, but it’s a great deal worse that I don’t know how

-I am going to do any better. Those Watterson & Swayne people simply

-_won’t_ give away any information, and I don’t see how else it’s to be

-got.”

-

-“There’s not much to go on certainly,” she admitted. “That’s where the

-police have the pull. They could go into that office and demand the

-Dangles’ address. You can’t. What about the others, that Sime and that

-Blessington? Could you trace them in any way?”

-

-Cheyne moved lazily in his chair.

-

-“I don’t see how,” he answered slowly. “We have little enough

-information about the Dangles, but there is less still about the

-others. We have practically nothing to go on. I wonder what a real

-detective would do in such a case. I feel perfectly certain he would

-find all four in a few hours.”

-

-“Ha! That gives me an idea.” She sat up and looked at him eagerly, and

-then in answer to his question went on: “What about that detective who

-was already engaged on the case, the one the manager of the Plymouth

-hotel recommended? Why not get hold of him and see what he can do? He

-was a private detective, wasn’t he—not connected with the police?”

-

-“He was, and I have his name and address. By Jove, Miss Merrill, it’s

-an idea! I’ll go round and see him in the morning. He’s a man I didn’t

-take to personally, but what does that matter if he’s good at his

-job?”

-

-Though Cheyne thus enthusiastically received his companion’s

-suggestion, he was not greatly enamored of the idea. As he said, he

-had not liked the man personally, and he would have preferred to have

-kept the affair in his own hands. But he felt bankrupt of ideas for

-carrying on the inquiry, and if a professional was to be brought in,

-this man whom he knew and who was vouched for by the manager of the

-Edgecombe should be as good as another. He decided, however, that he

-would not employ the fellow on the case as a whole. His job should be

-to find the quartet, and if and when he did that he could be paid his

-money and sent about his business. Cheyne felt that at this stage at

-all events he was not going to share the secret of the linen tracing.

-

-But Cheyne, like many another before him, was to learn the

-difficulties which beset the path of him who makes half confidences.

-

-

-

-Chapter IX

-

-Mr. Speedwell Plays His Hand

-

-Next morning Cheyne called at the offices of Messrs. Horton &

-Lavender’s Private Detective Agency and asked if their Mr. Speedwell

-was within. By good fortune Mr. Speedwell was, and a few seconds later

-Cheyne was ushered into the room of the quiet, despondent-looking man

-whom he had interviewed at Warren Lodge nearly two months earlier.

-

-“Glad to see you’re better, sir,” the detective greeted him. “I was

-expecting you would look in one of these days. You had my letter?”

-

-“No,” said Cheyne, considerably surprised, “and I should like to know

-why you were expecting me and how you know I was ill.”

-

-The man smiled deprecatingly.

-

-“If I was really up to my job I suppose I’d tell you that detectives

-knew everything, or at least that I did, but I never make any mystery

-between friends, leastwise when there isn’t any. I knew you were ill

-because I was down at Warren Lodge a month ago looking for you and

-Miss Cheyne told me, and I was expecting you to call because I wrote

-asking you to do so. However, if you didn’t get my letter, why then it

-seems to me I owe the pleasure of this visit to something else.”

-

-“You’re quite right,” said Cheyne. “You do. But before we get on to

-that, tell me what you called and wrote about.”

-

-“I’ll do so, sir. I called because I had got some information for you,

-and when I didn’t see you I wrote for the same reason asking you to

-look in here.”

-

-The man spoke civilly and directly, but yet there was something about

-him which rubbed Cheyne up the wrong way—something furtive in his

-manner, by which instinctively the other was repelled. It was

-therefore with rather less than his usual good-natured courtesy that

-Cheyne returned: “Well, here I am then. What is your information?”

-

-“I’ll tell you, sir. But first let me recall to your mind what

-I—acting for my firm—was asked to find out.” He stressed the words

-“acting for my firm,” and as he did so shot a keen questioning glance

-at Cheyne. The latter did not reply, and Speedwell, after pausing for

-a moment, went on:

-

-“I was employed—or rather my firm was employed”—what his point was

-Cheyne could not see, but he was evidently making one—“my firm was

-employed by the manager of the Edgecombe Hotel to investigate a case

-of alleged drugging which had taken place in the hotel. That was all,

-wasn’t it?”

-

-“That or matters arising therefrom,” Cheyne replied cautiously.

-

-The detective smiled foxily.

-

-“Ah, I see you have taken my meaning, Mr. Cheyne. That or matters

-arising directly therefrom. That, sir, is quite correct. Now, I have

-found out something about that. Not much, I admit, but still

-something. Though whether it is as much as you already are cognizant

-of is another matter.”

-

-Cheyne felt his temper giving way.

-

-“Look here,” he said sharply. “What are you getting at? I can’t spend

-the day here. If you’ve anything to say, for goodness’ sake get along

-and say it and have done with this beating about the bush.”

-

-Speedwell made a deprecating gesture.

-

-“Certainly, sir; as you will. But”—he gave a dry smile—“have you not

-overlooked the fact that you called in to consult me?”

-

-“I shall not do it now,” Cheyne said angrily. “Give me the information

-that you’re being paid for and that will complete our business.”

-

-“No, sir, but with the utmost respect that will only begin it. I’ll

-give you the information right away, but first I’d like to come to an

-understanding about this other business.”

-

-“What under the sun are you talking about? What other business?”

-

-“The breaking and entering.” Speedwell spoke now in a decisive,

-businesslike tone. “The breaking and entering of a house in Hopefield

-Avenue—Laurel Lodge, let us call it—on an evening just six weeks

-ago—on the fifth of April to be exact. I should really say the

-burglary, because there was also the theft of an important document.

-The owners of that document would be glad of information which would

-lead to the arrest of the thief.”

-

-This astounding statement, made in the calm matter-of-fact way in

-which the man was now speaking, took Cheyne completely aback. For a

-moment he hesitated. His character was direct and straightforward, but

-for the space of two seconds he was tempted to prevaricate, to admit

-no knowledge of the incidents referred to. Then his hot temper swept

-away all considerations of what might or might not be prudent, and he

-burst out: “Well, Mr. Speedwell, what of it? If you are so well

-informed as you pretend, you’ll be aware that the parties lost no

-document on that night. I don’t know what you’re after, but it looks

-uncommonly like an attempt at blackmail.”

-

-Mr. Speedwell seemed pained at the suggestion. He assured Cheyne that

-his remarks had been misinterpreted, and deprecated the fact that such

-an unpleasant word had been brought into the discussion. “All the

-same,” he concluded meaningly, “I am glad to have your assurance that

-the document in question was not stolen from the house.”

-

-Cheyne was not only mystified, but a trifle uneasy. He saw now that he

-had been maneuvered into a practical admission that he had committed

-burglary, and there was something in the way the detective had made

-his last remark that seemed vaguely sinister.

-

-“Well, what business of yours is it?” he said brusquely. “What do you

-hope to get out of it?”

-

-Speedwell nodded as he looked at the other out of his close-set

-furtive eyes.

-

-“Now, sir,” he answered approvingly, “that’s what I like. That’s

-coming to business, that is. I thought perhaps I could be of service

-to you, that’s all. Here are these parties looking for you to make a

-prosecution for burglary, and here you are looking for them for a

-paper they have. And here am I,” his face was inexpressibly sly, “in a

-position to help either party, as you might say. There’s an old

-saying, sir, that knowledge is power, and many a time I’ve thought

-it’s a true one.”

-

-“And you want to sell your knowledge?”

-

-“Isn’t it reasonable, _and_ natural? It’s my business to get

-knowledge, and I have to work hard to get it too. You wouldn’t have me

-give away the fruits of my work? It’s all I have to live by.”

-

-“Your knowledge belongs to your firm.”

-

-“No, sir, not in this case it doesn’t. All this work was done in my

-own time; it was my hobby, so to speak. Besides, my firm didn’t ask

-for the information and doesn’t want it.”

-

-“What do you want for it?”

-

-A momentary gleam appeared in Mr. Speedwell’s eyes, but he replied

-quietly and without emotion: “Two hundred pounds. Two hundred pounds

-and you shall hear all I know, and have my best help in whatever you

-want to do into the bargain. And in that case I won’t be able to tell

-the other parties where you are to be found, so being as their

-question was addressed to me and not to my firm.”

-

-“Two hundred pounds!” Cheyne cried. “I’ll see you far enough first.

-Confound your impertinence!” His anger rose and he almost choked.

-“Don’t you imagine you are going to blackmail me! But I’ll tell you

-what I am going to do. I’m going right in now to the head of your firm

-to let him know the way you conduct his business. Two hundred pounds.

-I don’t think!”

-

-He flung himself out of the room and called the girl in the outer

-office.

-

-“I want to see the principal of the firm,” he shouted. “It’s

-important. Either Mr. Horton or Mr. Lavender will do. As soon as

-possible, please.”

-

-The girl seemed half startled and half amused. “_Who_ did you want to

-see?” she asked.

-

-“Mr. Horton or Mr. Lavender,” Cheyne repeated firmly, fixing her with

-a wrathful stare.

-

-“I—I’m afraid I don’t know where they are,” she stammered, the corners

-of her mouth twitching. Yes, she _was_ laughing at him. Confound her

-impertinence also!

-

-“You don’t know?” he shouted furiously. “When will they be in?”

-

-The girl looked scared, then her amusement evidently overcame her

-apprehension and she giggled.

-

-“Not today, I’m afraid,” she answered. “You see Mr. Horton has been

-dead over ten years and Mr. Lavender at least five.”

-

-Cheyne glared at her as he asked thickly:

-

-“Then who is the present principal?”

-

-“Mr. Speedwell.”

-

-“Damn,” said Cheyne: then as he looked at the smiling face of the

-pretty clerk he suddenly felt ashamed of himself.

-

-“I’m sure I beg your pardon,” he said, and as he saw how neatly he had

-got his desserts he laughed ruefully himself. This confounded temper

-of his, he thought, was always putting him into the wrong. He was just

-determining for the thousandth time that he would be more careful not

-to give way to it in future when Mr. Speedwell’s melancholy voice fell

-on his ears.

-

-“Ah, that is better, sir. Won’t you come back and let us resume our

-discussion?”

-

-Cheyne re-entered the private room.

-

-“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he said, “but really your proposition

-was so very—I may say, amazing, that it upset me. Of course you were

-not serious in what you said?”

-

-Mr. Speedwell leaned forward and became the personification of suave

-amiability.

-

-“I sell my wares in the best market, Mr. Cheyne,” he declared. “You

-couldn’t blame me for that; it’s only business. But I don’t want to

-drive a hard bargain with you. I would rather have an amicable

-settlement. I’m always one for peace and goodwill. An amicable

-settlement, sir; that’s what I suggest.” He beamed on Cheyne and

-rubbed his hands genially together.

-

-“If you have information which would be useful to me I am prepared to

-pay its full value. As a matter of fact I called for that purpose. But

-you couldn’t have any worth two hundred pounds or anything like it.”

-

-“No? Well, just what do you want to know?”

-

-“Dangle’s address.”

-

-“I can give you that. Anything else?”

-

-Cheyne hesitated. Should he ask for all the information he could get

-about the sinister quartet and their mysterious activities? He had

-practically admitted the burglary. Should he not make the most of his

-opportunity? In for a penny, in for a pound.

-

-“Did you ever hear of a man called Sime?” he asked.

-

-“Of course, sir. Number Three of the quartet.”

-

-“I should like his address also.”

-

-“I can give it to you. And Blessington’s?”

-

-“Yes, Blessington’s too.”

-

-Cheyne was amazed by the knowledge of this Speedwell. He would give a

-good deal to find out how he had obtained it.

-

-“What are the businesses of these men?”

-

-“That,” said Mr. Speedwell, “is three questions. First: What is

-Dangle’s business? Second: What is Sime’s business? Third: What is

-Blessington’s business? Yes, sir, I can answer these questions also.”

-

-“How did you find all that out?”

-

-Mr. Speedwell smiled and shook his head.

-

-“There, sir, you have me. I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. You see,

-if we professional detectives were to give away our little methods to

-you amateur gentlemen we should soon be out of business. You, sir,

-will appreciate the position. It would be parting with our capital,

-and no business man can afford to do that. Anything else, Mr. Cheyne?”

-

-“You mentioned a paper?”

-

-“Yes, sir?”

-

-“Where is it?”

-

-“That I can answer partially.”

-

-“What is it about?”

-

-“I do not know.”

-

-“Ah, then there is something you do not know. What is the enterprise

-these men are going into in connection with the paper?”

-

-“That, Mr. Cheyne, I do not know either. You see I am perfectly open

-with you. I have been conducting a sort of desultory inquiry into

-these men’s affairs, partly because I was interested, partly because I

-thought I could turn my information into money. I have reached the

-point indicated in my answers. I can proceed with the investigation

-and learn the rest of what you wish to know, assuming of course that

-we come to suitable terms. You can have the information I have already

-gained now, with of course the same proviso.”

-

-“What are your terms?”

-

-“Twenty pounds a question. You have asked six questions to which I can

-give complete answers and one which I can answer partially; say six

-twenties and one ten—total, one hundred and thirty pounds.”

-

-“But it’s iniquitous, scandalous, extortionate! I shouldn’t think of

-paying such a sum.”

-

-“No, sir? That’s a matter for yourself alone. It seems to me, then,

-that our business is completed.” The man paused, then as Cheyne made

-no move continued confidentially. “You see, sir, I needn’t tell a

-gentleman like yourself that value is relative and not absolute. If I

-hadn’t another party willing to pay for my information about you I

-couldn’t perhaps afford to refuse what you might be pleased to offer.

-But if I don’t get my hundred and thirty from you I’ll get it from the

-other party. It’s a matter of £. s. d. for me.”

-

-“But how do I know you won’t get my hundred and thirty and then go to

-the other party for his?”

-

-Mr. Speedwell smiled craftily.

-

-“You don’t know, sir. In these matters one person has to take the

-other’s word. You pay your money and you get the information you ask

-for. You don’t pay and I keep it. It’s for you to say what you’ll do.”

-

-Cheyne sat in thought. It was evident this man could give him valuable

-information, and he was well aware that if he had employed him to

-obtain it it might easily have cost him more than the sum asked. He

-did not doubt, either, that the quartet had asked for information

-about himself. When his dead body had not been found it would have

-been a likely move. But he was surprised that they should have asked

-under their own names. But then again, they mightn’t have. Speedwell

-might have found these out. It was certainly an extraordinary

-coincidence that himself and the gang should have consulted the same

-private detective, though of course there was nothing inherently

-impossible in it.

-

-On the whole he felt disposed to pay the money. He was comfortably

-enough off and he would scarcely feel it. The payment would not commit

-him to anything or put him in any way in the power of this detective.

-Moreover, the man was evidently skillful at his job and it might be

-useful enough to have him on his side. And last, but not least, after

-his failure of the day before it would be a pleasure to go back to

-Miss Merrill and tell her how well he had succeeded on this occasion.

-

-“Look here,” he said. “I don’t think you can expect me to believe that

-these people came and asked you to find the burglar who had made off

-with their confidential paper, so that they might prosecute. That’s

-rather tall, you know. Why didn’t they go direct to the police?”

-

-“I’m only telling you what they said. I’m not saying I believed it was

-really what they wanted.” Speedwell paused. “As a matter of fact I

-don’t mind telling you what I think,” he went on presently. “I believe

-they are scared about you, and they want to find you to finish up the

-job they bungled. That’s what I think, but I may be wrong.”

-

-“And if I pay you your hundred and thirty you’ll give me your pledge

-not to give them the information?”

-

-Mr. Speedwell looked pained.

-

-“I don’t think I said that, sir. It was two hundred that was

-mentioned. But see here. I don’t want to be grasping. If you make it

-the even hundred and fifty I’ll answer your questions and not theirs.

-Is it a bargain, sir?”

-

-“Yes,” said Cheyne. “I have my check-book here and I’ll fill you in a

-check for the money as soon as I get your replies.”

-

-Mr. Speedwell beamed.

-

-“Excellent, sir. An amicable settlement. That’s what I like. Well,

-sir, I can trust you to keep your word. Here are the answers to your

-questions.” He took a bulky notebook from his pocket and continued:

-

-“First question, Dangle’s present address: Earlswood, Dalton Avenue,

-Wembley.” He waited while Cheyne wrote the address, then went on:

-“Second question, Sime’s present address: 12 Colton Street, Putney.”

-Again a pause and then: “Third question, Blessington’s present

-address: Earlswood, Dalton Av—”

-

-“The same as Dangle’s?”

-

-“The same as Dangle’s, or rather, to be strictly accurate, Dangle’s is

-the same as Blessington’s. Blessington lives at this place and has for

-several years; Dangle joined him about six weeks ago, to be precise,

-on the day after the incident which I have just forgotten.”

-

-Cheyne nodded with a rueful smile.

-

-“Well, then, these men’s occupations?”

-

-Mr. Speedwell was not to be hurried.

-

-“Fourth question,” he proceeded methodically, “Dangle’s occupation.

-Dangle, Mr. Cheyne, is just an ordinary town sharp. He has a bit of

-money and adds to it in the usual ways. He’s in with a cardsharping

-gang and helps them in their stunts—for a consideration. He frequents

-a West End gaming room, and if there is any fat pigeon around he’ll

-lend a hand in the plucking. The sister helps as a decoy. They’re a

-warm pair and I should think are watched by the police. They’ll not

-want their dealings with you to come into the limelight anyway, so

-you’ve a pull over them there.”

-

-“Has Dangle no ostensible profession?”

-

-“Not that I know of, unless you call billiard playing a profession.”

-

-“You might give me the address of the gaming rooms.”

-

-“27 Greenway Lane, Knightsbridge.”

-

-“What about Sime?”

-

-“Sime is another of the same kidney. He does the night club end and

-brings likely mugs on to the gaming rooms. A plausible ruffian, Sime.

-A man without scruple and bad to be up against. He has no ostensible

-business, either.”

-

-“And Blessington?”

-

-“Blessington is, in my opinion, the worst of the three. He has ten

-times the brains of the other two put together and is an out and out

-scoundrel. He’s well enough off in a small way and is supposed to have

-made his money by systematic blackmail. He’s supplying the cash for

-this little do of yours, whatever it may be. He is believed at Wembley

-to be something in the city, but I don’t think he has any job. Lives

-on the interest of his money, I should think.”

-

-Cheyne noted the replies, marveling how the detective had come to

-learn so much. Then he asked his seventh question.

-

-“Where is the paper?”

-

-“That, sir, I can only answer partially. It is, or was up till quite

-lately, in Blessington’s possession. Whether he carries it about with

-him or keeps it in his house or in his bank I don’t know. He may even

-have lent it to one of the others, but he is the chief of the

-enterprise and it appears to belong to him.”

-

-“That’s all right,” Cheyne admitted. “Now what were you going to tell

-me apart from these questions—the information you wrote about?”

-

-“Simply, sir, that the man who drugged you in the Edgecombe Hotel in

-Plymouth was named Stewart Blessington, that he lived at Wembley, and

-that he drugged you in order to ascertain if you carried on your

-person a certain paper of which he was in search.”

-

-“You can’t tell me how he did it?”

-

-“No, sir. Some simple trick of course, but I had no chance to find it

-out. I might perhaps suggest that he had two similar flasks, one

-innocent and the other drugged, and that he changed them by sleight of

-hand while attracting your attention elsewhere.”

-

-Cheyne shook his head. He had thought of this explanation before, but

-it was not satisfactory. He had been watching the man and he was

-satisfied he had not played any such trick. Besides, this would not

-explain why no trace of a drug was found in the food. Speedwell,

-however, could make no further suggestion.

-

-Cheyne put away his notebook.

-

-“There’s another thing I should like to know,” he said, “and that is

-how you have learned all this. I suppose you won’t tell me?”

-

-Speedwell smiled as he shook his head.

-

-“Some day, sir, when the case is over. You see, if I were to show you

-my channels of information you would naturally use them yourself, and

-then where should I come in? A man in my job soon learns where to pick

-up a bit of knowledge. It’s partly practice and partly knowing the

-ropes.”

-

-“And there’s another thing I wish,” Cheyne went on as if he had not

-heard the other, “and that is that you had gone a bit further in your

-researches and learned what that paper was and what game that gang is

-up to.”

-

-The detective’s manner became more eager.

-

-“That’s what I was coming to myself, Mr. Cheyne. If you want that

-information I can get it for you. But it may cost you a bit of money.

-It would depend on the time I should have to spend on it and the risks

-I should have to run. If you would like me to take it on for you I

-could do so. But of course it’s a matter for yourself altogether.”

-

-Cheyne reflected. This Speedwell had certainly done an amazing amount

-of work already on the case, and his success so far showed that he was

-a shrewd and capable man. To engage him to complete the work would

-probably be the quickest way of bringing the matter to a head, and the

-easiest, so far as he himself was concerned. But then he would lose

-all the excitement and the fun. He had pitted his wits against these

-men, and to hand the affair over to Speedwell would be to confess

-himself beaten. Moreover, he would have to admit his failure to Miss

-Merrill and to forego any more alarms and excursions in her company.

-No, he would keep the thing in his own hands for the present at all

-events.

-

-He therefore said that he was obliged for the other’s offer, which

-later on he might be glad to accept, but that for the moment he would

-not make any further move.

-

-“Right, sir. Whatever you say,” Speedwell agreed amicably. “I might

-add what indeed you’ll be able to guess for yourself from what I’ve

-told you, that this crowd is a pretty shrewd crowd, and they’ll not,

-so to speak, be beating the air in this job of yours. They’re going

-for something, and you may take it from me that something will be

-worth their going for. At least, if not, I’ll eat my hat.”

-

-“I quite agree with you,” Cheyne returned, fumbling in his pocket. “It

-now remains for me to write my check and then we shall be square.”

-

-Cheyne counted the hours until four o’clock, and as soon as he dared

-he set off for No. 17 Horne Terrace. Indeed, he timed his visit so

-well that as he reached the top of the tenth flight of steps, the door

-of room No. 12 opened and the model emerged. She held the door open

-for him, and ten minutes later he was seated in the big armchair

-drinking the usual cup of fragrant China tea.

-

-Miss Merrill listened with close attention to his story, but she was

-not so enthusiastic at his success as he could have wished. She made

-no comment until he had finished and then her remark was, if anything,

-disparaging.

-

-“I don’t quite like it, you know,” she said slowly. “From your

-description of him it certainly looks as if that detective was playing

-a game of his own. It doesn’t sound straight. Do you think you can

-trust him?”

-

-“Not as far as I can see him, but how can I help myself? I expect the

-addresses he gave are all correct, but I’m not at all satisfied that

-he won’t go straight to the gang and tell them he has found me and get

-their money for that.”

-

-“And you think you wouldn’t be wiser to back out yourself and instruct

-him to carry on for you?”

-

-Cheyne sat up and took his pipe out of his mouth.

-

-“I’m damned if I will,” he declared hotly. “It might be a lot wiser

-and all that, but I’m just not going to.”

-

-“You’re quite sure? I couldn’t persuade you?” she went on demurely,

-without looking at him.

-

-“I can’t imagine you trying, Miss Merrill. But in any case I’m going

-on.”

-

-“Good!” she cried, and her eyes lit up as she smiled at him. “You’re

-quite mad, but I sometimes like mad people. Then if, in spite of all I

-can say, you’re going on, what about a visit to Wembley tonight?”

-

-“The very ticket!” Cheyne was swept by a wave of delight and

-enthusiasm. “It is jolly of you to suggest it. And you will come out

-to dinner and I may pay my bet!”

-

-“As it’s a bet—all right. But you must go away now. I have some things

-to attend to. I’ll meet you when and where you say.”

-

-“What about the Trocadero at seven? A leisurely dinner and then we for

-Wembley?”

-

-“Right-o,” she laughed and vanished into the other room, while Cheyne,

-full of an eager excitement, went off to telephone orders to the

-restaurant as to the reservation of places.

-

-

-

-Chapter X

-

-The New Firm Gets Busy

-

-Cheyne and Joan Merrill took a Wembley Park train from Baker Street

-shortly before nine that evening, and a few minutes later alighted at

-the station whose name was afterwards to become a household word

-throughout the length and breadth of the British Empire. But at that

-time the Exhibition was not yet thought of, and the ground, which was

-later to hum with scores of thousands of visitors from all parts of

-the world, was now a dark and deserted plain.

-

-When the young people left the station and began to look around them,

-they found that they had reached the actual fringe of the metropolis.

-Towards London were the last outlying rows of detached and

-semidetached houses of the standard suburban type. In the opposite

-direction, towards Harrow, was the darkness of open country. Judging

-by the number of lights that were visible, this country was

-extraordinarily sparsely inhabited.

-

-Guarded inquiries from the railway officials had evoked the

-information that Dalton Road lay some ten minutes’ walk from the

-station in a northeasterly direction, and thither the two set off.

-They passed along with circumspection, keeping as far as possible from

-the street lamps and with their coat collars turned up and the brims

-of their hats pulled down over their eyes. But the place was deserted.

-During the whole of their walk they met only one person—a man going

-evidently to the station, and he strode past with barely a glance.

-

-Dalton Road proved, save for its street lamps and footpath, to be

-little more than a lane. It led somewhat windingly in an easterly

-direction off the main road. The country at this point was more

-thickly populated and there was quite a number of houses in view. All

-were built in the style of forty years ago, and were nearly all

-detached, standing in small grounds or lots. Here and there were fine

-old trees which looked as if they must have been in existence long

-before the houses, and most of the lots were well supplied with shrubs

-and with high and thick partition hedges.

-

-Nearly all the gates bore names, and as the two young people walked

-along, they had no difficulty in identifying Earlswood. There was a

-lamp at the other side of the road which enabled them to read the

-white letters on their green ground. Without pausing they glanced

-around, noting what they could of their surroundings.

-

-A narrow lane running north and south intersected Dalton Road at this

-point, and in each of the four angles were houses. That in the

-southwest corner was undergoing extension, the side next the lane

-showing scaffolding and half-built brick walls. The two adjoining

-corners were occupied by houses which presented no interesting

-features, and in the fourth corner, diagonally opposite that of the

-building operations, stood Earlswood. All four houses were surrounded

-by unusually large lots containing plenty of trees. Earlswood was

-particularly secluded, the hall door being almost hidden from both

-road and lane by hedges and shrubs.

-

-“Lucky it’s got all those trees about it,” Cheyne whispered as they

-passed on down Dalton Road. “If we have to burgle it we can do it

-without being overlooked by the neighbors.”

-

-They continued on their way until they found that Dalton Road

-debouched on a wide thoroughfare which inquiries showed was Watling

-Street, the main road between London and St. Albans. Then retracing

-their steps to Earlswood, they followed the cross lane, first south,

-which brought them back to Wembley, and north, which after about a

-mile brought them out on the Harrow Road. Having thus learned the lie

-of the land so as to know where to head in case a sudden flight became

-necessary, they returned once more to Earlswood to attempt a closer

-examination of the house.

-

-They had noticed when passing along the cross lane beside the house to

-which the extension was being made that a gap had been broken in the

-hedge for the purpose of getting in the building materials. This was

-closed only by a wooden slat. With one consent they made for the gap,

-slipped through, and crouching in the shadow of the shrubs within, set

-themselves to watch Earlswood.

-

-No light showed in any of the front windows, and as soon as Miss

-Merrill was seated on a bundle of brushwood sheltered from the light

-but rather chilly wind, Cheyne crept out to reconnoiter more closely.

-Making sure that no one was approaching, he slipped through the hedge,

-and then crossing both road and lane diagonally, passed down the lane

-at the side of Earlswood.

-

-There was no gap in the Earlswood hedge, but just as in the case of

-that other similarly situated house which he had investigated, a

-narrow lane ran along at the bottom of the tiny garden behind. Cheyne

-turned into this and stood looking at the back of the house. The whole

-proceeding seemed familiar, a repetition of his actions on the night

-he traced the gang to Hopefield Avenue.

-

-But the back of this house was in darkness, and pushing open a gate,

-he passed from the lane to the garden and silently approached the

-building. A path led straight from gate to door, a side door

-evidently, as the walled-in yard was on his left hand. Another path to

-the right led round the house to the hall door in the front.

-

-Cheyne walked slowly round, examining doors and windows. All of these

-were fastened and he did not see how without breaking the glass he

-could force an entrance. But he found a window at the back, the sash

-of which was loose and easy fitting, and decided that in case of need

-he would operate on this.

-

-Having learned everything he could, he retraced his steps to his

-companion and they held a whispered consultation. Cheyne was for

-taking the opportunity of the house being empty to make an attempt

-then and there to get in. But Miss Merrill would not hear of it. Such

-a venture, she said, would require very careful thought as well as

-apparatus which they had not got. “Besides,” she added, “you’ve done

-enough for one night. Remember you’re not completely well yet.”

-

-“Oh, blow my health; I’m perfectly all right,” he whispered back, but

-he had to admit her other arguments were sound and the two, cautiously

-emerging from their hiding-place, walked back to Wembley and took the

-next train to town.

-

-She was silent during the journey, but as they reached Baker Street

-she turned to him and said: “Look here, I believe I’ve got an idea.

-Bring a long-burning electric torch with you tomorrow afternoon and

-whatever tools you want to open the window, and perhaps we’ll try our

-luck.” She would not explain her plan nor would she allow him to

-accompany her to the studio, so with rather a bad grace he said good

-night and returned to his hotel.

-

-The next day he spent in making an assortment of purchases. These were

-in all a powerful electric torch, guaranteed to burn brightly for a

-couple of hours, a short, slightly bent lever of steel with a chisel

-point at one end, a cap, a pair of thin gloves, a glazier’s diamond,

-some twenty feet of thin rope and a five-inch piece of bright steel

-tubing with a tiny handle at one side. These, when four o’clock came,

-he took with him to Horne Terrace and spread in triumph on Miss

-Merrill’s table.

-

-“Good gracious!” cried the young lady as she stared wonderingly at the

-collection. “Whatever are these? Another expedition to Mount Everest?”

-

-“Torch: takes the place of the old dark lantern,” Cheyne answered

-proudly, pointing to the article in question. “Jemmy for persuading

-intractable doors, boxes and drawers; cap that will not drop or blow

-off; gloves to keep one’s fingerprints off the furniture; diamond for

-making holes in panes of glass; penknife for shooting back snibs of

-windows; rope for escaping from upstairs windows, and this”—he picked

-up the bit of tube and levelled it at her—“what price this for

-bluffing out of a tight place? If the light’s not too good it’s a

-pretty fair imitation. Also”—he pointed to his feet—“rubber-soled

-shoes for silence.”

-

-She gave a delightful little ripple of laughter, then became serious.

-

-“Have you no anklets?” she asked anxiously. “Don’t say you have

-forgotten your anklets!”

-

-“Anklets?” he repeated. “What d’you mean? I don’t follow.”

-

-“To guard against the bites of sharks, of course,” she declared.

-“Don’t you remember the White Knight had them for his horse?”

-

-Cheyne was so serious and eager that he felt somewhat dashed, but he

-joined in the laugh, and when they had had tea they settled down to

-talk over their arrangements. Then it seemed that she really had a

-plan, and when Cheyne heard it he became immediately enthusiastic.

-Like all good plans it was simple, and soon they had the details cut

-and dry.

-

-“Let’s try tonight,” Cheyne cried in excitement.

-

-“Yes, I think we should. If these people have some scheme on hand

-every day’s delay is in their favor and against you.”

-

-“Against us, Joan, not against me,” he cried, then realizing what he

-had said, he looked at her anxiously. “I may call you Joan, mayn’t I?”

-he pleaded. “You see, we’re partners now.”

-

-She didn’t mind, it appeared, what he called her. Any old name would

-do. And she didn’t mind calling him Maxwell either. She hadn’t noticed

-that Maxwell was so frightfully long and clumsy, but she supposed Max

-_was_ shorter. So that was that. They returned to the Plan. Though

-they continued discussing it for nearly an hour neither was able to

-improve on it, except that they decided that the first thing to be

-done if they got hold of the tracing was to copy their adversaries and

-photograph it.

-

-“Drat this daylight saving,” Cheyne grumbled. “If it wasn’t for that

-we could start a whole hour earlier. As it is there is no use going

-out there before nine.” He paused and then went on: “Queer thing that

-these two houses should be so much alike—this Earlswood and the one in

-Hopefield Avenue. Both at cross roads, both with lanes behind them,

-and both surrounded by gardens and hedges and shrubs.”

-

-“Very queer,” Joan admitted, “especially as there probably aren’t more

-than a hundred thousand houses of that type in London. But it’s all to

-the good. You’ll feel at home when you get in.”

-

-They sparred pleasantly for some time, then after a leisurely dinner

-they tubed to Baker Street and took the train to Wembley Park. It was

-darker than on the previous evening, for the sky was thickly overcast.

-There had been some rain during the day, but this had now ceased,

-though the wind had turned east and it had become cold and raw.

-

-Turning into Dalton Road, they reached the cross-lane at Earlswood,

-passed through the gap in the hedge and took up their old position

-among the shrubs. They had seen no one and they believed they were

-unobserved. From where they crouched they could see that Earlswood was

-again in darkness, and presently Cheyne slipped away to explore.

-

-He was soon back again with the welcome news that the rear of the

-house was also unlighted and that the Plan might be put into operation

-forthwith. In spite of Joan’s ridicule he had insisted on bringing his

-complete outfit, and he now stood up and patted himself over to make

-sure that everything was in place. The cap, the gloves, and the shoes

-he was wearing, the rope was coiled round his waist beneath his coat,

-and the other articles were stowed in his various pockets. He turned

-and signified that he was ready.

-

-Joan opened the proceedings by passing out through the gap in the

-hedge, walking openly across to the Earlswood hall door, and ringing.

-This was to make sure that the house really was untenanted. If any one

-came she would simply ask if Mrs. Bryce-Harris was at home and then

-apologize for having mistaken the address.

-

-But no one answered, and the demonstration of this was Cheyne’s cue.

-When he had waited for five minutes after Joan’s departure and no

-sound came from across the road, he in his turn slipped out through

-the gap in the hedge, and after a glance round, crossed Dalton Road,

-and passing down by the side of Earlswood, turned into the lane at the

-back. On this occasion he could dimly see the gate into the garden,

-which was painted white, and he passed through, leaving it open behind

-him, and reached the house.

-

-The point upon which Joan’s plan hinged was that, owing to the shrubs

-in front of the building, it was possible to remain concealed in the

-shadows beside the porch, invisible from the road. She proposed,

-therefore, to stay at the door while Cheyne was carrying on operations

-within, and to ring if any one approached the house, adding a double

-knock if there was urgent danger. She would hold the newcomer with

-inquiries as to the whereabouts of the mythical Mrs. Bryce-Harris,

-thus insuring time for her companion to beat a retreat. She herself

-also would have time in which to vanish before her victims realized

-what had happened.

-

-Feeling, therefore, that he would have a margin in which to withdraw

-if flight became necessary, Cheyne set to work to force an entrance.

-He rapidly examined the doors and windows, but all were fastened as

-before. Choosing the window with the loose sash upon which he had

-already decided, he took his knife and tried to open the catch. The

-two sashes were “rabbitted” where they met, but he was able to push

-the blade up right through the overhanging wood of the upper sash and

-lever the catch round until it snapped clear. Then withdrawing the

-knife, he raised the bottom sash. A moment later he was standing on

-the scullery floor.

-

-His first care was to unlock and throw open the back door, so as to

-provide an emergency exit in case of need. Then he closed and

-refastened the scullery window, darkening with a pencil the wood where

-the knife had broken a splinter. As he said to himself, there was no

-kind of sense in calling attention to his visit.

-

-He crossed the hall and silently opened the front door to see that all

-was right with Joan. Then closing it again, he began a search of the

-house.

-

-The building was of old-fashioned design, a narrow hall running

-through its center from back to front. Five doors opened off this

-hall, leading to the dining room and the kitchen at one side, a

-sitting room and a kind of library or study at the other, and the

-garden at the back. Upstairs were four bedrooms—one unoccupied—and a

-servant’s room.

-

-Cheyne rapidly passed through the house searching for likely hiding

-places for the tracing. Soon he came to the conclusion that unless

-some freak place had been chosen, it would be in one of two places:

-either a big roll-top desk in the library or an old-fashioned

-escritoire in one of the bedrooms. Both of these were locked.

-Fortunately there was no safe.

-

-He decided to try the desk first. A gentle application of the jemmy

-burst its lock and he threw up the cover and sat down to go through

-the contents.

-

-Evidently it belonged to Blessington, and evidently also Blessington

-was a man of tidy and businesslike habits. There were but few papers

-on the desk and these from their date were clearly current and waiting

-to be dealt with. In the drawers were bundles of letters, accounts,

-receipts, and miscellaneous papers, all neatly tied together with tape

-and docketed. In one of the side drawers was a card index and in

-another a vertical numeralpha letter file. Through all of these Cheyne

-hurriedly looked, but nowhere was there any sign of the tracing.

-

-A few measurements with a pocket rule showed that there were no spaces

-in the desk unaccounted for, and closing the top, Cheyne hurried

-upstairs to the escritoire. It was a fine old piece and it went to his

-heart to damage it with the jemmy. But he remembered his treatment

-aboard the _Enid_, and such a paroxysm of anger swept over him that he

-plunged in the point of his tool and ruthlessly splintered open the

-lid.

-

-The drawers were fastened by separate locks, and each one Cheyne

-smashed with a savage satisfaction. Then he began to examine their

-contents.

-

-This was principally bundles of old letters, tied up in the same

-methodical way as those downstairs. Cheyne did not read anything, but

-from the fragments of sentences which he could not help seeing there

-seemed ample corroboration of Speedwell’s statements that Blessington

-lived by professional blackmail. He felt a wave of disgust sweep over

-him as he went through drawer after drawer of the obscene collection.

-

-But here also no luck met his efforts, and with a sinking heart he

-took out his rule to measure the escritoire. And then he became

-suddenly excited as he found that the thickness of the wood at the

-back of the drawers, which normally should have been about half an

-inch, measured no less than four inches. Here, surely, there must be a

-secret drawer.

-

-He examined the woodwork, but nowhere could he see the slightest trace

-of an opening. He pressed and pulled and pushed, but still without

-result: no knob would slide, no panel depress. But of the existence of

-the space there was no doubt. There was room for a receptacle six

-inches by twelve by three, and, moreover, all six sides of it sounded

-hollow when tapped.

-

-There was nothing for it but force. With a sharp stroke he rammed the

-point of the jemmy into the side. It penetrated, he levered it down,

-and with a grinding, cracking sound the wood split and part of it was

-prised off. Eagerly Cheyne put the torch to the opening, and he

-chuckled with satisfaction as he saw within the familiar lilac gray of

-the tracing.

-

-Once again he inserted the point of the jemmy to prise off the

-remainder of the side, but the heavy wood at the top of the piece

-prevented his getting a leverage. He withdrew the tool to find a fresh

-purchase, but as he did so, the front door bell rang—several sharp,

-jerky peals. Frantically he jammed in the jemmy, intending by sheer

-force to smash out the wood, but his position was hampered, and it

-cracked, but did not give. As he tried desperately for a fresh hold an

-urgent double knock sounded from below. Sweating and tugging with the

-jemmy he heard voices outside the window. And then with a resounding

-crack the panel gave, he plunged in his hand, seized the tracing,

-thrust it and the jemmy into his pocket and rushed out of the room.

-

-But as he did so he heard the front door open and Dangle’s voice from

-below: “It sounded in the house. Didn’t you think so?” and Susan’s:

-“Yes, upstairs, I thought.”

-

-Cheyne looked desperately round for a weapon. Near the head of the

-stairs stood a light cane chair, and this he seized as he dashed down.

-As he turned the angle of the stairs Dangle switched on the light in

-the hall, and with a startled oath ran forward to intercept him. With

-all his might Cheyne hurled the chair at the other’s head. Dangle

-threw up his arms to protect his face, and by the time he recovered

-himself Cheyne was in the hall, doubling round the newel post. Both

-Dangle and Susan clutched at the flying figure. But Cheyne, twisting

-like an eel, tore himself free and made at top speed for the back

-door. This he slammed after him, rushing as fast as he could down the

-garden. He slackened only to pull the gate to as he passed through it,

-then sped along the lane, and turning at its end away from Dalton

-Road, tore off into the night.

-

-These proceedings were not in accordance with the Plan. The intention

-had been that on either recovering the tracing or satisfying himself

-that it was not in the house, Cheyne would close the back door, and

-letting himself out by the front, would meet Joan, pull the door to

-after them, walk round the house and quietly disappear via the garden

-and lane. But the possibility of an unexpected flight had been

-recognized. It had been decided that in such a case the first thing

-would be to get rid of the tracing, so that in the event of capture,

-the fruits of the raid would at least be safe. Therefore, on all the

-routes away from Earlswood hiding places had been fixed on, from which

-Joan would afterwards recover it. Along the lane the hiding place was

-the back of a wall approaching a culvert, and over this wall Cheyne

-duly threw the booty as he rushed along.

-

-By this time Dangle was out on the road and running for all he was

-worth. But Cheyne had the advantage of him. He was lighter and an

-experienced athlete, and, except for his illness, was in better

-training. Moreover, he was more lightly clad and wore rubber shoes.

-Dangle, though Cheyne did not know it, was hampered by an overcoat and

-patent leather boots. He could not gain on the fugitive, and Cheyne

-heard his footsteps dropping farther and farther behind, until at last

-they ceased altogether.

-

-Cheyne slacked to a walk as he wiped the perspiration from his

-forehead. So far as he was concerned he had now only to make his way

-back to town and meet Joan at her studio. He considered his position

-and concluded his best and safest plan would be to go on to Harrow and

-take an express for Marylebone—if he could get one.

-

-He duly reached Harrow, but he found there that he would have nearly

-an hour to wait for a non-stop train for London. He decided, however,

-that this would be better than risking a halt at Wembley Park, and he

-hung about at the end of the platform until the train came along. On

-reaching town he took a taxi to Horne Terrace and hurried up to No.

-12. Joan had not returned!

-

-He waited outside her room for a considerable time, then coming down,

-began to pace the street in front of the house. Every moment he became

-more and more anxious. It was now half past twelve o’clock and she

-should have been back over an hour ago. What could be keeping her?

-Merciful Heavens! If anything could have happened to her.

-

-He wrote a note on a leaf of his pocketbook saying he would return in

-the morning, and going once more up to her flat, pushed it under the

-door. Then hailing a belated taxi, he offered the man a fancy price to

-drive him to Wembley Park.

-

-Some half-hour later he climbed over the wall across which he had

-thrown the tracing. A careful search showed that it was no longer

-there; moreover it revealed the print of a dainty shoe with a rather

-high heel, such as he had noticed Joan wearing earlier in the evening.

-He returned to the shrubs at the gap where they had waited, but there

-he could find no trace of her at all. Then he walked all round

-Earlswood, but it was shrouded in darkness. Finally, his taximan

-having refused to wait for him and all traffic being over for the day,

-he set out to walk to London, which he reached between three and four

-o’clock.

-

-He had some coffee at a stall and then returned to his hotel, but by

-seven he was once more at Horne Terrace. Eagerly he raced up the steps

-and knocked at No. 12. There was no answer.

-

-Suddenly a white speck below the door caught his eye, and stooping, he

-saw the note he had pushed in on the previous evening. Joan evidently

-had not yet returned.

-

-

-

-Chapter XI

-

-Otto Schulz’s Secret

-

-Cheyne, faced by the disquieting fact that Joan Merrill had failed to

-reach home in spite of her expressed intention to return there

-immediately, stood motionless outside her door, aghast and irresolute.

-With a growing anxiety he asked himself what could have occurred to

-delay her. He knew her well enough to be satisfied that she would not

-change her mind through sudden caprice. Something had happened to her,

-and as he considered the possibilities, he grew more and more uneasy.

-

-The contingency was one which neither of them had foreseen, and for

-the moment he was at a loss as to how to cope with it. First, in his

-hot-blooded way he thought of buying a real pistol, returning to

-Earlswood, and shooting Blessington and Dangle unless they revealed

-her whereabouts. Then reason told him that they really might not know,

-that Joan might have met with an accident or for some reason have gone

-to friends for the night, and he thought of putting the matter in

-Speedwell’s hands. But he soon saw that Speedwell had not the means or

-the organization to deal adequately with the affair and his thoughts

-turned to Scotland Yard. He was loath to confess his own essays in

-illegality in such an unsympathetic _milieu_, but of course no

-hesitation was possible if Joan’s safety was at stake.

-

-Still pondering the problem, he turned and slowly descended the

-stairs. He would wait, he thought, for an hour or perhaps two—say

-until nine. If by nine o’clock she had neither turned up nor sent a

-message he would go to Scotland Yard, no matter what the consequences

-to himself might be.

-

-Thinking that he should go back to his hotel in case she telephoned,

-he strode off along the pavement. But he had scarcely left the doorway

-when he heard his name called from behind, and swinging round, he

-gazed in speechless amazement at the figure confronting him. It was

-James Dangle!

-

-For a moment they stared at one another, and then Cheyne saw red.

-

-“You infernal scoundrel!” he yelled, and sprang at the other’s throat.

-Dangle, stepping back, threw up his hands to parry the onslaught,

-while he cried earnestly:

-

-“Steady, Mr. Cheyne; for heaven’s sake, steady! I have a message for

-you from Miss Merrill.”

-

-Cheyne glared wrathfully, but he pulled himself together and released

-his hold.

-

-“Don’t speak her name, you blackguard!” he said thickly. “What’s your

-message?”

-

-“She is all right,” Dangle answered quickly, “but the rest of it will

-take time to tell. Let us get out of this.”

-

-Some passers-by, hearing the raised voices, had stopped, and a small

-crowd, eager for a row, had collected about the two men. Dangle seized

-Cheyne’s wrist and hurried him down the street and round the corner.

-

-“Let’s go to your hotel, Mr. Cheyne, or anywhere else we can talk,” he

-begged. “What I have to say will take a little time.”

-

-Cheyne snatched his wrist away.

-

-“Keep your filthy hands to yourself,” he snarled. “Where is Miss

-Merrill?”

-

-“I am sorry to say she has met with a slight accident,” Dangle

-replied, speaking quickly and with placatory gestures; “not in any way

-serious, only a twisted ankle. I found her on the road on my way back

-from chasing you, leaning up against the stone wall which runs along

-the lane at the back of Blessington’s house. She had hurt herself in

-climbing down to get the tracing which you threw over. I called my

-sister and we helped her into the house, and Susan bathed and bound up

-her ankle and fixed her up comfortably on the sofa. It is not really a

-sprain, but it will be painful for a day or two.”

-

-Cheyne was taken aback not only by his enemy’s knowledge, but also by

-being talked to in so friendly a fashion, and in his relief at the

-news he felt his anger draining away.

-

-“You’ve got the tracing again, I suppose?” he said ruefully.

-

-Dangle smiled.

-

-“Well, yes, we have,” he agreed. “But I have to admit it was the

-result of two lucky chances; first, my sister’s and my return just

-when we did, and second, Miss Merrill’s unfortunate false step over

-the wall. But your scheme was a good one, and with ordinary luck you

-would have pulled it off.”

-

-Cheyne grunted, and Dangle, turning towards him, went on earnestly:

-“Look here, Mr. Cheyne, why should we be on opposite sides in this

-affair? I have spoken to my partners, and we are all agreed. You are

-the kind of man we want, and we believe we could be of benefit to one

-another. In fact, to make a long story short, I am authorized to lay

-before you a certain proposition. I believe it will appeal to you. It

-is for that purpose I should like to go somewhere where we could talk.

-If not to your hotel, I know a place a few hundred yards down this

-street where we could get a private room.”

-

-“I want to go out and see Miss Merrill.”

-

-“Of course you do. But Miss Merrill was asleep when I left and most

-probably will sleep for an hour or two yet, so there is time enough. I

-beg that you will first hear what I have to say. Then we can go out

-together.”

-

-“Well, come to my hotel,” Cheyne said ungraciously, and the two walked

-along, Dangle making tentative essays in conversation, all of which

-were brought to nought by the uncompromising brevity of his

-companion’s responses.

-

-“You’d better come up to my bedroom,” Cheyne growled when at last they

-reached their goal. “These dratted servants are cleaning the public

-rooms.”

-

-In silence they sought the lift and Cheyne led the way to his

-apartment. Bolting the door, he pointed to a chair, stood himself with

-his back to the empty fireplace and remarked impatiently: “Well?”

-

-Dangle laughed lightly.

-

-“I see you’re not going to help me out, Mr. Cheyne, and I suppose I

-can scarcely wonder at it. Well, I’ll get ahead without further delay.

-But, as I’ve a good deal to say, I should suggest you sit down, and if

-you don’t mind, I’ll smoke. Try one of these Coronas; they were given

-to me, so you needn’t mind taking one. No? I wonder would you mind if

-I rang and ordered some coffee and rolls? I’ve not breakfasted yet and

-I’m hungry.”

-

-With a bad grace Cheyne rang the bell.

-

-“Coffee and rolls for two,” Dangle ordered when an attendant came to

-the door. “You will join me, won’t you? Even if my mission comes to

-nothing and we remain enemies, there’s no reason why we should make

-our interview more unpleasant than is necessary.”

-

-Cheyne strode up and down the room.

-

-“But I don’t want the confounded interview,” he exclaimed angrily.

-“For goodness’ sake get along and say what you have to say and clear

-out. I haven’t forgotten the _Enid_.”

-

-“No, that was illegal, wasn’t it? Almost as bad as breaking and

-entering, burglary and theft. But now, there’s no kind of sense in

-squabbling. Sit down and listen and I’ll tell you a story that will

-interest you in spite of yourself.”

-

-“I shouldn’t wonder,” Cheyne said with sarcasm as he flung himself

-into a chair, “but if it’s going to be more lies about St. John Price

-and the Hull succession you may save your breath.”

-

-Dangle smiled whimsically. “It was for your sake, Mr. Cheyne; perhaps

-not quite legitimate, but still done with the best intention. I told

-him that yarn—I admit, of course, it was a yarn—simply to make it easy

-for you to give up the letter. I knew that nothing would induce you to

-part with it if you thought it dishonorable; hence the story.”

-

-Cheyne laughed harshly.

-

-“And what will be the object of the new yarn?”

-

-“This time it won’t be a yarn. I will tell you the truth.”

-

-“And you expect me to believe it?”

-

-Dangle leaned forward and spoke more earnestly.

-

-“You will believe it, not, I’m afraid, because I tell it, but because

-it is capable of being checked. A great portion of it can be

-substantiated by inquiries at the Admiralty and elsewhere, and your

-reason will satisfy you as to the remainder.”

-

-“Well, go on and get it over anyway.”

-

-Dangle once more smilingly shrugged his shoulders, lit his cigar and

-began:

-

-“My tale commences as before with our mutual friend, Arnold Price, and

-once again it goes back to the year 1917. In February of ’17 Arnold

-Price was, as you know, third mate of the _Maurania_, and I was on the

-same ship in command of her bow gun—she had guns mounted fore and aft.

-I hadn’t known Price before, but we became friends—not close friends,

-but as intimate as most men who are cooped up together for months on

-the same ship.

-

-“In February ’17, as we were coming into the Bay on our way from South

-Africa, we sighted a submarine. I needn’t worry you with the details

-of what followed. It’s enough to say that we tried to escape, and

-failing, showed fight. As it chanced, by a stroke of the devil’s own

-luck we pumped a shell into her just abaft the conning tower after she

-rose and before she could get her gun trained on us. She heeled over

-and began to sink by the stern. I confess that I’d have watched those

-devils drown, as they had done many of our poor fellows, but the old

-man wasn’t that way inclined and he called for volunteers to get out

-one of the boats. Price was the first man to offer, and they got a

-boat lowered away and pulled for the submarine. She disappeared before

-they could get up to her, and we could see her crew clinging to

-wreckage. The men in the boat pulled all out to get there before they

-were washed away, for there was a bit of a sea running, the end of a

-southwester that had just blown itself out. Well, some of the crew

-held on and they got them into the boat; others couldn’t stick it and

-were lost. The captain was there clinging on to a lifebelt, but just

-as the boat came up he let go and was sinking, when Arnold Price

-jumped overboard and caught him and supported him until they got a

-rope round him and pulled him aboard. I didn’t see that myself, but I

-heard about it afterwards. The captain’s name was Otto Schulz, and

-when they got him aboard the _Maurania_ and fixed up in bed they found

-that he had had a knock on the head that would probably do for him.

-But all the same Price had saved his life, and what was more, had

-saved it at the risk of his own. That is the first point in my story.”

-

-Dangle paused and drew at his cigar. As he had foretold, Cheyne was

-already interested. The story appealed to him, for he knew that for

-once he was not being told a yarn. He had already heard of the rescue;

-in fact he had himself congratulated Price on his brave deed. He

-remembered a curious point about it. A day or two later Price had been

-hit in an encounter with another U-boat, and he and Schulz had been

-sent to the same hospital—somewhere on the French coast. There Schulz

-had died, and from there Price had sent the mysterious tracing which

-had been the cause of all these unwonted activities.

-

-“We crossed the Bay without further adventures,” Dangle resumed, “but

-as we approached the Channel we sighted another U-boat. We exchanged a

-few shots without doing a great deal of harm on either side, and when

-a destroyer came on the scene Brother Fritz submerged and disappeared.

-But as luck would have it one of his shells burst over our fo’c’sle.

-Both Price and I were there, I at my gun and he on some job of his

-own, and both of us got knocked out. Price had a scalp wound and I a

-bit of shell in my thigh; neither very serious, but both stretcher

-cases.

-

-“We called at Brest that night and next morning they sent us ashore to

-hospital. Schulz was sent with us. By what seems now a strange

-coincidence, but what was, I suppose, ordinary and natural enough, we

-were put into adjoining beds in the same ward. That is the second

-point of my story.”

-

-Again Dangle paused and again Cheyne reflected that so far he was

-being told the truth. He wondered with a growing thrill if he was

-really going to learn the contents of Price’s letter to himself and

-the meaning of the mysterious tracing, as well as the circumstances

-under which it was sent. He nodded to show he had grasped the point

-and Dangle went on:

-

-“Price and I soon began to improve, but the blow on Schulz’s head

-turned out pretty bad and he grew weaker and weaker. At last he got to

-know he was going to peg out, as you will see from what I overheard.

-

-“I was lying that night in a sort of waking dream, half asleep and

-half conscious of my surroundings. The ward was very still. There were

-six of us there and I thought all the others were asleep. The night

-nurse had just had a look round and had gone out again. She had left

-the gas lit, but turned very low. Suddenly I heard Schulz, who was in

-the next bed, calling Price. He called him two or three times and then

-Price answered. ‘Look here, Price,’ Schulz said, ‘are those other

-blighters asleep?’ He talked as good English as you or me. Price said

-‘Yes,’ and then Schulz went on to talk.

-

-“Now, I don’t know if you’ll believe me, Mr. Cheyne, but though as a

-matter of fact, I overheard everything he said, I didn’t mean to

-listen. I was so tired and dreamy that I just didn’t think of telling

-him I was awake, and indeed if I had thought of it, I don’t believe I

-should have had the energy to move. You know how it is when you’re not

-well. Then when I did hear it was too late. I just couldn’t tell him

-that I had learned his secret.”

-

-As Dangle spoke there was a knock at the door and a waiter arrived

-with coffee. Dangle paid him, and without further comment poured some

-out for Cheyne and handed it across. Cheyne was by this time so

-interested in the tale that his resentment was forgotten, and he took

-the cup with a word of thanks.

-

-“Go on,” he added. “I’m interested in your story, as you said I should

-be.”

-

-“I thought you would,” Dangle answered with his ready smile. “Well,

-Schulz began by telling Price that he knew he wasn’t going to live.

-Then he went on to say that he felt it cruelly hard luck, because he

-had accidentally come on a secret which would have brought him an

-immense fortune. Now he couldn’t use it. He had been going to let it

-die with him, but he remembered what he owed to Price and had decided

-to hand over the information to him. ‘But,’ he said, ‘there is one

-condition. You must first swear to me on your sacred honor that if you

-make anything out of it you will, after the war, try to find my wife

-and hand her one-eighth of what you get. I say one-eighth, because if

-you get any profits at all they will be so enormous that one-eighth

-will be riches to Magda.’

-

-“I could see that Price thought he was delirious, but to quiet him he

-swore the oath and then Schulz told of his discovery. He said that

-before he had been given charge of the U-boat he had served for over

-six months in the Submarine Research Department, and that there, while

-carrying out certain experiments, he had had a lucky accident. Some

-substances which he had fused in an electric furnace had suddenly

-partially vaporized and, as it were, boiled over. The white-hot mass

-poured over the copper terminals of his furnace, with the result that

-the extremely high voltage current short-circuited with a corona of

-brilliant sparks. He described the affair in greater detail than this,

-but I am not an electrician and I didn’t follow the technicalities.

-But they don’t matter, it was the result that was important. When the

-current was cut off and the mass cooled he started in to clean up. He

-chipped the stuff off the terminals, and he found that the copper had

-fused and run. And then he made his great discovery: the copper had

-hardened. He tested it and found it was, roughly speaking, as hard as

-high carbon steel and with an even greater tensile strength!

-Unintentionally he had made a new and unknown alloy. Schulz knew that

-the ancients were able to harden copper and he supposed that he had

-found the lost art.

-

-“At once he saw the extraordinary value of this discovery. If you

-could use copper instead of steel you would revolutionize the

-construction of electrical machinery; copper conduits could be lighter

-and be self-supporting—in scores of ways the new metal would be worth

-nearly its weight in gold. He could not work at the thing by himself,

-so he told his immediate superior, who happened also to be a close

-personal friend. The two tried some more experiments, and to make a

-long story short, they discovered that if certain percentages of

-certain minerals were added to the copper during smelting, it became

-hard. The minerals were cheap and plentiful, so that practically the

-new metal could be produced at the old price. This meant, for example,

-that they could make parts of machines of the new alloy, which would

-weigh—and therefore cost—only about one-quarter of those of ordinary

-copper. If they sold these at half or even three-quarters of the old

-price they would make an extremely handsome profit. But their idea was

-not to do this, but to sell their discovery to Krupps or some other

-great firm who, they believed, would pay a million sterling or more

-for it.

-

-“But they knew that they could not do anything with it until after the

-war unless they were prepared to hand it over to the military

-authorities for whatever these chose to pay, which would probably be

-nothing. While they were still considering their course of action both

-were ordered back to sea. Schulz’s friend was killed almost

-immediately, Schulz being then the only living possessor of the

-secret. Panic-stricken lest he too should be killed, he prepared a

-cipher giving the whole process, and this he sealed in a watertight

-cover and wore it continuously beneath his clothes. He now proposed to

-give it to Price, partly in return for what Price had done, and partly

-in the hope of his wife eventually benefiting. I saw him hand over a

-small package, and then I got the disappointment of my life, and so,

-I’m sure, did Price. Schulz was obviously growing weaker and he now

-spoke with great difficulty. But he made a final effort to go on; ‘The

-key to the cipher—’ he began and just then the sister came back into

-the room. Schulz stopped, but before she left he got a weak turn and

-fell back unconscious. He never spoke again and next day he was dead.”

-

-In his absorption Dangle had let his cigar go out, and now he paused

-to relight it. Cheyne sat, devouring the story with eager interest. He

-did not for a moment doubt it. It covered too accurately the facts

-which he already knew. He was keenly curious to hear its end: whether

-Dangle, having obtained the cipher, had read it, and what was the

-nature of the proposal the man was about to make.

-

-“Next day I approached Price on the matter. I said I had involuntarily

-overheard what Schulz had told him, and as the affair was so huge,

-asked him to take me into it with him. As a matter of fact I thought

-then, and think now, that the job was too big for one person to

-handle. However, Price cut up rough about it: wouldn’t have me as a

-partner on any terms and accused me of eavesdropping. I told him to go

-to hell and we parted on bad terms. I found out—I may as well admit by

-looking through the letters in his cabin while he was on duty—that he

-had sent the packet to you, and when I had made inquiries about you I

-was able to guess his motive. You, humanly speaking, were a safe life;

-you were invalided out of the service. He would send the secret to you

-to keep for him till after the war or to use as you thought best if he

-were knocked out.

-

-“You will understand, Mr. Cheyne, that though keenly interested in the

-whole affair, while I was in the service I couldn’t make any move in

-it. But directly I was demobbed I began to make inquiries. I found you

-were living at Dartmouth, and it was evident from your way of life

-that you hadn’t exploited the secret. Then I found out about Price,

-learned that he was on one of the Bombay-Basrah troopships and that

-though he had applied to be demobbed there were official delays. The

-next thing I heard about him was that he had disappeared. You knew

-that?” Dangle seemed to have been expecting the other to show

-surprise.

-

-“Yes, I knew it. I learned it at the same time that I learned St. John

-Price was a myth.”

-

-“Well, it’s quite true. He left his ship at Bombay on a few days’

-leave to pay a visit up country and was never heard of again.

-Presumably he is dead. And now, Mr. Cheyne,” Dangle shifted uneasily

-in his seat and glanced deprecatingly at the other, “now I come to a

-part of my story which I should be glad to omit. But I must tell you

-everything so that you may be in a position to decide on the proposal

-I’m going to make. At the time I was financially in very low water. My

-job had not been kept for me and I couldn’t get another. I was pretty

-badly hit, and worse still, I had taken to gambling in the desperate

-hope of getting some ready money. One night I had been treated on an

-empty stomach, and being upset from the drink, I plunged more than all

-my remaining capital. I lost, and then I was down and out, owing

-fairly large sums to two men—Blessington and Sime. In despair I told

-them of Schulz’s discovery. They leaped at it and said that if my

-sister Susan and myself would join in an attempt to get hold of the

-secret they would not only cancel the debts, but would offer us a

-square deal and share and share alike. Well, I shouldn’t have agreed,

-of course, but—well, I did. It was naturally the pressure they brought

-to bear that made me do it, but it was also partly due to my

-resentment at the way Price had turned me down. We thought that as far

-as you were concerned, you were probably expecting nothing and would

-therefore suffer no disappointment, and we agreed unanimously to send

-both Frau Schulz and Mrs. Price equal shares with ourselves. I don’t

-pretend any of us were right, Mr. Cheyne, but that’s what happened.”

-

-“I can understand it very well,” said Cheyne. He was always generous

-to a fault and this frank avowal had mollified his wrath. “But you

-haven’t told me if you read the cipher.”

-

-“I’m coming to that,” Dangle returned. “We laid our plans for getting

-hold of the package and with some forged references Susan got a job as

-servant in your house. She told us that so far as she could see the

-package would either be about your person or in your safe, and as she

-couldn’t ascertain the point we laid our plans to find out. As you

-know, they drew blank, and then we devised the plant on the _Enid_.

-That worked, but you nearly turned the tables on us in Hopefield

-Avenue. How you traced us I can’t imagine, and I hope later on you’ll

-tell me. That night we didn’t know whether we had killed you or not.

-We didn’t want to and hadn’t meant to, but we might easily have done

-so. When your body was not found in the morning we became panicky and

-cleared out. Then there came your attempt of last night. But for an

-accident it would have succeeded. Now we have come to the conclusion

-that you are too clever and determined to have you for an enemy. We

-are accordingly faced with an alternative. Either we must murder you

-and Miss Merrill or we must get you on to our side. The first we all

-shrink from, though”—and here Dangle’s eye showed a nasty gleam—“if it

-was that or our failure we shouldn’t hesitate, but the second is what

-we should all prefer. In short, Mr. Cheyne, will you and Miss Merrill

-join us in trading Schulz’s secret: all, including Frau Schulz and

-Mrs. Price, to share equally? We think that’s a fair offer and we

-extremely hope you won’t turn us down.”

-

-“You haven’t told me if you’ve read the cipher.”

-

-“I forgot that. I’m sorry to say that we have not, and that’s another

-reason we want you and Miss Merrill. We want two fresh brains on it.

-But the covering letter shows that the secret is in the cipher and it

-must be possible to read it.”

-

-Cheyne did not reply as he sat considering this unexpected move. If he

-were satisfied as to Arnold Price’s death and if the quartet had been

-trustworthy he would not have hesitated. Frau Schulz would get her

-eighth and Mrs. Price would get a quite unexpected windfall. Moreover,

-the people who worked the invention were entitled to some return for

-their trouble. No, the proposal was reasonable; in fact it was too

-reasonable. It was more reasonable than he would have expected from

-people who had already acted as these four had done. He found it

-impossible to trust in their _bona fides_. He would like to have Joan

-Merrill’s views before replying. He therefore temporized.

-

-“Your proposal is certainly attractive,” he said, “but before coming

-to a conclusion Miss Merrill must be consulted. She would be a party

-to it, same as myself. Suppose we go out and see her now, and then I

-will give you my answer.”

-

-Dangle’s face took on a graver expression.

-

-“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” he answered slowly. “You see, there is

-more in it than I have told you, though I hoped to avoid this side of

-it. Please put yourself in our place. I come to you with this offer. I

-don’t know whether you will accept it or turn it down. If you turn it

-down there is nothing to prevent you, with the information I have just

-given you, going to the police and claiming the whole secret and

-prosecuting us. Whether you would be likely to win your case wouldn’t

-matter. You might, and that would be too big a risk for us. We have

-therefore in self-defense had to take precautions. And the precautions

-we have taken are these. Earlswood has been evacuated. Just as we left

-Hopefield Avenue so we have left Dalton Road. Our party—and Miss

-Merrill”—he slightly stressed the “and” and in his voice Cheyne sensed

-a veiled threat—“have taken up their quarters at another house some

-distance from town. In self-defense we must have your acceptance

-_before_ further negotiations take place. You must see this for

-yourself.”

-

-“And if I refuse?”

-

-Dangle lowered his voice and spoke very earnestly.

-

-“Mr. Cheyne, if you refuse you will never see Miss Merrill alive!”

-

-

-

-Chapter XII

-

-In the Enemy’s Lair

-

-With some difficulty Cheyne overcame a sudden urge to leap at his

-companion’s throat.

-

-“You infernal scoundrel!” he cried thickly. “Injure a hair of Miss

-Merrill’s head and you and your confounded friends will hang! I’ll go

-to Scotland Yard. Do you think I mind about myself?”

-

-Dangle gave a cheery smile.

-

-“Right, Mr. Cheyne,” he answered Lid “by all means. Just do go to

-Scotland Yard and make your complaint. And what are you going to tell

-them? That Miss Merrill is in the hands of a dangerous gang of

-ruffians, and must be rescued immediately? And the present address of

-this gang is—?” He looked quizzically at the other. “I don’t think so.

-I’m afraid Scotland Yard would be too slow for you. You see, my

-friends are waiting for a telephone message from me. If that is not

-received or if it is unsatisfactory—well, don’t let us discuss

-unpleasant topics, but Miss Merrill will be very, very sorry.”

-

-Cheyne choked with rage, but for the moment he found himself unable to

-reply. That he was being bluffed he had no doubt, and in any other

-circumstances he would have taken a stronger line. But where Joan

-Merrill was concerned he could run no risks. It was evident that she

-really was in the power of the gang. Dangle could not possibly have

-known about the throwing of the tracing over the wall unless he really

-had found her as he had described.

-

-A very short cogitation convinced Cheyne that these people had him in

-their toils. Application to Scotland Yard would be useless. No doubt

-the police could find the conspirators, but they could not find them

-in time. So far as retaliation or a constructive policy was concerned,

-he saw that he was down and out.

-

-His thoughts turned to the proposal Dangle had made him. It was

-certainly fair—too fair, he still thought—but if it was a genuine

-offer, he need have no qualms about accepting it. Frau Schulz, Mrs.

-Price, Joan and himself were all promised shares of the profits. A

-clause could be put in covering Price, if he afterwards turned out to

-be alive. The gang might be a crowd of sharpers and thieves—so at

-least the melancholy Speedwell had said—but, as Cheyne came to look at

-it, they had not really broken the law to a much greater extent than

-he had himself. His case to the authorities—suppose he were to lay it

-before them—would not be so overwhelmingly clear. Something could be

-said for—or rather against—both sides.

-

-If he had to give way he might as well give way with a good grace. He

-therefore choked down his rage, and turning to Dangle, said quietly:

-

-“I see you’ve won this trick. I’ll accept your offer and go with you.”

-

-Dangle, evidently delighted, sprang to his feet.

-

-“Splendid, Mr. Cheyne,” he cried warmly, holding out his hand. “Shake

-hands, won’t you? You’ll not repent your action, I promise you.”

-

-But this was too much for Cheyne.

-

-“No,” he declared. “Not yet. You haven’t satisfied me of your _bona

-fides_. I’m sorry, but you have only yourselves to thank. When I find

-Miss Merrill at liberty and see Schulz’s cipher, I’ll be satisfied,

-and then I will join with you and give you all the help I can.”

-

-Dangle seemed rather dashed, but he laughed shortly as he answered: “I

-suppose we deserve that after all. But you will soon be convinced.

-There is just a formality to be gone through before we start. Though

-you may not believe my word, we believe yours, and we have agreed that

-all that we want before taking you further into our confidence, is

-that you swear an oath of loyalty to us. You won’t object to that, I

-presume?”

-

-Cheyne hesitated, then he said:

-

-“I swear on my sacred honor that I will loyally abide by the spirit of

-the agreement which you have outlined in so far as you and your

-friends act loyally to me and to Miss Merrill, and to that extent

-only.”

-

-“That’s reasonable, and good enough,” Dangle commented. “Now, if

-you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and phone to the others. You will

-understand,” he explained on his return, “that my friends are some

-distance away from Wembley, and it will therefore take them a little

-time to get in. If they start now they will be there as soon as we

-are.”

-

-It was getting towards ten o’clock when Cheyne and Dangle turned into

-the gateway of Earlswood. A yellow car stood at the footpath, at sight

-of which Dangle exclaimed: “See, they’ve arrived.” His ring brought

-Blessington to the door, and the latter greeted Cheyne apologetically,

-but with the same charm of manner that he had displayed in the

-Edgecombe Hotel at Plymouth.

-

-“I do hope, Mr. Cheyne,” he declared, “that even after all that has

-passed, we may yet be friends. We admire the way you have fought your

-corner, and we feel that what we both up to the present have failed to

-do may well be accomplished if we unite our forces. Come in and see if

-you can make friends with Sime.”

-

-“I came to see Miss Merrill,” Cheyne answered shortly. “If Miss

-Merrill is not produced and allowed to go without restraint our

-agreement is _non est_.”

-

-“Naturally,” Blessington returned smoothly. “We understand that that

-is a _sine qua non_. And so Miss Merrill will be produced. She is not

-here; she is at our house in the country in charge of Miss Dangle, and

-that for two reasons. The first is this. She met with, as doubtless

-you know, a trifling accident last night, and her ankle being a little

-painful, she was kept awake for some time. This morning when we left

-she was still asleep. We did not therefore disturb her. That you will

-appreciate, Mr. Cheyne, and the other reason you will appreciate

-equally. We had to satisfy ourselves by a personal interview that you

-really meant to give us a square deal.” He raised his hand as Cheyne

-would have spoken. “There’s nothing in that to which you need take

-exception. It is an ordinary business precaution—nothing more or

-less.”

-

-“And when will Miss Merrill be set at liberty?”

-

-“While I don’t admit the justice of the phrase, I may say that as soon

-as we have all mutually pledged ourselves to play the game I will take

-the car back to the other house, and when Miss Merrill has taken the

-same oath will drive her to her studio. Perhaps you would write her a

-note that you have sworn it, as she mightn’t believe me. There are a

-few preliminaries to be arranged with Dangle and Sime can fix up with

-you. If you are at the studio at midday you will be in time to welcome

-Miss Merrill.”

-

-This did not meet with Cheyne’s approval. He wished to go himself to

-the mysterious house with Blessington, but the latter politely but

-firmly conveyed to him that he had not yet irrevocably committed

-himself on their side, and until he had done so they could not give

-away their best chance of escape should the police become interested

-in their movements. Cheyne argued with some bitterness, but the other

-side held the trumps, and he was obliged to give way.

-

-This point settled, nothing could have exceeded the easy friendliness

-of the trio. If Arnold Price were alive he would share equally with

-the rest. Would Mr. Cheyne come to the study while the formalities

-were got through? Did he consider this oath—typewritten—would meet the

-case? Well, they would take it first, binding themselves individually

-to each other and to him. Each of the three swore loyalty to the

-remaining quintet, the oaths of Joan Merrill and Susan being assumed

-for the moment. Then Cheyne swore and they all solemnly shook hands.

-

-“Now that’s done, Mr. Cheyne, we’ll prove our confidence in you by

-showing you the cipher. But first perhaps you would write to Miss

-Merrill. Also if any point is not quite clear to you please do not

-hesitate to question us.”

-

-Cheyne was by no means enamored of the way things had turned out. He

-had been forced into an association with men with whom he had little

-in common and whom he did not trust. Had it not been for the trump

-card they held in the person of Joan Merrill nothing would have

-induced him to throw in his lot with them. But now, contingent on

-their good faith to him, he had pledged his word, and though he was

-not sure how far an enforced pledge was binding, he felt that as long

-as they kept their part of the bargain, he must keep his. He therefore

-wrote his letter, and then turning to Blessington, answered him

-civilly:

-

-“There is one thing I should like to know; I have thought about it

-many times. How did you drug me in that hotel in Plymouth without my

-knowledge and without leaving any traces in the food?”

-

-Blessington smiled.

-

-“I’ll tell you that with pleasure, Mr. Cheyne,” he answered readily,

-“but I confess I am surprised that a man of your acumen was puzzled by

-it. It depended upon prearrangement, and given that, was perfectly

-simple. I provided myself with the drug—if you don’t mind I won’t say

-how, as I might get someone else into trouble—but I got a small phial

-of it. I also took two other small bottles, one full of clean water,

-the other empty, together with a small cloth. Also I took my Extra

-Special Flask. Sime, like a good fellow, get my flask out of the

-drawer of my wrecked escritoire.” He smiled ruefully at Cheyne. “Then

-I prepared for our lunch: the private room, the menu and all complete.

-I told them at the hotel we had some business to arrange, and that we

-didn’t want to be disturbed after lunch. You know, of course, that I

-got all details of your movements from Miss Dangle?”

-

-“Yes, I understand that.”

-

-As Cheyne spoke Sime re-entered the room, putting down on the table

-the flask which had figured in the scene at the hotel. Blessington

-handed it to Cheyne.

-

-“Examine that flask, Mr. Cheyne,” he invited. “Do you see anything

-remarkable about it?”

-

-It seemed an ordinary silver pocket flask, square and flat, and with a

-screw-down silver stopper. It was chased on both sides with a plain

-but rather pleasing design, and the base was flat so that it would

-stand securely. But Cheyne could see nothing about it in any way

-unusual.

-

-“Open it,” Blessington suggested.

-

-Cheyne unscrewed the stopper and looked down the neck, but except that

-there was a curious projection at one side, which reduced the passage

-down to half the usual size, it seemed as other flasks. Blessington

-laughed.

-

-[Illustration: Two diagrams of a flask, divided down the middle and

-containing liquids in both parts. In the second diagram, the flask is

-tipped, and liquid pours from the right half only.]

-

-“Look here,” he said, and seizing a scrap of paper, he drew the two

-sketches which I reproduce. “The flask is divided down the middle by a

-diaphragm _C_, so as to form two chambers, _A_ and _B_. In these

-chambers are put two liquids, of which one is drugged and the other

-isn’t. _E_ and _F_ are two half diaphragms, and _D_ is a very light

-and delicately fitted flap valve which will close the passage to

-either chamber. When you invert the flask, the liquid in the upper or

-_B_ chamber runs out along diaphragm _C_, and its weight turns over

-valve D so that the passage to _A_ chamber is closed. The liquid from

-_B_ then pours out in the ordinary way. The liquid in _A_, however,

-cannot escape, because it is caught by the diaphragm _F_. If you want

-to pour out the liquid from _A_ you simply turn the flask upside down,

-when the conditions as to the two liquids are reversed. You probably

-didn’t notice that I used the flask in this way at our lunch. You may

-remember that I poured out your liqueur first—it was drugged, of

-course. Then I got a convenient fit of coughing. That gave me an

-excuse to set down the flask and pick it up again, but when I picked

-it up I was careful to do so by the other side, so that undrugged

-liqueur poured into my own cup. I drank my coffee at once to reassure

-you. Simple, wasn’t it?”

-

-“More than simple,” Cheyne answered with unwilling admiration in his

-tone. “A dangerous toy, but I admit, deuced ingenious. But I don’t

-follow even yet. That would have left the drugged remains in the cup.”

-

-“Quite so, but you have forgotten my other two bottles and my cloth. I

-poured the dregs from your cup into the empty bottle, washed the cup

-with water from the other, wiped it with my cloth, poured out another

-cup of coffee and drank it, leaving harmless grounds for any

-inquisitive analyst to experiment with.”

-

-“By Jove!” said Cheyne, then adding regretfully: “If we had only tried

-the handle of the cup for fingerprints!”

-

-“I put gloves on after you went over.”

-

-Cheyne smiled.

-

-“You deserved to succeed,” he admitted ruefully.

-

-“I succeeded in drugging you,” Blessington answered, “but I did not

-succeed in getting what I wanted. Now, Mr. Cheyne, you would like to

-see the tracing. Show it to him, Dangle, while I go back to the other

-house for Miss Merrill.”

-

-Dangle left the room, returning presently with the blue-gray sheet

-which had been the pivot upon which all the strange adventures of the

-little company had turned. Cheyne saw at a glance it was the tracing

-which he had secured in the upper room in the house in Hopefield

-Avenue. There in the corners were the holes made by the drawing-pins

-which had fixed it to the door while it was being photographed. There

-were the irregularly spaced circles, with their letters and numbers,

-and there, written clockwise in a large circle, the words: “England

-expects every man to do his duty.” Cheyne gazed at it with interest,

-while Dangle and Sime sat watching him. What on earth could it mean?

-He pondered awhile, then turned to his companions.

-

-“Have you not been able to read any of it?” he queried.

-

-Dangle shook his head.

-

-“Not so much as a single word—not a letter even!” he declared. “I tell

-you, Mr. Cheyne, it’s a regular sneezer! I wouldn’t like to say how

-many hours we’ve spent—all of us—working at it. And I don’t think

-there’s a book on ciphers in the whole of London that we haven’t read.

-And not a glimmer of light from any of them! Blessington had a theory

-that each of these circles was intended to represent one or more

-atoms, according to the number it contained, and that certain circles

-could be grouped to make molecules of the various substances that were

-to be mixed with the copper. I never could quite understand his idea,

-but in any case all our work hasn’t helped us to find them. The truth

-is that we’re stale. We want a fresh brain on it, and particularly a

-woman’s brain. Sometimes a woman’s intuition will lead her to a lucky

-guess. We hope it may in this case.”

-

-He paused, then went on again: “Another thing we tried was this.

-Suppose that by some system of numerical substitution each of these

-numbers represents a letter. Then groups of these letters together

-with the letters already in the circles should represent words. Of

-course it is difficult to group them, though we tried again and again.

-At first the idea seemed promising, but we could make nothing of it.

-We couldn’t find any system either of substitution or of grouping

-which would give a glimmering of sense. No, we’re up against it and no

-mistake, and when we think of the issues involved we go nearly mad

-from exasperation. Take the thing, Mr. Cheyne, and see what you and

-Miss Merrill can do. That is the original, but I have made a tracing

-of it, so that we can continue our work simultaneously.”

-

-Cheyne felt himself extraordinarily thrilled by this recital, and the

-more he examined the mysterious markings on the sheet the more

-interested he grew. He had always had a _penchant_ for puzzles, and

-ciphers appealed to him as being perhaps the most alluring kind of

-puzzles extant. Particularly did this cipher attract him because of

-the circumstances under which it had been brought to his notice. He

-longed to get to grips with it, and he looked forward with keen

-delight to a long afternoon and evening over it with Joan Merrill,

-whose interest in it would, he felt sure, be no whit less than his

-own.

-

-Certainly, he thought, his former enemies had made a good beginning.

-So far they were playing the game, and he began to wonder if he had

-not to some extent misjudged them, and if the evil characters given

-them by the gloomy Speedwell were not tinged by that despondent

-individual’s jaundiced outlook on life in general.

-

-Dangle had left the room, and he now returned with a bottle of whisky

-and a box of cigars.

-

-“A drink and a cigar to cement our alliance, Mr. Cheyne,” he proposed,

-“and then I think our business will be done.”

-

-Cheyne hesitated, while a vision of the private room in the Edgecombe

-Hotel rose in his memory. Dangle read his thoughts, for he smiled and

-went on:

-

-“I see you don’t quite trust us yet, and I don’t know that I can blame

-you. But we really are all right this time. Examine these tumblers and

-then pour out the stuff yourself, and we’ll drink ours first. We must

-get you convinced of our goodwill.”

-

-Cheyne hesitated, but Dangle insisting, he demonstrated to his

-satisfaction that his companions drank the same mixture as himself.

-Then Dangle opened the cigar box.

-

-“These are specially good, though I say it myself. The box was given

-to Blessington by a rich West Indian planter. We only smoke them on

-state occasions, such as the present. Won’t you take one?”

-

-Cheyne felt it would be churlish to refuse, and soon the three were

-puffing such tobacco as Cheyne at all events had seldom before smoked.

-Sime then excused himself, explaining that though business might be

-neglected it could not be entirely ignored, and Cheyne, thereupon

-taking the hint, said that he too must be off.

-

-“Tomorrow we shall be kept late in town,” Dangle explained, as they

-stood on the doorstep, “but the next evening we shall be here. Will

-you and Miss Merrill come down and report progress, and let us have a

-council of war?”

-

-Cheyne agreed and was turning away, when Dangle made a sudden gesture.

-

-“By George! I was forgetting,” he cried. “Wait a second, Mr. Cheyne.”

-

-He disappeared back into the house, returning a moment later with a

-small purse, which he handed to Cheyne.

-

-“Do you happen to know if that is Miss Merrill’s?” he inquired. “It

-was found beside the chair in which we placed her last night when we

-carried her in.”

-

-Cheyne recognized the article at once. He had frequently seen Joan use

-it.

-

-“Yes, it’s hers,” he answered, to which Dangle replied asking if he

-would take it for her.

-

-Cheyne slipped the purse into his pocket, and next moment he was

-walking along Dalton Road towards the station, free, well, and with

-the tracing in his pocket. Until that moment, in the inner recesses of

-his consciousness doubt of the _bona fides_ of the trio had lingered.

-Until then the fear that he was to be the victim of some plausible

-trick had dwelt in his heart. But now at last he was convinced. Had

-the men desired to harm him they had had a perfect opportunity. He had

-been for the last hour entirely in their power. No one knew where he

-had gone, and they could with the greatest ease have murdered him, and

-either hidden his body about the house or garden or removed it in the

-car during the night. Yes, this time he believed their story. It was

-eminently reasonable, and as a matter of fact, it had been pretty well

-proved by their actions, as well as by the facts that he had learned

-at the Admiralty and elsewhere. They were at a standstill because they

-couldn’t read the cipher, and they really did want, as they said, the

-help of his and Joan’s fresh brains. From their point of view they had

-done a wise thing in thus approaching him—indeed, a masterly thing.

-Cheyne was not conceited and he did not consider his own mental powers

-phenomenal, but he knew he was good at puzzles, and at the very least,

-he and Joan were of average intelligence. Moreover, they were the only

-other persons who knew of the cipher, and it was the soundest strategy

-to turn their antagonism into cooperation.

-

-He reached North Wembley to find a train about to start for Town, and

-some half hour later he was walking up the platform at Euston. He

-looked at his watch. It was barely eleven. An hour would elapse before

-Joan would reach her rooms, and that meant that he had more than half

-an hour to while away before going to meet her. It occurred to him

-that in his excitement he had forgotten to breakfast, and though he

-was not hungry, he thought another cup of coffee would not be

-unacceptable. Moreover, he could at the same time have a look over the

-cipher. He therefore went to the refreshment room, gave his order, and

-sat down at a table in a secluded corner. Then drawing the mysterious

-sheet from his pocket, he began to examine it.

-

-As he leaned forward over his coffee he felt Joan’s purse in his

-pocket, and suddenly fearful lest in his eagerness to tell her his

-experiences he should forget to give it to her, he took it out and

-laid it on the table, intending to carry it in his hand until he met

-her. Then he returned to his study of the tracing.

-

-There are those who tell us that in this world there are no trifles:

-that every event, however unimportant it may appear, is preordained

-and weighty as every other. On this bright spring morning in the first

-class refreshment room at Euston, Cheyne was to meet with a

-demonstration of the truth of this assertion which left him marveling

-and humbly thankful. For there took place what seemed to be a trifling

-thing, and yet that trifle proved to be the most important event that

-had ever taken place, or was to take place, in his life.

-

-When he took his first sip of coffee he found that he had forgotten to

-put sugar in it, and when he looked at the sugar bowl he saw that by

-the merest chance it was empty. An empty sugar bowl. A trifle that, if

-ever there was one! And yet nothing of more supreme moment had ever

-happened to Cheyne than the finding of that empty bowl on his table at

-that moment.

-

-The sugar bowl, then, being empty, he picked it up with his free hand

-and carried it across to the counter to ask the barmaid to fill it.

-Scarcely had he done so when there came from behind him an appalling

-explosion. There was a reverberating crash mingled with the tinkle of

-falling glass, while a sharp blast of air swept past him, laden with

-the pungent smell of some burned chemical. He wheeled round, the

-shrill screams of the barmaids in his ears, to see the corner of the

-room where he had been sitting, in complete wreckage. Through a fog of

-smoke and dust he saw that his table and chair were nonexistent,

-neighboring tables and chairs were overturned, the window was gone,

-hat-racks, pictures, wall advertisements were heaped in broken and

-torn confusion, while over all was spread a coat of plaster which had

-been torn from the wall. On the floor lay a man who had been seated at

-an adjoining table, the only other occupant of that part of the room.

-

-For a moment no one moved, and then there came a rush of feet from

-without, and a number of persons burst into the room. Porters, ticket

-collectors, a guard, and several members of the public came crowding

-in, staring with round eyes and open mouths at the debris. Eager hands

-helped to raise the prostrate man, who appeared to be more or less

-seriously injured, while hurried questions were bandied from lip to

-lip.

-

-It did not need the barmaid’s half hysterical cry: “Why, it was your

-purse; I saw it go,” to make clear to Cheyne what had happened, and as

-he grasped the situation his heart melted within him and a great fear

-took possession of his mind. Once again these dastardly scoundrels had

-hoaxed him! Their oaths, their protestations of friendship, their talk

-of an alliance—all were a sham! They were out to murder him. The purse

-they had evidently stolen from Joan, filling it with explosives, with

-some time agent—probably chemical—to make it go off at the proper

-moment. They had given it to him under conditions which made it a

-practical certainty that at that moment it would be in his pocket,

-when he would be blown to pieces without leaving any clue as to the

-agency which had wrought his destruction. He suddenly felt sick as he

-thought of the whole hideous business.

-

-But it was not contemplation of the fate he had so narrowly escaped

-that sent his heart leaping into his throat in deadly panic. If these

-unspeakable ruffians had tried to murder him with their hellish

-explosives, what about Joan Merrill? All the talk about driving her

-back to her rooms must have been mere eyewash. She must be in deadly

-peril—if it was not too late: if she was not already—Merciful Heaven,

-he could not frame the thought!—if she was not already _dead_! He

-burst into a cold sweat, as the idea burned itself into his

-consciousness. And then suddenly he knew the reason. He loved her! He

-loved this girl who had saved his life and who had already proved

-herself such a splendid comrade and helpmeet. His own life, the

-wretched secret, the miserable pursuit of wealth, victory over the

-gang—what were these worth? They were forgotten—they were nothing—they

-were less than nothing! It was Joan and Joan’s safety that filled his

-mind. “Oh, God,” he murmured in an agony, “save her, save her! No

-matter about anything else, only save her!”

-

-He stood, leaning against the counter, overcome with these thoughts.

-Then the need for immediate action brought him to his senses. Perhaps

-it was not too late. Perhaps something might yet be done. Scotland

-Yard! That was his only hope. Instantly he must go to Scotland Yard

-and implore the help of the authorities.

-

-He glanced round. Persons in authority were entering and pushing to

-the front of the now dense crowd. That surely was the stationmaster,

-and there was a policeman. Cheyne did not want to be detained to

-answer questions. He slipped rapidly into the throng, and by making

-way for those behind to press forward, soon found himself on its

-outskirts. In a few seconds he was on the platform and in a couple of

-minutes he was in a taxi driving towards Westminster as fast as a

-promise of double fare could take him.

-

-He raced into the great building on the Embankment and rather

-incoherently stated his business. He was asked to sit down, and after

-waiting what seemed to him interminable ages, but what was really

-something under five minutes, he was told that Inspector French would

-see him. Would he please come this way.

-

-

-

-Chapter XIII

-

-Inspector French Takes Charge

-

-Cheyne was ushered into a small, plainly furnished room, in which at a

-table-desk was seated a rather stout, clean-shaven man with a

-cheerful, good humored face and the suggestion of a twinkle about his

-eye. He stood up as Cheyne entered, looked him over critically with a

-pair of very keen dark blue eyes, and then smiled.

-

-“Mr. Maxwell Cheyne?” he said genially. “I am Inspector French. You

-wish to consult us? Now just sit down there and tell me your trouble,

-and we’ll do what we can for you.”

-

-His manner was kindly and pleasant and did much to set Cheyne at his

-ease. The young man had been rather dreading his visit, expecting to

-be met with the harsh, incredulous, unsympathetic attitude of

-officialdom. But this inspector, with his easy manners, and his

-apparently human outlook, was quite different from his anticipation.

-He felt drawn to him and realized with relief that at least he would

-get a sympathetic hearing.

-

-“Thank you,” he said, trying to speak calmly. “It’s very good of you,

-I’m sure. I’m in great trouble—not about myself, that is, but about

-my—my friend, a lady, Miss Joan Merrill. I’m afraid she is in terrible

-danger, if indeed it is not too late.”

-

-“Tell me the details.” The man was all attention, and his quiet

-decisive manner induced confidence.

-

-Curbing his impatience, Cheyne related his adventures. In the briefest

-outline he told of the drugging in the Plymouth hotel, of the burglary

-at Warren Lodge, of his involuntary trip on the _Enid_, of his journey

-to London and his adventure in the house in Hopefield Avenue. Then he

-described Joan Merrill’s welcome intervention, his convalescence in

-the hospital, the compact between himself and Joan, his visit to

-Speedwell, and his burglary of Earlswood. He recounted Dangle’s

-appearance as an envoy, the meeting with the gang, and the explosion

-at Euston, and finally voiced the terrible suggestion which this

-latter contained as to the possible fate of Joan.

-

-Inspector French listened to his recital with an appearance of the

-keenest interest.

-

-“You have certainly had an unusual experience, Mr. Cheyne,” he

-remarked. “I don’t know that I can recall a similar case. Now I think

-we may take it that Miss Merrill’s safety is our first concern. We

-shall go out to this house, Earlswood, and see if we can learn

-anything about her there. The other activities of the gang must wait.

-Excuse me a moment.” He gave some orders through his desk telephone,

-resuming: “I should think the house has probably been vacated: these

-people would cover their traces until they learned from the papers

-that you had been killed. However, we’ll soon know that. Wait here

-until I arrange about warrants, and then we’ll start.”

-

-He disappeared for some minutes, while Cheyne fretted and chafed and

-tried to control his impatience. Then he returned, and slipping an

-automatic pistol into his pocket, invited Cheyne to follow him.

-

-He led the way downstairs and out into a courtyard in the great

-building. Two motorcars were just drawing up at the curb, while at the

-same moment no less than eight plain clothes men appeared from another

-door. The party having taken their places, the two vehicles slid out

-through a covered way into the traffic of the town.

-

-“We shall go round to Chelsea first,” French explained, “and make sure

-there is no news of Miss Merrill.”

-

-As they ran quickly through the busy streets, French asked a series of

-questions on points of Cheyne’s statement upon which he desired

-further information. “If this trip draws blank, as I fear it will,” he

-observed, “I shall want you to tell me your story again, this time

-with all the detail you can possibly put into it. For the moment

-there’s not time for that.”

-

-At Horne Terrace there was no trace or tidings of Joan. It was by this

-time half past twelve, half an hour after the time at which

-Blessington had promised she should be there, and Cheyne felt all his

-forebodings confirmed. But he was not surprised, feeling but the more

-eager to push on to Wembley.

-

-On the way French made him draw a sketch map of the position of

-Earlswood, and on nearing his goal he stopped the cars, and calling

-his men together, explained exactly what was to be done. Then telling

-Cheyne to sit with the driver and direct him to the front gate, they

-again mounted and went forward. At a good rate they swung into Dalton

-Road, and Cheyne pointing the way, his car stopped at the gate, while

-the other ran on down the cross-road to the lane at the back. The men

-sprang out, and in less time than it takes to tell, the house was

-surrounded.

-

-Cheyne followed French as he hurried up to the door and gave a

-thundering knock. There was no answer, and walking round the house,

-the two men examined the windows. These being all fastened, French

-turned his attention to the back door, and after two or three minutes’

-work with a bunch of skeleton keys the bolt shot back, and followed by

-Cheyne and two of his men, he entered the house.

-

-A short search revealed the fact that the birds had flown, hurriedly,

-it seemed, as everything had been left exactly as during Cheyne’s

-visit. On the table in the sitting room stood the glasses from which

-they had drunk their whisky, the box of cigars lay open beside them

-and the chairs were still drawn up to the table. But there was no sign

-of Sime or Dangle, and a hurried look round revealed no clue to their

-whereabouts.

-

-“I feared as much,” French commented, as he sent a constable to call

-in the men who were surrounding the house, “but we have still two

-strings to our bow.” He turned to the others, and rapidly gave his

-orders. “You, Hinckston and Tucker, remain here and arrest any one who

-enters this house. Simmons, go to Locke Street, off Southampton Row,

-and find Speedwell, of Horton & Lavender’s Detective Agency. You know

-him, don’t you? Well, find him and tell him this affair has developed

-into attempted murder and abduction, and ask him can he give any

-information to the Yard. Tell him I’m in charge. The rest of you come

-with me to—what did Speedwell give you as Sime’s address, Mr.

-Cheyne? . . . All right, I have it here—to 12 Colton Street, Putney.

-We shall carry out the same plan there, surround the house, and then

-enter and search it. All got that? Come along, Mr. Cheyne.”

-

-They hurried back to the cars and were soon running—somewhat over the

-legal speed—back to town. French, though he had shown energy enough at

-Earlswood, was willing to chat now in a pleasant, leisurely way,

-though he continued to interlard his remarks with questions on the

-details of Cheyne’s story. Then he took over the tracing, and examined

-it curiously. “I’ll have a go at this later,” he said, as he put it in

-his pocket, “but I can scarcely believe they would have given you the

-genuine article.”

-

-Cheyne would have questioned this opinion, reminding his companion he

-had seen the tracing pinned up to be photographed in the house in

-Hopefield Avenue, but just then they swung into Colton Street, and the

-time for conversation had passed. Contrary to his expectation they ran

-past No. 12 without slackening, turned down the first side street

-beyond it, and there came to a stand.

-

-“There’s the end of the passage behind the house,” French pointed when

-his men had dismounted. “Carter and Jones and Marshall go down there

-and watch the back. No doubt you counted and know it’s the eighth

-house. You other two men and you, Mr. Cheyne, come with me.”

-

-He turned back into Colton Street and with his three followers strode

-rapidly up to No. 12. It was like its neighbors, a small two-storied

-single terrace house of old-fashioned design. Indeed the narrow road,

-with its two grimy rows of almost working-class dwellings, seemed more

-like one of those terrible streets built in the last century in the

-slum districts of provincial towns, than a bit of mid-London.

-

-A peremptory knock from French producing no result, he had once more

-recourse to his skeleton keys. This door was easier to negotiate than

-the last, and in less than a minute it swung open and the four men

-entered the house.

-

-On the right of the hall was a tiny sitting room, and there they found

-the remains of what appeared to have been a hastily prepared meal.

-Four chairs were drawn up to the small central table, on which were

-part of a loaf, butter, an empty sardine tin, egg shells, two cups

-containing tea leaves and two glasses smelling of whisky. French put

-his hand on the teapot. “Feel that, Mr. Cheyne,” he exclaimed. “They

-can’t be far away.”

-

-The teapot was warm, and when Cheyne looked into the kitchen

-adjoining, he found that the kettle on the gas ring was also warm,

-though the ring itself had grown cold. If the four lunchers were

-Blessington and Co., as seemed indubitable, they must indeed be close

-by, and Cheyne grew hot with eager excitement as he thought that

-French and he might be within reasonable sight of their goal.

-

-Meanwhile French and his men had carried out a rapid search of the

-house, without result except to prove that once more the birds had

-flown. But as to the direction which their flight had taken there was

-no clue.

-

-“I don’t expect we’ll see them back,” French said to Cheyne, “but we

-must take no chances.” He turned to his men. “Jones and Marshall, stay

-here in the house and arrest any one who enters. You, Carter, make

-inquiries in these houses to the right, and you, Hobbs, do the same to

-the left. Come, Mr. Cheyne, you and I will try the other side of the

-street.”

-

-They crossed to the house opposite, and French knocked. The door was

-opened by a young woman who seemed thrilled by French’s statement that

-he was a police officer making inquiries about the occupiers of No.

-12, but who was unable to give him any useful information about them.

-A man lived there—she believed his name was Sime—but she did not know

-either himself or anything about him. No, she hadn’t seen any recent

-arrivals or departures. She had been engaged at the back of the house

-during the whole morning and had not looked out across the street.

-Yes, she believed Sime lived alone except for an elderly housekeeper.

-As far as she knew he was quite respectable, at least she had never

-heard anything against him.

-

-Politely thanking her, French tried the next house. Here he found a

-small girl who said she had looked out some half an hour previously

-and had seen a yellow motor standing before No. 12. But she had not

-seen it arrive or depart, nor anyone get in or out.

-

-French tried five houses without result, but at the sixth he had a

-stroke of luck.

-

-In this house it appeared that there was a chronic invalid, a sister

-of the woman who opened the door. This poor creature was confined

-permanently to bed, and in the hope of relieving the tedium of the

-days, she had had the bed drawn close to her window, so as to extract

-what amusement she could from the life of the street. If there had

-been any unusual happenings in front of No. 12, she would certainly

-have witnessed them. Yes, the woman was sure her sister would see the

-visitors.

-

-“Lucky chance, that,” French said, as they waited to know if they

-might go up. “If this woman’s eyes and brain are unaffected she’ll

-have become an accurate observer, and we’ll probably learn all there

-is to know.”

-

-In a moment the sister appeared beckoning, and going upstairs they

-found in a small front room a bed drawn up to the window, in which lay

-a superior looking elderly woman with a pale patient face, lined by

-suffering, in which shone a pair of large dark intelligent eyes. She

-was propped up the better to see out, and her face lighted up with

-interest at her unexpected callers, as she laid down among the books

-on the coverlet an intricate looking piece of fancy sewing.

-

-Inspector French bowed to her.

-

-“I’d like to say how much I appreciate your kindness in letting us

-come up, madam,” he said with his pleasant kindly smile, “but when you

-hear that we are trying to find a young lady who we fear has been

-kidnaped, I am sure you will be glad to help us. The matter is

-connected with No. 12 opposite. Can you tell me if any persons arrived

-or left it this morning?”

-

-“Oh, yes, I can,” the invalid replied in cultivated tones—a lady born,

-though fallen on evil days, thought Cheyne—“I like to watch the people

-passing and I did notice arrivals and departures at No. 12. About, let

-me see—half past eleven, or perhaps a minute or two later a motor

-drove up to No. 12, a yellow car, fair size and covered in. Three men

-got out and went into the house. One was Mr. Sime, who lives there,

-the others I didn’t know. Mr. Sime opened the door with his latch-key.

-In a couple of minutes one of the strangers came out again, got into

-the car, and drove off.”

-

-“That the car you saw outside Earlswood, Mr. Cheyne?” asked French.

-

-“Certain to be,” Cheyne nodded. “It was a yellow covered-in car of

-medium size, No. XL7305.”

-

-“I didn’t observe the number,” the lady remarked. “The bonnet was

-facing towards me.”

-

-“What was the driver like, madam?” queried Cheyne.

-

-“One of Mr. Sime’s companions drove. He was short and rather stout,

-with a round face, and what, I believe, is called a toothbrush

-mustache.”

-

-“That’s Blessington all right. And was the third man of medium height

-and build, with a clean-shaven, somewhat rugged face?”

-

-“Yes, that exactly describes him.”

-

-“And that’s Dangle. There’s no question about the party, Inspector.”

-

-“None. Then, madam, you saw—?”

-

-“That, as I said, was about half-past eleven. About half-past one the

-man you have called Blessington came back with the car. He got out,

-left it, and went into the house. In about a quarter of an hour he

-came out again and started his engine. Then the other two men

-followed, assisting a young lady who appeared to be very weak and ill.

-She seemed scarcely able to walk, and they almost carried her. Another

-girl followed, who drew the door of the house after her.”

-

-Cheyne started on hearing these words, and looked with an agonized

-expression at the Inspector. “What were they like, these women?” he

-breathed through his dry lips.

-

-But both men knew the answer. The girl assisted out by Sime and Dangle

-was undoubtedly Joan Merrill, and the other equally certainly was

-Susan Dangle.

-

-“She was lame—the one you thought ill?” Cheyne persisted. “She had

-twisted her ankle.”

-

-“Perhaps so,” the lady returned, “but I do not think so. She seemed to

-me to step equally well on each foot. It was more as if she was half

-asleep or very weak. Her head hung forward and she did not seem to

-notice where she was going.”

-

-Cheyne made a gesture of despair.

-

-“Heavens above!” he cried hoarsely. “What have they done to her?”

-

-“Drugged her,” French answered succinctly. “But you should take

-courage from that, Mr. Cheyne. It looks as if they didn’t mean to do

-her a personal injury. Yes, madam?”

-

-Before the invalid could speak Cheyne went on, a puzzled note in his

-voice.

-

-“But look here,” he said slowly, “I don’t understand this. You say

-that the sick lady was wearing a fur coat?”

-

-“Yes, a musquash fur.”

-

-“But—” He looked at French in perplexity. “Miss Merrill has a fur coat

-like that—I’ve seen it. But she wasn’t wearing it last night. Can it

-be someone else after all?” His voice took on a dawning eagerness.

-

-French shook his head.

-

-“Don’t build too much on that, Mr. Cheyne. They may have lent her a

-coat.”

-

-“Yes, but why should they? She had a coat last night, a perfectly warm

-coat of brown cloth. She wouldn’t want another.”

-

-“Perhaps her own got muddy when she fell. We’ll have to leave it at

-that for the moment. We’ll consider it later. Let’s get on now and

-hear what this lady can tell us. Yes, madam, if you please?”

-

-“I am afraid there is not much more to be told. All five got into the

-car and drove off.”

-

-“In which direction?”

-

-“Eastwards.”

-

-“That is to say, they have just left about half an hour. We were only

-fifteen minutes behind them, Mr. Cheyne.”

-

-He got up to go, but the lady motioned him back to his seat.

-

-“There is one other thing I have just remembered,” she said. “It may

-or may not have something to do with the affair. Last night—it must

-have been about half-past eleven—I heard a motor in the street. It

-stopped for about ten minutes, though the engine ran all the time,

-then went off again. I didn’t look out, but now that I come to think

-about it it sounded as if it might be standing at No. 12. Of course

-you understand that is only a guess, but motorcars are somewhat rare

-visitors to this street, and there may have been some connection.”

-

-“Extremely probable, I should think, madam,” French commented. He

-rose. “Now we must be off to act on what you have told us. I needn’t

-say that you have placed us very greatly in your debt.”

-

-“It was but little I could do,” the lady returned. “I do hope you may

-be able to help that poor girl. I should be so glad to hear that she

-is all right.”

-

-Cheyne was touched by this unexpected sympathy.

-

-“You may count on my letting you know, madam,” he said, and then

-thinking of the terribly monotonous existence led by the poor soul, he

-went on warmly: “I should like, if I might, to call and tell you all

-about it, but if I am prevented I shall certainly write. May I know

-what name to address to?”

-

-“Mrs. Sproule, 17 Colton Street. I should be glad to see you if you

-are in this district, but I couldn’t think of taking you out of your

-way.”

-

-A few moments later French had collected his three remaining men, and

-was being driven rapidly to the nearest telephone call office. There

-he rang up the Yard, repeated the descriptions of the car and of each

-of its occupants, and asked for the police force generally to be

-advised that they were wanted, particularly the men on duty at railway

-stations and wharves, not only in London, but in the surrounding

-country.

-

-“Now we’ll have a shot at picking up the trail ourselves,” he went on

-to Cheyne when he had sent his message. He re-entered the car, calling

-to the driver: “Get back and find the men on point duty round about

-Colton Street.”

-

-Of the four men they interviewed, three had not noticed the yellow

-car. The fourth, on a beat in the thoroughfare at the eastern end of

-Colton Street, had seen a car of the size and color in question going

-eastwards at about the hour the party had left No. 12. There seeming

-nothing abnormal about the vehicle, he had not specially observed it

-or noted the number, but he had looked at the driver, and the man he

-described resembled Blessington.

-

-“That’s probably it all right,” French commented, “but it doesn’t help

-us a great deal. If they were going to any of the stations or

-steamers, or to practically anywhere in town, this is the way they

-would pass. Let us try a step further.”

-

-Keeping in the same general direction they searched for other men on

-point duty, but though after a great deal of running backwards and

-forwards, they found all in the immediate neighborhood that the car

-would have been likely to pass, none of them had noticed it.

-

-“We’ve lost them, I’m afraid,” French said at last. “We had better go

-back to the Yard. As soon as that description gets out we may have

-news at any minute.”

-

-A quarter of an hour later they passed once more through the corridors

-of the great building which houses the C.I.D., and reached French’s

-room. There sitting waiting for them was the melancholy private

-detective, Speedwell. He rose as they entered.

-

-“Afternoon, Mr. French. Afternoon, Mr. Cheyne,” he said

-ingratiatingly, rubbing his hands together. “I got your message, Mr.

-French, and I thought I’d better call round. Of course I’ll tell you

-anything I can to help.”

-

-French beamed on him.

-

-“Now that was good of you, Speedwell; very good. I’ll not forget it.

-Did Simmons tell you what had happened?”

-

-“Not in detail—only that Blessington, Sime, and the Dangles were

-wanted.”

-

-“Well, Mr. Cheyne here and Miss Merrill were out there last night,” he

-shook his head reproachfully at Cheyne while a twinkle showed in his

-eyes, “and your friends got hold of Miss Merrill and we can’t find

-her. Mr. Cheyne they enticed into the house with a fair story. They

-led him to believe that Miss Merrill would be in her studio when he

-got back to town and gave him her purse, which they said she had

-dropped. It contained a time bomb, and only the merest chance saved

-Mr. Cheyne from being blown to bits. There are charges against the

-quartet of attempted murder of Mr. Cheyne, and of abduction of Miss

-Merrill. Can you help us at all?”

-

-Speedwell shook his head.

-

-“I doubt it, Mr. French, I doubt it, sir. I found out a little, not

-very much. But all the information I have is at your disposal.”

-

-Cheyne stared at him.

-

-“But how can that be?” he exclaimed. “You were in their confidence—to

-some extent at all events. Surely you got some hint of what they were

-after?”

-

-Speedwell made a deferential movement, and his smile became still more

-oily and ingratiating.

-

-“Now, Mr. Cheyne, sir, you mustn’t think too much of that. That was

-what we might call in the way of business.” He glanced sideways at

-Cheyne from his little foxy close-set eyes. “You can’t complain, sir,

-but what I answered your questions, and you’ll admit you got value for

-your money.”

-

-“I don’t understand you,” Cheyne returned sharply. “Do you mean that

-that tale you told me was a lie, and that you weren’t employed by

-these people to find the man who burgled their house?”

-

-Speedwell rubbed his hands together more vigorously.

-

-“A little business expedient, sir, merely an ordinary little business

-expedient. It would be a foolish man who would not display his wares

-to the best advantage. I’m sure, sir, you’ll agree with that.”

-

-Cheyne looked at him fiercely for a moment.

-

-“You infernal rogue!” he burst out hotly. “Then your tale to me was a

-tissue of lies, and on the strength of it you cheated me out of my

-money! Now you’ll hand that £150 back! Do you hear that?”

-

-Speedwell’s smile became the essence of craftiness.

-

-“Not so fast, sir, not so fast,” he purred. “There’s no need to use

-unpleasant language. You asked for a thing and agreed to pay a certain

-price. You got what you asked for, and you paid the price you agreed.

-There was no cheating there.”

-

-Cheyne was about to retort, but French, suave and courteous, broke in:

-

-“Well, we can talk of that afterwards. I think, Mr. Cheyne, that Mr.

-Speedwell has made us a satisfactory offer. He says he will tell us

-everything he knows. For my part I am obliged to him for that, as he

-is not bound to say anything at all. I think you will agree that we

-ought to thank him for the position he is taking up, and to hear what

-he has to say. Now, Speedwell, if you are ready. Take a cigar first,

-and make yourself comfortable.”

-

-“Thank you, Mr. French. I am always glad, as you know, sir, to assist

-the Yard or the police. I haven’t much to tell you, but here is the

-whole of it.”

-

-He lit his cigar, settled himself in his chair, and began to speak.

-

-

-

-Chapter XIV

-

-The Clue of the Clay-marked Shoe

-

-“You know, Mr. French,” said Speedwell, “about my being called in by

-the manager of the Edgecombe in Plymouth when Mr. Cheyne was drugged?

-Mr. Cheyne has told you about that, sir?” French nodded and the other

-went on: “Then I need only tell you what Mr. Cheyne presumably does

-not know. I may just explain before beginning that I came into contact

-with Mr. Jesse, the manager, over some diamonds which were lost by a

-visitor to the hotel and which I had the good fortune to recover.

-

-“The first point that struck me about Mr. Cheyne’s little affair was,

-How did the unknown man know Mr. Cheyne was going to lunch at that

-hotel on that day? I found out from Mr. Cheyne that he hadn’t

-mentioned his visit to Plymouth to anyone outside of his own

-household, and I found out from Mrs. and Miss Cheyne that they hadn’t

-either. But Miss Cheyne said it had been discussed at lunch, and that

-gave me the tip. If these statements were all O.K. it followed that

-the leakage must have been through the servants and I had a chat with

-both, just to see what they were like. The two were quite different.

-The cook was good-humored and stupid and easy going, and wouldn’t have

-the sense to run a conspiracy with anyone, but the parlormaid was an

-able young woman as well up as any I’ve met. So it looked as if it

-must be her.

-

-“Then I thought over the burglary, and it seemed to me that the

-burglars must have got inside help, and if so, there again Susan was

-the girl. Of course there was the tying up, but that would be the

-natural way to work a blind. I noticed that the cook’s wrists were

-swollen, but Susan’s weren’t marked at all, so I questioned the cook,

-and I got a bit of information out of her that pretty well proved the

-thing. She said she heard the burglars ring and heard Susan go to the

-door. But she said it was three or four minutes before Susan screamed.

-Now if Susan’s story was true she would have screamed far sooner than

-that, for, according to her, the men had only asked could they write a

-letter when they seized her. So that again looked like Susan. You

-follow me, sir?”

-

-Again French nodded, while Cheyne broke in: “You never told me

-anything of that.”

-

-Speedwell smiled once more his crafty smile.

-

-“Well, no, Mr. Cheyne, I didn’t mention it certainly. It was only a

-theory, you understand. I thought I’d wait till I was sure.

-

-“Well, gentlemen, there it was. Someone wanted some paper that Mr.

-Cheyne had—it was almost certainly a paper, as they searched his

-pocketbook—and Susan was involved. I hung about Warren Lodge, and all

-the time I was watching Susan. I found she wrote frequent letters and

-always posted them herself: so that was suspicious too. Then one day

-when she was out I slipped up to her room and searched around. I found

-a writing case in her box of much too good a kind for a servant, and a

-blotting-paper pad with a lot of ink marks. When I put the pad before

-a mirror I made out an address written several times: ‘Mr. J. Dangle,

-Laurel Lodge, Hopefield Avenue, Hendon.’ So that was that.”

-

-Speedwell paused and glanced at his auditors in turn, but neither

-replying, he resumed:

-

-“I generally try to make a friend when I’m on a case: they’re useful

-if you want some special information. So I chummed up with the

-housemaid at Mrs. Hazelton’s—friends of Mr. Cheyne’s—live quite close

-by. I told this girl I was on the burglary job, and that there would

-be big money in it if the thieves were caught, and that if she helped

-me she should get her share. I told her I had my suspicions of Susan,

-said I was going to London, and asked her would she watch Susan and

-keep me advised of how things went on. She said yes, and I gave her a

-couple of pounds on account, just to keep her eager, while I came back

-to town to look after Dangle.”

-

-In spite of the keen interest with which he was listening to these

-revelations, Cheyne felt himself seething with indignant anger. How he

-had been hoodwinked by this sneaking scoundrel, with his mean

-ingratiating smile and his assumption of melancholy! He could have

-kicked himself as he remembered how he had tried to cheer and

-encourage the mock pessimist. He wondered which was the more hateful,

-the man’s deceit or the cynical way he was now telling of it. But,

-apparently unconscious of the antagonism which he had aroused,

-Speedwell calmly and, Cheyne thought disgustedly, a trifle proudly,

-continued his narrative.

-

-“I soon found that James Dangle lived at Laurel Lodge. He was alone

-except for a daily char, but up till a short while earlier his sister

-had kept house for him. When I learned that his sister had left Laurel

-Lodge on the same day that Susan took up her place at Warren Lodge, I

-soon guessed who Susan really was.

-

-“I thought that when these two would go to so much trouble, the thing

-they were after must be pretty well worth while, and I thought it

-might pay me if I could find out what it was. So I shadowed Dangle,

-and learned a good deal about him. I learned that he was constantly

-meeting two other men, so I shadowed them and learned they were

-Blessington and Sime. Blessington I guessed first time I saw him was

-the man who had drugged you, Mr. Cheyne, for he exactly covered your

-and the manager’s descriptions. It seemed clear then that these three

-and Susan Dangle—if her real name was Susan—were in the conspiracy to

-get whatever you had.”

-

-“But what I would like to have explained,” Cheyne burst in, “was why

-you didn’t tell me what you had discovered. You were paid to do it.

-What did you think you were taking that hotel manager’s money for?”

-

-Speedwell made a gesture of deferential disagreement.

-

-“I scarcely think that you can find fault with me there, Mr. Cheyne,”

-he answered with his ingratiating smile. “I was investigating: I had

-not reached the end of my investigation. As you will see, sir, my

-investigation took a somewhat unexpected turn—a very unexpected turn,

-I might almost say, which left me in a bit of doubt as to how to act.

-But you’ll hear.”

-

-Inspector French had been sitting quite still at his desk, but now he

-stretched out his hand, took a cigar from the box, and as he lit it,

-murmured: “Go on, Speedwell. Sounds like a novel. I’m enjoying it.

-Aren’t you, Mr. Cheyne?”

-

-Cheyne made noncommital noises, and Speedwell, looking pleased,

-continued:

-

-“One evening, nearly two months ago, I got back late from another job

-and I found a wire waiting for me. It was from Mrs. Hazelton’s

-housemaid and it said: ‘Maxwell Cheyne disappeared and Susan left

-Warren Lodge for London.’ I thought to myself: ‘Bully for you, Jane,’

-and then I thought: ‘Susan will be turning to Brother James. I’ll go

-out to Hopefield Avenue and see if I can pick anything up.’ So I went

-out. It was about half-past ten when I arrived. I found the front of

-the house in darkness, but an upper window at the back was lighted up.

-There was a lane along behind the houses, you understand, Mr. French,

-and a bit of garden between them and the lane. The gate into the

-garden was open, and I slipped in and began to tiptoe towards the

-house. Then I heard soft steps coming in after me, and I turned aside

-and hid behind a large shrub to see what would happen. And then I saw

-something that interested me very much. A man came in very quietly and

-I saw in the faint moonlight that he was carrying a ladder.” There was

-an exclamation from Cheyne. “He put the ladder to the lighted window

-and climbed up, and then I saw who it was. I needn’t tell you, Mr.

-Cheyne, I was surprised to see you, and I waited behind the bush for

-what would happen. I saw and heard the whole thing: the party coming

-down to supper, your getting in, Sime coming out and seeing the

-ladder, the alarm, your coming out, and them getting you on the head

-in the garden. You’ll perhaps think, Mr. Cheyne, that I should have

-come out and lent you a hand, but after all, sir, I don’t know that

-you could claim that you had the right of it altogether, and besides,

-it all happened so quickly I had no chance to interfere. Well, anyhow

-they knocked you out and then they searched you and took a folded

-paper from your pocket. ‘Thank goodness, we’ve got the tracing at all

-events,’ Dangle said, speaking very softly, ‘but now we’re in the soup

-and no mistake. What are we going to do with the confounded fool’s

-body?’ They examined the ladder and saw from the contractor’s name

-that it had been brought from the new house, then they whispered

-together and I couldn’t hear what was said, but at last Sime said:

-‘Right, we’ll fix it so that it will look as if he fell off the

-ladder.’ Then the three men picked you up, Mr. Cheyne, and carried you

-out down the lane. Susan stood in the garden waiting, and I had to sit

-tight behind the bush. In about ten minutes the men came back and then

-Sime took the ladder and carried it away down the lane. The others

-whispered together and then Dangle said something to Susan, ending up:

-‘It’s in the second left hand drawer.’ She went indoors, but came out

-again in a moment with a powerful electric torch. Blessington and

-Dangle then searched for traces of your little affair, Mr. Cheyne.

-They found the marks of the ladder butts in the soft grass and

-smoothed them out, and they looked everywhere, I suppose, for

-footprints or something that you might have dropped when you fell.

-Then Sime came back and they all went in and shut the door.”

-

-Cheyne snorted angrily.

-

-“It didn’t occur to you, I suppose, to make any effort to help me or

-even find out if I was alive or dead? You weren’t going to have any

-trouble, even if you did become an accessory after the fact?”

-

-“I’m coming to that, Mr. Cheyne. All in good time, sir.” Speedwell

-rubbed his hands unctuously. “You will understand that as long as the

-garden was occupied I couldn’t come out from behind the bush. But

-directly the coast was clear I got out of the garden and turned along

-the lane where they had carried you. I wondered where they could have

-hidden you, and I started searching. I remembered what Sime had said

-about the ladder, so I went to the half-built house and had a look

-around, but I couldn’t find you in it. Then I saw you lying back of

-the road fence, but just at that minute I heard footsteps, and I

-stopped behind a pile of bricks till the party would pass. But you

-called out and the lady stopped, and once again I couldn’t interfere.

-I heard the arrangements about the taxi, and when the lady went away

-to get it I slipped out and hid where I could see it. In that way I

-got its number. Next day I saw the driver and got out of him where he

-had taken you, and I kept my eye on you and when you got better

-trailed you to Miss Merrill’s. From other people living in the flats I

-found out about her.” After a pause he concluded: “And I think,

-gentlemen, that’s about all I have to tell you.”

-

-Inspector French slowly expelled a cloud of gray cigar smoke from his

-mouth.

-

-“Really, Speedwell, you have surpassed yourself,” he murmured. “Your

-story, as I told you, sounds like a novel. A pity though, that having

-gone so far you did not go a little farther. You did not find out, for

-example, what business this mysterious quartet were plotting?”

-

-“I did not, Mr. French,” the man returned earnestly. “I gathered that

-it was connected with ‘the tracing’ that Dangle spoke of, and I

-imagined the tracing was what they had been wanting from Mr. Cheyne,

-and evidently had got, but I didn’t get a sight of it, and I have no

-idea of their game.”

-

-“And did you find out nothing that might be a help? Where did those

-three men spend their time? What did they do in the daytime?”

-

-“Just what I told Mr. Cheyne, sir. I gave him perfectly correct

-information in everything. Dangle is a town sharp and helps run a

-gambling room in Knightsbridge. Sime is another of the same—collects

-pigeons in the night clubs for the others to pluck. Blessington, I got

-the hint, lived by blackmail, but I’ve no proof of this.”

-

-“Anything else?”

-

-“No, Mr. French, not that I know. Unless”—he hesitated—“unless one

-thing. It may or may not be important; I don’t know. It’s this:

-Dangle, during these last three or four weeks, he’s been away nearly

-half the time from London—on the Continent. I don’t know to what

-country, but it must be France or Belgium or Holland, I should

-think—or maybe Ireland—because he has crossed over one night and

-crossed back the next. I know that because of a remark I overheard him

-make to Sime in a tube lift where I was standing just behind him. It

-was a Wednesday and he said: ‘I’m crossing tonight, but I’ll be back

-on Friday morning.’”

-

-This seemed to be the sum total of Speedwell’s knowledge, or at least

-all he would divulge, and he presently departed, apparently cheered by

-French’s somewhat cryptic declaration that he would not forget the

-part the other had played in the affair. He perhaps would not have

-been so pleased had he heard French’s subsequent comments to Cheyne.

-“A dangerous man, Mr. Cheyne, for an amateur to deal with, though he’s

-too much afraid of the Yard to try any monkeying with me. I may tell

-you in confidence that he was dismissed from the force on suspicion of

-taking bribes to let a burglar get away—I needn’t say the thing

-couldn’t be proved, or he would have seen the inside of a convict

-prison, but there was no doubt at all that he was guilty. Since that

-he has been caught sailing rather close to the wind, but again he just

-managed to keep himself safe. But the result is, he would do anything

-to curry favor here, and indeed once or twice he has been quite

-useful. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he had been blackmailing

-Blessington & Co. in connection with your attempted murder.”

-

-“Ugh!” Cheyne made a gesture of disgust. “The very sight of the man

-makes me sick.” Then, his look of anxious eagerness returning, he went

-on: “But, Inspector, his story is all very well and interesting and

-all that, but I don’t see that it helps us to find Miss Merrill, and

-that is the only thing that matters.”

-

-“The only thing to you, perhaps,” French returned, “but not the only

-thing to me. This whole business looks uncommonly like conspiracy for

-criminal purposes, and if so, it automatically concerns the Yard.” He

-glanced at the clock on the wall before his desk. “Let’s see now, it’s

-just five o’clock. Before giving up for the day I should like to have

-a look over Miss Merrill’s room to settle that little question of the

-fur coat, and I should like you to come with me. Shall we go now?”

-

-Cheyne sprang to his feet eagerly. Action was what he wanted, and his

-heart beat more rapidly at the prospect of visiting a place where

-every object would remind him of the girl he loved, and whom, in spite

-of himself, he feared he had lost. Impatiently he waited while French

-put on his hat and left word where he could be found in case of need.

-

-Some fifteen minutes later the two men were ascending the stairs of

-the house in Horne Terrace. The door of No. 12 was shut, and to

-Cheyne’s knock there was no response.

-

-“I’m afraid you needn’t expect Miss Merrill to have got back,” French

-commented. “I had better open the door.”

-

-He worked at it for a few moments, first with his bunch of skeleton

-keys, then with a bent wire, until the bolt shot back, and pushing

-open the door, they entered the room.

-

-It was just as Cheyne had last seen it except that the kettle and tea

-equipage had been tidied away. French stood in the middle of the

-floor, glancing keenly round on the contents. Then he moved to the

-other door.

-

-“This her bedroom?” he inquired, as he pushed it open and looked in.

-

-As Cheyne followed him into the tiny apartment, he felt as a devout

-Mohammedan might, who through stress of circumstances entered fully

-shod into one of the holy places of his religion. It seemed nothing

-short of profanation for himself and this commonplace inspector of

-police to intrude into a place so hallowed by association with Her. In

-a kind of reverent awe he looked about him. There was the bed in which

-She slept, the table at which She dressed, the wardrobe in which Her

-dresses hung, and there—what were those? He stood, stricken motionless

-by surprise, staring at a tiny pair of rather high-heeled brown shoes

-which were lying on their sides on the floor in front of a chair.

-

-French noted his expression.

-

-“What is it?” he queried, following the direction of the other’s eyes.

-

-“Her shoes!” Cheyne said in a tone of wonder, as he might have said:

-“Her diamond coronet.”

-

-French frowned.

-

-“Well, what’s wonderful about that?” he asked with the nearest

-approach to sharpness in his tone that Cheyne had yet heard.

-

-“Her shoes,” Cheyne repeated. “Her shoes that she wore last night.”

-

-It was now French’s turn to look interested.

-

-“Sure of that?” he asked, picking up the shoes.

-

-“Certain. I saw them on her in the train to Wembley. Unless she has

-two absolutely identical pairs, she was wearing those.”

-

-French had been turning the shoes over in his hand.

-

-“You said you saw a mark of where someone had slipped on the bank

-behind the wall you threw the tracing over,” he went on. “You might

-describe that mark.”

-

-“It was just a kind of scrape on the sloping ground, with the

-footprint below it. Her foot had evidently slipped down till it came

-to a firmer place.”

-

-“Right foot or left?”

-

-“Right.”

-

-“And which way was the toe pointing: towards the bank or parallel with

-it?”

-

-“Parallel. She had evidently climbed up diagonally.”

-

-“Quite so. Now another question. If you were standing in the field

-looking towards the bank, did she climb towards the right hand or the

-left?”

-

-“The left.”

-

-“And the soil where the mark was; you might describe that.”

-

-“It was rather light in color, a yellowish brown. It was clayey, and

-the print showed clearly, as it would in stiff putty.”

-

-French nodded.

-

-“Then, Mr. Cheyne, if all your data are right, and if the footprint

-was made by Miss Merrill when she was wearing these shoes, I should

-expect to find a mark of yellowish clay on the outside of the right

-shoe. Isn’t that correct?”

-

-Cheyne thought for a moment, then signified his assent.

-

-“I turn up this shoe,” French continued, suiting the action to the

-word, “and I find here the very mark I was expecting. See for

-yourself. I think we may take it then, not only that Miss Merrill made

-the mark on the bank, and of course made it last night, but also that

-she was wearing these shoes when she made it. And that would coincide

-with your observation.”

-

-“But,” cried Cheyne, “I don’t understand. How did the shoes get here?

-Miss Merrill wasn’t here since we left to go to Wembley.”

-

-“How do you know?”

-

-“Well, there’s what Dangle said. I don’t mean of course that I believe

-Dangle. Everything else he’s said to me has turned out to be a lie.

-But in this case the circumstances seem to prove this story. If he

-didn’t see Miss Merrill how did he know of her getting over the wall

-for the tracing? And if he didn’t capture her then why did she not

-return here? Or rather, suppose she did return, why should she go away

-again without leaving a note or sending me a message?”

-

-French shook his head.

-

-“I don’t know,” he answered. “I merely asked the question and your

-answer certainly seems sound. But now let us look about the coat.” He

-opened the wardrobe door. “Is the cloth coat she was wearing last

-night here?”

-

-A glance showed Cheyne the brown cloth, fur-trimmed coat Joan had worn

-on the previous evening.

-

-“And you will see further,” went on French when he had been satisfied

-on this point, “that there is no coat here of musquash fur. You say

-she had one?”

-

-“Yes. I have seen her wearing it several times.”

-

-“Then I think Mrs. Sproule saw her wearing it today. We may take it, I

-think, either that she returned here last night and changed her

-clothes, or else that someone brought in her coat and shoes, left them

-here and took out her others.”

-

-“The latter, I should think,” Cheyne declared.

-

-“Why?”

-

-“Because I don’t think she would come here of her own free will and

-leave again without sending me some message.”

-

-French did not reply. He had rather taken the view that if the girl

-was the prisoner of the gang the garments would not have been changed,

-and the more he thought over it the more probable this seemed. Rather

-he was inclined to believe that she had reached her rooms after the

-episode at Earlswood, possibly even with the tracing; that she had

-been followed there and by some trick induced to leave again, when in

-all probability she had been kidnaped and the tracing recovered by the

-gang. But he felt there was no use in discussing this theory with

-Cheyne, whose anxiety as to the girl’s welfare had rendered his

-critical faculty almost useless. He turned back to the young man.

-

-“I have no doubt that that shoe of Miss Merrill’s made the mark you

-saw,” he observed. “At the same time I want definite evidence. It

-won’t take very long to run out to Wembley and try. Let us go now, and

-that will finish us for tonight.”

-

-They took a taxi and were soon at the place in question. The print was

-not so clear as when Cheyne had seen it first, but in spite of this

-French had no difficulty in satisfying himself. The shoe fitted it

-exactly.

-

-That night after supper, as French stretched himself in his

-easy-chair, he decided he would have a preliminary look at the

-tracing. He recognized that the mere fact that it had been handed to

-Cheyne by Dangle involved the probability that it was not the genuine

-document but a faked copy. At the same time he was bound to make what

-he could of it, and it was with very keen interest he unfolded and

-began to study it.

-

-It was neatly drawn, though evidently not by a professional

-draughtsman. The lettering of the words, “England expects every man to

-do his duty” was amateurish. He wondered what the phrase could mean.

-It did not seem to ring quite true. In his mind the words ran “England

-expects that every man this day will do his duty,” but he rather

-thought this was the version in the song, and if so, the wording might

-have been altered from the original for metrical reasons. He

-determined to look up the quotation on the first opportunity. On the

-other hand it might have been condensed into eight words in order to

-fit round the sheet. It was spaced in a large circle among the smaller

-circles like the figures of a clock. It conveyed to him no idea

-whatever, except the obvious suggestion of Nelson. Could Nelson, he

-wondered, or Trafalgar, be the key word in some form of cipher?

-

-As he studied the sheet he noted some points which Cheyne appeared to

-have missed, or which at all events he had not mentioned. While the

-circles were spaced without any apparent plan—absolutely irregularly,

-it seemed to French—there was some evidence of arrangement in their

-contents. Those nearer the edges of the tracing contained letters,

-while those more centrally situated bore numbers. There was no hard

-and fast line between the two, as letters and numbers appeared, so to

-speak, to overlap each other’s territory, but broadly speaking the

-arrangement held. He noticed also a few circles which contained

-neither numbers nor letters, but instead tiny irregular lines. There

-were only some half dozen of these, but all of them so far as he could

-see occurred on the neutral territory between the number zone and the

-letter zone. These irregular lines represented nothing that he could

-imagine, and no two appeared of the same shape.

-

-That the document was a cipher he could not but conclude, and in vain

-he puzzled over it until long past his usual bedtime. Finally, locking

-it away in his desk, he decided that when he had completed the obvious

-investigations which still remained, he would have another go at it,

-working through all the possibilities that occurred to him

-systematically and thoroughly.

-

-But before French had another opportunity to examine it, further news

-had come in which had led him a dance of several hundred miles, and

-left him hot on the track of the conspirators.

-

-

-

-Chapter XV

-

-The Torn Hotel Bill

-

-On reaching the Yard next morning Inspector French began his day by

-compiling a list of the various points on which obvious investigations

-still remained to be made. He had already determined that these should

-be carried through with the greatest possible dispatch, leaving a

-general consideration of the case over until their results should be

-available.

-

-The immediate questions were, of course: Was Joan Merrill alive? And

-if so, where was she? These must be solved as soon as possible. The

-further matters relating to the hiding-place and aims of the gang

-could wait. It was, however, likely enough that if French could find

-Joan, he would have at least gone a long way towards solving her

-captors’ secret.

-

-Perhaps the most promising of all the lines of inquiry open to him

-were the detailed searches of Blessington’s and Sime’s houses, and he

-decided he would begin with these. Accordingly, having called Sergeant

-Carter and a couple more men, he went out to Earlswood and set to

-work.

-

-French was extraordinarily thorough. Nothing in that house, from the

-water cistern space in the roof to the floors of the pantries and the

-tool shed in the yard—nothing escaped observation. The furniture was

-examined, particularly the writing desk and the old escritoire, the

-carpets were lifted and the floors tested, the walls were minutely

-inspected for secret receptacles, the pages of the books were turned

-over, the clothes—of which a respectable wardrobe remained—were gone

-through, with special attention to the pockets. Nothing was taken for

-granted: everything was examined. Even the outside of the house and

-the soil of the garden were looked at, and at the end, some four hours

-after they had begun, French had to admit that his gains were

-practically nil.

-

-The reservation was in respect of four objects, from one or more of

-which he might conceivably extract some information, though he was far

-from hopeful. The first was the top sheet of Blessington’s writing

-pad. French, following his usual custom, had examined it through a

-mirror, but so completely covered was it with inkstains that he was

-unable to decipher even a single word. However, on chance he tore it

-off and put it in his pocket, in the hope that a future more detailed

-examination might reveal something of interest.

-

-The second object was a scrap of crumpled paper which he found in the

-right-hand upper pocket of one of Dangle’s waistcoats. It looked as if

-it had been crushed to the bottom of the pocket by some other

-article—such as an engagement book—being thrust down on the top of it.

-When the pockets had been cleared—as all had been—this small piece of

-paper had evidently been overlooked.

-

-French straightened it out. It was the bottom portion of what was

-clearly a bill, apparently a French hotel bill. On the back was a note

-written in pencil, and as French read it, the thought passed through

-his mind that he could not have imagined any more unexpected or

-puzzling contents. It was in the form of a memorandum and read:

-

-    . . . . . . ins.

-    . . . . ators.

-    Peaches—3 doz. tins.

-    Safety Matches—6 doz. boxes.

-    Galsworthy—The Forsyte Saga.

-    Pencils and Fountain Pen Ink.

-    Sou’wester.

-

-The paper was torn across the first two items, so that only part of

-the words were legible. What so heterogeneous a collection could

-possibly refer to French could not imagine, but he put the fragment in

-his pocket with the blotting paper for future study.

-

-The other two objects were photographs, and from the descriptions he

-had received from Cheyne he felt satisfied that one was of Blessington

-and the other of Dangle. These were of no help in themselves, but

-might later prove useful for identification purposes.

-

-The search of Earlswood complete, French gave his men an hour for

-lunch, and then started a similar investigation of Sime’s house. He

-was just as painstaking and thorough here, but this time he had no

-luck at all. Though Sime had not so carefully destroyed papers and

-correspondence, he could not find a single thing which seemed to offer

-help.

-

-Sime’s house being so much smaller than Blessington’s, the search was

-finished in little over an hour. On its completion French sent two of

-his men back to the Yard, while with Sergeant Carter he drove to Horne

-Terrace. There he examined Joan Merrill’s rooms, again without result.

-

-The work ended about four, and then he and Carter began another job,

-quite as detailed and a good deal more wearisome than the others. He

-had determined to question individually every other person living in

-the house—that is, the inhabitants of no less than nine flats—in the

-hope that some one of them might have seen or heard Joan returning to

-her rooms on the night of her disappearance. In a way the point was

-not of supreme importance, but experience had taught French the danger

-of neglecting _any_ clue, no matter how unpromising, and he had long

-since made it a principle to follow up every opening which offered.

-

-For over two hours he worked, and at last, as he was beginning to

-accept defeat, he obtained just the information he required.

-

-It appeared that about a quarter past eleven on the night in question,

-the fifteen-year-old daughter of a widow living on the third floor was

-returning home from some small jollification when she saw, just as she

-approached the door, three persons come out. Two were men, one tall,

-well built and clean-shaven, the other short and stout, with a fair

-toothbrush mustache. The third person was Miss Merrill. A street lamp

-had shone directly on their faces as they emerged, and the girl had

-noticed that the men wore serious expressions and that Miss Merrill

-looked pale and anxious, as if all three were sharers in some bad

-news. They crossed the sidewalk to a waiting motor. Miss Merrill and

-the taller man got inside, the second man driving. During the time the

-girl saw them, none of them spoke. She remembered the car. It was a

-yellow one with a coach body, and looked a private vehicle. Yes, she

-recognized the photograph the Inspector showed her—Blessington’s. It

-was that of the driver of the car.

-

-It did not seem worth while to French to try to trace the car, as he

-fancied he knew where it had gone. From Horne Terrace to Sime’s house

-in Colton Street was about a ten minute run. Therefore if it left the

-former about 11:15, it should reach the latter a minute or two before

-the half-hour. This worked in with the time at which the invalid lady,

-Mrs. Sproule, had heard the motor stop in the street, and to French it

-seemed clear that Miss Merrill had been taken direct to Sime’s, and

-kept there until 1:45 P.M. on the following day. What arguments or

-threats the pair had used to get her to accompany them French could

-not tell, but he shrewdly suspected that they had played the same

-trick on her as on Cheyne. In all probability they had told her that

-Cheyne had met with an accident and was conscious and asking for her.

-Once in the cab it would have been child’s play for a powerful man

-like Sime to have chloroformed her, and having got her to the house,

-they could easily have kept her helpless and semi-conscious by means

-of drugs.

-

-French returned on foot to the Yard, thinking over the affair as he

-walked. It certainly had a sinister look. These men were very much in

-earnest. They had not hesitated to resort to murder in the case of

-Cheyne—it was through, to them, an absolutely unforeseen accident that

-he escaped—and French felt he would not give much for Joan Merrill’s

-chances.

-

-When he reached his office he found that a piece of news had just come

-in. A constable who had been on point duty at the intersection of

-South and Mitchem Streets, near Waterloo Station, had noticed about 2

-P.M. on the day of the disappearance of the gang, a yellow motorcar

-pass close beside him and turn into Hackworth’s garage, a small

-establishment in the latter street. Though he had not observed the

-vehicle with more than the ordinary attention such a man will give to

-the passing traffic, his recollection both of the car and driver led

-him to the belief that they were those referred to in the Yard

-circular. The constable was waiting to see French, and made his report

-with diffidence, saying that though he thought he was right, he might

-easily be mistaken.

-

-“Quite right to let me know anyhow, Wilson,” French said heartily. “If

-you’ve seen Blessington’s car it may give us a valuable clue, and if

-you’re mistaken, there’s no harm done. We’ve nothing to lose by

-following it up.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s past my dinner hour,

-but I’ll take a taxi and go round to this garage on my way home. You’d

-better come along.”

-

-Ten minutes later the two men reached Hackworth’s establishment, and

-pushing open the door of the tiny office, asked if the manager was

-about.

-

-“I’m John Hackworth. Yes, sir?” said a stout man in shabby gray

-tweeds. “Want a car?”

-

-“I want a word with you, Mr. Hackworth,” said French pleasantly. “Just

-a small matter of private business.”

-

-Hackworth nodded, and indicated a farther door.

-

-“In here,” he invited, and when French and the constable had taken the

-two chairs the room contained, he briskly repeated: “Yes, sir?”

-

-At this hint not to waste valuable time, French promptly introduced

-himself and propounded his question. Mr. Hackworth looked impressed.

-

-“You don’t tell me that gent was a wrong ’un?” he said anxiously, then

-another idea seeming to strike him, he continued: “Of course it don’t

-matter to me in a way, for I’ve got the car. I’ll tell you about it.”

-

-French produced his photograph of Blessington.

-

-“Tell me first if that’s the man,” he suggested.

-

-Mr. Hackworth pushed the card up to the electric bulb. “It’s him,” he

-declared. “It’s him and no mistake. He walked in here yesterday—no,

-the day before—about eleven and asked to see the boss. ‘I’ve got a

-car,’ he said when I went forward, ‘and there’s something wrong with

-the engine. Sometimes it goes all right and sometimes it doesn’t.

-Maybe,’ he said, ‘you’ll start it up and it’ll run a mile or two well

-enough, then it begins to miss, and the speed drops perhaps to eight

-or ten miles. I don’t know what’s wrong.’

-

-“‘What about your petrol feed?’ I said. ‘Sounds like your carburetor,

-or maybe your strainer or one of your pipes choked.’

-

-“‘I thought it might be that,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t find anything

-wrong. However, I want you to look over it, that is, if you can lend

-me a car while you’re doing it.’

-

-“Well, sir, I needn’t go into all the details, and to make a long

-story short, I agreed to overhaul the car and to lend him an old

-Napier while I was at it. He went away, and same day about two or

-before it he came back with his car, a yellow Armstrong Siddeley. It

-seemed to be all right then, but he said that that was just the

-trouble—it might be all right now and it would be all wrong within a

-minute’s time. So I gave him the Napier—it was a done machine, worth

-very little, but would go all right, you understand. He asked me how

-long I would take, and I said I’d have it for him next day, that was

-yesterday. He had three or four suitcases with him and he transferred

-these across. Then he got into the Napier and drove away, and that was

-the last I saw of him.”

-

-“And what was wrong with his own car?”

-

-“There, sir, you have me beat. Nothing! Or nothing anyhow that I could

-find.”

-

-“Was the Napier a four-seater?”

-

-“Five. Three behind and two in front.”

-

-“A coach body?”

-

-“No, but with a good canvas cover, and he put it up, too, before

-starting.”

-

-“Raining?”

-

-“Neither raining nor like rain: nor no wind neither.”

-

-“How long was he here altogether?”

-

-“Not more than five or six minutes. He left just as soon as he could

-change the cars.”

-

-French, having put a few more questions, got the proprietor to write

-out a detailed description of the Napier. Next, he begged the use of

-the garage telephone and repeated the description to the Yard, asking

-that it should be circulated among the force without delay. Finally he

-thanked the stout Mr. Hackworth for his help, and with Constable

-Wilson left the establishment.

-

-“Now, Wilson,” he said, “you’ve done a good day’s work. I’m pleased

-with you. You may get along home, and if I want anything more I’ll let

-you know in the morning.”

-

-But though it was so late, French did not follow his subordinate’s

-example. Instead he stood on the sidewalk outside the garage, thinking

-hard.

-

-As to the nature of the defect in the engine of the yellow car he had

-no doubt. What was wrong with it was just what Hackworth had said was

-wrong with it—nothing whatever. French could see that the whole

-episode was simply a plan on Blessington’s part to change the car and

-thus cover up his traces. The yellow Armstrong-Siddeley was known to

-be his by many persons, and Blessington wanted one which, as he would

-believe, could not be traced. He would have seen from the papers that

-Cheyne had escaped the fate prepared for him, and he would certainly

-suspect that the outraged young man would put his knowledge at the

-disposal of the police. Therefore the yellow car was a danger and

-another must be procured in its place. The trick was obvious, and

-French had heard of something like it before.

-

-But though the main part of the scheme was clear to French, the

-details were not. From the statement of Mrs. Sproule, the invalid of

-Colton Street, the yellow car had left Sime’s house at about 1:45.

-According to this Hackworth it had reached the garage at a minute or

-so before two. Now, from Colton Street to the garage was a ten or

-twelve minutes’ drive, therefore Blessington must have gone

-practically direct. Moreover, when he left Colton Street Joan Merrill

-and the other members of the gang were in the car, but when he reached

-the garage he was alone. Where had the others dismounted?

-

-Another question suggested itself to French, and he thought that if he

-could answer it he would probably be able to answer the first as well.

-Why did Blessington select this particular garage? He did not know

-this Hackworth—the man had said he had never seen Blessington before.

-Why then this particular establishment rather than one of the scores

-nearer Sime’s dwelling?

-

-For some minutes French puzzled over this point, and then a probable

-explanation struck him. There, just a hundred yards or more away, was

-a place admirably suited for dropping his passengers and picking them

-up again—Waterloo Station. What more natural for Blessington than to

-pull up at the departure side with the yellow Armstrong-Siddeley and

-set them down? What more commonplace for him than to pick them up at

-the arrival side with the black Napier? While he was changing the

-cars, they could enter, mingle with the crowds of passengers, work

-their way across the station and be waiting for him as if they had

-just arrived by train.

-

-Late as it was, French returned to the Yard and put a good man on to

-make inquiries at Waterloo in the hope of proving his theory. Then,

-tired and very hungry, he went home.

-

-But when he had finished supper and, ensconced in his armchair with a

-cigar, had looked through the evening paper, interest in the case

-reasserted itself, and he determined that he would have a look at the

-scrap of paper which he had found in the pocket of one of Dangle’s

-waistcoats.

-

-As has been said, it was a list or memorandum of certain articles,

-written on the back of part of an old hotel bill. French reread the

-items with something as nearly approaching bewilderment as a staid

-inspector of the Yard can properly admit. Peaches, safety matches, the

-Forsyte Saga, pencil, fountain pen ink, and a sou’wester! What in the

-name of goodness could anyone want with such a heterogeneous

-collection? And the quantities! Three dozen tins of peaches, and six

-dozen boxes of matches! Enough to do a small expeditionary force,

-French thought whimsically, though he did not see an expeditionary

-force requiring the works of John Galsworthy, ink, and pencils.

-

-And yet was this idea so absurd? Did not these articles, in point of

-fact, suggest an expedition? Peaches, matches, pencils, and ink—all

-these articles were commonplace and universally obtainable. Did the

-fact that a quantity were required not mean that Dangle or his friends

-were to be cut off for some considerable time from the ordinary

-sources of supply? It certainly looked like it. And as he thought over

-the other articles, he saw that they too were not inconsistent with

-the same idea. The Forsyte Saga was distinguished from most novels in

-a peculiar and indeed a suggestive manner. It consisted of a number of

-novels, each full length or more than full length, but the point of

-interest was that the entire collection was published on thin paper in

-this one volume. Where could one get a greater mass of reading matter

-in a smaller bulk: in other words, where could one find a more

-suitable work of fiction to carry with one on an expedition?

-

-The sou’wester also fitted from this point of view into the scheme of

-things, but it added a distinctive suggestion all its own: that of the

-sea. French’s thoughts turned towards a voyage. But it could not be an

-ordinary voyage in a well-appointed liner, where peaches and matches

-and novels would be as plentiful as in the heart of London. Nor did it

-seem likely that it could be a trip in the _Enid_. Such a craft could

-not remain out of touch with land for so long a period as these stores

-seemed to postulate. French could not think of anything that seemed

-exactly to meet the case, though he registered the idea of an

-expedition as one to be kept in view.

-

-Leaving the point for the time being, he turned over the paper and

-began to examine its other side.

-

-It formed the middle portion of an old hotel bill, the top and bottom

-having been torn off. The items indicated a stay of one night only

-being merely for bed and breakfast. The name of the hotel had been

-torn off with the bill head, and also all but a few letters of the

-green rubber receipt stamp at the bottom. French felt that if he could

-only ascertain the identity of the hotel it might afford him a

-valuable clue, and he settled down to study it in as close detail as

-possible.

-

-[Illustration: A torn scrap of paper, showing part of a bill for

-“1 chambre” and “1 petit déjeuner”, totaling to 28 50. The ends of a

-few other words are visible at the edges of the paper.]

-

-He recalled two statements that Speedwell had made about Dangle.

-First, the melancholy detective had said that commencing about a

-fortnight after the acquisition by the gang of Price’s letter and the

-tracing, Dangle had begun paying frequent visits to the Continent or

-Ireland, and secondly, that in a tube lift he had overheard Dangle say

-that he was crossing on a given night, but would be back the next.

-French thought he might take it for granted that this bill had been

-incurred on one of these trips. He wondered if Dangle had always

-visited the same place, as, if so, the bill would refer to an hotel

-near enough to England to be visited in one day. Of none of this was

-there any evidence, but French believed that it was sufficiently

-probable to be taken as a working hypothesis. If it led nowhere, he

-could try something else.

-

-Assuming then that one could cross to the place in one night and

-return the next, it was obvious that it must be comparatively close to

-England, and, the language on the bill being French, it must be in

-France or Belgium. He took an atlas and a Continental Bradshaw, and

-began to look out the area over which this condition obtained. Soon he

-saw that while the whole of Belgium and the northwest of France,

-bounded by a rough line drawn through Chalons, Nancy, Dijon,

-Angoulême, Chartres, and Brest, were within the _possible_ limit,

-giving a reasonable time in which to transact business, it was more

-than likely the place did not lie east of Brussels and Paris.

-

-He turned back to the torn bill. Could he learn nothing from it?

-

-First, as to the charges. With the franc standing at eighty, twenty

-four francs seemed plenty for a single room, though it was by no means

-exorbitant. It and the 4.50 fr. for _petit déjeuner_ suggested a

-fairly good hotel—probably what might be termed good second-class—not

-one of the great hotels de luxe like the Savoy in London or the

-Crillon or Claridge’s in Paris, but one that ordinary people

-patronized, and which would be well known in its own town.

-

-Of all the information available, the most promising line of research

-seemed that of the rubber stamp, and to that French now turned his

-attention. The three lines read:

-

-    . . . uit

-    . . . lon,

-    . . . S.

-

-French thought he had something that might help here. He rose, crossed

-the room, and after searching in his letter file, produced three or

-four papers. These were hotel bills he had incurred in France and

-Switzerland when he visited those countries in search of the murderer

-of Charles Gething of the firm of Duke & Peabody, and he had brought

-them home with him in the hope that some day he might return as a

-holiday-maker to these same hotels. Now perhaps they would be of use

-in another way.

-

-He spread them out and examined their receipt stamps. From their

-analogy the . . . uit on his fragment obviously stood for the words

-“Pour acquit,” anglice: “paid.” The middle line ending in . . . lon

-was unquestionably the name of the hotel, and the third, ending in S,

-that of its town. And here again was a suggestion as to the size of

-the establishment. A street was not included in the address. It must

-therefore be well known in its town.

-

-It seemed to him moreover that this fact also conveyed a suggestion as

-to the size of the town. If the latter were Paris or Brussels—as he

-had thought not unlikely as both these names ended in s—a street

-address would almost certainly have been given. The names of the hotel

-and town alone pointed to a town of the same standing as the hotel

-itself—a large town to have so important an hotel, but not a capital

-city. In other words, there was a certain probability the hotel was

-situated in a large town comparatively near the English Channel, Paris

-and Brussels being excepted.

-

-As French sat pondering over the affair, he saw suddenly that further

-information was obtainable from the fact that the lettering on a

-rubber stamp is always done symmetrically. Once more rising, he found

-a small piece of tracing paper, and placing this over the mutilated

-receipt stamp, he began to print in the missing letters of the first

-line. His printing was not very good, but he did not mind that. All he

-wanted was to get the spacing of the letters correct, and to this end

-he took a lot of trouble. He searched through the advertisements in

-several papers until he found some type of the same kind as that of

-the . . . uit, and by carefully measuring the other letters he at last

-satisfied himself as to just where the P of Pour acquit would stand.

-This, he hoped, would give him the number of letters in the names of

-both the hotel and the town. Drawing a line down at right angles to

-the t of acquit, he found that the n of . . . lon projected slightly

-over a quarter inch farther along, while the S of the town was almost

-directly beneath. By drawing another line down from the P of Pour, and

-measuring these same distances from it, he found the lengths of the

-names of hotel and town, and by further careful examination and

-spacing of type, he reached definite conclusions. The name of the

-hotel, including the word hotel, contained from eighteen to twenty

-letters and that of the town six, more or less according to whether

-letters like I or W predominated.

-

-He was pleased with his progress. Starting from nothing he had evolved

-the conception of an important hotel—the something-lon, in a large

-town situated in France or Belgium, and comparatively near the English

-Channel, the name of the town consisting of five, six, or seven

-letters of which the last one was S. Surely, he thought, such an hotel

-would not be hard to find.

-

-If he was correct as to the size of the town, it was one which would

-be marked on a fairly small scale map, and taking his atlas, he began

-to make a list of all those which seemed to meet the case. He soon saw

-there were a number—Calais, Amiens, Beauvais, Étaples, Arras,

-Soissons, Troyes, Ypres, Bruges, Roulers, and Malines.

-

-He had by this time become so excited over his quest that in spite of

-the hour—it was long past his bedtime—he telephoned to the Yard to

-send him Baedeker’s Guides to Northern France and Belgium, and when

-these came he began eagerly looking up the hotels in each of the towns

-on his list. For a considerable time he worked on without result, then

-suddenly he laughed from sheer delight.

-

-He had reached Bruges, and there, third on the list, was “Grand Hôtel

-du Sablon!” Moreover, this name exactly filled the required space.

-

-“Got it in one,” he chuckled, feeling immensely pleased with himself.

-

-But French, if sometimes an enthusiastic optimist and again a down and

-out pessimist, was at all times thorough. He did not stop at Bruges.

-He worked all the way through the list, and it was not until he had

-satisfied himself that no other hotel fulfilling the conditions

-existed in any of the other towns, that he felt himself satisfied. It

-was true there was an Hotel du Carillon in Malines, but this name was

-obviously too short for the space.

-

-As he went jubilantly to bed, the vision of a trip to the historic

-city of Bruges bulked large in his imagination.

-

-

-

-Chapter XVI

-

-A Tale of Two Cities

-

-Next morning French had an interview with his chief at the Yard at

-which he produced the torn hotel bill, and having demonstrated the

-methods by which he had come to identify it with the Grand Hôtel du

-Sablon in Bruges, suggested that a visit there might be desirable. To

-his secret relief Chief Inspector Mitchell took the same view, and it

-was arranged that he should cross as soon as he could get away.

-

-On his return to his room he found Cheyne waiting for him. The young

-man seemed to have aged by years since his frenzied appeal to the

-Yard, and his anxious face and distrait manner bore testimony to the

-mental stress through which he was passing. Eagerly he inquired for

-news.

-

-“None so far, I’m sorry to say,” French answered, “except that we have

-found that Miss Merrill did return to her rooms that night,” and he

-told what he had learned of Joan’s movements, as well as of his visit

-to Hackworth’s garage, and of Blessington’s exchange of cars. But of

-Bruges and the hotel bill he said nothing. Cheyne, he felt sure, would

-have begged to be allowed to accompany him to Belgium, and this he did

-not want. But in his kindly way he talked sympathetically to the young

-man reiterating his promise to let him know directly anything of

-importance was learned.

-

-Cheyne having reluctantly taken his leave, French turned to routine

-business, which had got sadly behind during the last few days. At this

-he worked all the morning, but on his return from lunch he found that

-further news had come in.

-

-Sergeant Burnett, the man he had put on the Waterloo Station job, was

-waiting for him, and reported success in his mission. He had, he said,

-spent the whole of the day from early morning at the station, and at

-last he had obtained what he wanted. A taximan on a nearby stand had

-been called to the footpath at the arrival side of the station at

-about 2:00 P.M. He had drawn up behind an old black car, which he had

-thought was a Napier. His own fare, a lady, kept him waiting for a few

-seconds while she took a somewhat leisurely farewell of the gentleman

-who was seeing her off, and during this time he had idly watched the

-vehicle in front. He had seen an invalid lady in a sable colored fur

-coat being helped in. There was a second lady with her, and a tall

-man. The three got in, and the car moved off at the same time as his

-own. Sergeant Burnett had questioned the man on the appearance of the

-travelers, and was pretty certain that they were Joan, Susan, and

-Sime. Dangle, so far as he could learn, was not with them.

-

-French felt the sudden thrill of the artist who has just caught the

-elusive effect of light which he wanted, as he reflected how sound had

-been his deduction. He had considered it likely that these people

-would use Waterloo Station to effect the change of cars, and now it

-seemed that they had done so. Nothing like a bit of imagination, he

-thought, as he good-naturedly complimented the sergeant on his powers,

-and dismissed him.

-

-Having too much to see to at the Yard to catch the 2:00 P.M. from

-Victoria for Ostend, he rang up and engaged a berth on the

-Harwich-Zeebrugge boat, and that night at 8:40 P.M. he left Liverpool

-Street for Belgium.

-

-Apart from his actual business, he was looking forward with

-considerable keenness to the trip. Foreign travel had become perhaps

-his greatest pleasure, and he had never yet been in Belgium. Moreover

-he had always heard Bruges mentioned as the paradise of artists, and

-in a rather shamefaced way he admitted an interest in and appreciation

-of art. He had determined that if at all possible he would snatch

-enough time to see at least the more interesting parts of the old

-town.

-

-They left the Parkeston Quay at 10:30, and by 6 next morning French

-was on deck. He was anxious to miss no possible sight of the approach

-of Zeebrugge. He had read with a thrilled and breathless interest the

-story of what was perhaps the greatest naval exploit of all time—as,

-indeed, who has not?—and as the long, low line of the famous mole

-loomed up rather starboard of straight ahead, his heart beat faster

-and a lump came in his throat. There, away to the right, round the

-curve of the long pier, must have been where _Vindictive_ boarded,

-where in an inferno of fire her crew reached with their scaling

-ladders the top of the great sea wall, and climbing down on the

-inside, joined a hand-to-hand fight with the German defenders. And

-here, at the left hand end of the huge semicircle, was the lighthouse,

-which he was now rounding as _Thetis_, _Intrepid_, and _Iphigenia_

-rounded it on that historic night. He tried to picture the scene. The

-screen of smoke to sea, which baffled the searchlights of the

-defenders and from which mysterious and unexpected craft emerged at

-intervals, the flashing lights as guns were fired and shells burst

-over the mole, the sea, and the low-lying sand dunes of the coast

-behind. The din of hell in the air, fire, smoke, explosion, and

-death—and those three ships passing on; _Thetis_ a wreck, struck and

-fiercely burning, forced aside by the destruction of her gear, but

-lighting her fellows straight to their goal—the mouth of the canal

-which led to the submarine base at Bruges. French crossed the deck and

-gazed at the spot with its swing bridge and stone side walls, as he

-thought how, had the desperate venture failed, history might have been

-changed and at that touch and go period of the war the Central Powers

-might have triumphed. It was with renewed pride and wonder in the men

-who conceived and carried out the wonderful enterprise that he crossed

-back over the deck and set himself to the business of landing.

-

-A short run past the sandhills at the coast and across the flat

-Belgian fields brought the spires of Bruges into view, and slowly

-rounding a sharp curve through the gardens of the houses in the

-suburbs, they joined the main line from Ostend, and a few minutes

-later entered the station. Emerging on to the wide boulevard in front,

-French’s eyes fell on a bus bearing the legend “Grand Hôtel du

-Sablon,” and getting in, he was driven across the boulevard and a

-short way up a long, rather narrow and winding street, between houses

-some of which seemed to have stood unaltered—and doubtless had—for six

-hundred years, when Bruges, three times its present size, was the

-chief trading city of the Hanseatic League. As he turned into the

-hotel, chimes rang out—from the famous belfry, the porter told

-him—tinkling, high-pitched bells and silvery, if a trifle thin in the

-clear morning air.

-

-He called for some breakfast, and as he was consuming it the

-anticipated delights of sight-seeing receded, and interest in the

-movements of James Dangle became once more paramount. He was proud of

-his solution of the problem of the torn hotel bill, and not for a

-moment had a doubt of the correctness of that solution entered his

-head.

-

-It came upon him therefore as a devastating shock when the courteous

-manager of the hotel, with whom he had asked an interview, assured him

-not only that no such person as the original of the photograph he had

-presented had ever visited his establishment, but that the fragment of

-the bill was not his.

-

-To French it seemed as if the bottom had fallen out of his world. He

-had been so sure of his ground; all his reasoning about the stamp, the

-size of the hotel and town and lengths of their names had seemed so

-convincing and unassailable. And the names Grand Hôtel du Sablon and

-Bruges had worked in so well! More important still, no other hotel

-seemed to fill the bill. French felt cast down to the lowest depths of

-despair, and for a time he could only stare speechlessly at the

-manager.

-

-At last he smiled rather ruefully.

-

-“That’s rather a blow,” he confessed. “I was pretty sure of my ground.

-Indeed, so sure was I, that if I might without offense, I should like

-to ask you again if there is no possibility that the man might have

-been here, say, during your absence.”

-

-The manager was sympathetic. He brought French a sample of his bill,

-stamped with his rubber receipt stamp, and French saw at once their

-dissimilarity with those he had been studying. Moreover, the manager

-assured him that neither had been altered for several years.

-

-So he was no further on! French lit a cigar, and retiring to a

-deserted corner of the salon, sat down to think the thing out.

-

-What was he to do next? Was he to return to London by the next boat,

-giving up the search and admitting defeat, or was there any possible

-alternative? He set his teeth as he swore great oaths that nothing

-short of the direct need would lead him to abandon his efforts until

-he had found the hotel, and learned Dangle’s secret.

-

-But heroics were all very well: what, in point of fact was he to do?

-He sat considering the problem for an hour, and at the end of that

-time he had decided to go to Brussels, borrow or buy a Belgian hotel

-guide, and go through it page by page until he found what he wanted.

-If none of the hotels given suited, he would go on to Paris and try a

-similar experiment.

-

-This decision he reached only after long consideration, not because it

-was not obvious—it had instantly occurred to him—but because he was

-convinced that the methods he had already tried had completely covered

-the ground. He had proved that there was no hotel whose name ended in

-. . . lon in a fair-sized town whose name ended in . . . s in all the

-district in question, other than the Grand Hôtel du Sablon at Bruges.

-There still remained, however, the chance that it might be a southern

-French or Swiss hotel, and he saw that he would have to make sure of

-this before returning to London.

-

-Still buried in thought, he walked slowly back to the station to look

-up trains to Brussels. The fact that he was in the most interesting

-town in Belgium no longer stirred his pulse. His disappointment and

-anxiety about his case drove all irrelevant matters from his mind, and

-he felt that all he wanted now was to be at work again to retrieve his

-error.

-

-He reached the station, and began searching the huge timetable boards

-for the train he wanted. He was interested to notice that the tables

-were published in two languages, French and what he thought at first

-was Dutch, but concluded later must be Flemish. Idly he compared the

-different spelling of the names of the towns. Brugge and Bruges, Gent

-and Gand, Brussel and Bruxelles, Oostende and Ostende, and then

-suddenly he came up as it were all standing, and a sudden wave of

-excitement passed over him as he stood regarding another pair of

-names. Antwerpen and Anvers! Anvers! A six lettered town ending in s!

-He cursed himself for his stupidity. He had always thought of the

-place as Antwerp, but he ought to have known its French name. Anvers!

-Once more he was alert and full of eager optimism. Had he got it at

-last?

-

-He passed through on to the platform, and making for a door headed

-“Chef de Gare,” asked for the stationmaster. There, after a moment’s

-delay, he was shown into the presence of an imposing individual in

-gold lace, who, however, was not too important to listen to him

-carefully and reply courteously in somewhat halting English. Monsieur

-wished to know if there was an hotel whose name ended in . . . lon in

-Antwerp? He could not recall one off hand, but he would look up the

-advertisements in his guides and tourist programs. Ah, what was this?

-The Grand Hôtel du Carillon. Was that what monsieur required?

-

-A name of twenty letters—which would exactly fill the space on the

-receipt stamp! It certainly was what monsieur required! The very idea

-raised monsieur to an exalted pitch of delighted enthusiasm. The

-stationmaster was gratified at the reception of his information.

-

-“I haf been at the ’otel myself,” he volunteered. “It is small, but

-vair’ goot. It is in the Place Verte, near to the Cathedral. Does

-monsieur know Antwerp?”

-

-Monsieur did not, but he expressed the pleasure it would give him to

-make its acquaintance, and thanking the polite official he returned to

-the timetables to look up the trains thither.

-

-His most direct way, it appeared, was through Ghent and Termonde, but

-on working out the services he found he could get quicker trains via

-Brussels. He therefore booked by that route, and at 11:51 he climbed

-into a great through express from Ostend to Brussels, Aix-la-Chapelle,

-Strasbourg, and, it seemed to him, the whole of the rest of Europe. An

-hour and a half’s run brought him into Brussels-Nord, and from there

-he wandered out into the Place Rogier for lunch. Then returning to the

-station he took an express for Antwerp, arriving in the central

-terminus of that city a few minutes after three o’clock.

-

-He had bought a map of Antwerp at a bookstall in Brussels, from which

-he had learned that the Place Verte was nearly a mile away in the

-direction of the river. His traveling impedimenta consisting of a

-handbag only, he determined to walk, and emerging from the great

-marble hall of the station, he passed down the busy Avenue de Keyser,

-and along the Place de Meir into the older part of the town. As he

-walked he was immensely impressed by the fine wide streets, the ornate

-buildings, and the excellence of the shops. Everywhere were evidences

-of wealth and prosperity, and as he turned into the Place Verte, and

-looked across at the huge bulk of the Cathedral with its soaring

-spire, he felt that here was an artistic treasure of which any city

-might well be proud.

-

-The Grand Hôtel du Carillon was an old, quaint looking building

-looking out over the Place Verte. French, entering, called for a bock

-in the restaurant, and after he had finished, asked to see the

-manager. A moment later a small, stout man with a humorous eye

-appeared, bowed low, and said that he was M. Marquet, the proprietor.

-

-“A word with you in private, M. Marquet,” French requested, when they

-had exchanged confidences on the weather. “Won’t you take something

-with me?”

-

-The proprietor signified his willingness in excellent English, and

-when further drinks had been brought, and French had satisfied himself

-that they were alone, he went on:

-

-“I am a detective officer from the London police, and I am trying to

-trace an Englishman called Dangle. I have reason to suppose he stayed

-at this hotel recently. There is his photograph. Can you help me at

-all?”

-

-At the name Dangle, M. Marquet had nodded, and when he saw the

-photograph he beamed and his whole body became affirmation

-personified. But certainly, he knew M. Dangle. For several weeks—he

-could not say how many, but he could ascertain from his records—for

-several weeks M. Dangle had been his guest at intervals. Sometimes he

-had stayed one night, sometimes two, sometimes three. Yes, he was

-usually alone, but not always. On three or four occasions he had been

-accompanied by another gentleman—a tall, well-built, clean-shaven man,

-and once a third man had come, a short man with a fair mustache. Yes,

-that was the photograph of the short man, M.—? Yes; Blessington. The

-other man’s name he could not remember, but it would appear in the

-register: Sile, Site—something like that. Yes, Sime: that was it. No,

-he was afraid he knew nothing about these gentlemen or their business,

-but he would be glad to do everything in his power to assist monsieur.

-

-French, his enthusiasm and delight remaining at fever heat, was

-suitably grateful. He wished just to ask M. Marquet a few more

-questions. He would like to know the last occasion on which M. Dangle

-had stayed.

-

-“Why,” M. Marquet exclaimed, “he just left yesterday. He came here,

-let me see, on Tuesday night quite late, indeed it was nearly one on

-Wednesday morning when he arrived. He came, he said, off the English

-boat train which arrives here about midnight. He stayed here two

-days—till yesterday, Thursday. He left yesterday shortly after

-déjeuner.”

-

-“He was alone?”

-

-“Yes, monsieur. This time he was alone.”

-

-French, metaphorically speaking, hugged himself on hearing this news.

-Through his brilliant work with the torn bill, he had added one more

-fine achievement to the long list of his successes. He could not but

-believe that the most doubtful and difficult step of the investigation

-had now been accomplished. With a trail only twenty four hours old, he

-should surely be able to put his hands on Dangle with but little

-delay. Moreover, from the fact that so many visits had been paid to

-Antwerp it looked as if the secret of the gang was hidden in the city.

-Greatly reassured, he proceeded to acquire details.

-

-He began by obtaining from M. Marquet’s records lists of the visits of

-the three men, and that gentleman’s identification of the torn bill.

-Also he pressed him as to whether he could not remember any questions

-or conversations of the trio which might give him a hint as to their

-business, but without success. He saw and made a detailed search of

-the room Dangle had occupied during his last visit, but here again

-with no result. Dangle, M. Marquet said, had been out all day on the

-Wednesday, the day after his arrival, but on Thursday he had remained

-in the hotel until his departure about 2:00 P.M. M. Marquet had not

-seen him leave, but he had sent the waiter for his bill after

-déjeuner, and the proprietor believed he had gone a little later.

-Possibly the porter could give more information on the point.

-

-The porter was sent for and questioned. He knew M. Dangle well and

-recognized his photograph. He had been present in the hall when the

-gentleman left on the previous day, shortly before two o’clock. M.

-Dangle had walked out of the hotel with his suitcase in his hand,

-declining the porter’s offer to carry it for him or call a taxi. The

-trams, however, passed the door, and the porter had assumed M. Dangle

-intended to travel by that means. No, he had not noticed the direction

-he took. There was a “stillstand” or tramway halt close by. Dangle had

-not talked to the porter further than to wish him good-day when he met

-him. He had not asked questions, or given any hint of his business in

-the town.

-

-Following his usual procedure under such circumstances, French next

-asked for interviews with all those of the staff who had come in any

-way in contract with his quarry, but in spite of his most persistent

-efforts he could not extract a single item of information as to the

-man’s business or movements.

-

-Baffled and weary from his journey, French took his hat and went out

-in the hope that a walk through the streets of the fine old city would

-clear his brain and bring him the inspiration he needed. Crossing

-beneath the trees of the Place Verte, he passed round the cathedral to

-the small square from which he could look up at the huge bulk of the

-west front, with its two unequal towers, one a climbing marvel of

-decoration, “lace in stone,” the other unfinished, and topped with a

-small and evidently temporary spire. Then, promising himself a look

-round the interior before leaving the town, he regained the tramline

-from the Place Verte, and following it westwards, in two or three

-minutes came out on the great terraces lining the banks of the river.

-

-The first sight of the Scheldt was one which French felt he would not

-soon forget. Well on to half a mile wide, it bore away in both

-directions like a great highway leading from this little Belgium to

-the uttermost parts of the earth. Large ships lay at anchor in it, as

-well as clustering along the wharves to the south. This river frontage

-of wharves and sheds and cranes and great steamers extended as far as

-the eye could reach; he had read that it was three and a half miles

-long. And that excluded the huge docks for which the town was famous.

-As he strolled along he became profoundly impressed, not only with the

-size of the place, but more particularly with the attention which had

-been given to its artistic side. In spite of all this commercial

-activity the city did not look sordid. Thought had been given to its

-design; one might almost say loving care. Why, these very terraces on

-which he was walking, with their cafés and their splendid view of the

-river, were formed on neither more nor less than the vast roofs of the

-dock sheds. French, who knew most of the English ports, felt his

-amazement grow at every step.

-

-He followed the quays right across the town till he came to the Gare

-du Sud, then turning away from the river, he found himself in the

-Avenue du Sud. From this he worked back along the line of great

-avenues which had replaced the earlier fortifications, until

-eventually, nearly three hours after he had started, he once again

-turned into the Place Verte, and reached the Carillon.

-

-He ordered a room for the night, and some strong tea, after which he

-sat on in his secluded corner of the comfortable restaurant, and

-smoked a meditative cigar. His walk had done him good. His brain had

-cleared, and the weariness of the journey, and the chagrin of his

-deadlock had vanished. His thoughts returned to his problem, which he

-began to attack in the new.

-

-He puzzled over it for the best part of an hour, without making the

-slightest progress, and then he began to consider how far the ideas he

-had already arrived at fitted in with what he had since learned of

-Dangle’s movements.

-

-He had thought that the nature of the articles on Dangle’s list

-suggested a sea expedition. He remembered the delight with which, many

-years earlier, he had read _The Riddle of the Sands_, and he thought

-that had Dangle contemplated just such another cruise as that of the

-heroes of that fascinating book, he might well have got together the

-articles in question. But since these ideas had passed through his

-mind, French had learned the following fresh facts:

-

-1. From a fortnight after obtaining the tracing, Dangle had been

-paying frequent visits to Antwerp.

-

-2. He had on these occasions put up at the Carillon.

-

-3. His last visit had followed immediately on the failure to murder

-Cheyne, with its almost certain result of the calling in of Scotland

-Yard.

-

-4. He had on this last visit remained at the Carillon for two days,

-leaving about 2:00 P.M. on the Thursday, the previous day.

-

-5. He had carried his hand-bag from the hotel, without calling for a

-taxi.

-

-At first French could not see that these additional facts had any

-bearing on his theory, but as he continued turning them over in his

-mind, he realized that all but one might be interpreted as tending in

-the same direction.

-

-1. Dangle’s visits to Antwerp. Supposing Dangle had been planning some

-secret marine expedition, where, French asked himself, could he have

-found a more suitable base from which to make his arrangements?

-Antwerp was a seaport: moreover, it was a great seaport, large enough

-for a secret expedition to set sail from without attracting notice. It

-was a foreign port, away from the inquisitive notice of the British

-police, but, on the other hand, it was the nearest great port to

-London. If these considerations did not back up his theory, they at

-least did not conflict with it.

-

-2. Why had Dangle put up at the Carillon? The hotels near the station

-were the obvious ones for English visitors. Could it be because the

-Place Verte was close to the river and the shipping? This, French

-admitted to himself, sounded farfetched, and yet it might be the

-truth.

-

-3. The dispersal and disappearance of the gang immediately on the

-probability of its activities becoming known to the police looked

-suspiciously like a flight.

-

-4. Could it be that Dangle’s arrival in Antwerp was ahead of schedule,

-that is, the flight brought him there two days before the expedition

-was to start? Or could it be that on his arrival he immediately set to

-work to organize the departure, but was unable to complete his

-arrangements for two days? At least, it might be so.

-

-Lastly, had he carried his bag from the hotel for the same reason as

-he might have chosen the hotel: that he was going, not to the station,

-but the few hundred yards to the quays, thence to start on this

-maritime expedition? Again, it might be so.

-

-French was fully aware that the whole of these elaborate

-considerations had the actual stability of a house of cards. Each and

-every one of his deductions might be erroneous and the facts might be

-capable of an entirely different construction. Still, there was at

-least a suggestion that Dangle might have left Antwerp by water

-shortly after two o’clock on the previous day. It was the one

-constructive idea French could evolve, and he decided that in the

-absence of anything better he would try to follow it up.

-

-It was too late to do anything that night. After dinner, therefore, he

-had another walk, spent an hour in a cinema, and then went early to

-bed, so as to be fresh for his labors of the following day.

-

-

-

-Chapter XVII

-

-On the Flood Tide

-

-French was astir betimes next morning, and over his coffee and rolls

-and honey he laid his plans for the day. As to the next step of his

-investigation he had no doubt. He must begin by finding out what

-vessels had left the city after 2:00 P.M. on the previous Thursday.

-That done, he could go into the question of the passengers each

-carried, in the hope of learning that Dangle was among them.

-

-At the outset he was faced by the handicap of being a stranger in a

-strange land. If Antwerp had been an English port he would have known

-just where to get his information, but here he was unfamiliar with the

-ropes. He did not know if all sailings were published in any paper or

-available to the public at any office; moreover, his ignorance of both

-French and Flemish precluded his mixing with clerks or dock loafers

-from whom he might pick up information. Of course there were the

-Belgian police, but he did not wish to apply to them if he could carry

-out his job by himself.

-

-However, this part of his problem proved easier of solution than he

-had expected. Inquiries at the post office revealed the fact that

-there was a shipping agency in the Rue des Tanneurs, and soon he had

-reached the place, found a clerk who spoke English, and put his

-question.

-

-When French wished to be suave, as he usually did, he could, so to

-speak, have wheedled his best bone from a bulldog. Now, explaining in

-a friendly and confidential manner who he was and why he wanted the

-information, he begged the other’s good offices. The clerk, flattered

-at being thus courteously approached, showed a willingness to assist,

-with the result that in ten minutes French had the particulars he

-needed.

-

-He turned into a café, and calling for a bock, sat down to consider

-what he had learned. And of this the very first fact filled him with

-delight, as it seemed to fit in with the theory he had evolved.

-

-On Thursday it had been high water at 2:30 P.M. By 2:30 the dock gates

-had been opened, and it appeared that, taking advantage of this,

-several steamers had left shortly after that hour.

-

-This was distinctly encouraging, and French turned to the list of

-ships with a growing hope that the end of his investigation might be

-coming into sight. In all, eleven steamers had left the port on the

-day in question, between the hours of 2:00 and 6:00 P.M., the period

-he had included in his inquiry.

-

-There was first of all a Canadian Pacific liner, which had sailed from

-the quays at 3:00 P.M., and at 3:30 a small passenger boat had left

-for Oslo and Bergen. The remaining boats were tramps. There were four

-coasters, two for Newcastle, one for Goole, and one for Belfast, a

-6,000 tonner for Singapore and the Dutch Islands, another slightly

-smaller ship for Genoa and Spezia, and another for Boston, U.S.A. Then

-there was a big five-masted sailing ship, bound with a general cargo

-for Buenos Aires and the River Platte, and finally there was a small

-freighter in ballast for Casablanca.

-

-Of these eleven ships, the windjammer at once attracted French’s

-attention. Here was a vessel on which, if you took a passage, you

-might easily require three dozen tins of peaches before you reached

-your journey’s end. He determined to begin with this, taking the other

-ships in order according to the position of their offices. Fortunately

-in each case the clerk had given him the name of the owners or agents.

-

-His first call, therefore, was at an old-fashioned office in a small

-street close to the Steen Museum. There he saw M. Leblanc, the owner

-of the windjammer, and explained his business. But M. Leblanc could

-not help him. The old gentleman had never heard of Dangle nor had any

-one resembling his visitor’s photograph called or done any business

-with his firm. Moreover, no passengers had shipped on the windjammer,

-and the crew that had sailed was unchanged since the previous voyage.

-

-This was not encouraging, and French went on to the next item on his

-program, the headquarters of the small freighter which had sailed in

-ballast for Casablanca. She was owned by Messrs. Merkel & Lowenthal,

-whose office was farther down the Rue des Tanneurs, and five minutes

-later he had pushed open the door and was inquiring for the principal.

-

-This was a more modern establishment than that of M. Leblanc. Though

-small, the office ran to plate glass windows, teak furniture, polished

-brass fittings, and encaustic tiles, while the two typists he could

-envisage through the small inquiry window seemed unduly gorgeous as to

-raiment and pert as to demeanor.

-

-He was kept waiting for some minutes, then told that M. Merkel, the

-head of the business, was away, but that M. Lowenthal, the junior

-partner, would see him.

-

-His first glance told French that M. Lowenthal was a man to be

-watched. Seldom had he seen so many of the tell-tale signs of roguery

-concentrated in the features of one person. The junior partner had a

-mean, sly look, close-set, shifty eyes which would not meet French’s,

-and a large mouth with loose, fleshy lips. His manner was in accord

-with his appearance, now blustering, now almost fulsomely

-ingratiating. French took an instant dislike to him, and though he

-remained courteous as ever, he determined not to lay his cards on the

-table.

-

-“My name,” he began, “as you will have seen from my card, is French,

-and I carry out the business of a general agent in London. I am trying

-to obtain an interview with a friend, who has been staying here, off

-and on, for some time. I came on here from Brussels in the hope of

-seeing him, but he had just left. I was told that he had sailed with

-your ship, the _L’Escaut_, on Thursday afternoon, and if so I called

-to ask at which port I should be likely to get in touch with him. His

-name is Dangle.”

-

-While French spoke he watched the other narrowly, on his favorite

-theory that the involuntary replies to unexpected remarks—starts,

-changes of expression, sudden pallors—were more valuable than spoken

-answers.

-

-But M. Lowenthal betrayed no emotion other than a mild surprise.

-

-“That iss a very egstraordinary statement, sir,” he said in heavy

-guttural tones. “I do not really know who could haf given you such

-misleading information. Your friend’s name is quite unknown to me, and

-in any case we do not take passengers on our ships.”

-

-This seemed an entirely reasonable and proper reply, and yet to

-French’s highly developed instincts it did not ring true. However, he

-could do nothing more, and after a little further conversation

-containing not a few veiled inquiries, all of which, he noted, were

-skillfully parried by the other, he apologized for his mistake and

-withdrew.

-

-Though he was dissatisfied with the interview, he could only continue

-his program. He recognized that the secret might be located in Canada

-or the States, and that Dangle might have booked on the C.P.R. liner.

-Or he might have gone to Norway—indeed, for the matter of that, he

-might have signed on on any of the ships for any part of the world.

-

-But after a tedious morning of calls and interviews, French had to

-confess defeat. He could get no farther. At none of the offices at

-which he applied had he obtained the slightest helpful hint. It began

-to look as if he had been mistaken as to Dangle’s sea expedition, and

-if so, as he reminded himself with exasperation, he had no alternative

-theory to follow up.

-

-He strolled slowly along the pleasant, sunlit streets, as he reviewed

-his morning’s work. He was satisfied with all his interviews but the

-one. Everywhere save in M. Lowenthal’s office he felt he had been told

-the truth. But instinctively he distrusted the junior partner. That

-the man had lied to him he had no reason to suspect, but he had no

-doubt that he would do so if it suited his book.

-

-French felt that it was unsatisfactory to leave the matter in this

-state, and he presently thought of a simple subterfuge whereby it

-might be cleared up. It was almost the lunch hour, a suitable time for

-putting his project into operation. He hurried back to the Rue des

-Tanneurs, and turning into a café nearly opposite Messrs. Merkel &

-Lowenthal’s premises, ordered a bock and selected a seat from which he

-could observe the office door.

-

-He was only just in time. He had not taken his place five minutes when

-he saw M. Lowenthal emerge and walk off towards the center of the

-town. Three men clerks and the two rapid-looking typists followed, and

-lastly there appeared the person for whom he was waiting—the

-sharp-looking office boy who had attended to him earlier in the day.

-

-The boy turned off in the opposite direction to his principal—towards

-a quarter inhabited by laborers and artisans, and French, getting up

-from his table, slipped quietly out of the café and followed him.

-

-The chase continued for some ten minutes, when the quarry disappeared

-into a small house in a back street. French strolled up and down until

-some half an hour later the young fellow reappeared. As he approached

-French allowed a look of recognition and slight surprise to appear on

-his features.

-

-“Ah,” he said, pausing with a friendly smile, “you are the clerk who

-attended to me this morning in Messrs. Merkel & Lowenthal’s office,

-are you not? A piece of luck meeting you! I wonder if you could give

-me a piece of information? I forgot to ask it of M. Lowenthal this

-morning, and as I am in a hurry, it would be worth five francs to me

-not to have to go back to your office.”

-

-The youth’s eyes had brightened at the suggestion of financial

-dealings, and French felt he would learn all the other could tell him.

-He therefore continued without waiting for a reply.

-

-“The thing is this: I am joining my friend, M. Dangle, aboard the

-_L’Escaut_ at the first opportunity. It was arranged between us that

-one of us should take with him a couple of dozen of champagne. I want

-to know whether he took the stuff, or whether I am to. Can you help me

-at all?”

-

-The clerk’s English, though fairly good, was not quite equal to such a

-strain, and French had to repeat himself less idiomatically. But the

-boy grasped his meaning at last, and then at once dashed his hopes by

-saying he had never heard of any M. Dangle.

-

-“There he is,” French went on, producing his photograph. “You must

-have seen him scores of times.”

-

-And then French got the reward of his pertinacity. A look of

-recognition passed over the clerk’s features, and he made a gesture of

-comprehension.

-

-“_Mais oui, m’sieur_; yes, sir,” he answered quickly, “but that is not

-M. Danggalle. I know him: it is M. Charles.”

-

-“That’s right,” French returned, trying to keep the triumph out of his

-voice. “His name is Dangle Charles. I know him as M. Dangle, because

-he is one of four brothers at our works. But of course he would give

-his name here as M. Charles. But now, can you tell me anything about

-the champagne?”

-

-The clerk shook his head. He had not known upon what business M.

-Charles had called at the office.

-

-“Oh, well, it can’t be helped,” French declared. “I thought that

-perhaps when he was in with you last Wednesday you might have heard

-something about it. You don’t know what luggage he took aboard the

-_L’Escaut_?”

-

-The clerk had not been aware that M. Charles had embarked on the

-freighter, still less did he know of what his luggage had consisted.

-But as French talked on in his pleasant way, the following facts

-became apparent; first, that Dangle for some weeks past had been an

-occasional visitor at the shipping office; second, that on the

-previous Wednesday he had been closeted with the partners for the

-greater part of the day; third, that the _L’Escaut_ had evidently

-sailed on an expedition of considerable importance and length, for a

-vast deal of stores had gone aboard her, about which both partners had

-shown very keen anxiety; fourthly, that not only had M. Merkel, the

-senior partner, himself sailed on her, but it was likely that he

-intended to be away some time as M. Lowenthal had moved into his room,

-and lastly, that the _L’Escaut_ had come up from the firm’s yard

-during the Wednesday night and had anchored in the river off the Steen

-until she left about 3:00 P.M. on the Thursday.

-

-These admissions made it abundantly clear that French was once more on

-the right track, and he handed over his five francs with the feeling

-that he had made the cheapest bargain of his life.

-

-He had no doubt that Dangle had sailed with the senior partner on the

-tramp, but he felt he must make sure, and he walked slowly back

-towards the quays, turning over in his mind possible methods for

-settling the point. One inquiry seemed promising. If the ship had lain

-at anchor out in the river, and if Dangle had gone aboard her, he must

-have had a boat to do so. French wondered could he find that boat.

-

-He felt himself held up by the language difficulty. Up to the present

-he had had extraordinary luck in this respect, but then up to the

-present he had been interviewing educated persons whose business

-brought them in contact with foreigners. He doubted if he could make

-boatmen and loafers about the quays understand what he wanted.

-

-A trial convinced him that his fears were well founded, and he lost a

-solid hour in finding the Berlitz School and engaging a young linguist

-with a reputation for discretion. Then, accompanied by M. Jules

-Renard, he returned to the quays and set systematically to work. He

-began by inquiring where boats might be hired, and where there were

-steps at which ships’ boats might come alongside. Taking these in turn

-he asked had the boatmen taken a passenger out to the _L’Escaut_

-between 2:00 and 3:00 P.M. on the previous Thursday? Or had the

-loafer, stevedore, shunter, or constable, as the case might be,

-noticed if a boat had come ashore from the same vessel on the same

-date and at the same time?

-

-Though the work was easy it bade fair to be tedious, and therefore for

-more than one reason French felt a glow of satisfaction when at his

-fourth inquiry his question received an affirmative answer. A wizened

-old man, one of a small knot of longshoremen whom M. Renard addressed,

-separated himself from his companions and came forward. He said that

-he was a boatman, and that he had been hailed by a man—an Englishman,

-he believed—at the time stated, and had rowed him out to the ship.

-

-“Ask him if that’s the man,” French directed, producing Dangle’s

-photograph, though he felt there could be no doubt as to the reply.

-

-He was therefore immensely dashed when the boatman shook his head.

-This was not the man at all. The traveler was a short, rather stout

-man with a small fair mustache.

-

-French gasped. The description sounded familiar. Taking out

-Blessington’s photograph he passed it over.

-

-This time the boatman nodded. Yes, that was the man he had rowed out.

-He had no doubt of him whatever.

-

-This was unexpected but most welcome news, though as French thought

-over it, he saw that it was not so surprising after all. If Dangle was

-in it, why not Blessington, and for the matter of that, why not Sime

-also? In this case he wondered where Susan could be, and more acutely,

-what had been the fate of Joan Merrill. Possibly, he thought, his

-inquiries about Dangle would solve these questions also.

-

-Half an hour later he struck oil for the second time. Another boatman,

-a little further along the quays, had also rowed a passenger out to

-the _L’Escaut_, and this one, it appeared, was Dangle. But though

-French kept working steadily away, he could hear nothing of Sime.

-

-In the end it was a suggestion of Renard’s that put him once more on

-the trail. The interpreter proved an intelligent youth, and when he

-had grasped the point at issue, he stopped and pointed to the river.

-

-“You say, monsieur, that the sheep, she lie there, opposite the Musée

-Steen, is it not so? _Bon!_ We haf walked along all the quays near to

-that. Your friends would not haf hired boat from farther on—it is too

-far. You say, too, they come from England secretly, is it not? _Bon!_

-They would come to the other side.”

-

-French did not understand.

-

-“The other side?” he repeated questioningly.

-

-“But yes, monsieur, the other side.” The young fellow’s eyes flashed

-in his eagerness. “Over there, La Gare de Waes.” He pointed out across

-the great stream to its west bank.

-

-“I didn’t know there was a station across there,” French admitted.

-“Where does the line go to?”

-

-“Direct to Ghent. Your friends change trains at Ghent. It is a quiet

-railway. They come unseen.”

-

-“Good man,” said French heartily. “We’ll go and find out. How do you

-get to the blessed place?”

-

-M. Renard smiled delightedly.

-

-“Ah yes, monsieur. You weesh to cross? Is it not?” he cried. “This

-way. We take ferry from the Quai Van Dyck. It is near.”

-

-Half an hour later they had reached the Tête de Flandre—the low-lying

-western bank of the Scheldt. It bore a small but not unpicturesque

-cluster of old-fashioned houses, nestling about one of the historic

-Antwerp forts. Renard, now apparently quite as interested in the chase

-as French, led the way along the river bank from boatman to boatman,

-with the result that before very many minutes had passed French had

-obtained the information he wanted.

-

-It appeared that about 1:00 P.M. on the day in question, a strapping

-young boatman had noticed three strangers approaching from the

-direction of the Waes Station, a hundred yards or more distant. They

-consisted of a tall, clean-shaven man of something under middle age

-and two women, both young. One was tall and strongly made and dark as

-to hair and eyes, the other was slighter and with red gold hair. The

-smaller one seemed to be ill, and was stumbling along between the

-other two, each of whom supported her by an arm. None of the trio

-could speak French or Flemish, but they managed by signs to convey the

-information that they wanted to be put on board the _L’Escaut_, which

-was lying out in midstream. The man had rowed them out, and they had

-been received on board by an elderly gentleman with a dark beard.

-

-Further questions produced the information that the fair lady appeared

-to be seriously ill, though whether it was her mind or body that was

-affected, the boatman couldn’t be sure. She was able to walk, but

-would not do so unless urged on by the others. She had not spoken or

-taken any interest in the journey. She had not appeared even to look

-round her, but had sat gazing listlessly at nothing, with a vacant

-expression in her eyes. Her companions had had real difficulty in

-getting her up the short ladder on to the _L’Escaut’s_ deck.

-

-The news was rather unexpected to French. About Joan Merrill it was

-both disconcerting and reassuring; the former because he could not see

-that the gang had anything but a sinister reason for inveigling the

-young girl aboard the ship—probably she will fall overboard at night,

-he thought; the latter because she was at least still alive, or had

-been two days ago. It was quite evident that she was drugged, probably

-with morphine or something similar. It might, however, mean that while

-wishing Joan no harm, they were taking her with them on their

-expedition to insure her silence as to their movements.

-

-As French returned across the ferry, he kept on puzzling as to

-Lowenthal’s position. Could Lowenthal be arrested? Was he in league

-with the gang? If so, could he be held responsible for the abduction

-of Joan Merrill? French didn’t think the evidence would justify

-drastic measures. He had, as a matter of fact, no actual evidence

-against Lowenthal. Of his complicity he was satisfied, but he doubted

-if he could prove it.

-

-He got rid of the young interpreter, and strolling slowly along the

-quays, thought the matter out. No, he had not a enough case with which

-to go to the Belgian police. But he could do the next best thing. He

-could call on M. Lowenthal for the second time, and try to bluff an

-admission out of him.

-

-As he walked to the Rue des Tanneurs, he felt his prospects were not

-rosy. But at least he had no difficulty in obtaining his interview. M.

-Lowenthal seemed surprised to see him so soon again, but received him

-politely, and asked what he could do for him.

-

-“I want to ask you another question, M. Lowenthal, if you please,”

-French answered in his pleasantest manner, “and first I must tell you

-that the agency I hold is that of Detective Inspector at New Scotland

-Yard in London. My question is this: When you and M. Merkel entered

-into relations with Blessington, Sime, and the Dangles, did you know

-that they were dangerous criminals wanted by the English police?”

-

-In spite of the most evident efforts for self-control, Lowenthal was

-so much taken aback that he could not for some moments speak. His

-swarthy face turned a greenish hue and little drops of sweat showed on

-his forehead. To the other pleasant characteristics with which French

-had mentally endowed him, he now added that of coward, and his hopes

-of his bluff succeeding grew brighter. He sat waiting in silence for

-the other to recover himself, then said suavely:

-

-“After that, M. Lowenthal, you will see for yourself that you cannot

-plead ignorance of the affair. Let me advise you for your own sake to

-be open with me.”

-

-The man pulled himself together. He wiped his brow as he replied

-earnestly, but in somewhat shaky accents:

-

-“That I haf met Blessington, Sime, and Dangle I do not deny, though

-they were Merkel’s friends—not mine. But I do not know that they are

-criminal. Dangle, he called here and asked Merkel to take him on the

-next”—he hesitated for a word—“next work, next sail of the sheep.

-Merkel said that Dangle iss a writer—he writes books. He weeshed to

-see the sail to Casablanca to deescribe it in hiss book. Merkel said

-he would haf to pay fare, the firm could not afford it unless. Dangle

-agreed. Merkel was going himself, and Dangle suggested Sime and

-Blessington go also to make party—to play cards. Of a second Dangle I

-know nothing. They went secretly—I admit it—because the law forbids to

-take passengers for sail without a certificate. That is all of the

-affair.”

-

-Not a single word of this statement did French believe, but he saw

-that unless he could get some further information, or surprise this

-Lowenthal into some more damaging admission, he could not have him

-arrested. After all, the story hung together. Merkel might conceivably

-be playing his own game, and have pitched the yarn of the author out

-for copy to his partner. The contravention of the shipping laws would

-undoubtedly account for the secrecy with which the start was made.

-Certainly there was no evidence to bring before a jury.

-

-French proceeded to question the junior partner with considerable

-thoroughness, but he could not shake his statement. The only

-additional facts he learned were that the _L’Escaut_ was going to

-Casablanca on the order of the Moroccan Government to load up a cargo

-of agricultural samples for the Italian market, and that M. Merkel was

-accompanying it simply as a holiday trip.

-

-With this French had to be content, and he went to the post office,

-and got through on the long distance telephone to his chief at the

-Yard. To him he repeated the essentials of the tale, asking him to

-inquire from the Moroccan authorities as to the truth of their portion

-of it, as well as to endeavor to trace the _L’Escaut_.

-

-On leaving the post office, it occurred to him that communication with

-the _L’Escaut_ should be possible by wireless, and he returned to the

-Rue des Tanneurs to ascertain this point. There he was told that just

-after he had left M. Lowenthal had received a telephone call,

-requiring his immediate presence in Holland, and he had with a great

-rush caught the afternoon express for the Dutch capital.

-

-“Skedaddled, by Jove!” said French to himself. “Guess that lets in the

-Belgian police.”

-

-He called at headquarters, and saw the officer in charge, and before

-he left to catch the connection for London, it had been arranged that

-the movements of the junior partner should be gone into, and a watch

-kept for the return of that enterprising weaver of fairy tales.

-

-

-

-Chapter XVIII

-

-A Visitor from India

-

-When French reached Victoria, the first person he saw on the platform

-was Maxwell Cheyne.

-

-“They told me at the Yard that you might be on this train,” the young

-man said excitedly as he elbowed his way forward. “Any news? Anything

-about Miss Merrill?”

-

-He looked old and worn, and it was evident that his anxiety was

-telling on him. In his eagerness he could scarcely wait for the

-Inspector to dismount from his carriage, and his loud tones were

-attracting curious looks from the bystanders.

-

-“Get a taxi,” French answered quietly. “We can talk there.”

-

-A few seconds later they found a vehicle, and Cheyne, gripping the

-other by the arm, went on earnestly:

-

-“Tell me. I can see you have learned something. Is she—all right?”

-

-“I got news of her on Thursday last. She was all right then, though

-still under the influence of a drug. The whole party has gone to sea.”

-

-“To sea?”

-

-“Yes, to sea in a small tramp. I don’t know what they are up to, but

-there is no reason to suppose Miss Merrill is otherwise than well.

-Probably they took her with them to prevent her giving them away. They

-would drug her to get her to go along, but would cease it as soon as

-she was on board. I wired for inquiries to be made at the different

-signal stations, and news may be waiting for us at the Yard.”

-

-A few seconds sufficed to put Cheyne in possession of the salient

-facts which French had learned, and the latter in his turn asked for

-news.

-

-“By Jove, yes!” Cheyne cried, “there is news. You remember that Arnold

-Price had disappeared? Well, yesterday I had a letter from him!”

-

-“You don’t say so?” French rejoined in surprise. “Where did he write

-from?”

-

-“Bombay. He was shortly leaving for home. He expects to be here in

-about a month.”

-

-“And what about his disappearance?”

-

-“He was ill in hospital. He had gone up to Agra on some private

-business and met with an accident—was knocked down in the street and

-was insensible for ages. He couldn’t say who he was, and the hospital

-people in Agra couldn’t find out, and he hadn’t told the Bombay people

-where he was going to spend his leave.”

-

-“Did he mention the letter?”

-

-“Yes, he thanked me for taking charge of it and said that when he

-reached home he would relieve me of further trouble about it. He

-little knows!”

-

-“That’s so,” French assented.

-

-Their taxi had been held up by a block at the end of Westminster

-Bridge, but now the mass cleared and in a few seconds they reached the

-Yard.

-

-French’s first care was to get rid of Cheyne. He repeated what he had

-learned about Joan Merrill, then, assuring him that the key of the

-matter lay in the cipher, he advised him to go home and try it once

-more. Directly any more news came in he would let him know.

-

-Cheyne having reluctantly taken his departure, French made inquiries

-as to what had been done in reference to his telephone from Antwerp.

-It appeared that the Yard had not been idle. In the first place an

-application had been made to the Moroccan Government, who had replied

-that no ship had been chartered by them for freight at Casablanca, nor

-was anything known of agricultural samples for the Italian market.

-Lowenthal’s story must therefore have been an absolute fabrication. He

-had, however, told it so readily that French suspected it had been

-made up beforehand, so as to be ready to serve up to any inquisitive

-policeman or detective who might come along.

-

-Next Lloyd’s had been approached, as to the direction the _L’Escaut_

-had taken, and a reply had shortly before come in from them. It stated

-that up to noon on that day, the vessel had not been reported from any

-of their stations. But this, French realized, might not mean so much.

-If she had gone south down the English Channel it would have been well

-on to dark before she reached the Straits of Dover. In any case, had

-she wished to slip through unseen, she had only to keep out to the

-middle of the passage, when in ordinary weather she would have been

-invisible from either coast. On the other hand, had she gone north,

-she would almost naturally have kept out of sight of land. It was true

-that in either case she would have been likely to pass some other

-vessel which would have spoken her, and the fact that no news of such

-a recognition had come to hand seemed to indicate that she was taking

-some unusual course out of the track of regular shipping.

-

-French wired this information to the Antwerp police, and then, his

-chief being disengaged, went in and gave him a detailed account of his

-adventures in Belgium.

-

-Chief Inspector Mitchell was impressed by the story. He sat back in

-his chair and treated French to a prolonged stare as the latter

-talked. At the end of the recital he remained sitting motionless for

-some moments, whistling gently below his breath.

-

-“Any theories?” he said at last.

-

-French shook his head.

-

-“Well, no, sir,” he answered slowly. “It’s not easy to see what

-they’re after. And it’s not easy to see, either, why the whole gang

-wanted to go. It looked at first as if they were just clearing out

-because of Cheyne’s coming to the Yard, but it’s more than that. The

-arrangements were made too long ago. They have been dealing with that

-Antwerp firm for several weeks.”

-

-“The hard copper was all a story?”

-

-“Looks like it, sir. As a matter of fact every single statement those

-men made that could be tested has been proved false. Even when there

-didn’t seem any great object in a yarn they pitched it. Lies seemed to

-come easier to them.”

-

-“Well, I’ve known a good few cases of that, and so have you, French.

-It’s a habit that grows. Now, what’s your next move?”

-

-French hesitated.

-

-“For the moment the outlook’s not very cheery,” he said at last. “All

-the same I can’t believe that boat can go away out of the Scheldt and

-disappear. In my judgment she’s bound to be reported before long, and

-I’m looking forward to getting word of her within the next day or so.

-Then I have no doubt that the tracing is some kind of cipher, and if

-we could read it we should probably get light on the whole affair.”

-

-“Why shouldn’t you read it? Try it again.”

-

-“I intend to, sir. But I don’t hope for much result, because I don’t

-believe we’ve got the genuine document. I don’t believe they would

-have handed it, nor a copy of it either, to a man they intended to

-murder, lest it should be found on his body. I’d state long odds they

-gave him a fake.”

-

-“I think you’re probably right,” the chief admitted. “Try at all

-events. You never know your luck.”

-

-He bent over his desk, and French, realizing that the interview had

-come to an end, quietly left the room. Then, seeing there was nothing

-requiring his attention urgently, and tired after his journey, he went

-home.

-

-But contrary to his expectations, the next day passed without any news

-of the _L’Escaut_, and the next, and many days after that. Nor could

-all his efforts with the tracing throw any light on that mysterious

-document. As time passed he began to grow more and more despondent,

-and the fear that he was going to make a mess of the case grew

-steadily stronger. In vain he laid his difficulties before his wife.

-For once that final source of inspiration failed him. Mrs. French did

-not take even one illuminating notion. When the third week had gone

-by, something akin to despair seized upon the Inspector. The only

-possibility of hope now seemed to lie in the return of Arnold Price,

-and French began counting the days until his arrival.

-

-One night about three weeks after his return from Belgium he settled

-down with a cigar after dinner, his thoughts running in their familiar

-groove: What were these people engaged on? Was there any way in which

-he could find out? Had he overlooked any evidence or any inquiries?

-Had he neglected any possible line of research?

-

-The more he considered the affair in all its bearings, the more

-conscious he became of the soundness of the advice he had given to

-Cheyne, and which in his turn he had received from his chief.

-Unquestionably in the tracing lay the solution he required, and once

-again he racked his brains to see if he could not by any means devise

-a way to read its message.

-

-On this point he concentrated, going over and over again everything he

-had learned about it. For perhaps an hour he remained motionless in

-his chair, while the smoke from his cigar curled up and slowly

-dissolved into the blue haze with which the room was becoming

-obscured. And then suddenly he sat up and with a dawning, tremulous

-eagerness considered an idea which had just leaped into his mind.

-

-He had suddenly remembered a statement made by Cheyne when he was

-giving his first rather incoherent account of his adventures. The

-young man said that it had been arranged between himself and Joan

-Merrill that if either were lucky enough to get the tracing into his

-or her possession, the first thing he or she would do would be to

-photograph it. Now, in juxtaposition with that statement, French

-recalled the facts, first, that Joan must have reached her flat on the

-night of her abduction at least several minutes before Blessington and

-Sime arrived with their car; and secondly, that during those minutes

-she had the tracing with her—the genuine tracing, as there was every

-reason to believe. _Had Joan photographed it?_

-

-French was overwhelmed with amazement and chagrin at his failure to

-think of this point before, nor could he acquit Cheyne of a like

-astounding stupidity. For himself he felt there was no excuse

-whatever. He had even specially noticed the girl’s camera and the

-flashlight apparatus which she used for her architectural details when

-he was searching her rooms, but he had then, and since then up till

-this moment, entirely and completely forgotten the arrangement made

-between the partners.

-

-Late as it was, French decided to go then and there to ascertain the

-point. The key of Joan’s flat was at the Yard, and twenty minutes

-later he had obtained it and was in a taxi bowling towards Horne

-Terrace.

-

-He kept the vehicle while he ran up the ten flights to No. 12 and

-secured the camera. Then hastening down, he was driven back to the

-Yard.

-

-By a piece of good luck he found a photographer who had been delayed

-by other important work, and him he pressed into the service

-forthwith. With some grumbling the man returned to his dark room.

-French, too eager to await his report, accompanying him.

-

-A few moments sufficed to settle the question. The camera contained a

-roll of films of which the first seven had been exposed, and a short

-immersion in the developer showed that numbers 5, 6, and 7 bore the

-hoped for impress.

-

-Gone was French’s despondency and the weariness caused by his heavy

-day, and instead he was once more the embodiment of enthusiasm and

-cheery optimism. He had it now! At last the secret was within his

-grasp! Of his ability to read the message, now that he was sure he had

-the genuine one, he had no doubt. He had always liked working out

-ciphers, and since he had succeeded in extracting the hidden meaning

-from the stock and share list which had been sent to the elusive Mrs.

-X in the Gething murder case, his belief in his own powers had become

-almost an obsession. He could hardly restrain his eagerness to get to

-grips with this new problem until the negatives should be dry and

-prints made.

-

-The photographer was able to promise these for the following day, and

-till then French had to possess his soul in patience. But on his

-return from lunch he found on his desk three excellent prints of the

-document.

-

-They were only half-plate size, or about one-third that of the tracing

-which had been given to Cheyne. He therefore instructed the

-photographer to prepare enlargements which would bring the document up

-to more nearly the size of the original. These were ready before it

-was time for him to leave for home, and he sat down with

-ill-controlled excitement to compare them with the document at which

-he had already spent so much time.

-

-And then he suddenly experienced one of the most bitter

-disappointments of his life. To all intents and purposes the two were

-the same! There were the same circles, the same numbers, letters, and

-signs enclosed therein, the same phrase, “England expects every man to

-do his duty,” spaced round in the same way! The tracing had not been

-very accurately done, as some of the circles seemed slightly out of

-place, but the discrepancies were trifling, and seemed obviously due

-to careless copying. He gave vent to a single bitter oath, then sat

-motionless, wrapped in the most profound gloom.

-

-He took tracing and photographs home with him, and spent the greater

-part of the evening making a minute comparison between the two. The

-enlargement unfortunately was not exactly the same size as the

-tracing, and he therefore began his work by covering the surfaces of

-both with proportionate squares.

-

-Taking the tracing first he drew parallel lines one inch apart both up

-and down it and across, thus covering its whole surface with inch

-squares. Then he divided the prints into the same number of equal

-parts both vertically and horizontally and ruled them up in squares

-also. These squares were slightly smaller than the others—about

-seven-eighths of an inch only—but relatively the lines fell on each in

-the same positions. A comparison according to the squares thus showed

-at a glance similarity or otherwise between the two documents.

-

-As he examined them in detail certain interesting facts began to

-emerge. The general appearance, the words “England expects every man

-to do his duty,” and the circles with their attendant letters and

-numbers were identical on both sheets. But there were striking

-variations. The position of certain of the circles was different.

-Those containing numbers and crooked lines were all slightly out of

-place, while those containing letters remained unmoved. Moreover, the

-little crooked lines, while preserving a rough resemblance to the

-originals, were altered in shape. The more he considered the matter

-the more evident it became to French that these divergences were

-intentional. The tracing which had been given to Cheyne was intended

-to resemble the other superficially—and did so resemble it, but it had

-clearly been faked to make it valueless.

-

-[Illustration: A full-page image of dozens of circles. Their

-arrangement appears to be random. Most circles contains either a

-letter or a number, with the numbers ranging from 1 to 36. Eight or

-nine circles instead contain a short, irregularly-shaped line. Words

-are placed in between the circles, arranged in a loop through the

-entire image, reading clockwise “England expects every man to do his

-duty”.]

-

-If French were right so far, and he had but little doubt of it, it

-followed that the essential feature of the circles and crooked lines

-was position. This, he felt, should be a useful hint, but as yet he

-could not see where it led.

-

-He pondered fruitlessly over the problem till the small hours, and

-next morning he took the documents back to the Yard to continue his

-studies. But he did not have an opportunity to do so. Other work was

-waiting for him. To his delight he found that Arnold Price had reached

-home, and that he and Cheyne were waiting to see him.

-

-Price proved to be a lanky and rather despondent-looking individual

-with a skin burned to the color of copper and a pair of exceedingly

-shrewd blue eyes. He dropped into the chair French indicated, and

-instantly pulled out and lit a well-blackened cutty pipe.

-

-“Got in yesterday morning,” he announced laconically, “and wired

-Torquay I was going down. By the merest luck I got a reply before I

-started that Cheyne was in town. I looked him up and here I am.”

-

-French smiled pleasantly. Though interested in the man, he could not

-help noting with some amusement at once the restraint and the

-completeness of his statement. How refreshing, he thought, and how

-rare, to meet some one who will give you the pith of a story without

-frills!

-

-“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Price,” he said cordially. “I suppose Mr.

-Cheyne has told you the effect that your letter has had on us all?”

-

-The other nodded.

-

-“Not altogether surprising,” he declared. “There’s money in the

-thing—or so I always believed, and this other crowd must believe it

-too; though how they got on to the affair licks me.”

-

-“We shall be very much interested to hear what you can tell us about

-it,” French prompted. “Will you smoke, Mr. Cheyne?” He held out his

-cigar case.

-

-“I can’t tell you much,” Price returned, “and nothing that will clear

-up this blessed mystery that seems to have started up. But this is my

-story for what it’s worth. Before the war I was on one of the Hudson

-and Spence boats and I had the luck to get into the R.N.R. when

-hostilities broke out. I stayed on in my old ship till she was

-torpedoed a couple of years later, then I was appointed third officer

-on the _Maurania_. We were on a trip from South Africa to Brest with

-army stores, when one day, just as we came into the English Channel,

-we were attacked by a U-boat. We had an 18-pounder forward, and by a

-stroke of luck we gave old Fritz one on the knob that did him in. The

-boat went down and a dozen of the crew were left swimming. We put out

-a boat and picked one or two of them up. The skipper was clinging on

-to a lifebelt, but just as we came up he let go and began to sink. I

-was in charge of the boat, and some fool notion came over me—I think

-in the hurry I forgot he was a U-boat skipper—but anyhow like a fool I

-got overboard and got hold of him. It was nothing like a dramatic

-rescue—there was no danger to me—and we were back on board inside

-fifteen minutes.”

-

-French and Cheyne were listening intently to this familiar story. So

-far it was almost word for word that told by Dangle. Apparently, then,

-there was at least one point on which the latter had told the truth.

-

-“We weren’t out of trouble,” Price resumed, “and next day we came up

-against another submarine. We exchanged a few shots and then a British

-destroyer came up and drove him off. But I had the luck to stop a

-splinter of shell, and when we got to Brest I was sent to hospital.

-The U-boat skipper had got a crack on the head when his boat went

-down, and he was sent in too. By a chance we got side by side beds in

-the same ward, and used to talk a bit, though he was a rotter, even

-for a Boche.”

-

-Price paused to draw on his cutty pipe, expelling great clouds of

-smoke of a peculiarly acrid and penetrating quality. Then, the others

-not speaking, he went on:

-

-“It turned out that the wound on Schulz’s head—his name was Schulz—was

-serious, and he grew steadily worse. Then one night when the ward was

-quiet, he woke me and said he knew his number was up and that he had a

-secret to tell me. We listened, but all the other fellows seemed

-asleep, and then he told me he could put me in the way of a

-fortune—that he had hoped to get it himself after the war, but now

-that it would be a job for someone else. He said he would tell me the

-whole thing, and that I might make what I could out of it, if only I

-would pledge myself to give one-eighth of what I got to his wife. He

-gave me the address—somewhere in Breslau. He asked me to swear this

-and I did, and then he took a packet from under his pillow and handed

-it to me. ‘There,’ he said, ‘the whole thing’s there. I put it in

-cipher for safety, but I’ll tell you how to read it.’ Well, he began

-to do so, but just then a sister came in, and he shut up till she

-would leave. But the excitement of talking about the thing must have

-been too much for him. He got a weak turn and never spoke again.”

-

-“But,” Cheyne interposed, “what about the hard copper? Dangle told us

-about Schulz’s discovery.”

-

-Price gazed at him vacantly for some moments and then suddenly smote

-the table.

-

-“I’ve got it!” he cried with an oath. “Dangle! I remember that chap

-now! He was in the next bed on the other side of Schulz. That’s right!

-I couldn’t call him to mind when you mentioned him before. Of course!

-He heard the whole tale, and that’s what started him on this do.”

-

-“I know,” Cheyne returned. “He admitted that all right. But he told us

-about the hard copper. You haven’t mentioned that.”

-

-Price shook his head.

-

-“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he declared. “What do you mean

-by hard copper?”

-

-“Dangle mentioned it. He was listening to the conversation. He told us

-all that about Schulz’s story of the fortune, and about his wife and

-all that, just as you have, but he said Schulz went on to explain what

-the fortune was: that he had hit on a way of treating copper that made

-it as hard as steel. The cipher contained the formula.”

-

-Again Price shook his head.

-

-“All spoof,” he observed. “Not a word of truth in it. Schulz never

-mentioned copper or said anything more than I’ve told you.”

-

-French spoke for the first time.

-

-“We found this Dangle a man of imagination, all through, and it is

-easy to see why he invented that particular yarn. By that time he had

-undoubtedly read the cipher, and he wanted something to mislead Mr.

-Cheyne as to its contents. The story of the hard copper would start a

-bias in Mr. Cheyne’s mind which would tend to keep him off the real

-scent.” He paused, but his companions not speaking, continued: “Now we

-have that bias cleared away, at least one interesting fact emerges.

-The whole business starts with the sea—the U-boat commander, Schulz,

-and it looks as if it was going to end up with the sea, the tramp, the

-_L’Escaut_.”

-

-As French said these words an idea flashed into his mind, and he went

-on deliberately, but with growing excitement:

-

-“And when we connect the idea of a U-boat commander giving a message

-which ends with a sea expedition, with the fact, which I have just

-discovered, that the essence of his cipher is the _position_ of the

-markings on it, we seem to be getting somewhere.”

-

-Price smote his thigh.

-

-“By Jemima!” he cried. “I’ve got you. That blessed tracing is a map!”

-

-“A map, yes. That’s what I think,” French answered eagerly, and then

-as suddenly he saw the possible significance of Nelson’s exhortation,

-he went on dramatically: “A map of England!”

-

-Cheyne swore softly.

-

-“My word, if we aren’t a set of blithering idiots!” he exclaimed. “Of

-course! ‘England’ is the title. That’s as clear as day! The other

-words are added as a blind. Let’s have the thing out, Inspector, and

-see if we can’t make something of it now.”

-

-As French produced his enlarged photographs not one of the three men

-doubted that they were at last well on the way towards wresting the

-secret from the document which had so long baffled them.

-

-

-

-Chapter XIX

-

-The Message of the Tracing

-

-Inspector French spread the photograph on his desk, and Cheyne and

-Price having drawn up chairs, all three gazed at it as if expecting

-that in the light of their great idea its message would have become

-obvious.

-

-But in this they were disappointed. The suggestion did not seem in any

-way to help either French or Cheyne, and Price, who of course had not

-seen the document before, was satisfactorily mystified. Granted that

-the thing was a map, granted even that it was a map of England, its

-meaning remained just as provokingly hidden as ever.

-

-Presently Price gave vent to an exclamation. “Hang it all!” he cried

-irritably, and then: “I suppose those numbers couldn’t be soundings?

-Could they give depths at the circles?”

-

-“That’s an idea,” Cheyne cried, but French shook his head.

-

-“I think there’s more in it than that,” he observed. “If you examine

-those numbers you’ll find that they’re consecutive, they run from one

-to thirty-six. Soundings wouldn’t lend themselves to such an

-arrangement. You may be right, Mr. Price, and we must keep your idea

-in view, but I don’t see it working out for the moment.”

-

-Silence reigned for a few moments, then Price sat back from the table

-and spoke again.

-

-“Look here, Inspector,” he said, knocking the ashes out of his pipe

-and beginning to fill it with his strong, black mixture, “you said

-something just now I didn’t quite follow. Let’s get your notion clear.

-You talked of this thing beginning with the sea—at Schulz, and ending

-with the sea—at _L’Escaut_, and Schulz’s message being a map. Just

-what was in your mind?”

-

-“Only the obvious suggestion that if you leave a message which

-provokes an expedition, you must also convey in your message the

-destination of that expedition, and a map seems the simplest way of

-doing it. But on second thoughts I question my first conclusion. There

-must be an explanation of the secret as well as a direction of how to

-profit by it, and it would seem to me doubtful that such an

-explanation could be covered by a map.”

-

-“Sounds all right, that,” Price admitted. “Have you any idea what the

-secret might be? Sounds like treasure or salvage or something of that

-kind.”

-

-“I scarcely think salvage,” French answered. “The _L’Escaut_ is not a

-salvage boat, and a boat not specially fitted for the purpose would be

-of little use. But I thought of treasure all right. This Schulz might

-have robbed his ships—there would always be money aboard, and even

-during the war many women traveled with jewelry. The man might easily

-have made a cache of valuables somewhere round the coast.”

-

-“Easily,” Cheyne intervened, “or he might have learned of some

-valuable deposit in some out of the way cove round the coast, like

-those chaps in that clinking tale of Maurice Drake’s, _WO₂_.”

-

-“As at Terneuzen?” said French. “I read that book—one of the best I

-ever came across. It’s a possibility, of course.”

-

-The talk here became somewhat rambling, Price not having read _WO₂_

-and wanting to know what it was about, but French soon reverted to his

-photograph. He reminded his hearers that they were all interested in

-its elucidation. Miss Merrill’s safety, his own professional credit,

-Cheyne’s peace of mind, and Price’s fortune, all were at stake.

-

-“We have,” he went on, “evolved the idea that perhaps this tracing may

-be a map of England. On further thought that suggestion does not seem

-promising, but as we have no other let us work on it. Assume it is a

-map of England, and let us see if it leads us anywhere.” There were

-murmurs of assent from his hearers, and he continued: “Now it seems to

-me the first thing to do is to try if we can fit these circles and

-lines into the map of England. Is there anything corresponding to them

-in English geography?”

-

-No one being able to answer this query, French went on:

-

-“I think we must distinguish between the letter circles on the one

-hand and those of the numbers and lines on the other. The position of

-the former was not altered in the faked copy; that of the latter was.

-From this may we not assume that the message lies in the numbers and

-lines only? Possibly the letters were added as a blind, as we have

-already assumed the words ‘expects every man to do his duty’ were

-added as a blind to ‘England.’ Suppose at all events that we eliminate

-the letter circles and concentrate on the others for our first

-effort?”

-

-“That sounds all right.”

-

-“Good. Then let us go a step further. Have you noticed the

-distribution of the numbers, letters and lines? The numbers are

-bunched, roughly speaking, towards the center, the letters round the

-edge, and the irregular lines between the two. Does this central mass

-give us anything?”

-

-“I get you,” Price replied. He had risen and begun to pace the room,

-but now he returned to the table and stood looking down at the

-photograph. “You know, as a matter of fact,” he went on slowly, “if,

-as you say, you take that central part which contains numbers only,

-the shape of the thing is not so very unlike England after all.

-Suppose the numbers represent land and the letters sea. Then this

-patch of letters in the top left-hand corner might be the Irish Sea,

-and this larger patch to the right the North Sea. And look, the letter

-circles form a band across the bottom. What price that for the English

-Channel?”

-

-French crossed the room, and taking a small atlas from a shelf, opened

-it at the map of England and laid it down beside the photograph. With

-a rising excitement all three compared them. Then Cheyne burst out

-irritably:

-

-“Confound the thing! It’s like it and it’s not like it. Let’s draw a

-line round those number circles and see if it makes anything like the

-shape.” He seized the photograph and took out a pencil.

-

-But just as in the scientific and industrial worlds discoveries and

-inventions seldom come singly, so among these three men the begetting

-of ideas begot more ideas. Scarcely had Cheyne spoken when French made

-a little gesture of comprehension.

-

-“I believe I have it at last,” he said quietly but with ill-concealed

-eagerness in his tones. “Those irregular lines in certain of the

-circles are broken bits of the coast line. See here, those two between

-8 and U are surely the Wash, and that below H is Flamborough Head.

-Let’s see if we can locate correspondingly shaped outlines on the

-atlas, and fill in between those on the photograph with pencil.”

-

-A few seconds’ examination only were needed. Opposite, but slightly

-above the projection which French suggested as Flamborough Head was an

-angled line between GU and 31 which all three simultaneously

-pronounced St. Bee’s Head. Short double lines on each side of 24

-showed two parts of the estuary of the Severn, and projections along

-the bottom near X and 27 were evidently St. Alban’s Head and Selsey

-Bill.

-

-That they were on the right track there could now no longer be any

-doubt, and they set themselves with renewed energy to the problem

-still remaining—the meaning of the circles and the numbers they

-contained.

-

-“We can’t locate the blessed things this way,” French pointed out.

-“We’ll have to rule squares on the atlas to correspond. Then we can

-pencil in the coast line accurately, and see just where the circles

-lie.”

-

-For a time measuring and the drawing of lines were the order of the

-day. And then at last the positions of the circles were located. They

-were all drawn round towns.

-

-“Towns!” Price exclaimed. “Guess we’re getting on.”

-

-“Towns!” Cheyne echoed in his turn. “Then you must have been right,

-Inspector, about those letters being merely a blind.”

-

-“I think so,” French admitted. “Look at it in this way. If only the

-towns and coast were marked, the shape of England would show too

-clearly. But adding those letter circles disguises the thing—prevents

-the shape becoming apparent. Now, I may be wrong, but I am beginning

-to question very much if this map has anything to do with indicating a

-position—I mean directly. I am beginning to think it is merely a

-cipher. Let us test this at all events. Let us write down the names of

-the towns in the order of the numbers and see if that gives us

-anything.”

-

-He took a sheet of paper, while Price found No. 1 on the photograph

-and Cheyne identified its position with that of a town on the atlas

-map.

-

-“No. 1,” said Cheyne, “is Salisbury.”

-

-French wrote down: “1, Salisbury.”

-

-“No. 2,” went on Cheyne, “is Immingham.”

-

-“2, Immingham,” wrote French, as he remarked, “Salisbury—Immingham:

-S—I. That goes all right so far.”

-

-The next three towns were Liverpool, Uttoxeter, and Reading, and

-though none of the men could see where SILUR was leading, it was at

-least pronounceable.

-

-But when the next three letters were added French gave a mighty shout

-of victory. No. 6 was Ipswich, No. 7 Andover, and No. 8 Nottingham.

-IAN added to SILUR made Silurian.

-

-“_Silurian!_” French cried, striking the table a mighty blow with his

-clenched fist. “_Silurian!_ That begins to show a light!”

-

-The others stared.

-

-“Don’t you recognize the name?” went on French. “The _Silurian_ was a

-big Anchor liner, and she was torpedoed on her way to the States with

-two and a half millions in gold bars aboard!”

-

-The others held their breath and their eyes grew round.

-

-“Any of it recovered?”

-

-“None: it was in mid-Atlantic.”

-

-“But,” stammered Cheyne at last, “I don’t follow—”

-

-“I don’t follow myself,” French returned briskly, “but when the cipher

-which leads to a maritime expedition begins with a wreck with two and

-a half millions aboard, well then, I say it is suggestive. Come along,

-let’s read the rest of the thing. We’ll know more then.”

-

-With breathless eagerness the other towns were looked up, and at last

-French’s list read as follows:

-

-     1. Salisbury

-     2. Immingham

-     3. Liverpool

-     4. Uttoxeter

-     5. Reading

-     6. Ipswich

-     7. Andover

-     8. Nottingham

-     9. Oxford

-    10. Northampton

-    11. Evesham

-    12. Doncaster

-    13. Exeter

-    14. Gloucester

-    15. Ripon

-    16. Ely

-    17. Eastbourne

-    18. Wigan

-    19. Exmouth

-    20. Swansea

-    21. Tonbridge

-    22. Nuneaton

-    23. Ilfracombe

-    24. Newport

-    25. Eaglescliff

-    26. Taunton

-    27. Eastleigh

-    28. Ebbw Vale

-    29. Northallerton

-    30. Folkestone

-    31. Appleby

-    32. Tamworth

-    33. Huntingdon

-    34. Oldham

-    35. Middlesborough

-    36. Southend

-

-Taking the initials in order read: 

-Silurianonedegreewestnineteenfathoms, or dividing it into its obvious

-words—“_Silurian_ one degree west nineteen fathoms.”

-

-The three men stared at one another.

-

-“Nineteen fathoms!” Price gasped at last. “But if she’s in nineteen

-fathoms that gold will be salvable!”

-

-French nodded.

-

-“And I guess Dangle and Company have gone to salve it. They wouldn’t

-want a salvage boat for gold. They’d get it with a diver’s outfit.”

-

-“But,” Cheyne went on in a puzzled tone, “I’ve not got this straight

-yet. If she’s in nineteen fathoms, why has she not been salved by the

-Admiralty? Look at the _Laurentic_. She was put down off the Swilly in

-Ireland, and they salved her gold. Five million pounds’ worth. Salved

-practically every penny, and in twenty fathoms too.”

-

-Price was considering another problem.

-

-“One degree west,” he murmured. “What under heaven does that mean? One

-degree west of what? Surely not the meridian of Greenwich. If so, what

-is the latitude: there’s no mention of it?”

-

-French could not answer either of the questions, and he did not try.

-Instead he picked up his telephone receiver and made a call.

-

-“Hallo! Is that Lloyd’s? Put me through to the Record Department,

-please . . . Is Mr. Sam Pullar there? Tell him Inspector French of

-Scotland Yard wants to speak to him . . . Hallo, Sam! . . . Yes . . .

-Haven’t seen you for ages . . . Look here, Sam, I want you to do me a

-favor. It’s rather urgent, and I’d be grateful if you could look after

-it just now. . . . Yes, I’ll hold on. I want to know anything you can

-tell me about the sinking of the _Silurian_. You remember, she had two

-and a half millions on her in gold, and the U-boats got her somewhere

-between this country and the States, I think in ’17 . . . What’s that?

-. . . Yes, all that and anything else you can tell me.” He took the

-receiver from his ear. “Friend of mine in Lloyd’s,” he explained. “We

-ought to get some light from his reply.”

-

-Silence reigned for a couple of minutes, then French spoke again. “Let

-me repeat that,” he said, seizing a pad and scribbling furiously.

-“Latitude 41 degrees 36 minutes north, longitude 28 degrees 53 minutes

-west. Right. How was that known? . . . But there was no direct

-information? . . . Was the gold insured? . . . Well, it’s an involved

-business, I could hardly tell you over the phone. I’ll explain it

-first time we meet . . . Thank you, Sam. Much obliged.”

-

-He rang off and then made a departmental call.

-

-“Put me through to Inspector Barnes . . . That you, Barnes? I’m on to

-something a bit in your line. Could you come down here for half an

-hour?”

-

-“Barnes is our authority on things nautical,” he told the others.

-“Began life as a sailor and has studied all branches of sea lore. We

-always give him shipping cases. We’ll wait till he comes and then I’ll

-tell you what I learned from Lloyd’s.”

-

-“Isn’t it a strange thing,” Cheyne remarked, “that Schulz should have

-chosen England for his map and English for his cipher. Wouldn’t the

-natural thing have been for him to have chosen Germany and German? He

-could have headed it, for instance, ‘Deutschland über Alles,’ and used

-the initials of German towns for his phrase.”

-

-“I thought of that,” French returned, “but we have to remember he

-prepared the cipher to mislead Germans, not English. In that case I

-think he was right to use English. It made the thing more difficult.”

-

-He had scarcely finished speaking when the door opened, and a tall,

-alert-looking young man entered the room. French introduced him as

-Inspector Barnes and pointed to a chair.

-

-“Seat yourself, Barnes, and listen to my tale. These gentlemen are

-concerned with a curious story,” and he gave a brief résumé of the

-strange events which had led up to the existing situation. “Now,” he

-went on, “when we found it was connected with the _Silurian_ I rang up

-Sam Pullar at Lloyd’s, and this is what he told me. The _Silurian_

-sailed from this country on the 16th of February, 1917. She was bound

-for New York, and she had two and a half millions on her in bullion as

-well as a fair number of passengers. She was a big boat—an Anchor

-liner of some 15,000 tons. You remember about her?”

-

-“Well, I should think so,” Barnes returned, as he lit a cigarette.

-“Why, I was on that job—getting her away, I mean. All kinds of

-precautions were taken. A tale was started that she would load up the

-gold at Plymouth and would sail—I forget the exact date now, but it

-was three days after she did sail. It was my job to see that the

-German spies about Plymouth got hold of this tale, and we had evidence

-that they did get it, and moreover sent it through to Germany, and

-that the U-boats were instructed accordingly. As a matter of fact the

-_Silurian_ came from Brest, where she had landed army stores from

-South America, and the bullion went out in a tender from Folkestone,

-and was transferred at night in the Channel in the middle of a ring of

-destroyers. While preparations were being made at Plymouth for her

-arrival she was away hundreds of miles towards the States.”

-

-“But they got her all the same.”

-

-“Oh yes, they got her, but not all the same. She escaped the boats

-that were looking out for her. It was a chance boat that found her,

-somewhere, if I remember rightly, near the Azores.”

-

-“That’s right,” French answered. “Instead of going directly west, so

-Sam Pullar told me, she went south to avoid those submarines you spoke

-of and which were supposed to be operating off the Land’s End. Her

-course was followed by wireless, down to near the Spanish coast, and

-then across fairly due west. She was last seen by a Cape boat some

-thirty miles west of Finisterre. Then a message was received from her

-when she was some 250 miles north of the Azores, that a U-boat had

-come along, and had ordered her to stop. The message gave her position

-and went on to say that a boat was coming aboard from the submarine.

-Then it stopped, and that was the last thing that was heard of her.

-Not a body or a boat or a bit of wreckage was ever picked up, and it

-was clear that every one on board was lost. Then after a time

-confirmation was obtained. Our intelligence people in Germany

-intercepted a report from the commander of the submarine who sank her,

-giving details. She had been sunk in latitude 41° 36′ north, longitude

-28° 53′ west, which confirmed the figures sent out in her last

-wireless message. Four boats had got away, but the commander had fired

-on them and had sunk them one after another, so that not a single

-member of the passengers or crew should survive.”

-

-“Dirty savages,” Barnes commented. “But people in open boats wouldn’t

-have had much chance there anyway, particularly in February. If they

-had been able to keep afloat at all, they would probably have missed

-the Azores, and it’s very unlikely they would have made the Spanish or

-Portuguese coast—it would have been too far.”

-

-French pushed forward his atlas.

-

-“Just whereabouts did she sink?” he inquired.

-

-“About there.” Barnes indicated a point north of the Azores. “But this

-atlas is too small to see it. Send someone to my room for my large

-atlas. You’ll see better on that.”

-

-French having telephoned his instructions Barnes went on.

-

-“She’s evidently lying on what is called the Dolphin Rise. The Dolphin

-Rise is part of a great ridge which passes down the middle of the

-Atlantic from near Iceland to well down towards the Antarctic Ocean.

-This ridge is covered by an average of some 1,700 fathoms of water,

-with vastly greater depths on either side. It is volcanic and is

-covered by great submarine mountain chains. Where the tops of these

-mountains protrude above the surface we get, of course, islands, and

-the Azores are such a group.”

-

-A constable at that moment entered with the large atlas, and Barnes

-continued:

-

-“Now we’ll see in a moment.” He ran his finger down the index of maps,

-then turned the pages. “Here we are. Here is a map of the North

-Atlantic Ocean: here are the Azores and hereabouts is your point,

-and—By Jove!” the young man looked actually excited, “here is what

-your cipher means all right!”

-

-The other three crowded round in almost breathless excitement. Barnes

-pointed with a pencil slightly to the east of a white spot about a

-quarter of an inch in diameter which bore the figure 18.

-

-“Look here,” he went on, “there’s about the point she is supposed to

-have sunk. You see it is colored light blue, which the reference tells

-us means over 1,000 fathoms. But measure one degree to the west—it is

-about fifty miles at that latitude—and it brings us into the middle of

-that white patch marked 18. That white patch is another mountain

-chain, just not high enough to become an island, and the 18 means that

-the peaks come within 18 fathoms of the surface. So that your cipher

-message is probably quite all right, and your Antwerp party are more

-than likely working away at the gold at the present time.”

-

-French swore comprehensively.

-

-“You must be right,” he agreed. “One can see now what that blackguard

-of a U-boat commander did. He evidently put some men aboard the

-_Silurian_ to dismantle their wireless, then made them sail on

-parallel to his own course until he had by the use of his lead

-maneuvered them over the highest peak, and then put them down. The

-whole thing must have been quite deliberate. He returned to his own

-government a false statement of her position, which he knew would

-correspond with the last message she sent out, intending it to be

-believed that she was lost in over 1,000 fathoms. But he sank her

-where he could himself afterwards recover her bullion, or sell his

-secret to the highest bidder. The people on the _Silurian_ would know

-all about that two or three hours’ steam west, so they must be got rid

-of. Hence his destroying the boats one after another. No one must be

-left alive to give the thing away. To his own crew he no doubt told

-some tale to account for it, but he would be safe enough there, as no

-one except himself would know the actual facts. Dirty savage indeed!”

-

-With this speech of French’s a light seemed to Cheyne suddenly to

-shine out over all that strange adventure in which for so many weeks

-he had been involved. With it each puzzling fact seemed to become

-comprehensible and to drop into its natural place in the story as the

-pieces of a jigsaw puzzle eventually make a coherent whole. He

-pictured the thing from the beginning, the submarine coming up with

-the ship in deep water, but comparatively close to a shallow place

-where its treasure could be salved: the desire of the U-boat

-commander, Schulz, to save the gold, quite possibly in the first

-instance for the benefit of his nation. Then the temptation to keep

-what he had done secret so as, if possible later, to get the stuff for

-himself. His fall before this temptation, with its contingent false

-return to his government as to the position of the wreck. Then, Cheyne

-saw, the problem of passing on the secret in the event of his own

-death would arise, with the evolution and construction of the cipher

-as an attempted solution. As a result of Schulz’s fatal wound the

-cipher was handed to Price, and Schulz was doubtless about to explain

-how it should be read, when he was interrupted by the nurse. Before

-another chance offered he was dead.

-

-Given the fact that Dangle overheard the dying man’s story, and that

-Dangle’s character was what it was, Cheyne now saw that the remainder

-of his adventure could scarcely have happened otherwise than as it

-had. To obtain the cipher was Dangle’s obvious course, and there was

-no reason to doubt his own statement of how he set about it. A search

-among Price’s papers showed the latter had sent the document to

-Cheyne, and from Cheyne Dangle had evidently decided to obtain it. But

-nothing could be done till after the war, nor, presumably, without

-financial and other help. In this lay, doubtless, the reason for the

-application to Blessington and Sime, and these two being roped in, the

-unscrupulous trio set themselves to work. Susan Dangle assisted by

-obtaining a post as servant at Warren Lodge, and thus gained detailed

-information which enabled the others to lay their plans. And so in a

-quite orderly sequence event had followed event, until now it looked

-as if the climax had been reached.

-

-Like a flash these thoughts passed through Cheyne’s mind, and like a

-flash he saw what depended on them. Now they knew where Joan Merrill

-had been taken. If she was still alive—and he simply could not bring

-himself to admit any other possibility—she was on that boat of

-Merkel’s some two hundred and fifty miles north of the Azores! From

-that something surely followed. He turned to French and spoke in a

-voice which was hoarse from anxiety.

-

-“What about an expedition to the place?”

-

-French nodded decisively.

-

-“We must arrange one without delay,” he said. “I think the Admiralty

-is our hope. That gold wasn’t insured—it was a government business.

-I’ll go and tell the chief about it now, and get him to see the proper

-authorities. Meanwhile,” he looked, for French, quite sharply at the

-others, “not a word of this must be breathed.”

-

-Intense interest was excited in the higher circles of the Admiralty by

-the news which reached them from the Yard. Great personages bestirred

-themselves to issue orders, with the result that with enormously more

-promptitude than the man in the street can bring himself to associate

-with a Government Department, a fast boat, well equipped with divers

-and gear, was got ready for sea. French put in a word for both Cheyne

-and Price, and when, some eight hours after their reading of the

-cipher, the boat put out into the Thames from Chatham Dockyard, it

-carried in addition to its regular crew not only Inspector French

-himself, but also his two protégés.

-

-

-

-Chapter XX

-

-The Goal of the “L’Escaut”

-

-Inspector French had gone to bed in the tiny but comfortable stateroom

-which had been put at his disposal by the officers of the Admiralty

-boat while that redoubtable vessel was slipping easily and on an even

-keel through the calm waters of the Straits of Dover. He awoke next

-morning to find her plunging and rolling and staggering through what,

-in comparison with his previous experiences of the sea, appeared to be

-a frightful storm. To his surprise, however, he did not feel any bad

-effects from the motion, and presently he arose, and having with

-extreme care performed the ticklish operation of shaving, dressed and

-climbed with the aid of railings and handles to the companionway, and

-so to the deck.

-

-The sight which met his eyes on emerging made him hold his breath, as

-he clung to the rail at the companion door. It was a wonderful

-morning, clear and bright and fresh and invigorating. The sun shone

-down from a cloudless sky on to a dark sapphire sea of incredible

-purity, flecked over with foaming patches of dazzling white. As far as

-the eye could reach in every direction out to the hard sharp line of

-the horizon, great waves rolled relentlessly onward, wavelets dancing

-and churning and foaming on their slow-moving flanks. The wind caught

-French and, as if it were a solid, held him pinned against the

-deckhouse. He stood watching the bluff bows of the boat rise in the

-air, then crash back into the sea, throwing out a smother of water and

-foam some of which would seep over the fo’c’sle, and after swirling

-through the forward deck hamper, disappear through the scuppers

-amidships.

-

-For some moments he watched, then moving round the deckhouse, he

-glanced up and saw Cheyne and Price beckoning to him from the bridge,

-where they had joined the officer of the watch.

-

-“Some morning this, Inspector,” Price cried, as he joined them in the

-lee of the weather canvas. “This will blow the London cobwebs out of

-our minds.”

-

-He was evidently keenly enjoying himself, and even Cheyne’s anxious

-face showed appreciation of his surroundings. And soon French himself,

-having realized that they were not necessarily going to the bottom in

-a hurricane, but merely running down Channel in a fresh southwesterly

-breeze, began to feel the thrill of the sea, and to believe that the

-end of his quest was going to develop into a novel and delightful

-holiday trip.

-

-The same weather held all that day and the next, but on the third the

-wind fell, and the sea gradually calmed down to a slow, easy swell.

-The sun grew hotter, and basking in it in the lee of the deckhouse

-became a delight. Little was said about the object of the expedition.

-French and Price were content to enjoy the present, and Cheyne managed

-to keep his anxieties to himself. The ship’s officers were a jolly

-crowd, immensely excited by their quest, and conducting themselves as

-the kindly hosts of welcome guests.

-

-On the fourth day it grew still warmer, indeed out of the breeze made

-by the ship’s motion it was unpleasantly hot. French liked to get away

-forward, where it was cooler, and leaned by the hour over the bows,

-watching the sharp stem cut through the water and roll back in its

-frothing wave on either side. Dolphins were now to be seen swimming in

-the clear water, and two hung at the bows, one on each side,

-apparently motionless for long periods, until suddenly they would dart

-ahead, spiral round one another and then return to their places.

-

-That fourth evening the captain joined his passengers as the trio were

-smoking on deck.

-

-“If we carry on like this,” he remarked, “we should reach the position

-about four A.M. But those beggars may be taking a risk and not showing

-a light, so I propose to slow down from now on, in order not to arrive

-till daylight. Come on deck about six. If they’re here we should raise

-them between then and seven.”

-

-French, waking early next morning, could not control his excitement

-and remain in his berth until the allotted time. He rose at five, and

-went on deck with the somewhat shamefaced feeling that he was acting

-as a small boy, who on Christmas morning must needs get up on waking

-to investigate the possibilities of stockings. But he need not have

-feared ridicule from his companions. Both Cheyne and Price were

-already on the bridge, and the skipper stood with his telescope glued

-to his eye as he searched the horizon ahead. All three were evidently

-thrilled by the approaching finale, and a slight incoherence was

-discernible in their somewhat scrappy conversation.

-

-The morning was calm and very clear. Once again the sky was cloudless,

-and the soft southwesterly wind barely ruffled the surface of the long

-flat swells. It was a pleasure to be alive, and it seemed impossible

-to associate crime and violence with the expedition. But beneath their

-smiles all concerned felt it might easily develop into a grim enough

-business. And that side of it became more apparent when at the

-captain’s order the covers of the six-pounders mounted fore and aft

-were removed, and the weapons were prepared for action by their crews.

-

-The hands of French’s watch had just reached the quarter hour after

-six, when Captain Amery, who had once again been sweeping the horizon

-with his telescope, said quietly: “There she is.” He handed the glass

-to French. “See there, about three points on the starboard bow.”

-

-French, with some difficulty steadying the tube, saw very faint and

-far off what looked like the upper part of a steamer’s deck, with a

-funnel, and two masts like threads of the finest gossamer. “She’s

-still hull down,” the captain explained. “You’ll see her better in a

-few minutes. We should be up with her in three-quarters of an hour.”

-

-In order to leave them free later on, it was decided to have breakfast

-at once, and by the time the hasty meal had been disposed of the

-stranger was clearly visible to the naked eye. She lay heading

-westward, as though anchored in the swing of the tide, and her fires

-appeared to be either out or banked, as no smoke was visible at her

-funnel. The glass revealed a flag at her forepeak, but she was still

-too far off to make out its coloring.

-

-Now that the dramatic climax was approaching, the minds of the actors

-in the play became charged with a very real anxiety. Captain Amery,

-under almost any circumstances, would have to deal with a very

-ticklish situation. He had to get the gold, if it was salvable, and

-the fact that they were not in British waters would be a complication

-if the Belgian had already recovered it. French had to ascertain if

-his quarry were on board, and if so, see that they did not escape

-him—also a difficult job outside the three-mile limit. For Price a

-fortune hung in the balance—not of course all the gold that might be

-found, but the proportion allowed him by law; while for Cheyne there

-remained something a thousand times more important than the capture of

-a criminal or the acquisition of a fortune—for Cheyne the question of

-Joan Merrill’s life was at stake. Their several anxieties were

-reflected on the faces of the men, as they stood in silence, watching

-the rapidly growing vessel.

-

-Presently an exclamation came from Captain Amery.

-

-“By Jove!” he said, “this is a rum business. I can see that flag now,

-and it’s our red ensign. What’s a Belgian boat doing with a British

-flag? And what’s more, it’s jack down—a flag of distress. What do you

-think of that?” He looked at the others with a puzzled expression,

-then went on: “I suppose they’re not armed? You don’t know, Inspector,

-do you? If they were armed it would be a likely enough ruse to get us

-close by, so as to make sure of hitting us in a vital place.”

-

-French shook his head. He had heard nothing about arms, though for all

-he knew to the contrary the _L’Escaut_ might carry a gun.

-

-“I don’t see one,” the captain continued, “but then if they have one

-they’d keep it hidden. But I don’t like there being no signs of life

-aboard her. There’s no smoke anywhere, either from her boilers or her

-galley. There’s no one on the bridge, and I’ve not seen a movement on

-deck. It doesn’t look well: in fact it looks as if they were lying low

-and waiting for us.”

-

-They were now within a mile of the stranger, and her details were

-clear even to the naked eye.

-

-“It’s the _L’Escaut_ anyway,” Captain Amery went on. “I can see the

-name on her bows. But I confess I don’t like that flag and that

-silence. I think I’ll see if I can wake her up.”

-

-He put his hand on the foghorn halliard and blew a number of

-resounding blasts. For a few seconds nothing happened, then suddenly

-two figures appeared at the deckhouse door, and after a moment’s

-pause, rushed up on the bridge and began waving furiously. As they

-passed up the bridge ladder they came from behind the shelter of a

-boat and their silhouettes became visible against the sky. They were

-both women!

-

-A strangled cry burst from Cheyne as he snatched the captain’s

-telescope and gazed at them, then with a shout of “It’s she! It’s

-she!” he leaped to the end of the bridge and began waving his hat

-frantically.

-

-At this moment two other figures appeared on the fo’c’sle and,

-apparently moving to the vessel’s side, stood watching the newcomers.

-Amery rang his engines down to half speed and, slightly porting his

-helm, headed for some distance astern of the other. Then starboarding,

-he swung round, and bringing up parallel to her and some couple of

-hundred yards away, he dropped anchor.

-

-Without loss of a moment a boat was lowered, and French, Cheyne,

-Price, the first officer, and a half dozen men, all armed with service

-revolvers, tumbled in. Giving way lustily, they pulled for the

-Belgian.

-

-It was by this time possible to distinguish the features of the women,

-and French was not surprised to learn they were Joan Merrill and Susan

-Dangle. Evidently they recognized Cheyne, who kept waving furiously as

-if he found the movement necessary to relieve his overwrought

-feelings. The two figures forward were those of men, and these stood

-watching the boat, though without exhibiting any of the transports of

-delight of their fellow shipmates on the bridge.

-

-As they drew closer Joan made signs to them to go round to the other

-side of the ship, and dropping round her stern they saw a ladder

-rigged. In a few seconds they were alongside, and Cheyne, leaping out

-before the others, rushed up the steps and reached the deck.

-

-If there had been any doubts as to the real relations between himself

-and Joan, these were set at rest at that moment. Instinctively he

-opened his arms, and Joan, swept off her feet by her emotion, threw

-herself into them and clung to him, while tears of joy and relief ran

-down her cheeks. As far as Cheyne was concerned, Susan Dangle, the

-figures on the fo’c’sle, French, and the men behind him might as well

-not have existed. He crushed Joan violently to him, covering her face

-and hair with burning kisses, as he murmured brokenly of his love and

-of his thankfulness for her safety.

-

-French, anxious to learn the state of affairs and seeing nothing was

-to be got from Joan, turned expectantly to Susan Dangle. What could

-these unexpected developments mean? Was Susan, the enemy, now a

-friend? Where were the others? Were the ship’s company friends or

-foes? Could he ask her questions which might incriminate her without

-giving her a formal warning?

-

-But his curiosity would brook no delay.

-

-“I am Inspector French of Scotland Yard,” he announced, while Price

-and the first officer stood round expectantly. “You are Miss Susan

-Dangle. Where are the other members of this expedition?”

-

-The girl wrung her hands, and he noticed how terribly pale and drawn

-was her face and what horror shone in her eyes.

-

-“Oh!” she cried, with a gesture as if to shut out the sight of some

-hideous dream. “Oh, it’s been awful! I can’t speak of it. They’re

-dead! My brother James, Charles Sime, Mr. Merkel, most of the crew,

-dead—all dead! Mr. Blessington wounded—probably dying! They got

-fighting over the gold!” She began suddenly to laugh, a terrible high

-cackling laugh, that made her hearers shiver, and attracted the

-attention even of Joan and Cheyne.

-

-French stepped quickly forward and seized her arm.

-

-“There now, Miss Dangle,” he said kindly but firmly. “Stop that and

-pull yourself together. Your terrible experiences are over now and

-you’re in the hands of friends. But you mustn’t give way like this.

-Make an effort, and you’ll be better directly.” He led her to a

-hatchway and made her sit down, while he continued soothing her as one

-would a fractious child.

-

-But so great was the agitation of both girls that it was quite a

-considerable time before the tragic tale of the _L’Escaut’s_

-expedition became fully unfolded. And when at last it was told it

-proved still but one more illustration of the old truth that the

-qualities of greed and envy and selfishness have that seed of decay

-within themselves which leads their unhappy victims to overreach

-themselves, and instead of gaining what they seek, to lose their all.

-Shorn of incoherent phrases and irrelevant details the story was this.

-

-On the 24th of May the _L’Escaut_ had left Antwerp with twenty-eight

-souls aboard. Aft there were Joan, Susan, Blessington, Sime, Dangle,

-and Merkel, with the captain, first officer, and engineer—nine

-persons, while forward were three divers, six assistants, a cook, a

-steward, four seamen, and four engine-room staff, or nineteen

-altogether. Once clear of the Scheldt Joan’s treatment had changed.

-Her food was no longer drugged, and when in a few days she got over

-the effects of the doses she had received, she found her jailers

-polite and friendly and anxious to minimize the inconvenience and

-anxiety she was suffering. They told her they did not wish her evil,

-and were taking her with them simply to prevent information as to

-themselves or their affairs leaking out through her. This, of course,

-she did not believe, since she did not possess sufficient information

-about them to enable her to interfere with their plans. But later

-their real motive dawned on her. Gradually she realized that

-Blessington had fallen in love with her, and though he was circumspect

-enough, her distrust of him was such that she felt sick with horror

-and dread when she thought of him. Nothing, however, had occurred to

-which she could take exception, and had it not been for her fears as

-to her own fate and her anxieties as to Cheyne’s, the voyage would

-have been pleasant enough.

-

-The _L’Escaut_ was a fast boat, and four days had brought them to the

-spot referred to in the cipher. After three days’ search they found

-the wreck, and all three divers had at once gone down. A week was

-spent in making an examination of the vessel, at the end of which time

-they had located the gold. It was in her stern, low down and not far

-from her port side. The divers recommended blowing her plates off at

-this spot, and ten days more sufficed for this. Through the hole thus

-made the divers were able to draw in tackle lowered from the

-_L’Escaut_, and the ingots of gold were slung to cradles and drawn up

-with really wonderful ease and speed. They had, moreover, been favored

-with a peculiarly fine stretch of weather, work having to be suspended

-on only eight days of the thirty-seven they were there.

-

-On reaching the wreck in the first instance the captain had mustered

-his crew aft and had informed them—what he could no longer keep

-secret—that they were out for gold, and that if they found it in the

-quantities they hoped, every man on board would receive at the end of

-the trip a gift of £1,000 in addition to his pay. The men at first

-seemed more than satisfied, but as ingot after ingot was recovered the

-generosity of the offer shrank in their estimation. Four days before

-the appearance of French’s party the divers had reported that another

-day would complete the work, and then appeared the first hint that all

-was not well. On that last evening before the completion of the diving

-the men came forward in a body and asked to see the captain. They

-explained that they had been reckoning up the value of the gold, and

-they weren’t having £1,000 apiece: they wanted an even divide all

-round. The captain argued with them civilly enough at first—told them

-that they couldn’t get the metal ashore and turned into money in

-secret, that the port officers or coastguards wherever it was unloaded

-would be bound to learn what they were doing and that then the

-government would claim an enormous percentage of the whole, so that

-the £1,000 per man was an extremely liberal gift. The men declared

-that they would look after the unloading, and that they were going to

-have what they wanted. Hot words passed, and then the captain drew a

-revolver and said that he was captain there, and that what he said

-would go. Susan was watching the scene from the quarter-deck behind,

-but she could not be quite sure of what followed. One of the crew

-pressed forward and the captain raised his revolver. She did not think

-he meant to fire, but another of the men either genuinely or purposely

-misunderstood his action. He raised his hand, a shot rang out, and the

-captain fell dead. The mutineers were evidently terribly upset by a

-murder which they had apparently never intended, and had Blessington

-and Sime acted intelligently, the trouble might have gone no further.

-But at that moment these two worthies, who must have been in the

-chart-house all the time, began firing through the windows at the men.

-A regular pitched battle ensued, in which Sime and five of the crew

-were hit, three of the latter being killed. It was then war to the

-knife between those who berthed forward and those who berthed aft. All

-that night sporadic shots rang out at intervals, but at daybreak on

-the following day matters came to a head. The crew with considerable

-generalship made a feint on the fo’c’sle with some of their number

-while the remainder swarmed aft below decks. The defenders, taken in

-the rear, were shot down, and the mutineers were masters of the ship.

-

-All that next day Joan and Susan, terror-stricken, clung to each other

-in the latter’s cabin. The men were reasonably civil: told them they

-might get themselves food, and let them alone. But that night a

-further terrible quarrel burst out between, as they learned

-afterwards, those who wished to murder the girls and go off with the

-treasure and those who feared murder more than the loss of the gold.

-Once again there were the reports of shots and the groans of wounded

-men. The fusillade went on at intervals all night, until next morning

-one of the divers—a superior man with whom the girls had often

-talked—had come in with his head covered with blood, and asked the

-girls to bandage it. Susan had some slight surgical knowledge, and did

-what she could for him. Then the man told them that of the entire

-ship’s company only themselves and seven others were alive, and that

-of these seven four were so badly wounded that they would probably not

-recover. Among these was Blessington. Sime and James Dangle were dead.

-

-The slightly injured men threw the dead overboard and cleaned up the

-traces of the fighting, while the girls ministered to the seriously

-wounded. Of course, in the three days up till the arrival of the

-avengers—who had by a strange trick of fate become the rescuers—one

-man had died. Of the eight-and-twenty who sailed from Antwerp there

-were therefore left only nine: the two girls and four slightly and

-three seriously wounded men. None of those able to move understood

-either engineering or seamanship, so that they had luckily decided to

-remain at anchor in the hope of some ship picking up their flag of

-distress.

-

-“There is just one thing I should like to understand,” said Cheyne to

-Joan, when later on that day a prize crew had been put aboard the

-_L’Escaut_ and steam was being raised for the return to England, “and

-that is what happened to you on the night that we burgled Earlswood.

-You got back to your rooms, then left again with Sime and

-Blessington?”

-

-“There’s not much to tell about that,” Joan answered, smiling happily

-up into her lover’s eyes. “I was, as you know, standing like a

-watchman before the door of Earlswood, when I saw Susan and her

-brother coming up. I rang and knocked and kept them talking as long as

-possible. Then when they opened the door I slipped away, but I heard

-your footsteps and realized that you had got out by the back way. I

-heard you run off down the lane with Dangle after you, then

-remembering your arrangement about throwing away the tracing, I

-climbed over the wall, picked it up and went back to my rooms. The

-first thing I did was to photograph it, then I hid it in my color box.

-I had scarcely done so when Sime called. He said you had met with an

-accident—been caught between two motorcars and knocked down by one of

-them—and that you were seriously injured. He said you were conscious

-and had given him my address and were calling for me. I went down to

-find Blessington driving a car, though I didn’t know then it was

-Blessington. As soon as we started Sime held a chloroformed cloth over

-my mouth, and I don’t remember much more till we were on the

-_L’Escaut_.”

-

-“But how did Sime find your rooms?”

-

-“Through Susan. Susan told me all about it afterwards. She went out

-after James and saw me climbing over the wall with the tracing. She

-followed me to my rooms and immediately telephoned to Sime. When Sime

-called she was with him, and while I changed my coat Sime let her into

-the studio and she hid behind an easel until we were gone. She

-searched till she found the tracing and then simply walked out. The

-gang had intended to go to Antwerp the following week in any case, but

-this business upset their plans and they decided to start immediately.

-Dangle went on and arranged for the _L’Escaut_ to leave some days

-earlier. The rest of us put up at Ghent till she was ready to sail.”

-But little further remains to be told. The few bars of gold still left

-on the _Silurian_ were soon raised and the two ships set sail,

-reaching Chatham some five days later. All the bullion theoretically

-belonged to the Crown, but under the special circumstances a generous

-division was made whereby twenty-five per cent was returned to the

-finders. As Price refused to accept the whole amount an amicable

-agreement was come to, whereby Cheyne, Joan, and Price each received

-almost one-third, or £200,000 apiece. Of the balance of over £20,000,

-£10,000 was given to Susan Dangle by Joan’s imperative directions. She

-said that Susan was not a bad girl and had turned up trumps during the

-trouble on the _L’Escaut_. £1,000 went to Inspector French—also Joan’s

-gift, and the remainder was divided among the officers and men of the

-Admiralty salvage boat.

-

-A few days after landing Maxwell Cheyne and Joan Merrill had occasion

-to pay a short visit to the church of St. Margaret’s in the Fields,

-after which Cheyne whirled his wife away to Devonshire, so that she

-might make the acquaintance of his family and see the country where

-began that strange series of events which in the beginning of the

-story I alluded to as THE CHEYNE MYSTERY.

-

-

-

-Transcriber’s Note

-

-This transcription follows the text of the Penguin Books edition

-published in 1978. The following alterations have been made to correct

-what are believed to be unambiguous printer’s errors.

-

- * Five erroneous quotation marks have been repaired.

- * “desparate” has been changed to “desperate” (Ch. II).

- * “wondered it he” has been changed to “wondered if he” (Ch. II).

- * “Chayne” has been changed to “Cheyne” (Chs. IX and X).

- * “Walting Street” has been changed to “Watling Street” (Ch. X).

- * “noncommital” has been changed to “noncommittal” (Ch. XIV).

- * “pessmist” has been changed to “pessimist” (Ch. XV).

- * “Sargeant” has been changed to “Sergeant” (Ch. XVI).

- * “similiar” has been changed to “similar” (Ch. XVII).

-

-

-

+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHEYNE MYSTERY ***
+
+
+The Cheyne Mystery
+
+by Freeman Wills Crofts
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+  1  The Episode in the Plymouth Hotel
+  2  Burglary!
+  3  The Launch “Enid”
+  4  Concerning a Peerage
+  5  An Amateur Sleuth
+  6  The House in Hopefield Avenue
+  7  Miss Joan Merrill
+  8  A Council of War
+  9  Mr. Speedwell Plays His Hand
+ 10  The New Firm Gets Busy
+ 11  Otto Schulz’s Secret
+ 12  In the Enemy’s Lair
+ 13  Inspector French Takes Charge
+ 14  The Clue of the Clay-marked Shoe
+ 15  The Torn Hotel Bill
+ 16  A Tale of Two Cities
+ 17  On the Flood Tide
+ 18  A Visitor from India
+ 19  The Message of the Tracing
+ 20  The Goal of the “L’Escaut”
+
+
+
+Chapter I
+
+The Episode in the Plymouth Hotel
+
+When the White Rabbit in _Alice_ asked where he should begin to read
+the verses at the Knave’s trial the King replied: “Begin at the
+beginning; go on till you come to the end; then stop.”
+
+This would seem to be the last word on the subject of narration in
+general. For the novelist no dictum more entirely complete and
+satisfactory can be imagined—in theory. But in practice it is hard to
+live up to.
+
+Where is the beginning of a story? Where is the beginning of anything?
+No one knows.
+
+When I set myself to consider the actual beginning of Maxwell Cheyne’s
+adventure, I saw at once I should have to go back to Noah. Indeed I
+was not at all sure whether the thing could be adequately explained
+unless I carried back the narrative to Adam, or even further. For
+Cheyne’s adventure hinged not only on his own character and
+environment, brought about by goodness knows how many thousands of
+generations of ancestors, but also upon the contemporaneous history of
+the world, crystallized in the happening of the Great War and all that
+appertained thereto.
+
+So then, in default of the true beginning, let us commence with the
+character and environment of Maxwell Cheyne, following on with the
+strange episode which took place in the Edgecombe Hotel in Plymouth,
+and from which started that extraordinary series of events which I
+have called The Cheyne Mystery.
+
+Maxwell Cheyne was born in 1891, so that when his adventure began in
+the month of March, 1920, he was just twenty-nine. His father was a
+navy man, commander of one of His Majesty’s smaller cruisers, and from
+him the boy presumably inherited his intense love of the sea and of
+adventure. Captain Cheyne had Irish blood in his veins and exhibited
+some of the characteristics of that irritating though lovable race. He
+was a man of brilliant attainments, resourceful, dashing, spirited
+and, moreover, a fine seaman, but a certain impetuosity, amounting at
+times to recklessness, just prevented his attaining the highest rank
+in his profession. In character he was as straight as a die, and
+kindly, generous, and openhanded to a fault, but he was improvident
+and inclined to live too much in the present. And these
+characteristics were destined to affect his son’s life, not only
+directly through heredity, but indirectly through environment also.
+
+When Maxwell was nine his father died suddenly, and then it was found
+that the commander had been living up to his income and had made but
+scant provision for his widow and son and daughter. Dreams of Harrow
+and Cambridge had to be abandoned and, instead, the boy was educated
+at the local grammar school, and then entered the office of a
+Fenchurch Street shipping firm as junior clerk.
+
+In his twentieth year the family fortunes were again reversed. His
+mother came in for a legacy from an uncle, a sheep farmer in
+Australia. It was not a fortune, but it meant a fairly substantial
+competence. Mrs. Cheyne bought back Warren Lodge, their old home, a
+small Georgian house standing in pleasant grounds on the estuary of
+the Dart. Maxwell thereupon threw up his job at the shipping office,
+followed his mother to Devonshire, and settled down to the leisurely
+life of a country gentleman. Among other hobbies he dabbled
+spasmodically in literature, producing a couple of novels, one of
+which was published and sold with fair success.
+
+But the sea was in his blood. He bought a yacht, and with the help of
+the gardener’s son, Dan, sailed her in fair weather and foul, thereby
+gaining skill and judgment in things nautical, as well as a first-hand
+knowledge of the shores and tides and currents of the western portion
+of the English Channel.
+
+Thus it came to pass that when, three years after the return to Devon,
+the war broke out, he volunteered for the navy and was at once
+accepted. There he served with enthusiasm if not with distinction,
+gaining very much the reputation which his father had held before him.
+During the intensive submarine campaign he was wounded in an action
+with a U-boat, which resulted in his being invalided out of the
+service. On demobilization he returned home and took up his former
+pursuits of yachting, literature, and generally having as slack and
+easy a time as his energetic nature would allow. Some eighteen months
+passed, and then occurred the incident which might be said definitely
+to begin his Adventure.
+
+One damp and bleak March day Cheyne set out for Plymouth from Warren
+Lodge, his home on the estuary of the Dart. He wished to make a number
+of small purchases, and his mother and sister had entrusted him with
+commissions. Also he desired to consult his banker as to some question
+of investments. With a full program before him he pulled on his
+oilskins, and having assured his mother he would be back in time for
+dinner, he mounted his motor bicycle and rode off.
+
+In due course he reached Plymouth, left his machine at a garage, and
+set about his business. About one o’clock he gravitated towards the
+Edgecombe Hotel, where after a cocktail he sat down in the lounge to
+rest for a few minutes before lunch.
+
+He was looking idly over _The Times_ when the voice of a page broke in
+on his thoughts.
+
+“Gentleman to see you, sir.”
+
+The card which the boy held out bore in fine script the legend: “Mr.
+Hubert Parkes, Oakleigh, Cleeve Hill, Cheltenham.” Cheyne pondered,
+but he could not recall anyone of the name, and it passed through his
+mind that the page had probably made a mistake.
+
+“Where is he?” he asked.
+
+“Here sir,” the boy answered, and a short, stoutly built man of middle
+age with fair hair and a toothbrush mustache stepped forward. A glance
+assured Cheyne that he was a stranger.
+
+“Mr. Maxwell Cheyne?” the newcomer inquired politely.
+
+“My name, sir. Won’t you sit down?” Cheyne pulled an easy chair over
+towards his own.
+
+“I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you before, Mr. Cheyne,” the
+other went on as he seated himself, “though I knew your father fairly
+intimately. I lived for many years at Valetta, running the Maltese end
+of a produce company with which I was then connected, and I met him
+when his ship was stationed there. A great favorite, Captain Cheyne
+was! The dull old club used to brighten up when he came in, and it
+seemed a national loss when his ship was withdrawn to another
+station.”
+
+“I remember his being in Malta,” Cheyne returned, “though I was quite
+a small boy at the time. My mother has a photograph of Valetta,
+showing his ship lying in the Grand Harbor.”
+
+They chatted about Malta and produce company work therein for some
+minutes, and then Mr. Parkes said:
+
+“Now, Mr. Cheyne, though it is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of
+the son of my old friend, it was not merely with that object that I
+introduced myself. I have, as a matter of fact, a definite piece of
+business which I should like to discuss with you. It takes the form of
+a certain proposition of which I would invite your acceptance, I hope,
+to our mutual advantage.”
+
+Cheyne, somewhat surprised, murmured polite expressions of anxiety to
+hear details and the other went on:
+
+“I think before I explain the thing fully another small matter wants
+to be attended to. What about a little lunch? I’m just going to have
+mine and I shall take it as a favor if you will join me. After that we
+could talk business.”
+
+Cheyne readily agreed and the other called over a waiter and gave him
+an order. “Let us have a cocktail,” he went on, “and by that time
+lunch will be ready.”
+
+They strolled to the bar and there partook of a wonderful American
+concoction recommended by the young lady in charge. Presently the
+waiter reappeared and led the way, somewhat to Cheyne’s surprise, to a
+private room. There an excellent repast was served, to which both men
+did full justice. Parkes proved an agreeable and well informed
+companion and Cheyne enjoyed his conversation. The newcomer had, it
+appeared, seen a good deal of war service, having held the rank of
+major in the department of supply, serving first at Gallipoli and then
+at Salonica. Cheyne knew the latter port, his ship having called there
+on three or four occasions, and the two men found they had various
+experiences in common. Time passed pleasantly until at last Parkes
+drew a couple of arm chairs up to the fire, ordered coffee, and held
+out his cigar case.
+
+“With your permission I’ll put my little proposition now. It is in
+connection with your literary work and I’m afraid it’s bound to sound
+a trifle impertinent. But I can assure you it’s not meant to be so.”
+
+Cheyne smiled.
+
+“You needn’t be afraid of hurting my feelings,” he declared. “I have a
+notion of the real value of my work. Get along anyway and let’s hear.”
+
+Parkes resumed with some hesitation.
+
+“I have to say first that I have read everything that you have
+published and I am immensely impressed by your style. I think you do
+your descriptions extraordinarily well. Your scenes are vivid and one
+feels that one is living through them. There’s money in that, Mr.
+Cheyne, in that gift of vivid and interest-compelling presentation.
+You should make a good thing out of short stories. I’ve worked at them
+for years and I know.”
+
+“Huh. I haven’t found much money in it.”
+
+Parkes nodded.
+
+“I know you haven’t, or rather I guessed so. And if you don’t mind,
+I’ll tell you why.” He sat up and a keener interest crept into his
+manner. “There’s a fault in those stories of yours, a bad fault, and
+it’s in the construction. But let’s leave that for the moment and
+you’ll see where all this is leading.”
+
+He broke off as a waiter arrived with the coffee, resuming:
+
+“Now I have a strong dramatic sense and a good working knowledge of
+literary construction. As I said I’ve also tried short stories, and
+though they’ve not been an absolute failure, I couldn’t say they’ve
+been really successful. On the whole, I should think, yours have done
+better. And I know why. It’s my style. I try to produce a tale, say,
+of a shipwreck. It is intended to be full of human feeling, to grip
+the reader’s emotion. But it doesn’t. It reads like a Board of Trade
+report. Dry, you understand; not interesting. Now, Mr. Cheyne,” he sat
+up in his chair once more, this time almost in excitement, “you see
+what I’m coming to. Why should we not collaborate? Let me do the plots
+and you clothe them. Between us we have all the essentials for
+success.”
+
+He sat back and then saw the coffee.
+
+“I say,” he exclaimed, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t notice this had come.
+I hope it’s not cold.” He felt the coffee pot. “What about a liquor?
+I’ll ring for one. Or rather,” he paused suddenly. “I think I’ve got
+something perhaps even better here.” He put his hand in his pocket and
+drew out a small flask. “Old Cognac,” he said. “You’ll try a little?”
+
+He poured some of the golden brown liquid into Cheyne’s cup and was
+about to do the same into his own when he was seized with a sudden fit
+of choking coughing. He had to put down the flask while he quivered
+and shook with the paroxysm. Presently he recovered, breathless.
+
+“Since I was wounded,” he gasped apologetically, “I’ve been taken like
+that. The doctors say it’s purely nervous—that my throat and lungs and
+so on are perfectly sound. Strange the different ways this war leaves
+its mark!”
+
+He picked up the flask, poured a liberal measure of its contents into
+his own cup, drank off the contents with evident relish and continued:
+
+“What I had in my mind, if you’ll consider it, was a series of short
+stories—say a dozen—on the merchant marine in the war. This is the
+spring of 1920. Soon no one will read anything connected with the war,
+but I think that time has scarcely come yet. I have fair knowledge of
+the subject and yours of course is first hand. What do you say? I will
+supply twelve plots or incidents and you will clothe them with, say,
+five thousand words each. We shall sell them to _The Strand_ or some
+of those monthlies, and afterwards publish them as a collection in
+book form.”
+
+“By Jove!” Cheyne said as he slowly sipped his coffee. “The idea’s
+rather tempting. But I wish I could feel as sure as you seem to do
+about my own style. I’m afraid I don’t believe that it is as good as
+you pretend.”
+
+“Mr. Cheyne,” Parkes answered deliberately, “you may take my word for
+it that I know what I am talking about. I shouldn’t have come to you
+if I weren’t sure. Very few people are satisfied with their own work.
+No matter how good it is it falls short of the standard they have set
+in their minds. It is another case in which the outsider sees most of
+the game.”
+
+Cheyne felt attracted by the proposal. He had written in all seventeen
+short stories, and of these only three had been accepted, and those by
+inferior magazines. If it would lead to success he would be only too
+delighted to collaborate with this pleasant stranger. It wasn’t so
+much the money—though he was not such a fool as to make light of that
+part of it. It was success he wanted, acceptance of his stuff by good
+periodicals, a name and a standing among his fellow craftsmen.
+
+“Let’s see what it would mean,” he heard Parkes’s voice, and it seemed
+strangely faint and distant. “I suppose, given the synopses, you could
+finish a couple of tales per week—say, six weeks for the lot. And with
+luck we should sell for £50 to £100 each—say £500 for your six week’s
+work, or nearly £100 per week. And there might be any amount more for
+the book rights, filming and so on. Does the idea appeal to you, Mr.
+Cheyne?”
+
+Cheyne did not reply. He was feeling sleepy. Did the idea appeal to
+him? Yes. No. Did it? Did the idea . . . the idea . . . Drat this
+sleepiness! What was he thinking of? Did the idea . . . What
+idea? . . . He gave up the struggle and, leaning back in his chair,
+sank into a profound and dreamless slumber.
+
+Ages of time passed and Cheyne slowly struggled back into
+consciousness. As soon as he was sufficiently awake to analyze his
+sensations he realized that his brain was dull and clouded and his
+limbs heavy as lead. He was, however, physically comfortable, and he
+was content to allow his body to remain relaxed and motionless and his
+mind to dream idly on without conscious thought. But his energy
+gradually returned and at last he opened his eyes.
+
+He was lying, dressed, on a bed in a strange room. Apparently it was
+night, for the room was dark save for the light on the window blind
+which seemed to come from a street lamp without. Vaguely interested,
+he closed his eyes again, and when he reopened them the room was
+lighted up and a man was standing beside the bed.
+
+“Ah,” the man said, “you’re awake. Better, I hope?”
+
+“I don’t know,” Cheyne answered, and it seemed to him as if some one
+else was speaking. “Have I been ill?”
+
+“No,” the man returned, “Not that I know of. But you’ve slept like a
+log for nearly six hours.”
+
+This was confusing. Cheyne paused to take in the idea, but it eluded
+him, then giving up the effort, he asked another question.
+
+“Where am I?”
+
+“In the Edgecombe: the Edgecombe Hotel, you know, in Plymouth. I am
+the manager.”
+
+Ah, yes! It was coming back to him. He had gone there for lunch—was it
+today or a century ago?—and he had met that literary man—what was his
+name? He couldn’t remember. And they had had lunch and the man had
+made some suggestion about his writing. Yes, of course! It was all
+coming back now. The man had wanted to collaborate with him. And
+during the conversation he had suddenly felt sleepy. He supposed he
+must have fallen asleep then, for he remembered nothing more. But why
+had he felt sleepy like that? Suddenly his brain cleared and he sat up
+sharply.
+
+“What’s happened, Mr. Jesse? I never did anything like this before!”
+
+“No?” the manager answered. “I dare say not. I’ll tell you what has
+happened to you, Mr. Cheyne, though I’m sorry to have to admit it
+could have taken place in my hotel. You’ve been drugged. That’s what
+has happened.”
+
+Cheyne stared incredulously.
+
+“Good Lord!” he ejaculated. “Drugged! By—not by that literary man,
+surely?” He paused in amazed consternation and then his hand flew to
+his pocket. “My money,” he gasped. “I had over £100 in my pocket. Just
+got it at the bank.” He drew out a pocket-book and examined it
+hurriedly. “No,” he went on more quietly. “It’s all right.” He took
+from it a bundle of notes and with care counted them. “A hundred and
+eight pounds. That’s quite correct. My watch? No, it’s here.” He got
+up unsteadily, and rapidly went through his pockets. “Nothing missing
+anyway. Are you sure I was drugged? I don’t understand the thing a
+little bit.”
+
+“I am afraid there is no doubt about it. You seemed so ill that I sent
+for a doctor. He said you were suffering from the effects of a drug,
+but were in no danger and would be all right in a few hours. He
+advised that you be left quietly to sleep it off.”
+
+Cheyne rubbed his hand over his eyes.
+
+“I can’t understand it,” he repeated. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
+
+“About three o’clock or shortly before it, Mr. Parkes appeared at the
+office and asked for his bill. He paid it, complimented the clerk on
+the excellent lunch he had had, and left the hotel. He was perfectly
+calm and collected and quite unhurried. Shortly after the waiter went
+up to clear away the things and he found you lying back in your chair,
+apparently asleep, but breathing so heavily that he was uneasy and he
+came and told me. I went up at once and was also rather alarmed at
+your condition, so I sent at once for the doctor.”
+
+“But,” Cheyne objected, “that’s all right, only I _wasn’t_ drugged. I
+know exactly what I ate and drank, and Parkes had precisely the same.
+If I was drugged, he must have been also, and you say he wasn’t.”
+
+“He certainly was not. But think again, Mr. Cheyne. Are you really
+quite certain that he had no opportunity of putting powder over your
+food or liquid into your drink? Did he divert your attention at any
+time from the table?”
+
+Cheyne was silent. He had remembered the flask of old brandy.
+
+“He put cognac in my coffee from his own flask,” he admitted at
+length, “but it couldn’t have been that.”
+
+“Ah,” the manager answered in a satisfied tone, “it _was_ that, I
+should swear. Why don’t you think so?”
+
+“I’ll tell you why I don’t think so; why, in fact, I know it wasn’t.
+He put an even larger dose out of the same flask into his own cup and
+he drank his coffee before I drank mine. So that if there was anything
+in the flask he would have got knocked over first.”
+
+The manager looked puzzled.
+
+“Don’t think me discourteous, Mr. Cheyne, but I confess I have my
+doubts about that. That episode of the flask looks too suspicious. Are
+you sure it was the same flask in each case? Did he pour straight into
+one cup after the other or was there an interval in between? You
+realize of course that a clever conjurer could substitute a second
+flask for the first without attracting your notice?”
+
+“I realize that right enough, but I am positive he didn’t do so in
+this case. Though,” he paused for a moment, “that reminds me that
+there was an interval between pouring into each cup. He got a fit of
+coughing after giving me mine and had to put down the flask. But when
+the paroxysm was over he lifted it again and helped himself.”
+
+“There you are,” the manager declared. “During his fit of coughing he
+substituted a different flask.”
+
+“I’ll swear he didn’t. But can’t we settle the thing beyond doubt?
+Have the cups been washed? If not, can’t we get the dregs analyzed?”
+
+“I have already asked the doctor to have it done. He said he would get
+Mr. Pringle to do it at once: that’s the city analyst. They’re close
+friends, and Mr. Pringle would do it to oblige him. We should have his
+report quite soon. I am also having him analyze the remains on the
+plates which were used. Fortunately, owing to lunch being served in a
+private room, these had been stacked together and none had been
+washed. So we should be able to settle the matter quite definitely.”
+
+Cheyne nodded as he glanced at his watch. “Good Lord!” he cried, “it’s
+eight o’clock and I said I should be home by seven! I must ring up my
+mother or she’ll think something is wrong.”
+
+The Cheynes had not themselves a telephone, but their nearest
+neighbors, people called Hazelton, were good-natured about receiving
+an occasional message through theirs and transmitting it to Warren
+Lodge. Cheyne went down to the lounge and put through his call,
+explaining to Mrs. Hazelton that unforeseen circumstances had
+necessitated his remaining overnight in Plymouth. The lady promised to
+have the message conveyed to Mrs. Cheyne and Maxwell rang off. Then as
+he turned to the dining room, a page told him that the manager would
+like to see him in his office.
+
+“I’ve just got a report from the doctor about that coffee, Mr.
+Cheyne,” the other greeted him, “and I must say it confirms what you
+say, though it by no means clears up the mystery. There was brandy in
+those cups, but no drug: no trace of a drug in either.”
+
+“I knew that,” Cheyne rejoined. “Everything that I had for lunch
+Parkes had also. I was there and I ought to know. But it’s a bit
+unsettling, isn’t it? Looks as if my heart or something had gone
+wrong.”
+
+The manager looked at him more seriously. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he
+dissented. “I don’t think you can assume that. The doctor seemed quite
+satisfied. But if it would ease your mind, why not slip across now and
+see him? He lives just round the corner.”
+
+Cheyne reflected.
+
+“I’ll do so,” he answered presently. “If there’s nothing wrong it will
+prevent me fancying things, and if there is I should know of it. I’ll
+have some dinner and then go across. By the way, have you said
+anything to the police?”
+
+The manager hesitated.
+
+“No, I have not. I don’t know that we’ve evidence enough. But in any
+case, Mr. Cheyne, I trust you do not wish to call in the police.” The
+manager seemed quite upset by the idea and spoke earnestly. “It would
+not do the hotel any good if it became known that a visitor had been
+drugged. I sincerely trust, sir, that you can see your way to keep the
+matter quiet.”
+
+Cheyne stared.
+
+“But you surely don’t suggest that I should take the thing lying down?
+If I have been drugged, as you say, I must know who has done it, and
+why. That would seem to me obvious.”
+
+“I agree,” the manager admitted, “and I should feel precisely the same
+in your place. But it is not necessary to apply to the police. A
+private detective would get you the information quite as well. See
+here, Mr. Cheyne, I will make you an offer. If you will agree to the
+affair being hushed up, I will employ the detective on behalf of the
+hotel. He will work under your direction and keep you advised of every
+step he takes. Come now, sir, is it a bargain?”
+
+Cheyne did not hesitate.
+
+“Why, yes,” he said promptly, “that will suit me all right. I don’t
+specially want to advertise the fact that I have been made a fool of.
+But I’d like to know what has really happened.”
+
+“You shall, Mr. Cheyne. No stone shall be left unturned to get at the
+truth. I’ll see about a detective at once. You’ll have some dinner,
+sir?”
+
+Cheyne was not hungry, but he was very thirsty, and he had a light
+meal with a number of long drinks. Then he went round to see the
+doctor, to whom the manager had telephoned, making an appointment.
+
+After a thorough examination he received the verdict. It was a relief
+to his mind, but it did not tend to clear up the mystery. He was
+physically perfectly sound, and his sleep of the afternoon was not the
+result of disease or weakness. He had been drugged. That was the
+beginning and the end of the affair. The doctor was quite emphatic and
+ridiculed the idea of any other explanation.
+
+Cheyne returned to the Edgecombe, and sitting down in a deserted
+corner of the lounge, tried to puzzle the thing out. But the more he
+thought of it, the more mysterious it became. His mind up till then
+had been concentrated on the actual administration of the drug, and
+this point alone still seemed to constitute an insoluble problem. But
+now he saw that it was but a small part of the mystery. _Why_ had he
+been drugged? It was not robbery. Though he had over £100 in his
+pocket, the money was intact. He had no other valuables about him, and
+in any case nothing had been removed from his pockets. It was not to
+prevent his going to any place. He had not intended to do anything
+that afternoon that could possibly interest a stranger. No, he could
+form no conception of the motive.
+
+But even more puzzling than this was the question: How did Parkes, if
+that was really his name, know that he, Cheyne, was coming to Plymouth
+that day? It was true that he had mentioned it to his mother and
+sister a couple of days previously, but he had told no one else and he
+felt sure that neither had they. But the man had almost certainly been
+expecting him. At least it was hard to believe that the whole episode
+had been merely the fruits of a chance encounter. On the other hand
+there was the difficulty that any other suggestion seemed even more
+unlikely. Parkes simply _couldn’t_ have known that he, Cheyne, was
+coming. It was just inconceivable.
+
+He lay back in his deep armchair, the smoke of his pipe curling lazily
+up, as he racked his brains for some theory which would at least
+partially meet the facts. But without success. He could think of
+nothing which threw a gleam of light on the situation.
+
+And then he made a discovery which still further befogged him and made
+him swear with exasperation. He had taken out his pocket-book and was
+once more going through its contents to make absolutely sure nothing
+was missing, when he came to a piece of folded paper bearing memoranda
+about the money matters which he had discussed with his banker. He had
+not opened this when he had looked through the book after regaining
+consciousness, but now half absent-mindedly he unfolded it. As he did
+so he stared. Near the crease was a slight tear, unquestionably made
+by some one unfolding it hurriedly or carelessly. But that tear had
+not been there when he had folded it up. He could swear to it. Someone
+therefore had been through his pockets while he was asleep.
+
+
+
+Chapter II
+
+Burglary!
+
+The discovery that his pockets had been gone through while he was
+under the influence of the drug reduced Cheyne to a state of even more
+complete mystification than ever. What _had_ the unknown been looking
+for? He, Cheyne, had nothing with him that, so far as he could
+imagine, could possibly have interested any other person. Indeed,
+money being ruled out, he did not know that he possessed anywhere any
+paper or small object which it would be worth a stranger’s while to
+steal.
+
+Novels he had read recurred to him in which desperate enterprises were
+undertaken to obtain some document of importance. Plans of naval or
+military inventions which would give world supremacy to the power
+possessing them were perhaps the favorite instruments in these
+romances, but treaties which would mean war if disclosed to the wrong
+power, maps of desert islands on which treasure was buried, wills of
+which the existence was generally unknown and letters compromising the
+good name of wealthy personages had all been used time and again. But
+Cheyne had no plans or treaties or compromising letters from which an
+astute thief might make capital. Think as he would, he could frame no
+theory to account for Parkes’s proceedings.
+
+He yawned and, getting up, began to pace the deserted lounge. The
+effects of the drug had not entirely worn off, for though he had slept
+all the afternoon he still felt slack and drowsy. In spite of its
+being scarcely ten o’clock, he thought he would have a whisky and go
+up to bed, in the hope that a good night’s rest would drive the poison
+out of his system and restore his usual feeling of mental and physical
+well-being.
+
+But Fate, once more in the guise of an approaching page, decreed
+otherwise. As he turned lazily towards the bar a voice sounded in his
+ear.
+
+“Wanted on the telephone, sir.”
+
+Cheyne crossed the hall and entered the booth.
+
+“Well?” he said shortly. “Cheyne speaking.”
+
+A woman’s voice replied, a voice he recognized. It belonged to Ethel
+Hazelton, the grown-up daughter of that Mrs. Hazelton whom he had
+asked to inform Mrs. Cheyne of his change of plans. She spoke
+hurriedly and he could sense perturbation in her tones.
+
+“Oh, Mr. Cheyne, I’m afraid I have rather disturbing news for you.
+When you rang up we sent James over to Warren Lodge. He found Mrs.
+Cheyne and Agatha on the doorstep trying to get in. They had been
+ringing for some time, but could not attract attention. He rang also,
+and then eventually found a ladder and got in through one of the upper
+windows. He opened the door for Mrs. Cheyne and Agatha. Can you hear
+me all right?”
+
+“Yes, clearly. Go on, please, Miss Hazelton.”
+
+“They searched the house and they discovered cook and Susan in their
+bedrooms, both tied up and gagged, but otherwise none the worse. They
+released them, of course, and then found that the house had been
+burgled.”
+
+“Burgled!” Cheyne ejaculated sharply. “Great Scott!” He was
+considerably startled and paused in some consternation, asking then if
+much stuff was missing.
+
+“They don’t know,” the distant voice answered. “Your safe had been
+opened, but they hadn’t had time to make an examination when James
+left. The silver seems to be all there, so that’s something. James
+came back here with a message from Mrs. Cheyne asking us to let you
+know, and I have been ringing up hotels in Plymouth for the last half
+hour. You know, you only said you were staying the night in your
+message; you didn’t say where. Mrs. Cheyne would like you to come back
+if you can manage it.”
+
+There was no hesitation about Cheyne’s reply.
+
+“Of course I shall,” he said quickly. “I’ll start at once on my
+bicycle. What about telling the police?”
+
+“I rang them up immediately. They said they would go out at once.
+James has gone back also. He will stay and lend a hand until you
+arrive.”
+
+“Splendid! It’s more than good of you both, Miss Hazelton. I can’t
+thank you enough. I’ll be there in less than an hour.”
+
+He delayed only to tell the news to the manager.
+
+“There’s the explanation of this afternoon’s affair at all events,” he
+declared. “I was evidently fixed up so that I couldn’t butt in and
+spoil sport. But it’s good-bye to your keeping it quiet. The police
+have been called in already and the whole thing is bound to come out.”
+
+The manager made a gesture of concern.
+
+“I’m sorry to hear your news,” he said gravely. “Are you properly
+insured?”
+
+“Partially. I don’t know if it will cover the loss because I don’t
+know what’s gone. But I must be getting away.”
+
+He was moving off, but the manager laid a detaining hand on his arm.
+
+“Well, I’m extremely sorry about it. But see here, Mr. Cheyne, it may
+not prove to be necessary to bring in about the drugging. It would
+injure the hotel. I sincerely trust you’ll do what you can in the
+matter, and if you find the private detective sufficient, you’ll let
+our arrangement stand.”
+
+“I’ll decide when I hear just what has happened. You’ll let me have a
+copy of the analyst’s report?”
+
+“Of course. Directly I get it I shall send it on.”
+
+Fifteen minutes later Cheyne was passing through the outskirts of
+Plymouth on his way east. The night was fine, the mists of the day
+having cleared away, and a three-quarter moon shone brilliantly out of
+a blue-black sky. Keenly anxious to reach home and learn the details
+of the burglary and the extent of his loss, Cheyne crammed on every
+ounce of power, and his machine snored along the deserted road at well
+over forty miles an hour. In spite of slacks for villages and curves
+he made a record run, turning into the gate of Warren Lodge at just
+ten minutes before eleven.
+
+As he approached the house everything looked normal. But when he let
+himself in this impression was dispelled, for a constable stood in the
+hall, who, saluting, informed him that Sergeant Kirby was within and
+in charge.
+
+But Cheyne’s first concern was with his mother and sister. An inquiry
+produced the information that the two ladies were waiting for him in
+the drawing room, and thither he at once betook himself.
+
+Mrs. Cheyne was a frail little woman who looked ten years older than
+her age of something under sixty. She welcomed her son with a little
+cry of pleasure.
+
+“Oh, I am relieved to see you, Maxwell,” she cried. “I’m so glad you
+were able to come. Isn’t this a terrible business?”
+
+“I don’t know, mother,” Cheyne answered cheerily, “that depends. I
+hear no one is any the worse. Has much stuff been stolen?”
+
+“Nothing!” Mrs. Cheyne’s tone conveyed the wonder she evidently felt.
+“Nothing whatever! Or at least we can’t find that anything is
+missing.”
+
+“Unless something may have been taken from your safe,” Agatha
+interposed. “Was there much in it?”
+
+“No, only a few pounds and some papers, none valuable to an outsider.”
+He glanced at his sister. She was a pretty girl, tall and dark and in
+features not unlike himself. Both the young people had favored the
+late commander’s side of the house. He turned towards the door,
+continuing: “I’ll go and have a look, and then you can tell me what
+has happened.”
+
+The safe was built into the wall in his own sanctum, “the study,” as
+his mother persisted in calling it. It had been taken over with the
+house when Mrs. Cheyne bought the little estate. As Cheyne now entered
+he saw that its doors were standing open. A tall man in the uniform of
+a sergeant of police was stooping over it. He turned as he heard the
+newcomer’s step.
+
+“Good-evening sir,” he said in an impressive tone. “This is a bad
+business.”
+
+“Oh, well, I don’t know, sergeant,” Cheyne answered easily. “If no one
+has been hurt and nothing has been stolen it might have been worse.”
+
+The sergeant stared at him with some disfavor.
+
+“There’s not much but what might have been worse,” he observed
+oracularly. “But we’re not sure yet that nothing’s been stolen. Nobody
+knows what was in this here safe, except maybe yourself. I’d be glad
+if you’d have a look and see if anything is gone.”
+
+There was very little in the safe and it did not take Cheyne many
+seconds to go through it. The papers were tossed about—he could swear
+someone had turned them over—but none seemed to have been removed. The
+small packet of Treasury notes was intact and a number of gold and
+silver medals, won in athletic contests, were all in evidence.
+
+“Nothing missing there, sergeant,” he declared when he had finished.
+
+His eye wandered round the room. There was not much of value in it;
+one or two silver bowls—athletic trophies also, a small gold clock of
+Indian workmanship, a pair of high-power prism binoculars and a few
+ornaments were about all that could be turned into money. But all
+these were there, undisturbed. It was true that the glass door of a
+locked bookcase had been broken to enable the bolt to be unfastened
+and the doors opened, but none of the books seemed to have been
+touched.
+
+“What do you think they were after, sir?” the sergeant queried. “Was
+there any jewelry in the house that they might have heard of?”
+
+“My mother has a few trinkets, but I scarcely think you could dignify
+them by the name of jewelry. I suppose these precious burglars have
+left no kind of clue?”
+
+“No, sir, nothing. Except maybe the girls’ description. I’ve
+telephoned that into headquarters and the men will be on the lookout.”
+
+“Good. Well, if you can wait here a few minutes I’ll go and send my
+mother to bed and then I’ll come back and we can settle what’s to be
+done.”
+
+Cheyne returned to the drawing room and told his news. “Nothing’s been
+taken,” he declared. “I’ve been through the safe and everything’s
+there. And nothing seems to be missing from the room either. The
+sergeant was asking about your jewels, mother. Have you looked to see
+if they’re all right?”
+
+“It was the first thing I thought of, but they are all in their
+places. The cabinet I keep them in was certainly examined, for
+everything was left topsy-turvy, but nothing is missing.”
+
+“Very extraordinary,” Cheyne commented. It seemed to him more than
+ever clear that these mysterious thieves were after some document
+which they believed he had, though why they should have supposed he
+held a valuable document he could not imagine. But the searching first
+of his pockets and then of his safe and house unmistakably suggested
+such a conclusion. He wondered if he should advance this theory, then
+decided he would first hear what the others had to say.
+
+“Now, mother,” he went on, “it’s past your bedtime, but before you go
+I wish you would tell me what happened to you. Remember I have heard
+no details other than what Miss Hazelton mentioned on the telephone.”
+
+Mrs. Cheyne answered with some eagerness, evidently anxious to relieve
+her mind by relating her experiences.
+
+“The first thing was the telegram,” she began. “Agatha and I were
+sitting here this afternoon. I was sewing and Agatha was reading the
+paper—or was it the _Spectator_, Agatha?”
+
+“The paper, mother, though that does not really matter.”
+
+“No, of course it doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Cheyne repeated. It was
+evident the old lady had had a shock and found it difficult to
+concentrate her attention. “Well, at all events we were sitting here
+as I have said, sewing and reading, when your telegram was brought
+in.”
+
+“_My_ telegram?” Cheyne queried sharply. “What telegram do you mean?”
+
+“Why, your telegram about Mr. Ackfield, of course,” his mother
+answered with some petulance. “What other telegram could it be? It did
+not give us much time, but—”
+
+“But, mother dear, I don’t know what you are talking about. I sent no
+telegram.”
+
+Agatha made a sudden gesture.
+
+“There!” she exclaimed eagerly. “What did I say? When we came home and
+learned what had happened and thought of your not turning up,” she
+glanced at her brother, “I said it was only a blind. It was sent to
+get us away from the house!”
+
+Cheyne shrugged his shoulders good-humoredly. What he had half
+expected had evidently taken place.
+
+“Dear people,” he protested, “this is worse than getting blood from a
+stone. Do tell me what has happened. You were sitting here this
+afternoon when you received a telegram. Very well now, what time was
+that?”
+
+“What time? Oh, about—what time did the telegram come, Agatha?”
+
+“Just as the clock was striking four. I heard it strike immediately
+after the ring.”
+
+“Good,” said Cheyne in what he imagined was the manner of a
+cross-examining K.C. “And what was in the telegram?”
+
+The girl was evidently too much upset by her experience to resent his
+superior tone. She crossed the room, and taking a flimsy pink form
+from a table, handed it over to him.
+
+The telegram had been sent out from the General Post Office in
+Plymouth at 3:17 that afternoon, and read:
+
+  You and Agatha please come without fail to Newton Abbot by 5:15
+  train to meet self and Ackfield about unexpected financial
+  development. Urgent that you sign papers today. Ackfield will return
+  Plymouth after meeting. You and I will catch 7:10 home from Newton
+  Abbot — MAXWELL.
+
+Three-seventeen; and Parkes left the Edgecombe about three! It seemed
+pretty certain that he had sent the telegram. But if so, what an
+amazing amount the man knew about them all! Not only had he known of
+Cheyne’s war experiences and literary efforts and of his visit that
+day to the Edgecombe, but now it seemed that he had also known his
+address, of his mother and sister, and, most amazing thing of all, of
+the fact that Mr. Ackfield of Plymouth was their lawyer and
+confidential adviser! Moreover, he had evidently known that the ladies
+were at home as well as that they alone comprised the family. Surely,
+Cheyne thought, comparatively few people possessed all this knowledge,
+and the finding of Parkes should therefore be a correspondingly easy
+task.
+
+“Extraordinary!” he said aloud. “And what did you do?”
+
+“We got a taxi,” Mrs. Cheyne answered. “Agatha arranged it by
+telephone from Mrs. Hazelton’s. You tell him, Agatha. I’m rather
+tired.”
+
+The old lady indeed looked worn out and Cheyne interposed a suggestion
+that she should go at once to bed, leaving Agatha to finish the story.
+But she refused and her daughter took up the tale.
+
+“We caught the 5:15 ferry and went on to Newton Abbot. But when the
+Plymouth train came in there was no sign of you or Mr. Ackfield, so we
+sat in the waiting-room until the 7:10. I telephoned for a taxi to
+meet the ferry. It brought us to the door about half-past eight, but
+unfortunately it went away before we found we couldn’t get in.”
+
+“You rang?”
+
+“We rang, and knocked, but could get no answer. The house was in
+darkness and we began to fear something was wrong. Then just as I was
+about to leave mother in the summer-house and run up to the Hazeltons’
+to see if James was there, he appeared to say that you were staying in
+Plymouth overnight. He rang and knocked again. But still no one came.
+Then he tried the windows on the ground floor, but they were all
+fastened, and at last he got the ladder from the yard and managed to
+get in through the window of your dressing room. He came down and
+opened the door and we got in.”
+
+“And what did you find?”
+
+“Nothing at first. We wondered where the maids could possibly have got
+to, or what could have happened. I found your electric torch and we
+began to search the rooms. Then we saw that your safe had been broken
+open and we knew it was burglary. That terrified us on account of the
+maids and we wondered if they had been decoyed away also. I don’t mind
+admitting now that I was just shaking with fear lest we should find
+that they had been injured or even murdered. But it wasn’t so bad as
+that.”
+
+“They were tied up?”
+
+“Yes, we found them in cook’s bedroom, lying on the floor with their
+hands and feet tied, and gagged. They were both very weak and could
+scarcely stand when we released them. They told us—but you’d better
+see them and hear what they have to say. They’re not gone to bed yet.”
+
+“Yes, I’ll see them directly. What did you do then?”
+
+“As soon as we were satisfied the burglars had gone James went home to
+call up the police. Then he came back and we began a second search to
+see what had been stolen. But the more we looked, the more surprised
+we became. We couldn’t find that anything had been taken.”
+
+“Extraordinary!” Cheyne commented again. “And then?”
+
+“After a time the police came out, and then James went home again to
+see whether they had been able to get in touch with you. He came back
+and told us you would be here by eleven. He had only just gone when
+you arrived. I really can’t say how kind and helpful he has been.”
+
+“Yes, James is a good fellow. Now you and mother get to bed and I’ll
+fix things up with the police.”
+
+He turned his steps to the kitchen, where he found the two maids
+shivering over a roaring fire and drinking tea. They stood up as he
+entered, but he told them to sit down again, asked for a cup for
+himself, and seating himself on the table chatted pleasantly before
+obtaining their statements. They had evidently had a bad fright and
+cook still seemed hysterical. As he sat he looked at them curiously.
+
+Cook was an elderly woman, small and plain and stout. She had been
+with them since they had bought the house, and though he had not seen
+much of her, she had always seemed good-tempered and obliging. He had
+heard his mother speak well of her and he was sorry she should have
+had so distressing an experience. But he didn’t fancy she would be one
+to give burglars much trouble.
+
+Susan, the parlormaid, was of a different quality. She was tall with
+rather heavy features, and good looking after a somewhat coarse type.
+If a trifle sullen in manner, she was competent and by no means a
+fool, and he felt that nefarious marauders would find her a force to
+be reckoned with.
+
+By dint of patient questioning he presently knew all they had to tell.
+It appeared that shortly after the ladies had left a ring had come at
+the door. Susan had opened it to find two men standing outside. One
+was tall and powerfully built, with dark hair and clean shaven, the
+other small and pale—pale face, pale hair, and tiny pale mustache.
+They had inquired for Mr. Maxwell Cheyne, and when she had said he was
+out the small man had asked if he could write a note. She had brought
+them into the hall and was turning to go for some paper when the big
+man had sprung on her and before she could cry out had pressed a
+handkerchief over her mouth. The small man had shut the door and begun
+to tie her wrists and ankles. Susan had struggled and in spite of them
+had succeeded in getting her mouth free and shouting a warning to
+cook, but she had been immediately overpowered and securely gagged.
+The men had laid her on the floor of the hall and had seemed about to
+go upstairs when cook, attracted by Susan’s cry, had appeared at the
+door leading to the back premises. The two men had instantly rushed
+over, and in a few seconds cook also lay bound and gagged on the
+floor. They had then disappeared, apparently to search the house, for
+in a few minutes they had come back and carried first Susan and then
+cook to the latter’s room at the far end of the back part of the
+house. The intruders had then withdrawn, closing the door, and the two
+women had neither heard nor seen anything further of them.
+
+The whole episode had a curious effect on Cheyne. It seemed, as he
+considered it, to lose its character of an ordinary breach of the law,
+punishable by the authorized forces of the Crown, and to take on
+instead that of a personal struggle between himself and these unknown
+men. The more he thought of it the more inclined he became to accept
+the challenge and to pit his own brain and powers against theirs. The
+mysterious nature of the affair appealed to his sporting instincts,
+and by the time he rejoined the sergeant in the study, he had made up
+his mind to keep his own counsel as to the Plymouth incident. He would
+call up the manager of the Edgecombe, tell him to carry on with his
+private detective, and have the latter down to Warren Lodge to go into
+the matter of the burglary.
+
+He found the sergeant attempting ineffectively to discover
+finger-prints on the smooth walls of the safe, sympathized with him in
+the difficulty of his task, and asked a number of deliberately futile
+questions. On the ground that nothing had been stolen he minimized the
+gravity of the affair, questioned his power to prosecute should the
+offenders be forthcoming, and instilled doubts into the other’s mind
+as to the need for special efforts to run them to earth. Finally, the
+man explaining that he had finished for the time being, he bade him
+good night, locked up the house and went to bed. There he lay for
+several hours tossing and turning as he puzzled over the affair,
+before sleep descended to blot out his worries and soothe his eager
+desire to be on the track of his enemies.
+
+
+
+Chapter III
+
+The Launch “Enid”
+
+For several days after the attempted burglary events in the Cheyne
+household pursued the even tenor of their way. Cheyne went back to
+Plymouth on the following morning and interviewed the manager of the
+Edgecombe, and the day after a quiet, despondent-looking man with the
+air of a small shopkeeper arrived at Warren Lodge and was closeted
+with Cheyne for a couple of hours. Mr. Speedwell, of Horton and
+Lavender’s Private Detective Agency, listened with attention to the
+tales of the drugging and the burglary, thenceforward appearing at
+intervals and making mysterious inquiries on his own account.
+
+On one of these visits he brought with him the report of the analyst
+relative to the dishes of which Cheyne had partaken at lunch, but this
+document only increased the mystification the affair had caused. No
+trace of drugs was discernible in any of the food or drink in
+question, and as the soiled plates or glasses or cups of _all_ the
+courses were available for examination, the question of how the drug
+had been administered—or alternatively whether it really had been
+administered—began to seem almost insoluble. The cocktail taken with
+Parkes before lunch was the only item of which a portion could not be
+analyzed, but the evidence of the barmaid proved conclusively that
+Parkes could not have tampered with it.
+
+But in spite of the analysis, the coffee still seemed the doubtful
+item. Cheyne’s sleepy feeling had come on very rapidly immediately
+after drinking the coffee, before which he had not felt the slightest
+abnormal symptoms. Mr. Speedwell laid stress on this point, though he
+was pessimistic about the whole affair.
+
+“They know what they’re about, does this gang,” he admitted ruefully
+as he and Cheyne were discussing matters. “That man in the hotel that
+called himself Parkes—if we found him tomorrow we should have precious
+little against him. However he managed it, we can’t prove he drugged
+you. In fact it’s the other way round. He can prove on our evidence
+that he didn’t.”
+
+“It looks like it. You haven’t been able to find out anything about
+him?”
+
+“Not a thing, sir; that is, not what would be any use. I can prove
+that he sent your telegram all right; the girl in the Post Office
+recognized his description. But I couldn’t get on to his trail after
+that. I’ve tried the stations and the docks and the posting
+establishments and the hotels and I can’t get a trace. But of course
+I’ll maybe get it yet.”
+
+“What about the address given on his card?”
+
+“Tried that first thing. No good. No one of the name known in the
+district.”
+
+“When did the man arrive at the hotel?”
+
+“Just after you did, Mr. Cheyne. He probably picked you up somewhere
+else and was following you to see where you’d get lunch.”
+
+“Oh, well, that explains something. I was wondering how he knew I was
+going to the Edgecombe.”
+
+“It doesn’t explain so very much, sir. Question still is, how did he
+get all that other information about you; the name of your lawyer and
+so on?”
+
+Cheyne had to admit that the prospects of clearing up the affair were
+not rosy. “But what about the burglary?” he went on more hopefully.
+“That should be an easier nut to crack.”
+
+Speedwell was still pessimistic.
+
+“I don’t know about that, sir,” he answered gloomily. “There’s not
+much to go on there either. The only chance is to trace the men’s
+arrival or departure. Now individually the private detective is every
+bit as good as the police; better, in fact, because he’s not so tied
+up with red tape. But he hasn’t their organization. In a case like
+this, when the police with their enormous organization have failed,
+the private detective hasn’t a big chance. However, of course I’ve not
+given up.”
+
+He paused, and then drawing a little closer to Cheyne and lowering his
+voice, he went on impressively: “You know, sir, I hope you’ll not
+consider me out of place in saying it, but I had hoped to get my best
+clue from yourself. There can be no doubt that these men are after
+some paper that you have, or that they think you have. If you could
+tell me what it was, it might make all the difference.”
+
+Cheyne made a gesture of impatience.
+
+“Don’t I know that,” he cried. “Haven’t I been racking my brains over
+that question ever since the thing happened! I can’t think of
+anything. In fact, I can tell you there _was_ nothing—nothing that I
+know of anyway,” he added helplessly.
+
+Speedwell nodded and a sly look came into his eyes.
+
+“Well, sir, if you can’t tell, you can’t, and that’s all there is to
+it.” He paused as if to refer to some other matter, then apparently
+thinking better of it, concluded: “You have my address, and if
+anything should occur to you I hope you’ll let me know without delay.”
+
+When Speedwell had taken his departure Cheyne sat on in the study,
+thinking over the problem the other had presented, but as he did so he
+had no idea that before that very day was out he should himself have
+received information which would clear up the point at issue, as well
+as a good many of the other puzzling features of the strange events in
+which he had become involved.
+
+Shortly after lunch, then, on this day, the eighth after the burglary
+and drugging, Cheyne, on re-entering the house after a stroll round
+the garden, was handed a card and told that the owner was waiting to
+see him in his study. Mr. Arthur Lamson, of 17 Acacia Terrace, Bland
+Road, Devonport, proved to be a youngish man of middle height and
+build, with the ruggedly chiselled features usually termed
+hard-bitten, a thick black toothbrush mustache, and glasses. Cheyne
+was not particularly prepossessed by his appearance, but he spoke in
+an educated way and had the easy polish of a man of the world.
+
+“I have to apologize for this intrusion, Mr. Cheyne,” he began in a
+pleasant tone, “but the fact is I wondered whether I could interest
+you in a small invention of mine. I got your name from Messrs. Holt &
+Stavenage, the Plymouth ship chandlers. They told me you dealt with
+them and how keen you were on yachting, and as my invention relates to
+the navigation of coasting craft, I hoped you might allow me to show
+it to you.”
+
+Cheyne, who had had some experience of inventors during six weeks’
+special naval war service after his convalescence, made a noncommittal
+reply.
+
+“I may tell you at once, sir,” Mr. Lamson went on, “that I am looking
+for a keen amateur who would be willing to allow me to fit the device
+to his boat, and who would be sufficiently interested to test it under
+all kinds of varying conditions. You see, though the thing works all
+right on a motor launch I have borrowed, I have exhausted my leave
+from my business, and am therefore unable to give it a sufficiently
+lengthy and varying test to find out whether it will work continuously
+under ordinary everyday sea-going conditions. If it proves
+satisfactory I believe it would sell, and if so I should of course be
+willing to take into partnership to a certain extent anyone who had
+helped me to develop it.”
+
+In spite of himself Cheyne was impressed. This man was different from
+those with whom he had hitherto come in contact. He was not asking for
+money, or at least he hadn’t so far.
+
+“Have you patented the device?” he asked, reckoning willingness to
+spend money on patent fees a test of good faith.
+
+“No, not yet,” the visitor answered. “I have taken out provisional
+protection, which will cover the thing for four months more. If it
+promises well after a couple of months’ test it will be time enough to
+apply for the full patent.”
+
+Cheyne nodded. This was a reasonable and proper course.
+
+“What is the nature of the device?” he asked.
+
+The young man’s manner grew more alert. He leaned forward in his chair
+and spoke eagerly. Cheyne frowned involuntarily as he recognized the
+symptoms.
+
+“It’s a position indicator. It would, I think, be useful at all times,
+but during fog it would be simply invaluable: that is, for coasting
+work, you know. It would be no good for protection against collision
+with another ship. But for clearing a headland or making a harbor in a
+fog it would be worth its weight in gold. The principle is, I believe,
+old, but I have been lucky enough to hit on improvements in detail
+which get over the defects of previous instruments. Speaking broadly,
+a fixed pointer, which may if desired carry a pen, rests on a moving
+chart. The chart is connected to a compass and to rollers operated by
+devices for recording the various components of motion: one is driven
+off the propeller, others are set, automatically mostly, for such
+things as wind, run of tide, wave motion and so on. The pointer always
+indicates the position of the ship, and as the ship moves, the chart
+moves to correspond. Steering then resolves itself into keeping the
+pointer on the correct line on the chart, and this can be done by
+night without guide lamps, or in a fog, as well as in daytime. The
+apparatus would also assist navigation through unbuoyed channels over
+covered mud flats, or in time of war through charted mine fields. I
+don’t want to be a nuisance to you, Mr. Cheyne, but I do wish you
+would at least let me show you the device. You could then decide
+whether you would allow me to fix it to your yacht for experimental
+purposes.”
+
+“I should like to see it,” Cheyne admitted. “If you can do all you
+claim, I certainly think you have a good thing. Where is it to be
+seen?”
+
+“On my launch, or rather, the launch I have borrowed.” The young man’s
+eagerness now almost approached excitement. His eyes sparkled and he
+fidgeted in his chair. “She is lying off Johnson’s boat slip at
+Dartmouth. I left the dinghy there.”
+
+“And you want me to go now?”
+
+“If you really will be so kind. I should propose a short run down the
+estuary and along the coast towards Exmouth, say for two or three
+hours. Could you spare so much time?”
+
+“Why, yes, I should enjoy it. I shall be back, say, between six and
+seven.”
+
+“I’ll have you back at Johnson’s slip at six o’clock. I have a taxi
+waiting now, and I’ll arrange with Johnson to call another for you as
+soon as he sees us coming up the estuary.”
+
+“I’ll go,” said Cheyne. “Just a moment until I tell my people and get
+a coat.”
+
+The day was ideal for the run. Spring was in the air. The brilliant
+April sun poured down from an almost cloudless sky, against which the
+sea horizon showed a hard, sharp line of intensest blue. Within the
+estuary it was calm, but multitudinous white flecks in the distance
+showed a stiff breeze was blowing out at sea. Cheyne’s spirits rose.
+It was a glorious sport, this of battling with the foaming, tumbling
+waves in the open. How he loved their blue-black depth with its
+suggestion of utter and absolute cleanness, the creamy purity of their
+seething crests, their steady, irresistible onward movement, the
+restless dancing and swirling of the wavelets on their flanks! To him
+it was life to feel the buoyant spring of the craft beneath him, to
+hear the crash of the bows into the troughs and the smack of the
+spindrift striking aft. He was glad this Lamson had called. Even if
+the matter of the invention was a washout, as he more than half
+expected, he felt he was going to enjoy his afternoon.
+
+Three or four minutes brought them to Johnson’s boat slip on the
+outskirts of Dartmouth. There Lamson drew the proprietor aside.
+
+“See here,” he directed, “we’re going out for a run. I want you to
+keep a lookout for us coming back. We shall be in about six. As soon
+as you see us send for a taxi and have it here when we get ashore.
+Now, Mr. Cheyne, if you’re ready.”
+
+They climbed down into a small dinghy and Lamson, taking the oars,
+pulled out towards a fair-sized motor launch which lay at anchor some
+couple of hundred yards from the shore. She was not a graceful boat,
+but looked strongly built, showing a high bluff bow, a square stern
+and lines suggestive of speed.
+
+“A sea boat,” said Cheyne approvingly. “You surely don’t run her by
+yourself?”
+
+“No, a motoring friend has been giving me a hand. I am skipper and he
+engineer. We hug the coast, you know, and don’t go out if it is
+blowing.”
+
+As he spoke he pulled round the stern of the launch upon which Cheyne
+observed the words “Enid, Devonport.” At the same time a tall,
+well-built figure appeared and waved his hand. Lamson brought the
+dinghy up to the tiny steps and a moment later they were on deck.
+
+“Mr. Cheyne has come out to see the great invention, Tom. I almost
+hope that he is interested. My friend, Tom Lewisham, Mr. Cheyne.”
+
+The two men shook hands.
+
+“Lamson thinks he is going to make his fortune with this thing, Mr.
+Cheyne,” the big man remarked, smiling. “We must see that there is no
+mistake about our percentages.”
+
+“If you want a percentage you must work for it, my son,” Lamson
+declared. “Mr. Cheyne must be back by six, so get your old rattletrap
+going and we’ll run down to the sea. If you don’t mind, Mr. Cheyne,
+we’ll get under way before I show you the machine, as it takes both of
+us to get started.”
+
+“Right-o,” said Cheyne. “I’ll bear a hand if there’s anything I can
+do.”
+
+“Well, that’s good of you. It would be a help if you would take the
+tiller while I’m making all snug. There’s a bit of a tumble on
+outside.”
+
+The boat was certainly a flier. The charmingly situated old town
+dropped rapidly astern while Lamson “made snug.” Then he came aft,
+shouted down through the engine room skylight for his friend, and when
+the latter appeared told him to take the tiller.
+
+“Now, Mr. Cheyne,” he went on, “now comes the great moment! I have not
+fixed the apparatus up here in front of the tiller, partly to keep it
+secret and partly to save the trouble of making it weatherproof. It’s
+down in the cabin. But you understand it should be up here. Will you
+come down?”
+
+He led the way down a companion to a diminutive saloon. “It’s in the
+sleeping part, still forward,” he pointed, and the two men squeezed
+through a door in the bulkhead into a tiny cabin, lit by electric
+light and with a table in the center and two berths on either side. On
+the table was a frame on the top of which was stretched a chart, and a
+light rod ran out from one side to a pointer fixed over the middle of
+the chart.
+
+“You can see that it’s very roughly made,” Lamson went on, “but if you
+look closely I think you’ll find that it works all right.”
+
+Cheyne bent forward and examined the machine, and as he did so
+mystification grew in his mind. The chart was not of the estuary of
+the Dart, nor, stranger still, was it connected to rollers. It was
+simply tacked on what he now saw was merely the lid of a box. How it
+was moved he couldn’t see.
+
+“I don’t follow this,” he said. “How do you get your chart to move if
+it’s nailed down?”
+
+There was no answer, but as he swung round with a sudden misgiving
+there was a sharp click. Lamson had disappeared and the door was shut!
+
+Cheyne seized the handle and turned it violently, only to find that
+the bolt of the lock had been shot, but before he could attempt
+further researches the light went off, leaving him in almost pitch
+darkness. At the same moment a significant lurch showed that they were
+passing from the shelter of the estuary into the open sea.
+
+He twisted and tugged at the handle. “Here you, Lamson!” he shouted
+angrily. “What do you mean by this? Open the door at once. Confound
+you! Will you open the door!” He began to kick savagely at the
+woodwork.
+
+A small panel in the partition between the cabins shot aside and a
+beam of light flowed into Cheyne’s. Lamson’s face appeared at the
+opening. He spoke in an old-fashioned, stilted way, aping extreme
+politeness, but his mocking smile gave the lie to his protestations.
+
+“I’m sorry, Mr. Cheyne, for this incivility,” he declared, “and hope
+that when you have heard my explanation you will pardon me. I must
+admit I have played a trick on you for which I offer the fullest
+apologies. The story of my invention was a fabrication. So far as I am
+aware no apparatus such as I have described exists: certainly I have
+not made one. The truth is that you can do me a service, and I took
+the liberty of inveigling you here in the hope of securing your good
+offices in the matter.”
+
+“You’ve taken a bad way of getting my help,” Cheyne shouted
+wrathfully. “Open the door at once, damn you, or I’ll smash it to
+splinters!”
+
+The other made a deprecatory gesture.
+
+“Really I beg of you, Mr. Cheyne,” he said in mock horror at the
+other’s violence. “Not so fast, if you please, sir. I have an answer
+to both your observations. With regard to the door you will—”
+
+Cheyne interrupted him with a savage oath and a fierce onslaught of
+kicks on the lower panels of the door. But he could make no impression
+on them, and when in a few moments he paused breathless, Lamson went
+on quietly.
+
+“With regard to the door, as I was about to observe, it would be a
+waste of energy to attempt to smash it to splinters, because I have
+taken the precaution to have it covered with steel plates. They are
+bolted through and the nuts are on the outside. I mention this to save
+you—”
+
+Cheyne was by this time almost beside himself with rage. He expressed
+his convictions and desires as to Lamson and his future in terms which
+from the point of view of force left little to be desired, and
+persistently reiterated his demand that the door be opened as a
+prelude to further negotiation. In reply Lamson shook his head, and
+remarking that as the present seemed an inopportune moment for
+discussing the situation, he could postpone the conversation, he
+closed the panel and left the inner cabin once more in darkness.
+
+For an hour Cheyne stormed and fumed, and with pieces which he managed
+to knock off the table tried to break through the door, the bulkheads,
+and the deadlighted porthole, all with such a complete absence of
+success that when at last Lamson appeared once more at the panel he
+was constrained to listen, though with suppressed fury, to what he had
+to say.
+
+“You see, it’s this way, Mr. Cheyne,” the erstwhile inventor began.
+“You are completely in our power, and the sooner you realize it and
+let us come to business, the sooner you’ll be at liberty again. We
+don’t wish you any harm; please accept my assurances on that. All we
+want is a slight service at your hands, and when you perform it you
+will be free to return home; in fact we shall take you back as I said,
+with profuse apologies for your inconvenience and loss of time. But it
+is only fair to point out that we are determined to get what we want,
+and if you are not prepared to come to terms now we can wait until you
+are.”
+
+Cheyne, still at a white heat, cursed the other savagely. Lamson
+waited until he had finished, then went on in a smooth, almost coaxing
+tone:
+
+“Now do be reasonable, Mr. Cheyne. You must see that your present
+attitude is only wasting time for us both. Not to put too fine a point
+on it, the situation is this: You are there, and you can’t get out,
+and you can’t attract attention to your predicament—that is why the
+deadlights are shipped. It grieves me to say it,” Lamson smiled
+sardonically, “but I must tell you that you will stay there until you
+do what we want. In order to prevent Mrs. Cheyne becoming uneasy we
+shall wire her in your name that you have left for an extended trip
+and won’t be back for some days. ‘To Cheyne, Warren Lodge, Dartmouth.
+Gone for yachting cruise down French coast. Address Poste Restante,
+St. Nazaire. All well. Maxwell.’ You see, we know exactly how to word
+it. All suspicion would be lulled for some days and then,” he paused
+and something sinister and revolting came into his face, “then it
+wouldn’t matter, for it would be too late. For you see there is
+neither food nor drink in the cabin and we don’t propose to pass any
+in. You won’t get any, Mr. Cheyne, no matter how many days you remain
+aboard: that is,” his manner changed, “unless you are reasonable,
+which of course you will be. In that case no harm is done. Now won’t
+you hear our little proposition?”
+
+“I’ll see you in hell first,” Cheyne shouted, his rage once again
+overwhelming him. “You’ll pay for this, I can tell you. It’ll be the
+dearest trip you ever had in your life,” and he proceeded with threats
+and curses to demand the immediate opening of the door. Lamson, a
+whimsical smile curling his lips, shrugged his shoulders at the
+outburst, and replied by withdrawing his head from the opening and
+sliding the panel to.
+
+Cheyne, left once more in almost complete darkness, sat silent, his
+mind full of wrath against his captors. But as time passed and they
+made no sign, his fury somewhat evaporated and he began to wonder what
+it was they wanted with him. His rage had made him thirsty, and the
+mere fact that Lamson had stated that nothing would be given him to
+drink, made his thirst more insistent. It was impossible, he said to
+himself, that the scoundrels could carry out so diabolical a threat,
+but in spite of his assurance, little misgivings began to creep into
+his mind. At all events the vision of his usual cup of afternoon tea
+grew increasingly alluring. When therefore after what seemed to him
+several hours, but what was in reality about forty minutes only, the
+panel suddenly opened, he admitted sullenly that he was prepared to
+listen to what Lamson had to say.
+
+“That’s good,” the young man answered heartily. “If you could just see
+your way to humor us in this little matter there is no reason why we
+should not part friends.”
+
+“There’s no question of friends about it,” Cheyne declared sharply.
+“Cut your chatter and get on to business. What do you want?”
+
+A smile suffused Mr. Lamson’s roughhewn countenance.
+
+“Now that’s talking,” he cried. “That’s what I’ve been hoping to hear.
+I’ll tell you the whole thing and you’ll see it’s only a mere trifle
+that we’re asking. I can put it in five words: We want Arnold Price’s
+letter.”
+
+Cheyne stared.
+
+“Arnold Price’s letter?” he repeated in amazement. “What on earth do
+you know about Arnold Price’s letter?”
+
+“We know all about it, Mr. Cheyne—a jolly sight more than you do. We
+know about his giving it to you and the conditions under which he
+asked you to keep it. But you don’t know why he did so or what is in
+it. We do, and we can justify our request for it.”
+
+The demand was so unexpected that Cheyne sat for a moment in silence,
+thinking how the letter in question had come into his possession.
+Arnold Price was a junior officer in one of the ships belonging to the
+Fenchurch Street firm in whose office Cheyne had spent five years as
+clerk. Business had brought the two young men in contact during the
+visits of Price’s ship, and they had become rather friendly. On
+Cheyne’s leaving for Devonshire they had drifted apart, indeed they
+had only met on one occasion since. That was in 1917, shortly before
+Cheyne received the wound which invalided him out of the service. Then
+he found that his former companion had volunteered for the navy on the
+outbreak of hostilities. He had done well, and after a varied service
+he had been appointed third officer of the _Maurania_, an
+eight-thousand-ton liner carrying passengers, as well as stores from
+overseas to the troops in France. The two had spent an evening
+together in Dunkirk renewing their friendship and talking over old
+times. Then, two months later, had come the letter. In it Price asked
+his friend to do him a favor. Some private papers, of interest only to
+himself, had come into his possession and he wished these to be safely
+preserved until after the war. Knowing that Cheyne was permanently
+invalided out, he was venturing to send these papers, sealed in the
+enclosed envelope, with the request that Cheyne would keep them for
+him until he reclaimed them or until news of his death was received.
+In the latter case Cheyne was to open the envelope and act as he
+thought fit on the information therein contained.
+
+The sealed envelope was of a size which would hold a foolscap sheet
+folded in four, and was fairly bulky. It was inscribed: “To Maxwell
+Cheyne, of Warren Lodge, Dartmouth, Devonshire, from Arnold Price,
+third officer, S.S. _Maurania_,” and on the top was written: “Please
+retain this envelope unopened until I claim it or until you have
+received authentic news of my death. Arnold Price.” Cheyne had
+acknowledged it, promising to carry out the instructions, and had then
+sent the envelope to his bank, where it had since remained.
+
+The insinuating voice of Lamson broke through his thoughts.
+
+“I think, Mr. Cheyne, when you hear the reasons for our request, you
+will give it all due consideration. For one—”
+
+What? Break faith with Price? Go back on his friend? Rage again choked
+Cheyne’s utterance. Stutteringly he cursed the other, once again
+demanding under blood-curdling threats of future vengeance his
+immediate liberty. Through his passion he heard the voice of the other
+saying he was sorry but he really could not help it, the panel slid
+shut, and darkness and silence, save for the sounds of the sea,
+reigned in the _Enid’s_ cabin.
+
+
+
+Chapter IV
+
+Concerning a Peerage
+
+When Maxwell Cheyne’s paroxysm of fury diminished and he began once
+more to think collectedly about the unpleasant situation in which he
+found himself, a startling idea occurred to him. Here at last, surely,
+was the explanation of his previous adventures! The drugging in the
+hotel in Plymouth, the burglary at Warren Lodge, and now his kidnaping
+on the _Enid_ were all part and parcel of the same scheme. It was for
+Price’s letter that his pocketbook was investigated while he lay
+asleep in the private room at the Edgecombe; it was for Price’s letter
+that his safe was broken open and his house searched by other members
+of the conspiracy, and it was for Price’s letter that he now lay, a
+prisoner aboard this infernal launch.
+
+A valuable document, this of Price’s must surely be, if it was worth
+such pains to acquire! Cheyne wondered how it had never occurred to
+him that it might represent the motive of the earlier crimes, but he
+soon realized that he had never thought of it as being of interest to
+anyone other than Price. Indeed, Price himself referred to his
+enclosure as “some private papers, of interest to myself only.” In
+that last phrase Price had evidently been wrong, and Cheyne wondered
+whether he had been genuinely mistaken, or whether he had from
+distrust of himself deliberately misstated the case in order to
+minimize the value of the document. Price had certainly not shown
+himself anxious to regain it at the earliest possible moment. On the
+conclusion of peace he had not accepted demobilization. He had applied
+for and obtained a transfer to the Middle East, where he had commanded
+one of the transports plying between Basrah and Bombay in connection
+with the Mesopotamian campaign. So far as Cheyne knew, he was still
+there. He hadn’t heard of him for many months, not, indeed, since he
+went out.
+
+While Cheyne had been turning over these matters in his mind the
+launch had evidently been approaching land, as its rather wild rolling
+and pitching had gradually ceased and it was now floating on an even
+keel. Cheyne had been conscious of the fact despite his preoccupation,
+but now his musings were interrupted by the stopping of the motor and
+a few seconds later by the plunge of the anchor and the rattle of the
+running chain. In the comparative silence he shouted himself hoarse,
+but no one paid him the least attention. He heard, however, the dinghy
+being drawn up to the side and presently the sound of oars retreating,
+but whether one or both of his captors had left he could not tell. In
+an hour or two the boat returned, but though he again shouted and beat
+the door of his cabin, no notice was taken of his calls.
+
+Then began for Cheyne a period which he could never afterwards look
+back on without a shudder. Never could he have believed that a night
+could be so long, that time could drag so slowly. He made himself as
+comfortable as he could in one of the bunks, but as the clothes and
+the mattress had been removed, his efforts were not crowned with much
+success. In spite of his weariness and of the growing exhaustion due
+to hunger, he could not sleep. He wanted something to drink. He was
+surprised to find that thirst was not localized in a parched throat or
+dry mouth. His whole being cried out for water. He could not have
+described the sensation, but it was very intense, and with every hour
+that passed it grew stronger. He turned and tossed in the narrow bunk,
+his restlessness and discomfort continually increasing. At last he
+dozed, but only to fall into horrible dreams from which he awoke
+unrefreshed and thirstier than ever.
+
+Cheyne had plenty of spirit and dash, but he lacked in staying power,
+and when the inevitable period of reaction to his excitement and rage
+came he became plunged in a deep depression. These fellows had him in
+their power. If this went on and they really carried out their threat
+he would have to give way sooner or later. He hated to think he might
+betray a trust; he hated still more to be coerced into doing anything
+against his own will, but when, as it seemed to him, weeks later, the
+panel shot back and Lamson’s face appeared, his first decision was
+shaken and he waited sullenly to hear what the other had to say.
+
+The man was polite and deprecating rather than blustering, and seemed
+anxious to make it as easy as possible for Cheyne to capitulate.
+
+“I hope, Mr. Cheyne,” he began, “you will allow me to explain this
+matter more fully, as I cannot but think you have at least to some
+extent misunderstood our proposal. I did not tell you the whole of the
+facts, but I should like to do so now if you will listen.”
+
+He paused expectantly. Cheyne glowered at him, but did not reply, and
+Lamson resumed:
+
+“The matter is somewhat complicated, but I will do my best to explain
+it as briefly as I can. In a word, then, it relates to a claim for a
+peerage. I must admit to you that Lamson is not my name—it is Price,
+and the Arnold Price whom you knew during the war is my second cousin.
+Arnold’s uncle and my father’s cousin, St. John Price, is, or rather
+was, in the diplomatic service, and it is through his discoveries that
+the present situation has arisen.
+
+“It happened that this St. John Price had occasion to visit South
+Africa on diplomatic business during the war, and as luck would have
+it he took his return passage on the _Maurania_, the ship on which his
+nephew Arnold was third officer. But he never reached England. He met
+his death on the journey under circumstances which involved a
+coincidence too remarkable to have happened otherwise than in real
+life.”
+
+In spite of himself Cheyne was interested. Price glanced at him and
+went on:
+
+“One night at the end of the voyage when they were running without
+lights up the Channel, a large steamer going in the same direction as
+themselves suddenly loomed up out of the darkness and struck them
+heavily on the starboard quarter. My cousin was on deck, though not in
+charge. He saw the outlines of the vessel as she was closing in, and
+he also saw that a passenger was standing at the rail just where the
+contact was about to take place. At the risk of his own life he sprang
+forward and dragged the man back. Unfortunately he was not in time to
+save him, for a falling spar broke his back and only just missed
+killing Arnold. Then, as you may have guessed from what I said, it
+turned out that the passenger was none other than St. John Price. My
+cousin had tried to save his own uncle.”
+
+Once more Price paused, but Cheyne still remaining silent, he
+continued:
+
+“St. John lingered for some hours, during most of which time he was
+conscious, and it was then that he told Arnold about his belief, that
+he, Arnold, was heir to the barony of Hull. I don’t know, Mr. Cheyne,
+if you are aware that the present Lord Hull is a man well on to eighty
+and is in failing health. He has no known heir, and unless some
+claimant comes forward speedily, the title will in the course of
+nature become extinct. As you probably know also, Lord Hull is a man
+of enormous wealth. St. John Price believed that he, Arnold, and
+myself were all descended from the eldest son of Francis, the fifth
+Baron Hull. This man had lived an evil, dissolute life, and England
+having become too hot to hold him, he had sailed for South Africa in
+the early part of the last century. On his father’s death search was
+made for him, but without result, and the second son, Alwyn,
+inherited. St. John had after many years’ labor traced what he
+believed was a lineal descent from the scapegrace, and he had utilized
+his visit to South Africa to make further inquiries. There he had
+unearthed the record of a marriage, which, he believed, completed the
+proofs he sought. As he knew he was dying, he handed over the attested
+copy of the marriage certificate to Arnold, at the same time making a
+new will leaving all the other documents in the case to Arnold also.
+
+“When Arnold received his next leave he went fully into the matter
+with his solicitor, only to find that one document, the register of a
+birth, was missing. Without this he could scarcely hope to win his
+case. The evidence of the other papers tended to show that the birth
+had taken place in India, probably at Bombay, and Arnold therefore
+applied for a transfer into a service which brought him to that
+country, in the hope that he would have an opportunity to pursue his
+researches at first hand. It was there that I met him—I am junior
+partner in Swanson, Reid & Price’s of that city—and he told me all
+that I have told you.
+
+“Before going to the East he sealed up the papers referring to the
+matter and sent them to you. If you will pardon my saying so, I think
+that there he made a mistake. But he explained that he knew too much
+about lawyers to leave anything in their hands, that they would fight
+the case for their own fees whether there was any chance of winning it
+or not, and that he wanted the papers to be in the hands of an honest
+man in case of his death.
+
+“I pointed out that I was interested in the matter also, but he said
+No, that he was the heir and that during his life the affair concerned
+him alone. Needless to say, we parted on bad terms.
+
+“Now, Mr. Cheyne, you can see why I want those papers. Though Arnold
+is my cousin I doubt his honesty. I want to see exactly how we both
+stand. I want nothing but what is fair—as a matter of fact I can get
+nothing but what is fair—the law wouldn’t allow it. But I don’t want
+to be done. If I had the papers I would show them to a first-rate
+lawyer. If Arnold is entitled to succeed he will do so, if I am the
+heir I shall, if neither of us no harm is done. We can only get what
+the law allows us. But in any case I give my word of honor that, if I
+succeed, Arnold shall never want for anything in reason.”
+
+Price was speaking earnestly and his manner carried conviction to
+Cheyne. Without waiting for a reply he proceeded.
+
+“You, Mr. Cheyne, if you will excuse my saying it, are an outsider in
+the matter. Whether Arnold or I or neither of us succeeds is nothing
+to you. You want to do only what is fair to Arnold, and you have my
+most solemn promise that that is all I propose. If you enable me to
+test our respective positions by handing over the papers to me you
+will not be letting Arnold down.”
+
+When Price ceased speaking there was silence between the two men as
+Cheyne thought over what he had heard. Price’s manner was convincing,
+and as far as Cheyne could form an opinion, the story might be true.
+It certainly explained the facts adequately, and Cheyne believed that
+the statements about Lord Hull were correct. All the same he did not
+believe this man was out for a square deal. If he could only get what
+the law allowed, would not the same apply whether he or Arnold
+conducted the affair? Cheyne, moreover, was still sore from his
+treatment, and he determined he would not discuss the matter until he
+had received satisfactory replies to one or two personal questions.
+
+“Did you drug me in the Edgecombe Hotel in Plymouth a week ago and
+then go through my pockets, and did you the same evening burgle my
+house, break open my safe, and mishandle my servants?”
+
+It was not exactly a tactful question, but Price answered it
+cheerfully and without hesitation.
+
+“Not in person, but I admit my agents did these things. For these also
+I am anxious to apologize.”
+
+“Your apologies won’t prevent your having a lengthened acquaintance
+with the inside of a prison,” Cheyne snarled, his rage flickering up
+at the recollection of his injuries. “How do your confederates come to
+be interested?”
+
+“Bought,” the other admitted sweetly. “I had no other way of getting
+help. I have paid them twenty pounds on account and they will get a
+thousand guineas each if my claim is upheld.”
+
+“A self-confessed thief and crook as well as a liar! And you expect me
+to believe in your good intentions towards Arnold Price!”
+
+An unpleasant look passed across the other’s face, but he spoke
+calmly.
+
+“That may be all very well and very true if you like, but it doesn’t
+advance the situation. The question now is: Are you prepared to hand
+over the letter? Nothing else seems to me to matter.”
+
+“Why did you not come to me like an ordinary honest man and tell me
+your story? What induced you to launch out into all this complicated
+network of crime?”
+
+Price smiled whimsically.
+
+“Well, you might surely guess that,” he answered. “Suppose you had
+refused to give me the letter, how was I to know that you would not
+have put it beyond my reach? I couldn’t take the risk.”
+
+“Suppose I refuse to give it to you now?”
+
+“You won’t, Mr. Cheyne. No one in your position could. Circumstances
+are too strong for you, and you can hand it over and retain your honor
+absolutely untarnished. I do not wish to urge you to a decision. If
+you would prefer to take today to think it over, by all means do so. I
+sent the wire to Mrs. Cheyne shortly before six last night, so she
+will not be uneasy about you.”
+
+Though the words were politely spoken, the threat behind them was
+unmistakable and fell with sinister intent on the listener’s ears.
+Rapidly Cheyne considered the situation. This ruffian was right. No
+one in such a situation could resist indefinitely. It was true he
+could refuse his consent at the moment, but the question would come up
+again and again until at last he would have to give way. He knew it,
+and he felt that unless there was a strong chance of victory, he could
+not stand the hours of suffering which a further refusal would entail.
+No, bitter as the conclusion was, he felt he must for the moment admit
+defeat, trusting later to getting his own back. He turned back to
+Price.
+
+“I haven’t got the letter here. I can only get it for you if you put
+me ashore.”
+
+That this was a victory for Price was evident, but the young man
+showed no elation. He carefully avoided anything in the nature of a
+taunt, and spoke in a quiet, businesslike way.
+
+“We might be able to arrange that. Where is the letter?”
+
+“At my bank in Dartmouth.”
+
+“Then the matter is quite simple. All you have to do is to write to
+the manager to send the letter to an address I shall give you.
+Directly you do so you shall have the best food and drink on the
+launch, and directly the letter is in our hands you will be put ashore
+close to your home.”
+
+Cheyne still hesitated.
+
+“I’ll do it provided you can prove to me your statements. How am I to
+know that you will keep your word? How am I to know that you won’t get
+the letter and then murder me?”
+
+“I’m afraid you can’t know that. I would gladly prove it to you, but
+you must see that it’s just not possible. I give you my solemn word of
+honor and you’ll have to accept it because there is nothing else you
+can do.”
+
+Cheyne demurred further, but as Price showed signs of retreating and
+leaving him to think it over until the evening, he hastily agreed to
+write the letter. Immediately the electric light came on in his cabin
+and Price passed in a couple of sheets of notepaper and envelopes.
+Cheyne gazed at them in surprise. They were of a familiar silurian
+gray and the sheets bore in tiny blue embossed letters the words
+“Warren Lodge, Dartmouth, S. Devon.”
+
+“Why, it’s my own paper,” he exclaimed, and Price with a smile
+admitted that in view of some development like the present, his agents
+had taken the precaution to annex a few sheets when paying their call
+to Cheyne’s home.
+
+“If you will ask your manager to send the letter to Herbert Taverner,
+Esq., Royal Hotel, Weymouth, it will meet the case. Taverner is my
+agent, and as soon as it is in his hands I will set you ashore at
+Johnson’s wharf.”
+
+Seeing there was no help for it, Cheyne wrote the letter. Price read
+it carefully, then sealed it in its envelope. Immediately after he
+handed through the panel a tumbler of whisky and water, then hurried
+off, saying he was going to dispatch the letter and bring Cheyne his
+breakfast.
+
+Oh, the unspeakable delight of that drink! Cheyne thought he had never
+before experienced any sensation approaching it in satisfaction. He
+swallowed it in great gulps, and when in a few moments Price returned,
+he demanded more, and again more.
+
+His thirst assuaged, hunger asserted itself, and for the next
+half-hour Cheyne had the time of his life as Price handed in through
+the panel a plate of smoking ham and eggs, fragrant coffee, toast,
+butter, marmalade and the like. At last with a sigh of relief Cheyne
+lit his pipe, while Price passed in blankets and rugs to make up a bed
+in one of the bunks. Some books and magazines followed and a handbell,
+which Price told him to ring if he wanted anything.
+
+Comfortable in body and fairly easy in mind, Cheyne made up his bed
+and promptly fell asleep. It was afternoon when he awoke, and on
+ringing the bell, Price appeared with a well-cooked lunch. The evening
+passed comfortably if tediously and that night Cheyne slept well.
+
+Next day and next night dragged slowly away. Cheyne was well looked
+after and supplied with everything he required, but the confinement
+grew more and more irksome. However, he could not help himself and he
+had to admit he might have fared worse, as he lay smoking in his bunk
+and brooding over schemes to get even with the men who had tricked
+him.
+
+About half-past ten on the second morning he suddenly heard oars
+approaching, followed by the sounds of a boat coming alongside and
+some one climbing on board. A few moments later Price appeared at the
+panel.
+
+“You will be pleased to hear, Mr. Cheyne, that we have received the
+letter safely. We are getting under way at once and you will be home
+in less than three hours.”
+
+Presently the motor started, and soon the slow, easy roll showed they
+were out in the open breasting the Channel ground swell. After a
+couple of hours, Price appeared with his customary tray.
+
+“We are just coming into the estuary of the Dart,” he said. “I thought
+perhaps you would have a bit of lunch before going ashore.”
+
+The meal, like its fellows, was surprisingly well cooked and served,
+and Cheyne did full justice to it. By the time he had finished the
+motion of the boat had subsided and it was evident they were in
+sheltered waters. Some minutes later the motor stopped, the anchor was
+dropped, and someone got into a boat and rowed off. A quarter of an
+hour passed and then the boat returned, and to Cheyne’s misgivings and
+growing concern, the motor started again. But after a very few minutes
+it once more stopped and Price appeared at the panel.
+
+“Now, Mr. Cheyne, the time has come for us to say good-bye. For
+obvious reasons I am afraid we shall have to ask you to row yourself
+ashore, but the tide is flowing and you will have no difficulty in
+that. But before parting I wish to warn you very earnestly for your
+own sake and your own safety not to attempt to follow us or to set the
+police on our track. Believe me, I am not speaking idly when I assure
+you that we cannot brook interference with our plans. We wish to avoid
+‘removals’,” he lingered over the word and a sinister gleam came into
+his eyes, “but please understand we shall not hesitate if there is no
+other way. And if you try to give trouble there will be in your case
+no other way. Take my advice and be wise enough to forget this little
+episode.” He took a small automatic pistol from his pocket and
+balanced it before the panel. “I warn you most earnestly that if you
+attempt to make trouble it will mean your death. And with regard to
+trying to follow us, please remember that this launch has the heels of
+any craft in the district and that we have a safe hiding-place not far
+away.”
+
+As Price finished speaking he unlocked and threw open the cabin door,
+motioning his prisoner to follow him on deck. There Cheyne saw that
+they were far down the estuary, in fact, nearly opposite Warren Lodge
+and a mile or more from the town.
+
+“I thought you were going to take me to Johnson’s jetty,” he remarked.
+
+“An obvious precaution,” the other returned smoothly. “I trust you
+won’t mind.”
+
+The freshness and the freedom of the deck were inexpressibly
+delightful to Cheyne after his long confinement in the stuffy cabin.
+He stood drawing deep draughts of the keen invigorating air into his
+lungs, as he gazed at the familiar shores of the estuary, lighted up
+in the brilliant April sunlight. Nature seemed in an optimistic mood
+and Cheyne, in spite of his experiences and Price’s gruesome remarks,
+felt optimistic also. He still felt he would devote all his energies
+to getting even with the scoundrels who had robbed him, but he no
+longer regarded them with a sullen hatred. Rather the view of the
+affair as a game in which he was pitting his wits against theirs
+gained force in his mind, and he looked forward with zest to turning
+the tables upon them in the not too distant future.
+
+In the launch’s dinghy, which was made fast astern, was Lewisham,
+engaged in untying the painter of a second dinghy which bore on its
+stern board the words “S. Johnson, Dartmouth.” The explanation of the
+starting and stopping of the motor now became clear. The conspirators
+had evidently gone in to pick up this boat and had towed it down the
+estuary so as to insure their escape before Cheyne could reach the
+shore to lodge any information against them.
+
+The painter untied, Lewisham passed it aboard the launch and Price,
+drawing the boat up to the gunwale, motioned Cheyne into it.
+
+“As I said, I’m sorry we shall have to ask you to row yourself ashore,
+but the run of the tide will help you. Good-bye, Mr. Cheyne. I deeply
+regret all the inconvenience you have suffered, and most earnestly I
+urge you to regard the warning which I have given you.”
+
+As he spoke he threw the end of the painter into the dinghy and, the
+launch’s motor starting, she drew quickly ahead, leaving Cheyne seated
+in the small boat.
+
+Full of an idea which had just flashed into his mind, the latter
+seized the oars and began pulling with all his might not for Johnson’s
+jetty, but for the shore immediately opposite. But try as he would, he
+did not reach it before the launch _Enid_ had become a mere dot on the
+seaward horizon.
+
+
+
+Chapter V
+
+An Amateur Sleuth
+
+Cheyne’s great idea was that instead of proceeding directly to the
+police station and lodging an information against his captors, as he
+had at first intended, he should himself attempt to follow them to
+their lair. To enter upon a battle of wits with such men would be a
+sport more thrilling than big game hunting, more exciting than war,
+and if by his own unaided efforts he could bring about their undoing
+he would not only restore his self-respect, which had suffered a nasty
+jar, but might even recover for Arnold Price the documents which he
+required for his claim to the barony of Hull.
+
+Whether he was wise in this decision was another matter, but with
+Maxwell Cheyne impulse ruled rather than colder reason, the desire of
+the moment rather than adherence to calculated plan. Therefore
+directly a way in which he could begin the struggle occurred to him,
+he was all eagerness to set about carrying it out.
+
+The essence of his plan was haste, and he therefore bent lustily to
+his oars, sending the tiny craft bounding over the wavelets of the
+estuary and leaving a wake of bubbles from its foaming stem. In a few
+minutes he had reached the shore immediately beneath Warren Lodge,
+tied the painter round a convenient boulder, and racing over the rocky
+beach, had set off running towards the house.
+
+It was a short though stiff climb, but he did not spare himself, and
+he reached the garden wall within three minutes of leaving the boat.
+As he turned in through the gate he looked back over the panorama of
+sea, the whole expanse of which was visible from this point, measuring
+with his eye the distance to Inner Froward Point, the headland at the
+opposite side of the bay, around which the _Enid_ had just
+disappeared. She was going east, up channel, but he did not think she
+was traveling fast enough to defeat his plans.
+
+Another minute brought him to the house, and there, in less time than
+it takes to tell, he had seen his sister, explained that he might not
+be back that night, obtained some money, donned his leggings and
+waterproof, and starting up his motor bike, had set off to ride into
+Dartmouth.
+
+Pausing for a moment at the boat slip to tell Johnson of the
+whereabouts of his dinghy, he reached the ferry and got across the
+river to Kingswear with the minimum of delay possible. Then once more
+mounting his machine, he rode rapidly off towards the east.
+
+The land lying eastward of Dartmouth forms a peninsula shaped roughly
+like an inverted cone, truncated, and connected to the mainland by a
+broad isthmus at the northwest corner. The west side is bounded by the
+river Dart, with Dartmouth and Kingswear to the southwest, while on
+the other three sides is the sea. Brixham is a small town at the
+northeast corner, while further north beyond the isthmus are the
+larger towns of Paignton and, across Tor Bay, Torquay.
+
+Most of the ground on the peninsula is high, and the road from
+Kingswear in the southwest corner to Brixham in the northeast crosses
+a range of hills from which a good view of Tor Bay and the sea to the
+north and east is obtainable. Should the _Enid_ have been bound for
+Torquay, Teignmouth, Exmouth, or any of the seaports close by, she
+would pass within view of this road, whereas if she was going right up
+Channel past Portland Bill she would go nearly due east from the
+Froward Points. Cheyne’s hope was that he should reach this viewpoint
+before she would have had time to get out of sight had she been on the
+former course, so that her presence or absence would indicate the
+route she was pursuing.
+
+But when, having reached the place, he found that no trace of the
+_Enid_ was to be seen, he realized that he had made a mistake. From
+Inner Froward Point to Brixham was only about seven miles, to Paignton
+about ten, and to Torquay eleven or twelve. The longest of these
+distances the launch should do in about twenty-five minutes, and as in
+spite of all his haste no less than forty-seven minutes had elapsed
+since he stepped into the dinghy, the test was evidently useless.
+
+But having come so far, he was not going to turn back without making
+some further effort. The afternoon was still young, the day was fine,
+he had had his lunch and cycling was pleasant. He would ride along the
+coast and make some inquiries.
+
+He dropped down the hill into Brixham, and turning to the left, pulled
+up at the little harbor. A glance showed him that the _Enid_ was not
+there. He therefore turned his machine, and starting once more, ran
+the five miles odd to Paignton at something well above the legal
+limit.
+
+Inquiries at the pier produced no result, but as he turned away he had
+a stroke of unexpected luck. Meeting a coastguard, he stopped and
+questioned him, and was overjoyed when the man told him that though no
+launch had come into Paignton that morning, he had about
+three-quarters of an hour earlier seen one crossing the bay from the
+south and evidently making for Torquay.
+
+Quivering with eagerness, Cheyne once more started up his bicycle. He
+took the three miles to Torquay at a reckless speed and there received
+his reward. Lying at moorings in the inner harbor was the _Enid_.
+
+Leaving the bicycle in charge of a boy, Cheyne stepped up to a group
+of longshoremen and made his inquiries. Yes, the launch there had just
+come in, half an hour or more back. Two men had come off her and had
+handed her over to Hugh Leigh, the boatman. Leigh was a tall stout man
+with a black beard: in fact, there he was himself behind that yellow
+and white boat.
+
+Impetuous though he was, Cheyne’s knowledge of human nature told him
+that in dealing with his fellows the more haste frequently meant the
+less speed. He therefore curbed his impatience and took a leisurely
+tone with the boatman.
+
+“Good-day to you,” he began. “I see you have the _Enid_ there. Is she
+long in?”
+
+“’Bout ’arf an hour, sir,” the man returned.
+
+“I was to have met her,” Cheyne went on, “but I’m afraid I have missed
+my friends. You don’t happen to know which direction they went in?”
+
+“Took a keb, sir: taxi. Went towards the station.”
+
+The station! That was an idea at least worth investigating. He slipped
+the man a couple of shillings lest his good offices should be required
+in the future, and hurrying back to his bicycle was soon at the place
+in question. Here, though he could find no trace of his quarry, he
+learned that a train had left for Newton Abbot at 3:33—five minutes
+earlier. It looked very much as if his friends had traveled by it.
+
+For those who are not clear as to the geography of South Devon, it may
+be explained that Newton Abbot lies on the main line of the Great
+Western Railway between Paddington and Cornwall, with Exeter twenty
+miles to the northeast and Plymouth some thirty odd to the southwest.
+At Newton Abbot the line throws off a spur, which, passing through
+Torquay and Paignton, has its terminus at Kingswear, from which there
+is a ferry connection to Dartmouth on the opposite side of the river.
+From Torquay to Newton Abbot is only about six miles, and there is a
+good road between the two. Cheyne, therefore, hearing that the train
+had left only five minutes earlier and knowing that there would be a
+delay at the junction waiting for the main line train, at once saw
+that he had a good chance of overtaking it.
+
+He did not stop to ask questions, but leaping once more on his
+machine, did the six miles at the highest speed he dared. At precisely
+4:00 P.M. he pushed the bicycle into Newton Abbot station, and handing
+half a crown to a porter, told him to look after it until his return.
+
+Hasty inquiries informed him that the train with which that from
+Torquay connected was a slow local from Plymouth to Exeter. It had not
+yet arrived, but was due directly. It stopped for seven minutes, being
+scheduled out at 4:10 P.M. On chance Cheyne bought a third single to
+Exeter, and putting up his collar, pulling down his hat over his eyes
+and affecting a stoop, he passed on to the platform. A few people were
+waiting, but a glance told him that neither Price nor Lewisham was
+among them.
+
+As, however, they might be watching from the shelter of one of the
+waiting rooms, he strolled away towards the Exeter end of the
+platform. As he did so the train came in from Plymouth, the engine
+stopping just opposite where he was standing. He began to move back,
+so as to keep a sharp eye on those getting in. But at once a familiar
+figure caught his eye and he stood for a moment motionless.
+
+The coach next the engine was a third, and in the corner of its fourth
+compartment sat Lewisham!
+
+Fortunately he was sitting with his back to the engine and he did not
+see Cheyne approaching from behind. Fortunately, also, the opposite
+corner was occupied by a lady, as, had Price been there, Cheyne would
+unquestionably have been discovered.
+
+Retreating quickly, but with triumph in his heart, Cheyne got into the
+end compartment of the coach. It was already occupied by three other
+men, two sitting in the corner seats next the platform, the third with
+his back to the engine at the opposite end. Cheyne dropped into the
+remaining corner seat—facing the engine and next the corridor. He did
+not then realize the important issues that hung on his having taken up
+this position, but later he marveled at the lucky chance which had
+placed him there.
+
+As the train proceeded he had an opportunity, for the first time since
+embarking on this wild chase, of calmly considering the position, and
+he at once saw that the fugitives’ moves up to the present had been
+dictated by their circumstances and were almost obligatory.
+
+First, he now understood that they _must_ have landed at Brixham,
+Paignton, or Torquay, and of these Torquay was obviously most suitable
+to their purpose, being larger than the others and their arrival
+therefore attracting correspondingly less attention. But they must
+have landed at one of the three places, as they were the only ports
+which they could reach before he, Cheyne, would have had time to give
+the alarm. Suppose he had lodged information with the police
+immediately on getting ashore, it would have been simply impossible
+for the others to have entered any other port without fear of arrest.
+But at Paignton or Torquay they were safe. By no possible chance could
+the machinery of the law have been set in motion in time to apprehend
+them.
+
+He saw also how the men came to be seated in the train from Plymouth
+when it reached Newton Abbot, and here again he was lost in admiration
+at the way in which the pair had laid their plans. The first station
+on the Plymouth side of Newton Abbot was Totnes, and from Torquay to
+Totnes by road was a matter of only some ten miles. They would just
+have had time to do the distance, and there was no doubt that Totnes
+was the place to which their taxi had taken them. In the event,
+therefore, of an immediate chase, there was every chance of the scent
+being temporarily lost at Torquay.
+
+These thoughts had scarcely passed through Cheyne’s mind when the
+event happened which caused him to congratulate himself on the seat he
+was occupying. At the extreme end of the coach, immediately in advance
+of his compartment, was the lavatory, and at this moment, just as they
+were stopping at Teignmouth, a man carrying a small kitbag passed
+along the corridor and entered. Approaching from behind Cheyne, he did
+not see the latter’s face, but Cheyne saw him. It was Price!
+
+Cheyne took an engagement book from his pocket and bent low over it,
+lest the other should recognize him on his return. But Price remained
+in the lavatory until they reached Dawlish, and here another stroke of
+luck was in store for Cheyne. At Dawlish, at which they stopped a few
+moments later, his vis-à-vis alighted, and Cheyne immediately changed
+his seat. When, therefore, just before the train started, Price left
+the lavatory, he again approached Cheyne from behind and again failed
+to see his face.
+
+As he passed down the corridor Cheyne stared at him. While in the
+lavatory he had effected a wondrous change in his appearance. Gone now
+was the small dark mustache and the glasses, his hat was of a
+different type and his overcoat of a different color. Cheyne watched
+him pause hesitatingly at the door of the next compartment and finally
+enter.
+
+For some moments as the train rattled along towards Exeter, Cheyne
+failed to grasp the significance of this last move. Then he saw that
+it was, as usual, part of a well-thought-out scheme. Approaching
+Teignmouth, Price had evidently left his compartment—almost certainly
+the fourth, where Lewisham sat—as if he were about to alight at the
+station. Instead of doing so, he had entered the lavatory. Disguised,
+or, more probably, with a previous disguise removed, he had left it
+before the train started from Dawlish, and appearing at the door of
+the second compartment, had attempted to convey the idea, almost
+certainly with success, that he had just joined the train.
+
+A further thought made Cheyne swing across again to the seat facing
+the engine. They were approaching Starcross. Would Lewisham adopt the
+same subterfuge at this station? But he did not, and they reached
+Exeter without further adventure.
+
+The train going no further, all passengers had to alight. Cheyne was
+in no hurry to move, and by the time he left the carriage Price and
+Lewisham were already far down the platform. He wished that he in his
+turn could find a false mustache and glasses, but he realized that if
+he kept his face hidden, his clothes were already a satisfactory
+disguise. He watched the two men begin to pace the platform, and soon
+felt satisfied that they were proceeding by a later train.
+
+They had reached Exeter at 5:02 P.M. Two expresses left the station
+shortly after, the 5:25 for Liverpool, Manchester and the north, and
+the 5:42 for London. Cheyne sat down on a deserted seat near the end
+of the platform and bent his head over his notebook while he watched
+the others.
+
+The 5:25 for the north arrived and left, and still the two men
+continued pacing up and down. “For London,” thought Cheyne, and
+slipping off to the booking hall he bought a first single for
+Paddington. If the men were traveling third, he would be better in a
+different class.
+
+When the London express rolled majestically in, Price and Lewisham
+entered a third near the front of the train. Satisfied that he was
+still unobserved, Cheyne got into the first class diner farther back.
+He had not been very close to the men, but he noticed that Lewisham
+had also made some alteration in his appearance, which explained his
+not having changed in the lavatory on the local train.
+
+The express was very fast, stopping only once—at Taunton. Here Cheyne,
+having satisfied himself that his quarry had not alighted, settled
+himself with an easy mind to await the arrival at Paddington. He dined
+luxuriously, and when at nine precisely they drew up in the terminus,
+he felt extremely fit and ready for any adventure that might offer
+itself.
+
+From the pages of the many works of detective fiction which he had at
+one time or another digested, he knew exactly what to do. Jumping out
+as the train came to rest, he hurried along the platform until he had
+a view of the carriage in which the others had traveled. Then, keeping
+carefully in the background, he awaited developments.
+
+Soon he saw the men alight, cross the platform and engage a taxi. This
+move also he was prepared for. Taking a taxi in his turn, he bent
+forward and said to the driver what the sleuths of his novels had so
+often said to their drivers in similar circumstances: “Follow that
+taxi. Ten bob extra if you keep it in sight.”
+
+The driver looked at him curiously, but all he said was: “Right y’are,
+guv’nor,” and they slipped out at the heels of the other vehicle into
+the crowded streets.
+
+Cheyne’s driver was a skillful man and they kept steadily behind the
+quarry, not close enough to excite suspicion, but too near to run any
+risk of being shaken off. Cheyne was chuckling excitedly and hugging
+himself at the success of his efforts thus far when, with the
+extraordinary capriciousness that Fate so often shows, his luck
+turned.
+
+They had passed down Praed Street and turned up Edgware Road, and it
+was just where the latter merges into Maida Vale that the blow fell.
+Here the street was up and the traffic was congested. Both vehicles
+slackened down, but whereas the leader got through without a stop,
+Cheyne’s was held up to give the road to cross traffic. In vain Cheyne
+chafed and fretted; the raised arm of the law could not be
+disregarded, and when at last they were free to go forward, all trace
+of the other taxi had vanished.
+
+In vain the driver put on a spurt. There were scores of vehicles ahead
+and a thousand and one turnings off the straight road. In a few
+minutes Cheyne had to recognize that the game was up and that he had
+lost his chance.
+
+He stopped and took counsel with his driver, with the result that he
+decided to go back to Paddington in the hope that when the other taxi
+had completed its run it would return to the station rank. He had been
+near enough to take its number, and his man was able to give him the
+other driver’s address, in case the latter went home instead of to the
+station.
+
+Having reserved a room at the Station Hotel and written a brief note
+to his sister saying that his business had brought him to London and
+that he would let her know when he was returning, he lit his pipe, and
+turning up the collar of his coat, fell to pacing up and down the
+platform alongside the cab rank. He was relieved to find that vehicles
+were still turning up and taking their places at the end of the line,
+and he eagerly scanned the number plate of each arrival. For endless
+aeons of time he seemed to wait, and then at last, a few minutes
+before ten, his patience was rewarded. Taxi Z1729 suddenly appeared
+and drew into position.
+
+In a moment Cheyne was beside its driver.
+
+“Ten bob over the fare if you’ll take me quickly to where you set down
+those two men you got off the Cornish express,” he said in a low eager
+voice.
+
+This man also looked at him curiously and answered, “Right y’are,
+guv’nor,” then having paused to say something to the driver of the
+leading car on the rank, they turned out into Praed Street.
+
+The man drove rapidly along Edgware Road, through Maida Vale and on
+into a part of the town unfamiliar to Cheyne. As they rattled through
+the endless streets Cheyne instructed him not to stop at the exact
+place, but slightly short of it, as he wished to complete the journey
+on foot. It seemed a very long distance, but still the man kept
+steadily on. The town was now taking on a suburban appearance and here
+and there vacant building lots were to be seen.
+
+Presently they passed an ornate building which Cheyne recongized as
+the tube station at Hendon, and shortly afterwards the vehicle
+stopped. Cheyne got out and looked about him, while the driver
+explained the lie of the land.
+
+They had turned at right angles off the main thoroughfare leading from
+town into a road which bore the imposing title of “Hopefield Avenue.”
+This penetrated into what seemed to be an estate recently handed over
+to the jerry-builder, for all around were small detached and
+semi-detached houses in various stages of construction. Many were
+complete and occupied, but in scores of other cases the vacant lots
+still remained, untouched save for their “To let for building”
+signboards.
+
+Leaving the taxi in a deserted crossroad, the driver signified to
+Cheyne that they should go forward on foot. A hundred yards farther on
+they reached another cross-road—the place was laid out in squares like
+an American city—and there the driver pointed to a house in the
+opposite angle, intimating that this was their goal.
+
+It was a small detached villa surrounded by a privet hedge and a few
+small trees and shrubs, evidently not long planted. The two adjoining
+lots, both along Hopefield Avenue and down the crossroad—Alwyn Road,
+Cheyne saw its name was—were vacant. Facing it on both streets were
+finished and occupied houses, but in the angle diagonally opposite was
+a new building whose walls were only half up.
+
+Thrilled with eager anticipation and excitement, Cheyne dismissed the
+driver with his ten-shilling tip and then turned to examine his
+surroundings more carefully, and to devise a plan of campaign for his
+attack on the enemy’s stronghold.
+
+He began by crossing Alwyn Road and walking along Hopefield Avenue
+past the house, while he examined it as well as he could by the light
+of the street lamps. It was a two-story building of rather pleasing
+design, apparently quite new, and conforming to the type of small
+suburban villas springing up by thousands all around London. As far as
+he could make out it had the usual rectangular plan, a red-tiled roof
+with deep overhanging eaves and a large porch with above it a balcony,
+roofed over but open in front. A narrow walk edged with flower beds
+led across the forty or fifty feet of lawn between the road and the
+hall door. On the green gate Cheyne could just make out the words
+“Laurel Lodge” in white letters. So far as he could see the house
+appeared to be deserted, the windows and fanlight being in darkness.
+After the two vacant lots was a half-finished house.
+
+Returning presently, he passed the house again, this time rounding its
+corner and walking down Alwyn Road. Between the first vacant lot and
+Laurel Lodge ran a narrow lane, evidently intended to be the approach
+to the back premises of the future houses.
+
+Glancing round and seeing that no one was in sight, Cheyne slipped
+into this lane, and crouching behind a shrub, examined the back of
+Laurel Lodge.
+
+It was very dark in the lane. Presently it would be lighter, as a
+quadrant moon was rising, but for the moment everything outside the
+radius of the street lamps was hidden in a black pall. The outline of
+the house was just discernible against the sky, though Cheyne could
+not from here make out the details of its construction. But, standing
+out sharply against its black background, was one brightly illuminated
+rectangle—a window on the first floor.
+
+The window was open at the top, and the light colored blind was pulled
+down, though even from where he stood Cheyne could see that it did not
+entirely reach the bottom of the opening. Even as he watched a shadow
+appeared on the blind. It was a man’s head and shoulders and it
+remained steady for a moment, then moved slowly out of sight.
+
+Stealthily Cheyne edged his way forward. The back premises of Laurel
+Lodge were separated from the lane by a gate, and this Cheyne opened
+silently, passing within. Gradually he worked his way round a tiny
+greenhouse and between a few flower beds until he reached the wall of
+the house. There he listened intently, but no sound came from above.
+
+“If only I could get up to the window,” he thought, “I could see in
+under the blind.”
+
+But there was no roof or tree upon which he might have climbed, and he
+stood motionless, undecided what to do next.
+
+Suddenly an idea occurred to him, and full once more of eager
+excitement, he carefully retraced his steps until he reached the lane.
+It ran on between rough wire palings, past the two vacant lots and
+behind the adjoining half-finished house. Cheyne followed it until he
+reached the half-completed building, and then entering, he began to
+search for a short ladder.
+
+Every moment the light of the rising moon was increasing, and after
+stumbling about and making noises which sent him into a cold sweat of
+apprehension, he succeeded, partly by sight and partly by feeling, in
+finding what he wanted. Then with great care he lifted it into the
+lane and bore it back to Laurel Lodge.
+
+With infinite pains he carried it through the gate, round the
+greenhouse, and past the flower beds to the house. Then fixing the
+bottom on the grass plot which surrounded the building, he lowered it
+gently against the wall at the side of the window.
+
+A moment later he reached the slot of clear glass showing beneath the
+blind and peered into the room. There he saw a sight so unexpected
+that in spite of his precarious position a cry of surprise all but
+escaped him.
+
+
+
+Chapter VI
+
+The House in Hopefield Avenue
+
+The room was of medium size and plainly though comfortably furnished
+as a man’s study or smoking room. In one corner was a small roll-top
+desk, in another a table bearing books and papers and a tantalus. Two
+large leather-covered armchairs stood one at each side of the grate,
+in which burned a cheerful fire. In the corner opposite the window was
+a press or cupboard built into the wall, and in front of this all
+furniture had been cleared away, leaving a wide unoccupied space on
+the floor. Beside the wall near this space was a large camera, already
+set up, and on a table beside it lay a flashlight apparatus and two
+dark slides, apparently of full plate size.
+
+In the room were four persons, and it was the identity of the last of
+these that had so amazed Cheyne. Standing beside the camera were Price
+and Lewisham, while no less a personage than Mr. Hubert Parkes of
+Edgecombe Hotel notoriety stood looking on with his back to the fire.
+But it was not on these that Cheyne’s eyes were glued. Reclining in
+one of the armchairs with her feet on the fender was Susan, the house
+and parlormaid at Warren Lodge!
+
+Cheyne gasped. Here was the explanation of one mystery at all events.
+He saw now where the gang’s knowledge of himself and his surroundings
+had been obtained. He remembered that he had discussed his visit to
+Plymouth during dinner, a day or two before the event. Susan had been
+waiting at table, and Susan had been the channel through which the
+information had been passed on. And the burglary! He could see Susan’s
+hand in this also. In all probability she had taken full advantage of
+her opportunities to make a thorough search of the house for Price’s
+letter, and it was doubtless only when it became necessary to deal
+with the safe that her friends had been called in. Probably also she
+had been waiting for them, and had admitted them and shown them over
+the house before submitting to be tied up as a blind to mislead the
+detectives who would presumably be called in. Cheyne suspected also
+that Price’s visit was timed at a propitious moment, when he himself
+was available and with a free afternoon to be filled up. No doubt
+Susan’s part in the affair had been vital to its success.
+
+But her participation also showed the extraordinary importance which
+the conspirators attached to the letter. Susan’s makeup for the part
+she was to play, the forging of her references, her installation in
+the Cheyne household and her undertaking nearly two months of domestic
+service in order to gain the document, showed a tenacity of purpose
+which could only have been evoked to attain some urgent end. Evidently
+the gang believed that Price’s claim on the barony was good, and
+evidently the others intended to share the spoils.
+
+Cheyne watched breathlessly what was going on in the room, and to his
+delight he presently found that through the open upper sash he could
+also hear a good deal of what was said.
+
+The camera had been set up to face the cupboard, and Cheyne now saw
+that a document of some kind was fastened with drawing pins to its
+door. Price put his head under the cloth and moved the camera back and
+forwards, evidently focusing it on the document. Lewisham lifted and
+examined the flashlight apparatus, then stood waiting. Parkes stooped
+and said something in a low tone to Susan, at which she laughed
+sarcastically.
+
+“Do you think two will be enough or should we take four?” said Price
+when he had arranged the camera to his satisfaction.
+
+“Two, I should say,” Parkes answered. “Even if we lost the tracing,
+two negatives should be an ample record.”
+
+“I should take four,” Lewisham declared. “After all we’ve done what is
+the extra trouble of developing a couple of negatives? One or two
+might be failures.”
+
+“Sime is right,” Price decided. “I shall take four.”
+
+Sime? Cheyne thought perplexedly that the man who had run the motor on
+the _Enid_ had been introduced to him as Lewisham. Sime, was it? Then
+it occurred to him that probably each one of the four had met him
+under an assumed name, and he listened even more intently in the hope
+of finding this out.
+
+“I wonder if that ass Cheyne put the cops on to us,” went on Sime to
+the company generally. “James talked to him like a father and he
+seemed to swallow it all down as sweet as milk. Lordy! But you should
+have heard old James spouting. He rattled off his patter like a good
+’un. Fresh absurdities each time and all that. Didn’t you, James?”
+
+“He didn’t give much trouble,” Price replied. “I shouldn’t have
+believed anyone would have given in as soft as he did. I pitched him a
+yarn about yours truly being heir to the barony of Hull that wouldn’t
+have deceived an oyster, and he sucked it in like a sponge. But it
+wasn’t that that worked. It was keeping him without water that did the
+trick. When I offered him another day to think it over he collapsed
+like a pricked bubble.”
+
+“So would you if you had been in his shoes,” Susan declared. “I’d like
+to see you standing out for anything against your own comfort.”
+
+“You wouldn’t have seen me get into his shoes,” Price retorted,
+fitting a dark slide into the camera. “Now, Sime, if you’re ready.”
+
+Price pressed the bulb uncovering the lens and at the same time Sime
+burned a length of magnesium wire before the document on the door,
+while Cheyne writhed with impotent rage at the discovery that he had
+been duped in still another particular.
+
+“We’ve done uncommonly well,” Parkes remarked when the photograph had
+been taken, “but we’re not by any means out of the wood yet. In fact,
+the real work is only beginning. We don’t even yet know the size of
+the problem we’re up against. We’ve got to find that out and then
+we’ve got to make a plan and put it through, and all the time we’ve
+got to lie low in case that infernal ass has reported us to the
+police.”
+
+“We’ve got to get these photographs taken and then we’ve got to get
+our supper,” retorted Price. “For goodness sake let’s have one thing
+at a time, Blessington. If you’d lend a hand instead of standing there
+preaching, it would be more to the point.”
+
+Here was another alias. Parkes’s real name was Blessington. Cheyne was
+beginning to wonder what Price and Susan were really called, when the
+next remark satisfied his curiosity.
+
+Parkes—or Blessington—took Price’s remark easily.
+
+“Now that’s where you make the mistake, Mr. James Dangle,” he said
+with a twinkle in his eye. “Miss Dangle and I do the real work in this
+joint: don’t we, Miss Dangle? We supply the brains, you and Sime only
+rise to the muscles. Eh, Miss Dangle?”
+
+But Miss Dangle was not in a mood for pleasantries.
+
+“We shall want all the brains that you can supply and more,” she
+answered irritably, and then turning lazily to the others demanded if
+they weren’t ever going to be done messing with the darned camera.
+
+At last Cheyne thought he had got the four fixed in his mind. The man
+on the rug—the man who had drugged him in the Plymouth hotel—was
+Blessington. The man who had introduced himself as Lamson and
+afterwards said his name was Price bore neither of these appellations:
+his name was Dangle. Susan was “Miss Dangle” and almost certainly
+sister to James. Lewisham, the motorman of the _Enid_, was Sime.
+
+Dangle, Sime, and Blessington! Why, there was something sinister in
+the very names, and as Cheyne peeped guardedly in beneath the blind,
+he felt there was something even more sinister in their owners.
+Dangle, with his hard-bitten features and without his veneer of
+polish, looked a crafty scoundrel. There was a nasty gleam in his foxy
+eyes. He looked a man who would sell his best friend for a shilling.
+Perhaps Cheyne’s imagination had by this time run away with him, but
+Sime now struck him as a murderous-looking ruffian, and Blessington’s
+smug features seemed but to cloak an evil and cruel nature. He was
+smiling, but there was nothing mirthful about his smile. Rather was it
+the expression that a wolf might be supposed to wear when he sees a
+sheep helpless before his attack. Cheyne did not know if Susan was
+dangerous, but he had always suspected she could be vindictive and
+bad-tempered. A nice crew, he thought, and he shivered in spite of
+himself as he pictured his fate were some accident to lead to his
+discovery.
+
+And what inventive genius they had shown! They had now told him three
+yarns, all convincing, well-thought-out statements, and all entirely
+false. There was first of all Blessington’s dissertation of his,
+Cheyne’s, literary efforts, told to get him off his guard so that a
+drug might be administered to him and his pockets be searched. Then
+there was the account of the position indicator for ships, detailed
+and plausible, a bait to lure him voluntarily aboard the _Enid_.
+Lastly there was the story of the Hull succession, including the
+interesting episode of the attempted rescue of the uncle St. John
+Price, undoubtedly related with the object of reducing Cheyne’s
+scruples in handing over the letter. These people were certainly past
+masters in the art of decorative lying, and once again he marveled at
+the trouble which had been taken in making each story watertight so as
+to assure its success. It was for no small reward that this had been
+done.
+
+Cheyne was getting stiff with cold on the ladder. Though keenly
+interested in what he saw, he wished his enemies would make some move
+so that he might advance or, if necessary, retreat. But they appeared
+in no special hurry, proceeding with the photographs in the most
+careful and deliberate way.
+
+A desultory conversation was kept up, only part of which he heard, but
+nothing further was said which threw any light on the identity of the
+conspirators or on the objects for which they were assembled. The work
+with the camera progressed, however, and presently three photographs
+had been taken.
+
+“Once more,” he heard Dangle remark, and having pulled out the
+shutter, the whilom skipper of the _Enid_ pressed the bulb and another
+photograph was taken.
+
+“That’s four altogether,” Dangle went on in satisfied tones. “I guess
+we’re well provided for against accidents. What about that bit of
+supper, old lady?”
+
+“Aren’t we waiting for you?” Susan demanded as she slowly pulled
+herself up out of the chair. “Gosh!” she went on, lazily stretching
+herself and yawning, “but it’s good to be done with Devonshire! I was
+fed up, I can tell you! Susan this and Susan that! ‘Susan, we’ll have
+tea now,’ ‘Susan, you might bring a tray and take up the mistress’s
+breakfast,’ ‘Susan, you might light the fire in the study; Mr. Cheyne
+wants to work.’ Yah! I guess I’ve about done my share.”
+
+The men exchanged glances, but only Dangle spoke.
+
+“I guess you have, old girl,” he conceded. “But finish out this job
+and you’ll live like a lady for the rest of your life.”
+
+“It’ll be a poor look out for you if I don’t,” she grumbled, and Sime
+having opened the door, she passed out, followed by the others.
+Cheyne, watching breathlessly, saw a light spring up in a ground floor
+window, fortunately not below him, but at the far end of the house.
+
+His heart beat quickly. Was it possible that his great chance had come
+already and that the gang had delivered themselves into his hands? A
+little coolness, a little daring, a little nerve, and he believed he
+could carry off a _coup_ that would entirely reverse the situation.
+The document on the wall must surely be that which these criminals had
+stolen from him. Could he not regain it while they were downstairs at
+their supper? He decided with fierce delight that he would try. It was
+an adventure after his own heart.
+
+Carefully he grasped the lower sash and pressed gently upwards. To his
+delight it moved. With infinite care he pushed it higher and higher
+until at last he was able to work his way into the room. Evidently he
+had not been heard, as the muffled sounds of conversation continued to
+rise unbrokenly from the supper room. He tiptoed lightly across the
+room and gazed in surprise at the document fixed to the wall.
+
+It was certainly not the copy of a birth or marriage certificate nor
+anything connected with a claim to a barony! It was a sheet of tracing
+linen some fifteen inches high by twelve wide, covered with little
+circles spaced irregularly and without any apparent plan, like the
+keys of a typewriter gone mad. Some of these circles contained numbers
+and others letters, also arranged without apparent plan. The only
+thing he could read about the whole document was a phrase, written in
+a circle from the center like the figures on a clock dial: “England
+expects every man to do his duty.”
+
+Cheyne stared in amazement, but soon realizing that his time might be
+short, he silently removed the drawing pins, folded the tracing and
+thrust it into his pocket. Then turning to the camera, he withdrew the
+dark slide, opened first one and then the other of its shutters,
+closed them again and replaced it in the camera. A few seconds
+sufficed to open and close the shutters of the other slide lying on
+the table. With a hurried glance round to make sure that no other
+paper was lying about which might also have formed part of the
+contents of Price’s envelope, he tiptoed back to the window and
+prepared to make his escape.
+
+But as he laid his hand on the blind he was halted by a sound from
+below. Someone had opened what was evidently the back door of the
+house and had stepped out on the ground below the window. Then Sime’s
+voice came, grumbling and muffled: “Where the blazes do you keep the
+darned stuff? How can I find it in the dark?” There was a moment’s
+pause, then in a changed voice a sudden sharp call of “Here, James!
+Look here quickly! What’s this?”
+
+He had seen the ladder! Cheyne realized that his retreat was cut off!
+
+A sudden tumult arose downstairs. Hasty feet ran towards the garden
+and voices spoke low and hurriedly beneath the window. Cheyne saw that
+his only hope lay in instant action. He silently hurried across the
+room, tore the door open and ran to the head of the stairs. His hope
+was that he might slip down and out of the door while the others were
+still at the back of the house.
+
+But he was just too late. As he reached the stairs he heard steps
+approaching the hall below. His retreat was cut off in this direction
+also.
+
+There remained only one thing to do and he did it almost without
+thought. Opening the next door to that of the sitting room, he stepped
+noiselessly inside, closing the door save for a narrow chink through
+which he could hear and see what was happening.
+
+Two of the men had raced up to the sitting room, and peeping out,
+Cheyne saw that they were Blessington and Sime. In a moment they were
+out again and running down, shouting: “It’s gone, James! The tracing’s
+gone!” Sounds indicative of surprise and consternation arose from
+below, but Cheyne could no longer hear the words. Then through the
+window, which also looked out over the garden, he heard Dangle’s
+voice: “Keep guard of the house, Susan and Blessington. Come with me,
+Sime,” and the sound of two pairs of feet rushing away towards the
+lane.
+
+Instinctively Cheyne realized that his chance had come. It was now or
+never. If he could not escape while two of the conspirators were away,
+he would have no chance when all four were present.
+
+He came out of his hiding-place and peeped through the well down into
+the hall. The electric light had been turned on and the hall was
+brilliantly illuminated. In it stood Blessington, glancing alternately
+up the stairs and out through a door to the back. In his hand he held
+an automatic pistol, and from the look of fury and desperation on his
+face Cheyne had no doubt that he would not hesitate to use it if he
+saw him.
+
+“They must have only just gone!” Blessington cried through the door
+with a lurid oath, and Susan’s voice answered with another equally
+vivid string of blasphemy.
+
+Cheyne stood tense, scarcely daring to breathe and on the _qui vive_
+to take advantage of any chance that might offer. But Blessington
+wasn’t going to give chances. He stood there with his pistol raised,
+and unarmed as Cheyne was, he recognized the hopelessness of trying to
+rush him.
+
+He thought there might be a chance of escape from some of the other
+rooms, and silently crept about in the hope of finding a window or
+skylight from which he might perhaps obtain access to a downspout. But
+so far as he could ascertain in the dark there was nothing of the
+kind, and after a few minutes had passed he retraced his steps and set
+himself to watch Blessington.
+
+He wondered whether he could make some noise with the ladder which
+would attract the two watchers to the garden and thus enable him to
+make a bolt for the front door, but while he was considering this he
+heard other voices which revealed the fact that Dangle and Sime had
+returned. Then Dangle’s voice sounded in the hall: “’Fraid they’ve got
+away, but we’d better search the house again to make sure. You stick
+at the stairs, Susan, while we do the lower rooms.”
+
+Steps sounded below as the men moved from room to room. Cheyne’s heart
+was pounding as it had done on different occasions before his ship had
+gone into action during the war, but he was calm and collected and
+determined to take the least chance that offered.
+
+Presently he heard the men joining Susan in the hall. Now was the only
+chance he was likely to get and at all costs he must make the most of
+it. He hurried back to the sitting room window, and setting his teeth,
+lifted the blind and silently crawled out.
+
+So far he had not been seen, and as rapidly as he dared he climbed
+down the ladder. Another five seconds and he would have got clear
+away, but at that moment the alarm was given. One of the men, looking
+out of a window, saw him in the now fairly clear light of the moon.
+Hurried steps sounded and Blessington appeared at the open door.
+
+Fearful of his pistol, Cheyne leaped for his life. He landed on his
+feet, staggered, recovered himself and darted like a hare across the
+flower beds. With any ordinary luck he should have got clear away, but
+Blessington had picked up a broom as he ran, and this he threw with
+fatal aim. It caught Cheyne between the legs and he fell headlong.
+Other steps came hurrying up. By the light streaming from the back
+door he saw an arm raised. It fell and something crashed with a
+sickening thud on his head.
+
+He saw a vivid shower of sparks, there was a roaring in his ears,
+great dark waves seemed to rise up and encompass him, and he
+remembered no more.
+
+
+
+Chapter VII
+
+Miss Joan Merrill
+
+After what seemed ages of forgetfulness a confused sense of pain began
+to make itself felt in Maxwell Cheyne’s being, growing in force and
+definition as he gradually struggled back to consciousness. At first
+his whole body ached sickeningly, but as time passed the major
+suffering concentrated itself in his head. It throbbed as if it would
+burst, and he felt a terrible oppression, as if the weight of the
+universe rested upon it. So on the border line of consciousness he
+hovered for still further ages of time.
+
+Presently by gradual stages the memory of his recent adventure
+returned to him, and he began vaguely to realize that the murderous
+attempt which had been made on him had failed and that he still lived.
+
+Encouraged by this reassuring thought, he hesitatingly essayed the
+feat of opening his eyes. For a time he gazed, confused by the dim
+shapes about him, but at last he came more fully to himself and was
+able to register what he saw.
+
+It was almost dark, indeed most of the arc over which his eyes could
+travel was perfectly so. But here and there he noticed parallelograms
+of a less inky blackness, and after some time the significance of
+these penetrated his brain and he knew where he was.
+
+He was lying on his back on the ground in the half-built house from
+which he had taken the ladder, and the parallelograms were the
+openings in the walls into which doors and windows would afterwards be
+fitted. Against the faint light without, which he took to be that of
+the moonlit sky, he could see dimly the open joists of the floor above
+him, a piece of the herringbone strutting of which cut across the
+space for one of the upstairs windows.
+
+Feeling slightly better he tried his pocket, to find, as he expected,
+that the tracing was gone. Presently he attempted some more extensive
+movement. But at once an intolerable pang shot through him, and, sick
+and faint, he lay still. With a dawning horror he wondered whether his
+back might not be broken, or whether the blow on his head might not
+have produced paralysis. He groaned aloud and sank back once more into
+unconsciousness.
+
+After a time he became sentient again, sick and giddy, but more fully
+conscious. While he could not think collectedly, the idea became
+gradually fixed in his mind that he must somehow get away from his
+present position, partly lest his enemies might return to complete
+their work, and partly lest, if he stayed, he might die before the
+workmen came in the morning. Therefore, setting his teeth, he made a
+supreme effort and, in spite of the terrible pain in his head,
+succeeded in turning over on to his hands and knees.
+
+In this new position he remained motionless for some time, but
+presently he began to crawl slowly and painfully out towards the road.
+At intervals he had to stop to recover himself, but at length after
+superhuman efforts he succeeded in reaching the paling separating the
+lot from Hopefield Avenue. There he sank down exhausted and for some
+time lay motionless in a state of coma.
+
+Suddenly he became conscious of the sound of light but rapid footsteps
+approaching on the footpath at the other side of the paling, and once
+more summoning all his resolution he nerved himself to listen. The
+steps drew nearer until he judged their owner was just passing and
+then he cried as loudly as he could: “Help!”
+
+The footsteps stopped and Cheyne gasped out: “Help! I’ve hurt my head:
+an accident.”
+
+There was a moment’s silence and then a girl’s voice sounded.
+
+“Where are you?”
+
+“Here,” Cheyne answered, “at the back of the fence.” He felt dimly
+that he ought to give some explanation of his predicament, and went on
+in weak tones: “I was looking through the house and fell. Can you help
+me?”
+
+“Of course,” the girl answered. “I’ll go to the police station in
+Cleeve Road—it’s only five minutes—and they will look after you in no
+time.”
+
+This was not what Cheyne wanted. He had not yet decided whether he
+would call in the police and he was too much upset at the moment to
+consider the point. In the meantime, therefore, it would be better if
+nothing was said.
+
+“Please not,” he begged. “Just send a taxi to take me to a hospital.”
+
+The girl hesitated, then replied: “All right. Let me see first if I
+can make you a bit more comfortable.”
+
+The effort of speaking and thinking had so overcome Cheyne that he
+sank back once more into a state of coma, and it was only half
+consciously that he felt his head being lifted and some soft thing
+like a folded coat being placed beneath. Then the girl’s pleasant
+voice said: “Now just stay quiet and I shall have a taxi here in a
+moment.” A further period of waiting ensued and he felt himself being
+lifted and carried a few steps. A jolting then began which so hurt his
+head that he fainted again, and for still further interminable ages he
+remembered no more.
+
+When he finally regained his faculties he found himself in bed,
+physically more comfortable than he could have believed possible, but
+utterly exhausted. He was content to lie motionless, not troubling as
+to where he was or how he came there. Presently he fell asleep and
+when he woke he plucked up energy enough to open his eyes.
+
+It was light and he saw that he was in hospital. Several other beds
+were in the ward and a nurse was doing something at the end of the
+room. Presently she came over, saw that he was awake, and smiled at
+him.
+
+“Better?” she said cheerily.
+
+“I think so,” he answered weakly. “Where am I, nurse?”
+
+“In the Albert Edward Hospital. You’ve had a nasty knock on your head,
+but you’re going to be all right. Now you’re to keep quiet and not
+talk.”
+
+Cheyne didn’t want to talk and he lay motionless, luxuriating in the
+complete cessation of effort. After a time a doctor came and looked at
+him, but it was too much trouble to be interested about the doctor,
+and in any case he soon disappeared. Sometimes when he opened his eyes
+the nurse was there and sometimes she wasn’t, and other people seemed
+to drift about for no very special reason. Then it was dark in the
+ward, evidently night again. The next day the same thing happened, and
+so for many days.
+
+He had been troubled with the vague thoughts of his mother and sister,
+and on one occasion when he was feeling a little less tired than usual
+he had called the nurse and asked her to write to his sister, saying
+that he had met with a slight accident and was staying on in town for
+a few days. Miss Cheyne telegraphed to know if she could help, but the
+nurse, without troubling her patient, had replied: “Not at present.”
+
+At last there came a time when Cheyne began to feel more his own man
+and able, without bringing on an intolerable headache, to think
+collectedly about his situation. And at once two points arose in his
+mind upon which he felt an immediate decision must be made.
+
+The first was: What answer should he return to the inevitable
+questions he would be asked as to how he met with his injury? Should
+he lodge an information against Messrs. Dangle, Sime and Co., accuse
+them of attempted murder and put the machinery of the law in motion
+against them? Or should he stick to his tale that an accident had
+happened, and keep the affair of Hopefield Avenue to himself?
+
+After anxious consideration he decided on the latter alternative. If
+he were to tell the police now he would find it hard to explain why he
+had not done so earlier. Moreover, with returning strength came back
+the desire which he had previously experienced, to meet these men on
+their own ground and himself defeat them. He remembered how
+exceedingly nearly he had done so on this occasion. Had it not been
+for the accident of something being required from the garden or
+outhouse he would have got clear away, and he hoped for better luck
+next time.
+
+A third consideration also weighed with him. He was not sure how far
+he himself had broken the law. Housebreaking and burglary were serious
+crimes, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that others might not
+consider his excuse for these actions as valid as he did himself. In
+fact he was not sure how he stood legally. Under the circumstances
+would his proper course not have been to lodge an information against
+Dangle and Sime immediately on getting ashore from the _Enid_, and let
+the police with a search warrant recover Price’s letter? But he saw at
+once that that would have been useless. The men would have denied the
+theft, and he could not have proved it. His letter to his bank manager
+would have been evidence that he had handed it over to them of his own
+free will. No, to go to the police would not have got him anywhere. In
+his own eyes he had been right to act as he had, and his only course
+now was to pursue the same policy and keep the police out of it.
+
+When, therefore, a couple of days later the doctor, who had been
+puzzled by the affair, questioned him on it, he made up a tale. He
+replied that he had for some time been looking for a house in the
+suburbs, that the outline of that in question had appealed to him, and
+that he had climbed in to see the internal accommodation. In the
+semidarkness he had fallen, striking his head on a heap of bricks. He
+had been unconscious for some time, but had then been able to crawl to
+the street, where the lady had been kind enough to have him taken to
+the hospital.
+
+This brought him back to the second point which had been occupying his
+mind since he had regained the power of consecutive thought: the lady.
+What exactly had she done for him? How had she got him to the hospital
+and secured his admission? Had she taken a taxi, and if so, had she
+herself paid for it? Cheyne felt that he must see her to learn these
+particulars and to thank her for her kindness and help.
+
+He broached the subject to the nurse, who laughed and said she had
+been expecting the question. Miss Merrill had brought him herself to
+the hospital and had since called up a couple of times to inquire for
+him. The nurse presumed the young lady had herself paid for the taxi,
+as no question about the matter had been raised.
+
+This information seemed to Cheyne to involve communication with Miss
+Merrill at the earliest possible moment. The nurse would not let him
+write himself, but at his dictation she sent a line expressing his
+gratitude for the lady’s action and begging leave to call on his
+leaving the hospital.
+
+In answer to this there was a short note signed “Joan Merrill,” which
+stated that the writer was pleased to hear that Mr. Cheyne was
+recovering and that she would see him if he called. The note was
+headed 17 Horne Terrace, Burton Street, Chelsea. Cheyne admired the
+hand and passed a good deal of his superabundant time speculating as
+to the personality of the writer and wondering what a Chelsea lady
+could have been doing in the Hendon suburbs after midnight on the date
+of his adventure. When, therefore, a few days later he was discharged
+from the hospital, he betook himself to Chelsea with more than a
+little eagerness.
+
+Horne Terrace proved to be a block of workers’ flats, and inquiries at
+No. 17 produced the information that Miss Merrill occupied Flat No.
+12—the top floor on the left-hand side. Speculating still further as
+to the personality of a lady who would choose such a dwelling, Cheyne
+essayed researches into the upper regions. A climb which left him weak
+and panting after his sojourn in bed brought him to the tenth floor,
+on which one of the doors bore the number he sought. To recover
+himself before knocking he felt constrained to sit down for a few
+moments on the stairs, and as he was thus resting the door of No. 12
+opened and a girl came out.
+
+She was of middle height, slender and willowy, though the lines of her
+figure were somewhat concealed by the painter’s blue overall which she
+wore. She was not beautiful in the classic sense, yet but few would
+have failed to find pleasure in the sight of her pretty, pleasant,
+kindly face, with its straightforward expression, and the direct gaze
+of her hazel eyes. Her face was rather thin and her chin rather sharp
+for perfect symmetry, but her nose tilted adorably and the arch of her
+eyebrows was delicacy itself. Her complexion was pale, but with the
+pallor of perfect health. But her great glory was her hair. It covered
+her head with a crown of burnished gold, and though in Cheyne’s
+opinion it lost much of its beauty from being shingled, it gave her an
+aureole like that of a medieval saint in a stained glass window. Like
+a saint, indeed, she seemed to Cheyne; a very human and approachable
+saint, it is true, but a saint for all that. Seated on the top step of
+the stairs he was transfixed by the unexpected vision, and remained
+staring over his shoulder at her while he endeavored to collect his
+scattered wits.
+
+The sight of a strange young man seated on the steps outside her door
+seemed equally astonishing to the vision, and she promptly stopped and
+stood staring at Cheyne. So they remained for an appreciable time,
+until Cheyne, flushed and abashed, stumbled to his feet and plunged
+into apologies.
+
+As a result of his somewhat incoherent explanation a light dawned on
+her face and she smiled.
+
+“Oh, you’re Mr. Cheyne,” she exclaimed. She looked at him very
+searchingly, then invited: “But of course! Won’t you come in?”
+
+He followed her into No. 12. It proved to be a fair-sized room fitted
+up partly as a sitting room and partly as a studio. A dormer window
+close to the fireplace gave on an expanse of roofs and chimneys with,
+in a gap between two houses, a glimpse of the lead-colored waters of
+the river. In the partially covered ceiling was a large skylight which
+lit up a model’s throne, and an easel bearing a half-finished study of
+a woman’s head. Other canvases, mostly figures in various stages of
+completion, were ranged round the walls, and the usual artist’s
+paraphernalia of brushes and palettes and color tubes lay about. Drawn
+up to the fire were a couple of easy-chairs, books and ashtrays lay on
+an occasional table, while on another table was a tea equipage. A door
+beside the fireplace led to what was presumably the lady’s bedroom.
+
+“Can you find a seat?” she went on, indicating the larger of the two
+armchairs. “You have come at a propitious moment. I was just about to
+make tea.”
+
+“That sounds delightful,” Cheyne declared. “I came at the first moment
+that I thought I decently could. I was discharged from the hospital
+this morning and I thought I couldn’t let a day pass without coming to
+try at least to express my thanks for what you did for me.”
+
+Miss Merrill had filled an aluminum kettle from a tap at a small sink
+and now placed it on a gas stove.
+
+“We’ll suppose the thanks expressed, all due and right and proper,”
+she answered. “But I’ll tell you what you can do. Light the stove! It
+makes such a plop I hate to go near it.”
+
+Cheyne, having duly produced the expected plop, returned to his
+armchair and took up again the burden of his tale.
+
+“But that’s all very well, Miss Merrill; awfully good of you and all
+that,” he protested, “but it doesn’t really meet the case at all. If
+you hadn’t come along and played the good Samaritan I should have
+died. I was—”
+
+“If you don’t stop talking about it I shall begin to wish you had,”
+she smiled. “How did the accident happen? I should be interested to
+hear that, because I’ve thought about it and haven’t been able to
+imagine any way it could have come about.”
+
+“I want to tell you.” Cheyne looked into her clear eyes and suddenly
+said more than he had intended. “In fact, I should like to tell you
+the whole thing from the beginning. It’s rather a queer tale. You
+mayn’t believe it, but I think it would interest you. But first—please
+don’t be angry, but you must let me ask the question—did you pay for
+the taxi or whatever means you took to get me to the hospital?”
+
+She laughed.
+
+“Well, you are persistent. However, I suppose I may allow you to pay
+for that. It was five and six, if you must know, and a shilling to the
+man because he helped to carry you and took no end of trouble.” She
+blushed slightly as if recognizing the unconscious admission. “A whole
+six and six you owe me.”
+
+“Is that all, Miss Merrill? Do tell me if there was anything else.”
+
+“There was nothing else, Mr. Cheyne. That squares everything between
+us.”
+
+“By Jove! That’s the last thing it does! But if I mustn’t speak of
+that, I mustn’t. But please tell me this also. I understood from the
+nurse that you came with me to hospital. I am horrified every time I
+think of your having so much trouble, and I should like to understand
+how it all happened.”
+
+“There’s not much to tell,” Miss Merrill answered. “It was all very
+simple and straightforward. There happened to be a garage in the main
+street, quite close, and I went there and got a taxi. It was very
+dark, and when the driver and I looked over the fence we could not see
+you, but the driver fortunately had a flash lamp for examining his
+engine, and with its help we saw that you had fainted. We found you
+very awkward to get out.” She smiled and her face lighted up
+charmingly. “We had to drag you round to the side of the building
+where there was a wire paling instead of the close sheeted fence in
+front. I held up the wires and the cabby dragged you through. Then
+when we got you into the cab I had to go along too, because the cabby
+said he wouldn’t take what might easily be a dead body—a corp, he
+called it—without someone to account for its presence. He talked of
+you as if you were a sack of coal.”
+
+Cheyne was really upset by the recital.
+
+“Good Lord!” he cried. “I can’t say how distressed I am to know what I
+let you in for. I can’t ever forget it. All right, I won’t,” he added
+as she held up her hand. “Go on, please. I want to hear it all.”
+
+Miss Merrill’s hazel eyes twinkled as she continued:
+
+“By the time we got to the hospital I was sure that nothing would save
+me from being hanged for murder. But there was no trouble. I simply
+told my story, left my name and address, and that was all. Now tell me
+what really happened to you; or rather wait until we’ve had tea.”
+
+Cheyne sat back in his chair admiring the easy grace with which she
+moved about as she prepared the meal. She was really an awfully nice
+looking girl, he thought; not perhaps exactly pretty, but jolly
+looking, the kind of girl it is a pleasure just to sit down and watch.
+And as they chatted over tea he discovered that she had a mind of her
+own. Indeed, she showed a nimble wit and a shrewd if rather quaint
+outlook on men and things.
+
+“You mentioned Dartmouth just now,” she remarked presently. “Do you
+know it well?”
+
+“Why, I live there.”
+
+“Do you really? Do you know people there called Beresford?”
+
+“Archie and Flo? Rather. They live on our road, but about half a mile
+nearer the town. Do you know them?”
+
+“Flo only. I’ve been going to stay with them two or three times,
+though for one reason or another it has always fallen through. I was
+at school with Flo—Flo Salter, she was then.”
+
+“By Jove! Archie is rather a pal of mine. Comes out yachting
+sometimes. A good sort.”
+
+“I’ve never met him, but I used to chum with Flo. Congratulations, Mr.
+Cheyne.”
+
+Cheyne stared at her and she smiled gaily across.
+
+“You haven’t said that the world is very small after all,” she
+explained.
+
+Cheyne laughed.
+
+“I didn’t think of it or I should,” he admitted. “But I hope you will
+come down to the Beresfords. I’d love to take you out in my yacht—that
+is, if you like yachting.”
+
+“That’s a promise,” the girl declared. “If I come I shall hold you to
+it.”
+
+When tea was removed and cigarettes were alight she returned to the
+subject of his adventure.
+
+“Yes,” Cheyne answered, “I should like to tell you the whole story if
+it really wouldn’t bore you. But,” he hesitated for a second, “you
+won’t mind my saying that it is simply desperately private. No hint of
+it must get out.”
+
+Her face clouded.
+
+“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I don’t want to hear it if it’s a secret. It
+doesn’t concern me anyway.”
+
+“Oh, but it does—now,” Cheyne protested. “If I don’t tell you now you
+will think that I am a criminal with something to hide, and I think I
+couldn’t bear that.”
+
+“No,” she contradicted, “you think that you are in my debt and bound
+to tell me.”
+
+He laughed.
+
+“Not at all,” he retorted, “since contradiction is the order of the
+day. If that was it I could easily have put you off with the yarn I
+told the doctor. I want to tell you because I think you’d be
+interested, and because it really would be such a relief to discuss
+the thing with some rational being.”
+
+She looked at him keenly as she demanded: “Honor bright?”
+
+“Honor bright,” he repeated, meeting her eyes.
+
+“Then you may,” she decided. “You may also smoke a pipe if you like.”
+
+“The story opens about six weeks ago with a visit to Plymouth,” he
+began, and he told her of his adventure in the Edgecombe Hotel, of the
+message about the burglary, of his ride home and what he found there,
+and of the despondent detective and his failure to discover the
+criminals. Then he described what took place on the launch _Enid_, his
+search of the coast towns and discovery of the trail of the men, his
+following them to London and to the Hopefield Avenue house, his
+adventure therein, the blow on his head, his coming to himself to find
+the tracing gone, his crawl to the fence and his relief at the sound
+of her footsteps approaching.
+
+She listened with an ever-increasing eagerness, which rose to positive
+excitement as he reached the climax of the story.
+
+“My word!” she cried with shining eyes when he had finished. “To think
+of such things happening here in sober old London in the twentieth
+century! Why, it’s like the _Arabian Nights_! Who would believe such a
+story if they read it in a book? _What_ fun! And you have no idea what
+the tracing was?”
+
+“No more than you have, Miss Merrill.”
+
+“It was a cipher,” she declared breathlessly. “A cipher telling where
+there was buried treasure! Isn’t that all that is wanted to make it
+complete?”
+
+“Now you’re laughing at me,” he complained. “Don’t you really believe
+my story?”
+
+“Believe it?” she retorted. “Of course I believe it. How can you
+suggest such a thing? I think it’s perfectly splendid! I can’t say how
+splendid I think it. It _was_ brave of you to go into that house in
+the way you did. I can’t think how you had the nerve. But now what are
+you going to do? What is the next step?”
+
+“I don’t know. I’ve thought and thought while I was in that blessed
+hospital and I don’t see the next move. What would you advise?”
+
+“I? Oh, Mr. Cheyne, I couldn’t advise you. I’m thrilled more than I
+can say, but I don’t know enough for that.”
+
+“Would you give up and go to the police?”
+
+“Never.” Her eyes flashed. “I’d go on and fight the gang. You’ll win
+yet, Mr. Cheyne. Something tells me.”
+
+A wild idea shot into Cheyne’s mind and he sat for a moment
+motionless. Then swayed by a sudden impulse, he turned to the girl and
+said excitedly:
+
+“Miss Merrill, let’s join forces. You help me.” He paused, then went
+on quickly: “Not in the actual thing, I mean, of course. I couldn’t
+allow you to get mixed up in what might turn out to be dangerous. But
+let me come and discuss the thing with you. It would be such a help.”
+
+“No!” she said, her eyes shining. “I’ll join in if you like—I’d love
+it! But only if I share the fun. I’m either in altogether or out
+altogether.”
+
+He stood up and faced her.
+
+“Do you mean it?” he asked seriously.
+
+“Of course I mean it,” she answered as she got up also.
+
+“Then shake hands on it!”
+
+Solemnly they shook hands, and so the firm of Cheyne and Merrill came
+into being.
+
+
+
+Chapter VIII
+
+A Council of War
+
+Cheyne returned to his hotel that afternoon in a jubilant frame of
+mind. He had been depressed from his illness and his failure at the
+house in Hopefield Avenue and had come to believe he was wasting his
+time on a wild-goose chase. But now all his former enthusiasm had
+returned. Once again he was out to pit his wits against this
+mysterious gang of scoundrels, and he was all eagerness to be once
+more in the thick of the fray.
+
+Miss Merrill had told him something about herself before he had left.
+It appeared that she was the daughter of a doctor in Gloucester who
+had died some years previously. Her mother had died while she was a
+small child, and she was now alone in the world save for a sister who
+was married and living in Edinburgh. Her father had left her enough to
+live on fairly comfortably, but by cutting down her expenditure on
+board and lodging to the minimum she had been able to find the
+wherewithal necessary to enable her to take up seriously her hobby of
+painting. She was getting on well with that. She had not yet sold any
+pictures, but her art masters and the dealers to whom she had shown
+her work were encouraging. She also made a study of architectural
+details—moldings, string courses, capitals, etc.—which, having
+photographed them with her half-plate camera and flashlight apparatus,
+she worked into decorative panels and head and tail pieces for
+magazine illustration and poster work. With these also she was having
+fair success.
+
+Cheyne was enthused by the idea of this girl starting out thus boldly
+to carve, singlehanded, her career in the world, and he spent as much
+time that evening thinking of her pluck and of her chances of success
+as of the mysterious affair in which now they were both engaged.
+
+His first visit next day was to a man called Hake, whom he had met
+during the war and who was now a clerk in one of the departments of
+the Admiralty. From him he received definite confirmation that the
+whole of the Hull barony story was a fabrication of James Dangle’s
+nimble brain. No such diplomat as St. John Price had ever existed,
+though it was true that Arnold Price had at the time in question been
+third officer of the _Maurania_. Hake added a further interesting
+fact, though whether it was connected with Cheyne’s affair there was
+nothing to indicate. Price, the real Arnold Price through whom the
+whole mystery had arisen, had recently disappeared. He had left his
+ship at Bombay on a few days’ leave and had not returned. At least he
+had not returned up to the latest date of which Hake had heard. Cheyne
+begged his friend to let him know immediately if anything was learned
+as to Price’s fate, which the other promised to do.
+
+In the afternoon Cheyne once more climbed the ten flights of stairs in
+No. 17 Horne Terrace, but this time he took the ascent slowly enough
+to avoid having to sit down to recover at the top. Miss Merrill opened
+to his knock. She was painting and a girl sat on the throne, the
+original of the picture he had seen the day before. He was told that
+he might sit down and smoke so long as he kept perfectly quiet and did
+not interrupt, and for half an hour he lay in the big armchair
+watching the face on the canvas grow more and more like that of the
+model. Then a little clock struck four silvery chimes, Miss Merrill
+threw down her brushes and palette and said “Time!” and the model
+relaxed her position. Both girls disappeared into the bedroom and
+emerged presently, the model in outdoor garb and Miss Merrill without
+her overall. The model let herself out with a “Good-afternoon, Miss
+Merrill,” while the lady of the house took up the aluminum kettle and
+began to fill it.
+
+“Gas stove,” she said tersely.
+
+Cheyne produced the expected plop, then stood with his back to the
+fire, watching his hostess’s preparations for tea. The removal of the
+overall had revealed a light green knitted jumper of what he believed
+was artificial silk, with a skirt of a darker shade of the same color.
+A simple dress, he thought, but tremendously effective. How splendidly
+it set off the red gold of her hair, and how charmingly it revealed
+the graceful lines of her slender figure! With her comely, pleasant
+face and her clear, direct eyes she looked one who would make a good
+pal.
+
+“Well now, and what’s the program?” she said briskly when tea had been
+disposed of.
+
+Cheyne began to fill his pipe.
+
+“I scarcely know,” he said slowly. “I’m afraid I’ve not any cut and
+dried scheme to put up except that I already mentioned: to get into
+that house somehow and have a look around.”
+
+She moved nervously.
+
+“I don’t like it,” she declared. “There are many objections to it.”
+
+“I know there are, but what can you suggest?”
+
+“First of all there’s the actual danger,” she went on, continuing her
+own train of thought and ignoring his question. “These people have
+tried to murder you once already, and if they find you in their house
+again they’ll not bungle it a second time.”
+
+“I’ll take my chance of that.”
+
+“But have you thought that they have an easier way out of it than
+that? All they have to do is to hand you over to the nearest policeman
+on a charge of burglary. You would get two or three years or maybe
+more.”
+
+“They wouldn’t dare. Remember what I could tell about them.”
+
+“Who would believe you? They, the picture of injured innocence, would
+deny the whole thing. You would say they attempted to murder you. They
+would ridicule the idea. And—there you are.”
+
+“But I could prove it. There was my injured head, and you found me at
+that house.”
+
+“And what did you yourself tell the doctor had happened to you? No,
+you wouldn’t have the ghost of a case.”
+
+“But Susan Dangle was at our house for several weeks. She could be
+identified.”
+
+“How would that help? She would of course admit being there, but would
+deny everything else. And you couldn’t prove anything. Why, the gang
+would point out that it was Susan’s presence at your house that had
+suggested the whole story to you.”
+
+Cheyne shook his head.
+
+“I’m not so sure of that,” he declared. “There would be a good deal of
+corroborative evidence on my side. And then there was Blessington at
+the hotel at Plymouth. He could be identified by the staff.”
+
+“That’s true,” she admitted. “But even that wouldn’t help you much. He
+would deny having drugged you and you couldn’t prove he had. No, the
+more I think of it the better their position seems to be.”
+
+“Well, then, what’s the alternative?”
+
+She shook her head and for a moment silence reigned. Then she went on:
+
+“I’ve been thinking about the gang since you told me the story—it’s
+another point, of course—but it occurs to me they must have had a fine
+old shock on the morning after your visit.”
+
+Cheyne looked up sharply.
+
+“What do you mean?” he asked.
+
+“Why, they must have been worried to death to know what had happened
+to you. Your dead body wasn’t found—they’d soon have heard of it if it
+had been. And no information was given to the police about the
+affair—they’d soon have heard of that too. And you haven’t struck at
+them. Probably they’ve made inquiries at Dartmouth and found you
+haven’t gone home. They’ll absolutely be scared into fits to know
+whether you’re alive or dead, or what blow may not be being built up
+against them. Though they richly deserve it, I don’t envy them their
+position.”
+
+This was a new idea to Cheyne.
+
+“I hadn’t thought of that,” he returned, then he laughed. “Yes, it
+didn’t work out quite as they wanted, did it? But I expect they know
+all about me. Don’t you think that under the circumstances they would
+have gone round making discreet inquiries at the hospitals?”
+
+“Well, that is at least something to be done. First job: find out if
+possible if anyone asked about you at the Albert Edward. If that
+fails, same question elsewhere.”
+
+“Right: that’s an idea. But it is not enough.” Cheyne shook his head
+to give emphasis to his remark. “We must do something more. And the
+only thing I can think of is to get into that house again and see what
+I can find. I’ll risk the police.”
+
+Miss Merrill was evidently thrilled, but not converted.
+
+“I shouldn’t be in too great a hurry,” she counseled. “How would it do
+if we went out there first and had a look around?”
+
+“I don’t see that we should gain much by looking at the outside of the
+house.”
+
+“You never know. Let’s go as soon as it gets dark tonight. If we see
+nothing no harm is done.”
+
+Cheyne was not averse to the idea of an excursion in the company of
+his new friend, and he readily agreed, provided Miss Merrill gave her
+word not to run into any danger.
+
+“I think you should put on a hat with a low brim and wear something
+with a high collar,” he suggested. “I’ll do the same, and in the dark
+we’re not likely to be noticed even if any of the gang are about.”
+
+Miss Merrill pointed out that as she was unknown to the gang, it did
+not matter if her features were seen, but Cheyne was insistent.
+
+“You don’t know,” he said. “We might both be seen, and then it would
+be as bad for you as for me. There’ll be unavoidable risks enough in
+this job without taking on any we needn’t.”
+
+They discussed their plans in detail, then Cheyne remarked: “Now
+that’s settled, what’s wrong with your coming and having a bit of
+dinner with me as a prelude to adventure?”
+
+“That sounds bookish. Are you keen on books? I’ll go and have dinner
+if I may pay my share, not otherwise.”
+
+Cheyne protested, but she was adamant. It appeared further she was a
+great reader, and they discussed books until it was time to go out.
+Then after dinner at an Italian restaurant in Soho they took the tube
+to Hendon and began to walk towards Hopefield Avenue.
+
+The night was chilly for mid-May, but calm and dry. It would soon be
+quite dark out of the radius of the street lamps, as the quarter moon
+had not yet risen and clouds obscured the light of the stars. In the
+main street there was plenty of traffic, but Hopefield Avenue was
+deserted and their footsteps rang out loudly on the pavements.
+
+“Let’s walk past it,” Miss Merrill suggested, “and perhaps we can hide
+and watch what goes on.”
+
+They did so. Laurel Lodge looked as before except that the lower front
+windows were lighted up. Building operations, however, had been much
+advanced in the six weeks since Cheyne’s last visit. The almost
+completed walls of a house stood on the next lot, and the house in
+which the supposed dead body of Cheyne had been abandoned was
+practically complete.
+
+“Half-finished houses are the stunt in this game,” Cheyne observed.
+“Suppose we go back to that next door to our friends and see from
+there if anything happens.”
+
+Five minutes later they had passed along the lane at the back of the
+houses and taken up their positions in what was evidently to be the
+hall of the new house. A small window looked out from its side, not
+forty feet from the hall door of Laurel Lodge. Cheyne made a seat of a
+plank laid across two little heaps of bricks and they sat down and
+waited.
+
+They were so ignorant as to the steps usually taken by a detective in
+such a situation that their idea of watching the house was simply
+adopted in the Micawberish hope that somehow something might turn up
+to help them. What that something might be they had no idea. But with
+the extraordinary luck which so often seems reserved for those who
+blindly plunge, they had not waited ten minutes before they received
+some really important information.
+
+The unconscious agent was a postman. They saw him first pass near a
+lamp farther down the street, and then watched him gradually approach,
+calling in one house after another. Presently he reached the gate of
+Laurel Lodge, and opening it, passed inside.
+
+From where they sat, the watchers, being in line with the front of the
+house, were not actually in sight of the hall door. But there was a
+heap of building material in front of their hiding place and Cheyne,
+slipping hurriedly out, crouched behind the pile in such a position
+that he could see what might take place.
+
+In due course the postman reached the door, but instead of delivering
+his letters and retreating, he knocked and stood waiting. The door was
+opened by a woman, and her silhouette against the lighted interior
+showed she was not Susan Dangle. The woman was short, stout and
+elderly.
+
+“Evening, ma’am,” Cheyne heard the man say. “A parcel for you.”
+
+The woman thanked him and closed the door, while the postman crossed
+to a house on the opposite side of the street. As soon as his back was
+turned Cheyne left his hiding-place, and was strolling along the road
+when the postman again stepped on to the footpath.
+
+“Good-evening, postman,” said Cheyne. “I’m looking for people called
+Dangle somewhere about here. Could you tell me where they live?”
+
+The postman stopped and answered civilly:
+
+“They’ve left here, sir, or at least there were people of that name
+here till a few weeks ago. They lived over there.” He pointed to
+Laurel Lodge.
+
+Cheyne made a gesture of annoyance.
+
+“Moved; have they? Then I’ve missed them. I suppose you couldn’t tell
+me where they’ve gone?”
+
+The postman shook his head.
+
+“Sorry, sir, but I couldn’t. If you was to go to the post office in
+Hendon they might know. But I couldn’t say nothing about it.”
+
+Nor could the postman remember the exact date of the Dangles’
+departure. It was five or six weeks since or maybe more, but he
+couldn’t say for sure.
+
+Cheyne returned to Miss Merrill with his news. A sudden flitting on
+the Dangles’ part seemed indicated, born doubtless of panic at the
+disappearance of the supposed corpse, and if this was the cause of
+their move, no applications at the post office or elsewhere would bear
+fruit.
+
+“We should have foreseen this,” Cheyne declared gloomily. “If you
+think of it, to make themselves scarce was about the only thing they
+could do. If I was alive and conscious they couldn’t tell how soon
+they might have a visit from the police.”
+
+“Well, we’ve got to find them,” his companion answered. “I’ll begin by
+making inquiries at the house. No,” as Cheyne demurred, “it’s my turn.
+You stay here and listen.”
+
+She slipped out on to the road, and passing through the gate of Laurel
+Lodge, rang the bell. The same elderly woman came to the door and Miss
+Merrill asked if Miss Dangle was at home.
+
+The woman was communicative if not illuminating. No one called Dangle
+lived in the house, though she understood her predecessors had borne
+that name. She and her son had moved in only three weeks before, and
+they had only taken the house a fortnight before that. She did not
+know anything of the Dangles. Oh, no, she had not taken the house
+furnished. She had brought her own furniture with her. Indeed yes,
+moving was a horrible business and so expensive.
+
+“That’s something about the furniture,” Miss Merrill said, when
+breathless and triumphant she had rejoined Cheyne. “If they took their
+furniture we have only to find out who moved it for them. Then we can
+find where it was taken.”
+
+“That’s the ticket,” Cheyne declared admiringly. “But how on earth are
+we going to find the removers? Have you any ideas?”
+
+Miss Merrill looked at him quizzically.
+
+“Just full of ’em,” she smiled, “and to prove it I’ll make you a bet.
+I’ll bet you the price of our next dinner that I have the information
+inside half an hour. What time is it? Half-past nine. Very well:
+before ten o’clock. But the information may cost you anything up to a
+pound. Are you on?”
+
+“Of course I’m on,” Cheyne returned heartily, though in reality he was
+not too pleased by the trend of affairs. “Do you want the pound now?”
+
+“No, I have it. But whatever the information costs me you may pay. Now
+_au revoir_ until ten o’clock.”
+
+She glided away before Cheyne could reply, and for some minutes he sat
+alone in the half-built porch wondering what she was doing and wishing
+he could smoke. It was cold sitting still in the current of chilly air
+which poured through the gaping brickwork. He felt tired and
+despondent, and realized against his will that he had been severely
+shaken by his experiences and was by no means as yet completely
+recovered. If it was not for this splendid girl he would have been
+strongly tempted to throw up the sponge, and he thought with longing
+of the deep armchairs in the smoking room at the hotel, or better
+still, in Miss Merrill’s studio.
+
+Presently he saw her. She was crossing the street in front of Laurel
+Lodge. She was directly in the light of a lamp and he could not but
+admire her graceful carriage and the dainty way in which she tripped
+along.
+
+She pushed open the gate of a house directly opposite and disappeared
+into the shadow behind its encircling hedge. In a moment she was out
+again and had entered the gate of the next house. There she remained
+for some time; indeed the hands on the luminous dial of Cheyne’s watch
+showed three minutes to the hour before she reappeared. She recrossed
+the road and presently Cheyne heard her whisper: “That was a near
+squeak for my dinner! It’s not after ten, is it?”
+
+“Half a minute before,” breathed Cheyne, continuing eagerly: “Well,
+what luck?”
+
+“Watterson & Swayne. Vans came the day after your adventure.”
+
+Cheyne whistled below his breath.
+
+“My word!” he whispered, “but you’re simply It! How in all this
+earthly world did you find that out?”
+
+She chuckled delightedly.
+
+“Easy as winking,” she declared. “Got it fifth shot. I called at five
+of the houses overlooking the Laurel gate, and pretended to be a woman
+detective after the Dangles. I was mysterious about the crimes they
+had committed and got the servants interested. There were servants at
+three of the houses—the others I let alone. I offered the servants
+five shillings for the name of the vans which had come to take the
+stuff, and the third girl remembered. I gave her the five shillings
+and told her I was good for another five if she could tell me the date
+of the moving, and after some time she was able to fix it. She
+remembered she had seen the vans on the day of a party at her
+sister’s, and she found the date of that from an old letter.”
+
+“Good for you! I say, Miss Merrill, if you’re going to carry on like
+this we shall soon have all we want. What’s the next step now?
+Inquiries at Watterson & Swayne’s?”
+
+“No,” she said decidedly, “the next step for you is bed. You’re not
+really well enough yet for this sort of thing. We’ve done enough for
+tonight. We’ll go home.”
+
+Cheyne protested, but as, apart from his health, it was obvious that
+inquiries could not at that hour be instituted at the furniture
+removers, he had to agree.
+
+“I shall go round and see them tomorrow morning,” he remarked as they
+walked back along Hopefield Avenue. “I suppose you couldn’t manage to
+come at that time? Or shall I wait until the afternoon?”
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“Neither,” she answered. “I shall be busy all day and you must just
+carry on.”
+
+Cheyne felt a surprisingly keen disappointment.
+
+“But mayn’t I come and report progress in the afternoon?” he begged.
+
+“Not until after four. I shall be painting up till then.”
+
+He wanted to see her home, but this she would not hear of, and soon he
+was occupying one of these deep chairs in the hotel smoking room whose
+allure had seemed so strong to him in the draughty porch of the
+half-built house. As he sat he thought over the turn which this
+evening’s inquiry had given to the affair in which he was engaged. It
+was clear enough now that Miss Merrill’s view had been correct and
+that the Dangles were scared stiff by the absence of information about
+the finding of his body. As he put himself in their place, he saw that
+flight was indeed their only course. What he marveled at was that they
+should have taken time to remove their furniture. From their point of
+view it must have been a horrible risk, and it undoubtedly left,
+through the carrying contractor, a certain clue to their whereabouts.
+
+But when Cheyne began his inquiries on the following morning he
+rapidly became less impressed with the certainty of the clue. A direct
+request at the firm’s office for Dangle’s address was met by a polite
+_non possumus_, and when during the dinner hour Cheyne succeeded in
+bribing a junior clerk to let him have the information, at a further
+interview the lad declared he could not find it. It was not until
+after five hours’ inquiry among the drivers of the various vans which
+entered and left the yard that he learned anything, and even then he
+found himself no further on. The furniture, which had been collected
+from an unoccupied house, had been stored and still remained in
+Messrs. Watterson & Swayne’s warehouses.
+
+It was a weary and disgruntled Cheyne who at six o’clock that evening
+dragged himself up the ten flights to Miss Merrill’s room. But when he
+was seated in her big armchair with his pipe going and had consumed a
+whisky and soda which she had poured out for him he began to feel that
+all was not necessarily lost and that life had compensations for
+failures in the role of amateur detective.
+
+She listened carefully to his tale of woe, finally dropping a word of
+sympathy with his disappointment and of praise for his efforts which
+left him thinking she was certainly the good pal he expected her to
+be.
+
+“But that’s not the worst,” he went on gloomily. “It’s bad enough that
+I have failed today, but it’s a great deal worse that I don’t know how
+I am going to do any better. Those Watterson & Swayne people simply
+_won’t_ give away any information, and I don’t see how else it’s to be
+got.”
+
+“There’s not much to go on certainly,” she admitted. “That’s where the
+police have the pull. They could go into that office and demand the
+Dangles’ address. You can’t. What about the others, that Sime and that
+Blessington? Could you trace them in any way?”
+
+Cheyne moved lazily in his chair.
+
+“I don’t see how,” he answered slowly. “We have little enough
+information about the Dangles, but there is less still about the
+others. We have practically nothing to go on. I wonder what a real
+detective would do in such a case. I feel perfectly certain he would
+find all four in a few hours.”
+
+“Ha! That gives me an idea.” She sat up and looked at him eagerly, and
+then in answer to his question went on: “What about that detective who
+was already engaged on the case, the one the manager of the Plymouth
+hotel recommended? Why not get hold of him and see what he can do? He
+was a private detective, wasn’t he—not connected with the police?”
+
+“He was, and I have his name and address. By Jove, Miss Merrill, it’s
+an idea! I’ll go round and see him in the morning. He’s a man I didn’t
+take to personally, but what does that matter if he’s good at his
+job?”
+
+Though Cheyne thus enthusiastically received his companion’s
+suggestion, he was not greatly enamored of the idea. As he said, he
+had not liked the man personally, and he would have preferred to have
+kept the affair in his own hands. But he felt bankrupt of ideas for
+carrying on the inquiry, and if a professional was to be brought in,
+this man whom he knew and who was vouched for by the manager of the
+Edgecombe should be as good as another. He decided, however, that he
+would not employ the fellow on the case as a whole. His job should be
+to find the quartet, and if and when he did that he could be paid his
+money and sent about his business. Cheyne felt that at this stage at
+all events he was not going to share the secret of the linen tracing.
+
+But Cheyne, like many another before him, was to learn the
+difficulties which beset the path of him who makes half confidences.
+
+
+
+Chapter IX
+
+Mr. Speedwell Plays His Hand
+
+Next morning Cheyne called at the offices of Messrs. Horton &
+Lavender’s Private Detective Agency and asked if their Mr. Speedwell
+was within. By good fortune Mr. Speedwell was, and a few seconds later
+Cheyne was ushered into the room of the quiet, despondent-looking man
+whom he had interviewed at Warren Lodge nearly two months earlier.
+
+“Glad to see you’re better, sir,” the detective greeted him. “I was
+expecting you would look in one of these days. You had my letter?”
+
+“No,” said Cheyne, considerably surprised, “and I should like to know
+why you were expecting me and how you know I was ill.”
+
+The man smiled deprecatingly.
+
+“If I was really up to my job I suppose I’d tell you that detectives
+knew everything, or at least that I did, but I never make any mystery
+between friends, leastwise when there isn’t any. I knew you were ill
+because I was down at Warren Lodge a month ago looking for you and
+Miss Cheyne told me, and I was expecting you to call because I wrote
+asking you to do so. However, if you didn’t get my letter, why then it
+seems to me I owe the pleasure of this visit to something else.”
+
+“You’re quite right,” said Cheyne. “You do. But before we get on to
+that, tell me what you called and wrote about.”
+
+“I’ll do so, sir. I called because I had got some information for you,
+and when I didn’t see you I wrote for the same reason asking you to
+look in here.”
+
+The man spoke civilly and directly, but yet there was something about
+him which rubbed Cheyne up the wrong way—something furtive in his
+manner, by which instinctively the other was repelled. It was
+therefore with rather less than his usual good-natured courtesy that
+Cheyne returned: “Well, here I am then. What is your information?”
+
+“I’ll tell you, sir. But first let me recall to your mind what
+I—acting for my firm—was asked to find out.” He stressed the words
+“acting for my firm,” and as he did so shot a keen questioning glance
+at Cheyne. The latter did not reply, and Speedwell, after pausing for
+a moment, went on:
+
+“I was employed—or rather my firm was employed”—what his point was
+Cheyne could not see, but he was evidently making one—“my firm was
+employed by the manager of the Edgecombe Hotel to investigate a case
+of alleged drugging which had taken place in the hotel. That was all,
+wasn’t it?”
+
+“That or matters arising therefrom,” Cheyne replied cautiously.
+
+The detective smiled foxily.
+
+“Ah, I see you have taken my meaning, Mr. Cheyne. That or matters
+arising directly therefrom. That, sir, is quite correct. Now, I have
+found out something about that. Not much, I admit, but still
+something. Though whether it is as much as you already are cognizant
+of is another matter.”
+
+Cheyne felt his temper giving way.
+
+“Look here,” he said sharply. “What are you getting at? I can’t spend
+the day here. If you’ve anything to say, for goodness’ sake get along
+and say it and have done with this beating about the bush.”
+
+Speedwell made a deprecating gesture.
+
+“Certainly, sir; as you will. But”—he gave a dry smile—“have you not
+overlooked the fact that you called in to consult me?”
+
+“I shall not do it now,” Cheyne said angrily. “Give me the information
+that you’re being paid for and that will complete our business.”
+
+“No, sir, but with the utmost respect that will only begin it. I’ll
+give you the information right away, but first I’d like to come to an
+understanding about this other business.”
+
+“What under the sun are you talking about? What other business?”
+
+“The breaking and entering.” Speedwell spoke now in a decisive,
+businesslike tone. “The breaking and entering of a house in Hopefield
+Avenue—Laurel Lodge, let us call it—on an evening just six weeks
+ago—on the fifth of April to be exact. I should really say the
+burglary, because there was also the theft of an important document.
+The owners of that document would be glad of information which would
+lead to the arrest of the thief.”
+
+This astounding statement, made in the calm matter-of-fact way in
+which the man was now speaking, took Cheyne completely aback. For a
+moment he hesitated. His character was direct and straightforward, but
+for the space of two seconds he was tempted to prevaricate, to admit
+no knowledge of the incidents referred to. Then his hot temper swept
+away all considerations of what might or might not be prudent, and he
+burst out: “Well, Mr. Speedwell, what of it? If you are so well
+informed as you pretend, you’ll be aware that the parties lost no
+document on that night. I don’t know what you’re after, but it looks
+uncommonly like an attempt at blackmail.”
+
+Mr. Speedwell seemed pained at the suggestion. He assured Cheyne that
+his remarks had been misinterpreted, and deprecated the fact that such
+an unpleasant word had been brought into the discussion. “All the
+same,” he concluded meaningly, “I am glad to have your assurance that
+the document in question was not stolen from the house.”
+
+Cheyne was not only mystified, but a trifle uneasy. He saw now that he
+had been maneuvered into a practical admission that he had committed
+burglary, and there was something in the way the detective had made
+his last remark that seemed vaguely sinister.
+
+“Well, what business of yours is it?” he said brusquely. “What do you
+hope to get out of it?”
+
+Speedwell nodded as he looked at the other out of his close-set
+furtive eyes.
+
+“Now, sir,” he answered approvingly, “that’s what I like. That’s
+coming to business, that is. I thought perhaps I could be of service
+to you, that’s all. Here are these parties looking for you to make a
+prosecution for burglary, and here you are looking for them for a
+paper they have. And here am I,” his face was inexpressibly sly, “in a
+position to help either party, as you might say. There’s an old
+saying, sir, that knowledge is power, and many a time I’ve thought
+it’s a true one.”
+
+“And you want to sell your knowledge?”
+
+“Isn’t it reasonable, _and_ natural? It’s my business to get
+knowledge, and I have to work hard to get it too. You wouldn’t have me
+give away the fruits of my work? It’s all I have to live by.”
+
+“Your knowledge belongs to your firm.”
+
+“No, sir, not in this case it doesn’t. All this work was done in my
+own time; it was my hobby, so to speak. Besides, my firm didn’t ask
+for the information and doesn’t want it.”
+
+“What do you want for it?”
+
+A momentary gleam appeared in Mr. Speedwell’s eyes, but he replied
+quietly and without emotion: “Two hundred pounds. Two hundred pounds
+and you shall hear all I know, and have my best help in whatever you
+want to do into the bargain. And in that case I won’t be able to tell
+the other parties where you are to be found, so being as their
+question was addressed to me and not to my firm.”
+
+“Two hundred pounds!” Cheyne cried. “I’ll see you far enough first.
+Confound your impertinence!” His anger rose and he almost choked.
+“Don’t you imagine you are going to blackmail me! But I’ll tell you
+what I am going to do. I’m going right in now to the head of your firm
+to let him know the way you conduct his business. Two hundred pounds.
+I don’t think!”
+
+He flung himself out of the room and called the girl in the outer
+office.
+
+“I want to see the principal of the firm,” he shouted. “It’s
+important. Either Mr. Horton or Mr. Lavender will do. As soon as
+possible, please.”
+
+The girl seemed half startled and half amused. “_Who_ did you want to
+see?” she asked.
+
+“Mr. Horton or Mr. Lavender,” Cheyne repeated firmly, fixing her with
+a wrathful stare.
+
+“I—I’m afraid I don’t know where they are,” she stammered, the corners
+of her mouth twitching. Yes, she _was_ laughing at him. Confound her
+impertinence also!
+
+“You don’t know?” he shouted furiously. “When will they be in?”
+
+The girl looked scared, then her amusement evidently overcame her
+apprehension and she giggled.
+
+“Not today, I’m afraid,” she answered. “You see Mr. Horton has been
+dead over ten years and Mr. Lavender at least five.”
+
+Cheyne glared at her as he asked thickly:
+
+“Then who is the present principal?”
+
+“Mr. Speedwell.”
+
+“Damn,” said Cheyne: then as he looked at the smiling face of the
+pretty clerk he suddenly felt ashamed of himself.
+
+“I’m sure I beg your pardon,” he said, and as he saw how neatly he had
+got his desserts he laughed ruefully himself. This confounded temper
+of his, he thought, was always putting him into the wrong. He was just
+determining for the thousandth time that he would be more careful not
+to give way to it in future when Mr. Speedwell’s melancholy voice fell
+on his ears.
+
+“Ah, that is better, sir. Won’t you come back and let us resume our
+discussion?”
+
+Cheyne re-entered the private room.
+
+“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he said, “but really your proposition
+was so very—I may say, amazing, that it upset me. Of course you were
+not serious in what you said?”
+
+Mr. Speedwell leaned forward and became the personification of suave
+amiability.
+
+“I sell my wares in the best market, Mr. Cheyne,” he declared. “You
+couldn’t blame me for that; it’s only business. But I don’t want to
+drive a hard bargain with you. I would rather have an amicable
+settlement. I’m always one for peace and goodwill. An amicable
+settlement, sir; that’s what I suggest.” He beamed on Cheyne and
+rubbed his hands genially together.
+
+“If you have information which would be useful to me I am prepared to
+pay its full value. As a matter of fact I called for that purpose. But
+you couldn’t have any worth two hundred pounds or anything like it.”
+
+“No? Well, just what do you want to know?”
+
+“Dangle’s address.”
+
+“I can give you that. Anything else?”
+
+Cheyne hesitated. Should he ask for all the information he could get
+about the sinister quartet and their mysterious activities? He had
+practically admitted the burglary. Should he not make the most of his
+opportunity? In for a penny, in for a pound.
+
+“Did you ever hear of a man called Sime?” he asked.
+
+“Of course, sir. Number Three of the quartet.”
+
+“I should like his address also.”
+
+“I can give it to you. And Blessington’s?”
+
+“Yes, Blessington’s too.”
+
+Cheyne was amazed by the knowledge of this Speedwell. He would give a
+good deal to find out how he had obtained it.
+
+“What are the businesses of these men?”
+
+“That,” said Mr. Speedwell, “is three questions. First: What is
+Dangle’s business? Second: What is Sime’s business? Third: What is
+Blessington’s business? Yes, sir, I can answer these questions also.”
+
+“How did you find all that out?”
+
+Mr. Speedwell smiled and shook his head.
+
+“There, sir, you have me. I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. You see,
+if we professional detectives were to give away our little methods to
+you amateur gentlemen we should soon be out of business. You, sir,
+will appreciate the position. It would be parting with our capital,
+and no business man can afford to do that. Anything else, Mr. Cheyne?”
+
+“You mentioned a paper?”
+
+“Yes, sir?”
+
+“Where is it?”
+
+“That I can answer partially.”
+
+“What is it about?”
+
+“I do not know.”
+
+“Ah, then there is something you do not know. What is the enterprise
+these men are going into in connection with the paper?”
+
+“That, Mr. Cheyne, I do not know either. You see I am perfectly open
+with you. I have been conducting a sort of desultory inquiry into
+these men’s affairs, partly because I was interested, partly because I
+thought I could turn my information into money. I have reached the
+point indicated in my answers. I can proceed with the investigation
+and learn the rest of what you wish to know, assuming of course that
+we come to suitable terms. You can have the information I have already
+gained now, with of course the same proviso.”
+
+“What are your terms?”
+
+“Twenty pounds a question. You have asked six questions to which I can
+give complete answers and one which I can answer partially; say six
+twenties and one ten—total, one hundred and thirty pounds.”
+
+“But it’s iniquitous, scandalous, extortionate! I shouldn’t think of
+paying such a sum.”
+
+“No, sir? That’s a matter for yourself alone. It seems to me, then,
+that our business is completed.” The man paused, then as Cheyne made
+no move continued confidentially. “You see, sir, I needn’t tell a
+gentleman like yourself that value is relative and not absolute. If I
+hadn’t another party willing to pay for my information about you I
+couldn’t perhaps afford to refuse what you might be pleased to offer.
+But if I don’t get my hundred and thirty from you I’ll get it from the
+other party. It’s a matter of £. s. d. for me.”
+
+“But how do I know you won’t get my hundred and thirty and then go to
+the other party for his?”
+
+Mr. Speedwell smiled craftily.
+
+“You don’t know, sir. In these matters one person has to take the
+other’s word. You pay your money and you get the information you ask
+for. You don’t pay and I keep it. It’s for you to say what you’ll do.”
+
+Cheyne sat in thought. It was evident this man could give him valuable
+information, and he was well aware that if he had employed him to
+obtain it it might easily have cost him more than the sum asked. He
+did not doubt, either, that the quartet had asked for information
+about himself. When his dead body had not been found it would have
+been a likely move. But he was surprised that they should have asked
+under their own names. But then again, they mightn’t have. Speedwell
+might have found these out. It was certainly an extraordinary
+coincidence that himself and the gang should have consulted the same
+private detective, though of course there was nothing inherently
+impossible in it.
+
+On the whole he felt disposed to pay the money. He was comfortably
+enough off and he would scarcely feel it. The payment would not commit
+him to anything or put him in any way in the power of this detective.
+Moreover, the man was evidently skillful at his job and it might be
+useful enough to have him on his side. And last, but not least, after
+his failure of the day before it would be a pleasure to go back to
+Miss Merrill and tell her how well he had succeeded on this occasion.
+
+“Look here,” he said. “I don’t think you can expect me to believe that
+these people came and asked you to find the burglar who had made off
+with their confidential paper, so that they might prosecute. That’s
+rather tall, you know. Why didn’t they go direct to the police?”
+
+“I’m only telling you what they said. I’m not saying I believed it was
+really what they wanted.” Speedwell paused. “As a matter of fact I
+don’t mind telling you what I think,” he went on presently. “I believe
+they are scared about you, and they want to find you to finish up the
+job they bungled. That’s what I think, but I may be wrong.”
+
+“And if I pay you your hundred and thirty you’ll give me your pledge
+not to give them the information?”
+
+Mr. Speedwell looked pained.
+
+“I don’t think I said that, sir. It was two hundred that was
+mentioned. But see here. I don’t want to be grasping. If you make it
+the even hundred and fifty I’ll answer your questions and not theirs.
+Is it a bargain, sir?”
+
+“Yes,” said Cheyne. “I have my check-book here and I’ll fill you in a
+check for the money as soon as I get your replies.”
+
+Mr. Speedwell beamed.
+
+“Excellent, sir. An amicable settlement. That’s what I like. Well,
+sir, I can trust you to keep your word. Here are the answers to your
+questions.” He took a bulky notebook from his pocket and continued:
+
+“First question, Dangle’s present address: Earlswood, Dalton Avenue,
+Wembley.” He waited while Cheyne wrote the address, then went on:
+“Second question, Sime’s present address: 12 Colton Street, Putney.”
+Again a pause and then: “Third question, Blessington’s present
+address: Earlswood, Dalton Av—”
+
+“The same as Dangle’s?”
+
+“The same as Dangle’s, or rather, to be strictly accurate, Dangle’s is
+the same as Blessington’s. Blessington lives at this place and has for
+several years; Dangle joined him about six weeks ago, to be precise,
+on the day after the incident which I have just forgotten.”
+
+Cheyne nodded with a rueful smile.
+
+“Well, then, these men’s occupations?”
+
+Mr. Speedwell was not to be hurried.
+
+“Fourth question,” he proceeded methodically, “Dangle’s occupation.
+Dangle, Mr. Cheyne, is just an ordinary town sharp. He has a bit of
+money and adds to it in the usual ways. He’s in with a cardsharping
+gang and helps them in their stunts—for a consideration. He frequents
+a West End gaming room, and if there is any fat pigeon around he’ll
+lend a hand in the plucking. The sister helps as a decoy. They’re a
+warm pair and I should think are watched by the police. They’ll not
+want their dealings with you to come into the limelight anyway, so
+you’ve a pull over them there.”
+
+“Has Dangle no ostensible profession?”
+
+“Not that I know of, unless you call billiard playing a profession.”
+
+“You might give me the address of the gaming rooms.”
+
+“27 Greenway Lane, Knightsbridge.”
+
+“What about Sime?”
+
+“Sime is another of the same kidney. He does the night club end and
+brings likely mugs on to the gaming rooms. A plausible ruffian, Sime.
+A man without scruple and bad to be up against. He has no ostensible
+business, either.”
+
+“And Blessington?”
+
+“Blessington is, in my opinion, the worst of the three. He has ten
+times the brains of the other two put together and is an out and out
+scoundrel. He’s well enough off in a small way and is supposed to have
+made his money by systematic blackmail. He’s supplying the cash for
+this little do of yours, whatever it may be. He is believed at Wembley
+to be something in the city, but I don’t think he has any job. Lives
+on the interest of his money, I should think.”
+
+Cheyne noted the replies, marveling how the detective had come to
+learn so much. Then he asked his seventh question.
+
+“Where is the paper?”
+
+“That, sir, I can only answer partially. It is, or was up till quite
+lately, in Blessington’s possession. Whether he carries it about with
+him or keeps it in his house or in his bank I don’t know. He may even
+have lent it to one of the others, but he is the chief of the
+enterprise and it appears to belong to him.”
+
+“That’s all right,” Cheyne admitted. “Now what were you going to tell
+me apart from these questions—the information you wrote about?”
+
+“Simply, sir, that the man who drugged you in the Edgecombe Hotel in
+Plymouth was named Stewart Blessington, that he lived at Wembley, and
+that he drugged you in order to ascertain if you carried on your
+person a certain paper of which he was in search.”
+
+“You can’t tell me how he did it?”
+
+“No, sir. Some simple trick of course, but I had no chance to find it
+out. I might perhaps suggest that he had two similar flasks, one
+innocent and the other drugged, and that he changed them by sleight of
+hand while attracting your attention elsewhere.”
+
+Cheyne shook his head. He had thought of this explanation before, but
+it was not satisfactory. He had been watching the man and he was
+satisfied he had not played any such trick. Besides, this would not
+explain why no trace of a drug was found in the food. Speedwell,
+however, could make no further suggestion.
+
+Cheyne put away his notebook.
+
+“There’s another thing I should like to know,” he said, “and that is
+how you have learned all this. I suppose you won’t tell me?”
+
+Speedwell smiled as he shook his head.
+
+“Some day, sir, when the case is over. You see, if I were to show you
+my channels of information you would naturally use them yourself, and
+then where should I come in? A man in my job soon learns where to pick
+up a bit of knowledge. It’s partly practice and partly knowing the
+ropes.”
+
+“And there’s another thing I wish,” Cheyne went on as if he had not
+heard the other, “and that is that you had gone a bit further in your
+researches and learned what that paper was and what game that gang is
+up to.”
+
+The detective’s manner became more eager.
+
+“That’s what I was coming to myself, Mr. Cheyne. If you want that
+information I can get it for you. But it may cost you a bit of money.
+It would depend on the time I should have to spend on it and the risks
+I should have to run. If you would like me to take it on for you I
+could do so. But of course it’s a matter for yourself altogether.”
+
+Cheyne reflected. This Speedwell had certainly done an amazing amount
+of work already on the case, and his success so far showed that he was
+a shrewd and capable man. To engage him to complete the work would
+probably be the quickest way of bringing the matter to a head, and the
+easiest, so far as he himself was concerned. But then he would lose
+all the excitement and the fun. He had pitted his wits against these
+men, and to hand the affair over to Speedwell would be to confess
+himself beaten. Moreover, he would have to admit his failure to Miss
+Merrill and to forego any more alarms and excursions in her company.
+No, he would keep the thing in his own hands for the present at all
+events.
+
+He therefore said that he was obliged for the other’s offer, which
+later on he might be glad to accept, but that for the moment he would
+not make any further move.
+
+“Right, sir. Whatever you say,” Speedwell agreed amicably. “I might
+add what indeed you’ll be able to guess for yourself from what I’ve
+told you, that this crowd is a pretty shrewd crowd, and they’ll not,
+so to speak, be beating the air in this job of yours. They’re going
+for something, and you may take it from me that something will be
+worth their going for. At least, if not, I’ll eat my hat.”
+
+“I quite agree with you,” Cheyne returned, fumbling in his pocket. “It
+now remains for me to write my check and then we shall be square.”
+
+Cheyne counted the hours until four o’clock, and as soon as he dared
+he set off for No. 17 Horne Terrace. Indeed, he timed his visit so
+well that as he reached the top of the tenth flight of steps, the door
+of room No. 12 opened and the model emerged. She held the door open
+for him, and ten minutes later he was seated in the big armchair
+drinking the usual cup of fragrant China tea.
+
+Miss Merrill listened with close attention to his story, but she was
+not so enthusiastic at his success as he could have wished. She made
+no comment until he had finished and then her remark was, if anything,
+disparaging.
+
+“I don’t quite like it, you know,” she said slowly. “From your
+description of him it certainly looks as if that detective was playing
+a game of his own. It doesn’t sound straight. Do you think you can
+trust him?”
+
+“Not as far as I can see him, but how can I help myself? I expect the
+addresses he gave are all correct, but I’m not at all satisfied that
+he won’t go straight to the gang and tell them he has found me and get
+their money for that.”
+
+“And you think you wouldn’t be wiser to back out yourself and instruct
+him to carry on for you?”
+
+Cheyne sat up and took his pipe out of his mouth.
+
+“I’m damned if I will,” he declared hotly. “It might be a lot wiser
+and all that, but I’m just not going to.”
+
+“You’re quite sure? I couldn’t persuade you?” she went on demurely,
+without looking at him.
+
+“I can’t imagine you trying, Miss Merrill. But in any case I’m going
+on.”
+
+“Good!” she cried, and her eyes lit up as she smiled at him. “You’re
+quite mad, but I sometimes like mad people. Then if, in spite of all I
+can say, you’re going on, what about a visit to Wembley tonight?”
+
+“The very ticket!” Cheyne was swept by a wave of delight and
+enthusiasm. “It is jolly of you to suggest it. And you will come out
+to dinner and I may pay my bet!”
+
+“As it’s a bet—all right. But you must go away now. I have some things
+to attend to. I’ll meet you when and where you say.”
+
+“What about the Trocadero at seven? A leisurely dinner and then we for
+Wembley?”
+
+“Right-o,” she laughed and vanished into the other room, while Cheyne,
+full of an eager excitement, went off to telephone orders to the
+restaurant as to the reservation of places.
+
+
+
+Chapter X
+
+The New Firm Gets Busy
+
+Cheyne and Joan Merrill took a Wembley Park train from Baker Street
+shortly before nine that evening, and a few minutes later alighted at
+the station whose name was afterwards to become a household word
+throughout the length and breadth of the British Empire. But at that
+time the Exhibition was not yet thought of, and the ground, which was
+later to hum with scores of thousands of visitors from all parts of
+the world, was now a dark and deserted plain.
+
+When the young people left the station and began to look around them,
+they found that they had reached the actual fringe of the metropolis.
+Towards London were the last outlying rows of detached and
+semidetached houses of the standard suburban type. In the opposite
+direction, towards Harrow, was the darkness of open country. Judging
+by the number of lights that were visible, this country was
+extraordinarily sparsely inhabited.
+
+Guarded inquiries from the railway officials had evoked the
+information that Dalton Road lay some ten minutes’ walk from the
+station in a northeasterly direction, and thither the two set off.
+They passed along with circumspection, keeping as far as possible from
+the street lamps and with their coat collars turned up and the brims
+of their hats pulled down over their eyes. But the place was deserted.
+During the whole of their walk they met only one person—a man going
+evidently to the station, and he strode past with barely a glance.
+
+Dalton Road proved, save for its street lamps and footpath, to be
+little more than a lane. It led somewhat windingly in an easterly
+direction off the main road. The country at this point was more
+thickly populated and there was quite a number of houses in view. All
+were built in the style of forty years ago, and were nearly all
+detached, standing in small grounds or lots. Here and there were fine
+old trees which looked as if they must have been in existence long
+before the houses, and most of the lots were well supplied with shrubs
+and with high and thick partition hedges.
+
+Nearly all the gates bore names, and as the two young people walked
+along, they had no difficulty in identifying Earlswood. There was a
+lamp at the other side of the road which enabled them to read the
+white letters on their green ground. Without pausing they glanced
+around, noting what they could of their surroundings.
+
+A narrow lane running north and south intersected Dalton Road at this
+point, and in each of the four angles were houses. That in the
+southwest corner was undergoing extension, the side next the lane
+showing scaffolding and half-built brick walls. The two adjoining
+corners were occupied by houses which presented no interesting
+features, and in the fourth corner, diagonally opposite that of the
+building operations, stood Earlswood. All four houses were surrounded
+by unusually large lots containing plenty of trees. Earlswood was
+particularly secluded, the hall door being almost hidden from both
+road and lane by hedges and shrubs.
+
+“Lucky it’s got all those trees about it,” Cheyne whispered as they
+passed on down Dalton Road. “If we have to burgle it we can do it
+without being overlooked by the neighbors.”
+
+They continued on their way until they found that Dalton Road
+debouched on a wide thoroughfare which inquiries showed was Watling
+Street, the main road between London and St. Albans. Then retracing
+their steps to Earlswood, they followed the cross lane, first south,
+which brought them back to Wembley, and north, which after about a
+mile brought them out on the Harrow Road. Having thus learned the lie
+of the land so as to know where to head in case a sudden flight became
+necessary, they returned once more to Earlswood to attempt a closer
+examination of the house.
+
+They had noticed when passing along the cross lane beside the house to
+which the extension was being made that a gap had been broken in the
+hedge for the purpose of getting in the building materials. This was
+closed only by a wooden slat. With one consent they made for the gap,
+slipped through, and crouching in the shadow of the shrubs within, set
+themselves to watch Earlswood.
+
+No light showed in any of the front windows, and as soon as Miss
+Merrill was seated on a bundle of brushwood sheltered from the light
+but rather chilly wind, Cheyne crept out to reconnoiter more closely.
+Making sure that no one was approaching, he slipped through the hedge,
+and then crossing both road and lane diagonally, passed down the lane
+at the side of Earlswood.
+
+There was no gap in the Earlswood hedge, but just as in the case of
+that other similarly situated house which he had investigated, a
+narrow lane ran along at the bottom of the tiny garden behind. Cheyne
+turned into this and stood looking at the back of the house. The whole
+proceeding seemed familiar, a repetition of his actions on the night
+he traced the gang to Hopefield Avenue.
+
+But the back of this house was in darkness, and pushing open a gate,
+he passed from the lane to the garden and silently approached the
+building. A path led straight from gate to door, a side door
+evidently, as the walled-in yard was on his left hand. Another path to
+the right led round the house to the hall door in the front.
+
+Cheyne walked slowly round, examining doors and windows. All of these
+were fastened and he did not see how without breaking the glass he
+could force an entrance. But he found a window at the back, the sash
+of which was loose and easy fitting, and decided that in case of need
+he would operate on this.
+
+Having learned everything he could, he retraced his steps to his
+companion and they held a whispered consultation. Cheyne was for
+taking the opportunity of the house being empty to make an attempt
+then and there to get in. But Miss Merrill would not hear of it. Such
+a venture, she said, would require very careful thought as well as
+apparatus which they had not got. “Besides,” she added, “you’ve done
+enough for one night. Remember you’re not completely well yet.”
+
+“Oh, blow my health; I’m perfectly all right,” he whispered back, but
+he had to admit her other arguments were sound and the two, cautiously
+emerging from their hiding-place, walked back to Wembley and took the
+next train to town.
+
+She was silent during the journey, but as they reached Baker Street
+she turned to him and said: “Look here, I believe I’ve got an idea.
+Bring a long-burning electric torch with you tomorrow afternoon and
+whatever tools you want to open the window, and perhaps we’ll try our
+luck.” She would not explain her plan nor would she allow him to
+accompany her to the studio, so with rather a bad grace he said good
+night and returned to his hotel.
+
+The next day he spent in making an assortment of purchases. These were
+in all a powerful electric torch, guaranteed to burn brightly for a
+couple of hours, a short, slightly bent lever of steel with a chisel
+point at one end, a cap, a pair of thin gloves, a glazier’s diamond,
+some twenty feet of thin rope and a five-inch piece of bright steel
+tubing with a tiny handle at one side. These, when four o’clock came,
+he took with him to Horne Terrace and spread in triumph on Miss
+Merrill’s table.
+
+“Good gracious!” cried the young lady as she stared wonderingly at the
+collection. “Whatever are these? Another expedition to Mount Everest?”
+
+“Torch: takes the place of the old dark lantern,” Cheyne answered
+proudly, pointing to the article in question. “Jemmy for persuading
+intractable doors, boxes and drawers; cap that will not drop or blow
+off; gloves to keep one’s fingerprints off the furniture; diamond for
+making holes in panes of glass; penknife for shooting back snibs of
+windows; rope for escaping from upstairs windows, and this”—he picked
+up the bit of tube and levelled it at her—“what price this for
+bluffing out of a tight place? If the light’s not too good it’s a
+pretty fair imitation. Also”—he pointed to his feet—“rubber-soled
+shoes for silence.”
+
+She gave a delightful little ripple of laughter, then became serious.
+
+“Have you no anklets?” she asked anxiously. “Don’t say you have
+forgotten your anklets!”
+
+“Anklets?” he repeated. “What d’you mean? I don’t follow.”
+
+“To guard against the bites of sharks, of course,” she declared.
+“Don’t you remember the White Knight had them for his horse?”
+
+Cheyne was so serious and eager that he felt somewhat dashed, but he
+joined in the laugh, and when they had had tea they settled down to
+talk over their arrangements. Then it seemed that she really had a
+plan, and when Cheyne heard it he became immediately enthusiastic.
+Like all good plans it was simple, and soon they had the details cut
+and dry.
+
+“Let’s try tonight,” Cheyne cried in excitement.
+
+“Yes, I think we should. If these people have some scheme on hand
+every day’s delay is in their favor and against you.”
+
+“Against us, Joan, not against me,” he cried, then realizing what he
+had said, he looked at her anxiously. “I may call you Joan, mayn’t I?”
+he pleaded. “You see, we’re partners now.”
+
+She didn’t mind, it appeared, what he called her. Any old name would
+do. And she didn’t mind calling him Maxwell either. She hadn’t noticed
+that Maxwell was so frightfully long and clumsy, but she supposed Max
+_was_ shorter. So that was that. They returned to the Plan. Though
+they continued discussing it for nearly an hour neither was able to
+improve on it, except that they decided that the first thing to be
+done if they got hold of the tracing was to copy their adversaries and
+photograph it.
+
+“Drat this daylight saving,” Cheyne grumbled. “If it wasn’t for that
+we could start a whole hour earlier. As it is there is no use going
+out there before nine.” He paused and then went on: “Queer thing that
+these two houses should be so much alike—this Earlswood and the one in
+Hopefield Avenue. Both at cross roads, both with lanes behind them,
+and both surrounded by gardens and hedges and shrubs.”
+
+“Very queer,” Joan admitted, “especially as there probably aren’t more
+than a hundred thousand houses of that type in London. But it’s all to
+the good. You’ll feel at home when you get in.”
+
+They sparred pleasantly for some time, then after a leisurely dinner
+they tubed to Baker Street and took the train to Wembley Park. It was
+darker than on the previous evening, for the sky was thickly overcast.
+There had been some rain during the day, but this had now ceased,
+though the wind had turned east and it had become cold and raw.
+
+Turning into Dalton Road, they reached the cross-lane at Earlswood,
+passed through the gap in the hedge and took up their old position
+among the shrubs. They had seen no one and they believed they were
+unobserved. From where they crouched they could see that Earlswood was
+again in darkness, and presently Cheyne slipped away to explore.
+
+He was soon back again with the welcome news that the rear of the
+house was also unlighted and that the Plan might be put into operation
+forthwith. In spite of Joan’s ridicule he had insisted on bringing his
+complete outfit, and he now stood up and patted himself over to make
+sure that everything was in place. The cap, the gloves, and the shoes
+he was wearing, the rope was coiled round his waist beneath his coat,
+and the other articles were stowed in his various pockets. He turned
+and signified that he was ready.
+
+Joan opened the proceedings by passing out through the gap in the
+hedge, walking openly across to the Earlswood hall door, and ringing.
+This was to make sure that the house really was untenanted. If any one
+came she would simply ask if Mrs. Bryce-Harris was at home and then
+apologize for having mistaken the address.
+
+But no one answered, and the demonstration of this was Cheyne’s cue.
+When he had waited for five minutes after Joan’s departure and no
+sound came from across the road, he in his turn slipped out through
+the gap in the hedge, and after a glance round, crossed Dalton Road,
+and passing down by the side of Earlswood, turned into the lane at the
+back. On this occasion he could dimly see the gate into the garden,
+which was painted white, and he passed through, leaving it open behind
+him, and reached the house.
+
+The point upon which Joan’s plan hinged was that, owing to the shrubs
+in front of the building, it was possible to remain concealed in the
+shadows beside the porch, invisible from the road. She proposed,
+therefore, to stay at the door while Cheyne was carrying on operations
+within, and to ring if any one approached the house, adding a double
+knock if there was urgent danger. She would hold the newcomer with
+inquiries as to the whereabouts of the mythical Mrs. Bryce-Harris,
+thus insuring time for her companion to beat a retreat. She herself
+also would have time in which to vanish before her victims realized
+what had happened.
+
+Feeling, therefore, that he would have a margin in which to withdraw
+if flight became necessary, Cheyne set to work to force an entrance.
+He rapidly examined the doors and windows, but all were fastened as
+before. Choosing the window with the loose sash upon which he had
+already decided, he took his knife and tried to open the catch. The
+two sashes were “rabbitted” where they met, but he was able to push
+the blade up right through the overhanging wood of the upper sash and
+lever the catch round until it snapped clear. Then withdrawing the
+knife, he raised the bottom sash. A moment later he was standing on
+the scullery floor.
+
+His first care was to unlock and throw open the back door, so as to
+provide an emergency exit in case of need. Then he closed and
+refastened the scullery window, darkening with a pencil the wood where
+the knife had broken a splinter. As he said to himself, there was no
+kind of sense in calling attention to his visit.
+
+He crossed the hall and silently opened the front door to see that all
+was right with Joan. Then closing it again, he began a search of the
+house.
+
+The building was of old-fashioned design, a narrow hall running
+through its center from back to front. Five doors opened off this
+hall, leading to the dining room and the kitchen at one side, a
+sitting room and a kind of library or study at the other, and the
+garden at the back. Upstairs were four bedrooms—one unoccupied—and a
+servant’s room.
+
+Cheyne rapidly passed through the house searching for likely hiding
+places for the tracing. Soon he came to the conclusion that unless
+some freak place had been chosen, it would be in one of two places:
+either a big roll-top desk in the library or an old-fashioned
+escritoire in one of the bedrooms. Both of these were locked.
+Fortunately there was no safe.
+
+He decided to try the desk first. A gentle application of the jemmy
+burst its lock and he threw up the cover and sat down to go through
+the contents.
+
+Evidently it belonged to Blessington, and evidently also Blessington
+was a man of tidy and businesslike habits. There were but few papers
+on the desk and these from their date were clearly current and waiting
+to be dealt with. In the drawers were bundles of letters, accounts,
+receipts, and miscellaneous papers, all neatly tied together with tape
+and docketed. In one of the side drawers was a card index and in
+another a vertical numeralpha letter file. Through all of these Cheyne
+hurriedly looked, but nowhere was there any sign of the tracing.
+
+A few measurements with a pocket rule showed that there were no spaces
+in the desk unaccounted for, and closing the top, Cheyne hurried
+upstairs to the escritoire. It was a fine old piece and it went to his
+heart to damage it with the jemmy. But he remembered his treatment
+aboard the _Enid_, and such a paroxysm of anger swept over him that he
+plunged in the point of his tool and ruthlessly splintered open the
+lid.
+
+The drawers were fastened by separate locks, and each one Cheyne
+smashed with a savage satisfaction. Then he began to examine their
+contents.
+
+This was principally bundles of old letters, tied up in the same
+methodical way as those downstairs. Cheyne did not read anything, but
+from the fragments of sentences which he could not help seeing there
+seemed ample corroboration of Speedwell’s statements that Blessington
+lived by professional blackmail. He felt a wave of disgust sweep over
+him as he went through drawer after drawer of the obscene collection.
+
+But here also no luck met his efforts, and with a sinking heart he
+took out his rule to measure the escritoire. And then he became
+suddenly excited as he found that the thickness of the wood at the
+back of the drawers, which normally should have been about half an
+inch, measured no less than four inches. Here, surely, there must be a
+secret drawer.
+
+He examined the woodwork, but nowhere could he see the slightest trace
+of an opening. He pressed and pulled and pushed, but still without
+result: no knob would slide, no panel depress. But of the existence of
+the space there was no doubt. There was room for a receptacle six
+inches by twelve by three, and, moreover, all six sides of it sounded
+hollow when tapped.
+
+There was nothing for it but force. With a sharp stroke he rammed the
+point of the jemmy into the side. It penetrated, he levered it down,
+and with a grinding, cracking sound the wood split and part of it was
+prised off. Eagerly Cheyne put the torch to the opening, and he
+chuckled with satisfaction as he saw within the familiar lilac gray of
+the tracing.
+
+Once again he inserted the point of the jemmy to prise off the
+remainder of the side, but the heavy wood at the top of the piece
+prevented his getting a leverage. He withdrew the tool to find a fresh
+purchase, but as he did so, the front door bell rang—several sharp,
+jerky peals. Frantically he jammed in the jemmy, intending by sheer
+force to smash out the wood, but his position was hampered, and it
+cracked, but did not give. As he tried desperately for a fresh hold an
+urgent double knock sounded from below. Sweating and tugging with the
+jemmy he heard voices outside the window. And then with a resounding
+crack the panel gave, he plunged in his hand, seized the tracing,
+thrust it and the jemmy into his pocket and rushed out of the room.
+
+But as he did so he heard the front door open and Dangle’s voice from
+below: “It sounded in the house. Didn’t you think so?” and Susan’s:
+“Yes, upstairs, I thought.”
+
+Cheyne looked desperately round for a weapon. Near the head of the
+stairs stood a light cane chair, and this he seized as he dashed down.
+As he turned the angle of the stairs Dangle switched on the light in
+the hall, and with a startled oath ran forward to intercept him. With
+all his might Cheyne hurled the chair at the other’s head. Dangle
+threw up his arms to protect his face, and by the time he recovered
+himself Cheyne was in the hall, doubling round the newel post. Both
+Dangle and Susan clutched at the flying figure. But Cheyne, twisting
+like an eel, tore himself free and made at top speed for the back
+door. This he slammed after him, rushing as fast as he could down the
+garden. He slackened only to pull the gate to as he passed through it,
+then sped along the lane, and turning at its end away from Dalton
+Road, tore off into the night.
+
+These proceedings were not in accordance with the Plan. The intention
+had been that on either recovering the tracing or satisfying himself
+that it was not in the house, Cheyne would close the back door, and
+letting himself out by the front, would meet Joan, pull the door to
+after them, walk round the house and quietly disappear via the garden
+and lane. But the possibility of an unexpected flight had been
+recognized. It had been decided that in such a case the first thing
+would be to get rid of the tracing, so that in the event of capture,
+the fruits of the raid would at least be safe. Therefore, on all the
+routes away from Earlswood hiding places had been fixed on, from which
+Joan would afterwards recover it. Along the lane the hiding place was
+the back of a wall approaching a culvert, and over this wall Cheyne
+duly threw the booty as he rushed along.
+
+By this time Dangle was out on the road and running for all he was
+worth. But Cheyne had the advantage of him. He was lighter and an
+experienced athlete, and, except for his illness, was in better
+training. Moreover, he was more lightly clad and wore rubber shoes.
+Dangle, though Cheyne did not know it, was hampered by an overcoat and
+patent leather boots. He could not gain on the fugitive, and Cheyne
+heard his footsteps dropping farther and farther behind, until at last
+they ceased altogether.
+
+Cheyne slacked to a walk as he wiped the perspiration from his
+forehead. So far as he was concerned he had now only to make his way
+back to town and meet Joan at her studio. He considered his position
+and concluded his best and safest plan would be to go on to Harrow and
+take an express for Marylebone—if he could get one.
+
+He duly reached Harrow, but he found there that he would have nearly
+an hour to wait for a non-stop train for London. He decided, however,
+that this would be better than risking a halt at Wembley Park, and he
+hung about at the end of the platform until the train came along. On
+reaching town he took a taxi to Horne Terrace and hurried up to No.
+12. Joan had not returned!
+
+He waited outside her room for a considerable time, then coming down,
+began to pace the street in front of the house. Every moment he became
+more and more anxious. It was now half past twelve o’clock and she
+should have been back over an hour ago. What could be keeping her?
+Merciful Heavens! If anything could have happened to her.
+
+He wrote a note on a leaf of his pocketbook saying he would return in
+the morning, and going once more up to her flat, pushed it under the
+door. Then hailing a belated taxi, he offered the man a fancy price to
+drive him to Wembley Park.
+
+Some half-hour later he climbed over the wall across which he had
+thrown the tracing. A careful search showed that it was no longer
+there; moreover it revealed the print of a dainty shoe with a rather
+high heel, such as he had noticed Joan wearing earlier in the evening.
+He returned to the shrubs at the gap where they had waited, but there
+he could find no trace of her at all. Then he walked all round
+Earlswood, but it was shrouded in darkness. Finally, his taximan
+having refused to wait for him and all traffic being over for the day,
+he set out to walk to London, which he reached between three and four
+o’clock.
+
+He had some coffee at a stall and then returned to his hotel, but by
+seven he was once more at Horne Terrace. Eagerly he raced up the steps
+and knocked at No. 12. There was no answer.
+
+Suddenly a white speck below the door caught his eye, and stooping, he
+saw the note he had pushed in on the previous evening. Joan evidently
+had not yet returned.
+
+
+
+Chapter XI
+
+Otto Schulz’s Secret
+
+Cheyne, faced by the disquieting fact that Joan Merrill had failed to
+reach home in spite of her expressed intention to return there
+immediately, stood motionless outside her door, aghast and irresolute.
+With a growing anxiety he asked himself what could have occurred to
+delay her. He knew her well enough to be satisfied that she would not
+change her mind through sudden caprice. Something had happened to her,
+and as he considered the possibilities, he grew more and more uneasy.
+
+The contingency was one which neither of them had foreseen, and for
+the moment he was at a loss as to how to cope with it. First, in his
+hot-blooded way he thought of buying a real pistol, returning to
+Earlswood, and shooting Blessington and Dangle unless they revealed
+her whereabouts. Then reason told him that they really might not know,
+that Joan might have met with an accident or for some reason have gone
+to friends for the night, and he thought of putting the matter in
+Speedwell’s hands. But he soon saw that Speedwell had not the means or
+the organization to deal adequately with the affair and his thoughts
+turned to Scotland Yard. He was loath to confess his own essays in
+illegality in such an unsympathetic _milieu_, but of course no
+hesitation was possible if Joan’s safety was at stake.
+
+Still pondering the problem, he turned and slowly descended the
+stairs. He would wait, he thought, for an hour or perhaps two—say
+until nine. If by nine o’clock she had neither turned up nor sent a
+message he would go to Scotland Yard, no matter what the consequences
+to himself might be.
+
+Thinking that he should go back to his hotel in case she telephoned,
+he strode off along the pavement. But he had scarcely left the doorway
+when he heard his name called from behind, and swinging round, he
+gazed in speechless amazement at the figure confronting him. It was
+James Dangle!
+
+For a moment they stared at one another, and then Cheyne saw red.
+
+“You infernal scoundrel!” he yelled, and sprang at the other’s throat.
+Dangle, stepping back, threw up his hands to parry the onslaught,
+while he cried earnestly:
+
+“Steady, Mr. Cheyne; for heaven’s sake, steady! I have a message for
+you from Miss Merrill.”
+
+Cheyne glared wrathfully, but he pulled himself together and released
+his hold.
+
+“Don’t speak her name, you blackguard!” he said thickly. “What’s your
+message?”
+
+“She is all right,” Dangle answered quickly, “but the rest of it will
+take time to tell. Let us get out of this.”
+
+Some passers-by, hearing the raised voices, had stopped, and a small
+crowd, eager for a row, had collected about the two men. Dangle seized
+Cheyne’s wrist and hurried him down the street and round the corner.
+
+“Let’s go to your hotel, Mr. Cheyne, or anywhere else we can talk,” he
+begged. “What I have to say will take a little time.”
+
+Cheyne snatched his wrist away.
+
+“Keep your filthy hands to yourself,” he snarled. “Where is Miss
+Merrill?”
+
+“I am sorry to say she has met with a slight accident,” Dangle
+replied, speaking quickly and with placatory gestures; “not in any way
+serious, only a twisted ankle. I found her on the road on my way back
+from chasing you, leaning up against the stone wall which runs along
+the lane at the back of Blessington’s house. She had hurt herself in
+climbing down to get the tracing which you threw over. I called my
+sister and we helped her into the house, and Susan bathed and bound up
+her ankle and fixed her up comfortably on the sofa. It is not really a
+sprain, but it will be painful for a day or two.”
+
+Cheyne was taken aback not only by his enemy’s knowledge, but also by
+being talked to in so friendly a fashion, and in his relief at the
+news he felt his anger draining away.
+
+“You’ve got the tracing again, I suppose?” he said ruefully.
+
+Dangle smiled.
+
+“Well, yes, we have,” he agreed. “But I have to admit it was the
+result of two lucky chances; first, my sister’s and my return just
+when we did, and second, Miss Merrill’s unfortunate false step over
+the wall. But your scheme was a good one, and with ordinary luck you
+would have pulled it off.”
+
+Cheyne grunted, and Dangle, turning towards him, went on earnestly:
+“Look here, Mr. Cheyne, why should we be on opposite sides in this
+affair? I have spoken to my partners, and we are all agreed. You are
+the kind of man we want, and we believe we could be of benefit to one
+another. In fact, to make a long story short, I am authorized to lay
+before you a certain proposition. I believe it will appeal to you. It
+is for that purpose I should like to go somewhere where we could talk.
+If not to your hotel, I know a place a few hundred yards down this
+street where we could get a private room.”
+
+“I want to go out and see Miss Merrill.”
+
+“Of course you do. But Miss Merrill was asleep when I left and most
+probably will sleep for an hour or two yet, so there is time enough. I
+beg that you will first hear what I have to say. Then we can go out
+together.”
+
+“Well, come to my hotel,” Cheyne said ungraciously, and the two walked
+along, Dangle making tentative essays in conversation, all of which
+were brought to nought by the uncompromising brevity of his
+companion’s responses.
+
+“You’d better come up to my bedroom,” Cheyne growled when at last they
+reached their goal. “These dratted servants are cleaning the public
+rooms.”
+
+In silence they sought the lift and Cheyne led the way to his
+apartment. Bolting the door, he pointed to a chair, stood himself with
+his back to the empty fireplace and remarked impatiently: “Well?”
+
+Dangle laughed lightly.
+
+“I see you’re not going to help me out, Mr. Cheyne, and I suppose I
+can scarcely wonder at it. Well, I’ll get ahead without further delay.
+But, as I’ve a good deal to say, I should suggest you sit down, and if
+you don’t mind, I’ll smoke. Try one of these Coronas; they were given
+to me, so you needn’t mind taking one. No? I wonder would you mind if
+I rang and ordered some coffee and rolls? I’ve not breakfasted yet and
+I’m hungry.”
+
+With a bad grace Cheyne rang the bell.
+
+“Coffee and rolls for two,” Dangle ordered when an attendant came to
+the door. “You will join me, won’t you? Even if my mission comes to
+nothing and we remain enemies, there’s no reason why we should make
+our interview more unpleasant than is necessary.”
+
+Cheyne strode up and down the room.
+
+“But I don’t want the confounded interview,” he exclaimed angrily.
+“For goodness’ sake get along and say what you have to say and clear
+out. I haven’t forgotten the _Enid_.”
+
+“No, that was illegal, wasn’t it? Almost as bad as breaking and
+entering, burglary and theft. But now, there’s no kind of sense in
+squabbling. Sit down and listen and I’ll tell you a story that will
+interest you in spite of yourself.”
+
+“I shouldn’t wonder,” Cheyne said with sarcasm as he flung himself
+into a chair, “but if it’s going to be more lies about St. John Price
+and the Hull succession you may save your breath.”
+
+Dangle smiled whimsically. “It was for your sake, Mr. Cheyne; perhaps
+not quite legitimate, but still done with the best intention. I told
+him that yarn—I admit, of course, it was a yarn—simply to make it easy
+for you to give up the letter. I knew that nothing would induce you to
+part with it if you thought it dishonorable; hence the story.”
+
+Cheyne laughed harshly.
+
+“And what will be the object of the new yarn?”
+
+“This time it won’t be a yarn. I will tell you the truth.”
+
+“And you expect me to believe it?”
+
+Dangle leaned forward and spoke more earnestly.
+
+“You will believe it, not, I’m afraid, because I tell it, but because
+it is capable of being checked. A great portion of it can be
+substantiated by inquiries at the Admiralty and elsewhere, and your
+reason will satisfy you as to the remainder.”
+
+“Well, go on and get it over anyway.”
+
+Dangle once more smilingly shrugged his shoulders, lit his cigar and
+began:
+
+“My tale commences as before with our mutual friend, Arnold Price, and
+once again it goes back to the year 1917. In February of ’17 Arnold
+Price was, as you know, third mate of the _Maurania_, and I was on the
+same ship in command of her bow gun—she had guns mounted fore and aft.
+I hadn’t known Price before, but we became friends—not close friends,
+but as intimate as most men who are cooped up together for months on
+the same ship.
+
+“In February ’17, as we were coming into the Bay on our way from South
+Africa, we sighted a submarine. I needn’t worry you with the details
+of what followed. It’s enough to say that we tried to escape, and
+failing, showed fight. As it chanced, by a stroke of the devil’s own
+luck we pumped a shell into her just abaft the conning tower after she
+rose and before she could get her gun trained on us. She heeled over
+and began to sink by the stern. I confess that I’d have watched those
+devils drown, as they had done many of our poor fellows, but the old
+man wasn’t that way inclined and he called for volunteers to get out
+one of the boats. Price was the first man to offer, and they got a
+boat lowered away and pulled for the submarine. She disappeared before
+they could get up to her, and we could see her crew clinging to
+wreckage. The men in the boat pulled all out to get there before they
+were washed away, for there was a bit of a sea running, the end of a
+southwester that had just blown itself out. Well, some of the crew
+held on and they got them into the boat; others couldn’t stick it and
+were lost. The captain was there clinging on to a lifebelt, but just
+as the boat came up he let go and was sinking, when Arnold Price
+jumped overboard and caught him and supported him until they got a
+rope round him and pulled him aboard. I didn’t see that myself, but I
+heard about it afterwards. The captain’s name was Otto Schulz, and
+when they got him aboard the _Maurania_ and fixed up in bed they found
+that he had had a knock on the head that would probably do for him.
+But all the same Price had saved his life, and what was more, had
+saved it at the risk of his own. That is the first point in my story.”
+
+Dangle paused and drew at his cigar. As he had foretold, Cheyne was
+already interested. The story appealed to him, for he knew that for
+once he was not being told a yarn. He had already heard of the rescue;
+in fact he had himself congratulated Price on his brave deed. He
+remembered a curious point about it. A day or two later Price had been
+hit in an encounter with another U-boat, and he and Schulz had been
+sent to the same hospital—somewhere on the French coast. There Schulz
+had died, and from there Price had sent the mysterious tracing which
+had been the cause of all these unwonted activities.
+
+“We crossed the Bay without further adventures,” Dangle resumed, “but
+as we approached the Channel we sighted another U-boat. We exchanged a
+few shots without doing a great deal of harm on either side, and when
+a destroyer came on the scene Brother Fritz submerged and disappeared.
+But as luck would have it one of his shells burst over our fo’c’sle.
+Both Price and I were there, I at my gun and he on some job of his
+own, and both of us got knocked out. Price had a scalp wound and I a
+bit of shell in my thigh; neither very serious, but both stretcher
+cases.
+
+“We called at Brest that night and next morning they sent us ashore to
+hospital. Schulz was sent with us. By what seems now a strange
+coincidence, but what was, I suppose, ordinary and natural enough, we
+were put into adjoining beds in the same ward. That is the second
+point of my story.”
+
+Again Dangle paused and again Cheyne reflected that so far he was
+being told the truth. He wondered with a growing thrill if he was
+really going to learn the contents of Price’s letter to himself and
+the meaning of the mysterious tracing, as well as the circumstances
+under which it was sent. He nodded to show he had grasped the point
+and Dangle went on:
+
+“Price and I soon began to improve, but the blow on Schulz’s head
+turned out pretty bad and he grew weaker and weaker. At last he got to
+know he was going to peg out, as you will see from what I overheard.
+
+“I was lying that night in a sort of waking dream, half asleep and
+half conscious of my surroundings. The ward was very still. There were
+six of us there and I thought all the others were asleep. The night
+nurse had just had a look round and had gone out again. She had left
+the gas lit, but turned very low. Suddenly I heard Schulz, who was in
+the next bed, calling Price. He called him two or three times and then
+Price answered. ‘Look here, Price,’ Schulz said, ‘are those other
+blighters asleep?’ He talked as good English as you or me. Price said
+‘Yes,’ and then Schulz went on to talk.
+
+“Now, I don’t know if you’ll believe me, Mr. Cheyne, but though as a
+matter of fact, I overheard everything he said, I didn’t mean to
+listen. I was so tired and dreamy that I just didn’t think of telling
+him I was awake, and indeed if I had thought of it, I don’t believe I
+should have had the energy to move. You know how it is when you’re not
+well. Then when I did hear it was too late. I just couldn’t tell him
+that I had learned his secret.”
+
+As Dangle spoke there was a knock at the door and a waiter arrived
+with coffee. Dangle paid him, and without further comment poured some
+out for Cheyne and handed it across. Cheyne was by this time so
+interested in the tale that his resentment was forgotten, and he took
+the cup with a word of thanks.
+
+“Go on,” he added. “I’m interested in your story, as you said I should
+be.”
+
+“I thought you would,” Dangle answered with his ready smile. “Well,
+Schulz began by telling Price that he knew he wasn’t going to live.
+Then he went on to say that he felt it cruelly hard luck, because he
+had accidentally come on a secret which would have brought him an
+immense fortune. Now he couldn’t use it. He had been going to let it
+die with him, but he remembered what he owed to Price and had decided
+to hand over the information to him. ‘But,’ he said, ‘there is one
+condition. You must first swear to me on your sacred honor that if you
+make anything out of it you will, after the war, try to find my wife
+and hand her one-eighth of what you get. I say one-eighth, because if
+you get any profits at all they will be so enormous that one-eighth
+will be riches to Magda.’
+
+“I could see that Price thought he was delirious, but to quiet him he
+swore the oath and then Schulz told of his discovery. He said that
+before he had been given charge of the U-boat he had served for over
+six months in the Submarine Research Department, and that there, while
+carrying out certain experiments, he had had a lucky accident. Some
+substances which he had fused in an electric furnace had suddenly
+partially vaporized and, as it were, boiled over. The white-hot mass
+poured over the copper terminals of his furnace, with the result that
+the extremely high voltage current short-circuited with a corona of
+brilliant sparks. He described the affair in greater detail than this,
+but I am not an electrician and I didn’t follow the technicalities.
+But they don’t matter, it was the result that was important. When the
+current was cut off and the mass cooled he started in to clean up. He
+chipped the stuff off the terminals, and he found that the copper had
+fused and run. And then he made his great discovery: the copper had
+hardened. He tested it and found it was, roughly speaking, as hard as
+high carbon steel and with an even greater tensile strength!
+Unintentionally he had made a new and unknown alloy. Schulz knew that
+the ancients were able to harden copper and he supposed that he had
+found the lost art.
+
+“At once he saw the extraordinary value of this discovery. If you
+could use copper instead of steel you would revolutionize the
+construction of electrical machinery; copper conduits could be lighter
+and be self-supporting—in scores of ways the new metal would be worth
+nearly its weight in gold. He could not work at the thing by himself,
+so he told his immediate superior, who happened also to be a close
+personal friend. The two tried some more experiments, and to make a
+long story short, they discovered that if certain percentages of
+certain minerals were added to the copper during smelting, it became
+hard. The minerals were cheap and plentiful, so that practically the
+new metal could be produced at the old price. This meant, for example,
+that they could make parts of machines of the new alloy, which would
+weigh—and therefore cost—only about one-quarter of those of ordinary
+copper. If they sold these at half or even three-quarters of the old
+price they would make an extremely handsome profit. But their idea was
+not to do this, but to sell their discovery to Krupps or some other
+great firm who, they believed, would pay a million sterling or more
+for it.
+
+“But they knew that they could not do anything with it until after the
+war unless they were prepared to hand it over to the military
+authorities for whatever these chose to pay, which would probably be
+nothing. While they were still considering their course of action both
+were ordered back to sea. Schulz’s friend was killed almost
+immediately, Schulz being then the only living possessor of the
+secret. Panic-stricken lest he too should be killed, he prepared a
+cipher giving the whole process, and this he sealed in a watertight
+cover and wore it continuously beneath his clothes. He now proposed to
+give it to Price, partly in return for what Price had done, and partly
+in the hope of his wife eventually benefiting. I saw him hand over a
+small package, and then I got the disappointment of my life, and so,
+I’m sure, did Price. Schulz was obviously growing weaker and he now
+spoke with great difficulty. But he made a final effort to go on; ‘The
+key to the cipher—’ he began and just then the sister came back into
+the room. Schulz stopped, but before she left he got a weak turn and
+fell back unconscious. He never spoke again and next day he was dead.”
+
+In his absorption Dangle had let his cigar go out, and now he paused
+to relight it. Cheyne sat, devouring the story with eager interest. He
+did not for a moment doubt it. It covered too accurately the facts
+which he already knew. He was keenly curious to hear its end: whether
+Dangle, having obtained the cipher, had read it, and what was the
+nature of the proposal the man was about to make.
+
+“Next day I approached Price on the matter. I said I had involuntarily
+overheard what Schulz had told him, and as the affair was so huge,
+asked him to take me into it with him. As a matter of fact I thought
+then, and think now, that the job was too big for one person to
+handle. However, Price cut up rough about it: wouldn’t have me as a
+partner on any terms and accused me of eavesdropping. I told him to go
+to hell and we parted on bad terms. I found out—I may as well admit by
+looking through the letters in his cabin while he was on duty—that he
+had sent the packet to you, and when I had made inquiries about you I
+was able to guess his motive. You, humanly speaking, were a safe life;
+you were invalided out of the service. He would send the secret to you
+to keep for him till after the war or to use as you thought best if he
+were knocked out.
+
+“You will understand, Mr. Cheyne, that though keenly interested in the
+whole affair, while I was in the service I couldn’t make any move in
+it. But directly I was demobbed I began to make inquiries. I found you
+were living at Dartmouth, and it was evident from your way of life
+that you hadn’t exploited the secret. Then I found out about Price,
+learned that he was on one of the Bombay-Basrah troopships and that
+though he had applied to be demobbed there were official delays. The
+next thing I heard about him was that he had disappeared. You knew
+that?” Dangle seemed to have been expecting the other to show
+surprise.
+
+“Yes, I knew it. I learned it at the same time that I learned St. John
+Price was a myth.”
+
+“Well, it’s quite true. He left his ship at Bombay on a few days’
+leave to pay a visit up country and was never heard of again.
+Presumably he is dead. And now, Mr. Cheyne,” Dangle shifted uneasily
+in his seat and glanced deprecatingly at the other, “now I come to a
+part of my story which I should be glad to omit. But I must tell you
+everything so that you may be in a position to decide on the proposal
+I’m going to make. At the time I was financially in very low water. My
+job had not been kept for me and I couldn’t get another. I was pretty
+badly hit, and worse still, I had taken to gambling in the desperate
+hope of getting some ready money. One night I had been treated on an
+empty stomach, and being upset from the drink, I plunged more than all
+my remaining capital. I lost, and then I was down and out, owing
+fairly large sums to two men—Blessington and Sime. In despair I told
+them of Schulz’s discovery. They leaped at it and said that if my
+sister Susan and myself would join in an attempt to get hold of the
+secret they would not only cancel the debts, but would offer us a
+square deal and share and share alike. Well, I shouldn’t have agreed,
+of course, but—well, I did. It was naturally the pressure they brought
+to bear that made me do it, but it was also partly due to my
+resentment at the way Price had turned me down. We thought that as far
+as you were concerned, you were probably expecting nothing and would
+therefore suffer no disappointment, and we agreed unanimously to send
+both Frau Schulz and Mrs. Price equal shares with ourselves. I don’t
+pretend any of us were right, Mr. Cheyne, but that’s what happened.”
+
+“I can understand it very well,” said Cheyne. He was always generous
+to a fault and this frank avowal had mollified his wrath. “But you
+haven’t told me if you read the cipher.”
+
+“I’m coming to that,” Dangle returned. “We laid our plans for getting
+hold of the package and with some forged references Susan got a job as
+servant in your house. She told us that so far as she could see the
+package would either be about your person or in your safe, and as she
+couldn’t ascertain the point we laid our plans to find out. As you
+know, they drew blank, and then we devised the plant on the _Enid_.
+That worked, but you nearly turned the tables on us in Hopefield
+Avenue. How you traced us I can’t imagine, and I hope later on you’ll
+tell me. That night we didn’t know whether we had killed you or not.
+We didn’t want to and hadn’t meant to, but we might easily have done
+so. When your body was not found in the morning we became panicky and
+cleared out. Then there came your attempt of last night. But for an
+accident it would have succeeded. Now we have come to the conclusion
+that you are too clever and determined to have you for an enemy. We
+are accordingly faced with an alternative. Either we must murder you
+and Miss Merrill or we must get you on to our side. The first we all
+shrink from, though”—and here Dangle’s eye showed a nasty gleam—“if it
+was that or our failure we shouldn’t hesitate, but the second is what
+we should all prefer. In short, Mr. Cheyne, will you and Miss Merrill
+join us in trading Schulz’s secret: all, including Frau Schulz and
+Mrs. Price, to share equally? We think that’s a fair offer and we
+extremely hope you won’t turn us down.”
+
+“You haven’t told me if you’ve read the cipher.”
+
+“I forgot that. I’m sorry to say that we have not, and that’s another
+reason we want you and Miss Merrill. We want two fresh brains on it.
+But the covering letter shows that the secret is in the cipher and it
+must be possible to read it.”
+
+Cheyne did not reply as he sat considering this unexpected move. If he
+were satisfied as to Arnold Price’s death and if the quartet had been
+trustworthy he would not have hesitated. Frau Schulz would get her
+eighth and Mrs. Price would get a quite unexpected windfall. Moreover,
+the people who worked the invention were entitled to some return for
+their trouble. No, the proposal was reasonable; in fact it was too
+reasonable. It was more reasonable than he would have expected from
+people who had already acted as these four had done. He found it
+impossible to trust in their _bona fides_. He would like to have Joan
+Merrill’s views before replying. He therefore temporized.
+
+“Your proposal is certainly attractive,” he said, “but before coming
+to a conclusion Miss Merrill must be consulted. She would be a party
+to it, same as myself. Suppose we go out and see her now, and then I
+will give you my answer.”
+
+Dangle’s face took on a graver expression.
+
+“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” he answered slowly. “You see, there is
+more in it than I have told you, though I hoped to avoid this side of
+it. Please put yourself in our place. I come to you with this offer. I
+don’t know whether you will accept it or turn it down. If you turn it
+down there is nothing to prevent you, with the information I have just
+given you, going to the police and claiming the whole secret and
+prosecuting us. Whether you would be likely to win your case wouldn’t
+matter. You might, and that would be too big a risk for us. We have
+therefore in self-defense had to take precautions. And the precautions
+we have taken are these. Earlswood has been evacuated. Just as we left
+Hopefield Avenue so we have left Dalton Road. Our party—and Miss
+Merrill”—he slightly stressed the “and” and in his voice Cheyne sensed
+a veiled threat—“have taken up their quarters at another house some
+distance from town. In self-defense we must have your acceptance
+_before_ further negotiations take place. You must see this for
+yourself.”
+
+“And if I refuse?”
+
+Dangle lowered his voice and spoke very earnestly.
+
+“Mr. Cheyne, if you refuse you will never see Miss Merrill alive!”
+
+
+
+Chapter XII
+
+In the Enemy’s Lair
+
+With some difficulty Cheyne overcame a sudden urge to leap at his
+companion’s throat.
+
+“You infernal scoundrel!” he cried thickly. “Injure a hair of Miss
+Merrill’s head and you and your confounded friends will hang! I’ll go
+to Scotland Yard. Do you think I mind about myself?”
+
+Dangle gave a cheery smile.
+
+“Right, Mr. Cheyne,” he answered Lid “by all means. Just do go to
+Scotland Yard and make your complaint. And what are you going to tell
+them? That Miss Merrill is in the hands of a dangerous gang of
+ruffians, and must be rescued immediately? And the present address of
+this gang is—?” He looked quizzically at the other. “I don’t think so.
+I’m afraid Scotland Yard would be too slow for you. You see, my
+friends are waiting for a telephone message from me. If that is not
+received or if it is unsatisfactory—well, don’t let us discuss
+unpleasant topics, but Miss Merrill will be very, very sorry.”
+
+Cheyne choked with rage, but for the moment he found himself unable to
+reply. That he was being bluffed he had no doubt, and in any other
+circumstances he would have taken a stronger line. But where Joan
+Merrill was concerned he could run no risks. It was evident that she
+really was in the power of the gang. Dangle could not possibly have
+known about the throwing of the tracing over the wall unless he really
+had found her as he had described.
+
+A very short cogitation convinced Cheyne that these people had him in
+their toils. Application to Scotland Yard would be useless. No doubt
+the police could find the conspirators, but they could not find them
+in time. So far as retaliation or a constructive policy was concerned,
+he saw that he was down and out.
+
+His thoughts turned to the proposal Dangle had made him. It was
+certainly fair—too fair, he still thought—but if it was a genuine
+offer, he need have no qualms about accepting it. Frau Schulz, Mrs.
+Price, Joan and himself were all promised shares of the profits. A
+clause could be put in covering Price, if he afterwards turned out to
+be alive. The gang might be a crowd of sharpers and thieves—so at
+least the melancholy Speedwell had said—but, as Cheyne came to look at
+it, they had not really broken the law to a much greater extent than
+he had himself. His case to the authorities—suppose he were to lay it
+before them—would not be so overwhelmingly clear. Something could be
+said for—or rather against—both sides.
+
+If he had to give way he might as well give way with a good grace. He
+therefore choked down his rage, and turning to Dangle, said quietly:
+
+“I see you’ve won this trick. I’ll accept your offer and go with you.”
+
+Dangle, evidently delighted, sprang to his feet.
+
+“Splendid, Mr. Cheyne,” he cried warmly, holding out his hand. “Shake
+hands, won’t you? You’ll not repent your action, I promise you.”
+
+But this was too much for Cheyne.
+
+“No,” he declared. “Not yet. You haven’t satisfied me of your _bona
+fides_. I’m sorry, but you have only yourselves to thank. When I find
+Miss Merrill at liberty and see Schulz’s cipher, I’ll be satisfied,
+and then I will join with you and give you all the help I can.”
+
+Dangle seemed rather dashed, but he laughed shortly as he answered: “I
+suppose we deserve that after all. But you will soon be convinced.
+There is just a formality to be gone through before we start. Though
+you may not believe my word, we believe yours, and we have agreed that
+all that we want before taking you further into our confidence, is
+that you swear an oath of loyalty to us. You won’t object to that, I
+presume?”
+
+Cheyne hesitated, then he said:
+
+“I swear on my sacred honor that I will loyally abide by the spirit of
+the agreement which you have outlined in so far as you and your
+friends act loyally to me and to Miss Merrill, and to that extent
+only.”
+
+“That’s reasonable, and good enough,” Dangle commented. “Now, if
+you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and phone to the others. You will
+understand,” he explained on his return, “that my friends are some
+distance away from Wembley, and it will therefore take them a little
+time to get in. If they start now they will be there as soon as we
+are.”
+
+It was getting towards ten o’clock when Cheyne and Dangle turned into
+the gateway of Earlswood. A yellow car stood at the footpath, at sight
+of which Dangle exclaimed: “See, they’ve arrived.” His ring brought
+Blessington to the door, and the latter greeted Cheyne apologetically,
+but with the same charm of manner that he had displayed in the
+Edgecombe Hotel at Plymouth.
+
+“I do hope, Mr. Cheyne,” he declared, “that even after all that has
+passed, we may yet be friends. We admire the way you have fought your
+corner, and we feel that what we both up to the present have failed to
+do may well be accomplished if we unite our forces. Come in and see if
+you can make friends with Sime.”
+
+“I came to see Miss Merrill,” Cheyne answered shortly. “If Miss
+Merrill is not produced and allowed to go without restraint our
+agreement is _non est_.”
+
+“Naturally,” Blessington returned smoothly. “We understand that that
+is a _sine qua non_. And so Miss Merrill will be produced. She is not
+here; she is at our house in the country in charge of Miss Dangle, and
+that for two reasons. The first is this. She met with, as doubtless
+you know, a trifling accident last night, and her ankle being a little
+painful, she was kept awake for some time. This morning when we left
+she was still asleep. We did not therefore disturb her. That you will
+appreciate, Mr. Cheyne, and the other reason you will appreciate
+equally. We had to satisfy ourselves by a personal interview that you
+really meant to give us a square deal.” He raised his hand as Cheyne
+would have spoken. “There’s nothing in that to which you need take
+exception. It is an ordinary business precaution—nothing more or
+less.”
+
+“And when will Miss Merrill be set at liberty?”
+
+“While I don’t admit the justice of the phrase, I may say that as soon
+as we have all mutually pledged ourselves to play the game I will take
+the car back to the other house, and when Miss Merrill has taken the
+same oath will drive her to her studio. Perhaps you would write her a
+note that you have sworn it, as she mightn’t believe me. There are a
+few preliminaries to be arranged with Dangle and Sime can fix up with
+you. If you are at the studio at midday you will be in time to welcome
+Miss Merrill.”
+
+This did not meet with Cheyne’s approval. He wished to go himself to
+the mysterious house with Blessington, but the latter politely but
+firmly conveyed to him that he had not yet irrevocably committed
+himself on their side, and until he had done so they could not give
+away their best chance of escape should the police become interested
+in their movements. Cheyne argued with some bitterness, but the other
+side held the trumps, and he was obliged to give way.
+
+This point settled, nothing could have exceeded the easy friendliness
+of the trio. If Arnold Price were alive he would share equally with
+the rest. Would Mr. Cheyne come to the study while the formalities
+were got through? Did he consider this oath—typewritten—would meet the
+case? Well, they would take it first, binding themselves individually
+to each other and to him. Each of the three swore loyalty to the
+remaining quintet, the oaths of Joan Merrill and Susan being assumed
+for the moment. Then Cheyne swore and they all solemnly shook hands.
+
+“Now that’s done, Mr. Cheyne, we’ll prove our confidence in you by
+showing you the cipher. But first perhaps you would write to Miss
+Merrill. Also if any point is not quite clear to you please do not
+hesitate to question us.”
+
+Cheyne was by no means enamored of the way things had turned out. He
+had been forced into an association with men with whom he had little
+in common and whom he did not trust. Had it not been for the trump
+card they held in the person of Joan Merrill nothing would have
+induced him to throw in his lot with them. But now, contingent on
+their good faith to him, he had pledged his word, and though he was
+not sure how far an enforced pledge was binding, he felt that as long
+as they kept their part of the bargain, he must keep his. He therefore
+wrote his letter, and then turning to Blessington, answered him
+civilly:
+
+“There is one thing I should like to know; I have thought about it
+many times. How did you drug me in that hotel in Plymouth without my
+knowledge and without leaving any traces in the food?”
+
+Blessington smiled.
+
+“I’ll tell you that with pleasure, Mr. Cheyne,” he answered readily,
+“but I confess I am surprised that a man of your acumen was puzzled by
+it. It depended upon prearrangement, and given that, was perfectly
+simple. I provided myself with the drug—if you don’t mind I won’t say
+how, as I might get someone else into trouble—but I got a small phial
+of it. I also took two other small bottles, one full of clean water,
+the other empty, together with a small cloth. Also I took my Extra
+Special Flask. Sime, like a good fellow, get my flask out of the
+drawer of my wrecked escritoire.” He smiled ruefully at Cheyne. “Then
+I prepared for our lunch: the private room, the menu and all complete.
+I told them at the hotel we had some business to arrange, and that we
+didn’t want to be disturbed after lunch. You know, of course, that I
+got all details of your movements from Miss Dangle?”
+
+“Yes, I understand that.”
+
+As Cheyne spoke Sime re-entered the room, putting down on the table
+the flask which had figured in the scene at the hotel. Blessington
+handed it to Cheyne.
+
+“Examine that flask, Mr. Cheyne,” he invited. “Do you see anything
+remarkable about it?”
+
+It seemed an ordinary silver pocket flask, square and flat, and with a
+screw-down silver stopper. It was chased on both sides with a plain
+but rather pleasing design, and the base was flat so that it would
+stand securely. But Cheyne could see nothing about it in any way
+unusual.
+
+“Open it,” Blessington suggested.
+
+Cheyne unscrewed the stopper and looked down the neck, but except that
+there was a curious projection at one side, which reduced the passage
+down to half the usual size, it seemed as other flasks. Blessington
+laughed.
+
+[Illustration: Two diagrams of a flask, divided down the middle and
+containing liquids in both parts. In the second diagram, the flask is
+tipped, and liquid pours from the right half only.]
+
+“Look here,” he said, and seizing a scrap of paper, he drew the two
+sketches which I reproduce. “The flask is divided down the middle by a
+diaphragm _C_, so as to form two chambers, _A_ and _B_. In these
+chambers are put two liquids, of which one is drugged and the other
+isn’t. _E_ and _F_ are two half diaphragms, and _D_ is a very light
+and delicately fitted flap valve which will close the passage to
+either chamber. When you invert the flask, the liquid in the upper or
+_B_ chamber runs out along diaphragm _C_, and its weight turns over
+valve D so that the passage to _A_ chamber is closed. The liquid from
+_B_ then pours out in the ordinary way. The liquid in _A_, however,
+cannot escape, because it is caught by the diaphragm _F_. If you want
+to pour out the liquid from _A_ you simply turn the flask upside down,
+when the conditions as to the two liquids are reversed. You probably
+didn’t notice that I used the flask in this way at our lunch. You may
+remember that I poured out your liqueur first—it was drugged, of
+course. Then I got a convenient fit of coughing. That gave me an
+excuse to set down the flask and pick it up again, but when I picked
+it up I was careful to do so by the other side, so that undrugged
+liqueur poured into my own cup. I drank my coffee at once to reassure
+you. Simple, wasn’t it?”
+
+“More than simple,” Cheyne answered with unwilling admiration in his
+tone. “A dangerous toy, but I admit, deuced ingenious. But I don’t
+follow even yet. That would have left the drugged remains in the cup.”
+
+“Quite so, but you have forgotten my other two bottles and my cloth. I
+poured the dregs from your cup into the empty bottle, washed the cup
+with water from the other, wiped it with my cloth, poured out another
+cup of coffee and drank it, leaving harmless grounds for any
+inquisitive analyst to experiment with.”
+
+“By Jove!” said Cheyne, then adding regretfully: “If we had only tried
+the handle of the cup for fingerprints!”
+
+“I put gloves on after you went over.”
+
+Cheyne smiled.
+
+“You deserved to succeed,” he admitted ruefully.
+
+“I succeeded in drugging you,” Blessington answered, “but I did not
+succeed in getting what I wanted. Now, Mr. Cheyne, you would like to
+see the tracing. Show it to him, Dangle, while I go back to the other
+house for Miss Merrill.”
+
+Dangle left the room, returning presently with the blue-gray sheet
+which had been the pivot upon which all the strange adventures of the
+little company had turned. Cheyne saw at a glance it was the tracing
+which he had secured in the upper room in the house in Hopefield
+Avenue. There in the corners were the holes made by the drawing-pins
+which had fixed it to the door while it was being photographed. There
+were the irregularly spaced circles, with their letters and numbers,
+and there, written clockwise in a large circle, the words: “England
+expects every man to do his duty.” Cheyne gazed at it with interest,
+while Dangle and Sime sat watching him. What on earth could it mean?
+He pondered awhile, then turned to his companions.
+
+“Have you not been able to read any of it?” he queried.
+
+Dangle shook his head.
+
+“Not so much as a single word—not a letter even!” he declared. “I tell
+you, Mr. Cheyne, it’s a regular sneezer! I wouldn’t like to say how
+many hours we’ve spent—all of us—working at it. And I don’t think
+there’s a book on ciphers in the whole of London that we haven’t read.
+And not a glimmer of light from any of them! Blessington had a theory
+that each of these circles was intended to represent one or more
+atoms, according to the number it contained, and that certain circles
+could be grouped to make molecules of the various substances that were
+to be mixed with the copper. I never could quite understand his idea,
+but in any case all our work hasn’t helped us to find them. The truth
+is that we’re stale. We want a fresh brain on it, and particularly a
+woman’s brain. Sometimes a woman’s intuition will lead her to a lucky
+guess. We hope it may in this case.”
+
+He paused, then went on again: “Another thing we tried was this.
+Suppose that by some system of numerical substitution each of these
+numbers represents a letter. Then groups of these letters together
+with the letters already in the circles should represent words. Of
+course it is difficult to group them, though we tried again and again.
+At first the idea seemed promising, but we could make nothing of it.
+We couldn’t find any system either of substitution or of grouping
+which would give a glimmering of sense. No, we’re up against it and no
+mistake, and when we think of the issues involved we go nearly mad
+from exasperation. Take the thing, Mr. Cheyne, and see what you and
+Miss Merrill can do. That is the original, but I have made a tracing
+of it, so that we can continue our work simultaneously.”
+
+Cheyne felt himself extraordinarily thrilled by this recital, and the
+more he examined the mysterious markings on the sheet the more
+interested he grew. He had always had a _penchant_ for puzzles, and
+ciphers appealed to him as being perhaps the most alluring kind of
+puzzles extant. Particularly did this cipher attract him because of
+the circumstances under which it had been brought to his notice. He
+longed to get to grips with it, and he looked forward with keen
+delight to a long afternoon and evening over it with Joan Merrill,
+whose interest in it would, he felt sure, be no whit less than his
+own.
+
+Certainly, he thought, his former enemies had made a good beginning.
+So far they were playing the game, and he began to wonder if he had
+not to some extent misjudged them, and if the evil characters given
+them by the gloomy Speedwell were not tinged by that despondent
+individual’s jaundiced outlook on life in general.
+
+Dangle had left the room, and he now returned with a bottle of whisky
+and a box of cigars.
+
+“A drink and a cigar to cement our alliance, Mr. Cheyne,” he proposed,
+“and then I think our business will be done.”
+
+Cheyne hesitated, while a vision of the private room in the Edgecombe
+Hotel rose in his memory. Dangle read his thoughts, for he smiled and
+went on:
+
+“I see you don’t quite trust us yet, and I don’t know that I can blame
+you. But we really are all right this time. Examine these tumblers and
+then pour out the stuff yourself, and we’ll drink ours first. We must
+get you convinced of our goodwill.”
+
+Cheyne hesitated, but Dangle insisting, he demonstrated to his
+satisfaction that his companions drank the same mixture as himself.
+Then Dangle opened the cigar box.
+
+“These are specially good, though I say it myself. The box was given
+to Blessington by a rich West Indian planter. We only smoke them on
+state occasions, such as the present. Won’t you take one?”
+
+Cheyne felt it would be churlish to refuse, and soon the three were
+puffing such tobacco as Cheyne at all events had seldom before smoked.
+Sime then excused himself, explaining that though business might be
+neglected it could not be entirely ignored, and Cheyne, thereupon
+taking the hint, said that he too must be off.
+
+“Tomorrow we shall be kept late in town,” Dangle explained, as they
+stood on the doorstep, “but the next evening we shall be here. Will
+you and Miss Merrill come down and report progress, and let us have a
+council of war?”
+
+Cheyne agreed and was turning away, when Dangle made a sudden gesture.
+
+“By George! I was forgetting,” he cried. “Wait a second, Mr. Cheyne.”
+
+He disappeared back into the house, returning a moment later with a
+small purse, which he handed to Cheyne.
+
+“Do you happen to know if that is Miss Merrill’s?” he inquired. “It
+was found beside the chair in which we placed her last night when we
+carried her in.”
+
+Cheyne recognized the article at once. He had frequently seen Joan use
+it.
+
+“Yes, it’s hers,” he answered, to which Dangle replied asking if he
+would take it for her.
+
+Cheyne slipped the purse into his pocket, and next moment he was
+walking along Dalton Road towards the station, free, well, and with
+the tracing in his pocket. Until that moment, in the inner recesses of
+his consciousness doubt of the _bona fides_ of the trio had lingered.
+Until then the fear that he was to be the victim of some plausible
+trick had dwelt in his heart. But now at last he was convinced. Had
+the men desired to harm him they had had a perfect opportunity. He had
+been for the last hour entirely in their power. No one knew where he
+had gone, and they could with the greatest ease have murdered him, and
+either hidden his body about the house or garden or removed it in the
+car during the night. Yes, this time he believed their story. It was
+eminently reasonable, and as a matter of fact, it had been pretty well
+proved by their actions, as well as by the facts that he had learned
+at the Admiralty and elsewhere. They were at a standstill because they
+couldn’t read the cipher, and they really did want, as they said, the
+help of his and Joan’s fresh brains. From their point of view they had
+done a wise thing in thus approaching him—indeed, a masterly thing.
+Cheyne was not conceited and he did not consider his own mental powers
+phenomenal, but he knew he was good at puzzles, and at the very least,
+he and Joan were of average intelligence. Moreover, they were the only
+other persons who knew of the cipher, and it was the soundest strategy
+to turn their antagonism into cooperation.
+
+He reached North Wembley to find a train about to start for Town, and
+some half hour later he was walking up the platform at Euston. He
+looked at his watch. It was barely eleven. An hour would elapse before
+Joan would reach her rooms, and that meant that he had more than half
+an hour to while away before going to meet her. It occurred to him
+that in his excitement he had forgotten to breakfast, and though he
+was not hungry, he thought another cup of coffee would not be
+unacceptable. Moreover, he could at the same time have a look over the
+cipher. He therefore went to the refreshment room, gave his order, and
+sat down at a table in a secluded corner. Then drawing the mysterious
+sheet from his pocket, he began to examine it.
+
+As he leaned forward over his coffee he felt Joan’s purse in his
+pocket, and suddenly fearful lest in his eagerness to tell her his
+experiences he should forget to give it to her, he took it out and
+laid it on the table, intending to carry it in his hand until he met
+her. Then he returned to his study of the tracing.
+
+There are those who tell us that in this world there are no trifles:
+that every event, however unimportant it may appear, is preordained
+and weighty as every other. On this bright spring morning in the first
+class refreshment room at Euston, Cheyne was to meet with a
+demonstration of the truth of this assertion which left him marveling
+and humbly thankful. For there took place what seemed to be a trifling
+thing, and yet that trifle proved to be the most important event that
+had ever taken place, or was to take place, in his life.
+
+When he took his first sip of coffee he found that he had forgotten to
+put sugar in it, and when he looked at the sugar bowl he saw that by
+the merest chance it was empty. An empty sugar bowl. A trifle that, if
+ever there was one! And yet nothing of more supreme moment had ever
+happened to Cheyne than the finding of that empty bowl on his table at
+that moment.
+
+The sugar bowl, then, being empty, he picked it up with his free hand
+and carried it across to the counter to ask the barmaid to fill it.
+Scarcely had he done so when there came from behind him an appalling
+explosion. There was a reverberating crash mingled with the tinkle of
+falling glass, while a sharp blast of air swept past him, laden with
+the pungent smell of some burned chemical. He wheeled round, the
+shrill screams of the barmaids in his ears, to see the corner of the
+room where he had been sitting, in complete wreckage. Through a fog of
+smoke and dust he saw that his table and chair were nonexistent,
+neighboring tables and chairs were overturned, the window was gone,
+hat-racks, pictures, wall advertisements were heaped in broken and
+torn confusion, while over all was spread a coat of plaster which had
+been torn from the wall. On the floor lay a man who had been seated at
+an adjoining table, the only other occupant of that part of the room.
+
+For a moment no one moved, and then there came a rush of feet from
+without, and a number of persons burst into the room. Porters, ticket
+collectors, a guard, and several members of the public came crowding
+in, staring with round eyes and open mouths at the debris. Eager hands
+helped to raise the prostrate man, who appeared to be more or less
+seriously injured, while hurried questions were bandied from lip to
+lip.
+
+It did not need the barmaid’s half hysterical cry: “Why, it was your
+purse; I saw it go,” to make clear to Cheyne what had happened, and as
+he grasped the situation his heart melted within him and a great fear
+took possession of his mind. Once again these dastardly scoundrels had
+hoaxed him! Their oaths, their protestations of friendship, their talk
+of an alliance—all were a sham! They were out to murder him. The purse
+they had evidently stolen from Joan, filling it with explosives, with
+some time agent—probably chemical—to make it go off at the proper
+moment. They had given it to him under conditions which made it a
+practical certainty that at that moment it would be in his pocket,
+when he would be blown to pieces without leaving any clue as to the
+agency which had wrought his destruction. He suddenly felt sick as he
+thought of the whole hideous business.
+
+But it was not contemplation of the fate he had so narrowly escaped
+that sent his heart leaping into his throat in deadly panic. If these
+unspeakable ruffians had tried to murder him with their hellish
+explosives, what about Joan Merrill? All the talk about driving her
+back to her rooms must have been mere eyewash. She must be in deadly
+peril—if it was not too late: if she was not already—Merciful Heaven,
+he could not frame the thought!—if she was not already _dead_! He
+burst into a cold sweat, as the idea burned itself into his
+consciousness. And then suddenly he knew the reason. He loved her! He
+loved this girl who had saved his life and who had already proved
+herself such a splendid comrade and helpmeet. His own life, the
+wretched secret, the miserable pursuit of wealth, victory over the
+gang—what were these worth? They were forgotten—they were nothing—they
+were less than nothing! It was Joan and Joan’s safety that filled his
+mind. “Oh, God,” he murmured in an agony, “save her, save her! No
+matter about anything else, only save her!”
+
+He stood, leaning against the counter, overcome with these thoughts.
+Then the need for immediate action brought him to his senses. Perhaps
+it was not too late. Perhaps something might yet be done. Scotland
+Yard! That was his only hope. Instantly he must go to Scotland Yard
+and implore the help of the authorities.
+
+He glanced round. Persons in authority were entering and pushing to
+the front of the now dense crowd. That surely was the stationmaster,
+and there was a policeman. Cheyne did not want to be detained to
+answer questions. He slipped rapidly into the throng, and by making
+way for those behind to press forward, soon found himself on its
+outskirts. In a few seconds he was on the platform and in a couple of
+minutes he was in a taxi driving towards Westminster as fast as a
+promise of double fare could take him.
+
+He raced into the great building on the Embankment and rather
+incoherently stated his business. He was asked to sit down, and after
+waiting what seemed to him interminable ages, but what was really
+something under five minutes, he was told that Inspector French would
+see him. Would he please come this way.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIII
+
+Inspector French Takes Charge
+
+Cheyne was ushered into a small, plainly furnished room, in which at a
+table-desk was seated a rather stout, clean-shaven man with a
+cheerful, good humored face and the suggestion of a twinkle about his
+eye. He stood up as Cheyne entered, looked him over critically with a
+pair of very keen dark blue eyes, and then smiled.
+
+“Mr. Maxwell Cheyne?” he said genially. “I am Inspector French. You
+wish to consult us? Now just sit down there and tell me your trouble,
+and we’ll do what we can for you.”
+
+His manner was kindly and pleasant and did much to set Cheyne at his
+ease. The young man had been rather dreading his visit, expecting to
+be met with the harsh, incredulous, unsympathetic attitude of
+officialdom. But this inspector, with his easy manners, and his
+apparently human outlook, was quite different from his anticipation.
+He felt drawn to him and realized with relief that at least he would
+get a sympathetic hearing.
+
+“Thank you,” he said, trying to speak calmly. “It’s very good of you,
+I’m sure. I’m in great trouble—not about myself, that is, but about
+my—my friend, a lady, Miss Joan Merrill. I’m afraid she is in terrible
+danger, if indeed it is not too late.”
+
+“Tell me the details.” The man was all attention, and his quiet
+decisive manner induced confidence.
+
+Curbing his impatience, Cheyne related his adventures. In the briefest
+outline he told of the drugging in the Plymouth hotel, of the burglary
+at Warren Lodge, of his involuntary trip on the _Enid_, of his journey
+to London and his adventure in the house in Hopefield Avenue. Then he
+described Joan Merrill’s welcome intervention, his convalescence in
+the hospital, the compact between himself and Joan, his visit to
+Speedwell, and his burglary of Earlswood. He recounted Dangle’s
+appearance as an envoy, the meeting with the gang, and the explosion
+at Euston, and finally voiced the terrible suggestion which this
+latter contained as to the possible fate of Joan.
+
+Inspector French listened to his recital with an appearance of the
+keenest interest.
+
+“You have certainly had an unusual experience, Mr. Cheyne,” he
+remarked. “I don’t know that I can recall a similar case. Now I think
+we may take it that Miss Merrill’s safety is our first concern. We
+shall go out to this house, Earlswood, and see if we can learn
+anything about her there. The other activities of the gang must wait.
+Excuse me a moment.” He gave some orders through his desk telephone,
+resuming: “I should think the house has probably been vacated: these
+people would cover their traces until they learned from the papers
+that you had been killed. However, we’ll soon know that. Wait here
+until I arrange about warrants, and then we’ll start.”
+
+He disappeared for some minutes, while Cheyne fretted and chafed and
+tried to control his impatience. Then he returned, and slipping an
+automatic pistol into his pocket, invited Cheyne to follow him.
+
+He led the way downstairs and out into a courtyard in the great
+building. Two motorcars were just drawing up at the curb, while at the
+same moment no less than eight plain clothes men appeared from another
+door. The party having taken their places, the two vehicles slid out
+through a covered way into the traffic of the town.
+
+“We shall go round to Chelsea first,” French explained, “and make sure
+there is no news of Miss Merrill.”
+
+As they ran quickly through the busy streets, French asked a series of
+questions on points of Cheyne’s statement upon which he desired
+further information. “If this trip draws blank, as I fear it will,” he
+observed, “I shall want you to tell me your story again, this time
+with all the detail you can possibly put into it. For the moment
+there’s not time for that.”
+
+At Horne Terrace there was no trace or tidings of Joan. It was by this
+time half past twelve, half an hour after the time at which
+Blessington had promised she should be there, and Cheyne felt all his
+forebodings confirmed. But he was not surprised, feeling but the more
+eager to push on to Wembley.
+
+On the way French made him draw a sketch map of the position of
+Earlswood, and on nearing his goal he stopped the cars, and calling
+his men together, explained exactly what was to be done. Then telling
+Cheyne to sit with the driver and direct him to the front gate, they
+again mounted and went forward. At a good rate they swung into Dalton
+Road, and Cheyne pointing the way, his car stopped at the gate, while
+the other ran on down the cross-road to the lane at the back. The men
+sprang out, and in less time than it takes to tell, the house was
+surrounded.
+
+Cheyne followed French as he hurried up to the door and gave a
+thundering knock. There was no answer, and walking round the house,
+the two men examined the windows. These being all fastened, French
+turned his attention to the back door, and after two or three minutes’
+work with a bunch of skeleton keys the bolt shot back, and followed by
+Cheyne and two of his men, he entered the house.
+
+A short search revealed the fact that the birds had flown, hurriedly,
+it seemed, as everything had been left exactly as during Cheyne’s
+visit. On the table in the sitting room stood the glasses from which
+they had drunk their whisky, the box of cigars lay open beside them
+and the chairs were still drawn up to the table. But there was no sign
+of Sime or Dangle, and a hurried look round revealed no clue to their
+whereabouts.
+
+“I feared as much,” French commented, as he sent a constable to call
+in the men who were surrounding the house, “but we have still two
+strings to our bow.” He turned to the others, and rapidly gave his
+orders. “You, Hinckston and Tucker, remain here and arrest any one who
+enters this house. Simmons, go to Locke Street, off Southampton Row,
+and find Speedwell, of Horton & Lavender’s Detective Agency. You know
+him, don’t you? Well, find him and tell him this affair has developed
+into attempted murder and abduction, and ask him can he give any
+information to the Yard. Tell him I’m in charge. The rest of you come
+with me to—what did Speedwell give you as Sime’s address, Mr.
+Cheyne? . . . All right, I have it here—to 12 Colton Street, Putney.
+We shall carry out the same plan there, surround the house, and then
+enter and search it. All got that? Come along, Mr. Cheyne.”
+
+They hurried back to the cars and were soon running—somewhat over the
+legal speed—back to town. French, though he had shown energy enough at
+Earlswood, was willing to chat now in a pleasant, leisurely way,
+though he continued to interlard his remarks with questions on the
+details of Cheyne’s story. Then he took over the tracing, and examined
+it curiously. “I’ll have a go at this later,” he said, as he put it in
+his pocket, “but I can scarcely believe they would have given you the
+genuine article.”
+
+Cheyne would have questioned this opinion, reminding his companion he
+had seen the tracing pinned up to be photographed in the house in
+Hopefield Avenue, but just then they swung into Colton Street, and the
+time for conversation had passed. Contrary to his expectation they ran
+past No. 12 without slackening, turned down the first side street
+beyond it, and there came to a stand.
+
+“There’s the end of the passage behind the house,” French pointed when
+his men had dismounted. “Carter and Jones and Marshall go down there
+and watch the back. No doubt you counted and know it’s the eighth
+house. You other two men and you, Mr. Cheyne, come with me.”
+
+He turned back into Colton Street and with his three followers strode
+rapidly up to No. 12. It was like its neighbors, a small two-storied
+single terrace house of old-fashioned design. Indeed the narrow road,
+with its two grimy rows of almost working-class dwellings, seemed more
+like one of those terrible streets built in the last century in the
+slum districts of provincial towns, than a bit of mid-London.
+
+A peremptory knock from French producing no result, he had once more
+recourse to his skeleton keys. This door was easier to negotiate than
+the last, and in less than a minute it swung open and the four men
+entered the house.
+
+On the right of the hall was a tiny sitting room, and there they found
+the remains of what appeared to have been a hastily prepared meal.
+Four chairs were drawn up to the small central table, on which were
+part of a loaf, butter, an empty sardine tin, egg shells, two cups
+containing tea leaves and two glasses smelling of whisky. French put
+his hand on the teapot. “Feel that, Mr. Cheyne,” he exclaimed. “They
+can’t be far away.”
+
+The teapot was warm, and when Cheyne looked into the kitchen
+adjoining, he found that the kettle on the gas ring was also warm,
+though the ring itself had grown cold. If the four lunchers were
+Blessington and Co., as seemed indubitable, they must indeed be close
+by, and Cheyne grew hot with eager excitement as he thought that
+French and he might be within reasonable sight of their goal.
+
+Meanwhile French and his men had carried out a rapid search of the
+house, without result except to prove that once more the birds had
+flown. But as to the direction which their flight had taken there was
+no clue.
+
+“I don’t expect we’ll see them back,” French said to Cheyne, “but we
+must take no chances.” He turned to his men. “Jones and Marshall, stay
+here in the house and arrest any one who enters. You, Carter, make
+inquiries in these houses to the right, and you, Hobbs, do the same to
+the left. Come, Mr. Cheyne, you and I will try the other side of the
+street.”
+
+They crossed to the house opposite, and French knocked. The door was
+opened by a young woman who seemed thrilled by French’s statement that
+he was a police officer making inquiries about the occupiers of No.
+12, but who was unable to give him any useful information about them.
+A man lived there—she believed his name was Sime—but she did not know
+either himself or anything about him. No, she hadn’t seen any recent
+arrivals or departures. She had been engaged at the back of the house
+during the whole morning and had not looked out across the street.
+Yes, she believed Sime lived alone except for an elderly housekeeper.
+As far as she knew he was quite respectable, at least she had never
+heard anything against him.
+
+Politely thanking her, French tried the next house. Here he found a
+small girl who said she had looked out some half an hour previously
+and had seen a yellow motor standing before No. 12. But she had not
+seen it arrive or depart, nor anyone get in or out.
+
+French tried five houses without result, but at the sixth he had a
+stroke of luck.
+
+In this house it appeared that there was a chronic invalid, a sister
+of the woman who opened the door. This poor creature was confined
+permanently to bed, and in the hope of relieving the tedium of the
+days, she had had the bed drawn close to her window, so as to extract
+what amusement she could from the life of the street. If there had
+been any unusual happenings in front of No. 12, she would certainly
+have witnessed them. Yes, the woman was sure her sister would see the
+visitors.
+
+“Lucky chance, that,” French said, as they waited to know if they
+might go up. “If this woman’s eyes and brain are unaffected she’ll
+have become an accurate observer, and we’ll probably learn all there
+is to know.”
+
+In a moment the sister appeared beckoning, and going upstairs they
+found in a small front room a bed drawn up to the window, in which lay
+a superior looking elderly woman with a pale patient face, lined by
+suffering, in which shone a pair of large dark intelligent eyes. She
+was propped up the better to see out, and her face lighted up with
+interest at her unexpected callers, as she laid down among the books
+on the coverlet an intricate looking piece of fancy sewing.
+
+Inspector French bowed to her.
+
+“I’d like to say how much I appreciate your kindness in letting us
+come up, madam,” he said with his pleasant kindly smile, “but when you
+hear that we are trying to find a young lady who we fear has been
+kidnaped, I am sure you will be glad to help us. The matter is
+connected with No. 12 opposite. Can you tell me if any persons arrived
+or left it this morning?”
+
+“Oh, yes, I can,” the invalid replied in cultivated tones—a lady born,
+though fallen on evil days, thought Cheyne—“I like to watch the people
+passing and I did notice arrivals and departures at No. 12. About, let
+me see—half past eleven, or perhaps a minute or two later a motor
+drove up to No. 12, a yellow car, fair size and covered in. Three men
+got out and went into the house. One was Mr. Sime, who lives there,
+the others I didn’t know. Mr. Sime opened the door with his latch-key.
+In a couple of minutes one of the strangers came out again, got into
+the car, and drove off.”
+
+“That the car you saw outside Earlswood, Mr. Cheyne?” asked French.
+
+“Certain to be,” Cheyne nodded. “It was a yellow covered-in car of
+medium size, No. XL7305.”
+
+“I didn’t observe the number,” the lady remarked. “The bonnet was
+facing towards me.”
+
+“What was the driver like, madam?” queried Cheyne.
+
+“One of Mr. Sime’s companions drove. He was short and rather stout,
+with a round face, and what, I believe, is called a toothbrush
+mustache.”
+
+“That’s Blessington all right. And was the third man of medium height
+and build, with a clean-shaven, somewhat rugged face?”
+
+“Yes, that exactly describes him.”
+
+“And that’s Dangle. There’s no question about the party, Inspector.”
+
+“None. Then, madam, you saw—?”
+
+“That, as I said, was about half-past eleven. About half-past one the
+man you have called Blessington came back with the car. He got out,
+left it, and went into the house. In about a quarter of an hour he
+came out again and started his engine. Then the other two men
+followed, assisting a young lady who appeared to be very weak and ill.
+She seemed scarcely able to walk, and they almost carried her. Another
+girl followed, who drew the door of the house after her.”
+
+Cheyne started on hearing these words, and looked with an agonized
+expression at the Inspector. “What were they like, these women?” he
+breathed through his dry lips.
+
+But both men knew the answer. The girl assisted out by Sime and Dangle
+was undoubtedly Joan Merrill, and the other equally certainly was
+Susan Dangle.
+
+“She was lame—the one you thought ill?” Cheyne persisted. “She had
+twisted her ankle.”
+
+“Perhaps so,” the lady returned, “but I do not think so. She seemed to
+me to step equally well on each foot. It was more as if she was half
+asleep or very weak. Her head hung forward and she did not seem to
+notice where she was going.”
+
+Cheyne made a gesture of despair.
+
+“Heavens above!” he cried hoarsely. “What have they done to her?”
+
+“Drugged her,” French answered succinctly. “But you should take
+courage from that, Mr. Cheyne. It looks as if they didn’t mean to do
+her a personal injury. Yes, madam?”
+
+Before the invalid could speak Cheyne went on, a puzzled note in his
+voice.
+
+“But look here,” he said slowly, “I don’t understand this. You say
+that the sick lady was wearing a fur coat?”
+
+“Yes, a musquash fur.”
+
+“But—” He looked at French in perplexity. “Miss Merrill has a fur coat
+like that—I’ve seen it. But she wasn’t wearing it last night. Can it
+be someone else after all?” His voice took on a dawning eagerness.
+
+French shook his head.
+
+“Don’t build too much on that, Mr. Cheyne. They may have lent her a
+coat.”
+
+“Yes, but why should they? She had a coat last night, a perfectly warm
+coat of brown cloth. She wouldn’t want another.”
+
+“Perhaps her own got muddy when she fell. We’ll have to leave it at
+that for the moment. We’ll consider it later. Let’s get on now and
+hear what this lady can tell us. Yes, madam, if you please?”
+
+“I am afraid there is not much more to be told. All five got into the
+car and drove off.”
+
+“In which direction?”
+
+“Eastwards.”
+
+“That is to say, they have just left about half an hour. We were only
+fifteen minutes behind them, Mr. Cheyne.”
+
+He got up to go, but the lady motioned him back to his seat.
+
+“There is one other thing I have just remembered,” she said. “It may
+or may not have something to do with the affair. Last night—it must
+have been about half-past eleven—I heard a motor in the street. It
+stopped for about ten minutes, though the engine ran all the time,
+then went off again. I didn’t look out, but now that I come to think
+about it it sounded as if it might be standing at No. 12. Of course
+you understand that is only a guess, but motorcars are somewhat rare
+visitors to this street, and there may have been some connection.”
+
+“Extremely probable, I should think, madam,” French commented. He
+rose. “Now we must be off to act on what you have told us. I needn’t
+say that you have placed us very greatly in your debt.”
+
+“It was but little I could do,” the lady returned. “I do hope you may
+be able to help that poor girl. I should be so glad to hear that she
+is all right.”
+
+Cheyne was touched by this unexpected sympathy.
+
+“You may count on my letting you know, madam,” he said, and then
+thinking of the terribly monotonous existence led by the poor soul, he
+went on warmly: “I should like, if I might, to call and tell you all
+about it, but if I am prevented I shall certainly write. May I know
+what name to address to?”
+
+“Mrs. Sproule, 17 Colton Street. I should be glad to see you if you
+are in this district, but I couldn’t think of taking you out of your
+way.”
+
+A few moments later French had collected his three remaining men, and
+was being driven rapidly to the nearest telephone call office. There
+he rang up the Yard, repeated the descriptions of the car and of each
+of its occupants, and asked for the police force generally to be
+advised that they were wanted, particularly the men on duty at railway
+stations and wharves, not only in London, but in the surrounding
+country.
+
+“Now we’ll have a shot at picking up the trail ourselves,” he went on
+to Cheyne when he had sent his message. He re-entered the car, calling
+to the driver: “Get back and find the men on point duty round about
+Colton Street.”
+
+Of the four men they interviewed, three had not noticed the yellow
+car. The fourth, on a beat in the thoroughfare at the eastern end of
+Colton Street, had seen a car of the size and color in question going
+eastwards at about the hour the party had left No. 12. There seeming
+nothing abnormal about the vehicle, he had not specially observed it
+or noted the number, but he had looked at the driver, and the man he
+described resembled Blessington.
+
+“That’s probably it all right,” French commented, “but it doesn’t help
+us a great deal. If they were going to any of the stations or
+steamers, or to practically anywhere in town, this is the way they
+would pass. Let us try a step further.”
+
+Keeping in the same general direction they searched for other men on
+point duty, but though after a great deal of running backwards and
+forwards, they found all in the immediate neighborhood that the car
+would have been likely to pass, none of them had noticed it.
+
+“We’ve lost them, I’m afraid,” French said at last. “We had better go
+back to the Yard. As soon as that description gets out we may have
+news at any minute.”
+
+A quarter of an hour later they passed once more through the corridors
+of the great building which houses the C.I.D., and reached French’s
+room. There sitting waiting for them was the melancholy private
+detective, Speedwell. He rose as they entered.
+
+“Afternoon, Mr. French. Afternoon, Mr. Cheyne,” he said
+ingratiatingly, rubbing his hands together. “I got your message, Mr.
+French, and I thought I’d better call round. Of course I’ll tell you
+anything I can to help.”
+
+French beamed on him.
+
+“Now that was good of you, Speedwell; very good. I’ll not forget it.
+Did Simmons tell you what had happened?”
+
+“Not in detail—only that Blessington, Sime, and the Dangles were
+wanted.”
+
+“Well, Mr. Cheyne here and Miss Merrill were out there last night,” he
+shook his head reproachfully at Cheyne while a twinkle showed in his
+eyes, “and your friends got hold of Miss Merrill and we can’t find
+her. Mr. Cheyne they enticed into the house with a fair story. They
+led him to believe that Miss Merrill would be in her studio when he
+got back to town and gave him her purse, which they said she had
+dropped. It contained a time bomb, and only the merest chance saved
+Mr. Cheyne from being blown to bits. There are charges against the
+quartet of attempted murder of Mr. Cheyne, and of abduction of Miss
+Merrill. Can you help us at all?”
+
+Speedwell shook his head.
+
+“I doubt it, Mr. French, I doubt it, sir. I found out a little, not
+very much. But all the information I have is at your disposal.”
+
+Cheyne stared at him.
+
+“But how can that be?” he exclaimed. “You were in their confidence—to
+some extent at all events. Surely you got some hint of what they were
+after?”
+
+Speedwell made a deferential movement, and his smile became still more
+oily and ingratiating.
+
+“Now, Mr. Cheyne, sir, you mustn’t think too much of that. That was
+what we might call in the way of business.” He glanced sideways at
+Cheyne from his little foxy close-set eyes. “You can’t complain, sir,
+but what I answered your questions, and you’ll admit you got value for
+your money.”
+
+“I don’t understand you,” Cheyne returned sharply. “Do you mean that
+that tale you told me was a lie, and that you weren’t employed by
+these people to find the man who burgled their house?”
+
+Speedwell rubbed his hands together more vigorously.
+
+“A little business expedient, sir, merely an ordinary little business
+expedient. It would be a foolish man who would not display his wares
+to the best advantage. I’m sure, sir, you’ll agree with that.”
+
+Cheyne looked at him fiercely for a moment.
+
+“You infernal rogue!” he burst out hotly. “Then your tale to me was a
+tissue of lies, and on the strength of it you cheated me out of my
+money! Now you’ll hand that £150 back! Do you hear that?”
+
+Speedwell’s smile became the essence of craftiness.
+
+“Not so fast, sir, not so fast,” he purred. “There’s no need to use
+unpleasant language. You asked for a thing and agreed to pay a certain
+price. You got what you asked for, and you paid the price you agreed.
+There was no cheating there.”
+
+Cheyne was about to retort, but French, suave and courteous, broke in:
+
+“Well, we can talk of that afterwards. I think, Mr. Cheyne, that Mr.
+Speedwell has made us a satisfactory offer. He says he will tell us
+everything he knows. For my part I am obliged to him for that, as he
+is not bound to say anything at all. I think you will agree that we
+ought to thank him for the position he is taking up, and to hear what
+he has to say. Now, Speedwell, if you are ready. Take a cigar first,
+and make yourself comfortable.”
+
+“Thank you, Mr. French. I am always glad, as you know, sir, to assist
+the Yard or the police. I haven’t much to tell you, but here is the
+whole of it.”
+
+He lit his cigar, settled himself in his chair, and began to speak.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIV
+
+The Clue of the Clay-marked Shoe
+
+“You know, Mr. French,” said Speedwell, “about my being called in by
+the manager of the Edgecombe in Plymouth when Mr. Cheyne was drugged?
+Mr. Cheyne has told you about that, sir?” French nodded and the other
+went on: “Then I need only tell you what Mr. Cheyne presumably does
+not know. I may just explain before beginning that I came into contact
+with Mr. Jesse, the manager, over some diamonds which were lost by a
+visitor to the hotel and which I had the good fortune to recover.
+
+“The first point that struck me about Mr. Cheyne’s little affair was,
+How did the unknown man know Mr. Cheyne was going to lunch at that
+hotel on that day? I found out from Mr. Cheyne that he hadn’t
+mentioned his visit to Plymouth to anyone outside of his own
+household, and I found out from Mrs. and Miss Cheyne that they hadn’t
+either. But Miss Cheyne said it had been discussed at lunch, and that
+gave me the tip. If these statements were all O.K. it followed that
+the leakage must have been through the servants and I had a chat with
+both, just to see what they were like. The two were quite different.
+The cook was good-humored and stupid and easy going, and wouldn’t have
+the sense to run a conspiracy with anyone, but the parlormaid was an
+able young woman as well up as any I’ve met. So it looked as if it
+must be her.
+
+“Then I thought over the burglary, and it seemed to me that the
+burglars must have got inside help, and if so, there again Susan was
+the girl. Of course there was the tying up, but that would be the
+natural way to work a blind. I noticed that the cook’s wrists were
+swollen, but Susan’s weren’t marked at all, so I questioned the cook,
+and I got a bit of information out of her that pretty well proved the
+thing. She said she heard the burglars ring and heard Susan go to the
+door. But she said it was three or four minutes before Susan screamed.
+Now if Susan’s story was true she would have screamed far sooner than
+that, for, according to her, the men had only asked could they write a
+letter when they seized her. So that again looked like Susan. You
+follow me, sir?”
+
+Again French nodded, while Cheyne broke in: “You never told me
+anything of that.”
+
+Speedwell smiled once more his crafty smile.
+
+“Well, no, Mr. Cheyne, I didn’t mention it certainly. It was only a
+theory, you understand. I thought I’d wait till I was sure.
+
+“Well, gentlemen, there it was. Someone wanted some paper that Mr.
+Cheyne had—it was almost certainly a paper, as they searched his
+pocketbook—and Susan was involved. I hung about Warren Lodge, and all
+the time I was watching Susan. I found she wrote frequent letters and
+always posted them herself: so that was suspicious too. Then one day
+when she was out I slipped up to her room and searched around. I found
+a writing case in her box of much too good a kind for a servant, and a
+blotting-paper pad with a lot of ink marks. When I put the pad before
+a mirror I made out an address written several times: ‘Mr. J. Dangle,
+Laurel Lodge, Hopefield Avenue, Hendon.’ So that was that.”
+
+Speedwell paused and glanced at his auditors in turn, but neither
+replying, he resumed:
+
+“I generally try to make a friend when I’m on a case: they’re useful
+if you want some special information. So I chummed up with the
+housemaid at Mrs. Hazelton’s—friends of Mr. Cheyne’s—live quite close
+by. I told this girl I was on the burglary job, and that there would
+be big money in it if the thieves were caught, and that if she helped
+me she should get her share. I told her I had my suspicions of Susan,
+said I was going to London, and asked her would she watch Susan and
+keep me advised of how things went on. She said yes, and I gave her a
+couple of pounds on account, just to keep her eager, while I came back
+to town to look after Dangle.”
+
+In spite of the keen interest with which he was listening to these
+revelations, Cheyne felt himself seething with indignant anger. How he
+had been hoodwinked by this sneaking scoundrel, with his mean
+ingratiating smile and his assumption of melancholy! He could have
+kicked himself as he remembered how he had tried to cheer and
+encourage the mock pessimist. He wondered which was the more hateful,
+the man’s deceit or the cynical way he was now telling of it. But,
+apparently unconscious of the antagonism which he had aroused,
+Speedwell calmly and, Cheyne thought disgustedly, a trifle proudly,
+continued his narrative.
+
+“I soon found that James Dangle lived at Laurel Lodge. He was alone
+except for a daily char, but up till a short while earlier his sister
+had kept house for him. When I learned that his sister had left Laurel
+Lodge on the same day that Susan took up her place at Warren Lodge, I
+soon guessed who Susan really was.
+
+“I thought that when these two would go to so much trouble, the thing
+they were after must be pretty well worth while, and I thought it
+might pay me if I could find out what it was. So I shadowed Dangle,
+and learned a good deal about him. I learned that he was constantly
+meeting two other men, so I shadowed them and learned they were
+Blessington and Sime. Blessington I guessed first time I saw him was
+the man who had drugged you, Mr. Cheyne, for he exactly covered your
+and the manager’s descriptions. It seemed clear then that these three
+and Susan Dangle—if her real name was Susan—were in the conspiracy to
+get whatever you had.”
+
+“But what I would like to have explained,” Cheyne burst in, “was why
+you didn’t tell me what you had discovered. You were paid to do it.
+What did you think you were taking that hotel manager’s money for?”
+
+Speedwell made a gesture of deferential disagreement.
+
+“I scarcely think that you can find fault with me there, Mr. Cheyne,”
+he answered with his ingratiating smile. “I was investigating: I had
+not reached the end of my investigation. As you will see, sir, my
+investigation took a somewhat unexpected turn—a very unexpected turn,
+I might almost say, which left me in a bit of doubt as to how to act.
+But you’ll hear.”
+
+Inspector French had been sitting quite still at his desk, but now he
+stretched out his hand, took a cigar from the box, and as he lit it,
+murmured: “Go on, Speedwell. Sounds like a novel. I’m enjoying it.
+Aren’t you, Mr. Cheyne?”
+
+Cheyne made noncommital noises, and Speedwell, looking pleased,
+continued:
+
+“One evening, nearly two months ago, I got back late from another job
+and I found a wire waiting for me. It was from Mrs. Hazelton’s
+housemaid and it said: ‘Maxwell Cheyne disappeared and Susan left
+Warren Lodge for London.’ I thought to myself: ‘Bully for you, Jane,’
+and then I thought: ‘Susan will be turning to Brother James. I’ll go
+out to Hopefield Avenue and see if I can pick anything up.’ So I went
+out. It was about half-past ten when I arrived. I found the front of
+the house in darkness, but an upper window at the back was lighted up.
+There was a lane along behind the houses, you understand, Mr. French,
+and a bit of garden between them and the lane. The gate into the
+garden was open, and I slipped in and began to tiptoe towards the
+house. Then I heard soft steps coming in after me, and I turned aside
+and hid behind a large shrub to see what would happen. And then I saw
+something that interested me very much. A man came in very quietly and
+I saw in the faint moonlight that he was carrying a ladder.” There was
+an exclamation from Cheyne. “He put the ladder to the lighted window
+and climbed up, and then I saw who it was. I needn’t tell you, Mr.
+Cheyne, I was surprised to see you, and I waited behind the bush for
+what would happen. I saw and heard the whole thing: the party coming
+down to supper, your getting in, Sime coming out and seeing the
+ladder, the alarm, your coming out, and them getting you on the head
+in the garden. You’ll perhaps think, Mr. Cheyne, that I should have
+come out and lent you a hand, but after all, sir, I don’t know that
+you could claim that you had the right of it altogether, and besides,
+it all happened so quickly I had no chance to interfere. Well, anyhow
+they knocked you out and then they searched you and took a folded
+paper from your pocket. ‘Thank goodness, we’ve got the tracing at all
+events,’ Dangle said, speaking very softly, ‘but now we’re in the soup
+and no mistake. What are we going to do with the confounded fool’s
+body?’ They examined the ladder and saw from the contractor’s name
+that it had been brought from the new house, then they whispered
+together and I couldn’t hear what was said, but at last Sime said:
+‘Right, we’ll fix it so that it will look as if he fell off the
+ladder.’ Then the three men picked you up, Mr. Cheyne, and carried you
+out down the lane. Susan stood in the garden waiting, and I had to sit
+tight behind the bush. In about ten minutes the men came back and then
+Sime took the ladder and carried it away down the lane. The others
+whispered together and then Dangle said something to Susan, ending up:
+‘It’s in the second left hand drawer.’ She went indoors, but came out
+again in a moment with a powerful electric torch. Blessington and
+Dangle then searched for traces of your little affair, Mr. Cheyne.
+They found the marks of the ladder butts in the soft grass and
+smoothed them out, and they looked everywhere, I suppose, for
+footprints or something that you might have dropped when you fell.
+Then Sime came back and they all went in and shut the door.”
+
+Cheyne snorted angrily.
+
+“It didn’t occur to you, I suppose, to make any effort to help me or
+even find out if I was alive or dead? You weren’t going to have any
+trouble, even if you did become an accessory after the fact?”
+
+“I’m coming to that, Mr. Cheyne. All in good time, sir.” Speedwell
+rubbed his hands unctuously. “You will understand that as long as the
+garden was occupied I couldn’t come out from behind the bush. But
+directly the coast was clear I got out of the garden and turned along
+the lane where they had carried you. I wondered where they could have
+hidden you, and I started searching. I remembered what Sime had said
+about the ladder, so I went to the half-built house and had a look
+around, but I couldn’t find you in it. Then I saw you lying back of
+the road fence, but just at that minute I heard footsteps, and I
+stopped behind a pile of bricks till the party would pass. But you
+called out and the lady stopped, and once again I couldn’t interfere.
+I heard the arrangements about the taxi, and when the lady went away
+to get it I slipped out and hid where I could see it. In that way I
+got its number. Next day I saw the driver and got out of him where he
+had taken you, and I kept my eye on you and when you got better
+trailed you to Miss Merrill’s. From other people living in the flats I
+found out about her.” After a pause he concluded: “And I think,
+gentlemen, that’s about all I have to tell you.”
+
+Inspector French slowly expelled a cloud of gray cigar smoke from his
+mouth.
+
+“Really, Speedwell, you have surpassed yourself,” he murmured. “Your
+story, as I told you, sounds like a novel. A pity though, that having
+gone so far you did not go a little farther. You did not find out, for
+example, what business this mysterious quartet were plotting?”
+
+“I did not, Mr. French,” the man returned earnestly. “I gathered that
+it was connected with ‘the tracing’ that Dangle spoke of, and I
+imagined the tracing was what they had been wanting from Mr. Cheyne,
+and evidently had got, but I didn’t get a sight of it, and I have no
+idea of their game.”
+
+“And did you find out nothing that might be a help? Where did those
+three men spend their time? What did they do in the daytime?”
+
+“Just what I told Mr. Cheyne, sir. I gave him perfectly correct
+information in everything. Dangle is a town sharp and helps run a
+gambling room in Knightsbridge. Sime is another of the same—collects
+pigeons in the night clubs for the others to pluck. Blessington, I got
+the hint, lived by blackmail, but I’ve no proof of this.”
+
+“Anything else?”
+
+“No, Mr. French, not that I know. Unless”—he hesitated—“unless one
+thing. It may or may not be important; I don’t know. It’s this:
+Dangle, during these last three or four weeks, he’s been away nearly
+half the time from London—on the Continent. I don’t know to what
+country, but it must be France or Belgium or Holland, I should
+think—or maybe Ireland—because he has crossed over one night and
+crossed back the next. I know that because of a remark I overheard him
+make to Sime in a tube lift where I was standing just behind him. It
+was a Wednesday and he said: ‘I’m crossing tonight, but I’ll be back
+on Friday morning.’”
+
+This seemed to be the sum total of Speedwell’s knowledge, or at least
+all he would divulge, and he presently departed, apparently cheered by
+French’s somewhat cryptic declaration that he would not forget the
+part the other had played in the affair. He perhaps would not have
+been so pleased had he heard French’s subsequent comments to Cheyne.
+“A dangerous man, Mr. Cheyne, for an amateur to deal with, though he’s
+too much afraid of the Yard to try any monkeying with me. I may tell
+you in confidence that he was dismissed from the force on suspicion of
+taking bribes to let a burglar get away—I needn’t say the thing
+couldn’t be proved, or he would have seen the inside of a convict
+prison, but there was no doubt at all that he was guilty. Since that
+he has been caught sailing rather close to the wind, but again he just
+managed to keep himself safe. But the result is, he would do anything
+to curry favor here, and indeed once or twice he has been quite
+useful. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he had been blackmailing
+Blessington & Co. in connection with your attempted murder.”
+
+“Ugh!” Cheyne made a gesture of disgust. “The very sight of the man
+makes me sick.” Then, his look of anxious eagerness returning, he went
+on: “But, Inspector, his story is all very well and interesting and
+all that, but I don’t see that it helps us to find Miss Merrill, and
+that is the only thing that matters.”
+
+“The only thing to you, perhaps,” French returned, “but not the only
+thing to me. This whole business looks uncommonly like conspiracy for
+criminal purposes, and if so, it automatically concerns the Yard.” He
+glanced at the clock on the wall before his desk. “Let’s see now, it’s
+just five o’clock. Before giving up for the day I should like to have
+a look over Miss Merrill’s room to settle that little question of the
+fur coat, and I should like you to come with me. Shall we go now?”
+
+Cheyne sprang to his feet eagerly. Action was what he wanted, and his
+heart beat more rapidly at the prospect of visiting a place where
+every object would remind him of the girl he loved, and whom, in spite
+of himself, he feared he had lost. Impatiently he waited while French
+put on his hat and left word where he could be found in case of need.
+
+Some fifteen minutes later the two men were ascending the stairs of
+the house in Horne Terrace. The door of No. 12 was shut, and to
+Cheyne’s knock there was no response.
+
+“I’m afraid you needn’t expect Miss Merrill to have got back,” French
+commented. “I had better open the door.”
+
+He worked at it for a few moments, first with his bunch of skeleton
+keys, then with a bent wire, until the bolt shot back, and pushing
+open the door, they entered the room.
+
+It was just as Cheyne had last seen it except that the kettle and tea
+equipage had been tidied away. French stood in the middle of the
+floor, glancing keenly round on the contents. Then he moved to the
+other door.
+
+“This her bedroom?” he inquired, as he pushed it open and looked in.
+
+As Cheyne followed him into the tiny apartment, he felt as a devout
+Mohammedan might, who through stress of circumstances entered fully
+shod into one of the holy places of his religion. It seemed nothing
+short of profanation for himself and this commonplace inspector of
+police to intrude into a place so hallowed by association with Her. In
+a kind of reverent awe he looked about him. There was the bed in which
+She slept, the table at which She dressed, the wardrobe in which Her
+dresses hung, and there—what were those? He stood, stricken motionless
+by surprise, staring at a tiny pair of rather high-heeled brown shoes
+which were lying on their sides on the floor in front of a chair.
+
+French noted his expression.
+
+“What is it?” he queried, following the direction of the other’s eyes.
+
+“Her shoes!” Cheyne said in a tone of wonder, as he might have said:
+“Her diamond coronet.”
+
+French frowned.
+
+“Well, what’s wonderful about that?” he asked with the nearest
+approach to sharpness in his tone that Cheyne had yet heard.
+
+“Her shoes,” Cheyne repeated. “Her shoes that she wore last night.”
+
+It was now French’s turn to look interested.
+
+“Sure of that?” he asked, picking up the shoes.
+
+“Certain. I saw them on her in the train to Wembley. Unless she has
+two absolutely identical pairs, she was wearing those.”
+
+French had been turning the shoes over in his hand.
+
+“You said you saw a mark of where someone had slipped on the bank
+behind the wall you threw the tracing over,” he went on. “You might
+describe that mark.”
+
+“It was just a kind of scrape on the sloping ground, with the
+footprint below it. Her foot had evidently slipped down till it came
+to a firmer place.”
+
+“Right foot or left?”
+
+“Right.”
+
+“And which way was the toe pointing: towards the bank or parallel with
+it?”
+
+“Parallel. She had evidently climbed up diagonally.”
+
+“Quite so. Now another question. If you were standing in the field
+looking towards the bank, did she climb towards the right hand or the
+left?”
+
+“The left.”
+
+“And the soil where the mark was; you might describe that.”
+
+“It was rather light in color, a yellowish brown. It was clayey, and
+the print showed clearly, as it would in stiff putty.”
+
+French nodded.
+
+“Then, Mr. Cheyne, if all your data are right, and if the footprint
+was made by Miss Merrill when she was wearing these shoes, I should
+expect to find a mark of yellowish clay on the outside of the right
+shoe. Isn’t that correct?”
+
+Cheyne thought for a moment, then signified his assent.
+
+“I turn up this shoe,” French continued, suiting the action to the
+word, “and I find here the very mark I was expecting. See for
+yourself. I think we may take it then, not only that Miss Merrill made
+the mark on the bank, and of course made it last night, but also that
+she was wearing these shoes when she made it. And that would coincide
+with your observation.”
+
+“But,” cried Cheyne, “I don’t understand. How did the shoes get here?
+Miss Merrill wasn’t here since we left to go to Wembley.”
+
+“How do you know?”
+
+“Well, there’s what Dangle said. I don’t mean of course that I believe
+Dangle. Everything else he’s said to me has turned out to be a lie.
+But in this case the circumstances seem to prove this story. If he
+didn’t see Miss Merrill how did he know of her getting over the wall
+for the tracing? And if he didn’t capture her then why did she not
+return here? Or rather, suppose she did return, why should she go away
+again without leaving a note or sending me a message?”
+
+French shook his head.
+
+“I don’t know,” he answered. “I merely asked the question and your
+answer certainly seems sound. But now let us look about the coat.” He
+opened the wardrobe door. “Is the cloth coat she was wearing last
+night here?”
+
+A glance showed Cheyne the brown cloth, fur-trimmed coat Joan had worn
+on the previous evening.
+
+“And you will see further,” went on French when he had been satisfied
+on this point, “that there is no coat here of musquash fur. You say
+she had one?”
+
+“Yes. I have seen her wearing it several times.”
+
+“Then I think Mrs. Sproule saw her wearing it today. We may take it, I
+think, either that she returned here last night and changed her
+clothes, or else that someone brought in her coat and shoes, left them
+here and took out her others.”
+
+“The latter, I should think,” Cheyne declared.
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because I don’t think she would come here of her own free will and
+leave again without sending me some message.”
+
+French did not reply. He had rather taken the view that if the girl
+was the prisoner of the gang the garments would not have been changed,
+and the more he thought over it the more probable this seemed. Rather
+he was inclined to believe that she had reached her rooms after the
+episode at Earlswood, possibly even with the tracing; that she had
+been followed there and by some trick induced to leave again, when in
+all probability she had been kidnaped and the tracing recovered by the
+gang. But he felt there was no use in discussing this theory with
+Cheyne, whose anxiety as to the girl’s welfare had rendered his
+critical faculty almost useless. He turned back to the young man.
+
+“I have no doubt that that shoe of Miss Merrill’s made the mark you
+saw,” he observed. “At the same time I want definite evidence. It
+won’t take very long to run out to Wembley and try. Let us go now, and
+that will finish us for tonight.”
+
+They took a taxi and were soon at the place in question. The print was
+not so clear as when Cheyne had seen it first, but in spite of this
+French had no difficulty in satisfying himself. The shoe fitted it
+exactly.
+
+That night after supper, as French stretched himself in his
+easy-chair, he decided he would have a preliminary look at the
+tracing. He recognized that the mere fact that it had been handed to
+Cheyne by Dangle involved the probability that it was not the genuine
+document but a faked copy. At the same time he was bound to make what
+he could of it, and it was with very keen interest he unfolded and
+began to study it.
+
+It was neatly drawn, though evidently not by a professional
+draughtsman. The lettering of the words, “England expects every man to
+do his duty” was amateurish. He wondered what the phrase could mean.
+It did not seem to ring quite true. In his mind the words ran “England
+expects that every man this day will do his duty,” but he rather
+thought this was the version in the song, and if so, the wording might
+have been altered from the original for metrical reasons. He
+determined to look up the quotation on the first opportunity. On the
+other hand it might have been condensed into eight words in order to
+fit round the sheet. It was spaced in a large circle among the smaller
+circles like the figures of a clock. It conveyed to him no idea
+whatever, except the obvious suggestion of Nelson. Could Nelson, he
+wondered, or Trafalgar, be the key word in some form of cipher?
+
+As he studied the sheet he noted some points which Cheyne appeared to
+have missed, or which at all events he had not mentioned. While the
+circles were spaced without any apparent plan—absolutely irregularly,
+it seemed to French—there was some evidence of arrangement in their
+contents. Those nearer the edges of the tracing contained letters,
+while those more centrally situated bore numbers. There was no hard
+and fast line between the two, as letters and numbers appeared, so to
+speak, to overlap each other’s territory, but broadly speaking the
+arrangement held. He noticed also a few circles which contained
+neither numbers nor letters, but instead tiny irregular lines. There
+were only some half dozen of these, but all of them so far as he could
+see occurred on the neutral territory between the number zone and the
+letter zone. These irregular lines represented nothing that he could
+imagine, and no two appeared of the same shape.
+
+That the document was a cipher he could not but conclude, and in vain
+he puzzled over it until long past his usual bedtime. Finally, locking
+it away in his desk, he decided that when he had completed the obvious
+investigations which still remained, he would have another go at it,
+working through all the possibilities that occurred to him
+systematically and thoroughly.
+
+But before French had another opportunity to examine it, further news
+had come in which had led him a dance of several hundred miles, and
+left him hot on the track of the conspirators.
+
+
+
+Chapter XV
+
+The Torn Hotel Bill
+
+On reaching the Yard next morning Inspector French began his day by
+compiling a list of the various points on which obvious investigations
+still remained to be made. He had already determined that these should
+be carried through with the greatest possible dispatch, leaving a
+general consideration of the case over until their results should be
+available.
+
+The immediate questions were, of course: Was Joan Merrill alive? And
+if so, where was she? These must be solved as soon as possible. The
+further matters relating to the hiding-place and aims of the gang
+could wait. It was, however, likely enough that if French could find
+Joan, he would have at least gone a long way towards solving her
+captors’ secret.
+
+Perhaps the most promising of all the lines of inquiry open to him
+were the detailed searches of Blessington’s and Sime’s houses, and he
+decided he would begin with these. Accordingly, having called Sergeant
+Carter and a couple more men, he went out to Earlswood and set to
+work.
+
+French was extraordinarily thorough. Nothing in that house, from the
+water cistern space in the roof to the floors of the pantries and the
+tool shed in the yard—nothing escaped observation. The furniture was
+examined, particularly the writing desk and the old escritoire, the
+carpets were lifted and the floors tested, the walls were minutely
+inspected for secret receptacles, the pages of the books were turned
+over, the clothes—of which a respectable wardrobe remained—were gone
+through, with special attention to the pockets. Nothing was taken for
+granted: everything was examined. Even the outside of the house and
+the soil of the garden were looked at, and at the end, some four hours
+after they had begun, French had to admit that his gains were
+practically nil.
+
+The reservation was in respect of four objects, from one or more of
+which he might conceivably extract some information, though he was far
+from hopeful. The first was the top sheet of Blessington’s writing
+pad. French, following his usual custom, had examined it through a
+mirror, but so completely covered was it with inkstains that he was
+unable to decipher even a single word. However, on chance he tore it
+off and put it in his pocket, in the hope that a future more detailed
+examination might reveal something of interest.
+
+The second object was a scrap of crumpled paper which he found in the
+right-hand upper pocket of one of Dangle’s waistcoats. It looked as if
+it had been crushed to the bottom of the pocket by some other
+article—such as an engagement book—being thrust down on the top of it.
+When the pockets had been cleared—as all had been—this small piece of
+paper had evidently been overlooked.
+
+French straightened it out. It was the bottom portion of what was
+clearly a bill, apparently a French hotel bill. On the back was a note
+written in pencil, and as French read it, the thought passed through
+his mind that he could not have imagined any more unexpected or
+puzzling contents. It was in the form of a memorandum and read:
+
+    . . . . . . ins.
+    . . . . ators.
+    Peaches—3 doz. tins.
+    Safety Matches—6 doz. boxes.
+    Galsworthy—The Forsyte Saga.
+    Pencils and Fountain Pen Ink.
+    Sou’wester.
+
+The paper was torn across the first two items, so that only part of
+the words were legible. What so heterogeneous a collection could
+possibly refer to French could not imagine, but he put the fragment in
+his pocket with the blotting paper for future study.
+
+The other two objects were photographs, and from the descriptions he
+had received from Cheyne he felt satisfied that one was of Blessington
+and the other of Dangle. These were of no help in themselves, but
+might later prove useful for identification purposes.
+
+The search of Earlswood complete, French gave his men an hour for
+lunch, and then started a similar investigation of Sime’s house. He
+was just as painstaking and thorough here, but this time he had no
+luck at all. Though Sime had not so carefully destroyed papers and
+correspondence, he could not find a single thing which seemed to offer
+help.
+
+Sime’s house being so much smaller than Blessington’s, the search was
+finished in little over an hour. On its completion French sent two of
+his men back to the Yard, while with Sergeant Carter he drove to Horne
+Terrace. There he examined Joan Merrill’s rooms, again without result.
+
+The work ended about four, and then he and Carter began another job,
+quite as detailed and a good deal more wearisome than the others. He
+had determined to question individually every other person living in
+the house—that is, the inhabitants of no less than nine flats—in the
+hope that some one of them might have seen or heard Joan returning to
+her rooms on the night of her disappearance. In a way the point was
+not of supreme importance, but experience had taught French the danger
+of neglecting _any_ clue, no matter how unpromising, and he had long
+since made it a principle to follow up every opening which offered.
+
+For over two hours he worked, and at last, as he was beginning to
+accept defeat, he obtained just the information he required.
+
+It appeared that about a quarter past eleven on the night in question,
+the fifteen-year-old daughter of a widow living on the third floor was
+returning home from some small jollification when she saw, just as she
+approached the door, three persons come out. Two were men, one tall,
+well built and clean-shaven, the other short and stout, with a fair
+toothbrush mustache. The third person was Miss Merrill. A street lamp
+had shone directly on their faces as they emerged, and the girl had
+noticed that the men wore serious expressions and that Miss Merrill
+looked pale and anxious, as if all three were sharers in some bad
+news. They crossed the sidewalk to a waiting motor. Miss Merrill and
+the taller man got inside, the second man driving. During the time the
+girl saw them, none of them spoke. She remembered the car. It was a
+yellow one with a coach body, and looked a private vehicle. Yes, she
+recognized the photograph the Inspector showed her—Blessington’s. It
+was that of the driver of the car.
+
+It did not seem worth while to French to try to trace the car, as he
+fancied he knew where it had gone. From Horne Terrace to Sime’s house
+in Colton Street was about a ten minute run. Therefore if it left the
+former about 11:15, it should reach the latter a minute or two before
+the half-hour. This worked in with the time at which the invalid lady,
+Mrs. Sproule, had heard the motor stop in the street, and to French it
+seemed clear that Miss Merrill had been taken direct to Sime’s, and
+kept there until 1:45 P.M. on the following day. What arguments or
+threats the pair had used to get her to accompany them French could
+not tell, but he shrewdly suspected that they had played the same
+trick on her as on Cheyne. In all probability they had told her that
+Cheyne had met with an accident and was conscious and asking for her.
+Once in the cab it would have been child’s play for a powerful man
+like Sime to have chloroformed her, and having got her to the house,
+they could easily have kept her helpless and semi-conscious by means
+of drugs.
+
+French returned on foot to the Yard, thinking over the affair as he
+walked. It certainly had a sinister look. These men were very much in
+earnest. They had not hesitated to resort to murder in the case of
+Cheyne—it was through, to them, an absolutely unforeseen accident that
+he escaped—and French felt he would not give much for Joan Merrill’s
+chances.
+
+When he reached his office he found that a piece of news had just come
+in. A constable who had been on point duty at the intersection of
+South and Mitchem Streets, near Waterloo Station, had noticed about 2
+P.M. on the day of the disappearance of the gang, a yellow motorcar
+pass close beside him and turn into Hackworth’s garage, a small
+establishment in the latter street. Though he had not observed the
+vehicle with more than the ordinary attention such a man will give to
+the passing traffic, his recollection both of the car and driver led
+him to the belief that they were those referred to in the Yard
+circular. The constable was waiting to see French, and made his report
+with diffidence, saying that though he thought he was right, he might
+easily be mistaken.
+
+“Quite right to let me know anyhow, Wilson,” French said heartily. “If
+you’ve seen Blessington’s car it may give us a valuable clue, and if
+you’re mistaken, there’s no harm done. We’ve nothing to lose by
+following it up.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s past my dinner hour,
+but I’ll take a taxi and go round to this garage on my way home. You’d
+better come along.”
+
+Ten minutes later the two men reached Hackworth’s establishment, and
+pushing open the door of the tiny office, asked if the manager was
+about.
+
+“I’m John Hackworth. Yes, sir?” said a stout man in shabby gray
+tweeds. “Want a car?”
+
+“I want a word with you, Mr. Hackworth,” said French pleasantly. “Just
+a small matter of private business.”
+
+Hackworth nodded, and indicated a farther door.
+
+“In here,” he invited, and when French and the constable had taken the
+two chairs the room contained, he briskly repeated: “Yes, sir?”
+
+At this hint not to waste valuable time, French promptly introduced
+himself and propounded his question. Mr. Hackworth looked impressed.
+
+“You don’t tell me that gent was a wrong ’un?” he said anxiously, then
+another idea seeming to strike him, he continued: “Of course it don’t
+matter to me in a way, for I’ve got the car. I’ll tell you about it.”
+
+French produced his photograph of Blessington.
+
+“Tell me first if that’s the man,” he suggested.
+
+Mr. Hackworth pushed the card up to the electric bulb. “It’s him,” he
+declared. “It’s him and no mistake. He walked in here yesterday—no,
+the day before—about eleven and asked to see the boss. ‘I’ve got a
+car,’ he said when I went forward, ‘and there’s something wrong with
+the engine. Sometimes it goes all right and sometimes it doesn’t.
+Maybe,’ he said, ‘you’ll start it up and it’ll run a mile or two well
+enough, then it begins to miss, and the speed drops perhaps to eight
+or ten miles. I don’t know what’s wrong.’
+
+“‘What about your petrol feed?’ I said. ‘Sounds like your carburetor,
+or maybe your strainer or one of your pipes choked.’
+
+“‘I thought it might be that,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t find anything
+wrong. However, I want you to look over it, that is, if you can lend
+me a car while you’re doing it.’
+
+“Well, sir, I needn’t go into all the details, and to make a long
+story short, I agreed to overhaul the car and to lend him an old
+Napier while I was at it. He went away, and same day about two or
+before it he came back with his car, a yellow Armstrong Siddeley. It
+seemed to be all right then, but he said that that was just the
+trouble—it might be all right now and it would be all wrong within a
+minute’s time. So I gave him the Napier—it was a done machine, worth
+very little, but would go all right, you understand. He asked me how
+long I would take, and I said I’d have it for him next day, that was
+yesterday. He had three or four suitcases with him and he transferred
+these across. Then he got into the Napier and drove away, and that was
+the last I saw of him.”
+
+“And what was wrong with his own car?”
+
+“There, sir, you have me beat. Nothing! Or nothing anyhow that I could
+find.”
+
+“Was the Napier a four-seater?”
+
+“Five. Three behind and two in front.”
+
+“A coach body?”
+
+“No, but with a good canvas cover, and he put it up, too, before
+starting.”
+
+“Raining?”
+
+“Neither raining nor like rain: nor no wind neither.”
+
+“How long was he here altogether?”
+
+“Not more than five or six minutes. He left just as soon as he could
+change the cars.”
+
+French, having put a few more questions, got the proprietor to write
+out a detailed description of the Napier. Next, he begged the use of
+the garage telephone and repeated the description to the Yard, asking
+that it should be circulated among the force without delay. Finally he
+thanked the stout Mr. Hackworth for his help, and with Constable
+Wilson left the establishment.
+
+“Now, Wilson,” he said, “you’ve done a good day’s work. I’m pleased
+with you. You may get along home, and if I want anything more I’ll let
+you know in the morning.”
+
+But though it was so late, French did not follow his subordinate’s
+example. Instead he stood on the sidewalk outside the garage, thinking
+hard.
+
+As to the nature of the defect in the engine of the yellow car he had
+no doubt. What was wrong with it was just what Hackworth had said was
+wrong with it—nothing whatever. French could see that the whole
+episode was simply a plan on Blessington’s part to change the car and
+thus cover up his traces. The yellow Armstrong-Siddeley was known to
+be his by many persons, and Blessington wanted one which, as he would
+believe, could not be traced. He would have seen from the papers that
+Cheyne had escaped the fate prepared for him, and he would certainly
+suspect that the outraged young man would put his knowledge at the
+disposal of the police. Therefore the yellow car was a danger and
+another must be procured in its place. The trick was obvious, and
+French had heard of something like it before.
+
+But though the main part of the scheme was clear to French, the
+details were not. From the statement of Mrs. Sproule, the invalid of
+Colton Street, the yellow car had left Sime’s house at about 1:45.
+According to this Hackworth it had reached the garage at a minute or
+so before two. Now, from Colton Street to the garage was a ten or
+twelve minutes’ drive, therefore Blessington must have gone
+practically direct. Moreover, when he left Colton Street Joan Merrill
+and the other members of the gang were in the car, but when he reached
+the garage he was alone. Where had the others dismounted?
+
+Another question suggested itself to French, and he thought that if he
+could answer it he would probably be able to answer the first as well.
+Why did Blessington select this particular garage? He did not know
+this Hackworth—the man had said he had never seen Blessington before.
+Why then this particular establishment rather than one of the scores
+nearer Sime’s dwelling?
+
+For some minutes French puzzled over this point, and then a probable
+explanation struck him. There, just a hundred yards or more away, was
+a place admirably suited for dropping his passengers and picking them
+up again—Waterloo Station. What more natural for Blessington than to
+pull up at the departure side with the yellow Armstrong-Siddeley and
+set them down? What more commonplace for him than to pick them up at
+the arrival side with the black Napier? While he was changing the
+cars, they could enter, mingle with the crowds of passengers, work
+their way across the station and be waiting for him as if they had
+just arrived by train.
+
+Late as it was, French returned to the Yard and put a good man on to
+make inquiries at Waterloo in the hope of proving his theory. Then,
+tired and very hungry, he went home.
+
+But when he had finished supper and, ensconced in his armchair with a
+cigar, had looked through the evening paper, interest in the case
+reasserted itself, and he determined that he would have a look at the
+scrap of paper which he had found in the pocket of one of Dangle’s
+waistcoats.
+
+As has been said, it was a list or memorandum of certain articles,
+written on the back of part of an old hotel bill. French reread the
+items with something as nearly approaching bewilderment as a staid
+inspector of the Yard can properly admit. Peaches, safety matches, the
+Forsyte Saga, pencil, fountain pen ink, and a sou’wester! What in the
+name of goodness could anyone want with such a heterogeneous
+collection? And the quantities! Three dozen tins of peaches, and six
+dozen boxes of matches! Enough to do a small expeditionary force,
+French thought whimsically, though he did not see an expeditionary
+force requiring the works of John Galsworthy, ink, and pencils.
+
+And yet was this idea so absurd? Did not these articles, in point of
+fact, suggest an expedition? Peaches, matches, pencils, and ink—all
+these articles were commonplace and universally obtainable. Did the
+fact that a quantity were required not mean that Dangle or his friends
+were to be cut off for some considerable time from the ordinary
+sources of supply? It certainly looked like it. And as he thought over
+the other articles, he saw that they too were not inconsistent with
+the same idea. The Forsyte Saga was distinguished from most novels in
+a peculiar and indeed a suggestive manner. It consisted of a number of
+novels, each full length or more than full length, but the point of
+interest was that the entire collection was published on thin paper in
+this one volume. Where could one get a greater mass of reading matter
+in a smaller bulk: in other words, where could one find a more
+suitable work of fiction to carry with one on an expedition?
+
+The sou’wester also fitted from this point of view into the scheme of
+things, but it added a distinctive suggestion all its own: that of the
+sea. French’s thoughts turned towards a voyage. But it could not be an
+ordinary voyage in a well-appointed liner, where peaches and matches
+and novels would be as plentiful as in the heart of London. Nor did it
+seem likely that it could be a trip in the _Enid_. Such a craft could
+not remain out of touch with land for so long a period as these stores
+seemed to postulate. French could not think of anything that seemed
+exactly to meet the case, though he registered the idea of an
+expedition as one to be kept in view.
+
+Leaving the point for the time being, he turned over the paper and
+began to examine its other side.
+
+It formed the middle portion of an old hotel bill, the top and bottom
+having been torn off. The items indicated a stay of one night only
+being merely for bed and breakfast. The name of the hotel had been
+torn off with the bill head, and also all but a few letters of the
+green rubber receipt stamp at the bottom. French felt that if he could
+only ascertain the identity of the hotel it might afford him a
+valuable clue, and he settled down to study it in as close detail as
+possible.
+
+[Illustration: A torn scrap of paper, showing part of a bill for
+“1 chambre” and “1 petit déjeuner”, totaling to 28 50. The ends of a
+few other words are visible at the edges of the paper.]
+
+He recalled two statements that Speedwell had made about Dangle.
+First, the melancholy detective had said that commencing about a
+fortnight after the acquisition by the gang of Price’s letter and the
+tracing, Dangle had begun paying frequent visits to the Continent or
+Ireland, and secondly, that in a tube lift he had overheard Dangle say
+that he was crossing on a given night, but would be back the next.
+French thought he might take it for granted that this bill had been
+incurred on one of these trips. He wondered if Dangle had always
+visited the same place, as, if so, the bill would refer to an hotel
+near enough to England to be visited in one day. Of none of this was
+there any evidence, but French believed that it was sufficiently
+probable to be taken as a working hypothesis. If it led nowhere, he
+could try something else.
+
+Assuming then that one could cross to the place in one night and
+return the next, it was obvious that it must be comparatively close to
+England, and, the language on the bill being French, it must be in
+France or Belgium. He took an atlas and a Continental Bradshaw, and
+began to look out the area over which this condition obtained. Soon he
+saw that while the whole of Belgium and the northwest of France,
+bounded by a rough line drawn through Chalons, Nancy, Dijon,
+Angoulême, Chartres, and Brest, were within the _possible_ limit,
+giving a reasonable time in which to transact business, it was more
+than likely the place did not lie east of Brussels and Paris.
+
+He turned back to the torn bill. Could he learn nothing from it?
+
+First, as to the charges. With the franc standing at eighty, twenty
+four francs seemed plenty for a single room, though it was by no means
+exorbitant. It and the 4.50 fr. for _petit déjeuner_ suggested a
+fairly good hotel—probably what might be termed good second-class—not
+one of the great hotels de luxe like the Savoy in London or the
+Crillon or Claridge’s in Paris, but one that ordinary people
+patronized, and which would be well known in its own town.
+
+Of all the information available, the most promising line of research
+seemed that of the rubber stamp, and to that French now turned his
+attention. The three lines read:
+
+    . . . uit
+    . . . lon,
+    . . . S.
+
+French thought he had something that might help here. He rose, crossed
+the room, and after searching in his letter file, produced three or
+four papers. These were hotel bills he had incurred in France and
+Switzerland when he visited those countries in search of the murderer
+of Charles Gething of the firm of Duke & Peabody, and he had brought
+them home with him in the hope that some day he might return as a
+holiday-maker to these same hotels. Now perhaps they would be of use
+in another way.
+
+He spread them out and examined their receipt stamps. From their
+analogy the . . . uit on his fragment obviously stood for the words
+“Pour acquit,” anglice: “paid.” The middle line ending in . . . lon
+was unquestionably the name of the hotel, and the third, ending in S,
+that of its town. And here again was a suggestion as to the size of
+the establishment. A street was not included in the address. It must
+therefore be well known in its town.
+
+It seemed to him moreover that this fact also conveyed a suggestion as
+to the size of the town. If the latter were Paris or Brussels—as he
+had thought not unlikely as both these names ended in s—a street
+address would almost certainly have been given. The names of the hotel
+and town alone pointed to a town of the same standing as the hotel
+itself—a large town to have so important an hotel, but not a capital
+city. In other words, there was a certain probability the hotel was
+situated in a large town comparatively near the English Channel, Paris
+and Brussels being excepted.
+
+As French sat pondering over the affair, he saw suddenly that further
+information was obtainable from the fact that the lettering on a
+rubber stamp is always done symmetrically. Once more rising, he found
+a small piece of tracing paper, and placing this over the mutilated
+receipt stamp, he began to print in the missing letters of the first
+line. His printing was not very good, but he did not mind that. All he
+wanted was to get the spacing of the letters correct, and to this end
+he took a lot of trouble. He searched through the advertisements in
+several papers until he found some type of the same kind as that of
+the . . . uit, and by carefully measuring the other letters he at last
+satisfied himself as to just where the P of Pour acquit would stand.
+This, he hoped, would give him the number of letters in the names of
+both the hotel and the town. Drawing a line down at right angles to
+the t of acquit, he found that the n of . . . lon projected slightly
+over a quarter inch farther along, while the S of the town was almost
+directly beneath. By drawing another line down from the P of Pour, and
+measuring these same distances from it, he found the lengths of the
+names of hotel and town, and by further careful examination and
+spacing of type, he reached definite conclusions. The name of the
+hotel, including the word hotel, contained from eighteen to twenty
+letters and that of the town six, more or less according to whether
+letters like I or W predominated.
+
+He was pleased with his progress. Starting from nothing he had evolved
+the conception of an important hotel—the something-lon, in a large
+town situated in France or Belgium, and comparatively near the English
+Channel, the name of the town consisting of five, six, or seven
+letters of which the last one was S. Surely, he thought, such an hotel
+would not be hard to find.
+
+If he was correct as to the size of the town, it was one which would
+be marked on a fairly small scale map, and taking his atlas, he began
+to make a list of all those which seemed to meet the case. He soon saw
+there were a number—Calais, Amiens, Beauvais, Étaples, Arras,
+Soissons, Troyes, Ypres, Bruges, Roulers, and Malines.
+
+He had by this time become so excited over his quest that in spite of
+the hour—it was long past his bedtime—he telephoned to the Yard to
+send him Baedeker’s Guides to Northern France and Belgium, and when
+these came he began eagerly looking up the hotels in each of the towns
+on his list. For a considerable time he worked on without result, then
+suddenly he laughed from sheer delight.
+
+He had reached Bruges, and there, third on the list, was “Grand Hôtel
+du Sablon!” Moreover, this name exactly filled the required space.
+
+“Got it in one,” he chuckled, feeling immensely pleased with himself.
+
+But French, if sometimes an enthusiastic optimist and again a down and
+out pessimist, was at all times thorough. He did not stop at Bruges.
+He worked all the way through the list, and it was not until he had
+satisfied himself that no other hotel fulfilling the conditions
+existed in any of the other towns, that he felt himself satisfied. It
+was true there was an Hotel du Carillon in Malines, but this name was
+obviously too short for the space.
+
+As he went jubilantly to bed, the vision of a trip to the historic
+city of Bruges bulked large in his imagination.
+
+
+
+Chapter XVI
+
+A Tale of Two Cities
+
+Next morning French had an interview with his chief at the Yard at
+which he produced the torn hotel bill, and having demonstrated the
+methods by which he had come to identify it with the Grand Hôtel du
+Sablon in Bruges, suggested that a visit there might be desirable. To
+his secret relief Chief Inspector Mitchell took the same view, and it
+was arranged that he should cross as soon as he could get away.
+
+On his return to his room he found Cheyne waiting for him. The young
+man seemed to have aged by years since his frenzied appeal to the
+Yard, and his anxious face and distrait manner bore testimony to the
+mental stress through which he was passing. Eagerly he inquired for
+news.
+
+“None so far, I’m sorry to say,” French answered, “except that we have
+found that Miss Merrill did return to her rooms that night,” and he
+told what he had learned of Joan’s movements, as well as of his visit
+to Hackworth’s garage, and of Blessington’s exchange of cars. But of
+Bruges and the hotel bill he said nothing. Cheyne, he felt sure, would
+have begged to be allowed to accompany him to Belgium, and this he did
+not want. But in his kindly way he talked sympathetically to the young
+man reiterating his promise to let him know directly anything of
+importance was learned.
+
+Cheyne having reluctantly taken his leave, French turned to routine
+business, which had got sadly behind during the last few days. At this
+he worked all the morning, but on his return from lunch he found that
+further news had come in.
+
+Sergeant Burnett, the man he had put on the Waterloo Station job, was
+waiting for him, and reported success in his mission. He had, he said,
+spent the whole of the day from early morning at the station, and at
+last he had obtained what he wanted. A taximan on a nearby stand had
+been called to the footpath at the arrival side of the station at
+about 2:00 P.M. He had drawn up behind an old black car, which he had
+thought was a Napier. His own fare, a lady, kept him waiting for a few
+seconds while she took a somewhat leisurely farewell of the gentleman
+who was seeing her off, and during this time he had idly watched the
+vehicle in front. He had seen an invalid lady in a sable colored fur
+coat being helped in. There was a second lady with her, and a tall
+man. The three got in, and the car moved off at the same time as his
+own. Sergeant Burnett had questioned the man on the appearance of the
+travelers, and was pretty certain that they were Joan, Susan, and
+Sime. Dangle, so far as he could learn, was not with them.
+
+French felt the sudden thrill of the artist who has just caught the
+elusive effect of light which he wanted, as he reflected how sound had
+been his deduction. He had considered it likely that these people
+would use Waterloo Station to effect the change of cars, and now it
+seemed that they had done so. Nothing like a bit of imagination, he
+thought, as he good-naturedly complimented the sergeant on his powers,
+and dismissed him.
+
+Having too much to see to at the Yard to catch the 2:00 P.M. from
+Victoria for Ostend, he rang up and engaged a berth on the
+Harwich-Zeebrugge boat, and that night at 8:40 P.M. he left Liverpool
+Street for Belgium.
+
+Apart from his actual business, he was looking forward with
+considerable keenness to the trip. Foreign travel had become perhaps
+his greatest pleasure, and he had never yet been in Belgium. Moreover
+he had always heard Bruges mentioned as the paradise of artists, and
+in a rather shamefaced way he admitted an interest in and appreciation
+of art. He had determined that if at all possible he would snatch
+enough time to see at least the more interesting parts of the old
+town.
+
+They left the Parkeston Quay at 10:30, and by 6 next morning French
+was on deck. He was anxious to miss no possible sight of the approach
+of Zeebrugge. He had read with a thrilled and breathless interest the
+story of what was perhaps the greatest naval exploit of all time—as,
+indeed, who has not?—and as the long, low line of the famous mole
+loomed up rather starboard of straight ahead, his heart beat faster
+and a lump came in his throat. There, away to the right, round the
+curve of the long pier, must have been where _Vindictive_ boarded,
+where in an inferno of fire her crew reached with their scaling
+ladders the top of the great sea wall, and climbing down on the
+inside, joined a hand-to-hand fight with the German defenders. And
+here, at the left hand end of the huge semicircle, was the lighthouse,
+which he was now rounding as _Thetis_, _Intrepid_, and _Iphigenia_
+rounded it on that historic night. He tried to picture the scene. The
+screen of smoke to sea, which baffled the searchlights of the
+defenders and from which mysterious and unexpected craft emerged at
+intervals, the flashing lights as guns were fired and shells burst
+over the mole, the sea, and the low-lying sand dunes of the coast
+behind. The din of hell in the air, fire, smoke, explosion, and
+death—and those three ships passing on; _Thetis_ a wreck, struck and
+fiercely burning, forced aside by the destruction of her gear, but
+lighting her fellows straight to their goal—the mouth of the canal
+which led to the submarine base at Bruges. French crossed the deck and
+gazed at the spot with its swing bridge and stone side walls, as he
+thought how, had the desperate venture failed, history might have been
+changed and at that touch and go period of the war the Central Powers
+might have triumphed. It was with renewed pride and wonder in the men
+who conceived and carried out the wonderful enterprise that he crossed
+back over the deck and set himself to the business of landing.
+
+A short run past the sandhills at the coast and across the flat
+Belgian fields brought the spires of Bruges into view, and slowly
+rounding a sharp curve through the gardens of the houses in the
+suburbs, they joined the main line from Ostend, and a few minutes
+later entered the station. Emerging on to the wide boulevard in front,
+French’s eyes fell on a bus bearing the legend “Grand Hôtel du
+Sablon,” and getting in, he was driven across the boulevard and a
+short way up a long, rather narrow and winding street, between houses
+some of which seemed to have stood unaltered—and doubtless had—for six
+hundred years, when Bruges, three times its present size, was the
+chief trading city of the Hanseatic League. As he turned into the
+hotel, chimes rang out—from the famous belfry, the porter told
+him—tinkling, high-pitched bells and silvery, if a trifle thin in the
+clear morning air.
+
+He called for some breakfast, and as he was consuming it the
+anticipated delights of sight-seeing receded, and interest in the
+movements of James Dangle became once more paramount. He was proud of
+his solution of the problem of the torn hotel bill, and not for a
+moment had a doubt of the correctness of that solution entered his
+head.
+
+It came upon him therefore as a devastating shock when the courteous
+manager of the hotel, with whom he had asked an interview, assured him
+not only that no such person as the original of the photograph he had
+presented had ever visited his establishment, but that the fragment of
+the bill was not his.
+
+To French it seemed as if the bottom had fallen out of his world. He
+had been so sure of his ground; all his reasoning about the stamp, the
+size of the hotel and town and lengths of their names had seemed so
+convincing and unassailable. And the names Grand Hôtel du Sablon and
+Bruges had worked in so well! More important still, no other hotel
+seemed to fill the bill. French felt cast down to the lowest depths of
+despair, and for a time he could only stare speechlessly at the
+manager.
+
+At last he smiled rather ruefully.
+
+“That’s rather a blow,” he confessed. “I was pretty sure of my ground.
+Indeed, so sure was I, that if I might without offense, I should like
+to ask you again if there is no possibility that the man might have
+been here, say, during your absence.”
+
+The manager was sympathetic. He brought French a sample of his bill,
+stamped with his rubber receipt stamp, and French saw at once their
+dissimilarity with those he had been studying. Moreover, the manager
+assured him that neither had been altered for several years.
+
+So he was no further on! French lit a cigar, and retiring to a
+deserted corner of the salon, sat down to think the thing out.
+
+What was he to do next? Was he to return to London by the next boat,
+giving up the search and admitting defeat, or was there any possible
+alternative? He set his teeth as he swore great oaths that nothing
+short of the direct need would lead him to abandon his efforts until
+he had found the hotel, and learned Dangle’s secret.
+
+But heroics were all very well: what, in point of fact was he to do?
+He sat considering the problem for an hour, and at the end of that
+time he had decided to go to Brussels, borrow or buy a Belgian hotel
+guide, and go through it page by page until he found what he wanted.
+If none of the hotels given suited, he would go on to Paris and try a
+similar experiment.
+
+This decision he reached only after long consideration, not because it
+was not obvious—it had instantly occurred to him—but because he was
+convinced that the methods he had already tried had completely covered
+the ground. He had proved that there was no hotel whose name ended in
+. . . lon in a fair-sized town whose name ended in . . . s in all the
+district in question, other than the Grand Hôtel du Sablon at Bruges.
+There still remained, however, the chance that it might be a southern
+French or Swiss hotel, and he saw that he would have to make sure of
+this before returning to London.
+
+Still buried in thought, he walked slowly back to the station to look
+up trains to Brussels. The fact that he was in the most interesting
+town in Belgium no longer stirred his pulse. His disappointment and
+anxiety about his case drove all irrelevant matters from his mind, and
+he felt that all he wanted now was to be at work again to retrieve his
+error.
+
+He reached the station, and began searching the huge timetable boards
+for the train he wanted. He was interested to notice that the tables
+were published in two languages, French and what he thought at first
+was Dutch, but concluded later must be Flemish. Idly he compared the
+different spelling of the names of the towns. Brugge and Bruges, Gent
+and Gand, Brussel and Bruxelles, Oostende and Ostende, and then
+suddenly he came up as it were all standing, and a sudden wave of
+excitement passed over him as he stood regarding another pair of
+names. Antwerpen and Anvers! Anvers! A six lettered town ending in s!
+He cursed himself for his stupidity. He had always thought of the
+place as Antwerp, but he ought to have known its French name. Anvers!
+Once more he was alert and full of eager optimism. Had he got it at
+last?
+
+He passed through on to the platform, and making for a door headed
+“Chef de Gare,” asked for the stationmaster. There, after a moment’s
+delay, he was shown into the presence of an imposing individual in
+gold lace, who, however, was not too important to listen to him
+carefully and reply courteously in somewhat halting English. Monsieur
+wished to know if there was an hotel whose name ended in . . . lon in
+Antwerp? He could not recall one off hand, but he would look up the
+advertisements in his guides and tourist programs. Ah, what was this?
+The Grand Hôtel du Carillon. Was that what monsieur required?
+
+A name of twenty letters—which would exactly fill the space on the
+receipt stamp! It certainly was what monsieur required! The very idea
+raised monsieur to an exalted pitch of delighted enthusiasm. The
+stationmaster was gratified at the reception of his information.
+
+“I haf been at the ’otel myself,” he volunteered. “It is small, but
+vair’ goot. It is in the Place Verte, near to the Cathedral. Does
+monsieur know Antwerp?”
+
+Monsieur did not, but he expressed the pleasure it would give him to
+make its acquaintance, and thanking the polite official he returned to
+the timetables to look up the trains thither.
+
+His most direct way, it appeared, was through Ghent and Termonde, but
+on working out the services he found he could get quicker trains via
+Brussels. He therefore booked by that route, and at 11:51 he climbed
+into a great through express from Ostend to Brussels, Aix-la-Chapelle,
+Strasbourg, and, it seemed to him, the whole of the rest of Europe. An
+hour and a half’s run brought him into Brussels-Nord, and from there
+he wandered out into the Place Rogier for lunch. Then returning to the
+station he took an express for Antwerp, arriving in the central
+terminus of that city a few minutes after three o’clock.
+
+He had bought a map of Antwerp at a bookstall in Brussels, from which
+he had learned that the Place Verte was nearly a mile away in the
+direction of the river. His traveling impedimenta consisting of a
+handbag only, he determined to walk, and emerging from the great
+marble hall of the station, he passed down the busy Avenue de Keyser,
+and along the Place de Meir into the older part of the town. As he
+walked he was immensely impressed by the fine wide streets, the ornate
+buildings, and the excellence of the shops. Everywhere were evidences
+of wealth and prosperity, and as he turned into the Place Verte, and
+looked across at the huge bulk of the Cathedral with its soaring
+spire, he felt that here was an artistic treasure of which any city
+might well be proud.
+
+The Grand Hôtel du Carillon was an old, quaint looking building
+looking out over the Place Verte. French, entering, called for a bock
+in the restaurant, and after he had finished, asked to see the
+manager. A moment later a small, stout man with a humorous eye
+appeared, bowed low, and said that he was M. Marquet, the proprietor.
+
+“A word with you in private, M. Marquet,” French requested, when they
+had exchanged confidences on the weather. “Won’t you take something
+with me?”
+
+The proprietor signified his willingness in excellent English, and
+when further drinks had been brought, and French had satisfied himself
+that they were alone, he went on:
+
+“I am a detective officer from the London police, and I am trying to
+trace an Englishman called Dangle. I have reason to suppose he stayed
+at this hotel recently. There is his photograph. Can you help me at
+all?”
+
+At the name Dangle, M. Marquet had nodded, and when he saw the
+photograph he beamed and his whole body became affirmation
+personified. But certainly, he knew M. Dangle. For several weeks—he
+could not say how many, but he could ascertain from his records—for
+several weeks M. Dangle had been his guest at intervals. Sometimes he
+had stayed one night, sometimes two, sometimes three. Yes, he was
+usually alone, but not always. On three or four occasions he had been
+accompanied by another gentleman—a tall, well-built, clean-shaven man,
+and once a third man had come, a short man with a fair mustache. Yes,
+that was the photograph of the short man, M.—? Yes; Blessington. The
+other man’s name he could not remember, but it would appear in the
+register: Sile, Site—something like that. Yes, Sime: that was it. No,
+he was afraid he knew nothing about these gentlemen or their business,
+but he would be glad to do everything in his power to assist monsieur.
+
+French, his enthusiasm and delight remaining at fever heat, was
+suitably grateful. He wished just to ask M. Marquet a few more
+questions. He would like to know the last occasion on which M. Dangle
+had stayed.
+
+“Why,” M. Marquet exclaimed, “he just left yesterday. He came here,
+let me see, on Tuesday night quite late, indeed it was nearly one on
+Wednesday morning when he arrived. He came, he said, off the English
+boat train which arrives here about midnight. He stayed here two
+days—till yesterday, Thursday. He left yesterday shortly after
+déjeuner.”
+
+“He was alone?”
+
+“Yes, monsieur. This time he was alone.”
+
+French, metaphorically speaking, hugged himself on hearing this news.
+Through his brilliant work with the torn bill, he had added one more
+fine achievement to the long list of his successes. He could not but
+believe that the most doubtful and difficult step of the investigation
+had now been accomplished. With a trail only twenty four hours old, he
+should surely be able to put his hands on Dangle with but little
+delay. Moreover, from the fact that so many visits had been paid to
+Antwerp it looked as if the secret of the gang was hidden in the city.
+Greatly reassured, he proceeded to acquire details.
+
+He began by obtaining from M. Marquet’s records lists of the visits of
+the three men, and that gentleman’s identification of the torn bill.
+Also he pressed him as to whether he could not remember any questions
+or conversations of the trio which might give him a hint as to their
+business, but without success. He saw and made a detailed search of
+the room Dangle had occupied during his last visit, but here again
+with no result. Dangle, M. Marquet said, had been out all day on the
+Wednesday, the day after his arrival, but on Thursday he had remained
+in the hotel until his departure about 2:00 P.M. M. Marquet had not
+seen him leave, but he had sent the waiter for his bill after
+déjeuner, and the proprietor believed he had gone a little later.
+Possibly the porter could give more information on the point.
+
+The porter was sent for and questioned. He knew M. Dangle well and
+recognized his photograph. He had been present in the hall when the
+gentleman left on the previous day, shortly before two o’clock. M.
+Dangle had walked out of the hotel with his suitcase in his hand,
+declining the porter’s offer to carry it for him or call a taxi. The
+trams, however, passed the door, and the porter had assumed M. Dangle
+intended to travel by that means. No, he had not noticed the direction
+he took. There was a “stillstand” or tramway halt close by. Dangle had
+not talked to the porter further than to wish him good-day when he met
+him. He had not asked questions, or given any hint of his business in
+the town.
+
+Following his usual procedure under such circumstances, French next
+asked for interviews with all those of the staff who had come in any
+way in contract with his quarry, but in spite of his most persistent
+efforts he could not extract a single item of information as to the
+man’s business or movements.
+
+Baffled and weary from his journey, French took his hat and went out
+in the hope that a walk through the streets of the fine old city would
+clear his brain and bring him the inspiration he needed. Crossing
+beneath the trees of the Place Verte, he passed round the cathedral to
+the small square from which he could look up at the huge bulk of the
+west front, with its two unequal towers, one a climbing marvel of
+decoration, “lace in stone,” the other unfinished, and topped with a
+small and evidently temporary spire. Then, promising himself a look
+round the interior before leaving the town, he regained the tramline
+from the Place Verte, and following it westwards, in two or three
+minutes came out on the great terraces lining the banks of the river.
+
+The first sight of the Scheldt was one which French felt he would not
+soon forget. Well on to half a mile wide, it bore away in both
+directions like a great highway leading from this little Belgium to
+the uttermost parts of the earth. Large ships lay at anchor in it, as
+well as clustering along the wharves to the south. This river frontage
+of wharves and sheds and cranes and great steamers extended as far as
+the eye could reach; he had read that it was three and a half miles
+long. And that excluded the huge docks for which the town was famous.
+As he strolled along he became profoundly impressed, not only with the
+size of the place, but more particularly with the attention which had
+been given to its artistic side. In spite of all this commercial
+activity the city did not look sordid. Thought had been given to its
+design; one might almost say loving care. Why, these very terraces on
+which he was walking, with their cafés and their splendid view of the
+river, were formed on neither more nor less than the vast roofs of the
+dock sheds. French, who knew most of the English ports, felt his
+amazement grow at every step.
+
+He followed the quays right across the town till he came to the Gare
+du Sud, then turning away from the river, he found himself in the
+Avenue du Sud. From this he worked back along the line of great
+avenues which had replaced the earlier fortifications, until
+eventually, nearly three hours after he had started, he once again
+turned into the Place Verte, and reached the Carillon.
+
+He ordered a room for the night, and some strong tea, after which he
+sat on in his secluded corner of the comfortable restaurant, and
+smoked a meditative cigar. His walk had done him good. His brain had
+cleared, and the weariness of the journey, and the chagrin of his
+deadlock had vanished. His thoughts returned to his problem, which he
+began to attack in the new.
+
+He puzzled over it for the best part of an hour, without making the
+slightest progress, and then he began to consider how far the ideas he
+had already arrived at fitted in with what he had since learned of
+Dangle’s movements.
+
+He had thought that the nature of the articles on Dangle’s list
+suggested a sea expedition. He remembered the delight with which, many
+years earlier, he had read _The Riddle of the Sands_, and he thought
+that had Dangle contemplated just such another cruise as that of the
+heroes of that fascinating book, he might well have got together the
+articles in question. But since these ideas had passed through his
+mind, French had learned the following fresh facts:
+
+1. From a fortnight after obtaining the tracing, Dangle had been
+paying frequent visits to Antwerp.
+
+2. He had on these occasions put up at the Carillon.
+
+3. His last visit had followed immediately on the failure to murder
+Cheyne, with its almost certain result of the calling in of Scotland
+Yard.
+
+4. He had on this last visit remained at the Carillon for two days,
+leaving about 2:00 P.M. on the Thursday, the previous day.
+
+5. He had carried his hand-bag from the hotel, without calling for a
+taxi.
+
+At first French could not see that these additional facts had any
+bearing on his theory, but as he continued turning them over in his
+mind, he realized that all but one might be interpreted as tending in
+the same direction.
+
+1. Dangle’s visits to Antwerp. Supposing Dangle had been planning some
+secret marine expedition, where, French asked himself, could he have
+found a more suitable base from which to make his arrangements?
+Antwerp was a seaport: moreover, it was a great seaport, large enough
+for a secret expedition to set sail from without attracting notice. It
+was a foreign port, away from the inquisitive notice of the British
+police, but, on the other hand, it was the nearest great port to
+London. If these considerations did not back up his theory, they at
+least did not conflict with it.
+
+2. Why had Dangle put up at the Carillon? The hotels near the station
+were the obvious ones for English visitors. Could it be because the
+Place Verte was close to the river and the shipping? This, French
+admitted to himself, sounded farfetched, and yet it might be the
+truth.
+
+3. The dispersal and disappearance of the gang immediately on the
+probability of its activities becoming known to the police looked
+suspiciously like a flight.
+
+4. Could it be that Dangle’s arrival in Antwerp was ahead of schedule,
+that is, the flight brought him there two days before the expedition
+was to start? Or could it be that on his arrival he immediately set to
+work to organize the departure, but was unable to complete his
+arrangements for two days? At least, it might be so.
+
+Lastly, had he carried his bag from the hotel for the same reason as
+he might have chosen the hotel: that he was going, not to the station,
+but the few hundred yards to the quays, thence to start on this
+maritime expedition? Again, it might be so.
+
+French was fully aware that the whole of these elaborate
+considerations had the actual stability of a house of cards. Each and
+every one of his deductions might be erroneous and the facts might be
+capable of an entirely different construction. Still, there was at
+least a suggestion that Dangle might have left Antwerp by water
+shortly after two o’clock on the previous day. It was the one
+constructive idea French could evolve, and he decided that in the
+absence of anything better he would try to follow it up.
+
+It was too late to do anything that night. After dinner, therefore, he
+had another walk, spent an hour in a cinema, and then went early to
+bed, so as to be fresh for his labors of the following day.
+
+
+
+Chapter XVII
+
+On the Flood Tide
+
+French was astir betimes next morning, and over his coffee and rolls
+and honey he laid his plans for the day. As to the next step of his
+investigation he had no doubt. He must begin by finding out what
+vessels had left the city after 2:00 P.M. on the previous Thursday.
+That done, he could go into the question of the passengers each
+carried, in the hope of learning that Dangle was among them.
+
+At the outset he was faced by the handicap of being a stranger in a
+strange land. If Antwerp had been an English port he would have known
+just where to get his information, but here he was unfamiliar with the
+ropes. He did not know if all sailings were published in any paper or
+available to the public at any office; moreover, his ignorance of both
+French and Flemish precluded his mixing with clerks or dock loafers
+from whom he might pick up information. Of course there were the
+Belgian police, but he did not wish to apply to them if he could carry
+out his job by himself.
+
+However, this part of his problem proved easier of solution than he
+had expected. Inquiries at the post office revealed the fact that
+there was a shipping agency in the Rue des Tanneurs, and soon he had
+reached the place, found a clerk who spoke English, and put his
+question.
+
+When French wished to be suave, as he usually did, he could, so to
+speak, have wheedled his best bone from a bulldog. Now, explaining in
+a friendly and confidential manner who he was and why he wanted the
+information, he begged the other’s good offices. The clerk, flattered
+at being thus courteously approached, showed a willingness to assist,
+with the result that in ten minutes French had the particulars he
+needed.
+
+He turned into a café, and calling for a bock, sat down to consider
+what he had learned. And of this the very first fact filled him with
+delight, as it seemed to fit in with the theory he had evolved.
+
+On Thursday it had been high water at 2:30 P.M. By 2:30 the dock gates
+had been opened, and it appeared that, taking advantage of this,
+several steamers had left shortly after that hour.
+
+This was distinctly encouraging, and French turned to the list of
+ships with a growing hope that the end of his investigation might be
+coming into sight. In all, eleven steamers had left the port on the
+day in question, between the hours of 2:00 and 6:00 P.M., the period
+he had included in his inquiry.
+
+There was first of all a Canadian Pacific liner, which had sailed from
+the quays at 3:00 P.M., and at 3:30 a small passenger boat had left
+for Oslo and Bergen. The remaining boats were tramps. There were four
+coasters, two for Newcastle, one for Goole, and one for Belfast, a
+6,000 tonner for Singapore and the Dutch Islands, another slightly
+smaller ship for Genoa and Spezia, and another for Boston, U.S.A. Then
+there was a big five-masted sailing ship, bound with a general cargo
+for Buenos Aires and the River Platte, and finally there was a small
+freighter in ballast for Casablanca.
+
+Of these eleven ships, the windjammer at once attracted French’s
+attention. Here was a vessel on which, if you took a passage, you
+might easily require three dozen tins of peaches before you reached
+your journey’s end. He determined to begin with this, taking the other
+ships in order according to the position of their offices. Fortunately
+in each case the clerk had given him the name of the owners or agents.
+
+His first call, therefore, was at an old-fashioned office in a small
+street close to the Steen Museum. There he saw M. Leblanc, the owner
+of the windjammer, and explained his business. But M. Leblanc could
+not help him. The old gentleman had never heard of Dangle nor had any
+one resembling his visitor’s photograph called or done any business
+with his firm. Moreover, no passengers had shipped on the windjammer,
+and the crew that had sailed was unchanged since the previous voyage.
+
+This was not encouraging, and French went on to the next item on his
+program, the headquarters of the small freighter which had sailed in
+ballast for Casablanca. She was owned by Messrs. Merkel & Lowenthal,
+whose office was farther down the Rue des Tanneurs, and five minutes
+later he had pushed open the door and was inquiring for the principal.
+
+This was a more modern establishment than that of M. Leblanc. Though
+small, the office ran to plate glass windows, teak furniture, polished
+brass fittings, and encaustic tiles, while the two typists he could
+envisage through the small inquiry window seemed unduly gorgeous as to
+raiment and pert as to demeanor.
+
+He was kept waiting for some minutes, then told that M. Merkel, the
+head of the business, was away, but that M. Lowenthal, the junior
+partner, would see him.
+
+His first glance told French that M. Lowenthal was a man to be
+watched. Seldom had he seen so many of the tell-tale signs of roguery
+concentrated in the features of one person. The junior partner had a
+mean, sly look, close-set, shifty eyes which would not meet French’s,
+and a large mouth with loose, fleshy lips. His manner was in accord
+with his appearance, now blustering, now almost fulsomely
+ingratiating. French took an instant dislike to him, and though he
+remained courteous as ever, he determined not to lay his cards on the
+table.
+
+“My name,” he began, “as you will have seen from my card, is French,
+and I carry out the business of a general agent in London. I am trying
+to obtain an interview with a friend, who has been staying here, off
+and on, for some time. I came on here from Brussels in the hope of
+seeing him, but he had just left. I was told that he had sailed with
+your ship, the _L’Escaut_, on Thursday afternoon, and if so I called
+to ask at which port I should be likely to get in touch with him. His
+name is Dangle.”
+
+While French spoke he watched the other narrowly, on his favorite
+theory that the involuntary replies to unexpected remarks—starts,
+changes of expression, sudden pallors—were more valuable than spoken
+answers.
+
+But M. Lowenthal betrayed no emotion other than a mild surprise.
+
+“That iss a very egstraordinary statement, sir,” he said in heavy
+guttural tones. “I do not really know who could haf given you such
+misleading information. Your friend’s name is quite unknown to me, and
+in any case we do not take passengers on our ships.”
+
+This seemed an entirely reasonable and proper reply, and yet to
+French’s highly developed instincts it did not ring true. However, he
+could do nothing more, and after a little further conversation
+containing not a few veiled inquiries, all of which, he noted, were
+skillfully parried by the other, he apologized for his mistake and
+withdrew.
+
+Though he was dissatisfied with the interview, he could only continue
+his program. He recognized that the secret might be located in Canada
+or the States, and that Dangle might have booked on the C.P.R. liner.
+Or he might have gone to Norway—indeed, for the matter of that, he
+might have signed on on any of the ships for any part of the world.
+
+But after a tedious morning of calls and interviews, French had to
+confess defeat. He could get no farther. At none of the offices at
+which he applied had he obtained the slightest helpful hint. It began
+to look as if he had been mistaken as to Dangle’s sea expedition, and
+if so, as he reminded himself with exasperation, he had no alternative
+theory to follow up.
+
+He strolled slowly along the pleasant, sunlit streets, as he reviewed
+his morning’s work. He was satisfied with all his interviews but the
+one. Everywhere save in M. Lowenthal’s office he felt he had been told
+the truth. But instinctively he distrusted the junior partner. That
+the man had lied to him he had no reason to suspect, but he had no
+doubt that he would do so if it suited his book.
+
+French felt that it was unsatisfactory to leave the matter in this
+state, and he presently thought of a simple subterfuge whereby it
+might be cleared up. It was almost the lunch hour, a suitable time for
+putting his project into operation. He hurried back to the Rue des
+Tanneurs, and turning into a café nearly opposite Messrs. Merkel &
+Lowenthal’s premises, ordered a bock and selected a seat from which he
+could observe the office door.
+
+He was only just in time. He had not taken his place five minutes when
+he saw M. Lowenthal emerge and walk off towards the center of the
+town. Three men clerks and the two rapid-looking typists followed, and
+lastly there appeared the person for whom he was waiting—the
+sharp-looking office boy who had attended to him earlier in the day.
+
+The boy turned off in the opposite direction to his principal—towards
+a quarter inhabited by laborers and artisans, and French, getting up
+from his table, slipped quietly out of the café and followed him.
+
+The chase continued for some ten minutes, when the quarry disappeared
+into a small house in a back street. French strolled up and down until
+some half an hour later the young fellow reappeared. As he approached
+French allowed a look of recognition and slight surprise to appear on
+his features.
+
+“Ah,” he said, pausing with a friendly smile, “you are the clerk who
+attended to me this morning in Messrs. Merkel & Lowenthal’s office,
+are you not? A piece of luck meeting you! I wonder if you could give
+me a piece of information? I forgot to ask it of M. Lowenthal this
+morning, and as I am in a hurry, it would be worth five francs to me
+not to have to go back to your office.”
+
+The youth’s eyes had brightened at the suggestion of financial
+dealings, and French felt he would learn all the other could tell him.
+He therefore continued without waiting for a reply.
+
+“The thing is this: I am joining my friend, M. Dangle, aboard the
+_L’Escaut_ at the first opportunity. It was arranged between us that
+one of us should take with him a couple of dozen of champagne. I want
+to know whether he took the stuff, or whether I am to. Can you help me
+at all?”
+
+The clerk’s English, though fairly good, was not quite equal to such a
+strain, and French had to repeat himself less idiomatically. But the
+boy grasped his meaning at last, and then at once dashed his hopes by
+saying he had never heard of any M. Dangle.
+
+“There he is,” French went on, producing his photograph. “You must
+have seen him scores of times.”
+
+And then French got the reward of his pertinacity. A look of
+recognition passed over the clerk’s features, and he made a gesture of
+comprehension.
+
+“_Mais oui, m’sieur_; yes, sir,” he answered quickly, “but that is not
+M. Danggalle. I know him: it is M. Charles.”
+
+“That’s right,” French returned, trying to keep the triumph out of his
+voice. “His name is Dangle Charles. I know him as M. Dangle, because
+he is one of four brothers at our works. But of course he would give
+his name here as M. Charles. But now, can you tell me anything about
+the champagne?”
+
+The clerk shook his head. He had not known upon what business M.
+Charles had called at the office.
+
+“Oh, well, it can’t be helped,” French declared. “I thought that
+perhaps when he was in with you last Wednesday you might have heard
+something about it. You don’t know what luggage he took aboard the
+_L’Escaut_?”
+
+The clerk had not been aware that M. Charles had embarked on the
+freighter, still less did he know of what his luggage had consisted.
+But as French talked on in his pleasant way, the following facts
+became apparent; first, that Dangle for some weeks past had been an
+occasional visitor at the shipping office; second, that on the
+previous Wednesday he had been closeted with the partners for the
+greater part of the day; third, that the _L’Escaut_ had evidently
+sailed on an expedition of considerable importance and length, for a
+vast deal of stores had gone aboard her, about which both partners had
+shown very keen anxiety; fourthly, that not only had M. Merkel, the
+senior partner, himself sailed on her, but it was likely that he
+intended to be away some time as M. Lowenthal had moved into his room,
+and lastly, that the _L’Escaut_ had come up from the firm’s yard
+during the Wednesday night and had anchored in the river off the Steen
+until she left about 3:00 P.M. on the Thursday.
+
+These admissions made it abundantly clear that French was once more on
+the right track, and he handed over his five francs with the feeling
+that he had made the cheapest bargain of his life.
+
+He had no doubt that Dangle had sailed with the senior partner on the
+tramp, but he felt he must make sure, and he walked slowly back
+towards the quays, turning over in his mind possible methods for
+settling the point. One inquiry seemed promising. If the ship had lain
+at anchor out in the river, and if Dangle had gone aboard her, he must
+have had a boat to do so. French wondered could he find that boat.
+
+He felt himself held up by the language difficulty. Up to the present
+he had had extraordinary luck in this respect, but then up to the
+present he had been interviewing educated persons whose business
+brought them in contact with foreigners. He doubted if he could make
+boatmen and loafers about the quays understand what he wanted.
+
+A trial convinced him that his fears were well founded, and he lost a
+solid hour in finding the Berlitz School and engaging a young linguist
+with a reputation for discretion. Then, accompanied by M. Jules
+Renard, he returned to the quays and set systematically to work. He
+began by inquiring where boats might be hired, and where there were
+steps at which ships’ boats might come alongside. Taking these in turn
+he asked had the boatmen taken a passenger out to the _L’Escaut_
+between 2:00 and 3:00 P.M. on the previous Thursday? Or had the
+loafer, stevedore, shunter, or constable, as the case might be,
+noticed if a boat had come ashore from the same vessel on the same
+date and at the same time?
+
+Though the work was easy it bade fair to be tedious, and therefore for
+more than one reason French felt a glow of satisfaction when at his
+fourth inquiry his question received an affirmative answer. A wizened
+old man, one of a small knot of longshoremen whom M. Renard addressed,
+separated himself from his companions and came forward. He said that
+he was a boatman, and that he had been hailed by a man—an Englishman,
+he believed—at the time stated, and had rowed him out to the ship.
+
+“Ask him if that’s the man,” French directed, producing Dangle’s
+photograph, though he felt there could be no doubt as to the reply.
+
+He was therefore immensely dashed when the boatman shook his head.
+This was not the man at all. The traveler was a short, rather stout
+man with a small fair mustache.
+
+French gasped. The description sounded familiar. Taking out
+Blessington’s photograph he passed it over.
+
+This time the boatman nodded. Yes, that was the man he had rowed out.
+He had no doubt of him whatever.
+
+This was unexpected but most welcome news, though as French thought
+over it, he saw that it was not so surprising after all. If Dangle was
+in it, why not Blessington, and for the matter of that, why not Sime
+also? In this case he wondered where Susan could be, and more acutely,
+what had been the fate of Joan Merrill. Possibly, he thought, his
+inquiries about Dangle would solve these questions also.
+
+Half an hour later he struck oil for the second time. Another boatman,
+a little further along the quays, had also rowed a passenger out to
+the _L’Escaut_, and this one, it appeared, was Dangle. But though
+French kept working steadily away, he could hear nothing of Sime.
+
+In the end it was a suggestion of Renard’s that put him once more on
+the trail. The interpreter proved an intelligent youth, and when he
+had grasped the point at issue, he stopped and pointed to the river.
+
+“You say, monsieur, that the sheep, she lie there, opposite the Musée
+Steen, is it not so? _Bon!_ We haf walked along all the quays near to
+that. Your friends would not haf hired boat from farther on—it is too
+far. You say, too, they come from England secretly, is it not? _Bon!_
+They would come to the other side.”
+
+French did not understand.
+
+“The other side?” he repeated questioningly.
+
+“But yes, monsieur, the other side.” The young fellow’s eyes flashed
+in his eagerness. “Over there, La Gare de Waes.” He pointed out across
+the great stream to its west bank.
+
+“I didn’t know there was a station across there,” French admitted.
+“Where does the line go to?”
+
+“Direct to Ghent. Your friends change trains at Ghent. It is a quiet
+railway. They come unseen.”
+
+“Good man,” said French heartily. “We’ll go and find out. How do you
+get to the blessed place?”
+
+M. Renard smiled delightedly.
+
+“Ah yes, monsieur. You weesh to cross? Is it not?” he cried. “This
+way. We take ferry from the Quai Van Dyck. It is near.”
+
+Half an hour later they had reached the Tête de Flandre—the low-lying
+western bank of the Scheldt. It bore a small but not unpicturesque
+cluster of old-fashioned houses, nestling about one of the historic
+Antwerp forts. Renard, now apparently quite as interested in the chase
+as French, led the way along the river bank from boatman to boatman,
+with the result that before very many minutes had passed French had
+obtained the information he wanted.
+
+It appeared that about 1:00 P.M. on the day in question, a strapping
+young boatman had noticed three strangers approaching from the
+direction of the Waes Station, a hundred yards or more distant. They
+consisted of a tall, clean-shaven man of something under middle age
+and two women, both young. One was tall and strongly made and dark as
+to hair and eyes, the other was slighter and with red gold hair. The
+smaller one seemed to be ill, and was stumbling along between the
+other two, each of whom supported her by an arm. None of the trio
+could speak French or Flemish, but they managed by signs to convey the
+information that they wanted to be put on board the _L’Escaut_, which
+was lying out in midstream. The man had rowed them out, and they had
+been received on board by an elderly gentleman with a dark beard.
+
+Further questions produced the information that the fair lady appeared
+to be seriously ill, though whether it was her mind or body that was
+affected, the boatman couldn’t be sure. She was able to walk, but
+would not do so unless urged on by the others. She had not spoken or
+taken any interest in the journey. She had not appeared even to look
+round her, but had sat gazing listlessly at nothing, with a vacant
+expression in her eyes. Her companions had had real difficulty in
+getting her up the short ladder on to the _L’Escaut’s_ deck.
+
+The news was rather unexpected to French. About Joan Merrill it was
+both disconcerting and reassuring; the former because he could not see
+that the gang had anything but a sinister reason for inveigling the
+young girl aboard the ship—probably she will fall overboard at night,
+he thought; the latter because she was at least still alive, or had
+been two days ago. It was quite evident that she was drugged, probably
+with morphine or something similar. It might, however, mean that while
+wishing Joan no harm, they were taking her with them on their
+expedition to insure her silence as to their movements.
+
+As French returned across the ferry, he kept on puzzling as to
+Lowenthal’s position. Could Lowenthal be arrested? Was he in league
+with the gang? If so, could he be held responsible for the abduction
+of Joan Merrill? French didn’t think the evidence would justify
+drastic measures. He had, as a matter of fact, no actual evidence
+against Lowenthal. Of his complicity he was satisfied, but he doubted
+if he could prove it.
+
+He got rid of the young interpreter, and strolling slowly along the
+quays, thought the matter out. No, he had not a enough case with which
+to go to the Belgian police. But he could do the next best thing. He
+could call on M. Lowenthal for the second time, and try to bluff an
+admission out of him.
+
+As he walked to the Rue des Tanneurs, he felt his prospects were not
+rosy. But at least he had no difficulty in obtaining his interview. M.
+Lowenthal seemed surprised to see him so soon again, but received him
+politely, and asked what he could do for him.
+
+“I want to ask you another question, M. Lowenthal, if you please,”
+French answered in his pleasantest manner, “and first I must tell you
+that the agency I hold is that of Detective Inspector at New Scotland
+Yard in London. My question is this: When you and M. Merkel entered
+into relations with Blessington, Sime, and the Dangles, did you know
+that they were dangerous criminals wanted by the English police?”
+
+In spite of the most evident efforts for self-control, Lowenthal was
+so much taken aback that he could not for some moments speak. His
+swarthy face turned a greenish hue and little drops of sweat showed on
+his forehead. To the other pleasant characteristics with which French
+had mentally endowed him, he now added that of coward, and his hopes
+of his bluff succeeding grew brighter. He sat waiting in silence for
+the other to recover himself, then said suavely:
+
+“After that, M. Lowenthal, you will see for yourself that you cannot
+plead ignorance of the affair. Let me advise you for your own sake to
+be open with me.”
+
+The man pulled himself together. He wiped his brow as he replied
+earnestly, but in somewhat shaky accents:
+
+“That I haf met Blessington, Sime, and Dangle I do not deny, though
+they were Merkel’s friends—not mine. But I do not know that they are
+criminal. Dangle, he called here and asked Merkel to take him on the
+next”—he hesitated for a word—“next work, next sail of the sheep.
+Merkel said that Dangle iss a writer—he writes books. He weeshed to
+see the sail to Casablanca to deescribe it in hiss book. Merkel said
+he would haf to pay fare, the firm could not afford it unless. Dangle
+agreed. Merkel was going himself, and Dangle suggested Sime and
+Blessington go also to make party—to play cards. Of a second Dangle I
+know nothing. They went secretly—I admit it—because the law forbids to
+take passengers for sail without a certificate. That is all of the
+affair.”
+
+Not a single word of this statement did French believe, but he saw
+that unless he could get some further information, or surprise this
+Lowenthal into some more damaging admission, he could not have him
+arrested. After all, the story hung together. Merkel might conceivably
+be playing his own game, and have pitched the yarn of the author out
+for copy to his partner. The contravention of the shipping laws would
+undoubtedly account for the secrecy with which the start was made.
+Certainly there was no evidence to bring before a jury.
+
+French proceeded to question the junior partner with considerable
+thoroughness, but he could not shake his statement. The only
+additional facts he learned were that the _L’Escaut_ was going to
+Casablanca on the order of the Moroccan Government to load up a cargo
+of agricultural samples for the Italian market, and that M. Merkel was
+accompanying it simply as a holiday trip.
+
+With this French had to be content, and he went to the post office,
+and got through on the long distance telephone to his chief at the
+Yard. To him he repeated the essentials of the tale, asking him to
+inquire from the Moroccan authorities as to the truth of their portion
+of it, as well as to endeavor to trace the _L’Escaut_.
+
+On leaving the post office, it occurred to him that communication with
+the _L’Escaut_ should be possible by wireless, and he returned to the
+Rue des Tanneurs to ascertain this point. There he was told that just
+after he had left M. Lowenthal had received a telephone call,
+requiring his immediate presence in Holland, and he had with a great
+rush caught the afternoon express for the Dutch capital.
+
+“Skedaddled, by Jove!” said French to himself. “Guess that lets in the
+Belgian police.”
+
+He called at headquarters, and saw the officer in charge, and before
+he left to catch the connection for London, it had been arranged that
+the movements of the junior partner should be gone into, and a watch
+kept for the return of that enterprising weaver of fairy tales.
+
+
+
+Chapter XVIII
+
+A Visitor from India
+
+When French reached Victoria, the first person he saw on the platform
+was Maxwell Cheyne.
+
+“They told me at the Yard that you might be on this train,” the young
+man said excitedly as he elbowed his way forward. “Any news? Anything
+about Miss Merrill?”
+
+He looked old and worn, and it was evident that his anxiety was
+telling on him. In his eagerness he could scarcely wait for the
+Inspector to dismount from his carriage, and his loud tones were
+attracting curious looks from the bystanders.
+
+“Get a taxi,” French answered quietly. “We can talk there.”
+
+A few seconds later they found a vehicle, and Cheyne, gripping the
+other by the arm, went on earnestly:
+
+“Tell me. I can see you have learned something. Is she—all right?”
+
+“I got news of her on Thursday last. She was all right then, though
+still under the influence of a drug. The whole party has gone to sea.”
+
+“To sea?”
+
+“Yes, to sea in a small tramp. I don’t know what they are up to, but
+there is no reason to suppose Miss Merrill is otherwise than well.
+Probably they took her with them to prevent her giving them away. They
+would drug her to get her to go along, but would cease it as soon as
+she was on board. I wired for inquiries to be made at the different
+signal stations, and news may be waiting for us at the Yard.”
+
+A few seconds sufficed to put Cheyne in possession of the salient
+facts which French had learned, and the latter in his turn asked for
+news.
+
+“By Jove, yes!” Cheyne cried, “there is news. You remember that Arnold
+Price had disappeared? Well, yesterday I had a letter from him!”
+
+“You don’t say so?” French rejoined in surprise. “Where did he write
+from?”
+
+“Bombay. He was shortly leaving for home. He expects to be here in
+about a month.”
+
+“And what about his disappearance?”
+
+“He was ill in hospital. He had gone up to Agra on some private
+business and met with an accident—was knocked down in the street and
+was insensible for ages. He couldn’t say who he was, and the hospital
+people in Agra couldn’t find out, and he hadn’t told the Bombay people
+where he was going to spend his leave.”
+
+“Did he mention the letter?”
+
+“Yes, he thanked me for taking charge of it and said that when he
+reached home he would relieve me of further trouble about it. He
+little knows!”
+
+“That’s so,” French assented.
+
+Their taxi had been held up by a block at the end of Westminster
+Bridge, but now the mass cleared and in a few seconds they reached the
+Yard.
+
+French’s first care was to get rid of Cheyne. He repeated what he had
+learned about Joan Merrill, then, assuring him that the key of the
+matter lay in the cipher, he advised him to go home and try it once
+more. Directly any more news came in he would let him know.
+
+Cheyne having reluctantly taken his departure, French made inquiries
+as to what had been done in reference to his telephone from Antwerp.
+It appeared that the Yard had not been idle. In the first place an
+application had been made to the Moroccan Government, who had replied
+that no ship had been chartered by them for freight at Casablanca, nor
+was anything known of agricultural samples for the Italian market.
+Lowenthal’s story must therefore have been an absolute fabrication. He
+had, however, told it so readily that French suspected it had been
+made up beforehand, so as to be ready to serve up to any inquisitive
+policeman or detective who might come along.
+
+Next Lloyd’s had been approached, as to the direction the _L’Escaut_
+had taken, and a reply had shortly before come in from them. It stated
+that up to noon on that day, the vessel had not been reported from any
+of their stations. But this, French realized, might not mean so much.
+If she had gone south down the English Channel it would have been well
+on to dark before she reached the Straits of Dover. In any case, had
+she wished to slip through unseen, she had only to keep out to the
+middle of the passage, when in ordinary weather she would have been
+invisible from either coast. On the other hand, had she gone north,
+she would almost naturally have kept out of sight of land. It was true
+that in either case she would have been likely to pass some other
+vessel which would have spoken her, and the fact that no news of such
+a recognition had come to hand seemed to indicate that she was taking
+some unusual course out of the track of regular shipping.
+
+French wired this information to the Antwerp police, and then, his
+chief being disengaged, went in and gave him a detailed account of his
+adventures in Belgium.
+
+Chief Inspector Mitchell was impressed by the story. He sat back in
+his chair and treated French to a prolonged stare as the latter
+talked. At the end of the recital he remained sitting motionless for
+some moments, whistling gently below his breath.
+
+“Any theories?” he said at last.
+
+French shook his head.
+
+“Well, no, sir,” he answered slowly. “It’s not easy to see what
+they’re after. And it’s not easy to see, either, why the whole gang
+wanted to go. It looked at first as if they were just clearing out
+because of Cheyne’s coming to the Yard, but it’s more than that. The
+arrangements were made too long ago. They have been dealing with that
+Antwerp firm for several weeks.”
+
+“The hard copper was all a story?”
+
+“Looks like it, sir. As a matter of fact every single statement those
+men made that could be tested has been proved false. Even when there
+didn’t seem any great object in a yarn they pitched it. Lies seemed to
+come easier to them.”
+
+“Well, I’ve known a good few cases of that, and so have you, French.
+It’s a habit that grows. Now, what’s your next move?”
+
+French hesitated.
+
+“For the moment the outlook’s not very cheery,” he said at last. “All
+the same I can’t believe that boat can go away out of the Scheldt and
+disappear. In my judgment she’s bound to be reported before long, and
+I’m looking forward to getting word of her within the next day or so.
+Then I have no doubt that the tracing is some kind of cipher, and if
+we could read it we should probably get light on the whole affair.”
+
+“Why shouldn’t you read it? Try it again.”
+
+“I intend to, sir. But I don’t hope for much result, because I don’t
+believe we’ve got the genuine document. I don’t believe they would
+have handed it, nor a copy of it either, to a man they intended to
+murder, lest it should be found on his body. I’d state long odds they
+gave him a fake.”
+
+“I think you’re probably right,” the chief admitted. “Try at all
+events. You never know your luck.”
+
+He bent over his desk, and French, realizing that the interview had
+come to an end, quietly left the room. Then, seeing there was nothing
+requiring his attention urgently, and tired after his journey, he went
+home.
+
+But contrary to his expectations, the next day passed without any news
+of the _L’Escaut_, and the next, and many days after that. Nor could
+all his efforts with the tracing throw any light on that mysterious
+document. As time passed he began to grow more and more despondent,
+and the fear that he was going to make a mess of the case grew
+steadily stronger. In vain he laid his difficulties before his wife.
+For once that final source of inspiration failed him. Mrs. French did
+not take even one illuminating notion. When the third week had gone
+by, something akin to despair seized upon the Inspector. The only
+possibility of hope now seemed to lie in the return of Arnold Price,
+and French began counting the days until his arrival.
+
+One night about three weeks after his return from Belgium he settled
+down with a cigar after dinner, his thoughts running in their familiar
+groove: What were these people engaged on? Was there any way in which
+he could find out? Had he overlooked any evidence or any inquiries?
+Had he neglected any possible line of research?
+
+The more he considered the affair in all its bearings, the more
+conscious he became of the soundness of the advice he had given to
+Cheyne, and which in his turn he had received from his chief.
+Unquestionably in the tracing lay the solution he required, and once
+again he racked his brains to see if he could not by any means devise
+a way to read its message.
+
+On this point he concentrated, going over and over again everything he
+had learned about it. For perhaps an hour he remained motionless in
+his chair, while the smoke from his cigar curled up and slowly
+dissolved into the blue haze with which the room was becoming
+obscured. And then suddenly he sat up and with a dawning, tremulous
+eagerness considered an idea which had just leaped into his mind.
+
+He had suddenly remembered a statement made by Cheyne when he was
+giving his first rather incoherent account of his adventures. The
+young man said that it had been arranged between himself and Joan
+Merrill that if either were lucky enough to get the tracing into his
+or her possession, the first thing he or she would do would be to
+photograph it. Now, in juxtaposition with that statement, French
+recalled the facts, first, that Joan must have reached her flat on the
+night of her abduction at least several minutes before Blessington and
+Sime arrived with their car; and secondly, that during those minutes
+she had the tracing with her—the genuine tracing, as there was every
+reason to believe. _Had Joan photographed it?_
+
+French was overwhelmed with amazement and chagrin at his failure to
+think of this point before, nor could he acquit Cheyne of a like
+astounding stupidity. For himself he felt there was no excuse
+whatever. He had even specially noticed the girl’s camera and the
+flashlight apparatus which she used for her architectural details when
+he was searching her rooms, but he had then, and since then up till
+this moment, entirely and completely forgotten the arrangement made
+between the partners.
+
+Late as it was, French decided to go then and there to ascertain the
+point. The key of Joan’s flat was at the Yard, and twenty minutes
+later he had obtained it and was in a taxi bowling towards Horne
+Terrace.
+
+He kept the vehicle while he ran up the ten flights to No. 12 and
+secured the camera. Then hastening down, he was driven back to the
+Yard.
+
+By a piece of good luck he found a photographer who had been delayed
+by other important work, and him he pressed into the service
+forthwith. With some grumbling the man returned to his dark room.
+French, too eager to await his report, accompanying him.
+
+A few moments sufficed to settle the question. The camera contained a
+roll of films of which the first seven had been exposed, and a short
+immersion in the developer showed that numbers 5, 6, and 7 bore the
+hoped for impress.
+
+Gone was French’s despondency and the weariness caused by his heavy
+day, and instead he was once more the embodiment of enthusiasm and
+cheery optimism. He had it now! At last the secret was within his
+grasp! Of his ability to read the message, now that he was sure he had
+the genuine one, he had no doubt. He had always liked working out
+ciphers, and since he had succeeded in extracting the hidden meaning
+from the stock and share list which had been sent to the elusive Mrs.
+X in the Gething murder case, his belief in his own powers had become
+almost an obsession. He could hardly restrain his eagerness to get to
+grips with this new problem until the negatives should be dry and
+prints made.
+
+The photographer was able to promise these for the following day, and
+till then French had to possess his soul in patience. But on his
+return from lunch he found on his desk three excellent prints of the
+document.
+
+They were only half-plate size, or about one-third that of the tracing
+which had been given to Cheyne. He therefore instructed the
+photographer to prepare enlargements which would bring the document up
+to more nearly the size of the original. These were ready before it
+was time for him to leave for home, and he sat down with
+ill-controlled excitement to compare them with the document at which
+he had already spent so much time.
+
+And then he suddenly experienced one of the most bitter
+disappointments of his life. To all intents and purposes the two were
+the same! There were the same circles, the same numbers, letters, and
+signs enclosed therein, the same phrase, “England expects every man to
+do his duty,” spaced round in the same way! The tracing had not been
+very accurately done, as some of the circles seemed slightly out of
+place, but the discrepancies were trifling, and seemed obviously due
+to careless copying. He gave vent to a single bitter oath, then sat
+motionless, wrapped in the most profound gloom.
+
+He took tracing and photographs home with him, and spent the greater
+part of the evening making a minute comparison between the two. The
+enlargement unfortunately was not exactly the same size as the
+tracing, and he therefore began his work by covering the surfaces of
+both with proportionate squares.
+
+Taking the tracing first he drew parallel lines one inch apart both up
+and down it and across, thus covering its whole surface with inch
+squares. Then he divided the prints into the same number of equal
+parts both vertically and horizontally and ruled them up in squares
+also. These squares were slightly smaller than the others—about
+seven-eighths of an inch only—but relatively the lines fell on each in
+the same positions. A comparison according to the squares thus showed
+at a glance similarity or otherwise between the two documents.
+
+As he examined them in detail certain interesting facts began to
+emerge. The general appearance, the words “England expects every man
+to do his duty,” and the circles with their attendant letters and
+numbers were identical on both sheets. But there were striking
+variations. The position of certain of the circles was different.
+Those containing numbers and crooked lines were all slightly out of
+place, while those containing letters remained unmoved. Moreover, the
+little crooked lines, while preserving a rough resemblance to the
+originals, were altered in shape. The more he considered the matter
+the more evident it became to French that these divergences were
+intentional. The tracing which had been given to Cheyne was intended
+to resemble the other superficially—and did so resemble it, but it had
+clearly been faked to make it valueless.
+
+[Illustration: A full-page image of dozens of circles. Their
+arrangement appears to be random. Most circles contains either a
+letter or a number, with the numbers ranging from 1 to 36. Eight or
+nine circles instead contain a short, irregularly-shaped line. Words
+are placed in between the circles, arranged in a loop through the
+entire image, reading clockwise “England expects every man to do his
+duty”.]
+
+If French were right so far, and he had but little doubt of it, it
+followed that the essential feature of the circles and crooked lines
+was position. This, he felt, should be a useful hint, but as yet he
+could not see where it led.
+
+He pondered fruitlessly over the problem till the small hours, and
+next morning he took the documents back to the Yard to continue his
+studies. But he did not have an opportunity to do so. Other work was
+waiting for him. To his delight he found that Arnold Price had reached
+home, and that he and Cheyne were waiting to see him.
+
+Price proved to be a lanky and rather despondent-looking individual
+with a skin burned to the color of copper and a pair of exceedingly
+shrewd blue eyes. He dropped into the chair French indicated, and
+instantly pulled out and lit a well-blackened cutty pipe.
+
+“Got in yesterday morning,” he announced laconically, “and wired
+Torquay I was going down. By the merest luck I got a reply before I
+started that Cheyne was in town. I looked him up and here I am.”
+
+French smiled pleasantly. Though interested in the man, he could not
+help noting with some amusement at once the restraint and the
+completeness of his statement. How refreshing, he thought, and how
+rare, to meet some one who will give you the pith of a story without
+frills!
+
+“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Price,” he said cordially. “I suppose Mr.
+Cheyne has told you the effect that your letter has had on us all?”
+
+The other nodded.
+
+“Not altogether surprising,” he declared. “There’s money in the
+thing—or so I always believed, and this other crowd must believe it
+too; though how they got on to the affair licks me.”
+
+“We shall be very much interested to hear what you can tell us about
+it,” French prompted. “Will you smoke, Mr. Cheyne?” He held out his
+cigar case.
+
+“I can’t tell you much,” Price returned, “and nothing that will clear
+up this blessed mystery that seems to have started up. But this is my
+story for what it’s worth. Before the war I was on one of the Hudson
+and Spence boats and I had the luck to get into the R.N.R. when
+hostilities broke out. I stayed on in my old ship till she was
+torpedoed a couple of years later, then I was appointed third officer
+on the _Maurania_. We were on a trip from South Africa to Brest with
+army stores, when one day, just as we came into the English Channel,
+we were attacked by a U-boat. We had an 18-pounder forward, and by a
+stroke of luck we gave old Fritz one on the knob that did him in. The
+boat went down and a dozen of the crew were left swimming. We put out
+a boat and picked one or two of them up. The skipper was clinging on
+to a lifebelt, but just as we came up he let go and began to sink. I
+was in charge of the boat, and some fool notion came over me—I think
+in the hurry I forgot he was a U-boat skipper—but anyhow like a fool I
+got overboard and got hold of him. It was nothing like a dramatic
+rescue—there was no danger to me—and we were back on board inside
+fifteen minutes.”
+
+French and Cheyne were listening intently to this familiar story. So
+far it was almost word for word that told by Dangle. Apparently, then,
+there was at least one point on which the latter had told the truth.
+
+“We weren’t out of trouble,” Price resumed, “and next day we came up
+against another submarine. We exchanged a few shots and then a British
+destroyer came up and drove him off. But I had the luck to stop a
+splinter of shell, and when we got to Brest I was sent to hospital.
+The U-boat skipper had got a crack on the head when his boat went
+down, and he was sent in too. By a chance we got side by side beds in
+the same ward, and used to talk a bit, though he was a rotter, even
+for a Boche.”
+
+Price paused to draw on his cutty pipe, expelling great clouds of
+smoke of a peculiarly acrid and penetrating quality. Then, the others
+not speaking, he went on:
+
+“It turned out that the wound on Schulz’s head—his name was Schulz—was
+serious, and he grew steadily worse. Then one night when the ward was
+quiet, he woke me and said he knew his number was up and that he had a
+secret to tell me. We listened, but all the other fellows seemed
+asleep, and then he told me he could put me in the way of a
+fortune—that he had hoped to get it himself after the war, but now
+that it would be a job for someone else. He said he would tell me the
+whole thing, and that I might make what I could out of it, if only I
+would pledge myself to give one-eighth of what I got to his wife. He
+gave me the address—somewhere in Breslau. He asked me to swear this
+and I did, and then he took a packet from under his pillow and handed
+it to me. ‘There,’ he said, ‘the whole thing’s there. I put it in
+cipher for safety, but I’ll tell you how to read it.’ Well, he began
+to do so, but just then a sister came in, and he shut up till she
+would leave. But the excitement of talking about the thing must have
+been too much for him. He got a weak turn and never spoke again.”
+
+“But,” Cheyne interposed, “what about the hard copper? Dangle told us
+about Schulz’s discovery.”
+
+Price gazed at him vacantly for some moments and then suddenly smote
+the table.
+
+“I’ve got it!” he cried with an oath. “Dangle! I remember that chap
+now! He was in the next bed on the other side of Schulz. That’s right!
+I couldn’t call him to mind when you mentioned him before. Of course!
+He heard the whole tale, and that’s what started him on this do.”
+
+“I know,” Cheyne returned. “He admitted that all right. But he told us
+about the hard copper. You haven’t mentioned that.”
+
+Price shook his head.
+
+“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he declared. “What do you mean
+by hard copper?”
+
+“Dangle mentioned it. He was listening to the conversation. He told us
+all that about Schulz’s story of the fortune, and about his wife and
+all that, just as you have, but he said Schulz went on to explain what
+the fortune was: that he had hit on a way of treating copper that made
+it as hard as steel. The cipher contained the formula.”
+
+Again Price shook his head.
+
+“All spoof,” he observed. “Not a word of truth in it. Schulz never
+mentioned copper or said anything more than I’ve told you.”
+
+French spoke for the first time.
+
+“We found this Dangle a man of imagination, all through, and it is
+easy to see why he invented that particular yarn. By that time he had
+undoubtedly read the cipher, and he wanted something to mislead Mr.
+Cheyne as to its contents. The story of the hard copper would start a
+bias in Mr. Cheyne’s mind which would tend to keep him off the real
+scent.” He paused, but his companions not speaking, continued: “Now we
+have that bias cleared away, at least one interesting fact emerges.
+The whole business starts with the sea—the U-boat commander, Schulz,
+and it looks as if it was going to end up with the sea, the tramp, the
+_L’Escaut_.”
+
+As French said these words an idea flashed into his mind, and he went
+on deliberately, but with growing excitement:
+
+“And when we connect the idea of a U-boat commander giving a message
+which ends with a sea expedition, with the fact, which I have just
+discovered, that the essence of his cipher is the _position_ of the
+markings on it, we seem to be getting somewhere.”
+
+Price smote his thigh.
+
+“By Jemima!” he cried. “I’ve got you. That blessed tracing is a map!”
+
+“A map, yes. That’s what I think,” French answered eagerly, and then
+as suddenly he saw the possible significance of Nelson’s exhortation,
+he went on dramatically: “A map of England!”
+
+Cheyne swore softly.
+
+“My word, if we aren’t a set of blithering idiots!” he exclaimed. “Of
+course! ‘England’ is the title. That’s as clear as day! The other
+words are added as a blind. Let’s have the thing out, Inspector, and
+see if we can’t make something of it now.”
+
+As French produced his enlarged photographs not one of the three men
+doubted that they were at last well on the way towards wresting the
+secret from the document which had so long baffled them.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIX
+
+The Message of the Tracing
+
+Inspector French spread the photograph on his desk, and Cheyne and
+Price having drawn up chairs, all three gazed at it as if expecting
+that in the light of their great idea its message would have become
+obvious.
+
+But in this they were disappointed. The suggestion did not seem in any
+way to help either French or Cheyne, and Price, who of course had not
+seen the document before, was satisfactorily mystified. Granted that
+the thing was a map, granted even that it was a map of England, its
+meaning remained just as provokingly hidden as ever.
+
+Presently Price gave vent to an exclamation. “Hang it all!” he cried
+irritably, and then: “I suppose those numbers couldn’t be soundings?
+Could they give depths at the circles?”
+
+“That’s an idea,” Cheyne cried, but French shook his head.
+
+“I think there’s more in it than that,” he observed. “If you examine
+those numbers you’ll find that they’re consecutive, they run from one
+to thirty-six. Soundings wouldn’t lend themselves to such an
+arrangement. You may be right, Mr. Price, and we must keep your idea
+in view, but I don’t see it working out for the moment.”
+
+Silence reigned for a few moments, then Price sat back from the table
+and spoke again.
+
+“Look here, Inspector,” he said, knocking the ashes out of his pipe
+and beginning to fill it with his strong, black mixture, “you said
+something just now I didn’t quite follow. Let’s get your notion clear.
+You talked of this thing beginning with the sea—at Schulz, and ending
+with the sea—at _L’Escaut_, and Schulz’s message being a map. Just
+what was in your mind?”
+
+“Only the obvious suggestion that if you leave a message which
+provokes an expedition, you must also convey in your message the
+destination of that expedition, and a map seems the simplest way of
+doing it. But on second thoughts I question my first conclusion. There
+must be an explanation of the secret as well as a direction of how to
+profit by it, and it would seem to me doubtful that such an
+explanation could be covered by a map.”
+
+“Sounds all right, that,” Price admitted. “Have you any idea what the
+secret might be? Sounds like treasure or salvage or something of that
+kind.”
+
+“I scarcely think salvage,” French answered. “The _L’Escaut_ is not a
+salvage boat, and a boat not specially fitted for the purpose would be
+of little use. But I thought of treasure all right. This Schulz might
+have robbed his ships—there would always be money aboard, and even
+during the war many women traveled with jewelry. The man might easily
+have made a cache of valuables somewhere round the coast.”
+
+“Easily,” Cheyne intervened, “or he might have learned of some
+valuable deposit in some out of the way cove round the coast, like
+those chaps in that clinking tale of Maurice Drake’s, _WO₂_.”
+
+“As at Terneuzen?” said French. “I read that book—one of the best I
+ever came across. It’s a possibility, of course.”
+
+The talk here became somewhat rambling, Price not having read _WO₂_
+and wanting to know what it was about, but French soon reverted to his
+photograph. He reminded his hearers that they were all interested in
+its elucidation. Miss Merrill’s safety, his own professional credit,
+Cheyne’s peace of mind, and Price’s fortune, all were at stake.
+
+“We have,” he went on, “evolved the idea that perhaps this tracing may
+be a map of England. On further thought that suggestion does not seem
+promising, but as we have no other let us work on it. Assume it is a
+map of England, and let us see if it leads us anywhere.” There were
+murmurs of assent from his hearers, and he continued: “Now it seems to
+me the first thing to do is to try if we can fit these circles and
+lines into the map of England. Is there anything corresponding to them
+in English geography?”
+
+No one being able to answer this query, French went on:
+
+“I think we must distinguish between the letter circles on the one
+hand and those of the numbers and lines on the other. The position of
+the former was not altered in the faked copy; that of the latter was.
+From this may we not assume that the message lies in the numbers and
+lines only? Possibly the letters were added as a blind, as we have
+already assumed the words ‘expects every man to do his duty’ were
+added as a blind to ‘England.’ Suppose at all events that we eliminate
+the letter circles and concentrate on the others for our first
+effort?”
+
+“That sounds all right.”
+
+“Good. Then let us go a step further. Have you noticed the
+distribution of the numbers, letters and lines? The numbers are
+bunched, roughly speaking, towards the center, the letters round the
+edge, and the irregular lines between the two. Does this central mass
+give us anything?”
+
+“I get you,” Price replied. He had risen and begun to pace the room,
+but now he returned to the table and stood looking down at the
+photograph. “You know, as a matter of fact,” he went on slowly, “if,
+as you say, you take that central part which contains numbers only,
+the shape of the thing is not so very unlike England after all.
+Suppose the numbers represent land and the letters sea. Then this
+patch of letters in the top left-hand corner might be the Irish Sea,
+and this larger patch to the right the North Sea. And look, the letter
+circles form a band across the bottom. What price that for the English
+Channel?”
+
+French crossed the room, and taking a small atlas from a shelf, opened
+it at the map of England and laid it down beside the photograph. With
+a rising excitement all three compared them. Then Cheyne burst out
+irritably:
+
+“Confound the thing! It’s like it and it’s not like it. Let’s draw a
+line round those number circles and see if it makes anything like the
+shape.” He seized the photograph and took out a pencil.
+
+But just as in the scientific and industrial worlds discoveries and
+inventions seldom come singly, so among these three men the begetting
+of ideas begot more ideas. Scarcely had Cheyne spoken when French made
+a little gesture of comprehension.
+
+“I believe I have it at last,” he said quietly but with ill-concealed
+eagerness in his tones. “Those irregular lines in certain of the
+circles are broken bits of the coast line. See here, those two between
+8 and U are surely the Wash, and that below H is Flamborough Head.
+Let’s see if we can locate correspondingly shaped outlines on the
+atlas, and fill in between those on the photograph with pencil.”
+
+A few seconds’ examination only were needed. Opposite, but slightly
+above the projection which French suggested as Flamborough Head was an
+angled line between GU and 31 which all three simultaneously
+pronounced St. Bee’s Head. Short double lines on each side of 24
+showed two parts of the estuary of the Severn, and projections along
+the bottom near X and 27 were evidently St. Alban’s Head and Selsey
+Bill.
+
+That they were on the right track there could now no longer be any
+doubt, and they set themselves with renewed energy to the problem
+still remaining—the meaning of the circles and the numbers they
+contained.
+
+“We can’t locate the blessed things this way,” French pointed out.
+“We’ll have to rule squares on the atlas to correspond. Then we can
+pencil in the coast line accurately, and see just where the circles
+lie.”
+
+For a time measuring and the drawing of lines were the order of the
+day. And then at last the positions of the circles were located. They
+were all drawn round towns.
+
+“Towns!” Price exclaimed. “Guess we’re getting on.”
+
+“Towns!” Cheyne echoed in his turn. “Then you must have been right,
+Inspector, about those letters being merely a blind.”
+
+“I think so,” French admitted. “Look at it in this way. If only the
+towns and coast were marked, the shape of England would show too
+clearly. But adding those letter circles disguises the thing—prevents
+the shape becoming apparent. Now, I may be wrong, but I am beginning
+to question very much if this map has anything to do with indicating a
+position—I mean directly. I am beginning to think it is merely a
+cipher. Let us test this at all events. Let us write down the names of
+the towns in the order of the numbers and see if that gives us
+anything.”
+
+He took a sheet of paper, while Price found No. 1 on the photograph
+and Cheyne identified its position with that of a town on the atlas
+map.
+
+“No. 1,” said Cheyne, “is Salisbury.”
+
+French wrote down: “1, Salisbury.”
+
+“No. 2,” went on Cheyne, “is Immingham.”
+
+“2, Immingham,” wrote French, as he remarked, “Salisbury—Immingham:
+S—I. That goes all right so far.”
+
+The next three towns were Liverpool, Uttoxeter, and Reading, and
+though none of the men could see where SILUR was leading, it was at
+least pronounceable.
+
+But when the next three letters were added French gave a mighty shout
+of victory. No. 6 was Ipswich, No. 7 Andover, and No. 8 Nottingham.
+IAN added to SILUR made Silurian.
+
+“_Silurian!_” French cried, striking the table a mighty blow with his
+clenched fist. “_Silurian!_ That begins to show a light!”
+
+The others stared.
+
+“Don’t you recognize the name?” went on French. “The _Silurian_ was a
+big Anchor liner, and she was torpedoed on her way to the States with
+two and a half millions in gold bars aboard!”
+
+The others held their breath and their eyes grew round.
+
+“Any of it recovered?”
+
+“None: it was in mid-Atlantic.”
+
+“But,” stammered Cheyne at last, “I don’t follow—”
+
+“I don’t follow myself,” French returned briskly, “but when the cipher
+which leads to a maritime expedition begins with a wreck with two and
+a half millions aboard, well then, I say it is suggestive. Come along,
+let’s read the rest of the thing. We’ll know more then.”
+
+With breathless eagerness the other towns were looked up, and at last
+French’s list read as follows:
+
+     1. Salisbury
+     2. Immingham
+     3. Liverpool
+     4. Uttoxeter
+     5. Reading
+     6. Ipswich
+     7. Andover
+     8. Nottingham
+     9. Oxford
+    10. Northampton
+    11. Evesham
+    12. Doncaster
+    13. Exeter
+    14. Gloucester
+    15. Ripon
+    16. Ely
+    17. Eastbourne
+    18. Wigan
+    19. Exmouth
+    20. Swansea
+    21. Tonbridge
+    22. Nuneaton
+    23. Ilfracombe
+    24. Newport
+    25. Eaglescliff
+    26. Taunton
+    27. Eastleigh
+    28. Ebbw Vale
+    29. Northallerton
+    30. Folkestone
+    31. Appleby
+    32. Tamworth
+    33. Huntingdon
+    34. Oldham
+    35. Middlesborough
+    36. Southend
+
+Taking the initials in order read: 
+Silurianonedegreewestnineteenfathoms, or dividing it into its obvious
+words—“_Silurian_ one degree west nineteen fathoms.”
+
+The three men stared at one another.
+
+“Nineteen fathoms!” Price gasped at last. “But if she’s in nineteen
+fathoms that gold will be salvable!”
+
+French nodded.
+
+“And I guess Dangle and Company have gone to salve it. They wouldn’t
+want a salvage boat for gold. They’d get it with a diver’s outfit.”
+
+“But,” Cheyne went on in a puzzled tone, “I’ve not got this straight
+yet. If she’s in nineteen fathoms, why has she not been salved by the
+Admiralty? Look at the _Laurentic_. She was put down off the Swilly in
+Ireland, and they salved her gold. Five million pounds’ worth. Salved
+practically every penny, and in twenty fathoms too.”
+
+Price was considering another problem.
+
+“One degree west,” he murmured. “What under heaven does that mean? One
+degree west of what? Surely not the meridian of Greenwich. If so, what
+is the latitude: there’s no mention of it?”
+
+French could not answer either of the questions, and he did not try.
+Instead he picked up his telephone receiver and made a call.
+
+“Hallo! Is that Lloyd’s? Put me through to the Record Department,
+please . . . Is Mr. Sam Pullar there? Tell him Inspector French of
+Scotland Yard wants to speak to him . . . Hallo, Sam! . . . Yes . . .
+Haven’t seen you for ages . . . Look here, Sam, I want you to do me a
+favor. It’s rather urgent, and I’d be grateful if you could look after
+it just now. . . . Yes, I’ll hold on. I want to know anything you can
+tell me about the sinking of the _Silurian_. You remember, she had two
+and a half millions on her in gold, and the U-boats got her somewhere
+between this country and the States, I think in ’17 . . . What’s that?
+. . . Yes, all that and anything else you can tell me.” He took the
+receiver from his ear. “Friend of mine in Lloyd’s,” he explained. “We
+ought to get some light from his reply.”
+
+Silence reigned for a couple of minutes, then French spoke again. “Let
+me repeat that,” he said, seizing a pad and scribbling furiously.
+“Latitude 41 degrees 36 minutes north, longitude 28 degrees 53 minutes
+west. Right. How was that known? . . . But there was no direct
+information? . . . Was the gold insured? . . . Well, it’s an involved
+business, I could hardly tell you over the phone. I’ll explain it
+first time we meet . . . Thank you, Sam. Much obliged.”
+
+He rang off and then made a departmental call.
+
+“Put me through to Inspector Barnes . . . That you, Barnes? I’m on to
+something a bit in your line. Could you come down here for half an
+hour?”
+
+“Barnes is our authority on things nautical,” he told the others.
+“Began life as a sailor and has studied all branches of sea lore. We
+always give him shipping cases. We’ll wait till he comes and then I’ll
+tell you what I learned from Lloyd’s.”
+
+“Isn’t it a strange thing,” Cheyne remarked, “that Schulz should have
+chosen England for his map and English for his cipher. Wouldn’t the
+natural thing have been for him to have chosen Germany and German? He
+could have headed it, for instance, ‘Deutschland über Alles,’ and used
+the initials of German towns for his phrase.”
+
+“I thought of that,” French returned, “but we have to remember he
+prepared the cipher to mislead Germans, not English. In that case I
+think he was right to use English. It made the thing more difficult.”
+
+He had scarcely finished speaking when the door opened, and a tall,
+alert-looking young man entered the room. French introduced him as
+Inspector Barnes and pointed to a chair.
+
+“Seat yourself, Barnes, and listen to my tale. These gentlemen are
+concerned with a curious story,” and he gave a brief résumé of the
+strange events which had led up to the existing situation. “Now,” he
+went on, “when we found it was connected with the _Silurian_ I rang up
+Sam Pullar at Lloyd’s, and this is what he told me. The _Silurian_
+sailed from this country on the 16th of February, 1917. She was bound
+for New York, and she had two and a half millions on her in bullion as
+well as a fair number of passengers. She was a big boat—an Anchor
+liner of some 15,000 tons. You remember about her?”
+
+“Well, I should think so,” Barnes returned, as he lit a cigarette.
+“Why, I was on that job—getting her away, I mean. All kinds of
+precautions were taken. A tale was started that she would load up the
+gold at Plymouth and would sail—I forget the exact date now, but it
+was three days after she did sail. It was my job to see that the
+German spies about Plymouth got hold of this tale, and we had evidence
+that they did get it, and moreover sent it through to Germany, and
+that the U-boats were instructed accordingly. As a matter of fact the
+_Silurian_ came from Brest, where she had landed army stores from
+South America, and the bullion went out in a tender from Folkestone,
+and was transferred at night in the Channel in the middle of a ring of
+destroyers. While preparations were being made at Plymouth for her
+arrival she was away hundreds of miles towards the States.”
+
+“But they got her all the same.”
+
+“Oh yes, they got her, but not all the same. She escaped the boats
+that were looking out for her. It was a chance boat that found her,
+somewhere, if I remember rightly, near the Azores.”
+
+“That’s right,” French answered. “Instead of going directly west, so
+Sam Pullar told me, she went south to avoid those submarines you spoke
+of and which were supposed to be operating off the Land’s End. Her
+course was followed by wireless, down to near the Spanish coast, and
+then across fairly due west. She was last seen by a Cape boat some
+thirty miles west of Finisterre. Then a message was received from her
+when she was some 250 miles north of the Azores, that a U-boat had
+come along, and had ordered her to stop. The message gave her position
+and went on to say that a boat was coming aboard from the submarine.
+Then it stopped, and that was the last thing that was heard of her.
+Not a body or a boat or a bit of wreckage was ever picked up, and it
+was clear that every one on board was lost. Then after a time
+confirmation was obtained. Our intelligence people in Germany
+intercepted a report from the commander of the submarine who sank her,
+giving details. She had been sunk in latitude 41° 36′ north, longitude
+28° 53′ west, which confirmed the figures sent out in her last
+wireless message. Four boats had got away, but the commander had fired
+on them and had sunk them one after another, so that not a single
+member of the passengers or crew should survive.”
+
+“Dirty savages,” Barnes commented. “But people in open boats wouldn’t
+have had much chance there anyway, particularly in February. If they
+had been able to keep afloat at all, they would probably have missed
+the Azores, and it’s very unlikely they would have made the Spanish or
+Portuguese coast—it would have been too far.”
+
+French pushed forward his atlas.
+
+“Just whereabouts did she sink?” he inquired.
+
+“About there.” Barnes indicated a point north of the Azores. “But this
+atlas is too small to see it. Send someone to my room for my large
+atlas. You’ll see better on that.”
+
+French having telephoned his instructions Barnes went on.
+
+“She’s evidently lying on what is called the Dolphin Rise. The Dolphin
+Rise is part of a great ridge which passes down the middle of the
+Atlantic from near Iceland to well down towards the Antarctic Ocean.
+This ridge is covered by an average of some 1,700 fathoms of water,
+with vastly greater depths on either side. It is volcanic and is
+covered by great submarine mountain chains. Where the tops of these
+mountains protrude above the surface we get, of course, islands, and
+the Azores are such a group.”
+
+A constable at that moment entered with the large atlas, and Barnes
+continued:
+
+“Now we’ll see in a moment.” He ran his finger down the index of maps,
+then turned the pages. “Here we are. Here is a map of the North
+Atlantic Ocean: here are the Azores and hereabouts is your point,
+and—By Jove!” the young man looked actually excited, “here is what
+your cipher means all right!”
+
+The other three crowded round in almost breathless excitement. Barnes
+pointed with a pencil slightly to the east of a white spot about a
+quarter of an inch in diameter which bore the figure 18.
+
+“Look here,” he went on, “there’s about the point she is supposed to
+have sunk. You see it is colored light blue, which the reference tells
+us means over 1,000 fathoms. But measure one degree to the west—it is
+about fifty miles at that latitude—and it brings us into the middle of
+that white patch marked 18. That white patch is another mountain
+chain, just not high enough to become an island, and the 18 means that
+the peaks come within 18 fathoms of the surface. So that your cipher
+message is probably quite all right, and your Antwerp party are more
+than likely working away at the gold at the present time.”
+
+French swore comprehensively.
+
+“You must be right,” he agreed. “One can see now what that blackguard
+of a U-boat commander did. He evidently put some men aboard the
+_Silurian_ to dismantle their wireless, then made them sail on
+parallel to his own course until he had by the use of his lead
+maneuvered them over the highest peak, and then put them down. The
+whole thing must have been quite deliberate. He returned to his own
+government a false statement of her position, which he knew would
+correspond with the last message she sent out, intending it to be
+believed that she was lost in over 1,000 fathoms. But he sank her
+where he could himself afterwards recover her bullion, or sell his
+secret to the highest bidder. The people on the _Silurian_ would know
+all about that two or three hours’ steam west, so they must be got rid
+of. Hence his destroying the boats one after another. No one must be
+left alive to give the thing away. To his own crew he no doubt told
+some tale to account for it, but he would be safe enough there, as no
+one except himself would know the actual facts. Dirty savage indeed!”
+
+With this speech of French’s a light seemed to Cheyne suddenly to
+shine out over all that strange adventure in which for so many weeks
+he had been involved. With it each puzzling fact seemed to become
+comprehensible and to drop into its natural place in the story as the
+pieces of a jigsaw puzzle eventually make a coherent whole. He
+pictured the thing from the beginning, the submarine coming up with
+the ship in deep water, but comparatively close to a shallow place
+where its treasure could be salved: the desire of the U-boat
+commander, Schulz, to save the gold, quite possibly in the first
+instance for the benefit of his nation. Then the temptation to keep
+what he had done secret so as, if possible later, to get the stuff for
+himself. His fall before this temptation, with its contingent false
+return to his government as to the position of the wreck. Then, Cheyne
+saw, the problem of passing on the secret in the event of his own
+death would arise, with the evolution and construction of the cipher
+as an attempted solution. As a result of Schulz’s fatal wound the
+cipher was handed to Price, and Schulz was doubtless about to explain
+how it should be read, when he was interrupted by the nurse. Before
+another chance offered he was dead.
+
+Given the fact that Dangle overheard the dying man’s story, and that
+Dangle’s character was what it was, Cheyne now saw that the remainder
+of his adventure could scarcely have happened otherwise than as it
+had. To obtain the cipher was Dangle’s obvious course, and there was
+no reason to doubt his own statement of how he set about it. A search
+among Price’s papers showed the latter had sent the document to
+Cheyne, and from Cheyne Dangle had evidently decided to obtain it. But
+nothing could be done till after the war, nor, presumably, without
+financial and other help. In this lay, doubtless, the reason for the
+application to Blessington and Sime, and these two being roped in, the
+unscrupulous trio set themselves to work. Susan Dangle assisted by
+obtaining a post as servant at Warren Lodge, and thus gained detailed
+information which enabled the others to lay their plans. And so in a
+quite orderly sequence event had followed event, until now it looked
+as if the climax had been reached.
+
+Like a flash these thoughts passed through Cheyne’s mind, and like a
+flash he saw what depended on them. Now they knew where Joan Merrill
+had been taken. If she was still alive—and he simply could not bring
+himself to admit any other possibility—she was on that boat of
+Merkel’s some two hundred and fifty miles north of the Azores! From
+that something surely followed. He turned to French and spoke in a
+voice which was hoarse from anxiety.
+
+“What about an expedition to the place?”
+
+French nodded decisively.
+
+“We must arrange one without delay,” he said. “I think the Admiralty
+is our hope. That gold wasn’t insured—it was a government business.
+I’ll go and tell the chief about it now, and get him to see the proper
+authorities. Meanwhile,” he looked, for French, quite sharply at the
+others, “not a word of this must be breathed.”
+
+Intense interest was excited in the higher circles of the Admiralty by
+the news which reached them from the Yard. Great personages bestirred
+themselves to issue orders, with the result that with enormously more
+promptitude than the man in the street can bring himself to associate
+with a Government Department, a fast boat, well equipped with divers
+and gear, was got ready for sea. French put in a word for both Cheyne
+and Price, and when, some eight hours after their reading of the
+cipher, the boat put out into the Thames from Chatham Dockyard, it
+carried in addition to its regular crew not only Inspector French
+himself, but also his two protégés.
+
+
+
+Chapter XX
+
+The Goal of the “L’Escaut”
+
+Inspector French had gone to bed in the tiny but comfortable stateroom
+which had been put at his disposal by the officers of the Admiralty
+boat while that redoubtable vessel was slipping easily and on an even
+keel through the calm waters of the Straits of Dover. He awoke next
+morning to find her plunging and rolling and staggering through what,
+in comparison with his previous experiences of the sea, appeared to be
+a frightful storm. To his surprise, however, he did not feel any bad
+effects from the motion, and presently he arose, and having with
+extreme care performed the ticklish operation of shaving, dressed and
+climbed with the aid of railings and handles to the companionway, and
+so to the deck.
+
+The sight which met his eyes on emerging made him hold his breath, as
+he clung to the rail at the companion door. It was a wonderful
+morning, clear and bright and fresh and invigorating. The sun shone
+down from a cloudless sky on to a dark sapphire sea of incredible
+purity, flecked over with foaming patches of dazzling white. As far as
+the eye could reach in every direction out to the hard sharp line of
+the horizon, great waves rolled relentlessly onward, wavelets dancing
+and churning and foaming on their slow-moving flanks. The wind caught
+French and, as if it were a solid, held him pinned against the
+deckhouse. He stood watching the bluff bows of the boat rise in the
+air, then crash back into the sea, throwing out a smother of water and
+foam some of which would seep over the fo’c’sle, and after swirling
+through the forward deck hamper, disappear through the scuppers
+amidships.
+
+For some moments he watched, then moving round the deckhouse, he
+glanced up and saw Cheyne and Price beckoning to him from the bridge,
+where they had joined the officer of the watch.
+
+“Some morning this, Inspector,” Price cried, as he joined them in the
+lee of the weather canvas. “This will blow the London cobwebs out of
+our minds.”
+
+He was evidently keenly enjoying himself, and even Cheyne’s anxious
+face showed appreciation of his surroundings. And soon French himself,
+having realized that they were not necessarily going to the bottom in
+a hurricane, but merely running down Channel in a fresh southwesterly
+breeze, began to feel the thrill of the sea, and to believe that the
+end of his quest was going to develop into a novel and delightful
+holiday trip.
+
+The same weather held all that day and the next, but on the third the
+wind fell, and the sea gradually calmed down to a slow, easy swell.
+The sun grew hotter, and basking in it in the lee of the deckhouse
+became a delight. Little was said about the object of the expedition.
+French and Price were content to enjoy the present, and Cheyne managed
+to keep his anxieties to himself. The ship’s officers were a jolly
+crowd, immensely excited by their quest, and conducting themselves as
+the kindly hosts of welcome guests.
+
+On the fourth day it grew still warmer, indeed out of the breeze made
+by the ship’s motion it was unpleasantly hot. French liked to get away
+forward, where it was cooler, and leaned by the hour over the bows,
+watching the sharp stem cut through the water and roll back in its
+frothing wave on either side. Dolphins were now to be seen swimming in
+the clear water, and two hung at the bows, one on each side,
+apparently motionless for long periods, until suddenly they would dart
+ahead, spiral round one another and then return to their places.
+
+That fourth evening the captain joined his passengers as the trio were
+smoking on deck.
+
+“If we carry on like this,” he remarked, “we should reach the position
+about four A.M. But those beggars may be taking a risk and not showing
+a light, so I propose to slow down from now on, in order not to arrive
+till daylight. Come on deck about six. If they’re here we should raise
+them between then and seven.”
+
+French, waking early next morning, could not control his excitement
+and remain in his berth until the allotted time. He rose at five, and
+went on deck with the somewhat shamefaced feeling that he was acting
+as a small boy, who on Christmas morning must needs get up on waking
+to investigate the possibilities of stockings. But he need not have
+feared ridicule from his companions. Both Cheyne and Price were
+already on the bridge, and the skipper stood with his telescope glued
+to his eye as he searched the horizon ahead. All three were evidently
+thrilled by the approaching finale, and a slight incoherence was
+discernible in their somewhat scrappy conversation.
+
+The morning was calm and very clear. Once again the sky was cloudless,
+and the soft southwesterly wind barely ruffled the surface of the long
+flat swells. It was a pleasure to be alive, and it seemed impossible
+to associate crime and violence with the expedition. But beneath their
+smiles all concerned felt it might easily develop into a grim enough
+business. And that side of it became more apparent when at the
+captain’s order the covers of the six-pounders mounted fore and aft
+were removed, and the weapons were prepared for action by their crews.
+
+The hands of French’s watch had just reached the quarter hour after
+six, when Captain Amery, who had once again been sweeping the horizon
+with his telescope, said quietly: “There she is.” He handed the glass
+to French. “See there, about three points on the starboard bow.”
+
+French, with some difficulty steadying the tube, saw very faint and
+far off what looked like the upper part of a steamer’s deck, with a
+funnel, and two masts like threads of the finest gossamer. “She’s
+still hull down,” the captain explained. “You’ll see her better in a
+few minutes. We should be up with her in three-quarters of an hour.”
+
+In order to leave them free later on, it was decided to have breakfast
+at once, and by the time the hasty meal had been disposed of the
+stranger was clearly visible to the naked eye. She lay heading
+westward, as though anchored in the swing of the tide, and her fires
+appeared to be either out or banked, as no smoke was visible at her
+funnel. The glass revealed a flag at her forepeak, but she was still
+too far off to make out its coloring.
+
+Now that the dramatic climax was approaching, the minds of the actors
+in the play became charged with a very real anxiety. Captain Amery,
+under almost any circumstances, would have to deal with a very
+ticklish situation. He had to get the gold, if it was salvable, and
+the fact that they were not in British waters would be a complication
+if the Belgian had already recovered it. French had to ascertain if
+his quarry were on board, and if so, see that they did not escape
+him—also a difficult job outside the three-mile limit. For Price a
+fortune hung in the balance—not of course all the gold that might be
+found, but the proportion allowed him by law; while for Cheyne there
+remained something a thousand times more important than the capture of
+a criminal or the acquisition of a fortune—for Cheyne the question of
+Joan Merrill’s life was at stake. Their several anxieties were
+reflected on the faces of the men, as they stood in silence, watching
+the rapidly growing vessel.
+
+Presently an exclamation came from Captain Amery.
+
+“By Jove!” he said, “this is a rum business. I can see that flag now,
+and it’s our red ensign. What’s a Belgian boat doing with a British
+flag? And what’s more, it’s jack down—a flag of distress. What do you
+think of that?” He looked at the others with a puzzled expression,
+then went on: “I suppose they’re not armed? You don’t know, Inspector,
+do you? If they were armed it would be a likely enough ruse to get us
+close by, so as to make sure of hitting us in a vital place.”
+
+French shook his head. He had heard nothing about arms, though for all
+he knew to the contrary the _L’Escaut_ might carry a gun.
+
+“I don’t see one,” the captain continued, “but then if they have one
+they’d keep it hidden. But I don’t like there being no signs of life
+aboard her. There’s no smoke anywhere, either from her boilers or her
+galley. There’s no one on the bridge, and I’ve not seen a movement on
+deck. It doesn’t look well: in fact it looks as if they were lying low
+and waiting for us.”
+
+They were now within a mile of the stranger, and her details were
+clear even to the naked eye.
+
+“It’s the _L’Escaut_ anyway,” Captain Amery went on. “I can see the
+name on her bows. But I confess I don’t like that flag and that
+silence. I think I’ll see if I can wake her up.”
+
+He put his hand on the foghorn halliard and blew a number of
+resounding blasts. For a few seconds nothing happened, then suddenly
+two figures appeared at the deckhouse door, and after a moment’s
+pause, rushed up on the bridge and began waving furiously. As they
+passed up the bridge ladder they came from behind the shelter of a
+boat and their silhouettes became visible against the sky. They were
+both women!
+
+A strangled cry burst from Cheyne as he snatched the captain’s
+telescope and gazed at them, then with a shout of “It’s she! It’s
+she!” he leaped to the end of the bridge and began waving his hat
+frantically.
+
+At this moment two other figures appeared on the fo’c’sle and,
+apparently moving to the vessel’s side, stood watching the newcomers.
+Amery rang his engines down to half speed and, slightly porting his
+helm, headed for some distance astern of the other. Then starboarding,
+he swung round, and bringing up parallel to her and some couple of
+hundred yards away, he dropped anchor.
+
+Without loss of a moment a boat was lowered, and French, Cheyne,
+Price, the first officer, and a half dozen men, all armed with service
+revolvers, tumbled in. Giving way lustily, they pulled for the
+Belgian.
+
+It was by this time possible to distinguish the features of the women,
+and French was not surprised to learn they were Joan Merrill and Susan
+Dangle. Evidently they recognized Cheyne, who kept waving furiously as
+if he found the movement necessary to relieve his overwrought
+feelings. The two figures forward were those of men, and these stood
+watching the boat, though without exhibiting any of the transports of
+delight of their fellow shipmates on the bridge.
+
+As they drew closer Joan made signs to them to go round to the other
+side of the ship, and dropping round her stern they saw a ladder
+rigged. In a few seconds they were alongside, and Cheyne, leaping out
+before the others, rushed up the steps and reached the deck.
+
+If there had been any doubts as to the real relations between himself
+and Joan, these were set at rest at that moment. Instinctively he
+opened his arms, and Joan, swept off her feet by her emotion, threw
+herself into them and clung to him, while tears of joy and relief ran
+down her cheeks. As far as Cheyne was concerned, Susan Dangle, the
+figures on the fo’c’sle, French, and the men behind him might as well
+not have existed. He crushed Joan violently to him, covering her face
+and hair with burning kisses, as he murmured brokenly of his love and
+of his thankfulness for her safety.
+
+French, anxious to learn the state of affairs and seeing nothing was
+to be got from Joan, turned expectantly to Susan Dangle. What could
+these unexpected developments mean? Was Susan, the enemy, now a
+friend? Where were the others? Were the ship’s company friends or
+foes? Could he ask her questions which might incriminate her without
+giving her a formal warning?
+
+But his curiosity would brook no delay.
+
+“I am Inspector French of Scotland Yard,” he announced, while Price
+and the first officer stood round expectantly. “You are Miss Susan
+Dangle. Where are the other members of this expedition?”
+
+The girl wrung her hands, and he noticed how terribly pale and drawn
+was her face and what horror shone in her eyes.
+
+“Oh!” she cried, with a gesture as if to shut out the sight of some
+hideous dream. “Oh, it’s been awful! I can’t speak of it. They’re
+dead! My brother James, Charles Sime, Mr. Merkel, most of the crew,
+dead—all dead! Mr. Blessington wounded—probably dying! They got
+fighting over the gold!” She began suddenly to laugh, a terrible high
+cackling laugh, that made her hearers shiver, and attracted the
+attention even of Joan and Cheyne.
+
+French stepped quickly forward and seized her arm.
+
+“There now, Miss Dangle,” he said kindly but firmly. “Stop that and
+pull yourself together. Your terrible experiences are over now and
+you’re in the hands of friends. But you mustn’t give way like this.
+Make an effort, and you’ll be better directly.” He led her to a
+hatchway and made her sit down, while he continued soothing her as one
+would a fractious child.
+
+But so great was the agitation of both girls that it was quite a
+considerable time before the tragic tale of the _L’Escaut’s_
+expedition became fully unfolded. And when at last it was told it
+proved still but one more illustration of the old truth that the
+qualities of greed and envy and selfishness have that seed of decay
+within themselves which leads their unhappy victims to overreach
+themselves, and instead of gaining what they seek, to lose their all.
+Shorn of incoherent phrases and irrelevant details the story was this.
+
+On the 24th of May the _L’Escaut_ had left Antwerp with twenty-eight
+souls aboard. Aft there were Joan, Susan, Blessington, Sime, Dangle,
+and Merkel, with the captain, first officer, and engineer—nine
+persons, while forward were three divers, six assistants, a cook, a
+steward, four seamen, and four engine-room staff, or nineteen
+altogether. Once clear of the Scheldt Joan’s treatment had changed.
+Her food was no longer drugged, and when in a few days she got over
+the effects of the doses she had received, she found her jailers
+polite and friendly and anxious to minimize the inconvenience and
+anxiety she was suffering. They told her they did not wish her evil,
+and were taking her with them simply to prevent information as to
+themselves or their affairs leaking out through her. This, of course,
+she did not believe, since she did not possess sufficient information
+about them to enable her to interfere with their plans. But later
+their real motive dawned on her. Gradually she realized that
+Blessington had fallen in love with her, and though he was circumspect
+enough, her distrust of him was such that she felt sick with horror
+and dread when she thought of him. Nothing, however, had occurred to
+which she could take exception, and had it not been for her fears as
+to her own fate and her anxieties as to Cheyne’s, the voyage would
+have been pleasant enough.
+
+The _L’Escaut_ was a fast boat, and four days had brought them to the
+spot referred to in the cipher. After three days’ search they found
+the wreck, and all three divers had at once gone down. A week was
+spent in making an examination of the vessel, at the end of which time
+they had located the gold. It was in her stern, low down and not far
+from her port side. The divers recommended blowing her plates off at
+this spot, and ten days more sufficed for this. Through the hole thus
+made the divers were able to draw in tackle lowered from the
+_L’Escaut_, and the ingots of gold were slung to cradles and drawn up
+with really wonderful ease and speed. They had, moreover, been favored
+with a peculiarly fine stretch of weather, work having to be suspended
+on only eight days of the thirty-seven they were there.
+
+On reaching the wreck in the first instance the captain had mustered
+his crew aft and had informed them—what he could no longer keep
+secret—that they were out for gold, and that if they found it in the
+quantities they hoped, every man on board would receive at the end of
+the trip a gift of £1,000 in addition to his pay. The men at first
+seemed more than satisfied, but as ingot after ingot was recovered the
+generosity of the offer shrank in their estimation. Four days before
+the appearance of French’s party the divers had reported that another
+day would complete the work, and then appeared the first hint that all
+was not well. On that last evening before the completion of the diving
+the men came forward in a body and asked to see the captain. They
+explained that they had been reckoning up the value of the gold, and
+they weren’t having £1,000 apiece: they wanted an even divide all
+round. The captain argued with them civilly enough at first—told them
+that they couldn’t get the metal ashore and turned into money in
+secret, that the port officers or coastguards wherever it was unloaded
+would be bound to learn what they were doing and that then the
+government would claim an enormous percentage of the whole, so that
+the £1,000 per man was an extremely liberal gift. The men declared
+that they would look after the unloading, and that they were going to
+have what they wanted. Hot words passed, and then the captain drew a
+revolver and said that he was captain there, and that what he said
+would go. Susan was watching the scene from the quarter-deck behind,
+but she could not be quite sure of what followed. One of the crew
+pressed forward and the captain raised his revolver. She did not think
+he meant to fire, but another of the men either genuinely or purposely
+misunderstood his action. He raised his hand, a shot rang out, and the
+captain fell dead. The mutineers were evidently terribly upset by a
+murder which they had apparently never intended, and had Blessington
+and Sime acted intelligently, the trouble might have gone no further.
+But at that moment these two worthies, who must have been in the
+chart-house all the time, began firing through the windows at the men.
+A regular pitched battle ensued, in which Sime and five of the crew
+were hit, three of the latter being killed. It was then war to the
+knife between those who berthed forward and those who berthed aft. All
+that night sporadic shots rang out at intervals, but at daybreak on
+the following day matters came to a head. The crew with considerable
+generalship made a feint on the fo’c’sle with some of their number
+while the remainder swarmed aft below decks. The defenders, taken in
+the rear, were shot down, and the mutineers were masters of the ship.
+
+All that next day Joan and Susan, terror-stricken, clung to each other
+in the latter’s cabin. The men were reasonably civil: told them they
+might get themselves food, and let them alone. But that night a
+further terrible quarrel burst out between, as they learned
+afterwards, those who wished to murder the girls and go off with the
+treasure and those who feared murder more than the loss of the gold.
+Once again there were the reports of shots and the groans of wounded
+men. The fusillade went on at intervals all night, until next morning
+one of the divers—a superior man with whom the girls had often
+talked—had come in with his head covered with blood, and asked the
+girls to bandage it. Susan had some slight surgical knowledge, and did
+what she could for him. Then the man told them that of the entire
+ship’s company only themselves and seven others were alive, and that
+of these seven four were so badly wounded that they would probably not
+recover. Among these was Blessington. Sime and James Dangle were dead.
+
+The slightly injured men threw the dead overboard and cleaned up the
+traces of the fighting, while the girls ministered to the seriously
+wounded. Of course, in the three days up till the arrival of the
+avengers—who had by a strange trick of fate become the rescuers—one
+man had died. Of the eight-and-twenty who sailed from Antwerp there
+were therefore left only nine: the two girls and four slightly and
+three seriously wounded men. None of those able to move understood
+either engineering or seamanship, so that they had luckily decided to
+remain at anchor in the hope of some ship picking up their flag of
+distress.
+
+“There is just one thing I should like to understand,” said Cheyne to
+Joan, when later on that day a prize crew had been put aboard the
+_L’Escaut_ and steam was being raised for the return to England, “and
+that is what happened to you on the night that we burgled Earlswood.
+You got back to your rooms, then left again with Sime and
+Blessington?”
+
+“There’s not much to tell about that,” Joan answered, smiling happily
+up into her lover’s eyes. “I was, as you know, standing like a
+watchman before the door of Earlswood, when I saw Susan and her
+brother coming up. I rang and knocked and kept them talking as long as
+possible. Then when they opened the door I slipped away, but I heard
+your footsteps and realized that you had got out by the back way. I
+heard you run off down the lane with Dangle after you, then
+remembering your arrangement about throwing away the tracing, I
+climbed over the wall, picked it up and went back to my rooms. The
+first thing I did was to photograph it, then I hid it in my color box.
+I had scarcely done so when Sime called. He said you had met with an
+accident—been caught between two motorcars and knocked down by one of
+them—and that you were seriously injured. He said you were conscious
+and had given him my address and were calling for me. I went down to
+find Blessington driving a car, though I didn’t know then it was
+Blessington. As soon as we started Sime held a chloroformed cloth over
+my mouth, and I don’t remember much more till we were on the
+_L’Escaut_.”
+
+“But how did Sime find your rooms?”
+
+“Through Susan. Susan told me all about it afterwards. She went out
+after James and saw me climbing over the wall with the tracing. She
+followed me to my rooms and immediately telephoned to Sime. When Sime
+called she was with him, and while I changed my coat Sime let her into
+the studio and she hid behind an easel until we were gone. She
+searched till she found the tracing and then simply walked out. The
+gang had intended to go to Antwerp the following week in any case, but
+this business upset their plans and they decided to start immediately.
+Dangle went on and arranged for the _L’Escaut_ to leave some days
+earlier. The rest of us put up at Ghent till she was ready to sail.”
+But little further remains to be told. The few bars of gold still left
+on the _Silurian_ were soon raised and the two ships set sail,
+reaching Chatham some five days later. All the bullion theoretically
+belonged to the Crown, but under the special circumstances a generous
+division was made whereby twenty-five per cent was returned to the
+finders. As Price refused to accept the whole amount an amicable
+agreement was come to, whereby Cheyne, Joan, and Price each received
+almost one-third, or £200,000 apiece. Of the balance of over £20,000,
+£10,000 was given to Susan Dangle by Joan’s imperative directions. She
+said that Susan was not a bad girl and had turned up trumps during the
+trouble on the _L’Escaut_. £1,000 went to Inspector French—also Joan’s
+gift, and the remainder was divided among the officers and men of the
+Admiralty salvage boat.
+
+A few days after landing Maxwell Cheyne and Joan Merrill had occasion
+to pay a short visit to the church of St. Margaret’s in the Fields,
+after which Cheyne whirled his wife away to Devonshire, so that she
+might make the acquaintance of his family and see the country where
+began that strange series of events which in the beginning of the
+story I alluded to as THE CHEYNE MYSTERY.
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Note
+
+This transcription follows the text of the Penguin Books edition
+published in 1978. The following alterations have been made to correct
+what are believed to be unambiguous printer’s errors.
+
+ * Five erroneous quotation marks have been repaired.
+ * “desparate” has been changed to “desperate” (Ch. II).
+ * “wondered it he” has been changed to “wondered if he” (Ch. II).
+ * “Chayne” has been changed to “Cheyne” (Chs. IX and X).
+ * “Walting Street” has been changed to “Watling Street” (Ch. X).
+ * “noncommital” has been changed to “noncommittal” (Ch. XIV).
+ * “pessmist” has been changed to “pessimist” (Ch. XV).
+ * “Sargeant” has been changed to “Sergeant” (Ch. XVI).
+ * “similiar” has been changed to “similar” (Ch. XVII).
+
+
+
 *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHEYNE MYSTERY ***
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-<body>

-<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHEYNE MYSTERY ***</div>

-

-<figure>

-  <img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Book cover">

-</figure>

-

-<div class="section" id="titlepage">

-

-<h1>The Cheyne Mystery</h1>

-<p class="authorprefix">by</p>

-<p class="author">Freeman Wills Crofts</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="section" id="contents">

-

-<h2>Contents</h2>

-

-<table>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">1</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch01">The Episode in the Plymouth Hotel</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">2</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch02">Burglary!</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">3</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch03">The Launch “Enid”</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">4</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch04">Concerning a Peerage</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">5</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch05">An Amateur Sleuth</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">6</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch06">The House in Hopefield Avenue</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">7</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch07">Miss Joan Merrill</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">8</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch08">A Council of War</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">9</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch09">Mr. Speedwell Plays His Hand</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">10</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch10">The New Firm Gets Busy</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">11</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch11">Otto Schulz’s Secret</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">12</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch12">In the Enemy’s Lair</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">13</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch13">Inspector French Takes Charge</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">14</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch14">The Clue of the Clay-marked Shoe</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">15</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch15">The Torn Hotel Bill</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">16</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch16">A Tale of Two Cities</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">17</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch17">On the Flood Tide</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">18</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch18">A Visitor from India</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">19</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch19">The Message of the Tracing</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-  <td class="n">20</td>

-  <td class="t"><a href="#ch20">The Goal of the “L’Escaut”</a></td>

-</tr>

-</table>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch01">

-

-<h2>Chapter I. <br> The Episode in the Plymouth Hotel</h2>

-

-<p>When the White Rabbit in <i>Alice</i> asked where he should

-begin to read the verses at the Knave’s trial the King

-replied: “Begin at the beginning; go on till you come to

-the end; then stop.”</p>

-

-<p>This would seem to be the last word on the subject of

-narration in general. For the novelist no dictum more

-entirely complete and satisfactory can be imagined—in

-theory. But in practice it is hard to live up to.</p>

-

-<p>Where is the beginning of a story? Where is the

-beginning of anything? No one knows.</p>

-

-<p>When I set myself to consider the actual beginning of

-Maxwell Cheyne’s adventure, I saw at once I should have

-to go back to Noah. Indeed I was not at all sure whether

-the thing could be adequately explained unless I carried

-back the narrative to Adam, or even further. For Cheyne’s

-adventure hinged not only on his own character and

-environment, brought about by goodness knows how many

-thousands of generations of ancestors, but also upon the

-contemporaneous history of the world, crystallized in the

-happening of the Great War and all that appertained

-thereto.</p>

-

-<p>So then, in default of the true beginning, let us

-commence with the character and environment of Maxwell

-Cheyne, following on with the strange episode which took

-place in the Edgecombe Hotel in Plymouth, and from which

-started that extraordinary series of events which I have

-called The Cheyne Mystery.</p>

-

-<p>Maxwell Cheyne was born in 1891, so that when his

-adventure began in the month of March, 1920, he was just

-twenty-nine. His father was a navy man, commander of

-one of His Majesty’s smaller cruisers, and from him the

-boy presumably inherited his intense love of the sea and

-of adventure. Captain Cheyne had Irish blood in his veins

-and exhibited some of the characteristics of that irritating

-though lovable race. He was a man of brilliant attainments,

-resourceful, dashing, spirited and, moreover, a fine

-seaman, but a certain impetuosity, amounting at times to

-recklessness, just prevented his attaining the highest rank

-in his profession. In character he was as straight as a die,

-and kindly, generous, and openhanded to a fault, but he

-was improvident and inclined to live too much in the

-present. And these characteristics were destined to affect

-his son’s life, not only directly through heredity, but

-indirectly through environment also.</p>

-

-<p>When Maxwell was nine his father died suddenly, and

-then it was found that the commander had been living up

-to his income and had made but scant provision for his

-widow and son and daughter. Dreams of Harrow and

-Cambridge had to be abandoned and, instead, the boy was

-educated at the local grammar school, and then entered

-the office of a Fenchurch Street shipping firm as junior

-clerk.</p>

-

-<p>In his twentieth year the family fortunes were again

-reversed. His mother came in for a legacy from an uncle,

-a sheep farmer in Australia. It was not a fortune, but it

-meant a fairly substantial competence. Mrs. Cheyne bought

-back Warren Lodge, their old home, a small Georgian

-house standing in pleasant grounds on the estuary of the

-Dart. Maxwell thereupon threw up his job at the shipping

-office, followed his mother to Devonshire, and settled down

-to the leisurely life of a country gentleman. Among other

-hobbies he dabbled spasmodically in literature, producing

-a couple of novels, one of which was published and sold

-with fair success.</p>

-

-<p>But the sea was in his blood. He bought a yacht, and

-with the help of the gardener’s son, Dan, sailed her in

-fair weather and foul, thereby gaining skill and judgment

-in things nautical, as well as a first-hand knowledge of the

-shores and tides and currents of the western portion of the

-English Channel.</p>

-

-<p>Thus it came to pass that when, three years after the

-return to Devon, the war broke out, he volunteered for the

-navy and was at once accepted. There he served with

-enthusiasm if not with distinction, gaining very much the

-reputation which his father had held before him. During

-the intensive submarine campaign he was wounded in an

-action with a U-boat, which resulted in his being invalided

-out of the service. On demobilization he returned home and

-took up his former pursuits of yachting, literature, and

-generally having as slack and easy a time as his energetic

-nature would allow. Some eighteen months passed, and

-then occurred the incident which might be said definitely

-to begin his Adventure.</p>

-

-<p>One damp and bleak March day Cheyne set out for

-Plymouth from Warren Lodge, his home on the estuary of

-the Dart. He wished to make a number of small purchases,

-and his mother and sister had entrusted him with

-commissions. Also he desired to consult his banker as to some

-question of investments. With a full program before him

-he pulled on his oilskins, and having assured his mother

-he would be back in time for dinner, he mounted his

-motor bicycle and rode off.</p>

-

-<p>In due course he reached Plymouth, left his machine at

-a garage, and set about his business. About one o’clock he

-gravitated towards the Edgecombe Hotel, where after a

-cocktail he sat down in the lounge to rest for a few

-minutes before lunch.</p>

-

-<p>He was looking idly over <i>The Times</i> when the voice of

-a page broke in on his thoughts.</p>

-

-<p>“Gentleman to see you, sir.”</p>

-

-<p>The card which the boy held out bore in fine script the

-legend: “Mr. Hubert Parkes, Oakleigh, Cleeve Hill,

-Cheltenham.” Cheyne pondered, but he could not recall anyone

-of the name, and it passed through his mind that the page

-had probably made a mistake.</p>

-

-<p>“Where is he?” he asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Here sir,” the boy answered, and a short, stoutly built

-man of middle age with fair hair and a toothbrush

-mustache stepped forward. A glance assured Cheyne that

-he was a stranger.</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Maxwell Cheyne?” the newcomer inquired

-politely.</p>

-

-<p>“My name, sir. Won’t you sit down?” Cheyne pulled an

-easy chair over towards his own.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you before, Mr.

-Cheyne,” the other went on as he seated himself, “though

-I knew your father fairly intimately. I lived for many years

-at Valetta, running the Maltese end of a produce company

-with which I was then connected, and I met him when

-his ship was stationed there. A great favorite, Captain

-Cheyne was! The dull old club used to brighten up when

-he came in, and it seemed a national loss when his ship

-was withdrawn to another station.”</p>

-

-<p>“I remember his being in Malta,” Cheyne returned,

-“though I was quite a small boy at the time. My mother

-has a photograph of Valetta, showing his ship lying in the

-Grand Harbor.”</p>

-

-<p>They chatted about Malta and produce company work

-therein for some minutes, and then Mr. Parkes said:</p>

-

-<p>“Now, Mr. Cheyne, though it is a pleasure to make the

-acquaintance of the son of my old friend, it was not merely

-with that object that I introduced myself. I have, as a

-matter of fact, a definite piece of business which I should

-like to discuss with you. It takes the form of a certain

-proposition of which I would invite your acceptance, I

-hope, to our mutual advantage.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne, somewhat surprised, murmured polite expressions

-of anxiety to hear details and the other went on:</p>

-

-<p>“I think before I explain the thing fully another small

-matter wants to be attended to. What about a little lunch?

-I’m just going to have mine and I shall take it as a favor

-if you will join me. After that we could talk business.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne readily agreed and the other called over a waiter

-and gave him an order. “Let us have a cocktail,” he went

-on, “and by that time lunch will be ready.”</p>

-

-<p>They strolled to the bar and there partook of a wonderful

-American concoction recommended by the young lady

-in charge. Presently the waiter reappeared and led the way,

-somewhat to Cheyne’s surprise, to a private room. There

-an excellent repast was served, to which both men did full

-justice. Parkes proved an agreeable and well informed

-companion and Cheyne enjoyed his conversation. The

-newcomer had, it appeared, seen a good deal of war service,

-having held the rank of major in the department of supply,

-serving first at Gallipoli and then at Salonica. Cheyne

-knew the latter port, his ship having called there on three

-or four occasions, and the two men found they had various

-experiences in common. Time passed pleasantly until at

-last Parkes drew a couple of arm chairs up to the fire,

-ordered coffee, and held out his cigar case.</p>

-

-<p>“With your permission I’ll put my little proposition now.

-It is in connection with your literary work and I’m afraid

-it’s bound to sound a trifle impertinent. But I can assure

-you it’s not meant to be so.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne smiled.</p>

-

-<p>“You needn’t be afraid of hurting my feelings,” he

-declared. “I have a notion of the real value of my work.

-Get along anyway and let’s hear.”</p>

-

-<p>Parkes resumed with some hesitation.</p>

-

-<p>“I have to say first that I have read everything that you

-have published and I am immensely impressed by your

-style. I think you do your descriptions extraordinarily well.

-Your scenes are vivid and one feels that one is living

-through them. There’s money in that, Mr. Cheyne, in that

-gift of vivid and interest-compelling presentation. You

-should make a good thing out of short stories. I’ve worked

-at them for years and I know.”</p>

-

-<p>“Huh. I haven’t found much money in it.”</p>

-

-<p>Parkes nodded.</p>

-

-<p>“I know you haven’t, or rather I guessed so. And if you

-don’t mind, I’ll tell you why.” He sat up and a keener

-interest crept into his manner. “There’s a fault in those

-stories of yours, a bad fault, and it’s in the construction.

-But let’s leave that for the moment and you’ll see where

-all this is leading.”</p>

-

-<p>He broke off as a waiter arrived with the coffee,

-resuming:</p>

-

-<p>“Now I have a strong dramatic sense and a good working

-knowledge of literary construction. As I said I’ve also tried

-short stories, and though they’ve not been an absolute

-failure, I couldn’t say they’ve been really successful. On the

-whole, I should think, yours have done better. And I know

-why. It’s my style. I try to produce a tale, say, of a

-shipwreck. It is intended to be full of human feeling, to grip

-the reader’s emotion. But it doesn’t. It reads like a Board

-of Trade report. Dry, you understand; not interesting. Now,

-Mr. Cheyne,” he sat up in his chair once more, this time

-almost in excitement, “you see what I’m coming to. Why

-should we not collaborate? Let me do the plots and you

-clothe them. Between us we have all the essentials for

-success.”</p>

-

-<p>He sat back and then saw the coffee.</p>

-

-<p>“I say,” he exclaimed, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t notice this

-had come. I hope it’s not cold.” He felt the coffee pot.

-“What about a liquor? I’ll ring for one. Or rather,” he

-paused suddenly. “I think I’ve got something perhaps even

-better here.” He put his hand in his pocket and drew out

-a small flask. “Old Cognac,” he said. “You’ll try a little?”</p>

-

-<p>He poured some of the golden brown liquid into

-Cheyne’s cup and was about to do the same into his own

-when he was seized with a sudden fit of choking coughing.

-He had to put down the flask while he quivered and shook

-with the paroxysm. Presently he recovered, breathless.</p>

-

-<p>“Since I was wounded,” he gasped apologetically, “I’ve

-been taken like that. The doctors say it’s purely nervous—that

-my throat and lungs and so on are perfectly sound.

-Strange the different ways this war leaves its mark!”</p>

-

-<p>He picked up the flask, poured a liberal measure of its

-contents into his own cup, drank off the contents with

-evident relish and continued:</p>

-

-<p>“What I had in my mind, if you’ll consider it, was a

-series of short stories—say a dozen—on the merchant marine

-in the war. This is the spring of 1920. Soon no one will

-read anything connected with the war, but I think that

-time has scarcely come yet. I have fair knowledge of the

-subject and yours of course is first hand. What do you

-say? I will supply twelve plots or incidents and you will

-clothe them with, say, five thousand words each. We shall

-sell them to <i>The Strand</i> or some of those monthlies, and

-afterwards publish them as a collection in book form.”</p>

-

-<p>“By Jove!” Cheyne said as he slowly sipped his coffee.

-“The idea’s rather tempting. But I wish I could feel as

-sure as you seem to do about my own style. I’m afraid I

-don’t believe that it is as good as you pretend.”</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Cheyne,” Parkes answered deliberately, “you may

-take my word for it that I know what I am talking about.

-I shouldn’t have come to you if I weren’t sure. Very few

-people are satisfied with their own work. No matter how

-good it is it falls short of the standard they have set in

-their minds. It is another case in which the outsider sees

-most of the game.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne felt attracted by the proposal. He had written

-in all seventeen short stories, and of these only three had

-been accepted, and those by inferior magazines. If it would

-lead to success he would be only too delighted to

-collaborate with this pleasant stranger. It wasn’t so much the

-money—though he was not such a fool as to make light

-of that part of it. It was success he wanted, acceptance of

-his stuff by good periodicals, a name and a standing

-among his fellow craftsmen.</p>

-

-<p>“Let’s see what it would mean,” he heard Parkes’s voice,

-and it seemed strangely faint and distant. “I suppose,

-given the synopses, you could finish a couple of tales per

-week—say, six weeks for the lot. And with luck we should

-sell for £50 to £100 each—say £500 for your six week’s

-work, or nearly £100 per week. And there might be any

-amount more for the book rights, filming and so on. Does

-the idea appeal to you, Mr. Cheyne?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne did not reply. He was feeling sleepy. Did the

-idea appeal to him? Yes. No. Did it? Did the idea . . . the

-idea . . . Drat this sleepiness! What was he thinking of?

-Did the idea . . . What idea? . . . He gave up the struggle

-and, leaning back in his chair, sank into a profound and

-dreamless slumber.</p>

-

-<p>Ages of time passed and Cheyne slowly struggled back

-into consciousness. As soon as he was sufficiently awake to

-analyze his sensations he realized that his brain was dull

-and clouded and his limbs heavy as lead. He was, however,

-physically comfortable, and he was content to allow his

-body to remain relaxed and motionless and his mind to

-dream idly on without conscious thought. But his energy

-gradually returned and at last he opened his eyes.</p>

-

-<p>He was lying, dressed, on a bed in a strange room.

-Apparently it was night, for the room was dark save for

-the light on the window blind which seemed to come from

-a street lamp without. Vaguely interested, he closed his

-eyes again, and when he reopened them the room was

-lighted up and a man was standing beside the bed.</p>

-

-<p>“Ah,” the man said, “you’re awake. Better, I hope?”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t know,” Cheyne answered, and it seemed to him

-as if some one else was speaking. “Have I been ill?”</p>

-

-<p>“No,” the man returned, “Not that I know of. But

-you’ve slept like a log for nearly six hours.”</p>

-

-<p>This was confusing. Cheyne paused to take in the idea,

-but it eluded him, then giving up the effort, he asked

-another question.</p>

-

-<p>“Where am I?”</p>

-

-<p>“In the Edgecombe: the Edgecombe Hotel, you know,

-in Plymouth. I am the manager.”</p>

-

-<p>Ah, yes! It was coming back to him. He had gone there

-for lunch—was it today or a century ago?—and he had

-met that literary man—what was his name? He couldn’t

-remember. And they had had lunch and the man had

-made some suggestion about his writing. Yes, of course! It

-was all coming back now. The man had wanted to

-collaborate with him. And during the conversation he had

-suddenly felt sleepy. He supposed he must have fallen

-asleep then, for he remembered nothing more. But why

-had he felt sleepy like that? Suddenly his brain cleared

-and he sat up sharply.</p>

-

-<p>“What’s happened, Mr. Jesse? I never did anything like

-this before!”</p>

-

-<p>“No?” the manager answered. “I dare say not. I’ll tell

-you what has happened to you, Mr. Cheyne, though I’m

-sorry to have to admit it could have taken place in my

-hotel. You’ve been drugged. That’s what has happened.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne stared incredulously.</p>

-

-<p>“Good Lord!” he ejaculated. “Drugged! By—not by

-that literary man, surely?” He paused in amazed

-consternation and then his hand flew to his pocket. “My money,”

-he gasped. “I had over £100 in my pocket. Just got it at

-the bank.” He drew out a pocket-book and examined it

-hurriedly. “No,” he went on more quietly. “It’s all right.”

-He took from it a bundle of notes and with care counted

-them. “A hundred and eight pounds. That’s quite correct.

-My watch? No, it’s here.” He got up unsteadily, and rapidly

-went through his pockets. “Nothing missing anyway. Are

-you sure I was drugged? I don’t understand the thing a

-little bit.”</p>

-

-<p>“I am afraid there is no doubt about it. You seemed so

-ill that I sent for a doctor. He said you were suffering

-from the effects of a drug, but were in no danger and

-would be all right in a few hours. He advised that you be

-left quietly to sleep it off.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne rubbed his hand over his eyes.</p>

-

-<p>“I can’t understand it,” he repeated. “Tell me exactly

-what happened.”</p>

-

-<p>“About three o’clock or shortly before it, Mr. Parkes

-appeared at the office and asked for his bill. He paid it,

-complimented the clerk on the excellent lunch he had had,

-and left the hotel. He was perfectly calm and collected

-and quite unhurried. Shortly after the waiter went up to

-clear away the things and he found you lying back in your

-chair, apparently asleep, but breathing so heavily that he

-was uneasy and he came and told me. I went up at once

-and was also rather alarmed at your condition, so I sent

-at once for the doctor.”</p>

-

-<p>“But,” Cheyne objected, “that’s all right, only I <em>wasn’t</em>

-drugged. I know exactly what I ate and drank, and Parkes

-had precisely the same. If I was drugged, he must have

-been also, and you say he wasn’t.”</p>

-

-<p>“He certainly was not. But think again, Mr. Cheyne.

-Are you really quite certain that he had no opportunity of

-putting powder over your food or liquid into your drink?

-Did he divert your attention at any time from the table?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was silent. He had remembered the flask of old

-brandy.</p>

-

-<p>“He put cognac in my coffee from his own flask,” he

-admitted at length, “but it couldn’t have been that.”</p>

-

-<p>“Ah,” the manager answered in a satisfied tone, “it <em>was</em>

-that, I should swear. Why don’t you think so?”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll tell you why I don’t think so; why, in fact, I know

-it wasn’t. He put an even larger dose out of the same flask

-into his own cup and he drank his coffee before I drank

-mine. So that if there was anything in the flask he would

-have got knocked over first.”</p>

-

-<p>The manager looked puzzled.</p>

-

-<p>“Don’t think me discourteous, Mr. Cheyne, but I confess

-I have my doubts about that. That episode of the flask

-looks too suspicious. Are you sure it was the same flask in

-each case? Did he pour straight into one cup after the

-other or was there an interval in between? You realize of

-course that a clever conjurer could substitute a second

-flask for the first without attracting your notice?”</p>

-

-<p>“I realize that right enough, but I am positive he didn’t

-do so in this case. Though,” he paused for a moment,

-“that reminds me that there was an interval between

-pouring into each cup. He got a fit of coughing after giving

-me mine and had to put down the flask. But when the

-paroxysm was over he lifted it again and helped himself.”</p>

-

-<p>“There you are,” the manager declared. “During his fit

-of coughing he substituted a different flask.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll swear he didn’t. But can’t we settle the thing

-beyond doubt? Have the cups been washed? If not, can’t

-we get the dregs analyzed?”</p>

-

-<p>“I have already asked the doctor to have it done. He

-said he would get Mr. Pringle to do it at once: that’s the

-city analyst. They’re close friends, and Mr. Pringle would

-do it to oblige him. We should have his report quite soon.

-I am also having him analyze the remains on the plates

-which were used. Fortunately, owing to lunch being served

-in a private room, these had been stacked together and

-none had been washed. So we should be able to settle the

-matter quite definitely.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne nodded as he glanced at his watch. “Good

-Lord!” he cried, “it’s eight o’clock and I said I should be

-home by seven! I must ring up my mother or she’ll think

-something is wrong.”</p>

-

-<p>The Cheynes had not themselves a telephone, but their

-nearest neighbors, people called Hazelton, were

-good-natured about receiving an occasional message through

-theirs and transmitting it to Warren Lodge. Cheyne went

-down to the lounge and put through his call, explaining

-to Mrs. Hazelton that unforeseen circumstances had

-necessitated his remaining overnight in Plymouth. The lady

-promised to have the message conveyed to Mrs. Cheyne

-and Maxwell rang off. Then as he turned to the dining

-room, a page told him that the manager would like to see

-him in his office.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve just got a report from the doctor about that

-coffee, Mr. Cheyne,” the other greeted him, “and I must

-say it confirms what you say, though it by no means clears

-up the mystery. There was brandy in those cups, but no

-drug: no trace of a drug in either.”</p>

-

-<p>“I knew that,” Cheyne rejoined. “Everything that I had

-for lunch Parkes had also. I was there and I ought to

-know. But it’s a bit unsettling, isn’t it? Looks as if my

-heart or something had gone wrong.”</p>

-

-<p>The manager looked at him more seriously. “Oh, I don’t

-think so,” he dissented. “I don’t think you can assume

-that. The doctor seemed quite satisfied. But if it would

-ease your mind, why not slip across now and see him? He

-lives just round the corner.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne reflected.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll do so,” he answered presently. “If there’s nothing

-wrong it will prevent me fancying things, and if there is

-I should know of it. I’ll have some dinner and then go

-across. By the way, have you said anything to the police?”</p>

-

-<p>The manager hesitated.</p>

-

-<p>“No, I have not. I don’t know that we’ve evidence

-enough. But in any case, Mr. Cheyne, I trust you do not

-wish to call in the police.” The manager seemed quite

-upset by the idea and spoke earnestly. “It would not do

-the hotel any good if it became known that a visitor had

-been drugged. I sincerely trust, sir, that you can see your

-way to keep the matter quiet.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne stared.</p>

-

-<p>“But you surely don’t suggest that I should take the

-thing lying down? If I have been drugged, as you say, I

-must know who has done it, and why. That would seem

-to me obvious.”</p>

-

-<p>“I agree,” the manager admitted, “and I should feel

-precisely the same in your place. But it is not necessary to

-apply to the police. A private detective would get you the

-information quite as well. See here, Mr. Cheyne, I will

-make you an offer. If you will agree to the affair being

-hushed up, I will employ the detective on behalf of the

-hotel. He will work under your direction and keep you

-advised of every step he takes. Come now, sir, is it a

-bargain?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne did not hesitate.</p>

-

-<p>“Why, yes,” he said promptly, “that will suit me all right.

-I don’t specially want to advertise the fact that I have

-been made a fool of. But I’d like to know what has really

-happened.”</p>

-

-<p>“You shall, Mr. Cheyne. No stone shall be left unturned

-to get at the truth. I’ll see about a detective at once.

-You’ll have some dinner, sir?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was not hungry, but he was very thirsty, and he

-had a light meal with a number of long drinks. Then he

-went round to see the doctor, to whom the manager had

-telephoned, making an appointment.</p>

-

-<p>After a thorough examination he received the verdict.

-It was a relief to his mind, but it did not tend to clear up

-the mystery. He was physically perfectly sound, and his

-sleep of the afternoon was not the result of disease or

-weakness. He had been drugged. That was the beginning

-and the end of the affair. The doctor was quite emphatic

-and ridiculed the idea of any other explanation.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne returned to the Edgecombe, and sitting down

-in a deserted corner of the lounge, tried to puzzle the

-thing out. But the more he thought of it, the more

-mysterious it became. His mind up till then had been

-concentrated on the actual administration of the drug, and

-this point alone still seemed to constitute an insoluble

-problem. But now he saw that it was but a small part of

-the mystery. <em>Why</em> had he been drugged? It was not

-robbery. Though he had over £100 in his pocket, the money

-was intact. He had no other valuables about him, and in

-any case nothing had been removed from his pockets. It

-was not to prevent his going to any place. He had not

-intended to do anything that afternoon that could

-possibly interest a stranger. No, he could form no conception

-of the motive.</p>

-

-<p>But even more puzzling than this was the question:

-How did Parkes, if that was really his name, know that

-he, Cheyne, was coming to Plymouth that day? It was

-true that he had mentioned it to his mother and sister a

-couple of days previously, but he had told no one else and

-he felt sure that neither had they. But the man had almost

-certainly been expecting him. At least it was hard to

-believe that the whole episode had been merely the fruits

-of a chance encounter. On the other hand there was the

-difficulty that any other suggestion seemed even more

-unlikely. Parkes simply <em>couldn’t</em> have known that he,

-Cheyne, was coming. It was just inconceivable.</p>

-

-<p>He lay back in his deep armchair, the smoke of his pipe

-curling lazily up, as he racked his brains for some theory

-which would at least partially meet the facts. But without

-success. He could think of nothing which threw a gleam

-of light on the situation.</p>

-

-<p>And then he made a discovery which still further

-befogged him and made him swear with exasperation.

-He had taken out his pocket-book and was once more

-going through its contents to make absolutely sure

-nothing was missing, when he came to a piece of folded paper

-bearing memoranda about the money matters which he

-had discussed with his banker. He had not opened this

-when he had looked through the book after regaining

-consciousness, but now half absent-mindedly he unfolded it.

-As he did so he stared. Near the crease was a slight tear,

-unquestionably made by some one unfolding it hurriedly

-or carelessly. But that tear had not been there when he

-had folded it up. He could swear to it. Someone therefore

-had been through his pockets while he was asleep.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch02">

-

-<h2>Chapter II. <br> Burglary!</h2>

-

-<p>The discovery that his pockets had been gone through

-while he was under the influence of the drug reduced

-Cheyne to a state of even more complete mystification

-than ever. What <em>had</em> the unknown been looking for? He,

-Cheyne, had nothing with him that, so far as he could

-imagine, could possibly have interested any other person.

-Indeed, money being ruled out, he did not know that he

-possessed anywhere any paper or small object which it

-would be worth a stranger’s while to steal.</p>

-

-<p>Novels he had read recurred to him in which desperate

-enterprises were undertaken to obtain some document of

-importance. Plans of naval or military inventions which

-would give world supremacy to the power possessing them

-were perhaps the favorite instruments in these romances,

-but treaties which would mean war if disclosed to the

-wrong power, maps of desert islands on which treasure

-was buried, wills of which the existence was generally

-unknown and letters compromising the good name of

-wealthy personages had all been used time and again. But

-Cheyne had no plans or treaties or compromising letters

-from which an astute thief might make capital. Think as he

-would, he could frame no theory to account for Parkes’s

-proceedings.</p>

-

-<p>He yawned and, getting up, began to pace the deserted

-lounge. The effects of the drug had not entirely worn off,

-for though he had slept all the afternoon he still felt slack

-and drowsy. In spite of its being scarcely ten o’clock, he

-thought he would have a whisky and go up to bed, in the

-hope that a good night’s rest would drive the poison out of

-his system and restore his usual feeling of mental and

-physical well-being.</p>

-

-<p>But Fate, once more in the guise of an approaching

-page, decreed otherwise. As he turned lazily towards the

-bar a voice sounded in his ear.</p>

-

-<p>“Wanted on the telephone, sir.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne crossed the hall and entered the booth.</p>

-

-<p>“Well?” he said shortly. “Cheyne speaking.”</p>

-

-<p>A woman’s voice replied, a voice he recognized. It

-belonged to Ethel Hazelton, the grown-up daughter of that

-Mrs. Hazelton whom he had asked to inform Mrs.

-Cheyne of his change of plans. She spoke hurriedly and he

-could sense perturbation in her tones.</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, Mr. Cheyne, I’m afraid I have rather disturbing

-news for you. When you rang up we sent James over to

-Warren Lodge. He found Mrs. Cheyne and Agatha on the

-doorstep trying to get in. They had been ringing for some

-time, but could not attract attention. He rang also, and

-then eventually found a ladder and got in through one of

-the upper windows. He opened the door for Mrs. Cheyne

-and Agatha. Can you hear me all right?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, clearly. Go on, please, Miss Hazelton.”</p>

-

-<p>“They searched the house and they discovered cook and

-Susan in their bedrooms, both tied up and gagged, but

-otherwise none the worse. They released them, of course,

-and then found that the house had been burgled.”</p>

-

-<p>“Burgled!” Cheyne ejaculated sharply. “Great Scott!”

-He was considerably startled and paused in some

-consternation, asking then if much stuff was missing.</p>

-

-<p>“They don’t know,” the distant voice answered. “Your

-safe had been opened, but they hadn’t had time to make

-an examination when James left. The silver seems to be

-all there, so that’s something. James came back here with

-a message from Mrs. Cheyne asking us to let you know,

-and I have been ringing up hotels in Plymouth for the last

-half hour. You know, you only said you were staying the

-night in your message; you didn’t say where. Mrs. Cheyne

-would like you to come back if you can manage it.”</p>

-

-<p>There was no hesitation about Cheyne’s reply.</p>

-

-<p>“Of course I shall,” he said quickly. “I’ll start at once

-on my bicycle. What about telling the police?”</p>

-

-<p>“I rang them up immediately. They said they would go

-out at once. James has gone back also. He will stay and

-lend a hand until you arrive.”</p>

-

-<p>“Splendid! It’s more than good of you both, Miss

-Hazelton. I can’t thank you enough. I’ll be there in less

-than an hour.”</p>

-

-<p>He delayed only to tell the news to the manager.</p>

-

-<p>“There’s the explanation of this afternoon’s affair at all

-events,” he declared. “I was evidently fixed up so that I

-couldn’t butt in and spoil sport. But it’s good-bye to your

-keeping it quiet. The police have been called in already

-and the whole thing is bound to come out.”</p>

-

-<p>The manager made a gesture of concern.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m sorry to hear your news,” he said gravely. “Are

-you properly insured?”</p>

-

-<p>“Partially. I don’t know if it will cover the loss because

-I don’t know what’s gone. But I must be getting away.”</p>

-

-<p>He was moving off, but the manager laid a detaining

-hand on his arm.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, I’m extremely sorry about it. But see here, Mr.

-Cheyne, it may not prove to be necessary to bring in about

-the drugging. It would injure the hotel. I sincerely trust

-you’ll do what you can in the matter, and if you find the

-private detective sufficient, you’ll let our arrangement

-stand.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll decide when I hear just what has happened. You’ll

-let me have a copy of the analyst’s report?”</p>

-

-<p>“Of course. Directly I get it I shall send it on.”</p>

-

-<p>Fifteen minutes later Cheyne was passing through the

-outskirts of Plymouth on his way east. The night was fine,

-the mists of the day having cleared away, and a

-three-quarter moon shone brilliantly out of a blue-black sky.

-Keenly anxious to reach home and learn the details of the

-burglary and the extent of his loss, Cheyne crammed on

-every ounce of power, and his machine snored along the

-deserted road at well over forty miles an hour. In spite of

-slacks for villages and curves he made a record run,

-turning into the gate of Warren Lodge at just ten minutes

-before eleven.</p>

-

-<p>As he approached the house everything looked normal.

-But when he let himself in this impression was dispelled,

-for a constable stood in the hall, who, saluting, informed

-him that Sergeant Kirby was within and in charge.</p>

-

-<p>But Cheyne’s first concern was with his mother and

-sister. An inquiry produced the information that the two

-ladies were waiting for him in the drawing room, and

-thither he at once betook himself.</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Cheyne was a frail little woman who looked ten

-years older than her age of something under sixty. She

-welcomed her son with a little cry of pleasure.</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, I am relieved to see you, Maxwell,” she cried.

-“I’m so glad you were able to come. Isn’t this a terrible

-business?”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t know, mother,” Cheyne answered cheerily,

-“that depends. I hear no one is any the worse. Has much

-stuff been stolen?”</p>

-

-<p>“Nothing!” Mrs. Cheyne’s tone conveyed the wonder

-she evidently felt. “Nothing whatever! Or at least we

-can’t find that anything is missing.”</p>

-

-<p>“Unless something may have been taken from your

-safe,” Agatha interposed. “Was there much in it?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, only a few pounds and some papers, none valuable

-to an outsider.” He glanced at his sister. She was a pretty

-girl, tall and dark and in features not unlike himself. Both

-the young people had favored the late commander’s side

-of the house. He turned towards the door, continuing:

-“I’ll go and have a look, and then you can tell me what

-has happened.”</p>

-

-<p>The safe was built into the wall in his own sanctum,

-“the study,” as his mother persisted in calling it. It had

-been taken over with the house when Mrs. Cheyne

-bought the little estate. As Cheyne now entered he saw that

-its doors were standing open. A tall man in the uniform

-of a sergeant of police was stooping over it. He turned as

-he heard the newcomer’s step.</p>

-

-<p>“Good-evening sir,” he said in an impressive tone. “This

-is a bad business.”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, well, I don’t know, sergeant,” Cheyne answered

-easily. “If no one has been hurt and nothing has been

-stolen it might have been worse.”</p>

-

-<p>The sergeant stared at him with some disfavor.</p>

-

-<p>“There’s not much but what might have been worse,”

-he observed oracularly. “But we’re not sure yet that

-nothing’s been stolen. Nobody knows what was in this here

-safe, except maybe yourself. I’d be glad if you’d have a

-look and see if anything is gone.”</p>

-

-<p>There was very little in the safe and it did not take

-Cheyne many seconds to go through it. The papers were

-tossed about—he could swear someone had turned them

-over—but none seemed to have been removed. The small

-packet of Treasury notes was intact and a number of gold

-and silver medals, won in athletic contests, were all in

-evidence.</p>

-

-<p>“Nothing missing there, sergeant,” he declared when he

-had finished.</p>

-

-<p>His eye wandered round the room. There was not much

-of value in it; one or two silver bowls—athletic trophies

-also, a small gold clock of Indian workmanship, a pair of

-high-power prism binoculars and a few ornaments were

-about all that could be turned into money. But all these

-were there, undisturbed. It was true that the glass door of

-a locked bookcase had been broken to enable the bolt to

-be unfastened and the doors opened, but none of the

-books seemed to have been touched.</p>

-

-<p>“What do you think they were after, sir?” the sergeant

-queried. “Was there any jewelry in the house that they

-might have heard of?”</p>

-

-<p>“My mother has a few trinkets, but I scarcely think you

-could dignify them by the name of jewelry. I suppose

-these precious burglars have left no kind of clue?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, sir, nothing. Except maybe the girls’ description.

-I’ve telephoned that into headquarters and the men will

-be on the lookout.”</p>

-

-<p>“Good. Well, if you can wait here a few minutes I’ll

-go and send my mother to bed and then I’ll come back

-and we can settle what’s to be done.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne returned to the drawing room and told his

-news. “Nothing’s been taken,” he declared. “I’ve been

-through the safe and everything’s there. And nothing

-seems to be missing from the room either. The sergeant

-was asking about your jewels, mother. Have you looked to

-see if they’re all right?”</p>

-

-<p>“It was the first thing I thought of, but they are all in

-their places. The cabinet I keep them in was certainly

-examined, for everything was left topsy-turvy, but nothing

-is missing.”</p>

-

-<p>“Very extraordinary,” Cheyne commented. It seemed to

-him more than ever clear that these mysterious thieves were

-after some document which they believed he had, though

-why they should have supposed he held a valuable

-document he could not imagine. But the searching first of his

-pockets and then of his safe and house unmistakably

-suggested such a conclusion. He wondered if he should

-advance this theory, then decided he would first hear what

-the others had to say.</p>

-

-<p>“Now, mother,” he went on, “it’s past your bedtime, but

-before you go I wish you would tell me what happened to

-you. Remember I have heard no details other than what

-Miss Hazelton mentioned on the telephone.”</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Cheyne answered with some eagerness, evidently

-anxious to relieve her mind by relating her experiences.</p>

-

-<p>“The first thing was the telegram,” she began. “Agatha

-and I were sitting here this afternoon. I was sewing and

-Agatha was reading the paper—or was it the <i>Spectator</i>,

-Agatha?”</p>

-

-<p>“The paper, mother, though that does not really

-matter.”</p>

-

-<p>“No, of course it doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Cheyne repeated.

-It was evident the old lady had had a shock and found it

-difficult to concentrate her attention. “Well, at all events

-we were sitting here as I have said, sewing and reading,

-when your telegram was brought in.”</p>

-

-<p>“<em>My</em> telegram?” Cheyne queried sharply. “What

-telegram do you mean?”</p>

-

-<p>“Why, your telegram about Mr. Ackfield, of course,” his

-mother answered with some petulance. “What other

-telegram could it be? It did not give us much time, but—”</p>

-

-<p>“But, mother dear, I don’t know what you are talking

-about. I sent no telegram.”</p>

-

-<p>Agatha made a sudden gesture.</p>

-

-<p>“There!” she exclaimed eagerly. “What did I say? When

-we came home and learned what had happened and

-thought of your not turning up,” she glanced at her

-brother, “I said it was only a blind. It was sent to get us

-away from the house!”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne shrugged his shoulders good-humoredly. What

-he had half expected had evidently taken place.</p>

-

-<p>“Dear people,” he protested, “this is worse than getting

-blood from a stone. Do tell me what has happened. You

-were sitting here this afternoon when you received a

-telegram. Very well now, what time was that?”</p>

-

-<p>“What time? Oh, about—what time did the telegram

-come, Agatha?”</p>

-

-<p>“Just as the clock was striking four. I heard it strike

-immediately after the ring.”</p>

-

-<p>“Good,” said Cheyne in what he imagined was the

-manner of a cross-examining K.C. “And what was in the

-telegram?”</p>

-

-<p>The girl was evidently too much upset by her experience

-to resent his superior tone. She crossed the room, and

-taking a flimsy pink form from a table, handed it over to him.</p>

-

-<p>The telegram had been sent out from the General Post

-Office in Plymouth at 3:17 that afternoon, and read:</p>

-

-<blockquote>

-

-  <p>You and Agatha please come without fail to Newton Abbot by

-  5:15 train to meet self and Ackfield about unexpected financial

-  development. Urgent that you sign papers today. Ackfield will

-  return Plymouth after meeting. You and I will catch 7:10 home

-  from Newton Abbot — <span class="signature">Maxwell</span>.</p>

-

-</blockquote>

-

-<p>Three-seventeen; and Parkes left the Edgecombe about

-three! It seemed pretty certain that he had sent the

-telegram. But if so, what an amazing amount the man knew

-about them all! Not only had he known of Cheyne’s war

-experiences and literary efforts and of his visit that day to

-the Edgecombe, but now it seemed that he had also known

-his address, of his mother and sister, and, most amazing

-thing of all, of the fact that Mr. Ackfield of Plymouth was

-their lawyer and confidential adviser! Moreover, he had

-evidently known that the ladies were at home as well as

-that they alone comprised the family. Surely, Cheyne

-thought, comparatively few people possessed all this

-knowledge, and the finding of Parkes should therefore be

-a correspondingly easy task.</p>

-

-<p>“Extraordinary!” he said aloud. “And what did you do?”</p>

-

-<p>“We got a taxi,” Mrs. Cheyne answered. “Agatha

-arranged it by telephone from Mrs. Hazelton’s. You tell

-him, Agatha. I’m rather tired.”</p>

-

-<p>The old lady indeed looked worn out and Cheyne

-interposed a suggestion that she should go at once to bed,

-leaving Agatha to finish the story. But she refused and her

-daughter took up the tale.</p>

-

-<p>“We caught the 5:15 ferry and went on to Newton

-Abbot. But when the Plymouth train came in there was no

-sign of you or Mr. Ackfield, so we sat in the waiting-room

-until the 7:10. I telephoned for a taxi to meet the ferry.

-It brought us to the door about half-past eight, but

-unfortunately it went away before we found we couldn’t get in.”</p>

-

-<p>“You rang?”</p>

-

-<p>“We rang, and knocked, but could get no answer. The

-house was in darkness and we began to fear something

-was wrong. Then just as I was about to leave mother in

-the summer-house and run up to the Hazeltons’ to see if

-James was there, he appeared to say that you were staying

-in Plymouth overnight. He rang and knocked again. But

-still no one came. Then he tried the windows on the

-ground floor, but they were all fastened, and at last he got

-the ladder from the yard and managed to get in through

-the window of your dressing room. He came down and

-opened the door and we got in.”</p>

-

-<p>“And what did you find?”</p>

-

-<p>“Nothing at first. We wondered where the maids could

-possibly have got to, or what could have happened. I

-found your electric torch and we began to search the

-rooms. Then we saw that your safe had been broken open

-and we knew it was burglary. That terrified us on account

-of the maids and we wondered if they had been decoyed

-away also. I don’t mind admitting now that I was just

-shaking with fear lest we should find that they had been

-injured or even murdered. But it wasn’t so bad as that.”</p>

-

-<p>“They were tied up?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, we found them in cook’s bedroom, lying on the

-floor with their hands and feet tied, and gagged. They

-were both very weak and could scarcely stand when we

-released them. They told us—but you’d better see them

-and hear what they have to say. They’re not gone to bed

-yet.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, I’ll see them directly. What did you do then?”</p>

-

-<p>“As soon as we were satisfied the burglars had gone

-James went home to call up the police. Then he came

-back and we began a second search to see what had been

-stolen. But the more we looked, the more surprised we

-became. We couldn’t find that anything had been taken.”</p>

-

-<p>“Extraordinary!” Cheyne commented again. “And

-then?”</p>

-

-<p>“After a time the police came out, and then James went

-home again to see whether they had been able to get in

-touch with you. He came back and told us you would be

-here by eleven. He had only just gone when you arrived.

-I really can’t say how kind and helpful he has been.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, James is a good fellow. Now you and mother get

-to bed and I’ll fix things up with the police.”</p>

-

-<p>He turned his steps to the kitchen, where he found the

-two maids shivering over a roaring fire and drinking tea.

-They stood up as he entered, but he told them to sit down

-again, asked for a cup for himself, and seating himself on

-the table chatted pleasantly before obtaining their

-statements. They had evidently had a bad fright and cook still

-seemed hysterical. As he sat he looked at them curiously.</p>

-

-<p>Cook was an elderly woman, small and plain and stout.

-She had been with them since they had bought the house,

-and though he had not seen much of her, she had always

-seemed good-tempered and obliging. He had heard his

-mother speak well of her and he was sorry she should have

-had so distressing an experience. But he didn’t fancy she

-would be one to give burglars much trouble.</p>

-

-<p>Susan, the parlormaid, was of a different quality. She

-was tall with rather heavy features, and good looking

-after a somewhat coarse type. If a trifle sullen in manner,

-she was competent and by no means a fool, and he felt

-that nefarious marauders would find her a force to be

-reckoned with.</p>

-

-<p>By dint of patient questioning he presently knew all

-they had to tell. It appeared that shortly after the ladies

-had left a ring had come at the door. Susan had opened it

-to find two men standing outside. One was tall and

-powerfully built, with dark hair and clean shaven, the

-other small and pale—pale face, pale hair, and tiny pale

-mustache. They had inquired for Mr. Maxwell Cheyne,

-and when she had said he was out the small man had

-asked if he could write a note. She had brought them into

-the hall and was turning to go for some paper when the

-big man had sprung on her and before she could cry out

-had pressed a handkerchief over her mouth. The small

-man had shut the door and begun to tie her wrists and

-ankles. Susan had struggled and in spite of them had

-succeeded in getting her mouth free and shouting a warning

-to cook, but she had been immediately overpowered and

-securely gagged. The men had laid her on the floor of the

-hall and had seemed about to go upstairs when cook,

-attracted by Susan’s cry, had appeared at the door leading

-to the back premises. The two men had instantly rushed

-over, and in a few seconds cook also lay bound and

-gagged on the floor. They had then disappeared, apparently

-to search the house, for in a few minutes they had come

-back and carried first Susan and then cook to the latter’s

-room at the far end of the back part of the house. The

-intruders had then withdrawn, closing the door, and the

-two women had neither heard nor seen anything further

-of them.</p>

-

-<p>The whole episode had a curious effect on Cheyne. It

-seemed, as he considered it, to lose its character of an

-ordinary breach of the law, punishable by the authorized

-forces of the Crown, and to take on instead that of a

-personal struggle between himself and these unknown

-men. The more he thought of it the more inclined he

-became to accept the challenge and to pit his own brain

-and powers against theirs. The mysterious nature of the

-affair appealed to his sporting instincts, and by the time

-he rejoined the sergeant in the study, he had made up his

-mind to keep his own counsel as to the Plymouth incident.

-He would call up the manager of the Edgecombe, tell

-him to carry on with his private detective, and have the

-latter down to Warren Lodge to go into the matter of the

-burglary.</p>

-

-<p>He found the sergeant attempting ineffectively to

-discover finger-prints on the smooth walls of the safe,

-sympathized with him in the difficulty of his task, and asked a

-number of deliberately futile questions. On the ground

-that nothing had been stolen he minimized the gravity of

-the affair, questioned his power to prosecute should the

-offenders be forthcoming, and instilled doubts into the

-other’s mind as to the need for special efforts to run them

-to earth. Finally, the man explaining that he had finished

-for the time being, he bade him good night, locked up the

-house and went to bed. There he lay for several hours

-tossing and turning as he puzzled over the affair, before

-sleep descended to blot out his worries and soothe his

-eager desire to be on the track of his enemies.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch03">

-

-<h2>Chapter III. <br> The Launch “Enid”</h2>

-

-<p>For several days after the attempted burglary events in the

-Cheyne household pursued the even tenor of their way.

-Cheyne went back to Plymouth on the following morning

-and interviewed the manager of the Edgecombe, and the

-day after a quiet, despondent-looking man with the air of

-a small shopkeeper arrived at Warren Lodge and was

-closeted with Cheyne for a couple of hours. Mr. Speedwell,

-of Horton and Lavender’s Private Detective Agency,

-listened with attention to the tales of the drugging and the

-burglary, thenceforward appearing at intervals and making

-mysterious inquiries on his own account.</p>

-

-<p>On one of these visits he brought with him the report of

-the analyst relative to the dishes of which Cheyne had

-partaken at lunch, but this document only increased the

-mystification the affair had caused. No trace of drugs was

-discernible in any of the food or drink in question, and as

-the soiled plates or glasses or cups of <em>all</em> the courses were

-available for examination, the question of how the drug

-had been administered—or alternatively whether it really

-had been administered—began to seem almost insoluble.

-The cocktail taken with Parkes before lunch was the only

-item of which a portion could not be analyzed, but the

-evidence of the barmaid proved conclusively that Parkes

-could not have tampered with it.</p>

-

-<p>But in spite of the analysis, the coffee still seemed the

-doubtful item. Cheyne’s sleepy feeling had come on very

-rapidly immediately after drinking the coffee, before which

-he had not felt the slightest abnormal symptoms. Mr.

-Speedwell laid stress on this point, though he was

-pessimistic about the whole affair.</p>

-

-<p>“They know what they’re about, does this gang,” he

-admitted ruefully as he and Cheyne were discussing

-matters. “That man in the hotel that called himself Parkes—if

-we found him tomorrow we should have precious little

-against him. However he managed it, we can’t prove he

-drugged you. In fact it’s the other way round. He can

-prove on our evidence that he didn’t.”</p>

-

-<p>“It looks like it. You haven’t been able to find out

-anything about him?”</p>

-

-<p>“Not a thing, sir; that is, not what would be any use.

-I can prove that he sent your telegram all right; the girl

-in the Post Office recognized his description. But I couldn’t

-get on to his trail after that. I’ve tried the stations and

-the docks and the posting establishments and the hotels

-and I can’t get a trace. But of course I’ll maybe get it yet.”</p>

-

-<p>“What about the address given on his card?”</p>

-

-<p>“Tried that first thing. No good. No one of the name

-known in the district.”</p>

-

-<p>“When did the man arrive at the hotel?”</p>

-

-<p>“Just after you did, Mr. Cheyne. He probably picked you

-up somewhere else and was following you to see where

-you’d get lunch.”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, well, that explains something. I was wondering

-how he knew I was going to the Edgecombe.”</p>

-

-<p>“It doesn’t explain so very much, sir. Question still is,

-how did he get all that other information about you; the

-name of your lawyer and so on?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne had to admit that the prospects of clearing up

-the affair were not rosy. “But what about the burglary?”

-he went on more hopefully. “That should be an easier nut

-to crack.”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell was still pessimistic.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t know about that, sir,” he answered gloomily.

-“There’s not much to go on there either. The only chance

-is to trace the men’s arrival or departure. Now individually

-the private detective is every bit as good as the police;

-better, in fact, because he’s not so tied up with red tape.

-But he hasn’t their organization. In a case like this, when

-the police with their enormous organization have failed,

-the private detective hasn’t a big chance. However, of

-course I’ve not given up.”</p>

-

-<p>He paused, and then drawing a little closer to Cheyne

-and lowering his voice, he went on impressively: “You

-know, sir, I hope you’ll not consider me out of place in

-saying it, but I had hoped to get my best clue from

-yourself. There can be no doubt that these men are after some

-paper that you have, or that they think you have. If you

-could tell me what it was, it might make all the

-difference.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne made a gesture of impatience.</p>

-

-<p>“Don’t I know that,” he cried. “Haven’t I been racking

-my brains over that question ever since the thing

-happened! I can’t think of anything. In fact, I can tell you

-there <em>was</em> nothing—nothing that I know of anyway,” he

-added helplessly.</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell nodded and a sly look came into his eyes.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, sir, if you can’t tell, you can’t, and that’s all there

-is to it.” He paused as if to refer to some other matter,

-then apparently thinking better of it, concluded: “You

-have my address, and if anything should occur to you I

-hope you’ll let me know without delay.”</p>

-

-<p>When Speedwell had taken his departure Cheyne sat on

-in the study, thinking over the problem the other had

-presented, but as he did so he had no idea that before

-that very day was out he should himself have received

-information which would clear up the point at issue, as

-well as a good many of the other puzzling features of the

-strange events in which he had become involved.</p>

-

-<p>Shortly after lunch, then, on this day, the eighth after

-the burglary and drugging, Cheyne, on re-entering the

-house after a stroll round the garden, was handed a card

-and told that the owner was waiting to see him in his

-study. Mr. Arthur Lamson, of 17 Acacia Terrace, Bland

-Road, Devonport, proved to be a youngish man of middle

-height and build, with the ruggedly chiselled features

-usually termed hard-bitten, a thick black toothbrush

-mustache, and glasses. Cheyne was not particularly

-prepossessed by his appearance, but he spoke in an educated way

-and had the easy polish of a man of the world.</p>

-

-<p>“I have to apologize for this intrusion, Mr. Cheyne,” he

-began in a pleasant tone, “but the fact is I wondered

-whether I could interest you in a small invention of mine.

-I got your name from Messrs. Holt &amp; Stavenage, the

-Plymouth ship chandlers. They told me you dealt with

-them and how keen you were on yachting, and as my

-invention relates to the navigation of coasting craft, I hoped

-you might allow me to show it to you.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne, who had had some experience of inventors during

-six weeks’ special naval war service after his

-convalescence, made a noncommittal reply.</p>

-

-<p>“I may tell you at once, sir,” Mr. Lamson went on,

-“that I am looking for a keen amateur who would be

-willing to allow me to fit the device to his boat, and who

-would be sufficiently interested to test it under all kinds of

-varying conditions. You see, though the thing works all

-right on a motor launch I have borrowed, I have exhausted

-my leave from my business, and am therefore unable to

-give it a sufficiently lengthy and varying test to find out

-whether it will work continuously under ordinary everyday

-sea-going conditions. If it proves satisfactory I believe it

-would sell, and if so I should of course be willing to take

-into partnership to a certain extent anyone who had

-helped me to develop it.”</p>

-

-<p>In spite of himself Cheyne was impressed. This man was

-different from those with whom he had hitherto come in

-contact. He was not asking for money, or at least he hadn’t

-so far.</p>

-

-<p>“Have you patented the device?” he asked, reckoning

-willingness to spend money on patent fees a test of good

-faith.</p>

-

-<p>“No, not yet,” the visitor answered. “I have taken out

-provisional protection, which will cover the thing for four

-months more. If it promises well after a couple of months’

-test it will be time enough to apply for the full patent.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne nodded. This was a reasonable and proper

-course.</p>

-

-<p>“What is the nature of the device?” he asked.</p>

-

-<p>The young man’s manner grew more alert. He leaned

-forward in his chair and spoke eagerly. Cheyne frowned

-involuntarily as he recognized the symptoms.</p>

-

-<p>“It’s a position indicator. It would, I think, be useful at

-all times, but during fog it would be simply invaluable:

-that is, for coasting work, you know. It would be no good

-for protection against collision with another ship. But for

-clearing a headland or making a harbor in a fog it would

-be worth its weight in gold. The principle is, I believe,

-old, but I have been lucky enough to hit on improvements

-in detail which get over the defects of previous

-instruments. Speaking broadly, a fixed pointer, which may if

-desired carry a pen, rests on a moving chart. The chart is

-connected to a compass and to rollers operated by devices

-for recording the various components of motion: one is

-driven off the propeller, others are set, automatically

-mostly, for such things as wind, run of tide, wave motion

-and so on. The pointer always indicates the position of the

-ship, and as the ship moves, the chart moves to correspond.

-Steering then resolves itself into keeping the pointer on

-the correct line on the chart, and this can be done by

-night without guide lamps, or in a fog, as well as in

-daytime. The apparatus would also assist navigation through

-unbuoyed channels over covered mud flats, or in time of

-war through charted mine fields. I don’t want to be a

-nuisance to you, Mr. Cheyne, but I do wish you would at

-least let me show you the device. You could then decide

-whether you would allow me to fix it to your yacht for

-experimental purposes.”</p>

-

-<p>“I should like to see it,” Cheyne admitted. “If you can

-do all you claim, I certainly think you have a good thing.

-Where is it to be seen?”</p>

-

-<p>“On my launch, or rather, the launch I have borrowed.”

-The young man’s eagerness now almost approached

-excitement. His eyes sparkled and he fidgeted in his chair. “She

-is lying off Johnson’s boat slip at Dartmouth. I left the

-dinghy there.”</p>

-

-<p>“And you want me to go now?”</p>

-

-<p>“If you really will be so kind. I should propose a short

-run down the estuary and along the coast towards

-Exmouth, say for two or three hours. Could you spare so

-much time?”</p>

-

-<p>“Why, yes, I should enjoy it. I shall be back, say,

-between six and seven.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll have you back at Johnson’s slip at six o’clock. I have

-a taxi waiting now, and I’ll arrange with Johnson to call

-another for you as soon as he sees us coming up the

-estuary.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll go,” said Cheyne. “Just a moment until I tell my

-people and get a coat.”</p>

-

-<p>The day was ideal for the run. Spring was in the air.

-The brilliant April sun poured down from an almost

-cloudless sky, against which the sea horizon showed a hard,

-sharp line of intensest blue. Within the estuary it was calm,

-but multitudinous white flecks in the distance showed a

-stiff breeze was blowing out at sea. Cheyne’s spirits rose.

-It was a glorious sport, this of battling with the foaming,

-tumbling waves in the open. How he loved their blue-black

-depth with its suggestion of utter and absolute cleanness,

-the creamy purity of their seething crests, their steady,

-irresistible onward movement, the restless dancing and

-swirling of the wavelets on their flanks! To him it was life to

-feel the buoyant spring of the craft beneath him, to hear

-the crash of the bows into the troughs and the smack of

-the spindrift striking aft. He was glad this Lamson had

-called. Even if the matter of the invention was a washout,

-as he more than half expected, he felt he was going to

-enjoy his afternoon.</p>

-

-<p>Three or four minutes brought them to Johnson’s boat

-slip on the outskirts of Dartmouth. There Lamson drew

-the proprietor aside.</p>

-

-<p>“See here,” he directed, “we’re going out for a run. I

-want you to keep a lookout for us coming back. We shall

-be in about six. As soon as you see us send for a taxi and

-have it here when we get ashore. Now, Mr. Cheyne, if

-you’re ready.”</p>

-

-<p>They climbed down into a small dinghy and Lamson,

-taking the oars, pulled out towards a fair-sized motor

-launch which lay at anchor some couple of hundred yards

-from the shore. She was not a graceful boat, but looked

-strongly built, showing a high bluff bow, a square stern

-and lines suggestive of speed.</p>

-

-<p>“A sea boat,” said Cheyne approvingly. “You surely

-don’t run her by yourself?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, a motoring friend has been giving me a hand. I am

-skipper and he engineer. We hug the coast, you know, and

-don’t go out if it is blowing.”</p>

-

-<p>As he spoke he pulled round the stern of the launch

-upon which Cheyne observed the words “Enid, Devonport.”

-At the same time a tall, well-built figure appeared

-and waved his hand. Lamson brought the dinghy up to

-the tiny steps and a moment later they were on deck.</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Cheyne has come out to see the great invention,

-Tom. I almost hope that he is interested. My friend, Tom

-Lewisham, Mr. Cheyne.”</p>

-

-<p>The two men shook hands.</p>

-

-<p>“Lamson thinks he is going to make his fortune with

-this thing, Mr. Cheyne,” the big man remarked, smiling.

-“We must see that there is no mistake about our

-percentages.”</p>

-

-<p>“If you want a percentage you must work for it, my

-son,” Lamson declared. “Mr. Cheyne must be back by six,

-so get your old rattletrap going and we’ll run down to the

-sea. If you don’t mind, Mr. Cheyne, we’ll get under way

-before I show you the machine, as it takes both of us to

-get started.”</p>

-

-<p>“Right-o,” said Cheyne. “I’ll bear a hand if there’s

-anything I can do.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, that’s good of you. It would be a help if you

-would take the tiller while I’m making all snug. There’s

-a bit of a tumble on outside.”</p>

-

-<p>The boat was certainly a flier. The charmingly situated

-old town dropped rapidly astern while Lamson “made

-snug.” Then he came aft, shouted down through the

-engine room skylight for his friend, and when the latter

-appeared told him to take the tiller.</p>

-

-<p>“Now, Mr. Cheyne,” he went on, “now comes the great

-moment! I have not fixed the apparatus up here in front

-of the tiller, partly to keep it secret and partly to save the

-trouble of making it weatherproof. It’s down in the cabin.

-But you understand it should be up here. Will you come

-down?”</p>

-

-<p>He led the way down a companion to a diminutive

-saloon. “It’s in the sleeping part, still forward,” he pointed,

-and the two men squeezed through a door in the bulkhead

-into a tiny cabin, lit by electric light and with a table in

-the center and two berths on either side. On the table was

-a frame on the top of which was stretched a chart, and a

-light rod ran out from one side to a pointer fixed over the

-middle of the chart.</p>

-

-<p>“You can see that it’s very roughly made,” Lamson went

-on, “but if you look closely I think you’ll find that it works

-all right.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne bent forward and examined the machine, and

-as he did so mystification grew in his mind. The chart was

-not of the estuary of the Dart, nor, stranger still, was it

-connected to rollers. It was simply tacked on what he now

-saw was merely the lid of a box. How it was moved he

-couldn’t see.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t follow this,” he said. “How do you get your

-chart to move if it’s nailed down?”</p>

-

-<p>There was no answer, but as he swung round with a

-sudden misgiving there was a sharp click. Lamson had

-disappeared and the door was shut!</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne seized the handle and turned it violently, only

-to find that the bolt of the lock had been shot, but before

-he could attempt further researches the light went off,

-leaving him in almost pitch darkness. At the same moment

-a significant lurch showed that they were passing from the

-shelter of the estuary into the open sea.</p>

-

-<p>He twisted and tugged at the handle. “Here you,

-Lamson!” he shouted angrily. “What do you mean by this?

-Open the door at once. Confound you! Will you open the

-door!” He began to kick savagely at the woodwork.</p>

-

-<p>A small panel in the partition between the cabins shot

-aside and a beam of light flowed into Cheyne’s. Lamson’s

-face appeared at the opening. He spoke in an old-fashioned,

-stilted way, aping extreme politeness, but his

-mocking smile gave the lie to his protestations.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m sorry, Mr. Cheyne, for this incivility,” he declared,

-“and hope that when you have heard my explanation you

-will pardon me. I must admit I have played a trick on you

-for which I offer the fullest apologies. The story of my

-invention was a fabrication. So far as I am aware no

-apparatus such as I have described exists: certainly I have not

-made one. The truth is that you can do me a service, and

-I took the liberty of inveigling you here in the hope of

-securing your good offices in the matter.”</p>

-

-<p>“You’ve taken a bad way of getting my help,” Cheyne

-shouted wrathfully. “Open the door at once, damn you, or

-I’ll smash it to splinters!”</p>

-

-<p>The other made a deprecatory gesture.</p>

-

-<p>“Really I beg of you, Mr. Cheyne,” he said in mock

-horror at the other’s violence. “Not so fast, if you please,

-sir. I have an answer to both your observations. With

-regard to the door you will—”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne interrupted him with a savage oath and a fierce

-onslaught of kicks on the lower panels of the door. But he

-could make no impression on them, and when in a few

-moments he paused breathless, Lamson went on quietly.</p>

-

-<p>“With regard to the door, as I was about to observe, it

-would be a waste of energy to attempt to smash it to

-splinters, because I have taken the precaution to have it

-covered with steel plates. They are bolted through and the

-nuts are on the outside. I mention this to save you—”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was by this time almost beside himself with rage.

-He expressed his convictions and desires as to Lamson and

-his future in terms which from the point of view of force

-left little to be desired, and persistently reiterated his

-demand that the door be opened as a prelude to further

-negotiation. In reply Lamson shook his head, and

-remarking that as the present seemed an inopportune moment

-for discussing the situation, he could postpone the

-conversation, he closed the panel and left the inner cabin once

-more in darkness.</p>

-

-<p>For an hour Cheyne stormed and fumed, and with

-pieces which he managed to knock off the table tried to

-break through the door, the bulkheads, and the deadlighted

-porthole, all with such a complete absence of success

-that when at last Lamson appeared once more at the

-panel he was constrained to listen, though with suppressed

-fury, to what he had to say.</p>

-

-<p>“You see, it’s this way, Mr. Cheyne,” the erstwhile

-inventor began. “You are completely in our power, and the

-sooner you realize it and let us come to business, the sooner

-you’ll be at liberty again. We don’t wish you any harm;

-please accept my assurances on that. All we want is a

-slight service at your hands, and when you perform it you

-will be free to return home; in fact we shall take you back

-as I said, with profuse apologies for your inconvenience

-and loss of time. But it is only fair to point out that we

-are determined to get what we want, and if you are not

-prepared to come to terms now we can wait until you are.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne, still at a white heat, cursed the other savagely.

-Lamson waited until he had finished, then went on in a

-smooth, almost coaxing tone:</p>

-

-<p>“Now do be reasonable, Mr. Cheyne. You must see that

-your present attitude is only wasting time for us both.

-Not to put too fine a point on it, the situation is this:

-You are there, and you can’t get out, and you can’t attract

-attention to your predicament—that is why the deadlights

-are shipped. It grieves me to say it,” Lamson smiled

-sardonically, “but I must tell you that you will stay there

-until you do what we want. In order to prevent Mrs.

-Cheyne becoming uneasy we shall wire her in your name

-that you have left for an extended trip and won’t be back

-for some days. ‘To Cheyne, Warren Lodge, Dartmouth.

-Gone for yachting cruise down French coast. Address

-Poste Restante, St. Nazaire. All well. Maxwell.’ You see,

-we know exactly how to word it. All suspicion would be

-lulled for some days and then,” he paused and something

-sinister and revolting came into his face, “then it wouldn’t

-matter, for it would be too late. For you see there is neither

-food nor drink in the cabin and we don’t propose to pass

-any in. You won’t get any, Mr. Cheyne, no matter how

-many days you remain aboard: that is,” his manner

-changed, “unless you are reasonable, which of course you

-will be. In that case no harm is done. Now won’t you

-hear our little proposition?”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll see you in hell first,” Cheyne shouted, his rage once

-again overwhelming him. “You’ll pay for this, I can tell

-you. It’ll be the dearest trip you ever had in your life,”

-and he proceeded with threats and curses to demand the

-immediate opening of the door. Lamson, a whimsical smile

-curling his lips, shrugged his shoulders at the outburst,

-and replied by withdrawing his head from the opening

-and sliding the panel to.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne, left once more in almost complete darkness, sat

-silent, his mind full of wrath against his captors. But as

-time passed and they made no sign, his fury somewhat

-evaporated and he began to wonder what it was they

-wanted with him. His rage had made him thirsty, and the

-mere fact that Lamson had stated that nothing would be

-given him to drink, made his thirst more insistent. It was

-impossible, he said to himself, that the scoundrels could

-carry out so diabolical a threat, but in spite of his

-assurance, little misgivings began to creep into his mind. At all

-events the vision of his usual cup of afternoon tea grew

-increasingly alluring. When therefore after what seemed

-to him several hours, but what was in reality about forty

-minutes only, the panel suddenly opened, he admitted

-sullenly that he was prepared to listen to what Lamson had

-to say.</p>

-

-<p>“That’s good,” the young man answered heartily. “If

-you could just see your way to humor us in this little

-matter there is no reason why we should not part friends.”</p>

-

-<p>“There’s no question of friends about it,” Cheyne

-declared sharply. “Cut your chatter and get on to business.

-What do you want?”</p>

-

-<p>A smile suffused Mr. Lamson’s roughhewn

-countenance.</p>

-

-<p>“Now that’s talking,” he cried. “That’s what I’ve been

-hoping to hear. I’ll tell you the whole thing and you’ll

-see it’s only a mere trifle that we’re asking. I can put it in

-five words: We want Arnold Price’s letter.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne stared.</p>

-

-<p>“Arnold Price’s letter?” he repeated in amazement.

-“What on earth do you know about Arnold Price’s letter?”</p>

-

-<p>“We know all about it, Mr. Cheyne—a jolly sight more

-than you do. We know about his giving it to you and the

-conditions under which he asked you to keep it. But you

-don’t know why he did so or what is in it. We do, and

-we can justify our request for it.”</p>

-

-<p>The demand was so unexpected that Cheyne sat for a

-moment in silence, thinking how the letter in question had

-come into his possession. Arnold Price was a junior officer

-in one of the ships belonging to the Fenchurch Street firm

-in whose office Cheyne had spent five years as clerk.

-Business had brought the two young men in contact during the

-visits of Price’s ship, and they had become rather friendly.

-On Cheyne’s leaving for Devonshire they had drifted apart,

-indeed they had only met on one occasion since. That was

-in 1917, shortly before Cheyne received the wound which

-invalided him out of the service. Then he found that his

-former companion had volunteered for the navy on the

-outbreak of hostilities. He had done well, and after a

-varied service he had been appointed third officer of

-the <i>Maurania</i>, an eight-thousand-ton liner carrying passengers,

-as well as stores from overseas to the troops in France.

-The two had spent an evening together in Dunkirk

-renewing their friendship and talking over old times. Then, two

-months later, had come the letter. In it Price asked his

-friend to do him a favor. Some private papers, of interest

-only to himself, had come into his possession and he wished

-these to be safely preserved until after the war. Knowing

-that Cheyne was permanently invalided out, he was

-venturing to send these papers, sealed in the enclosed envelope,

-with the request that Cheyne would keep them for him

-until he reclaimed them or until news of his death was

-received. In the latter case Cheyne was to open the

-envelope and act as he thought fit on the information therein

-contained.</p>

-

-<p>The sealed envelope was of a size which would hold a

-foolscap sheet folded in four, and was fairly bulky. It was

-inscribed: “To Maxwell Cheyne, of Warren Lodge,

-Dartmouth, Devonshire, from Arnold Price, third officer,

-S.S. <i>Maurania</i>,” and on the top was written: “Please retain

-this envelope unopened until I claim it or until you have

-received authentic news of my death. Arnold Price.”

-Cheyne had acknowledged it, promising to carry out the

-instructions, and had then sent the envelope to his bank,

-where it had since remained.</p>

-

-<p>The insinuating voice of Lamson broke through his

-thoughts.</p>

-

-<p>“I think, Mr. Cheyne, when you hear the reasons for our

-request, you will give it all due consideration. For one—”</p>

-

-<p>What? Break faith with Price? Go back on his friend?

-Rage again choked Cheyne’s utterance. Stutteringly he

-cursed the other, once again demanding under blood-curdling

-threats of future vengeance his immediate liberty.

-Through his passion he heard the voice of the other saying

-he was sorry but he really could not help it, the panel slid

-shut, and darkness and silence, save for the sounds of the

-sea, reigned in the <i>Enid’s</i> cabin.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch04">

-

-<h2>Chapter IV. <br> Concerning a Peerage</h2>

-

-<p>When Maxwell Cheyne’s paroxysm of fury diminished

-and he began once more to think collectedly about the

-unpleasant situation in which he found himself, a startling

-idea occurred to him. Here at last, surely, was the

-explanation of his previous adventures! The drugging in the hotel

-in Plymouth, the burglary at Warren Lodge, and now his

-kidnaping on the <i>Enid</i> were all part and parcel of the

-same scheme. It was for Price’s letter that his pocketbook

-was investigated while he lay asleep in the private room

-at the Edgecombe; it was for Price’s letter that his safe

-was broken open and his house searched by other members

-of the conspiracy, and it was for Price’s letter that he now

-lay, a prisoner aboard this infernal launch.</p>

-

-<p>A valuable document, this of Price’s must surely be, if

-it was worth such pains to acquire! Cheyne wondered how

-it had never occurred to him that it might represent the

-motive of the earlier crimes, but he soon realized that he

-had never thought of it as being of interest to anyone

-other than Price. Indeed, Price himself referred to his

-enclosure as “some private papers, of interest to myself

-only.” In that last phrase Price had evidently been wrong,

-and Cheyne wondered whether he had been genuinely

-mistaken, or whether he had from distrust of himself

-deliberately misstated the case in order to minimize the value of

-the document. Price had certainly not shown himself

-anxious to regain it at the earliest possible moment. On

-the conclusion of peace he had not accepted demobilization.

-He had applied for and obtained a transfer to the

-Middle East, where he had commanded one of the

-transports plying between Basrah and Bombay in connection

-with the Mesopotamian campaign. So far as Cheyne knew,

-he was still there. He hadn’t heard of him for many

-months, not, indeed, since he went out.</p>

-

-<p>While Cheyne had been turning over these matters in

-his mind the launch had evidently been approaching land,

-as its rather wild rolling and pitching had gradually ceased

-and it was now floating on an even keel. Cheyne had been

-conscious of the fact despite his preoccupation, but now

-his musings were interrupted by the stopping of the motor

-and a few seconds later by the plunge of the anchor and

-the rattle of the running chain. In the comparative silence

-he shouted himself hoarse, but no one paid him the least

-attention. He heard, however, the dinghy being drawn up

-to the side and presently the sound of oars retreating, but

-whether one or both of his captors had left he could not

-tell. In an hour or two the boat returned, but though he

-again shouted and beat the door of his cabin, no notice

-was taken of his calls.</p>

-

-<p>Then began for Cheyne a period which he could never

-afterwards look back on without a shudder. Never could

-he have believed that a night could be so long, that time

-could drag so slowly. He made himself as comfortable as

-he could in one of the bunks, but as the clothes and the

-mattress had been removed, his efforts were not crowned

-with much success. In spite of his weariness and of the

-growing exhaustion due to hunger, he could not sleep.

-He wanted something to drink. He was surprised to find

-that thirst was not localized in a parched throat or dry

-mouth. His whole being cried out for water. He could not

-have described the sensation, but it was very intense, and

-with every hour that passed it grew stronger. He turned

-and tossed in the narrow bunk, his restlessness and

-discomfort continually increasing. At last he dozed, but only

-to fall into horrible dreams from which he awoke

-unrefreshed and thirstier than ever.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne had plenty of spirit and dash, but he lacked in

-staying power, and when the inevitable period of reaction

-to his excitement and rage came he became plunged in a

-deep depression. These fellows had him in their power. If

-this went on and they really carried out their threat he

-would have to give way sooner or later. He hated to think

-he might betray a trust; he hated still more to be coerced

-into doing anything against his own will, but when, as it

-seemed to him, weeks later, the panel shot back and

-Lamson’s face appeared, his first decision was shaken and

-he waited sullenly to hear what the other had to say.</p>

-

-<p>The man was polite and deprecating rather than blustering,

-and seemed anxious to make it as easy as possible

-for Cheyne to capitulate.</p>

-

-<p>“I hope, Mr. Cheyne,” he began, “you will allow me to

-explain this matter more fully, as I cannot but think you

-have at least to some extent misunderstood our proposal.

-I did not tell you the whole of the facts, but I should like

-to do so now if you will listen.”</p>

-

-<p>He paused expectantly. Cheyne glowered at him, but

-did not reply, and Lamson resumed:</p>

-

-<p>“The matter is somewhat complicated, but I will do my

-best to explain it as briefly as I can. In a word, then, it

-relates to a claim for a peerage. I must admit to you that

-Lamson is not my name—it is Price, and the Arnold Price

-whom you knew during the war is my second cousin.

-Arnold’s uncle and my father’s cousin, St. John Price, is,

-or rather was, in the diplomatic service, and it is through

-his discoveries that the present situation has arisen.</p>

-

-<p>“It happened that this St. John Price had occasion to

-visit South Africa on diplomatic business during the war,

-and as luck would have it he took his return passage on

-the <i>Maurania</i>, the ship on which his nephew Arnold was

-third officer. But he never reached England. He met his

-death on the journey under circumstances which involved

-a coincidence too remarkable to have happened otherwise

-than in real life.”</p>

-

-<p>In spite of himself Cheyne was interested. Price glanced

-at him and went on:</p>

-

-<p>“One night at the end of the voyage when they were

-running without lights up the Channel, a large steamer

-going in the same direction as themselves suddenly loomed

-up out of the darkness and struck them heavily on the

-starboard quarter. My cousin was on deck, though not in

-charge. He saw the outlines of the vessel as she was closing

-in, and he also saw that a passenger was standing at the

-rail just where the contact was about to take place. At the

-risk of his own life he sprang forward and dragged the man

-back. Unfortunately he was not in time to save him, for a

-falling spar broke his back and only just missed killing

-Arnold. Then, as you may have guessed from what I said,

-it turned out that the passenger was none other than St.

-John Price. My cousin had tried to save his own uncle.”</p>

-

-<p>Once more Price paused, but Cheyne still remaining

-silent, he continued:</p>

-

-<p>“St. John lingered for some hours, during most of which

-time he was conscious, and it was then that he told Arnold

-about his belief, that he, Arnold, was heir to the barony of

-Hull. I don’t know, Mr. Cheyne, if you are aware that the

-present Lord Hull is a man well on to eighty and is in

-failing health. He has no known heir, and unless some

-claimant comes forward speedily, the title will in the

-course of nature become extinct. As you probably know

-also, Lord Hull is a man of enormous wealth. St. John Price

-believed that he, Arnold, and myself were all descended

-from the eldest son of Francis, the fifth Baron Hull. This

-man had lived an evil, dissolute life, and England having

-become too hot to hold him, he had sailed for South Africa

-in the early part of the last century. On his father’s death

-search was made for him, but without result, and the

-second son, Alwyn, inherited. St. John had after many

-years’ labor traced what he believed was a lineal descent

-from the scapegrace, and he had utilized his visit to South

-Africa to make further inquiries. There he had unearthed

-the record of a marriage, which, he believed, completed

-the proofs he sought. As he knew he was dying, he handed

-over the attested copy of the marriage certificate to Arnold,

-at the same time making a new will leaving all the other

-documents in the case to Arnold also.</p>

-

-<p>“When Arnold received his next leave he went fully into

-the matter with his solicitor, only to find that one

-document, the register of a birth, was missing. Without this he

-could scarcely hope to win his case. The evidence of the

-other papers tended to show that the birth had taken place

-in India, probably at Bombay, and Arnold therefore

-applied for a transfer into a service which brought him to

-that country, in the hope that he would have an opportunity

-to pursue his researches at first hand. It was there

-that I met him—I am junior partner in Swanson, Reid &amp;

-Price’s of that city—and he told me all that I have told

-you.</p>

-

-<p>“Before going to the East he sealed up the papers referring

-to the matter and sent them to you. If you will pardon

-my saying so, I think that there he made a mistake. But he

-explained that he knew too much about lawyers to leave

-anything in their hands, that they would fight the case for

-their own fees whether there was any chance of winning it

-or not, and that he wanted the papers to be in the hands of

-an honest man in case of his death.</p>

-

-<p>“I pointed out that I was interested in the matter also,

-but he said No, that he was the heir and that during his

-life the affair concerned him alone. Needless to say, we

-parted on bad terms.</p>

-

-<p>“Now, Mr. Cheyne, you can see why I want those papers.

-Though Arnold is my cousin I doubt his honesty. I want

-to see exactly how we both stand. I want nothing but what

-is fair—as a matter of fact I can get nothing but what is

-fair—the law wouldn’t allow it. But I don’t want to be

-done. If I had the papers I would show them to a first-rate

-lawyer. If Arnold is entitled to succeed he will do so, if I

-am the heir I shall, if neither of us no harm is done. We

-can only get what the law allows us. But in any case I

-give my word of honor that, if I succeed, Arnold shall

-never want for anything in reason.”</p>

-

-<p>Price was speaking earnestly and his manner carried

-conviction to Cheyne. Without waiting for a reply he

-proceeded.</p>

-

-<p>“You, Mr. Cheyne, if you will excuse my saying it, are

-an outsider in the matter. Whether Arnold or I or neither

-of us succeeds is nothing to you. You want to do only what

-is fair to Arnold, and you have my most solemn promise

-that that is all I propose. If you enable me to test our

-respective positions by handing over the papers to me you

-will not be letting Arnold down.”</p>

-

-<p>When Price ceased speaking there was silence between

-the two men as Cheyne thought over what he had heard.

-Price’s manner was convincing, and as far as Cheyne could

-form an opinion, the story might be true. It certainly

-explained the facts adequately, and Cheyne believed that

-the statements about Lord Hull were correct. All the same

-he did not believe this man was out for a square deal. If

-he could only get what the law allowed, would not the

-same apply whether he or Arnold conducted the affair?

-Cheyne, moreover, was still sore from his treatment, and

-he determined he would not discuss the matter until he

-had received satisfactory replies to one or two personal

-questions.</p>

-

-<p>“Did you drug me in the Edgecombe Hotel in Plymouth

-a week ago and then go through my pockets, and did you

-the same evening burgle my house, break open my safe,

-and mishandle my servants?”</p>

-

-<p>It was not exactly a tactful question, but Price answered

-it cheerfully and without hesitation.</p>

-

-<p>“Not in person, but I admit my agents did these things.

-For these also I am anxious to apologize.”</p>

-

-<p>“Your apologies won’t prevent your having a lengthened

-acquaintance with the inside of a prison,” Cheyne snarled,

-his rage flickering up at the recollection of his injuries.

-“How do your confederates come to be interested?”</p>

-

-<p>“Bought,” the other admitted sweetly. “I had no other

-way of getting help. I have paid them twenty pounds on

-account and they will get a thousand guineas each if my

-claim is upheld.”</p>

-

-<p>“A self-confessed thief and crook as well as a liar! And

-you expect me to believe in your good intentions towards

-Arnold Price!”</p>

-

-<p>An unpleasant look passed across the other’s face, but

-he spoke calmly.</p>

-

-<p>“That may be all very well and very true if you like,

-but it doesn’t advance the situation. The question now is:

-Are you prepared to hand over the letter? Nothing else

-seems to me to matter.”</p>

-

-<p>“Why did you not come to me like an ordinary honest

-man and tell me your story? What induced you to launch

-out into all this complicated network of crime?”</p>

-

-<p>Price smiled whimsically.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, you might surely guess that,” he answered.

-“Suppose you had refused to give me the letter, how was I to

-know that you would not have put it beyond my reach?

-I couldn’t take the risk.”</p>

-

-<p>“Suppose I refuse to give it to you now?”</p>

-

-<p>“You won’t, Mr. Cheyne. No one in your position could.

-Circumstances are too strong for you, and you can hand it

-over and retain your honor absolutely untarnished. I do

-not wish to urge you to a decision. If you would prefer to

-take today to think it over, by all means do so. I sent

-the wire to Mrs. Cheyne shortly before six last night, so

-she will not be uneasy about you.”</p>

-

-<p>Though the words were politely spoken, the threat

-behind them was unmistakable and fell with sinister intent

-on the listener’s ears. Rapidly Cheyne considered the

-situation. This ruffian was right. No one in such a situation

-could resist indefinitely. It was true he could refuse his

-consent at the moment, but the question would come up

-again and again until at last he would have to give way.

-He knew it, and he felt that unless there was a strong

-chance of victory, he could not stand the hours of suffering

-which a further refusal would entail. No, bitter as the

-conclusion was, he felt he must for the moment admit

-defeat, trusting later to getting his own back. He turned

-back to Price.</p>

-

-<p>“I haven’t got the letter here. I can only get it for you

-if you put me ashore.”</p>

-

-<p>That this was a victory for Price was evident, but the

-young man showed no elation. He carefully avoided

-anything in the nature of a taunt, and spoke in a quiet,

-businesslike way.</p>

-

-<p>“We might be able to arrange that. Where is the letter?”</p>

-

-<p>“At my bank in Dartmouth.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then the matter is quite simple. All you have to do is

-to write to the manager to send the letter to an address

-I shall give you. Directly you do so you shall have the best

-food and drink on the launch, and directly the letter is in

-our hands you will be put ashore close to your home.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne still hesitated.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll do it provided you can prove to me your statements.

-How am I to know that you will keep your word? How

-am I to know that you won’t get the letter and then

-murder me?”</p>

-

-<p>“I’m afraid you can’t know that. I would gladly prove

-it to you, but you must see that it’s just not possible. I

-give you my solemn word of honor and you’ll have to

-accept it because there is nothing else you can do.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne demurred further, but as Price showed signs of

-retreating and leaving him to think it over until the

-evening, he hastily agreed to write the letter. Immediately the

-electric light came on in his cabin and Price passed in a

-couple of sheets of notepaper and envelopes. Cheyne gazed

-at them in surprise. They were of a familiar silurian gray

-and the sheets bore in tiny blue embossed letters the words

-“Warren Lodge, Dartmouth, S. Devon.”</p>

-

-<p>“Why, it’s my own paper,” he exclaimed, and Price with

-a smile admitted that in view of some development like

-the present, his agents had taken the precaution to annex

-a few sheets when paying their call to Cheyne’s home.</p>

-

-<p>“If you will ask your manager to send the letter to

-Herbert Taverner, Esq., Royal Hotel, Weymouth, it will

-meet the case. Taverner is my agent, and as soon as it is

-in his hands I will set you ashore at Johnson’s wharf.”</p>

-

-<p>Seeing there was no help for it, Cheyne wrote the letter.

-Price read it carefully, then sealed it in its envelope.

-Immediately after he handed through the panel a tumbler of

-whisky and water, then hurried off, saying he was going

-to dispatch the letter and bring Cheyne his breakfast.</p>

-

-<p>Oh, the unspeakable delight of that drink! Cheyne

-thought he had never before experienced any sensation

-approaching it in satisfaction. He swallowed it in great

-gulps, and when in a few moments Price returned, he

-demanded more, and again more.</p>

-

-<p>His thirst assuaged, hunger asserted itself, and for the

-next half-hour Cheyne had the time of his life as Price

-handed in through the panel a plate of smoking ham and

-eggs, fragrant coffee, toast, butter, marmalade and the like.

-At last with a sigh of relief Cheyne lit his pipe, while Price

-passed in blankets and rugs to make up a bed in one of

-the bunks. Some books and magazines followed and a handbell,

-which Price told him to ring if he wanted anything.</p>

-

-<p>Comfortable in body and fairly easy in mind, Cheyne

-made up his bed and promptly fell asleep. It was

-afternoon when he awoke, and on ringing the bell, Price

-appeared with a well-cooked lunch. The evening passed

-comfortably if tediously and that night Cheyne slept well.</p>

-

-<p>Next day and next night dragged slowly away. Cheyne

-was well looked after and supplied with everything he

-required, but the confinement grew more and more

-irksome. However, he could not help himself and he had to

-admit he might have fared worse, as he lay smoking in his

-bunk and brooding over schemes to get even with the men

-who had tricked him.</p>

-

-<p>About half-past ten on the second morning he suddenly

-heard oars approaching, followed by the sounds of a boat

-coming alongside and some one climbing on board. A few

-moments later Price appeared at the panel.</p>

-

-<p>“You will be pleased to hear, Mr. Cheyne, that we have

-received the letter safely. We are getting under way at

-once and you will be home in less than three hours.”</p>

-

-<p>Presently the motor started, and soon the slow, easy roll

-showed they were out in the open breasting the Channel

-ground swell. After a couple of hours, Price appeared with

-his customary tray.</p>

-

-<p>“We are just coming into the estuary of the Dart,” he

-said. “I thought perhaps you would have a bit of lunch

-before going ashore.”</p>

-

-<p>The meal, like its fellows, was surprisingly well cooked

-and served, and Cheyne did full justice to it. By the time

-he had finished the motion of the boat had subsided and

-it was evident they were in sheltered waters. Some minutes

-later the motor stopped, the anchor was dropped, and

-someone got into a boat and rowed off. A quarter of an

-hour passed and then the boat returned, and to Cheyne’s

-misgivings and growing concern, the motor started again.

-But after a very few minutes it once more stopped and

-Price appeared at the panel.</p>

-

-<p>“Now, Mr. Cheyne, the time has come for us to say

-good-bye. For obvious reasons I am afraid we shall have

-to ask you to row yourself ashore, but the tide is flowing

-and you will have no difficulty in that. But before parting

-I wish to warn you very earnestly for your own sake and

-your own safety not to attempt to follow us or to set the

-police on our track. Believe me, I am not speaking idly

-when I assure you that we cannot brook interference with

-our plans. We wish to avoid ‘removals’,” he lingered over

-the word and a sinister gleam came into his eyes, “but

-please understand we shall not hesitate if there is no other

-way. And if you try to give trouble there will be in your

-case no other way. Take my advice and be wise enough

-to forget this little episode.” He took a small automatic

-pistol from his pocket and balanced it before the panel.

-“I warn you most earnestly that if you attempt to make

-trouble it will mean your death. And with regard to trying

-to follow us, please remember that this launch has the

-heels of any craft in the district and that we have a safe

-hiding-place not far away.”</p>

-

-<p>As Price finished speaking he unlocked and threw open

-the cabin door, motioning his prisoner to follow him on

-deck. There Cheyne saw that they were far down the

-estuary, in fact, nearly opposite Warren Lodge and a mile or

-more from the town.</p>

-

-<p>“I thought you were going to take me to Johnson’s

-jetty,” he remarked.</p>

-

-<p>“An obvious precaution,” the other returned smoothly.

-“I trust you won’t mind.”</p>

-

-<p>The freshness and the freedom of the deck were inexpressibly

-delightful to Cheyne after his long confinement in

-the stuffy cabin. He stood drawing deep draughts of the

-keen invigorating air into his lungs, as he gazed at the

-familiar shores of the estuary, lighted up in the brilliant

-April sunlight. Nature seemed in an optimistic mood and

-Cheyne, in spite of his experiences and Price’s gruesome

-remarks, felt optimistic also. He still felt he would devote

-all his energies to getting even with the scoundrels who

-had robbed him, but he no longer regarded them with a

-sullen hatred. Rather the view of the affair as a game in

-which he was pitting his wits against theirs gained force

-in his mind, and he looked forward with zest to turning

-the tables upon them in the not too distant future.</p>

-

-<p>In the launch’s dinghy, which was made fast astern, was

-Lewisham, engaged in untying the painter of a second

-dinghy which bore on its stern board the words “S.

-Johnson, Dartmouth.” The explanation of the starting and

-stopping of the motor now became clear. The conspirators

-had evidently gone in to pick up this boat and had towed

-it down the estuary so as to insure their escape before

-Cheyne could reach the shore to lodge any information

-against them.</p>

-

-<p>The painter untied, Lewisham passed it aboard the

-launch and Price, drawing the boat up to the gunwale,

-motioned Cheyne into it.</p>

-

-<p>“As I said, I’m sorry we shall have to ask you to row

-yourself ashore, but the run of the tide will help you.

-Good-bye, Mr. Cheyne. I deeply regret all the inconvenience

-you have suffered, and most earnestly I urge you to

-regard the warning which I have given you.”</p>

-

-<p>As he spoke he threw the end of the painter into the

-dinghy and, the launch’s motor starting, she drew quickly

-ahead, leaving Cheyne seated in the small boat.</p>

-

-<p>Full of an idea which had just flashed into his mind,

-the latter seized the oars and began pulling with all his

-might not for Johnson’s jetty, but for the shore immediately

-opposite. But try as he would, he did not reach it

-before the launch <i>Enid</i> had become a mere dot on the

-seaward horizon.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch05">

-

-<h2>Chapter V. <br> An Amateur Sleuth</h2>

-

-<p>Cheyne’s great idea was that instead of proceeding

-directly to the police station and lodging an information

-against his captors, as he had at first intended, he should

-himself attempt to follow them to their lair. To enter upon

-a battle of wits with such men would be a sport more

-thrilling than big game hunting, more exciting than war,

-and if by his own unaided efforts he could bring about

-their undoing he would not only restore his self-respect,

-which had suffered a nasty jar, but might even recover

-for Arnold Price the documents which he required for his

-claim to the barony of Hull.</p>

-

-<p>Whether he was wise in this decision was another

-matter, but with Maxwell Cheyne impulse ruled rather than

-colder reason, the desire of the moment rather than

-adherence to calculated plan. Therefore directly a way in which

-he could begin the struggle occurred to him, he was all

-eagerness to set about carrying it out.</p>

-

-<p>The essence of his plan was haste, and he therefore bent

-lustily to his oars, sending the tiny craft bounding over

-the wavelets of the estuary and leaving a wake of bubbles

-from its foaming stem. In a few minutes he had reached

-the shore immediately beneath Warren Lodge, tied the

-painter round a convenient boulder, and racing over the

-rocky beach, had set off running towards the house.</p>

-

-<p>It was a short though stiff climb, but he did not spare

-himself, and he reached the garden wall within three

-minutes of leaving the boat. As he turned in through the gate

-he looked back over the panorama of sea, the whole

-expanse of which was visible from this point, measuring

-with his eye the distance to Inner Froward Point, the

-headland at the opposite side of the bay, around which

-the <i>Enid</i> had just disappeared. She was going east, up channel,

-but he did not think she was traveling fast enough to

-defeat his plans.</p>

-

-<p>Another minute brought him to the house, and there,

-in less time than it takes to tell, he had seen his sister,

-explained that he might not be back that night, obtained

-some money, donned his leggings and waterproof, and

-starting up his motor bike, had set off to ride into

-Dartmouth.</p>

-

-<p>Pausing for a moment at the boat slip to tell Johnson of

-the whereabouts of his dinghy, he reached the ferry and

-got across the river to Kingswear with the minimum of

-delay possible. Then once more mounting his machine, he

-rode rapidly off towards the east.</p>

-

-<p>The land lying eastward of Dartmouth forms a peninsula

-shaped roughly like an inverted cone, truncated, and

-connected to the mainland by a broad isthmus at the

-northwest corner. The west side is bounded by the river

-Dart, with Dartmouth and Kingswear to the southwest,

-while on the other three sides is the sea. Brixham is a

-small town at the northeast corner, while further north

-beyond the isthmus are the larger towns of Paignton and,

-across Tor Bay, Torquay.</p>

-

-<p>Most of the ground on the peninsula is high, and the

-road from Kingswear in the southwest corner to Brixham

-in the northeast crosses a range of hills from which a good

-view of Tor Bay and the sea to the north and east is

-obtainable. Should the <i>Enid</i> have been bound for Torquay,

-Teignmouth, Exmouth, or any of the seaports close by,

-she would pass within view of this road, whereas if she

-was going right up Channel past Portland Bill she would

-go nearly due east from the Froward Points. Cheyne’s hope

-was that he should reach this viewpoint before she would

-have had time to get out of sight had she been on the

-former course, so that her presence or absence would

-indicate the route she was pursuing.</p>

-

-<p>But when, having reached the place, he found that no

-trace of the <i>Enid</i> was to be seen, he realized that he had

-made a mistake. From Inner Froward Point to Brixham

-was only about seven miles, to Paignton about ten, and

-to Torquay eleven or twelve. The longest of these distances

-the launch should do in about twenty-five minutes, and as

-in spite of all his haste no less than forty-seven minutes

-had elapsed since he stepped into the dinghy, the test was

-evidently useless.</p>

-

-<p>But having come so far, he was not going to turn back

-without making some further effort. The afternoon was

-still young, the day was fine, he had had his lunch and

-cycling was pleasant. He would ride along the coast and

-make some inquiries.</p>

-

-<p>He dropped down the hill into Brixham, and turning

-to the left, pulled up at the little harbor. A glance showed

-him that the <i>Enid</i> was not there. He therefore turned his

-machine, and starting once more, ran the five miles odd

-to Paignton at something well above the legal limit.</p>

-

-<p>Inquiries at the pier produced no result, but as he turned

-away he had a stroke of unexpected luck. Meeting a

-coastguard, he stopped and questioned him, and was overjoyed

-when the man told him that though no launch had come

-into Paignton that morning, he had about three-quarters

-of an hour earlier seen one crossing the bay from the south

-and evidently making for Torquay.</p>

-

-<p>Quivering with eagerness, Cheyne once more started up

-his bicycle. He took the three miles to Torquay at a

-reckless speed and there received his reward. Lying at moorings

-in the inner harbor was the <i>Enid</i>.</p>

-

-<p>Leaving the bicycle in charge of a boy, Cheyne stepped

-up to a group of longshoremen and made his inquiries.

-Yes, the launch there had just come in, half an hour or

-more back. Two men had come off her and had handed

-her over to Hugh Leigh, the boatman. Leigh was a tall

-stout man with a black beard: in fact, there he was

-himself behind that yellow and white boat.</p>

-

-<p>Impetuous though he was, Cheyne’s knowledge of

-human nature told him that in dealing with his fellows

-the more haste frequently meant the less speed. He

-therefore curbed his impatience and took a leisurely tone with

-the boatman.</p>

-

-<p>“Good-day to you,” he began. “I see you have the <i>Enid</i>

-there. Is she long in?”</p>

-

-<p>“’Bout ’arf an hour, sir,” the man returned.</p>

-

-<p>“I was to have met her,” Cheyne went on, “but I’m

-afraid I have missed my friends. You don’t happen to

-know which direction they went in?”</p>

-

-<p>“Took a keb, sir: taxi. Went towards the station.”</p>

-

-<p>The station! That was an idea at least worth investigating.

-He slipped the man a couple of shillings lest his

-good offices should be required in the future, and hurrying

-back to his bicycle was soon at the place in question.

-Here, though he could find no trace of his quarry, he

-learned that a train had left for Newton Abbot at 3:33—five

-minutes earlier. It looked very much as if his friends

-had traveled by it.</p>

-

-<p>For those who are not clear as to the geography of

-South Devon, it may be explained that Newton Abbot lies

-on the main line of the Great Western Railway between

-Paddington and Cornwall, with Exeter twenty miles to the

-northeast and Plymouth some thirty odd to the southwest.

-At Newton Abbot the line throws off a spur, which, passing

-through Torquay and Paignton, has its terminus at

-Kingswear, from which there is a ferry connection to Dartmouth

-on the opposite side of the river. From Torquay to Newton

-Abbot is only about six miles, and there is a good road

-between the two. Cheyne, therefore, hearing that the train

-had left only five minutes earlier and knowing that there

-would be a delay at the junction waiting for the main line

-train, at once saw that he had a good chance of overtaking

-it.</p>

-

-<p>He did not stop to ask questions, but leaping once more

-on his machine, did the six miles at the highest speed he

-dared. At precisely 4:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> he pushed the bicycle

-into Newton Abbot station, and handing half a crown to a

-porter, told him to look after it until his return.</p>

-

-<p>Hasty inquiries informed him that the train with which

-that from Torquay connected was a slow local from

-Plymouth to Exeter. It had not yet arrived, but was due

-directly. It stopped for seven minutes, being scheduled out

-at 4:10 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> On chance Cheyne bought a third single

-to Exeter, and putting up his collar, pulling down his hat

-over his eyes and affecting a stoop, he passed on to the

-platform. A few people were waiting, but a glance told

-him that neither Price nor Lewisham was among them.</p>

-

-<p>As, however, they might be watching from the shelter

-of one of the waiting rooms, he strolled away towards the

-Exeter end of the platform. As he did so the train came in

-from Plymouth, the engine stopping just opposite where he

-was standing. He began to move back, so as to keep a

-sharp eye on those getting in. But at once a familiar figure

-caught his eye and he stood for a moment motionless.</p>

-

-<p>The coach next the engine was a third, and in the corner

-of its fourth compartment sat Lewisham!</p>

-

-<p>Fortunately he was sitting with his back to the engine

-and he did not see Cheyne approaching from behind.

-Fortunately, also, the opposite corner was occupied by a lady,

-as, had Price been there, Cheyne would unquestionably

-have been discovered.</p>

-

-<p>Retreating quickly, but with triumph in his heart,

-Cheyne got into the end compartment of the coach. It was

-already occupied by three other men, two sitting in the

-corner seats next the platform, the third with his back to

-the engine at the opposite end. Cheyne dropped into the

-remaining corner seat—facing the engine and next the

-corridor. He did not then realize the important issues that

-hung on his having taken up this position, but later he

-marveled at the lucky chance which had placed him there.</p>

-

-<p>As the train proceeded he had an opportunity, for the

-first time since embarking on this wild chase, of calmly

-considering the position, and he at once saw that the fugitives’

-moves up to the present had been dictated by their

-circumstances and were almost obligatory.</p>

-

-<p>First, he now understood that they <em>must</em> have landed at

-Brixham, Paignton, or Torquay, and of these Torquay was

-obviously most suitable to their purpose, being larger than

-the others and their arrival therefore attracting correspondingly

-less attention. But they must have landed at one of

-the three places, as they were the only ports which they

-could reach before he, Cheyne, would have had time to

-give the alarm. Suppose he had lodged information with

-the police immediately on getting ashore, it would have

-been simply impossible for the others to have entered any

-other port without fear of arrest. But at Paignton or

-Torquay they were safe. By no possible chance could the

-machinery of the law have been set in motion in time to

-apprehend them.</p>

-

-<p>He saw also how the men came to be seated in the train

-from Plymouth when it reached Newton Abbot, and here

-again he was lost in admiration at the way in which the

-pair had laid their plans. The first station on the Plymouth

-side of Newton Abbot was Totnes, and from Torquay to

-Totnes by road was a matter of only some ten miles. They

-would just have had time to do the distance, and there

-was no doubt that Totnes was the place to which their taxi

-had taken them. In the event, therefore, of an immediate

-chase, there was every chance of the scent being temporarily

-lost at Torquay.</p>

-

-<p>These thoughts had scarcely passed through Cheyne’s

-mind when the event happened which caused him to

-congratulate himself on the seat he was occupying. At the

-extreme end of the coach, immediately in advance of his

-compartment, was the lavatory, and at this moment, just as

-they were stopping at Teignmouth, a man carrying a small

-kitbag passed along the corridor and entered. Approaching

-from behind Cheyne, he did not see the latter’s face, but

-Cheyne saw him. It was Price!</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne took an engagement book from his pocket and

-bent low over it, lest the other should recognize him on

-his return. But Price remained in the lavatory until they

-reached Dawlish, and here another stroke of luck was in

-store for Cheyne. At Dawlish, at which they stopped a few

-moments later, his vis-à-vis alighted, and Cheyne

-immediately changed his seat. When, therefore, just before the

-train started, Price left the lavatory, he again approached

-Cheyne from behind and again failed to see his face.</p>

-

-<p>As he passed down the corridor Cheyne stared at him.

-While in the lavatory he had effected a wondrous change

-in his appearance. Gone now was the small dark mustache

-and the glasses, his hat was of a different type and his

-overcoat of a different color. Cheyne watched him pause

-hesitatingly at the door of the next compartment and finally

-enter.</p>

-

-<p>For some moments as the train rattled along towards

-Exeter, Cheyne failed to grasp the significance of this last

-move. Then he saw that it was, as usual, part of a

-well-thought-out scheme. Approaching Teignmouth, Price had

-evidently left his compartment—almost certainly the

-fourth, where Lewisham sat—as if he were about to alight

-at the station. Instead of doing so, he had entered the

-lavatory. Disguised, or, more probably, with a previous

-disguise removed, he had left it before the train started from

-Dawlish, and appearing at the door of the second

-compartment, had attempted to convey the idea, almost

-certainly with success, that he had just joined the train.</p>

-

-<p>A further thought made Cheyne swing across again to

-the seat facing the engine. They were approaching

-Starcross. Would Lewisham adopt the same subterfuge at this

-station? But he did not, and they reached Exeter without

-further adventure.</p>

-

-<p>The train going no further, all passengers had to alight.

-Cheyne was in no hurry to move, and by the time he left

-the carriage Price and Lewisham were already far down

-the platform. He wished that he in his turn could find a

-false mustache and glasses, but he realized that if he kept

-his face hidden, his clothes were already a satisfactory

-disguise. He watched the two men begin to pace the

-platform, and soon felt satisfied that they were proceeding

-by a later train.</p>

-

-<p>They had reached Exeter at 5:02 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> Two expresses

-left the station shortly after, the 5:25 for Liverpool, Manchester

-and the north, and the 5:42 for London. Cheyne sat down

-on a deserted seat near the end of the platform and bent

-his head over his notebook while he watched the others.</p>

-

-<p>The 5:25 for the north arrived and left, and still the

-two men continued pacing up and down. “For London,”

-thought Cheyne, and slipping off to the booking hall he

-bought a first single for Paddington. If the men were

-traveling third, he would be better in a different class.</p>

-

-<p>When the London express rolled majestically in, Price

-and Lewisham entered a third near the front of the train.

-Satisfied that he was still unobserved, Cheyne got into the

-first class diner farther back. He had not been very close

-to the men, but he noticed that Lewisham had also made

-some alteration in his appearance, which explained his not

-having changed in the lavatory on the local train.</p>

-

-<p>The express was very fast, stopping only once—at Taunton.

-Here Cheyne, having satisfied himself that his quarry

-had not alighted, settled himself with an easy mind to

-await the arrival at Paddington. He dined luxuriously, and

-when at nine precisely they drew up in the terminus, he

-felt extremely fit and ready for any adventure that might

-offer itself.</p>

-

-<p>From the pages of the many works of detective fiction

-which he had at one time or another digested, he knew

-exactly what to do. Jumping out as the train came to rest,

-he hurried along the platform until he had a view of the

-carriage in which the others had traveled. Then, keeping

-carefully in the background, he awaited developments.</p>

-

-<p>Soon he saw the men alight, cross the platform and engage

-a taxi. This move also he was prepared for. Taking a taxi

-in his turn, he bent forward and said to the driver what

-the sleuths of his novels had so often said to their drivers

-in similar circumstances: “Follow that taxi. Ten bob extra

-if you keep it in sight.”</p>

-

-<p>The driver looked at him curiously, but all he said was:

-“Right y’are, guv’nor,” and they slipped out at the heels of

-the other vehicle into the crowded streets.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne’s driver was a skillful man and they kept steadily

-behind the quarry, not close enough to excite suspicion,

-but too near to run any risk of being shaken off. Cheyne

-was chuckling excitedly and hugging himself at the success

-of his efforts thus far when, with the extraordinary

-capriciousness that Fate so often shows, his luck turned.</p>

-

-<p>They had passed down Praed Street and turned up

-Edgware Road, and it was just where the latter merges

-into Maida Vale that the blow fell. Here the street was up

-and the traffic was congested. Both vehicles slackened down,

-but whereas the leader got through without a stop,

-Cheyne’s was held up to give the road to cross traffic. In

-vain Cheyne chafed and fretted; the raised arm of the

-law could not be disregarded, and when at last they were

-free to go forward, all trace of the other taxi had vanished.</p>

-

-<p>In vain the driver put on a spurt. There were scores of

-vehicles ahead and a thousand and one turnings off the

-straight road. In a few minutes Cheyne had to recognize

-that the game was up and that he had lost his chance.</p>

-

-<p>He stopped and took counsel with his driver, with the

-result that he decided to go back to Paddington in the

-hope that when the other taxi had completed its run it

-would return to the station rank. He had been near enough

-to take its number, and his man was able to give him the

-other driver’s address, in case the latter went home instead

-of to the station.</p>

-

-<p>Having reserved a room at the Station Hotel and written

-a brief note to his sister saying that his business had

-brought him to London and that he would let her know

-when he was returning, he lit his pipe, and turning up the

-collar of his coat, fell to pacing up and down the platform

-alongside the cab rank. He was relieved to find that

-vehicles were still turning up and taking their places at the

-end of the line, and he eagerly scanned the number plate

-of each arrival. For endless aeons of time he seemed to

-wait, and then at last, a few minutes before ten, his

-patience was rewarded. Taxi Z1729 suddenly appeared

-and drew into position.</p>

-

-<p>In a moment Cheyne was beside its driver.</p>

-

-<p>“Ten bob over the fare if you’ll take me quickly to where

-you set down those two men you got off the Cornish

-express,” he said in a low eager voice.</p>

-

-<p>This man also looked at him curiously and answered,

-“Right y’are, guv’nor,” then having paused to say something

-to the driver of the leading car on the rank, they

-turned out into Praed Street.</p>

-

-<p>The man drove rapidly along Edgware Road, through

-Maida Vale and on into a part of the town unfamiliar to

-Cheyne. As they rattled through the endless streets Cheyne

-instructed him not to stop at the exact place, but slightly

-short of it, as he wished to complete the journey on foot.

-It seemed a very long distance, but still the man kept

-steadily on. The town was now taking on a suburban

-appearance and here and there vacant building lots were

-to be seen.</p>

-

-<p>Presently they passed an ornate building which Cheyne

-recongized as the tube station at Hendon, and shortly

-afterwards the vehicle stopped. Cheyne got out and looked

-about him, while the driver explained the lie of the land.</p>

-

-<p>They had turned at right angles off the main thoroughfare

-leading from town into a road which bore the imposing

-title of “Hopefield Avenue.” This penetrated into what

-seemed to be an estate recently handed over to the

-jerry-builder, for all around were small detached and

-semi-detached houses in various stages of construction. Many

-were complete and occupied, but in scores of other cases

-the vacant lots still remained, untouched save for their

-“To let for building” signboards.</p>

-

-<p>Leaving the taxi in a deserted crossroad, the driver

-signified to Cheyne that they should go forward on foot.

-A hundred yards farther on they reached another cross-road—the

-place was laid out in squares like an American city—and

-there the driver pointed to a house in the opposite

-angle, intimating that this was their goal.</p>

-

-<p>It was a small detached villa surrounded by a privet

-hedge and a few small trees and shrubs, evidently not long

-planted. The two adjoining lots, both along Hopefield

-Avenue and down the crossroad—Alwyn Road, Cheyne

-saw its name was—were vacant. Facing it on both streets

-were finished and occupied houses, but in the angle

-diagonally opposite was a new building whose walls were only

-half up.</p>

-

-<p>Thrilled with eager anticipation and excitement, Cheyne

-dismissed the driver with his ten-shilling tip and then

-turned to examine his surroundings more carefully, and to

-devise a plan of campaign for his attack on the enemy’s

-stronghold.</p>

-

-<p>He began by crossing Alwyn Road and walking along

-Hopefield Avenue past the house, while he examined it as

-well as he could by the light of the street lamps. It was a

-two-story building of rather pleasing design, apparently

-quite new, and conforming to the type of small suburban

-villas springing up by thousands all around London. As

-far as he could make out it had the usual rectangular plan,

-a red-tiled roof with deep overhanging eaves and a large

-porch with above it a balcony, roofed over but open in

-front. A narrow walk edged with flower beds led across the

-forty or fifty feet of lawn between the road and the hall

-door. On the green gate Cheyne could just make out the

-words “Laurel Lodge” in white letters. So far as he could

-see the house appeared to be deserted, the windows and

-fanlight being in darkness. After the two vacant lots was

-a half-finished house.</p>

-

-<p>Returning presently, he passed the house again, this time

-rounding its corner and walking down Alwyn Road.

-Between the first vacant lot and Laurel Lodge ran a

-narrow lane, evidently intended to be the approach to the

-back premises of the future houses.</p>

-

-<p>Glancing round and seeing that no one was in sight,

-Cheyne slipped into this lane, and crouching behind a

-shrub, examined the back of Laurel Lodge.</p>

-

-<p>It was very dark in the lane. Presently it would be

-lighter, as a quadrant moon was rising, but for the moment

-everything outside the radius of the street lamps was

-hidden in a black pall. The outline of the house was just

-discernible against the sky, though Cheyne could not from

-here make out the details of its construction. But, standing

-out sharply against its black background, was one brightly

-illuminated rectangle—a window on the first floor.</p>

-

-<p>The window was open at the top, and the light colored

-blind was pulled down, though even from where he stood

-Cheyne could see that it did not entirely reach the bottom

-of the opening. Even as he watched a shadow appeared on

-the blind. It was a man’s head and shoulders and it

-remained steady for a moment, then moved slowly out of

-sight.</p>

-

-<p>Stealthily Cheyne edged his way forward. The back

-premises of Laurel Lodge were separated from the lane by

-a gate, and this Cheyne opened silently, passing within.

-Gradually he worked his way round a tiny greenhouse and

-between a few flower beds until he reached the wall of

-the house. There he listened intently, but no sound came

-from above.</p>

-

-<p>“If only I could get up to the window,” he thought,

-“I could see in under the blind.”</p>

-

-<p>But there was no roof or tree upon which he might

-have climbed, and he stood motionless, undecided what

-to do next.</p>

-

-<p>Suddenly an idea occurred to him, and full once more

-of eager excitement, he carefully retraced his steps until he

-reached the lane. It ran on between rough wire palings,

-past the two vacant lots and behind the adjoining

-half-finished house. Cheyne followed it until he reached the

-half-completed building, and then entering, he began to

-search for a short ladder.</p>

-

-<p>Every moment the light of the rising moon was increasing,

-and after stumbling about and making noises which

-sent him into a cold sweat of apprehension, he succeeded,

-partly by sight and partly by feeling, in finding what he

-wanted. Then with great care he lifted it into the lane

-and bore it back to Laurel Lodge.</p>

-

-<p>With infinite pains he carried it through the gate, round

-the greenhouse, and past the flower beds to the house. Then

-fixing the bottom on the grass plot which surrounded the

-building, he lowered it gently against the wall at the side

-of the window.</p>

-

-<p>A moment later he reached the slot of clear glass showing

-beneath the blind and peered into the room. There he

-saw a sight so unexpected that in spite of his precarious

-position a cry of surprise all but escaped him.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch06">

-

-<h2>Chapter VI. <br> The House in Hopefield Avenue</h2>

-

-<p>The room was of medium size and plainly though

-comfortably furnished as a man’s study or smoking room. In

-one corner was a small roll-top desk, in another a table

-bearing books and papers and a tantalus. Two large

-leather-covered armchairs stood one at each side of the

-grate, in which burned a cheerful fire. In the corner

-opposite the window was a press or cupboard built into the

-wall, and in front of this all furniture had been cleared

-away, leaving a wide unoccupied space on the floor. Beside

-the wall near this space was a large camera, already set

-up, and on a table beside it lay a flashlight apparatus

-and two dark slides, apparently of full plate size.</p>

-

-<p>In the room were four persons, and it was the identity

-of the last of these that had so amazed Cheyne. Standing

-beside the camera were Price and Lewisham, while no less

-a personage than Mr. Hubert Parkes of Edgecombe

-Hotel notoriety stood looking on with his back to the fire.

-But it was not on these that Cheyne’s eyes were glued.

-Reclining in one of the armchairs with her feet on the

-fender was Susan, the house and parlormaid at Warren

-Lodge!</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne gasped. Here was the explanation of one

-mystery at all events. He saw now where the gang’s knowledge

-of himself and his surroundings had been obtained. He

-remembered that he had discussed his visit to Plymouth

-during dinner, a day or two before the event. Susan had

-been waiting at table, and Susan had been the channel

-through which the information had been passed on. And

-the burglary! He could see Susan’s hand in this also. In

-all probability she had taken full advantage of her

-opportunities to make a thorough search of the house for Price’s

-letter, and it was doubtless only when it became necessary

-to deal with the safe that her friends had been called in.

-Probably also she had been waiting for them, and had

-admitted them and shown them over the house before

-submitting to be tied up as a blind to mislead the detectives

-who would presumably be called in. Cheyne suspected also

-that Price’s visit was timed at a propitious moment, when

-he himself was available and with a free afternoon to be

-filled up. No doubt Susan’s part in the affair had been

-vital to its success.</p>

-

-<p>But her participation also showed the extraordinary

-importance which the conspirators attached to the letter.

-Susan’s makeup for the part she was to play, the forging

-of her references, her installation in the Cheyne household

-and her undertaking nearly two months of domestic

-service in order to gain the document, showed a tenacity of

-purpose which could only have been evoked to attain

-some urgent end. Evidently the gang believed that Price’s

-claim on the barony was good, and evidently the others

-intended to share the spoils.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne watched breathlessly what was going on in the

-room, and to his delight he presently found that through

-the open upper sash he could also hear a good deal of

-what was said.</p>

-

-<p>The camera had been set up to face the cupboard, and

-Cheyne now saw that a document of some kind was

-fastened with drawing pins to its door. Price put his head

-under the cloth and moved the camera back and forwards,

-evidently focusing it on the document. Lewisham lifted

-and examined the flashlight apparatus, then stood

-waiting. Parkes stooped and said something in a low tone to

-Susan, at which she laughed sarcastically.</p>

-

-<p>“Do you think two will be enough or should we take

-four?” said Price when he had arranged the camera to his

-satisfaction.</p>

-

-<p>“Two, I should say,” Parkes answered. “Even if we lost

-the tracing, two negatives should be an ample record.”</p>

-

-<p>“I should take four,” Lewisham declared. “After all

-we’ve done what is the extra trouble of developing a

-couple of negatives? One or two might be failures.”</p>

-

-<p>“Sime is right,” Price decided. “I shall take four.”</p>

-

-<p>Sime? Cheyne thought perplexedly that the man who

-had run the motor on the <i>Enid</i> had been introduced to

-him as Lewisham. Sime, was it? Then it occurred to him

-that probably each one of the four had met him under an

-assumed name, and he listened even more intently in the

-hope of finding this out.</p>

-

-<p>“I wonder if that ass Cheyne put the cops on to us,”

-went on Sime to the company generally. “James talked to

-him like a father and he seemed to swallow it all down as

-sweet as milk. Lordy! But you should have heard old

-James spouting. He rattled off his patter like a good ’un.

-Fresh absurdities each time and all that. Didn’t you,

-James?”</p>

-

-<p>“He didn’t give much trouble,” Price replied. “I

-shouldn’t have believed anyone would have given in as

-soft as he did. I pitched him a yarn about yours truly being

-heir to the barony of Hull that wouldn’t have deceived an

-oyster, and he sucked it in like a sponge. But it wasn’t that

-that worked. It was keeping him without water that did

-the trick. When I offered him another day to think it over

-he collapsed like a pricked bubble.”</p>

-

-<p>“So would you if you had been in his shoes,” Susan

-declared. “I’d like to see you standing out for anything

-against your own comfort.”</p>

-

-<p>“You wouldn’t have seen me get into his shoes,” Price

-retorted, fitting a dark slide into the camera. “Now, Sime,

-if you’re ready.”</p>

-

-<p>Price pressed the bulb uncovering the lens and at the

-same time Sime burned a length of magnesium wire

-before the document on the door, while Cheyne writhed

-with impotent rage at the discovery that he had been

-duped in still another particular.</p>

-

-<p>“We’ve done uncommonly well,” Parkes remarked when

-the photograph had been taken, “but we’re not by any

-means out of the wood yet. In fact, the real work is only

-beginning. We don’t even yet know the size of the

-problem we’re up against. We’ve got to find that out and then

-we’ve got to make a plan and put it through, and all the

-time we’ve got to lie low in case that infernal ass has

-reported us to the police.”</p>

-

-<p>“We’ve got to get these photographs taken and then

-we’ve got to get our supper,” retorted Price. “For goodness

-sake let’s have one thing at a time, Blessington. If you’d

-lend a hand instead of standing there preaching, it would

-be more to the point.”</p>

-

-<p>Here was another alias. Parkes’s real name was

-Blessington. Cheyne was beginning to wonder what Price and

-Susan were really called, when the next remark satisfied

-his curiosity.</p>

-

-<p>Parkes—or Blessington—took Price’s remark easily.</p>

-

-<p>“Now that’s where you make the mistake, Mr. James

-Dangle,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Miss Dangle

-and I do the real work in this joint: don’t we, Miss

-Dangle? We supply the brains, you and Sime only rise to

-the muscles. Eh, Miss Dangle?”</p>

-

-<p>But Miss Dangle was not in a mood for pleasantries.</p>

-

-<p>“We shall want all the brains that you can supply and

-more,” she answered irritably, and then turning lazily to

-the others demanded if they weren’t ever going to be done

-messing with the darned camera.</p>

-

-<p>At last Cheyne thought he had got the four fixed in his

-mind. The man on the rug—the man who had drugged

-him in the Plymouth hotel—was Blessington. The man

-who had introduced himself as Lamson and afterwards

-said his name was Price bore neither of these appellations:

-his name was Dangle. Susan was “Miss Dangle” and

-almost certainly sister to James. Lewisham, the motorman

-of the <i>Enid</i>, was Sime.</p>

-

-<p>Dangle, Sime, and Blessington! Why, there was

-something sinister in the very names, and as Cheyne peeped

-guardedly in beneath the blind, he felt there was

-something even more sinister in their owners. Dangle, with his

-hard-bitten features and without his veneer of polish,

-looked a crafty scoundrel. There was a nasty gleam in his

-foxy eyes. He looked a man who would sell his best friend

-for a shilling. Perhaps Cheyne’s imagination had by this

-time run away with him, but Sime now struck him as a

-murderous-looking ruffian, and Blessington’s smug

-features seemed but to cloak an evil and cruel nature. He was

-smiling, but there was nothing mirthful about his smile.

-Rather was it the expression that a wolf might be

-supposed to wear when he sees a sheep helpless before his

-attack. Cheyne did not know if Susan was dangerous, but

-he had always suspected she could be vindictive and

-bad-tempered. A nice crew, he thought, and he shivered in

-spite of himself as he pictured his fate were some accident

-to lead to his discovery.</p>

-

-<p>And what inventive genius they had shown! They had

-now told him three yarns, all convincing, well-thought-out

-statements, and all entirely false. There was first of all

-Blessington’s dissertation of his, Cheyne’s, literary efforts,

-told to get him off his guard so that a drug might be

-administered to him and his pockets be searched. Then

-there was the account of the position indicator for ships,

-detailed and plausible, a bait to lure him voluntarily

-aboard the <i>Enid</i>. Lastly there was the story of the Hull

-succession, including the interesting episode of the

-attempted rescue of the uncle St. John Price, undoubtedly

-related with the object of reducing Cheyne’s scruples in

-handing over the letter. These people were certainly past

-masters in the art of decorative lying, and once again he

-marveled at the trouble which had been taken in making

-each story watertight so as to assure its success. It was for

-no small reward that this had been done.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was getting stiff with cold on the ladder.

-Though keenly interested in what he saw, he wished his

-enemies would make some move so that he might advance

-or, if necessary, retreat. But they appeared in no special

-hurry, proceeding with the photographs in the most

-careful and deliberate way.</p>

-

-<p>A desultory conversation was kept up, only part of

-which he heard, but nothing further was said which threw

-any light on the identity of the conspirators or on the

-objects for which they were assembled. The work with the

-camera progressed, however, and presently three

-photographs had been taken.</p>

-

-<p>“Once more,” he heard Dangle remark, and having

-pulled out the shutter, the whilom skipper of the <i>Enid</i>

-pressed the bulb and another photograph was taken.</p>

-

-<p>“That’s four altogether,” Dangle went on in satisfied

-tones. “I guess we’re well provided for against accidents.

-What about that bit of supper, old lady?”</p>

-

-<p>“Aren’t we waiting for you?” Susan demanded as she

-slowly pulled herself up out of the chair. “Gosh!” she went

-on, lazily stretching herself and yawning, “but it’s good to

-be done with Devonshire! I was fed up, I can tell you!

-Susan this and Susan that! ‘Susan, we’ll have tea now,’

-‘Susan, you might bring a tray and take up the mistress’s

-breakfast,’ ‘Susan, you might light the fire in the study;

-Mr. Cheyne wants to work.’ Yah! I guess I’ve about done

-my share.”</p>

-

-<p>The men exchanged glances, but only Dangle spoke.</p>

-

-<p>“I guess you have, old girl,” he conceded. “But finish

-out this job and you’ll live like a lady for the rest of your

-life.”</p>

-

-<p>“It’ll be a poor look out for you if I don’t,” she grumbled,

-and Sime having opened the door, she passed out, followed

-by the others. Cheyne, watching breathlessly, saw a light

-spring up in a ground floor window, fortunately not below

-him, but at the far end of the house.</p>

-

-<p>His heart beat quickly. Was it possible that his great

-chance had come already and that the gang had delivered

-themselves into his hands? A little coolness, a little

-daring, a little nerve, and he believed he could carry off a <i>coup</i>

-that would entirely reverse the situation. The document

-on the wall must surely be that which these criminals had

-stolen from him. Could he not regain it while they were

-downstairs at their supper? He decided with fierce delight

-that he would try. It was an adventure after his own

-heart.</p>

-

-<p>Carefully he grasped the lower sash and pressed gently

-upwards. To his delight it moved. With infinite care he

-pushed it higher and higher until at last he was able to

-work his way into the room. Evidently he had not been

-heard, as the muffled sounds of conversation continued to

-rise unbrokenly from the supper room. He tiptoed lightly

-across the room and gazed in surprise at the document

-fixed to the wall.</p>

-

-<p>It was certainly not the copy of a birth or marriage

-certificate nor anything connected with a claim to a

-barony! It was a sheet of tracing linen some fifteen inches

-high by twelve wide, covered with little circles spaced

-irregularly and without any apparent plan, like the keys

-of a typewriter gone mad. Some of these circles contained

-numbers and others letters, also arranged without

-apparent plan. The only thing he could read about the whole

-document was a phrase, written in a circle from the

-center like the figures on a clock dial: “England expects

-every man to do his duty.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne stared in amazement, but soon realizing that

-his time might be short, he silently removed the drawing

-pins, folded the tracing and thrust it into his pocket. Then

-turning to the camera, he withdrew the dark slide, opened

-first one and then the other of its shutters, closed them

-again and replaced it in the camera. A few seconds

-sufficed to open and close the shutters of the other slide

-lying on the table. With a hurried glance round to make

-sure that no other paper was lying about which might also

-have formed part of the contents of Price’s envelope, he

-tiptoed back to the window and prepared to make his

-escape.</p>

-

-<p>But as he laid his hand on the blind he was halted by a

-sound from below. Someone had opened what was

-evidently the back door of the house and had stepped out on

-the ground below the window. Then Sime’s voice came,

-grumbling and muffled: “Where the blazes do you keep

-the darned stuff? How can I find it in the dark?” There

-was a moment’s pause, then in a changed voice a sudden

-sharp call of “Here, James! Look here quickly! What’s

-this?”</p>

-

-<p>He had seen the ladder! Cheyne realized that his retreat

-was cut off!</p>

-

-<p>A sudden tumult arose downstairs. Hasty feet ran

-towards the garden and voices spoke low and hurriedly

-beneath the window. Cheyne saw that his only hope lay in

-instant action. He silently hurried across the room, tore the

-door open and ran to the head of the stairs. His hope was

-that he might slip down and out of the door while the

-others were still at the back of the house.</p>

-

-<p>But he was just too late. As he reached the stairs he

-heard steps approaching the hall below. His retreat was

-cut off in this direction also.</p>

-

-<p>There remained only one thing to do and he did it

-almost without thought. Opening the next door to that of

-the sitting room, he stepped noiselessly inside, closing the

-door save for a narrow chink through which he could hear

-and see what was happening.</p>

-

-<p>Two of the men had raced up to the sitting room, and

-peeping out, Cheyne saw that they were Blessington and

-Sime. In a moment they were out again and running

-down, shouting: “It’s gone, James! The tracing’s gone!”

-Sounds indicative of surprise and consternation arose

-from below, but Cheyne could no longer hear the words.

-Then through the window, which also looked out over the

-garden, he heard Dangle’s voice: “Keep guard of the

-house, Susan and Blessington. Come with me, Sime,” and

-the sound of two pairs of feet rushing away towards the

-lane.</p>

-

-<p>Instinctively Cheyne realized that his chance had come.

-It was now or never. If he could not escape while two of

-the conspirators were away, he would have no chance

-when all four were present.</p>

-

-<p>He came out of his hiding-place and peeped through

-the well down into the hall. The electric light had been

-turned on and the hall was brilliantly illuminated. In it

-stood Blessington, glancing alternately up the stairs and

-out through a door to the back. In his hand he held an

-automatic pistol, and from the look of fury and

-desperation on his face Cheyne had no doubt that he would not

-hesitate to use it if he saw him.</p>

-

-<p>“They must have only just gone!” Blessington cried

-through the door with a lurid oath, and Susan’s voice

-answered with another equally vivid string of blasphemy.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne stood tense, scarcely daring to breathe and on

-the <i>qui vive</i> to take advantage of any chance that might

-offer. But Blessington wasn’t going to give chances. He

-stood there with his pistol raised, and unarmed as Cheyne

-was, he recognized the hopelessness of trying to rush him.</p>

-

-<p>He thought there might be a chance of escape from

-some of the other rooms, and silently crept about in the

-hope of finding a window or skylight from which he might

-perhaps obtain access to a downspout. But so far as he

-could ascertain in the dark there was nothing of the kind,

-and after a few minutes had passed he retraced his steps

-and set himself to watch Blessington.</p>

-

-<p>He wondered whether he could make some noise with

-the ladder which would attract the two watchers to the

-garden and thus enable him to make a bolt for the front

-door, but while he was considering this he heard other

-voices which revealed the fact that Dangle and Sime had

-returned. Then Dangle’s voice sounded in the hall: “’Fraid

-they’ve got away, but we’d better search the house again

-to make sure. You stick at the stairs, Susan, while we do

-the lower rooms.”</p>

-

-<p>Steps sounded below as the men moved from room to

-room. Cheyne’s heart was pounding as it had done on

-different occasions before his ship had gone into action

-during the war, but he was calm and collected and

-determined to take the least chance that offered.</p>

-

-<p>Presently he heard the men joining Susan in the hall.

-Now was the only chance he was likely to get and at all

-costs he must make the most of it. He hurried back to the

-sitting room window, and setting his teeth, lifted the blind

-and silently crawled out.</p>

-

-<p>So far he had not been seen, and as rapidly as he dared

-he climbed down the ladder. Another five seconds and he

-would have got clear away, but at that moment the alarm

-was given. One of the men, looking out of a window, saw

-him in the now fairly clear light of the moon. Hurried

-steps sounded and Blessington appeared at the open door.</p>

-

-<p>Fearful of his pistol, Cheyne leaped for his life. He

-landed on his feet, staggered, recovered himself and darted

-like a hare across the flower beds. With any ordinary luck

-he should have got clear away, but Blessington had picked

-up a broom as he ran, and this he threw with fatal aim. It

-caught Cheyne between the legs and he fell headlong.

-Other steps came hurrying up. By the light streaming from

-the back door he saw an arm raised. It fell and something

-crashed with a sickening thud on his head.</p>

-

-<p>He saw a vivid shower of sparks, there was a roaring

-in his ears, great dark waves seemed to rise up and

-encompass him, and he remembered no more.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch07">

-

-<h2>Chapter VII. <br> Miss Joan Merrill</h2>

-

-<p>After what seemed ages of forgetfulness a confused sense

-of pain began to make itself felt in Maxwell Cheyne’s

-being, growing in force and definition as he gradually

-struggled back to consciousness. At first his whole body

-ached sickeningly, but as time passed the major suffering

-concentrated itself in his head. It throbbed as if it would

-burst, and he felt a terrible oppression, as if the weight of

-the universe rested upon it. So on the border line of

-consciousness he hovered for still further ages of time.</p>

-

-<p>Presently by gradual stages the memory of his recent

-adventure returned to him, and he began vaguely to

-realize that the murderous attempt which had been made

-on him had failed and that he still lived.</p>

-

-<p>Encouraged by this reassuring thought, he hesitatingly

-essayed the feat of opening his eyes. For a time he gazed,

-confused by the dim shapes about him, but at last he came

-more fully to himself and was able to register what he

-saw.</p>

-

-<p>It was almost dark, indeed most of the arc over which

-his eyes could travel was perfectly so. But here and there

-he noticed parallelograms of a less inky blackness, and

-after some time the significance of these penetrated his

-brain and he knew where he was.</p>

-

-<p>He was lying on his back on the ground in the half-built

-house from which he had taken the ladder, and the

-parallelograms were the openings in the walls into which

-doors and windows would afterwards be fitted. Against

-the faint light without, which he took to be that of the

-moonlit sky, he could see dimly the open joists of the floor

-above him, a piece of the herringbone strutting of which

-cut across the space for one of the upstairs windows.</p>

-

-<p>Feeling slightly better he tried his pocket, to find, as he

-expected, that the tracing was gone. Presently he attempted

-some more extensive movement. But at once an intolerable

-pang shot through him, and, sick and faint, he lay still.

-With a dawning horror he wondered whether his back

-might not be broken, or whether the blow on his head

-might not have produced paralysis. He groaned aloud and

-sank back once more into unconsciousness.</p>

-

-<p>After a time he became sentient again, sick and giddy,

-but more fully conscious. While he could not think

-collectedly, the idea became gradually fixed in his mind that

-he must somehow get away from his present position,

-partly lest his enemies might return to complete their work,

-and partly lest, if he stayed, he might die before the

-workmen came in the morning. Therefore, setting his teeth, he

-made a supreme effort and, in spite of the terrible pain in

-his head, succeeded in turning over on to his hands and

-knees.</p>

-

-<p>In this new position he remained motionless for some

-time, but presently he began to crawl slowly and painfully

-out towards the road. At intervals he had to stop to

-recover himself, but at length after superhuman efforts he

-succeeded in reaching the paling separating the lot from

-Hopefield Avenue. There he sank down exhausted and for

-some time lay motionless in a state of coma.</p>

-

-<p>Suddenly he became conscious of the sound of light but

-rapid footsteps approaching on the footpath at the other

-side of the paling, and once more summoning all his

-resolution he nerved himself to listen. The steps drew

-nearer until he judged their owner was just passing and

-then he cried as loudly as he could: “Help!”</p>

-

-<p>The footsteps stopped and Cheyne gasped out: “Help!

-I’ve hurt my head: an accident.”</p>

-

-<p>There was a moment’s silence and then a girl’s voice

-sounded.</p>

-

-<p>“Where are you?”</p>

-

-<p>“Here,” Cheyne answered, “at the back of the fence.”

-He felt dimly that he ought to give some explanation of his

-predicament, and went on in weak tones: “I was looking

-through the house and fell. Can you help me?”</p>

-

-<p>“Of course,” the girl answered. “I’ll go to the police

-station in Cleeve Road—it’s only five minutes—and they

-will look after you in no time.”</p>

-

-<p>This was not what Cheyne wanted. He had not yet

-decided whether he would call in the police and he was

-too much upset at the moment to consider the point. In

-the meantime, therefore, it would be better if nothing was

-said.</p>

-

-<p>“Please not,” he begged. “Just send a taxi to take me to

-a hospital.”</p>

-

-<p>The girl hesitated, then replied: “All right. Let me see

-first if I can make you a bit more comfortable.”</p>

-

-<p>The effort of speaking and thinking had so overcome

-Cheyne that he sank back once more into a state of coma,

-and it was only half consciously that he felt his head being

-lifted and some soft thing like a folded coat being placed

-beneath. Then the girl’s pleasant voice said: “Now just

-stay quiet and I shall have a taxi here in a moment.” A

-further period of waiting ensued and he felt himself being

-lifted and carried a few steps. A jolting then began which

-so hurt his head that he fainted again, and for still further

-interminable ages he remembered no more.</p>

-

-<p>When he finally regained his faculties he found himself

-in bed, physically more comfortable than he could have

-believed possible, but utterly exhausted. He was content

-to lie motionless, not troubling as to where he was or how

-he came there. Presently he fell asleep and when he woke

-he plucked up energy enough to open his eyes.</p>

-

-<p>It was light and he saw that he was in hospital. Several

-other beds were in the ward and a nurse was doing

-something at the end of the room. Presently she came over,

-saw that he was awake, and smiled at him.</p>

-

-<p>“Better?” she said cheerily.</p>

-

-<p>“I think so,” he answered weakly. “Where am I,

-nurse?”</p>

-

-<p>“In the Albert Edward Hospital. You’ve had a nasty

-knock on your head, but you’re going to be all right. Now

-you’re to keep quiet and not talk.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne didn’t want to talk and he lay motionless,

-luxuriating in the complete cessation of effort. After a

-time a doctor came and looked at him, but it was too much

-trouble to be interested about the doctor, and in any case

-he soon disappeared. Sometimes when he opened his eyes

-the nurse was there and sometimes she wasn’t, and other

-people seemed to drift about for no very special reason.

-Then it was dark in the ward, evidently night again. The

-next day the same thing happened, and so for many days.</p>

-

-<p>He had been troubled with the vague thoughts of his

-mother and sister, and on one occasion when he was

-feeling a little less tired than usual he had called the nurse

-and asked her to write to his sister, saying that he had met

-with a slight accident and was staying on in town for a

-few days. Miss Cheyne telegraphed to know if she could

-help, but the nurse, without troubling her patient, had

-replied: “Not at present.”</p>

-

-<p>At last there came a time when Cheyne began to feel

-more his own man and able, without bringing on an

-intolerable headache, to think collectedly about his

-situation. And at once two points arose in his mind upon which

-he felt an immediate decision must be made.</p>

-

-<p>The first was: What answer should he return to the

-inevitable questions he would be asked as to how he met

-with his injury? Should he lodge an information against

-Messrs. Dangle, Sime and Co., accuse them of attempted

-murder and put the machinery of the law in motion

-against them? Or should he stick to his tale that an

-accident had happened, and keep the affair of Hopefield

-Avenue to himself?</p>

-

-<p>After anxious consideration he decided on the latter

-alternative. If he were to tell the police now he would

-find it hard to explain why he had not done so earlier.

-Moreover, with returning strength came back the desire

-which he had previously experienced, to meet these men

-on their own ground and himself defeat them. He

-remembered how exceedingly nearly he had done so on this

-occasion. Had it not been for the accident of something

-being required from the garden or outhouse he would have

-got clear away, and he hoped for better luck next time.</p>

-

-<p>A third consideration also weighed with him. He was

-not sure how far he himself had broken the law. Housebreaking

-and burglary were serious crimes, and he had an

-uncomfortable feeling that others might not consider his

-excuse for these actions as valid as he did himself. In fact

-he was not sure how he stood legally. Under the

-circumstances would his proper course not have been to lodge an

-information against Dangle and Sime immediately on

-getting ashore from the <i>Enid</i>, and let the police with a

-search warrant recover Price’s letter? But he saw at once

-that that would have been useless. The men would have

-denied the theft, and he could not have proved it. His

-letter to his bank manager would have been evidence that

-he had handed it over to them of his own free will. No, to

-go to the police would not have got him anywhere. In his

-own eyes he had been right to act as he had, and his only

-course now was to pursue the same policy and keep the

-police out of it.</p>

-

-<p>When, therefore, a couple of days later the doctor, who

-had been puzzled by the affair, questioned him on it, he

-made up a tale. He replied that he had for some time been

-looking for a house in the suburbs, that the outline of that

-in question had appealed to him, and that he had climbed

-in to see the internal accommodation. In the semidarkness

-he had fallen, striking his head on a heap of bricks. He

-had been unconscious for some time, but had then been

-able to crawl to the street, where the lady had been kind

-enough to have him taken to the hospital.</p>

-

-<p>This brought him back to the second point which had

-been occupying his mind since he had regained the power

-of consecutive thought: the lady. What exactly had she

-done for him? How had she got him to the hospital and

-secured his admission? Had she taken a taxi, and if so, had

-she herself paid for it? Cheyne felt that he must see her to

-learn these particulars and to thank her for her kindness

-and help.</p>

-

-<p>He broached the subject to the nurse, who laughed and

-said she had been expecting the question. Miss Merrill

-had brought him herself to the hospital and had since

-called up a couple of times to inquire for him. The nurse

-presumed the young lady had herself paid for the taxi, as

-no question about the matter had been raised.</p>

-

-<p>This information seemed to Cheyne to involve

-communication with Miss Merrill at the earliest possible

-moment. The nurse would not let him write himself, but

-at his dictation she sent a line expressing his gratitude for

-the lady’s action and begging leave to call on his leaving

-the hospital.</p>

-

-<p>In answer to this there was a short note signed “Joan

-Merrill,” which stated that the writer was pleased to hear

-that Mr. Cheyne was recovering and that she would see

-him if he called. The note was headed 17 Horne Terrace,

-Burton Street, Chelsea. Cheyne admired the hand and

-passed a good deal of his superabundant time speculating

-as to the personality of the writer and wondering what a

-Chelsea lady could have been doing in the Hendon

-suburbs after midnight on the date of his adventure.

-When, therefore, a few days later he was discharged from

-the hospital, he betook himself to Chelsea with more than

-a little eagerness.</p>

-

-<p>Horne Terrace proved to be a block of workers’ flats,

-and inquiries at No. 17 produced the information that

-Miss Merrill occupied Flat No. 12—the top floor on the

-left-hand side. Speculating still further as to the

-personality of a lady who would choose such a dwelling, Cheyne

-essayed researches into the upper regions. A climb which

-left him weak and panting after his sojourn in bed

-brought him to the tenth floor, on which one of the doors

-bore the number he sought. To recover himself before

-knocking he felt constrained to sit down for a few

-moments on the stairs, and as he was thus resting the door

-of No. 12 opened and a girl came out.</p>

-

-<p>She was of middle height, slender and willowy, though

-the lines of her figure were somewhat concealed by the

-painter’s blue overall which she wore. She was not

-beautiful in the classic sense, yet but few would have failed to

-find pleasure in the sight of her pretty, pleasant, kindly

-face, with its straightforward expression, and the direct

-gaze of her hazel eyes. Her face was rather thin and her

-chin rather sharp for perfect symmetry, but her nose tilted

-adorably and the arch of her eyebrows was delicacy itself.

-Her complexion was pale, but with the pallor of perfect

-health. But her great glory was her hair. It covered her

-head with a crown of burnished gold, and though in

-Cheyne’s opinion it lost much of its beauty from being

-shingled, it gave her an aureole like that of a medieval

-saint in a stained glass window. Like a saint, indeed, she

-seemed to Cheyne; a very human and approachable saint,

-it is true, but a saint for all that. Seated on the top step of

-the stairs he was transfixed by the unexpected vision, and

-remained staring over his shoulder at her while he

-endeavored to collect his scattered wits.</p>

-

-<p>The sight of a strange young man seated on the steps

-outside her door seemed equally astonishing to the vision,

-and she promptly stopped and stood staring at Cheyne.

-So they remained for an appreciable time, until Cheyne,

-flushed and abashed, stumbled to his feet and plunged into

-apologies.</p>

-

-<p>As a result of his somewhat incoherent explanation a

-light dawned on her face and she smiled.</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, you’re Mr. Cheyne,” she exclaimed. She looked at

-him very searchingly, then invited: “But of course! Won’t

-you come in?”</p>

-

-<p>He followed her into No. 12. It proved to be a fair-sized

-room fitted up partly as a sitting room and partly as a

-studio. A dormer window close to the fireplace gave on an

-expanse of roofs and chimneys with, in a gap between two

-houses, a glimpse of the lead-colored waters of the river.

-In the partially covered ceiling was a large skylight which

-lit up a model’s throne, and an easel bearing a

-half-finished study of a woman’s head. Other canvases, mostly

-figures in various stages of completion, were ranged

-round the walls, and the usual artist’s paraphernalia of

-brushes and palettes and color tubes lay about. Drawn up

-to the fire were a couple of easy-chairs, books and

-ashtrays lay on an occasional table, while on another table

-was a tea equipage. A door beside the fireplace led to what

-was presumably the lady’s bedroom.</p>

-

-<p>“Can you find a seat?” she went on, indicating the

-larger of the two armchairs. “You have come at a

-propitious moment. I was just about to make tea.”</p>

-

-<p>“That sounds delightful,” Cheyne declared. “I came at

-the first moment that I thought I decently could. I was

-discharged from the hospital this morning and I thought I

-couldn’t let a day pass without coming to try at least to

-express my thanks for what you did for me.”</p>

-

-<p>Miss Merrill had filled an aluminum kettle from a tap

-at a small sink and now placed it on a gas stove.</p>

-

-<p>“We’ll suppose the thanks expressed, all due and right

-and proper,” she answered. “But I’ll tell you what you can

-do. Light the stove! It makes such a plop I hate to go near

-it.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne, having duly produced the expected plop,

-returned to his armchair and took up again the burden of

-his tale.</p>

-

-<p>“But that’s all very well, Miss Merrill; awfully good of

-you and all that,” he protested, “but it doesn’t really meet

-the case at all. If you hadn’t come along and played the

-good Samaritan I should have died. I was—”</p>

-

-<p>“If you don’t stop talking about it I shall begin to wish

-you had,” she smiled. “How did the accident happen? I

-should be interested to hear that, because I’ve thought

-about it and haven’t been able to imagine any way it

-could have come about.”</p>

-

-<p>“I want to tell you.” Cheyne looked into her clear eyes

-and suddenly said more than he had intended. “In fact, I

-should like to tell you the whole thing from the beginning.

-It’s rather a queer tale. You mayn’t believe it, but I think

-it would interest you. But first—please don’t be angry, but

-you must let me ask the question—did you pay for the taxi

-or whatever means you took to get me to the hospital?”</p>

-

-<p>She laughed.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, you are persistent. However, I suppose I may

-allow you to pay for that. It was five and six, if you must

-know, and a shilling to the man because he helped to

-carry you and took no end of trouble.” She blushed

-slightly as if recognizing the unconscious admission. “A

-whole six and six you owe me.”</p>

-

-<p>“Is that all, Miss Merrill? Do tell me if there was

-anything else.”</p>

-

-<p>“There was nothing else, Mr. Cheyne. That squares

-everything between us.”</p>

-

-<p>“By Jove! That’s the last thing it does! But if I mustn’t

-speak of that, I mustn’t. But please tell me this also. I

-understood from the nurse that you came with me to

-hospital. I am horrified every time I think of your having so

-much trouble, and I should like to understand how it all

-happened.”</p>

-

-<p>“There’s not much to tell,” Miss Merrill answered. “It

-was all very simple and straightforward. There happened

-to be a garage in the main street, quite close, and I went

-there and got a taxi. It was very dark, and when the

-driver and I looked over the fence we could not see you,

-but the driver fortunately had a flash lamp for examining

-his engine, and with its help we saw that you had fainted.

-We found you very awkward to get out.” She smiled and

-her face lighted up charmingly. “We had to drag you

-round to the side of the building where there was a wire

-paling instead of the close sheeted fence in front. I held up

-the wires and the cabby dragged you through. Then when

-we got you into the cab I had to go along too, because the

-cabby said he wouldn’t take what might easily be a dead

-body—a corp, he called it—without someone to account

-for its presence. He talked of you as if you were a sack of

-coal.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was really upset by the recital.</p>

-

-<p>“Good Lord!” he cried. “I can’t say how distressed I am

-to know what I let you in for. I can’t ever forget it. All

-right, I won’t,” he added as she held up her hand. “Go on,

-please. I want to hear it all.”</p>

-

-<p>Miss Merrill’s hazel eyes twinkled as she continued:</p>

-

-<p>“By the time we got to the hospital I was sure that

-nothing would save me from being hanged for murder. But

-there was no trouble. I simply told my story, left my name

-and address, and that was all. Now tell me what really

-happened to you; or rather wait until we’ve had tea.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne sat back in his chair admiring the easy grace

-with which she moved about as she prepared the meal. She

-was really an awfully nice looking girl, he thought; not

-perhaps exactly pretty, but jolly looking, the kind of girl

-it is a pleasure just to sit down and watch. And as they

-chatted over tea he discovered that she had a mind of her

-own. Indeed, she showed a nimble wit and a shrewd if

-rather quaint outlook on men and things.</p>

-

-<p>“You mentioned Dartmouth just now,” she remarked

-presently. “Do you know it well?”</p>

-

-<p>“Why, I live there.”</p>

-

-<p>“Do you really? Do you know people there called

-Beresford?”</p>

-

-<p>“Archie and Flo? Rather. They live on our road, but

-about half a mile nearer the town. Do you know them?”</p>

-

-<p>“Flo only. I’ve been going to stay with them two or

-three times, though for one reason or another it has

-always fallen through. I was at school with Flo—Flo

-Salter, she was then.”</p>

-

-<p>“By Jove! Archie is rather a pal of mine. Comes out

-yachting sometimes. A good sort.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve never met him, but I used to chum with Flo.

-Congratulations, Mr. Cheyne.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne stared at her and she smiled gaily across.</p>

-

-<p>“You haven’t said that the world is very small after all,”

-she explained.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne laughed.</p>

-

-<p>“I didn’t think of it or I should,” he admitted. “But I

-hope you will come down to the Beresfords. I’d love to

-take you out in my yacht—that is, if you like yachting.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s a promise,” the girl declared. “If I come I shall

-hold you to it.”</p>

-

-<p>When tea was removed and cigarettes were alight she

-returned to the subject of his adventure.</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” Cheyne answered, “I should like to tell you the

-whole story if it really wouldn’t bore you. But,” he

-hesitated for a second, “you won’t mind my saying that it is

-simply desperately private. No hint of it must get out.”</p>

-

-<p>Her face clouded.</p>

-

-<p>“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I don’t want to hear it if it’s a

-secret. It doesn’t concern me anyway.”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, but it does—now,” Cheyne protested. “If I don’t

-tell you now you will think that I am a criminal with

-something to hide, and I think I couldn’t bear that.”</p>

-

-<p>“No,” she contradicted, “you think that you are in my

-debt and bound to tell me.”</p>

-

-<p>He laughed.</p>

-

-<p>“Not at all,” he retorted, “since contradiction is the

-order of the day. If that was it I could easily have put you

-off with the yarn I told the doctor. I want to tell you

-because I think you’d be interested, and because it really

-would be such a relief to discuss the thing with some

-rational being.”</p>

-

-<p>She looked at him keenly as she demanded: “Honor

-bright?”</p>

-

-<p>“Honor bright,” he repeated, meeting her eyes.</p>

-

-<p>“Then you may,” she decided. “You may also smoke a

-pipe if you like.”</p>

-

-<p>“The story opens about six weeks ago with a visit to

-Plymouth,” he began, and he told her of his adventure in

-the Edgecombe Hotel, of the message about the burglary,

-of his ride home and what he found there, and of the

-despondent detective and his failure to discover the

-criminals. Then he described what took place on the

-launch <i>Enid</i>, his search of the coast towns and discovery

-of the trail of the men, his following them to London and

-to the Hopefield Avenue house, his adventure therein, the

-blow on his head, his coming to himself to find the tracing

-gone, his crawl to the fence and his relief at the sound of

-her footsteps approaching.</p>

-

-<p>She listened with an ever-increasing eagerness, which

-rose to positive excitement as he reached the climax of

-the story.</p>

-

-<p>“My word!” she cried with shining eyes when he had

-finished. “To think of such things happening here in sober

-old London in the twentieth century! Why, it’s like

-the <i>Arabian Nights</i>! Who would believe such a story if they

-read it in a book? <em>What</em> fun! And you have no idea what

-the tracing was?”</p>

-

-<p>“No more than you have, Miss Merrill.”</p>

-

-<p>“It was a cipher,” she declared breathlessly. “A cipher

-telling where there was buried treasure! Isn’t that all that

-is wanted to make it complete?”</p>

-

-<p>“Now you’re laughing at me,” he complained. “Don’t

-you really believe my story?”</p>

-

-<p>“Believe it?” she retorted. “Of course I believe it. How

-can you suggest such a thing? I think it’s perfectly

-splendid! I can’t say how splendid I think it. It <em>was</em> brave

-of you to go into that house in the way you did. I can’t

-think how you had the nerve. But now what are you going

-to do? What is the next step?”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t know. I’ve thought and thought while I was in

-that blessed hospital and I don’t see the next move. What

-would you advise?”</p>

-

-<p>“I? Oh, Mr. Cheyne, I couldn’t advise you. I’m thrilled

-more than I can say, but I don’t know enough for that.”</p>

-

-<p>“Would you give up and go to the police?”</p>

-

-<p>“Never.” Her eyes flashed. “I’d go on and fight the gang.

-You’ll win yet, Mr. Cheyne. Something tells me.”</p>

-

-<p>A wild idea shot into Cheyne’s mind and he sat for a

-moment motionless. Then swayed by a sudden impulse,

-he turned to the girl and said excitedly:</p>

-

-<p>“Miss Merrill, let’s join forces. You help me.” He

-paused, then went on quickly: “Not in the actual thing,

-I mean, of course. I couldn’t allow you to get mixed up in

-what might turn out to be dangerous. But let me come

-and discuss the thing with you. It would be such a help.”</p>

-

-<p>“No!” she said, her eyes shining. “I’ll join in if you

-like—I’d love it! But only if I share the fun. I’m either in

-altogether or out altogether.”</p>

-

-<p>He stood up and faced her.</p>

-

-<p>“Do you mean it?” he asked seriously.</p>

-

-<p>“Of course I mean it,” she answered as she got up also.</p>

-

-<p>“Then shake hands on it!”</p>

-

-<p>Solemnly they shook hands, and so the firm of Cheyne

-and Merrill came into being.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch08">

-

-<h2>Chapter VIII. <br> A Council of War</h2>

-

-<p>Cheyne returned to his hotel that afternoon in a

-jubilant frame of mind. He had been depressed from his

-illness and his failure at the house in Hopefield Avenue

-and had come to believe he was wasting his time on a

-wild-goose chase. But now all his former enthusiasm had

-returned. Once again he was out to pit his wits against this

-mysterious gang of scoundrels, and he was all eagerness to

-be once more in the thick of the fray.</p>

-

-<p>Miss Merrill had told him something about herself

-before he had left. It appeared that she was the daughter

-of a doctor in Gloucester who had died some years

-previously. Her mother had died while she was a small

-child, and she was now alone in the world save for a sister

-who was married and living in Edinburgh. Her father had

-left her enough to live on fairly comfortably, but by

-cutting down her expenditure on board and lodging to the

-minimum she had been able to find the wherewithal

-necessary to enable her to take up seriously her hobby of

-painting. She was getting on well with that. She had not

-yet sold any pictures, but her art masters and the dealers

-to whom she had shown her work were encouraging. She

-also made a study of architectural details—moldings,

-string courses, capitals, etc.—which, having photographed

-them with her half-plate camera and flashlight apparatus,

-she worked into decorative panels and head and tail

-pieces for magazine illustration and poster work. With

-these also she was having fair success.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was enthused by the idea of this girl starting out

-thus boldly to carve, singlehanded, her career in the

-world, and he spent as much time that evening thinking

-of her pluck and of her chances of success as of the

-mysterious affair in which now they were both engaged.</p>

-

-<p>His first visit next day was to a man called Hake, whom

-he had met during the war and who was now a clerk in

-one of the departments of the Admiralty. From him he

-received definite confirmation that the whole of the Hull

-barony story was a fabrication of James Dangle’s nimble

-brain. No such diplomat as St. John Price had ever

-existed, though it was true that Arnold Price had at the

-time in question been third officer of the <i>Maurania</i>. Hake

-added a further interesting fact, though whether it was

-connected with Cheyne’s affair there was nothing to

-indicate. Price, the real Arnold Price through whom the whole

-mystery had arisen, had recently disappeared. He had left

-his ship at Bombay on a few days’ leave and had not

-returned. At least he had not returned up to the latest

-date of which Hake had heard. Cheyne begged his friend

-to let him know immediately if anything was learned as

-to Price’s fate, which the other promised to do.</p>

-

-<p>In the afternoon Cheyne once more climbed the ten

-flights of stairs in No. 17 Horne Terrace, but this time he

-took the ascent slowly enough to avoid having to sit down

-to recover at the top. Miss Merrill opened to his knock.

-She was painting and a girl sat on the throne, the

-original of the picture he had seen the day before. He was

-told that he might sit down and smoke so long as he kept

-perfectly quiet and did not interrupt, and for half an hour

-he lay in the big armchair watching the face on the canvas

-grow more and more like that of the model. Then a little

-clock struck four silvery chimes, Miss Merrill threw down

-her brushes and palette and said “Time!” and the model

-relaxed her position. Both girls disappeared into the

-bedroom and emerged presently, the model in outdoor garb

-and Miss Merrill without her overall. The model let

-herself out with a “Good-afternoon, Miss Merrill,” while the

-lady of the house took up the aluminum kettle and began

-to fill it.</p>

-

-<p>“Gas stove,” she said tersely.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne produced the expected plop, then stood with

-his back to the fire, watching his hostess’s preparations for

-tea. The removal of the overall had revealed a light green

-knitted jumper of what he believed was artificial silk, with

-a skirt of a darker shade of the same color. A simple dress,

-he thought, but tremendously effective. How splendidly it

-set off the red gold of her hair, and how charmingly it

-revealed the graceful lines of her slender figure! With her

-comely, pleasant face and her clear, direct eyes she looked

-one who would make a good pal.</p>

-

-<p>“Well now, and what’s the program?” she said briskly

-when tea had been disposed of.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne began to fill his pipe.</p>

-

-<p>“I scarcely know,” he said slowly. “I’m afraid I’ve not

-any cut and dried scheme to put up except that I already

-mentioned: to get into that house somehow and have a

-look around.”</p>

-

-<p>She moved nervously.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t like it,” she declared. “There are many

-objections to it.”</p>

-

-<p>“I know there are, but what can you suggest?”</p>

-

-<p>“First of all there’s the actual danger,” she went on,

-continuing her own train of thought and ignoring his

-question. “These people have tried to murder you once

-already, and if they find you in their house again they’ll

-not bungle it a second time.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll take my chance of that.”</p>

-

-<p>“But have you thought that they have an easier way out

-of it than that? All they have to do is to hand you over to

-the nearest policeman on a charge of burglary. You would

-get two or three years or maybe more.”</p>

-

-<p>“They wouldn’t dare. Remember what I could tell

-about them.”</p>

-

-<p>“Who would believe you? They, the picture of injured

-innocence, would deny the whole thing. You would say

-they attempted to murder you. They would ridicule the

-idea. And—there you are.”</p>

-

-<p>“But I could prove it. There was my injured head, and

-you found me at that house.”</p>

-

-<p>“And what did you yourself tell the doctor had

-happened to you? No, you wouldn’t have the ghost of a case.”</p>

-

-<p>“But Susan Dangle was at our house for several weeks.

-She could be identified.”</p>

-

-<p>“How would that help? She would of course admit being

-there, but would deny everything else. And you couldn’t

-prove anything. Why, the gang would point out that it was

-Susan’s presence at your house that had suggested the

-whole story to you.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m not so sure of that,” he declared. “There would be

-a good deal of corroborative evidence on my side. And

-then there was Blessington at the hotel at Plymouth. He

-could be identified by the staff.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s true,” she admitted. “But even that wouldn’t

-help you much. He would deny having drugged you and

-you couldn’t prove he had. No, the more I think of it the

-better their position seems to be.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, then, what’s the alternative?”</p>

-

-<p>She shook her head and for a moment silence reigned.

-Then she went on:</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve been thinking about the gang since you told me

-the story—it’s another point, of course—but it occurs to

-me they must have had a fine old shock on the morning

-after your visit.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne looked up sharply.</p>

-

-<p>“What do you mean?” he asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Why, they must have been worried to death to know

-what had happened to you. Your dead body wasn’t

-found—they’d soon have heard of it if it had been. And no

-information was given to the police about the affair—they’d

-soon have heard of that too. And you haven’t struck

-at them. Probably they’ve made inquiries at Dartmouth

-and found you haven’t gone home. They’ll absolutely be

-scared into fits to know whether you’re alive or dead, or

-what blow may not be being built up against them.

-Though they richly deserve it, I don’t envy them their

-position.”</p>

-

-<p>This was a new idea to Cheyne.</p>

-

-<p>“I hadn’t thought of that,” he returned, then he

-laughed. “Yes, it didn’t work out quite as they wanted, did

-it? But I expect they know all about me. Don’t you think

-that under the circumstances they would have gone round

-making discreet inquiries at the hospitals?”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, that is at least something to be done. First job:

-find out if possible if anyone asked about you at the Albert

-Edward. If that fails, same question elsewhere.”</p>

-

-<p>“Right: that’s an idea. But it is not enough.” Cheyne

-shook his head to give emphasis to his remark. “We must

-do something more. And the only thing I can think of is

-to get into that house again and see what I can find. I’ll

-risk the police.”</p>

-

-<p>Miss Merrill was evidently thrilled, but not converted.</p>

-

-<p>“I shouldn’t be in too great a hurry,” she counseled.

-“How would it do if we went out there first and had a

-look around?”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t see that we should gain much by looking at the

-outside of the house.”</p>

-

-<p>“You never know. Let’s go as soon as it gets dark

-tonight. If we see nothing no harm is done.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was not averse to the idea of an excursion in

-the company of his new friend, and he readily agreed,

-provided Miss Merrill gave her word not to run into any

-danger.</p>

-

-<p>“I think you should put on a hat with a low brim and

-wear something with a high collar,” he suggested. “I’ll do

-the same, and in the dark we’re not likely to be noticed

-even if any of the gang are about.”</p>

-

-<p>Miss Merrill pointed out that as she was unknown to

-the gang, it did not matter if her features were seen, but

-Cheyne was insistent.</p>

-

-<p>“You don’t know,” he said. “We might both be seen,

-and then it would be as bad for you as for me. There’ll

-be unavoidable risks enough in this job without taking on

-any we needn’t.”</p>

-

-<p>They discussed their plans in detail, then Cheyne

-remarked: “Now that’s settled, what’s wrong with your

-coming and having a bit of dinner with me as a prelude

-to adventure?”</p>

-

-<p>“That sounds bookish. Are you keen on books? I’ll go

-and have dinner if I may pay my share, not otherwise.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne protested, but she was adamant. It appeared

-further she was a great reader, and they discussed books

-until it was time to go out. Then after dinner at an Italian

-restaurant in Soho they took the tube to Hendon and

-began to walk towards Hopefield Avenue.</p>

-

-<p>The night was chilly for mid-May, but calm and dry.

-It would soon be quite dark out of the radius of the street

-lamps, as the quarter moon had not yet risen and clouds

-obscured the light of the stars. In the main street there

-was plenty of traffic, but Hopefield Avenue was deserted

-and their footsteps rang out loudly on the pavements.</p>

-

-<p>“Let’s walk past it,” Miss Merrill suggested, “and

-perhaps we can hide and watch what goes on.”</p>

-

-<p>They did so. Laurel Lodge looked as before except that

-the lower front windows were lighted up. Building

-operations, however, had been much advanced in the six weeks

-since Cheyne’s last visit. The almost completed walls of a

-house stood on the next lot, and the house in which the

-supposed dead body of Cheyne had been abandoned was

-practically complete.</p>

-

-<p>“Half-finished houses are the stunt in this game,”

-Cheyne observed. “Suppose we go back to that next door

-to our friends and see from there if anything happens.”</p>

-

-<p>Five minutes later they had passed along the lane at the

-back of the houses and taken up their positions in what

-was evidently to be the hall of the new house. A small

-window looked out from its side, not forty feet from the

-hall door of Laurel Lodge. Cheyne made a seat of a plank

-laid across two little heaps of bricks and they sat down

-and waited.</p>

-

-<p>They were so ignorant as to the steps usually taken by a

-detective in such a situation that their idea of watching

-the house was simply adopted in the Micawberish hope

-that somehow something might turn up to help them.

-What that something might be they had no idea. But with

-the extraordinary luck which so often seems reserved for

-those who blindly plunge, they had not waited ten

-minutes before they received some really important information.</p>

-

-<p>The unconscious agent was a postman. They saw him

-first pass near a lamp farther down the street, and then

-watched him gradually approach, calling in one house

-after another. Presently he reached the gate of Laurel

-Lodge, and opening it, passed inside.</p>

-

-<p>From where they sat, the watchers, being in line with

-the front of the house, were not actually in sight of the

-hall door. But there was a heap of building material in

-front of their hiding place and Cheyne, slipping

-hurriedly out, crouched behind the pile in such a position

-that he could see what might take place.</p>

-

-<p>In due course the postman reached the door, but instead

-of delivering his letters and retreating, he knocked and

-stood waiting. The door was opened by a woman, and her

-silhouette against the lighted interior showed she was not

-Susan Dangle. The woman was short, stout and elderly.</p>

-

-<p>“Evening, ma’am,” Cheyne heard the man say. “A

-parcel for you.”</p>

-

-<p>The woman thanked him and closed the door, while the

-postman crossed to a house on the opposite side of the

-street. As soon as his back was turned Cheyne left his

-hiding-place, and was strolling along the road when the

-postman again stepped on to the footpath.</p>

-

-<p>“Good-evening, postman,” said Cheyne. “I’m looking

-for people called Dangle somewhere about here. Could

-you tell me where they live?”</p>

-

-<p>The postman stopped and answered civilly:</p>

-

-<p>“They’ve left here, sir, or at least there were people of

-that name here till a few weeks ago. They lived over

-there.” He pointed to Laurel Lodge.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne made a gesture of annoyance.</p>

-

-<p>“Moved; have they? Then I’ve missed them. I suppose

-you couldn’t tell me where they’ve gone?”</p>

-

-<p>The postman shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“Sorry, sir, but I couldn’t. If you was to go to the post

-office in Hendon they might know. But I couldn’t say

-nothing about it.”</p>

-

-<p>Nor could the postman remember the exact date of the

-Dangles’ departure. It was five or six weeks since or

-maybe more, but he couldn’t say for sure.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne returned to Miss Merrill with his news. A sudden

-flitting on the Dangles’ part seemed indicated, born

-doubtless of panic at the disappearance of the supposed

-corpse, and if this was the cause of their move, no

-applications at the post office or elsewhere would bear fruit.</p>

-

-<p>“We should have foreseen this,” Cheyne declared

-gloomily. “If you think of it, to make themselves scarce

-was about the only thing they could do. If I was alive

-and conscious they couldn’t tell how soon they might have

-a visit from the police.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, we’ve got to find them,” his companion

-answered. “I’ll begin by making inquiries at the house. No,”

-as Cheyne demurred, “it’s my turn. You stay here and

-listen.”</p>

-

-<p>She slipped out on to the road, and passing through the

-gate of Laurel Lodge, rang the bell. The same elderly

-woman came to the door and Miss Merrill asked if Miss

-Dangle was at home.</p>

-

-<p>The woman was communicative if not illuminating.

-No one called Dangle lived in the house, though she

-understood her predecessors had borne that name. She and her

-son had moved in only three weeks before, and they

-had only taken the house a fortnight before that. She did

-not know anything of the Dangles. Oh, no, she had not

-taken the house furnished. She had brought her own

-furniture with her. Indeed yes, moving was a horrible business

-and so expensive.</p>

-

-<p>“That’s something about the furniture,” Miss Merrill

-said, when breathless and triumphant she had rejoined

-Cheyne. “If they took their furniture we have only to find

-out who moved it for them. Then we can find where it

-was taken.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s the ticket,” Cheyne declared admiringly. “But

-how on earth are we going to find the removers? Have

-you any ideas?”</p>

-

-<p>Miss Merrill looked at him quizzically.</p>

-

-<p>“Just full of ’em,” she smiled, “and to prove it I’ll make

-you a bet. I’ll bet you the price of our next dinner that I

-have the information inside half an hour. What time is

-it? Half-past nine. Very well: before ten o’clock. But the

-information may cost you anything up to a pound. Are

-you on?”</p>

-

-<p>“Of course I’m on,” Cheyne returned heartily, though

-in reality he was not too pleased by the trend of affairs.

-“Do you want the pound now?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, I have it. But whatever the information costs me

-you may pay. Now <i>au revoir</i> until ten o’clock.”</p>

-

-<p>She glided away before Cheyne could reply, and for

-some minutes he sat alone in the half-built porch

-wondering what she was doing and wishing he could smoke. It

-was cold sitting still in the current of chilly air which

-poured through the gaping brickwork. He felt tired and

-despondent, and realized against his will that he had been

-severely shaken by his experiences and was by no means as

-yet completely recovered. If it was not for this splendid girl

-he would have been strongly tempted to throw up the

-sponge, and he thought with longing of the deep armchairs

-in the smoking room at the hotel, or better still, in

-Miss Merrill’s studio.</p>

-

-<p>Presently he saw her. She was crossing the street in front

-of Laurel Lodge. She was directly in the light of a lamp

-and he could not but admire her graceful carriage and the

-dainty way in which she tripped along.</p>

-

-<p>She pushed open the gate of a house directly opposite

-and disappeared into the shadow behind its encircling

-hedge. In a moment she was out again and had entered

-the gate of the next house. There she remained for some

-time; indeed the hands on the luminous dial of Cheyne’s

-watch showed three minutes to the hour before she

-reappeared. She recrossed the road and presently Cheyne

-heard her whisper: “That was a near squeak for my

-dinner! It’s not after ten, is it?”</p>

-

-<p>“Half a minute before,” breathed Cheyne, continuing

-eagerly: “Well, what luck?”</p>

-

-<p>“Watterson &amp; Swayne. Vans came the day after your

-adventure.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne whistled below his breath.</p>

-

-<p>“My word!” he whispered, “but you’re simply It! How

-in all this earthly world did you find that out?”</p>

-

-<p>She chuckled delightedly.</p>

-

-<p>“Easy as winking,” she declared. “Got it fifth shot. I

-called at five of the houses overlooking the Laurel gate,

-and pretended to be a woman detective after the Dangles.

-I was mysterious about the crimes they had committed and

-got the servants interested. There were servants at three

-of the houses—the others I let alone. I offered the

-servants five shillings for the name of the vans which had

-come to take the stuff, and the third girl remembered. I

-gave her the five shillings and told her I was good for

-another five if she could tell me the date of the moving,

-and after some time she was able to fix it. She remembered

-she had seen the vans on the day of a party at her sister’s,

-and she found the date of that from an old letter.”</p>

-

-<p>“Good for you! I say, Miss Merrill, if you’re going to

-carry on like this we shall soon have all we want. What’s

-the next step now? Inquiries at Watterson &amp; Swayne’s?”</p>

-

-<p>“No,” she said decidedly, “the next step for you is bed.

-You’re not really well enough yet for this sort of thing.

-We’ve done enough for tonight. We’ll go home.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne protested, but as, apart from his health, it was

-obvious that inquiries could not at that hour be instituted

-at the furniture removers, he had to agree.</p>

-

-<p>“I shall go round and see them tomorrow morning,”

-he remarked as they walked back along Hopefield Avenue.

-“I suppose you couldn’t manage to come at that time? Or

-shall I wait until the afternoon?”</p>

-

-<p>She shook her head.</p>

-

-<p>“Neither,” she answered. “I shall be busy all day and

-you must just carry on.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne felt a surprisingly keen disappointment.</p>

-

-<p>“But mayn’t I come and report progress in the

-afternoon?” he begged.</p>

-

-<p>“Not until after four. I shall be painting up till then.”</p>

-

-<p>He wanted to see her home, but this she would not hear

-of, and soon he was occupying one of these deep chairs in

-the hotel smoking room whose allure had seemed so strong

-to him in the draughty porch of the half-built house. As

-he sat he thought over the turn which this evening’s inquiry

-had given to the affair in which he was engaged. It was

-clear enough now that Miss Merrill’s view had been

-correct and that the Dangles were scared stiff by the absence

-of information about the finding of his body. As he put

-himself in their place, he saw that flight was indeed their

-only course. What he marveled at was that they should

-have taken time to remove their furniture. From their

-point of view it must have been a horrible risk, and it

-undoubtedly left, through the carrying contractor, a

-certain clue to their whereabouts.</p>

-

-<p>But when Cheyne began his inquiries on the following

-morning he rapidly became less impressed with the

-certainty of the clue. A direct request at the firm’s office for

-Dangle’s address was met by a polite <i>non possumus</i>, and

-when during the dinner hour Cheyne succeeded in

-bribing a junior clerk to let him have the information, at a

-further interview the lad declared he could not find it. It

-was not until after five hours’ inquiry among the drivers

-of the various vans which entered and left the yard that

-he learned anything, and even then he found himself no

-further on. The furniture, which had been collected from

-an unoccupied house, had been stored and still remained

-in Messrs. Watterson &amp; Swayne’s warehouses.</p>

-

-<p>It was a weary and disgruntled Cheyne who at six

-o’clock that evening dragged himself up the ten flights to

-Miss Merrill’s room. But when he was seated in her big

-armchair with his pipe going and had consumed a whisky

-and soda which she had poured out for him he began to

-feel that all was not necessarily lost and that life had

-compensations for failures in the role of amateur detective.</p>

-

-<p>She listened carefully to his tale of woe, finally dropping

-a word of sympathy with his disappointment and of praise

-for his efforts which left him thinking she was certainly

-the good pal he expected her to be.</p>

-

-<p>“But that’s not the worst,” he went on gloomily. “It’s

-bad enough that I have failed today, but it’s a great deal

-worse that I don’t know how I am going to do any

-better. Those Watterson &amp; Swayne people simply <em>won’t</em> give

-away any information, and I don’t see how else it’s to be

-got.”</p>

-

-<p>“There’s not much to go on certainly,” she admitted.

-“That’s where the police have the pull. They could go into

-that office and demand the Dangles’ address. You can’t.

-What about the others, that Sime and that Blessington?

-Could you trace them in any way?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne moved lazily in his chair.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t see how,” he answered slowly. “We have little

-enough information about the Dangles, but there is less

-still about the others. We have practically nothing to go

-on. I wonder what a real detective would do in such a

-case. I feel perfectly certain he would find all four in a

-few hours.”</p>

-

-<p>“Ha! That gives me an idea.” She sat up and looked

-at him eagerly, and then in answer to his question went

-on: “What about that detective who was already engaged

-on the case, the one the manager of the Plymouth hotel

-recommended? Why not get hold of him and see what he

-can do? He was a private detective, wasn’t he—not

-connected with the police?”</p>

-

-<p>“He was, and I have his name and address. By Jove,

-Miss Merrill, it’s an idea! I’ll go round and see him in

-the morning. He’s a man I didn’t take to personally, but

-what does that matter if he’s good at his job?”</p>

-

-<p>Though Cheyne thus enthusiastically received his

-companion’s suggestion, he was not greatly enamored of the

-idea. As he said, he had not liked the man personally, and

-he would have preferred to have kept the affair in his own

-hands. But he felt bankrupt of ideas for carrying on the

-inquiry, and if a professional was to be brought in, this

-man whom he knew and who was vouched for by the

-manager of the Edgecombe should be as good as another.

-He decided, however, that he would not employ the fellow

-on the case as a whole. His job should be to find the

-quartet, and if and when he did that he could be paid his

-money and sent about his business. Cheyne felt that at

-this stage at all events he was not going to share the secret

-of the linen tracing.</p>

-

-<p>But Cheyne, like many another before him, was to

-learn the difficulties which beset the path of him who

-makes half confidences.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch09">

-

-<h2>Chapter IX. <br> Mr. Speedwell Plays His Hand</h2>

-

-<p>Next morning Cheyne called at the offices of Messrs.

-Horton &amp; Lavender’s Private Detective Agency and asked

-if their Mr. Speedwell was within. By good fortune Mr.

-Speedwell was, and a few seconds later Cheyne was

-ushered into the room of the quiet, despondent-looking

-man whom he had interviewed at Warren Lodge nearly

-two months earlier.</p>

-

-<p>“Glad to see you’re better, sir,” the detective greeted

-him. “I was expecting you would look in one of these

-days. You had my letter?”</p>

-

-<p>“No,” said Cheyne, considerably surprised, “and I

-should like to know why you were expecting me and how

-you know I was ill.”</p>

-

-<p>The man smiled deprecatingly.</p>

-

-<p>“If I was really up to my job I suppose I’d tell you that

-detectives knew everything, or at least that I did, but I

-never make any mystery between friends, leastwise when

-there isn’t any. I knew you were ill because I was down

-at Warren Lodge a month ago looking for you and Miss

-Cheyne told me, and I was expecting you to call because

-I wrote asking you to do so. However, if you didn’t get

-my letter, why then it seems to me I owe the pleasure of

-this visit to something else.”</p>

-

-<p>“You’re quite right,” said Cheyne. “You do. But before

-we get on to that, tell me what you called and wrote

-about.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll do so, sir. I called because I had got some

-information for you, and when I didn’t see you I wrote for the

-same reason asking you to look in here.”</p>

-

-<p>The man spoke civilly and directly, but yet there was

-something about him which rubbed Cheyne up the wrong

-way—something furtive in his manner, by which

-instinctively the other was repelled. It was therefore with rather

-less than his usual good-natured courtesy that Cheyne

-returned: “Well, here I am then. What is your information?”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll tell you, sir. But first let me recall to your mind

-what I—acting for my firm—was asked to find out.” He

-stressed the words “acting for my firm,” and as he did so

-shot a keen questioning glance at Cheyne. The latter did

-not reply, and Speedwell, after pausing for a moment,

-went on:</p>

-

-<p>“I was employed—or rather my firm was employed”—what

-his point was Cheyne could not see, but he was

-evidently making one—“my firm was employed by the

-manager of the Edgecombe Hotel to investigate a case of

-alleged drugging which had taken place in the hotel. That

-was all, wasn’t it?”</p>

-

-<p>“That or matters arising therefrom,” Cheyne replied

-cautiously.</p>

-

-<p>The detective smiled foxily.</p>

-

-<p>“Ah, I see you have taken my meaning, Mr. Cheyne.

-That or matters arising directly therefrom. That, sir, is

-quite correct. Now, I have found out something about

-that. Not much, I admit, but still something. Though

-whether it is as much as you already are cognizant of is

-another matter.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne felt his temper giving way.</p>

-

-<p>“Look here,” he said sharply. “What are you getting at?

-I can’t spend the day here. If you’ve anything to say, for

-goodness’ sake get along and say it and have done with

-this beating about the bush.”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell made a deprecating gesture.</p>

-

-<p>“Certainly, sir; as you will. But”—he gave a dry smile—“have

-you not overlooked the fact that you called in to

-consult me?”</p>

-

-<p>“I shall not do it now,” Cheyne said angrily. “Give me

-the information that you’re being paid for and that will

-complete our business.”</p>

-

-<p>“No, sir, but with the utmost respect that will only begin

-it. I’ll give you the information right away, but first I’d

-like to come to an understanding about this other business.”</p>

-

-<p>“What under the sun are you talking about? What

-other business?”</p>

-

-<p>“The breaking and entering.” Speedwell spoke now in

-a decisive, businesslike tone. “The breaking and entering

-of a house in Hopefield Avenue—Laurel Lodge, let us call

-it—on an evening just six weeks ago—on the fifth of

-April to be exact. I should really say the burglary,

-because there was also the theft of an important

-document. The owners of that document would be glad of

-information which would lead to the arrest of the thief.”</p>

-

-<p>This astounding statement, made in the calm matter-of-fact

-way in which the man was now speaking, took

-Cheyne completely aback. For a moment he hesitated. His

-character was direct and straightforward, but for the

-space of two seconds he was tempted to prevaricate, to

-admit no knowledge of the incidents referred to. Then his

-hot temper swept away all considerations of what might

-or might not be prudent, and he burst out: “Well, Mr.

-Speedwell, what of it? If you are so well informed as you

-pretend, you’ll be aware that the parties lost no document

-on that night. I don’t know what you’re after, but it looks

-uncommonly like an attempt at blackmail.”</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Speedwell seemed pained at the suggestion. He

-assured Cheyne that his remarks had been misinterpreted,

-and deprecated the fact that such an unpleasant word had

-been brought into the discussion. “All the same,” he

-concluded meaningly, “I am glad to have your assurance that

-the document in question was not stolen from the house.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was not only mystified, but a trifle uneasy. He

-saw now that he had been maneuvered into a practical

-admission that he had committed burglary, and there was

-something in the way the detective had made his last

-remark that seemed vaguely sinister.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, what business of yours is it?” he said brusquely.

-“What do you hope to get out of it?”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell nodded as he looked at the other out of his

-close-set furtive eyes.</p>

-

-<p>“Now, sir,” he answered approvingly, “that’s what I

-like. That’s coming to business, that is. I thought perhaps

-I could be of service to you, that’s all. Here are these

-parties looking for you to make a prosecution for burglary,

-and here you are looking for them for a paper they have.

-And here am I,” his face was inexpressibly sly, “in a

-position to help either party, as you might say. There’s an old

-saying, sir, that knowledge is power, and many a time I’ve

-thought it’s a true one.”</p>

-

-<p>“And you want to sell your knowledge?”</p>

-

-<p>“Isn’t it reasonable, <em>and</em> natural? It’s my business to get

-knowledge, and I have to work hard to get it too. You

-wouldn’t have me give away the fruits of my work? It’s

-all I have to live by.”</p>

-

-<p>“Your knowledge belongs to your firm.”</p>

-

-<p>“No, sir, not in this case it doesn’t. All this work was

-done in my own time; it was my hobby, so to speak.

-Besides, my firm didn’t ask for the information and doesn’t

-want it.”</p>

-

-<p>“What do you want for it?”</p>

-

-<p>A momentary gleam appeared in Mr. Speedwell’s eyes,

-but he replied quietly and without emotion: “Two

-hundred pounds. Two hundred pounds and you shall hear all

-I know, and have my best help in whatever you want to

-do into the bargain. And in that case I won’t be able to

-tell the other parties where you are to be found, so being

-as their question was addressed to me and not to my firm.”</p>

-

-<p>“Two hundred pounds!” Cheyne cried. “I’ll see you far

-enough first. Confound your impertinence!” His anger

-rose and he almost choked. “Don’t you imagine you are

-going to blackmail me! But I’ll tell you what I am going

-to do. I’m going right in now to the head of your firm to

-let him know the way you conduct his business. Two

-hundred pounds. I don’t think!”</p>

-

-<p>He flung himself out of the room and called the girl in

-the outer office.</p>

-

-<p>“I want to see the principal of the firm,” he shouted.

-“It’s important. Either Mr. Horton or Mr. Lavender will

-do. As soon as possible, please.”</p>

-

-<p>The girl seemed half startled and half amused. “<em>Who</em>

-did you want to see?” she asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Horton or Mr. Lavender,” Cheyne repeated

-firmly, fixing her with a wrathful stare.</p>

-

-<p>“I—I’m afraid I don’t know where they are,” she

-stammered, the corners of her mouth twitching. Yes, she <em>was</em>

-laughing at him. Confound her impertinence also!</p>

-

-<p>“You don’t know?” he shouted furiously. “When will

-they be in?”</p>

-

-<p>The girl looked scared, then her amusement evidently

-overcame her apprehension and she giggled.</p>

-

-<p>“Not today, I’m afraid,” she answered. “You see Mr.

-Horton has been dead over ten years and Mr. Lavender at

-least five.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne glared at her as he asked thickly:</p>

-

-<p>“Then who is the present principal?”</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Speedwell.”</p>

-

-<p>“Damn,” said Cheyne: then as he looked at the smiling

-face of the pretty clerk he suddenly felt ashamed of

-himself.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m sure I beg your pardon,” he said, and as he saw

-how neatly he had got his desserts he laughed ruefully

-himself. This confounded temper of his, he thought, was

-always putting him into the wrong. He was just

-determining for the thousandth time that he would be more

-careful not to give way to it in future when Mr.

-Speedwell’s melancholy voice fell on his ears.</p>

-

-<p>“Ah, that is better, sir. Won’t you come back and let

-us resume our discussion?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne re-entered the private room.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he said, “but really your

-proposition was so very—I may say, amazing, that it upset

-me. Of course you were not serious in what you said?”</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Speedwell leaned forward and became the

-personification of suave amiability.</p>

-

-<p>“I sell my wares in the best market, Mr. Cheyne,” he

-declared. “You couldn’t blame me for that; it’s only

-business. But I don’t want to drive a hard bargain with you.

-I would rather have an amicable settlement. I’m always

-one for peace and goodwill. An amicable settlement, sir;

-that’s what I suggest.” He beamed on Cheyne and rubbed

-his hands genially together.</p>

-

-<p>“If you have information which would be useful to me

-I am prepared to pay its full value. As a matter of fact I

-called for that purpose. But you couldn’t have any worth

-two hundred pounds or anything like it.”</p>

-

-<p>“No? Well, just what do you want to know?”</p>

-

-<p>“Dangle’s address.”</p>

-

-<p>“I can give you that. Anything else?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne hesitated. Should he ask for all the information

-he could get about the sinister quartet and their mysterious

-activities? He had practically admitted the burglary.

-Should he not make the most of his opportunity? In for a

-penny, in for a pound.</p>

-

-<p>“Did you ever hear of a man called Sime?” he asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Of course, sir. Number Three of the quartet.”</p>

-

-<p>“I should like his address also.”</p>

-

-<p>“I can give it to you. And Blessington’s?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, Blessington’s too.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was amazed by the knowledge of this Speedwell.

-He would give a good deal to find out how he had

-obtained it.</p>

-

-<p>“What are the businesses of these men?”</p>

-

-<p>“That,” said Mr. Speedwell, “is three questions. First:

-What is Dangle’s business? Second: What is Sime’s

-business? Third: What is Blessington’s business? Yes, sir, I

-can answer these questions also.”</p>

-

-<p>“How did you find all that out?”</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Speedwell smiled and shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“There, sir, you have me. I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.

-You see, if we professional detectives were to give away

-our little methods to you amateur gentlemen we should

-soon be out of business. You, sir, will appreciate the

-position. It would be parting with our capital, and no business

-man can afford to do that. Anything else, Mr. Cheyne?”</p>

-

-<p>“You mentioned a paper?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, sir?”</p>

-

-<p>“Where is it?”</p>

-

-<p>“That I can answer partially.”</p>

-

-<p>“What is it about?”</p>

-

-<p>“I do not know.”</p>

-

-<p>“Ah, then there is something you do not know. What is

-the enterprise these men are going into in connection with

-the paper?”</p>

-

-<p>“That, Mr. Cheyne, I do not know either. You see I

-am perfectly open with you. I have been conducting a

-sort of desultory inquiry into these men’s affairs, partly

-because I was interested, partly because I thought I could

-turn my information into money. I have reached the point

-indicated in my answers. I can proceed with the

-investigation and learn the rest of what you wish to know,

-assuming of course that we come to suitable terms. You

-can have the information I have already gained now, with

-of course the same proviso.”</p>

-

-<p>“What are your terms?”</p>

-

-<p>“Twenty pounds a question. You have asked six questions

-to which I can give complete answers and one which

-I can answer partially; say six twenties and one

-ten—total, one hundred and thirty pounds.”</p>

-

-<p>“But it’s iniquitous, scandalous, extortionate! I shouldn’t

-think of paying such a sum.”</p>

-

-<p>“No, sir? That’s a matter for yourself alone. It seems to

-me, then, that our business is completed.” The man

-paused, then as Cheyne made no move continued

-confidentially. “You see, sir, I needn’t tell a gentleman like

-yourself that value is relative and not absolute. If I hadn’t

-another party willing to pay for my information about you

-I couldn’t perhaps afford to refuse what you might be

-pleased to offer. But if I don’t get my hundred and thirty

-from you I’ll get it from the other party. It’s a matter of

-£. s. d. for me.”</p>

-

-<p>“But how do I know you won’t get my hundred and

-thirty and then go to the other party for his?”</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Speedwell smiled craftily.</p>

-

-<p>“You don’t know, sir. In these matters one person has

-to take the other’s word. You pay your money and you get

-the information you ask for. You don’t pay and I keep it.

-It’s for you to say what you’ll do.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne sat in thought. It was evident this man could

-give him valuable information, and he was well aware

-that if he had employed him to obtain it it might easily

-have cost him more than the sum asked. He did not doubt,

-either, that the quartet had asked for information about

-himself. When his dead body had not been found it would

-have been a likely move. But he was surprised that they

-should have asked under their own names. But then again,

-they mightn’t have. Speedwell might have found these out.

-It was certainly an extraordinary coincidence that himself

-and the gang should have consulted the same private

-detective, though of course there was nothing inherently

-impossible in it.</p>

-

-<p>On the whole he felt disposed to pay the money. He was

-comfortably enough off and he would scarcely feel it. The

-payment would not commit him to anything or put him

-in any way in the power of this detective. Moreover, the

-man was evidently skillful at his job and it might be useful

-enough to have him on his side. And last, but not least,

-after his failure of the day before it would be a pleasure to

-go back to Miss Merrill and tell her how well he had

-succeeded on this occasion.</p>

-

-<p>“Look here,” he said. “I don’t think you can expect me

-to believe that these people came and asked you to find

-the burglar who had made off with their confidential

-paper, so that they might prosecute. That’s rather tall, you

-know. Why didn’t they go direct to the police?”</p>

-

-<p>“I’m only telling you what they said. I’m not saying I

-believed it was really what they wanted.” Speedwell

-paused. “As a matter of fact I don’t mind telling you what

-I think,” he went on presently. “I believe they are scared

-about you, and they want to find you to finish up the job

-they bungled. That’s what I think, but I may be wrong.”</p>

-

-<p>“And if I pay you your hundred and thirty you’ll give

-me your pledge not to give them the information?”</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Speedwell looked pained.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t think I said that, sir. It was two hundred that

-was mentioned. But see here. I don’t want to be grasping.

-If you make it the even hundred and fifty I’ll answer your

-questions and not theirs. Is it a bargain, sir?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” said Cheyne. “I have my check-book here and

-I’ll fill you in a check for the money as soon as I get your

-replies.”</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Speedwell beamed.</p>

-

-<p>“Excellent, sir. An amicable settlement. That’s what I

-like. Well, sir, I can trust you to keep your word. Here

-are the answers to your questions.” He took a bulky

-notebook from his pocket and continued:</p>

-

-<p>“First question, Dangle’s present address: Earlswood,

-Dalton Avenue, Wembley.” He waited while Cheyne

-wrote the address, then went on: “Second question,

-Sime’s present address: 12 Colton Street, Putney.” Again

-a pause and then: “Third question, Blessington’s present

-address: Earlswood, Dalton Av—”</p>

-

-<p>“The same as Dangle’s?”</p>

-

-<p>“The same as Dangle’s, or rather, to be strictly accurate,

-Dangle’s is the same as Blessington’s. Blessington lives at

-this place and has for several years; Dangle joined him

-about six weeks ago, to be precise, on the day after the

-incident which I have just forgotten.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne nodded with a rueful smile.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, then, these men’s occupations?”</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Speedwell was not to be hurried.</p>

-

-<p>“Fourth question,” he proceeded methodically, “Dangle’s

-occupation. Dangle, Mr. Cheyne, is just an ordinary

-town sharp. He has a bit of money and adds to it in the

-usual ways. He’s in with a cardsharping gang and helps

-them in their stunts—for a consideration. He frequents a

-West End gaming room, and if there is any fat pigeon

-around he’ll lend a hand in the plucking. The sister helps

-as a decoy. They’re a warm pair and I should think are

-watched by the police. They’ll not want their dealings with

-you to come into the limelight anyway, so you’ve a pull

-over them there.”</p>

-

-<p>“Has Dangle no ostensible profession?”</p>

-

-<p>“Not that I know of, unless you call billiard playing a

-profession.”</p>

-

-<p>“You might give me the address of the gaming rooms.”</p>

-

-<p>“27 Greenway Lane, Knightsbridge.”</p>

-

-<p>“What about Sime?”</p>

-

-<p>“Sime is another of the same kidney. He does the night

-club end and brings likely mugs on to the gaming rooms.

-A plausible ruffian, Sime. A man without scruple and bad

-to be up against. He has no ostensible business, either.”</p>

-

-<p>“And Blessington?”</p>

-

-<p>“Blessington is, in my opinion, the worst of the three.

-He has ten times the brains of the other two put together

-and is an out and out scoundrel. He’s well enough off in

-a small way and is supposed to have made his money by

-systematic blackmail. He’s supplying the cash for this little

-do of yours, whatever it may be. He is believed at Wembley

-to be something in the city, but I don’t think he has any

-job. Lives on the interest of his money, I should think.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne noted the replies, marveling how the detective

-had come to learn so much. Then he asked his seventh

-question.</p>

-

-<p>“Where is the paper?”</p>

-

-<p>“That, sir, I can only answer partially. It is, or was up

-till quite lately, in Blessington’s possession. Whether he

-carries it about with him or keeps it in his house or in his

-bank I don’t know. He may even have lent it to one of the

-others, but he is the chief of the enterprise and it appears

-to belong to him.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s all right,” Cheyne admitted. “Now what were

-you going to tell me apart from these questions—the

-information you wrote about?”</p>

-

-<p>“Simply, sir, that the man who drugged you in the

-Edgecombe Hotel in Plymouth was named Stewart

-Blessington, that he lived at Wembley, and that he drugged

-you in order to ascertain if you carried on your person a

-certain paper of which he was in search.”</p>

-

-<p>“You can’t tell me how he did it?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, sir. Some simple trick of course, but I had no

-chance to find it out. I might perhaps suggest that he had

-two similar flasks, one innocent and the other drugged,

-and that he changed them by sleight of hand while

-attracting your attention elsewhere.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne shook his head. He had thought of this

-explanation before, but it was not satisfactory. He had been

-watching the man and he was satisfied he had not played

-any such trick. Besides, this would not explain why no

-trace of a drug was found in the food. Speedwell,

-however, could make no further suggestion.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne put away his notebook.</p>

-

-<p>“There’s another thing I should like to know,” he said,

-“and that is how you have learned all this. I suppose you

-won’t tell me?”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell smiled as he shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“Some day, sir, when the case is over. You see, if I were

-to show you my channels of information you would

-naturally use them yourself, and then where should I come

-in? A man in my job soon learns where to pick up a bit

-of knowledge. It’s partly practice and partly knowing the

-ropes.”</p>

-

-<p>“And there’s another thing I wish,” Cheyne went on as

-if he had not heard the other, “and that is that you had

-gone a bit further in your researches and learned what

-that paper was and what game that gang is up to.”</p>

-

-<p>The detective’s manner became more eager.</p>

-

-<p>“That’s what I was coming to myself, Mr. Cheyne. If

-you want that information I can get it for you. But it may

-cost you a bit of money. It would depend on the time I

-should have to spend on it and the risks I should have to

-run. If you would like me to take it on for you I could

-do so. But of course it’s a matter for yourself altogether.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne reflected. This Speedwell had certainly done an

-amazing amount of work already on the case, and his

-success so far showed that he was a shrewd and capable

-man. To engage him to complete the work would probably

-be the quickest way of bringing the matter to a head,

-and the easiest, so far as he himself was concerned. But

-then he would lose all the excitement and the fun. He had

-pitted his wits against these men, and to hand the affair

-over to Speedwell would be to confess himself beaten.

-Moreover, he would have to admit his failure to Miss

-Merrill and to forego any more alarms and excursions

-in her company. No, he would keep the thing in his own

-hands for the present at all events.</p>

-

-<p>He therefore said that he was obliged for the other’s

-offer, which later on he might be glad to accept, but that

-for the moment he would not make any further move.</p>

-

-<p>“Right, sir. Whatever you say,” Speedwell agreed

-amicably. “I might add what indeed you’ll be able to

-guess for yourself from what I’ve told you, that this crowd

-is a pretty shrewd crowd, and they’ll not, so to speak, be

-beating the air in this job of yours. They’re going for

-something, and you may take it from me that something

-will be worth their going for. At least, if not, I’ll eat my

-hat.”</p>

-

-<p>“I quite agree with you,” Cheyne returned, fumbling

-in his pocket. “It now remains for me to write my check

-and then we shall be square.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne counted the hours until four o’clock, and as

-soon as he dared he set off for No. 17 Horne Terrace.

-Indeed, he timed his visit so well that as he reached the top

-of the tenth flight of steps, the door of room No. 12 opened

-and the model emerged. She held the door open for him,

-and ten minutes later he was seated in the big armchair

-drinking the usual cup of fragrant China tea.</p>

-

-<p>Miss Merrill listened with close attention to his story,

-but she was not so enthusiastic at his success as he could

-have wished. She made no comment until he had finished

-and then her remark was, if anything, disparaging.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t quite like it, you know,” she said slowly. “From

-your description of him it certainly looks as if that

-detective was playing a game of his own. It doesn’t sound

-straight. Do you think you can trust him?”</p>

-

-<p>“Not as far as I can see him, but how can I help

-myself? I expect the addresses he gave are all correct, but I’m

-not at all satisfied that he won’t go straight to the gang

-and tell them he has found me and get their money for

-that.”</p>

-

-<p>“And you think you wouldn’t be wiser to back out

-yourself and instruct him to carry on for you?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne sat up and took his pipe out of his mouth.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m damned if I will,” he declared hotly. “It might be

-a lot wiser and all that, but I’m just not going to.”</p>

-

-<p>“You’re quite sure? I couldn’t persuade you?” she went

-on demurely, without looking at him.</p>

-

-<p>“I can’t imagine you trying, Miss Merrill. But in any

-case I’m going on.”</p>

-

-<p>“Good!” she cried, and her eyes lit up as she smiled at

-him. “You’re quite mad, but I sometimes like mad people.

-Then if, in spite of all I can say, you’re going on, what

-about a visit to Wembley tonight?”</p>

-

-<p>“The very ticket!” Cheyne was swept by a wave of

-delight and enthusiasm. “It is jolly of you to suggest it.

-And you will come out to dinner and I may pay my bet!”</p>

-

-<p>“As it’s a bet—all right. But you must go away now.

-I have some things to attend to. I’ll meet you when and

-where you say.”</p>

-

-<p>“What about the Trocadero at seven? A leisurely dinner

-and then we for Wembley?”</p>

-

-<p>“Right-o,” she laughed and vanished into the other

-room, while Cheyne, full of an eager excitement, went off

-to telephone orders to the restaurant as to the reservation

-of places.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch10">

-

-<h2>Chapter X. <br> The New Firm Gets Busy</h2>

-

-<p>Cheyne and Joan Merrill took a Wembley Park train

-from Baker Street shortly before nine that evening, and a

-few minutes later alighted at the station whose name was

-afterwards to become a household word throughout the

-length and breadth of the British Empire. But at that time

-the Exhibition was not yet thought of, and the ground,

-which was later to hum with scores of thousands of visitors

-from all parts of the world, was now a dark and deserted

-plain.</p>

-

-<p>When the young people left the station and began to

-look around them, they found that they had reached the

-actual fringe of the metropolis. Towards London were the

-last outlying rows of detached and semidetached houses

-of the standard suburban type. In the opposite direction,

-towards Harrow, was the darkness of open country. Judging

-by the number of lights that were visible, this country

-was extraordinarily sparsely inhabited.</p>

-

-<p>Guarded inquiries from the railway officials had evoked

-the information that Dalton Road lay some ten minutes’

-walk from the station in a northeasterly direction, and

-thither the two set off. They passed along with

-circumspection, keeping as far as possible from the street lamps

-and with their coat collars turned up and the brims of

-their hats pulled down over their eyes. But the place was

-deserted. During the whole of their walk they met only

-one person—a man going evidently to the station, and he

-strode past with barely a glance.</p>

-

-<p>Dalton Road proved, save for its street lamps and

-footpath, to be little more than a lane. It led somewhat

-windingly in an easterly direction off the main road. The

-country at this point was more thickly populated and there was

-quite a number of houses in view. All were built in the

-style of forty years ago, and were nearly all detached,

-standing in small grounds or lots. Here and there were

-fine old trees which looked as if they must have been in

-existence long before the houses, and most of the lots were

-well supplied with shrubs and with high and thick

-partition hedges.</p>

-

-<p>Nearly all the gates bore names, and as the two young

-people walked along, they had no difficulty in identifying

-Earlswood. There was a lamp at the other side of the road

-which enabled them to read the white letters on their

-green ground. Without pausing they glanced around,

-noting what they could of their surroundings.</p>

-

-<p>A narrow lane running north and south intersected

-Dalton Road at this point, and in each of the four angles

-were houses. That in the southwest corner was undergoing

-extension, the side next the lane showing scaffolding

-and half-built brick walls. The two adjoining corners were

-occupied by houses which presented no interesting

-features, and in the fourth corner, diagonally opposite that of

-the building operations, stood Earlswood. All four houses

-were surrounded by unusually large lots containing plenty

-of trees. Earlswood was particularly secluded, the hall door

-being almost hidden from both road and lane by hedges

-and shrubs.</p>

-

-<p>“Lucky it’s got all those trees about it,” Cheyne

-whispered as they passed on down Dalton Road. “If we have

-to burgle it we can do it without being overlooked by the

-neighbors.”</p>

-

-<p>They continued on their way until they found that

-Dalton Road debouched on a wide thoroughfare which

-inquiries showed was Watling Street, the main road

-between London and St. Albans. Then retracing their

-steps to Earlswood, they followed the cross lane, first south,

-which brought them back to Wembley, and north, which

-after about a mile brought them out on the Harrow Road.

-Having thus learned the lie of the land so as to know

-where to head in case a sudden flight became necessary,

-they returned once more to Earlswood to attempt a closer

-examination of the house.</p>

-

-<p>They had noticed when passing along the cross lane

-beside the house to which the extension was being made

-that a gap had been broken in the hedge for the purpose

-of getting in the building materials. This was closed only

-by a wooden slat. With one consent they made for the

-gap, slipped through, and crouching in the shadow of the

-shrubs within, set themselves to watch Earlswood.</p>

-

-<p>No light showed in any of the front windows, and as

-soon as Miss Merrill was seated on a bundle of brushwood

-sheltered from the light but rather chilly wind, Cheyne

-crept out to reconnoiter more closely. Making sure that

-no one was approaching, he slipped through the hedge,

-and then crossing both road and lane diagonally, passed

-down the lane at the side of Earlswood.</p>

-

-<p>There was no gap in the Earlswood hedge, but just as

-in the case of that other similarly situated house which he

-had investigated, a narrow lane ran along at the bottom

-of the tiny garden behind. Cheyne turned into this and

-stood looking at the back of the house. The whole

-proceeding seemed familiar, a repetition of his actions on the

-night he traced the gang to Hopefield Avenue.</p>

-

-<p>But the back of this house was in darkness, and pushing

-open a gate, he passed from the lane to the garden and

-silently approached the building. A path led straight from

-gate to door, a side door evidently, as the walled-in yard

-was on his left hand. Another path to the right led round

-the house to the hall door in the front.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne walked slowly round, examining doors and

-windows. All of these were fastened and he did not see

-how without breaking the glass he could force an entrance.

-But he found a window at the back, the sash of which was

-loose and easy fitting, and decided that in case of need he

-would operate on this.</p>

-

-<p>Having learned everything he could, he retraced his

-steps to his companion and they held a whispered

-consultation. Cheyne was for taking the opportunity of the house

-being empty to make an attempt then and there to get in.

-But Miss Merrill would not hear of it. Such a venture, she

-said, would require very careful thought as well as

-apparatus which they had not got. “Besides,” she added, “you’ve

-done enough for one night. Remember you’re not

-completely well yet.”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, blow my health; I’m perfectly all right,” he

-whispered back, but he had to admit her other arguments were

-sound and the two, cautiously emerging from their

-hiding-place, walked back to Wembley and took the next train

-to town.</p>

-

-<p>She was silent during the journey, but as they reached

-Baker Street she turned to him and said: “Look here, I

-believe I’ve got an idea. Bring a long-burning electric

-torch with you tomorrow afternoon and whatever tools

-you want to open the window, and perhaps we’ll try our

-luck.” She would not explain her plan nor would she allow

-him to accompany her to the studio, so with rather a bad

-grace he said good night and returned to his hotel.</p>

-

-<p>The next day he spent in making an assortment of

-purchases. These were in all a powerful electric torch,

-guaranteed to burn brightly for a couple of hours, a short,

-slightly bent lever of steel with a chisel point at one end,

-a cap, a pair of thin gloves, a glazier’s diamond, some

-twenty feet of thin rope and a five-inch piece of bright

-steel tubing with a tiny handle at one side. These, when

-four o’clock came, he took with him to Horne Terrace and

-spread in triumph on Miss Merrill’s table.</p>

-

-<p>“Good gracious!” cried the young lady as she stared

-wonderingly at the collection. “Whatever are these?

-Another expedition to Mount Everest?”</p>

-

-<p>“Torch: takes the place of the old dark lantern,”

-Cheyne answered proudly, pointing to the article in

-question. “Jemmy for persuading intractable doors, boxes and

-drawers; cap that will not drop or blow off; gloves to

-keep one’s fingerprints off the furniture; diamond for

-making holes in panes of glass; penknife for shooting back

-snibs of windows; rope for escaping from upstairs

-windows, and this”—he picked up the bit of tube and

-levelled it at her—“what price this for bluffing out of a

-tight place? If the light’s not too good it’s a pretty fair

-imitation. Also”—he pointed to his feet—“rubber-soled

-shoes for silence.”</p>

-

-<p>She gave a delightful little ripple of laughter, then

-became serious.</p>

-

-<p>“Have you no anklets?” she asked anxiously. “Don’t say

-you have forgotten your anklets!”</p>

-

-<p>“Anklets?” he repeated. “What d’you mean? I don’t

-follow.”</p>

-

-<p>“To guard against the bites of sharks, of course,” she

-declared. “Don’t you remember the White Knight had

-them for his horse?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was so serious and eager that he felt somewhat

-dashed, but he joined in the laugh, and when they had

-had tea they settled down to talk over their arrangements.

-Then it seemed that she really had a plan, and when

-Cheyne heard it he became immediately enthusiastic.

-Like all good plans it was simple, and soon they had the

-details cut and dry.</p>

-

-<p>“Let’s try tonight,” Cheyne cried in excitement.</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, I think we should. If these people have some

-scheme on hand every day’s delay is in their favor and

-against you.”</p>

-

-<p>“Against us, Joan, not against me,” he cried, then

-realizing what he had said, he looked at her anxiously. “I

-may call you Joan, mayn’t I?” he pleaded. “You see,

-we’re partners now.”</p>

-

-<p>She didn’t mind, it appeared, what he called her. Any

-old name would do. And she didn’t mind calling him

-Maxwell either. She hadn’t noticed that Maxwell was so

-frightfully long and clumsy, but she supposed Max <em>was</em>

-shorter. So that was that. They returned to the Plan.

-Though they continued discussing it for nearly an hour

-neither was able to improve on it, except that they decided

-that the first thing to be done if they got hold of the

-tracing was to copy their adversaries and photograph it.</p>

-

-<p>“Drat this daylight saving,” Cheyne grumbled. “If it

-wasn’t for that we could start a whole hour earlier. As it

-is there is no use going out there before nine.” He paused

-and then went on: “Queer thing that these two houses

-should be so much alike—this Earlswood and the one in

-Hopefield Avenue. Both at cross roads, both with lanes

-behind them, and both surrounded by gardens and hedges

-and shrubs.”</p>

-

-<p>“Very queer,” Joan admitted, “especially as there

-probably aren’t more than a hundred thousand houses of that

-type in London. But it’s all to the good. You’ll feel at

-home when you get in.”</p>

-

-<p>They sparred pleasantly for some time, then after a

-leisurely dinner they tubed to Baker Street and took the

-train to Wembley Park. It was darker than on the

-previous evening, for the sky was thickly overcast. There

-had been some rain during the day, but this had now

-ceased, though the wind had turned east and it had

-become cold and raw.</p>

-

-<p>Turning into Dalton Road, they reached the cross-lane

-at Earlswood, passed through the gap in the hedge and

-took up their old position among the shrubs. They had

-seen no one and they believed they were unobserved.

-From where they crouched they could see that Earlswood

-was again in darkness, and presently Cheyne slipped

-away to explore.</p>

-

-<p>He was soon back again with the welcome news that

-the rear of the house was also unlighted and that the Plan

-might be put into operation forthwith. In spite of Joan’s

-ridicule he had insisted on bringing his complete outfit,

-and he now stood up and patted himself over to make

-sure that everything was in place. The cap, the gloves, and

-the shoes he was wearing, the rope was coiled round his

-waist beneath his coat, and the other articles were stowed

-in his various pockets. He turned and signified that he

-was ready.</p>

-

-<p>Joan opened the proceedings by passing out through the

-gap in the hedge, walking openly across to the Earlswood

-hall door, and ringing. This was to make sure that the

-house really was untenanted. If any one came she would

-simply ask if Mrs. Bryce-Harris was at home and then

-apologize for having mistaken the address.</p>

-

-<p>But no one answered, and the demonstration of this was

-Cheyne’s cue. When he had waited for five minutes after

-Joan’s departure and no sound came from across the road,

-he in his turn slipped out through the gap in the hedge,

-and after a glance round, crossed Dalton Road, and passing

-down by the side of Earlswood, turned into the lane at

-the back. On this occasion he could dimly see the gate into

-the garden, which was painted white, and he passed

-through, leaving it open behind him, and reached the

-house.</p>

-

-<p>The point upon which Joan’s plan hinged was that,

-owing to the shrubs in front of the building, it was possible

-to remain concealed in the shadows beside the porch,

-invisible from the road. She proposed, therefore, to stay at

-the door while Cheyne was carrying on operations within,

-and to ring if any one approached the house, adding a

-double knock if there was urgent danger. She would hold

-the newcomer with inquiries as to the whereabouts of the

-mythical Mrs. Bryce-Harris, thus insuring time for her

-companion to beat a retreat. She herself also would have

-time in which to vanish before her victims realized what

-had happened.</p>

-

-<p>Feeling, therefore, that he would have a margin in

-which to withdraw if flight became necessary, Cheyne set

-to work to force an entrance. He rapidly examined the

-doors and windows, but all were fastened as before.

-Choosing the window with the loose sash upon which he had

-already decided, he took his knife and tried to open the

-catch. The two sashes were “rabbitted” where they met,

-but he was able to push the blade up right through the

-overhanging wood of the upper sash and lever the catch

-round until it snapped clear. Then withdrawing the knife,

-he raised the bottom sash. A moment later he was standing

-on the scullery floor.</p>

-

-<p>His first care was to unlock and throw open the back

-door, so as to provide an emergency exit in case of need.

-Then he closed and refastened the scullery window,

-darkening with a pencil the wood where the knife had broken

-a splinter. As he said to himself, there was no kind of

-sense in calling attention to his visit.</p>

-

-<p>He crossed the hall and silently opened the front door

-to see that all was right with Joan. Then closing it again,

-he began a search of the house.</p>

-

-<p>The building was of old-fashioned design, a narrow hall

-running through its center from back to front. Five doors

-opened off this hall, leading to the dining room and the

-kitchen at one side, a sitting room and a kind of library

-or study at the other, and the garden at the back. Upstairs

-were four bedrooms—one unoccupied—and a servant’s

-room.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne rapidly passed through the house searching for

-likely hiding places for the tracing. Soon he came to the

-conclusion that unless some freak place had been chosen,

-it would be in one of two places: either a big roll-top desk

-in the library or an old-fashioned escritoire in one of the

-bedrooms. Both of these were locked. Fortunately there

-was no safe.</p>

-

-<p>He decided to try the desk first. A gentle application of

-the jemmy burst its lock and he threw up the cover and

-sat down to go through the contents.</p>

-

-<p>Evidently it belonged to Blessington, and evidently also

-Blessington was a man of tidy and businesslike habits.

-There were but few papers on the desk and these from

-their date were clearly current and waiting to be dealt

-with. In the drawers were bundles of letters, accounts,

-receipts, and miscellaneous papers, all neatly tied together

-with tape and docketed. In one of the side drawers was a

-card index and in another a vertical numeralpha letter

-file. Through all of these Cheyne hurriedly looked, but

-nowhere was there any sign of the tracing.</p>

-

-<p>A few measurements with a pocket rule showed that

-there were no spaces in the desk unaccounted for, and

-closing the top, Cheyne hurried upstairs to the escritoire.

-It was a fine old piece and it went to his heart to damage

-it with the jemmy. But he remembered his treatment

-aboard the <i>Enid</i>, and such a paroxysm of anger swept

-over him that he plunged in the point of his tool and

-ruthlessly splintered open the lid.</p>

-

-<p>The drawers were fastened by separate locks, and each

-one Cheyne smashed with a savage satisfaction. Then he

-began to examine their contents.</p>

-

-<p>This was principally bundles of old letters, tied up in

-the same methodical way as those downstairs. Cheyne did

-not read anything, but from the fragments of sentences

-which he could not help seeing there seemed ample

-corroboration of Speedwell’s statements that Blessington lived

-by professional blackmail. He felt a wave of disgust sweep

-over him as he went through drawer after drawer of the

-obscene collection.</p>

-

-<p>But here also no luck met his efforts, and with a sinking

-heart he took out his rule to measure the escritoire. And

-then he became suddenly excited as he found that the

-thickness of the wood at the back of the drawers, which

-normally should have been about half an inch, measured

-no less than four inches. Here, surely, there must be a

-secret drawer.</p>

-

-<p>He examined the woodwork, but nowhere could he see

-the slightest trace of an opening. He pressed and pulled

-and pushed, but still without result: no knob would slide,

-no panel depress. But of the existence of the space there

-was no doubt. There was room for a receptacle six inches

-by twelve by three, and, moreover, all six sides of it

-sounded hollow when tapped.</p>

-

-<p>There was nothing for it but force. With a sharp stroke

-he rammed the point of the jemmy into the side. It

-penetrated, he levered it down, and with a grinding, cracking

-sound the wood split and part of it was prised off. Eagerly

-Cheyne put the torch to the opening, and he chuckled

-with satisfaction as he saw within the familiar lilac gray

-of the tracing.</p>

-

-<p>Once again he inserted the point of the jemmy to prise

-off the remainder of the side, but the heavy wood at the

-top of the piece prevented his getting a leverage. He

-withdrew the tool to find a fresh purchase, but as he did so,

-the front door bell rang—several sharp, jerky peals.

-Frantically he jammed in the jemmy, intending by sheer force

-to smash out the wood, but his position was hampered,

-and it cracked, but did not give. As he tried desperately

-for a fresh hold an urgent double knock sounded from

-below. Sweating and tugging with the jemmy he heard

-voices outside the window. And then with a resounding

-crack the panel gave, he plunged in his hand, seized the

-tracing, thrust it and the jemmy into his pocket and rushed

-out of the room.</p>

-

-<p>But as he did so he heard the front door open and

-Dangle’s voice from below: “It sounded in the house.

-Didn’t you think so?” and Susan’s: “Yes, upstairs, I

-thought.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne looked desperately round for a weapon. Near

-the head of the stairs stood a light cane chair, and this he

-seized as he dashed down. As he turned the angle of the

-stairs Dangle switched on the light in the hall, and with

-a startled oath ran forward to intercept him. With all his

-might Cheyne hurled the chair at the other’s head. Dangle

-threw up his arms to protect his face, and by the time he

-recovered himself Cheyne was in the hall, doubling round

-the newel post. Both Dangle and Susan clutched at the

-flying figure. But Cheyne, twisting like an eel, tore himself

-free and made at top speed for the back door. This he

-slammed after him, rushing as fast as he could down the

-garden. He slackened only to pull the gate to as he passed

-through it, then sped along the lane, and turning at its

-end away from Dalton Road, tore off into the night.</p>

-

-<p>These proceedings were not in accordance with the

-Plan. The intention had been that on either recovering

-the tracing or satisfying himself that it was not in the

-house, Cheyne would close the back door, and letting

-himself out by the front, would meet Joan, pull the door to

-after them, walk round the house and quietly disappear

-via the garden and lane. But the possibility of an

-unexpected flight had been recognized. It had been decided

-that in such a case the first thing would be to get rid of

-the tracing, so that in the event of capture, the fruits of

-the raid would at least be safe. Therefore, on all the routes

-away from Earlswood hiding places had been fixed on,

-from which Joan would afterwards recover it. Along the

-lane the hiding place was the back of a wall approaching

-a culvert, and over this wall Cheyne duly threw the booty

-as he rushed along.</p>

-

-<p>By this time Dangle was out on the road and running

-for all he was worth. But Cheyne had the advantage of

-him. He was lighter and an experienced athlete, and,

-except for his illness, was in better training. Moreover,

-he was more lightly clad and wore rubber shoes. Dangle,

-though Cheyne did not know it, was hampered by an

-overcoat and patent leather boots. He could not gain on

-the fugitive, and Cheyne heard his footsteps dropping farther

-and farther behind, until at last they ceased altogether.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne slacked to a walk as he wiped the perspiration

-from his forehead. So far as he was concerned he had now

-only to make his way back to town and meet Joan at her

-studio. He considered his position and concluded his best

-and safest plan would be to go on to Harrow and take

-an express for Marylebone—if he could get one.</p>

-

-<p>He duly reached Harrow, but he found there that he

-would have nearly an hour to wait for a non-stop train

-for London. He decided, however, that this would be

-better than risking a halt at Wembley Park, and he hung

-about at the end of the platform until the train came

-along. On reaching town he took a taxi to Horne Terrace

-and hurried up to No. 12. Joan had not returned!</p>

-

-<p>He waited outside her room for a considerable time,

-then coming down, began to pace the street in front of

-the house. Every moment he became more and more

-anxious. It was now half past twelve o’clock and she should

-have been back over an hour ago. What could be keeping

-her? Merciful Heavens! If anything could have happened

-to her.</p>

-

-<p>He wrote a note on a leaf of his pocketbook saying he

-would return in the morning, and going once more up to

-her flat, pushed it under the door. Then hailing a belated

-taxi, he offered the man a fancy price to drive him to

-Wembley Park.</p>

-

-<p>Some half-hour later he climbed over the wall across

-which he had thrown the tracing. A careful search showed

-that it was no longer there; moreover it revealed the print

-of a dainty shoe with a rather high heel, such as he had

-noticed Joan wearing earlier in the evening. He returned

-to the shrubs at the gap where they had waited, but there

-he could find no trace of her at all. Then he walked all

-round Earlswood, but it was shrouded in darkness. Finally,

-his taximan having refused to wait for him and all traffic

-being over for the day, he set out to walk to London, which

-he reached between three and four o’clock.</p>

-

-<p>He had some coffee at a stall and then returned to his

-hotel, but by seven he was once more at Horne Terrace.

-Eagerly he raced up the steps and knocked at No. 12.

-There was no answer.</p>

-

-<p>Suddenly a white speck below the door caught his eye,

-and stooping, he saw the note he had pushed in on the

-previous evening. Joan evidently had not yet returned.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch11">

-

-<h2>Chapter XI. <br> Otto Schulz’s Secret</h2>

-

-<p>Cheyne, faced by the disquieting fact that Joan Merrill

-had failed to reach home in spite of her expressed intention

-to return there immediately, stood motionless outside her

-door, aghast and irresolute. With a growing anxiety he

-asked himself what could have occurred to delay her. He

-knew her well enough to be satisfied that she would not

-change her mind through sudden caprice. Something had

-happened to her, and as he considered the possibilities, he

-grew more and more uneasy.</p>

-

-<p>The contingency was one which neither of them had

-foreseen, and for the moment he was at a loss as to how

-to cope with it. First, in his hot-blooded way he thought

-of buying a real pistol, returning to Earlswood, and shooting

-Blessington and Dangle unless they revealed her whereabouts.

-Then reason told him that they really might not

-know, that Joan might have met with an accident or for

-some reason have gone to friends for the night, and he

-thought of putting the matter in Speedwell’s hands. But

-he soon saw that Speedwell had not the means or the

-organization to deal adequately with the affair and his

-thoughts turned to Scotland Yard. He was loath to confess

-his own essays in illegality in such an unsympathetic <i>milieu</i>,

-but of course no hesitation was possible if Joan’s

-safety was at stake.</p>

-

-<p>Still pondering the problem, he turned and slowly

-descended the stairs. He would wait, he thought, for an

-hour or perhaps two—say until nine. If by nine o’clock

-she had neither turned up nor sent a message he would

-go to Scotland Yard, no matter what the consequences to

-himself might be.</p>

-

-<p>Thinking that he should go back to his hotel in case

-she telephoned, he strode off along the pavement. But he

-had scarcely left the doorway when he heard his name

-called from behind, and swinging round, he gazed in

-speechless amazement at the figure confronting him. It was

-James Dangle!</p>

-

-<p>For a moment they stared at one another, and then

-Cheyne saw red.</p>

-

-<p>“You infernal scoundrel!” he yelled, and sprang at the

-other’s throat. Dangle, stepping back, threw up his hands

-to parry the onslaught, while he cried earnestly:</p>

-

-<p>“Steady, Mr. Cheyne; for heaven’s sake, steady! I have

-a message for you from Miss Merrill.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne glared wrathfully, but he pulled himself together

-and released his hold.</p>

-

-<p>“Don’t speak her name, you blackguard!” he said

-thickly. “What’s your message?”</p>

-

-<p>“She is all right,” Dangle answered quickly, “but the

-rest of it will take time to tell. Let us get out of this.”</p>

-

-<p>Some passers-by, hearing the raised voices, had stopped,

-and a small crowd, eager for a row, had collected about

-the two men. Dangle seized Cheyne’s wrist and hurried

-him down the street and round the corner.</p>

-

-<p>“Let’s go to your hotel, Mr. Cheyne, or anywhere else we

-can talk,” he begged. “What I have to say will take a

-little time.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne snatched his wrist away.</p>

-

-<p>“Keep your filthy hands to yourself,” he snarled. “Where

-is Miss Merrill?”</p>

-

-<p>“I am sorry to say she has met with a slight accident,”

-Dangle replied, speaking quickly and with placatory

-gestures; “not in any way serious, only a twisted ankle. I found

-her on the road on my way back from chasing you, leaning

-up against the stone wall which runs along the lane at

-the back of Blessington’s house. She had hurt herself in

-climbing down to get the tracing which you threw over.

-I called my sister and we helped her into the house, and

-Susan bathed and bound up her ankle and fixed her up

-comfortably on the sofa. It is not really a sprain, but it

-will be painful for a day or two.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was taken aback not only by his enemy’s

-knowledge, but also by being talked to in so friendly a fashion,

-and in his relief at the news he felt his anger draining

-away.</p>

-

-<p>“You’ve got the tracing again, I suppose?” he said

-ruefully.</p>

-

-<p>Dangle smiled.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, yes, we have,” he agreed. “But I have to admit it

-was the result of two lucky chances; first, my sister’s and

-my return just when we did, and second, Miss Merrill’s

-unfortunate false step over the wall. But your scheme was

-a good one, and with ordinary luck you would have pulled

-it off.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne grunted, and Dangle, turning towards him, went

-on earnestly: “Look here, Mr. Cheyne, why should we be

-on opposite sides in this affair? I have spoken to my

-partners, and we are all agreed. You are the kind of man we

-want, and we believe we could be of benefit to one

-another. In fact, to make a long story short, I am

-authorized to lay before you a certain proposition. I believe it

-will appeal to you. It is for that purpose I should like to

-go somewhere where we could talk. If not to your hotel,

-I know a place a few hundred yards down this street

-where we could get a private room.”</p>

-

-<p>“I want to go out and see Miss Merrill.”</p>

-

-<p>“Of course you do. But Miss Merrill was asleep when I

-left and most probably will sleep for an hour or two yet,

-so there is time enough. I beg that you will first hear what

-I have to say. Then we can go out together.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, come to my hotel,” Cheyne said ungraciously,

-and the two walked along, Dangle making tentative essays

-in conversation, all of which were brought to nought by

-the uncompromising brevity of his companion’s responses.</p>

-

-<p>“You’d better come up to my bedroom,” Cheyne growled

-when at last they reached their goal. “These dratted

-servants are cleaning the public rooms.”</p>

-

-<p>In silence they sought the lift and Cheyne led the way

-to his apartment. Bolting the door, he pointed to a chair,

-stood himself with his back to the empty fireplace and

-remarked impatiently: “Well?”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle laughed lightly.</p>

-

-<p>“I see you’re not going to help me out, Mr. Cheyne,

-and I suppose I can scarcely wonder at it. Well, I’ll get

-ahead without further delay. But, as I’ve a good deal to

-say, I should suggest you sit down, and if you don’t mind,

-I’ll smoke. Try one of these Coronas; they were given to

-me, so you needn’t mind taking one. No? I wonder would

-you mind if I rang and ordered some coffee and rolls?

-I’ve not breakfasted yet and I’m hungry.”</p>

-

-<p>With a bad grace Cheyne rang the bell.</p>

-

-<p>“Coffee and rolls for two,” Dangle ordered when an

-attendant came to the door. “You will join me, won’t you?

-Even if my mission comes to nothing and we remain

-enemies, there’s no reason why we should make our

-interview more unpleasant than is necessary.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne strode up and down the room.</p>

-

-<p>“But I don’t want the confounded interview,” he

-exclaimed angrily. “For goodness’ sake get along and say

-what you have to say and clear out. I haven’t forgotten

-the <i>Enid</i>.”</p>

-

-<p>“No, that was illegal, wasn’t it? Almost as bad as

-breaking and entering, burglary and theft. But now, there’s

-no kind of sense in squabbling. Sit down and listen and

-I’ll tell you a story that will interest you in spite of

-yourself.”</p>

-

-<p>“I shouldn’t wonder,” Cheyne said with sarcasm as he

-flung himself into a chair, “but if it’s going to be more

-lies about St. John Price and the Hull succession you may

-save your breath.”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle smiled whimsically. “It was for your sake, Mr.

-Cheyne; perhaps not quite legitimate, but still done with

-the best intention. I told him that yarn—I admit, of course,

-it was a yarn—simply to make it easy for you to give up

-the letter. I knew that nothing would induce you to part

-with it if you thought it dishonorable; hence the story.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne laughed harshly.</p>

-

-<p>“And what will be the object of the new yarn?”</p>

-

-<p>“This time it won’t be a yarn. I will tell you the truth.”</p>

-

-<p>“And you expect me to believe it?”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle leaned forward and spoke more earnestly.</p>

-

-<p>“You will believe it, not, I’m afraid, because I tell it,

-but because it is capable of being checked. A great portion

-of it can be substantiated by inquiries at the Admiralty and

-elsewhere, and your reason will satisfy you as to the

-remainder.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, go on and get it over anyway.”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle once more smilingly shrugged his shoulders, lit

-his cigar and began:</p>

-

-<p>“My tale commences as before with our mutual friend,

-Arnold Price, and once again it goes back to the year 1917.

-In February of ’17 Arnold Price was, as you know, third

-mate of the <i>Maurania</i>, and I was on the same ship in

-command of her bow gun—she had guns mounted fore

-and aft. I hadn’t known Price before, but we became

-friends—not close friends, but as intimate as most men

-who are cooped up together for months on the same ship.</p>

-

-<p>“In February ’17, as we were coming into the Bay on

-our way from South Africa, we sighted a submarine. I

-needn’t worry you with the details of what followed. It’s

-enough to say that we tried to escape, and failing, showed

-fight. As it chanced, by a stroke of the devil’s own luck we

-pumped a shell into her just abaft the conning tower after

-she rose and before she could get her gun trained on us.

-She heeled over and began to sink by the stern. I confess

-that I’d have watched those devils drown, as they had

-done many of our poor fellows, but the old man wasn’t that

-way inclined and he called for volunteers to get out one of

-the boats. Price was the first man to offer, and they got a

-boat lowered away and pulled for the submarine. She

-disappeared before they could get up to her, and we could see

-her crew clinging to wreckage. The men in the boat

-pulled all out to get there before they were washed away,

-for there was a bit of a sea running, the end of a

-southwester that had just blown itself out. Well, some of the crew

-held on and they got them into the boat; others couldn’t

-stick it and were lost. The captain was there clinging on to

-a lifebelt, but just as the boat came up he let go and was

-sinking, when Arnold Price jumped overboard and caught

-him and supported him until they got a rope round him

-and pulled him aboard. I didn’t see that myself, but I

-heard about it afterwards. The captain’s name was Otto

-Schulz, and when they got him aboard the <i>Maurania</i> and

-fixed up in bed they found that he had had a knock on the

-head that would probably do for him. But all the same

-Price had saved his life, and what was more, had saved it

-at the risk of his own. That is the first point in my story.”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle paused and drew at his cigar. As he had foretold,

-Cheyne was already interested. The story appealed to him,

-for he knew that for once he was not being told a yarn. He

-had already heard of the rescue; in fact he had himself

-congratulated Price on his brave deed. He remembered a

-curious point about it. A day or two later Price had been hit

-in an encounter with another U-boat, and he and Schulz

-had been sent to the same hospital—somewhere on the

-French coast. There Schulz had died, and from there Price

-had sent the mysterious tracing which had been the cause

-of all these unwonted activities.</p>

-

-<p>“We crossed the Bay without further adventures,”

-Dangle resumed, “but as we approached the Channel we

-sighted another U-boat. We exchanged a few shots

-without doing a great deal of harm on either side, and when a

-destroyer came on the scene Brother Fritz submerged and

-disappeared. But as luck would have it one of his shells

-burst over our fo’c’sle. Both Price and I were there, I at my

-gun and he on some job of his own, and both of us got

-knocked out. Price had a scalp wound and I a bit of shell

-in my thigh; neither very serious, but both stretcher cases.</p>

-

-<p>“We called at Brest that night and next morning they

-sent us ashore to hospital. Schulz was sent with us. By

-what seems now a strange coincidence, but what was, I

-suppose, ordinary and natural enough, we were put into

-adjoining beds in the same ward. That is the second point

-of my story.”</p>

-

-<p>Again Dangle paused and again Cheyne reflected that

-so far he was being told the truth. He wondered with a

-growing thrill if he was really going to learn the contents

-of Price’s letter to himself and the meaning of the mysterious

-tracing, as well as the circumstances under which it was

-sent. He nodded to show he had grasped the point and

-Dangle went on:</p>

-

-<p>“Price and I soon began to improve, but the blow on

-Schulz’s head turned out pretty bad and he grew weaker

-and weaker. At last he got to know he was going to peg

-out, as you will see from what I overheard.</p>

-

-<p>“I was lying that night in a sort of waking dream, half

-asleep and half conscious of my surroundings. The ward

-was very still. There were six of us there and I thought all

-the others were asleep. The night nurse had just had a look

-round and had gone out again. She had left the gas lit,

-but turned very low. Suddenly I heard Schulz, who was in

-the next bed, calling Price. He called him two or three times

-and then Price answered. ‘Look here, Price,’ Schulz said,

-‘are those other blighters asleep?’ He talked as good

-English as you or me. Price said ‘Yes,’ and then Schulz

-went on to talk.</p>

-

-<p>“Now, I don’t know if you’ll believe me, Mr. Cheyne,

-but though as a matter of fact, I overheard everything he

-said, I didn’t mean to listen. I was so tired and dreamy

-that I just didn’t think of telling him I was awake, and

-indeed if I had thought of it, I don’t believe I should have

-had the energy to move. You know how it is when you’re

-not well. Then when I did hear it was too late. I just

-couldn’t tell him that I had learned his secret.”</p>

-

-<p>As Dangle spoke there was a knock at the door and a

-waiter arrived with coffee. Dangle paid him, and without

-further comment poured some out for Cheyne and handed

-it across. Cheyne was by this time so interested in the tale

-that his resentment was forgotten, and he took the cup

-with a word of thanks.</p>

-

-<p>“Go on,” he added. “I’m interested in your story, as you

-said I should be.”</p>

-

-<p>“I thought you would,” Dangle answered with his ready

-smile. “Well, Schulz began by telling Price that he knew

-he wasn’t going to live. Then he went on to say that he

-felt it cruelly hard luck, because he had accidentally come

-on a secret which would have brought him an immense

-fortune. Now he couldn’t use it. He had been going to let it die

-with him, but he remembered what he owed to Price and

-had decided to hand over the information to him. ‘But,’

-he said, ‘there is one condition. You must first swear to me

-on your sacred honor that if you make anything out of it

-you will, after the war, try to find my wife and hand her

-one-eighth of what you get. I say one-eighth, because if you

-get any profits at all they will be so enormous that

-one-eighth will be riches to Magda.’</p>

-

-<p>“I could see that Price thought he was delirious, but to

-quiet him he swore the oath and then Schulz told of his

-discovery. He said that before he had been given charge of

-the U-boat he had served for over six months in the

-Submarine Research Department, and that there, while

-carrying out certain experiments, he had had a lucky accident.

-Some substances which he had fused in an electric furnace

-had suddenly partially vaporized and, as it were, boiled

-over. The white-hot mass poured over the copper terminals

-of his furnace, with the result that the extremely high

-voltage current short-circuited with a corona of brilliant

-sparks. He described the affair in greater detail than this,

-but I am not an electrician and I didn’t follow the

-technicalities. But they don’t matter, it was the result that was

-important. When the current was cut off and the mass

-cooled he started in to clean up. He chipped the stuff off

-the terminals, and he found that the copper had fused and

-run. And then he made his great discovery: the copper had

-hardened. He tested it and found it was, roughly speaking,

-as hard as high carbon steel and with an even greater

-tensile strength! Unintentionally he had made a new and

-unknown alloy. Schulz knew that the ancients were able to

-harden copper and he supposed that he had found the lost

-art.</p>

-

-<p>“At once he saw the extraordinary value of this

-discovery. If you could use copper instead of steel you would

-revolutionize the construction of electrical machinery;

-copper conduits could be lighter and be self-supporting—in

-scores of ways the new metal would be worth nearly its

-weight in gold. He could not work at the thing by

-himself, so he told his immediate superior, who happened also

-to be a close personal friend. The two tried some more

-experiments, and to make a long story short, they

-discovered that if certain percentages of certain minerals were

-added to the copper during smelting, it became hard. The

-minerals were cheap and plentiful, so that practically the

-new metal could be produced at the old price. This meant,

-for example, that they could make parts of machines of the

-new alloy, which would weigh—and therefore cost—only

-about one-quarter of those of ordinary copper. If they sold

-these at half or even three-quarters of the old price they

-would make an extremely handsome profit. But their idea

-was not to do this, but to sell their discovery to Krupps or

-some other great firm who, they believed, would pay a

-million sterling or more for it.</p>

-

-<p>“But they knew that they could not do anything with it

-until after the war unless they were prepared to hand it

-over to the military authorities for whatever these chose to

-pay, which would probably be nothing. While they were

-still considering their course of action both were ordered

-back to sea. Schulz’s friend was killed almost immediately,

-Schulz being then the only living possessor of the secret.

-Panic-stricken lest he too should be killed, he prepared a

-cipher giving the whole process, and this he sealed in a

-watertight cover and wore it continuously beneath his

-clothes. He now proposed to give it to Price, partly in

-return for what Price had done, and partly in the hope of

-his wife eventually benefiting. I saw him hand over a small

-package, and then I got the disappointment of my life, and

-so, I’m sure, did Price. Schulz was obviously growing

-weaker and he now spoke with great difficulty. But he

-made a final effort to go on; ‘The key to the cipher—’ he

-began and just then the sister came back into the room.

-Schulz stopped, but before she left he got a weak turn and

-fell back unconscious. He never spoke again and next day

-he was dead.”</p>

-

-<p>In his absorption Dangle had let his cigar go out, and now

-he paused to relight it. Cheyne sat, devouring the story

-with eager interest. He did not for a moment doubt it. It

-covered too accurately the facts which he already knew. He

-was keenly curious to hear its end: whether Dangle,

-having obtained the cipher, had read it, and what was the

-nature of the proposal the man was about to make.</p>

-

-<p>“Next day I approached Price on the matter. I said I had

-involuntarily overheard what Schulz had told him, and as

-the affair was so huge, asked him to take me into it with

-him. As a matter of fact I thought then, and think now,

-that the job was too big for one person to handle.

-However, Price cut up rough about it: wouldn’t have me as a

-partner on any terms and accused me of eavesdropping. I

-told him to go to hell and we parted on bad terms. I found

-out—I may as well admit by looking through the letters in

-his cabin while he was on duty—that he had sent the

-packet to you, and when I had made inquiries about you I

-was able to guess his motive. You, humanly speaking, were

-a safe life; you were invalided out of the service. He would

-send the secret to you to keep for him till after the war or

-to use as you thought best if he were knocked out.</p>

-

-<p>“You will understand, Mr. Cheyne, that though keenly

-interested in the whole affair, while I was in the service I

-couldn’t make any move in it. But directly I was demobbed

-I began to make inquiries. I found you were living at

-Dartmouth, and it was evident from your way of life that

-you hadn’t exploited the secret. Then I found out about

-Price, learned that he was on one of the Bombay-Basrah

-troopships and that though he had applied to be demobbed

-there were official delays. The next thing I heard about him

-was that he had disappeared. You knew that?” Dangle

-seemed to have been expecting the other to show surprise.</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, I knew it. I learned it at the same time that I

-learned St. John Price was a myth.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, it’s quite true. He left his ship at Bombay on a

-few days’ leave to pay a visit up country and was never

-heard of again. Presumably he is dead. And now, Mr.

-Cheyne,” Dangle shifted uneasily in his seat and glanced

-deprecatingly at the other, “now I come to a part of my

-story which I should be glad to omit. But I must tell you

-everything so that you may be in a position to decide on

-the proposal I’m going to make. At the time I was

-financially in very low water. My job had not been kept

-for me and I couldn’t get another. I was pretty badly hit,

-and worse still, I had taken to gambling in the desperate

-hope of getting some ready money. One night I had been

-treated on an empty stomach, and being upset from the

-drink, I plunged more than all my remaining capital. I

-lost, and then I was down and out, owing fairly large sums

-to two men—Blessington and Sime. In despair I told them

-of Schulz’s discovery. They leaped at it and said that if

-my sister Susan and myself would join in an attempt to

-get hold of the secret they would not only cancel the debts,

-but would offer us a square deal and share and share alike.

-Well, I shouldn’t have agreed, of course, but—well, I did.

-It was naturally the pressure they brought to bear that

-made me do it, but it was also partly due to my resentment

-at the way Price had turned me down. We thought that

-as far as you were concerned, you were probably expecting

-nothing and would therefore suffer no disappointment,

-and we agreed unanimously to send both Frau Schulz and

-Mrs. Price equal shares with ourselves. I don’t pretend any

-of us were right, Mr. Cheyne, but that’s what happened.”</p>

-

-<p>“I can understand it very well,” said Cheyne. He was

-always generous to a fault and this frank avowal had

-mollified his wrath. “But you haven’t told me if you read

-the cipher.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’m coming to that,” Dangle returned. “We laid our

-plans for getting hold of the package and with some forged

-references Susan got a job as servant in your house. She

-told us that so far as she could see the package would

-either be about your person or in your safe, and as she

-couldn’t ascertain the point we laid our plans to find out.

-As you know, they drew blank, and then we devised the

-plant on the <i>Enid</i>. That worked, but you nearly turned the

-tables on us in Hopefield Avenue. How you traced us I

-can’t imagine, and I hope later on you’ll tell me. That

-night we didn’t know whether we had killed you or not.

-We didn’t want to and hadn’t meant to, but we might

-easily have done so. When your body was not found in the

-morning we became panicky and cleared out. Then there

-came your attempt of last night. But for an accident it

-would have succeeded. Now we have come to the

-conclusion that you are too clever and determined to have

-you for an enemy. We are accordingly faced with an

-alternative. Either we must murder you and Miss Merrill

-or we must get you on to our side. The first we all shrink

-from, though”—and here Dangle’s eye showed a nasty

-gleam—“if it was that or our failure we shouldn’t hesitate,

-but the second is what we should all prefer. In short, Mr.

-Cheyne, will you and Miss Merrill join us in trading

-Schulz’s secret: all, including Frau Schulz and Mrs. Price,

-to share equally? We think that’s a fair offer and we

-extremely hope you won’t turn us down.”</p>

-

-<p>“You haven’t told me if you’ve read the cipher.”</p>

-

-<p>“I forgot that. I’m sorry to say that we have not, and

-that’s another reason we want you and Miss Merrill. We

-want two fresh brains on it. But the covering letter shows

-that the secret is in the cipher and it must be possible to

-read it.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne did not reply as he sat considering this unexpected

-move. If he were satisfied as to Arnold Price’s death and

-if the quartet had been trustworthy he would not have

-hesitated. Frau Schulz would get her eighth and Mrs.

-Price would get a quite unexpected windfall. Moreover,

-the people who worked the invention were entitled to

-some return for their trouble. No, the proposal was

-reasonable; in fact it was too reasonable. It was more

-reasonable than he would have expected from people who had

-already acted as these four had done. He found it

-impossible to trust in their <i>bona fides</i>. He would like to have Joan

-Merrill’s views before replying. He therefore temporized.</p>

-

-<p>“Your proposal is certainly attractive,” he said, “but

-before coming to a conclusion Miss Merrill must be

-consulted. She would be a party to it, same as myself. Suppose

-we go out and see her now, and then I will give you my

-answer.”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle’s face took on a graver expression.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” he answered slowly.

-“You see, there is more in it than I have told you, though

-I hoped to avoid this side of it. Please put yourself in our

-place. I come to you with this offer. I don’t know whether

-you will accept it or turn it down. If you turn it down

-there is nothing to prevent you, with the information I

-have just given you, going to the police and claiming the

-whole secret and prosecuting us. Whether you would be

-likely to win your case wouldn’t matter. You might, and

-that would be too big a risk for us. We have therefore in

-self-defense had to take precautions. And the precautions

-we have taken are these. Earlswood has been evacuated.

-Just as we left Hopefield Avenue so we have left Dalton

-Road. Our party—and Miss Merrill”—he slightly stressed

-the “and” and in his voice Cheyne sensed a veiled

-threat—“have taken up their quarters at another house some

-distance from town. In self-defense we must have your

-acceptance <em>before</em> further negotiations take place. You must see

-this for yourself.”</p>

-

-<p>“And if I refuse?”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle lowered his voice and spoke very earnestly.</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Cheyne, if you refuse you will never see Miss

-Merrill alive!”</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch12">

-

-<h2>Chapter XII. <br> In the Enemy’s Lair</h2>

-

-<p>With some difficulty Cheyne overcame a sudden urge to

-leap at his companion’s throat.</p>

-

-<p>“You infernal scoundrel!” he cried thickly. “Injure a

-hair of Miss Merrill’s head and you and your confounded

-friends will hang! I’ll go to Scotland Yard. Do you think

-I mind about myself?”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle gave a cheery smile.</p>

-

-<p>“Right, Mr. Cheyne,” he answered Lid “by all

-means. Just do go to Scotland Yard and make your

-complaint. And what are you going to tell them? That Miss

-Merrill is in the hands of a dangerous gang of ruffians,

-and must be rescued immediately? And the present

-address of this gang is—?” He looked quizzically at the

-other. “I don’t think so. I’m afraid Scotland Yard would

-be too slow for you. You see, my friends are waiting for a

-telephone message from me. If that is not received or if it is

-unsatisfactory—well, don’t let us discuss unpleasant topics,

-but Miss Merrill will be very, very sorry.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne choked with rage, but for the moment he found

-himself unable to reply. That he was being bluffed he had

-no doubt, and in any other circumstances he would have

-taken a stronger line. But where Joan Merrill was

-concerned he could run no risks. It was evident that she really

-was in the power of the gang. Dangle could not possibly

-have known about the throwing of the tracing over the

-wall unless he really had found her as he had described.</p>

-

-<p>A very short cogitation convinced Cheyne that these

-people had him in their toils. Application to Scotland

-Yard would be useless. No doubt the police could find the

-conspirators, but they could not find them in time. So far

-as retaliation or a constructive policy was concerned, he

-saw that he was down and out.</p>

-

-<p>His thoughts turned to the proposal Dangle had made

-him. It was certainly fair—too fair, he still thought—but if

-it was a genuine offer, he need have no qualms about

-accepting it. Frau Schulz, Mrs. Price, Joan and himself

-were all promised shares of the profits. A clause could be

-put in covering Price, if he afterwards turned out to be

-alive. The gang might be a crowd of sharpers and thieves—so

-at least the melancholy Speedwell had said—but, as

-Cheyne came to look at it, they had not really broken the

-law to a much greater extent than he had himself. His case

-to the authorities—suppose he were to lay it before

-them—would not be so overwhelmingly clear. Something could

-be said for—or rather against—both sides.</p>

-

-<p>If he had to give way he might as well give way with a

-good grace. He therefore choked down his rage, and

-turning to Dangle, said quietly:</p>

-

-<p>“I see you’ve won this trick. I’ll accept your offer and go

-with you.”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle, evidently delighted, sprang to his feet.</p>

-

-<p>“Splendid, Mr. Cheyne,” he cried warmly, holding out

-his hand. “Shake hands, won’t you? You’ll not repent your

-action, I promise you.”</p>

-

-<p>But this was too much for Cheyne.</p>

-

-<p>“No,” he declared. “Not yet. You haven’t satisfied me

-of your <i>bona fides</i>. I’m sorry, but you have only yourselves

-to thank. When I find Miss Merrill at liberty and see

-Schulz’s cipher, I’ll be satisfied, and then I will join with

-you and give you all the help I can.”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle seemed rather dashed, but he laughed shortly

-as he answered: “I suppose we deserve that after all. But

-you will soon be convinced. There is just a formality to be

-gone through before we start. Though you may not believe

-my word, we believe yours, and we have agreed that all

-that we want before taking you further into our

-confidence, is that you swear an oath of loyalty to us. You won’t

-object to that, I presume?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne hesitated, then he said:</p>

-

-<p>“I swear on my sacred honor that I will loyally abide

-by the spirit of the agreement which you have outlined in

-so far as you and your friends act loyally to me and to

-Miss Merrill, and to that extent only.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s reasonable, and good enough,” Dangle

-commented. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and phone to the

-others. You will understand,” he explained on his return,

-“that my friends are some distance away from Wembley,

-and it will therefore take them a little time to get in. If

-they start now they will be there as soon as we are.”</p>

-

-<p>It was getting towards ten o’clock when Cheyne and

-Dangle turned into the gateway of Earlswood. A yellow car

-stood at the footpath, at sight of which Dangle exclaimed:

-“See, they’ve arrived.” His ring brought Blessington to the

-door, and the latter greeted Cheyne apologetically, but

-with the same charm of manner that he had displayed in

-the Edgecombe Hotel at Plymouth.</p>

-

-<p>“I do hope, Mr. Cheyne,” he declared, “that even after

-all that has passed, we may yet be friends. We admire the

-way you have fought your corner, and we feel that what we

-both up to the present have failed to do may well be

-accomplished if we unite our forces. Come in and see if

-you can make friends with Sime.”</p>

-

-<p>“I came to see Miss Merrill,” Cheyne answered shortly.

-“If Miss Merrill is not produced and allowed to go

-without restraint our agreement is <i>non est</i>.”</p>

-

-<p>“Naturally,” Blessington returned smoothly. “We

-understand that that is a <i>sine qua non</i>. And so Miss Merrill will

-be produced. She is not here; she is at our house in the

-country in charge of Miss Dangle, and that for two

-reasons. The first is this. She met with, as doubtless you know,

-a trifling accident last night, and her ankle being a little

-painful, she was kept awake for some time. This morning

-when we left she was still asleep. We did not therefore

-disturb her. That you will appreciate, Mr. Cheyne, and the

-other reason you will appreciate equally. We had to

-satisfy ourselves by a personal interview that you really meant

-to give us a square deal.” He raised his hand as Cheyne

-would have spoken. “There’s nothing in that to which you

-need take exception. It is an ordinary business

-precaution—nothing more or less.”</p>

-

-<p>“And when will Miss Merrill be set at liberty?”</p>

-

-<p>“While I don’t admit the justice of the phrase, I may

-say that as soon as we have all mutually pledged ourselves

-to play the game I will take the car back to the other

-house, and when Miss Merrill has taken the same oath

-will drive her to her studio. Perhaps you would write her

-a note that you have sworn it, as she mightn’t believe me.

-There are a few preliminaries to be arranged with Dangle

-and Sime can fix up with you. If you are at the studio at

-midday you will be in time to welcome Miss Merrill.”</p>

-

-<p>This did not meet with Cheyne’s approval. He wished

-to go himself to the mysterious house with Blessington,

-but the latter politely but firmly conveyed to him that he

-had not yet irrevocably committed himself on their side,

-and until he had done so they could not give away their

-best chance of escape should the police become interested

-in their movements. Cheyne argued with some bitterness,

-but the other side held the trumps, and he was obliged to

-give way.</p>

-

-<p>This point settled, nothing could have exceeded the

-easy friendliness of the trio. If Arnold Price were alive he

-would share equally with the rest. Would Mr. Cheyne

-come to the study while the formalities were got through?

-Did he consider this oath—typewritten—would meet the

-case? Well, they would take it first, binding themselves

-individually to each other and to him. Each of the three

-swore loyalty to the remaining quintet, the oaths of Joan

-Merrill and Susan being assumed for the moment. Then

-Cheyne swore and they all solemnly shook hands.</p>

-

-<p>“Now that’s done, Mr. Cheyne, we’ll prove our confidence

-in you by showing you the cipher. But first perhaps you

-would write to Miss Merrill. Also if any point is not quite

-clear to you please do not hesitate to question us.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was by no means enamored of the way things

-had turned out. He had been forced into an association

-with men with whom he had little in common and whom

-he did not trust. Had it not been for the trump card they

-held in the person of Joan Merrill nothing would have

-induced him to throw in his lot with them. But now,

-contingent on their good faith to him, he had pledged his

-word, and though he was not sure how far an enforced

-pledge was binding, he felt that as long as they kept their

-part of the bargain, he must keep his. He therefore wrote

-his letter, and then turning to Blessington, answered him

-civilly:</p>

-

-<p>“There is one thing I should like to know; I have

-thought about it many times. How did you drug me in

-that hotel in Plymouth without my knowledge and without

-leaving any traces in the food?”</p>

-

-<p>Blessington smiled.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll tell you that with pleasure, Mr. Cheyne,” he

-answered readily, “but I confess I am surprised that a man

-of your acumen was puzzled by it. It depended upon

-prearrangement, and given that, was perfectly simple. I

-provided myself with the drug—if you don’t mind I won’t

-say how, as I might get someone else into trouble—but I

-got a small phial of it. I also took two other small bottles,

-one full of clean water, the other empty, together with a

-small cloth. Also I took my Extra Special Flask. Sime, like

-a good fellow, get my flask out of the drawer of my

-wrecked escritoire.” He smiled ruefully at Cheyne. “Then

-I prepared for our lunch: the private room, the menu and

-all complete. I told them at the hotel we had some

-business to arrange, and that we didn’t want to be disturbed

-after lunch. You know, of course, that I got all details of

-your movements from Miss Dangle?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, I understand that.”</p>

-

-<p>As Cheyne spoke Sime re-entered the room, putting

-down on the table the flask which had figured in the scene

-at the hotel. Blessington handed it to Cheyne.</p>

-

-<p>“Examine that flask, Mr. Cheyne,” he invited. “Do you

-see anything remarkable about it?”</p>

-

-<p>It seemed an ordinary silver pocket flask, square and

-flat, and with a screw-down silver stopper. It was chased

-on both sides with a plain but rather pleasing design, and

-the base was flat so that it would stand securely. But

-Cheyne could see nothing about it in any way unusual.</p>

-

-<p>“Open it,” Blessington suggested.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne unscrewed the stopper and looked down the

-neck, but except that there was a curious projection at one

-side, which reduced the passage down to half the usual

-size, it seemed as other flasks. Blessington laughed.</p>

-

-<figure>

-  <img src="images/flasks.png"

-       alt="Two diagrams of a flask, divided down the middle and

-containing liquids in both parts. In the second diagram, the flask is

-tipped, and liquid pours from the right half only.">

-</figure>

-

-<p>“Look here,” he said, and seizing a scrap of paper, he

-drew the two sketches which I reproduce. “The flask is

-divided down the middle by a diaphragm <i>C</i>, so as to form

-two chambers, <i>A</i> and <i>B</i>. In these chambers are put two

-liquids, of which one is drugged and the other isn’t. <i>E</i>

-and <i>F</i> are two half diaphragms, and <i>D</i> is a very light and

-delicately fitted flap valve which will close the passage to

-either chamber. When you invert the flask, the liquid in

-the upper or <i>B</i> chamber runs out along diaphragm <i>C</i>,

-and its weight turns over valve D so that the passage to <i>A</i>

-chamber is closed. The liquid from <i>B</i> then pours out in

-the ordinary way. The liquid in <i>A</i>, however, cannot escape,

-because it is caught by the diaphragm <i>F</i>. If you want to

-pour out the liquid from <i>A</i> you simply turn the flask upside

-down, when the conditions as to the two liquids are

-reversed. You probably didn’t notice that I used the flask

-in this way at our lunch. You may remember that I poured

-out your liqueur first—it was drugged, of course. Then I

-got a convenient fit of coughing. That gave me an excuse

-to set down the flask and pick it up again, but when I

-picked it up I was careful to do so by the other side, so

-that undrugged liqueur poured into my own cup. I drank

-my coffee at once to reassure you. Simple, wasn’t it?”</p>

-

-<p>“More than simple,” Cheyne answered with unwilling

-admiration in his tone. “A dangerous toy, but I admit,

-deuced ingenious. But I don’t follow even yet. That would

-have left the drugged remains in the cup.”</p>

-

-<p>“Quite so, but you have forgotten my other two bottles

-and my cloth. I poured the dregs from your cup into the

-empty bottle, washed the cup with water from the other,

-wiped it with my cloth, poured out another cup of coffee

-and drank it, leaving harmless grounds for any inquisitive

-analyst to experiment with.”</p>

-

-<p>“By Jove!” said Cheyne, then adding regretfully: “If we

-had only tried the handle of the cup for fingerprints!”</p>

-

-<p>“I put gloves on after you went over.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne smiled.</p>

-

-<p>“You deserved to succeed,” he admitted ruefully.</p>

-

-<p>“I succeeded in drugging you,” Blessington answered,

-“but I did not succeed in getting what I wanted. Now,

-Mr. Cheyne, you would like to see the tracing. Show it to

-him, Dangle, while I go back to the other house for Miss

-Merrill.”</p>

-

-<p>Dangle left the room, returning presently with the

-blue-gray sheet which had been the pivot upon which all the

-strange adventures of the little company had turned.

-Cheyne saw at a glance it was the tracing which he had

-secured in the upper room in the house in Hopefield

-Avenue. There in the corners were the holes made by the

-drawing-pins which had fixed it to the door while it was

-being photographed. There were the irregularly spaced

-circles, with their letters and numbers, and there, written

-clockwise in a large circle, the words: “England expects

-every man to do his duty.” Cheyne gazed at it with interest,

-while Dangle and Sime sat watching him. What on earth

-could it mean? He pondered awhile, then turned to his

-companions.</p>

-

-<p>“Have you not been able to read any of it?” he queried.</p>

-

-<p>Dangle shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“Not so much as a single word—not a letter even!” he

-declared. “I tell you, Mr. Cheyne, it’s a regular sneezer!

-I wouldn’t like to say how many hours we’ve spent—all of

-us—working at it. And I don’t think there’s a book on

-ciphers in the whole of London that we haven’t read. And

-not a glimmer of light from any of them! Blessington had

-a theory that each of these circles was intended to

-represent one or more atoms, according to the number it

-contained, and that certain circles could be grouped to make

-molecules of the various substances that were to be mixed

-with the copper. I never could quite understand his idea,

-but in any case all our work hasn’t helped us to find them.

-The truth is that we’re stale. We want a fresh brain on it,

-and particularly a woman’s brain. Sometimes a woman’s

-intuition will lead her to a lucky guess. We hope it may

-in this case.”</p>

-

-<p>He paused, then went on again: “Another thing we tried

-was this. Suppose that by some system of numerical

-substitution each of these numbers represents a letter. Then

-groups of these letters together with the letters already in

-the circles should represent words. Of course it is difficult

-to group them, though we tried again and again. At first

-the idea seemed promising, but we could make nothing of

-it. We couldn’t find any system either of substitution or of

-grouping which would give a glimmering of sense. No,

-we’re up against it and no mistake, and when we think of

-the issues involved we go nearly mad from exasperation.

-Take the thing, Mr. Cheyne, and see what you and Miss

-Merrill can do. That is the original, but I have made a

-tracing of it, so that we can continue our work

-simultaneously.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne felt himself extraordinarily thrilled by this

-recital, and the more he examined the mysterious

-markings on the sheet the more interested he grew. He had

-always had a <i>penchant</i> for puzzles, and ciphers appealed

-to him as being perhaps the most alluring kind of puzzles

-extant. Particularly did this cipher attract him because of

-the circumstances under which it had been brought to his

-notice. He longed to get to grips with it, and he looked

-forward with keen delight to a long afternoon and evening

-over it with Joan Merrill, whose interest in it would, he

-felt sure, be no whit less than his own.</p>

-

-<p>Certainly, he thought, his former enemies had made a

-good beginning. So far they were playing the game, and he

-began to wonder if he had not to some extent misjudged

-them, and if the evil characters given them by the gloomy

-Speedwell were not tinged by that despondent individual’s

-jaundiced outlook on life in general.</p>

-

-<p>Dangle had left the room, and he now returned with a

-bottle of whisky and a box of cigars.</p>

-

-<p>“A drink and a cigar to cement our alliance, Mr.

-Cheyne,” he proposed, “and then I think our business will

-be done.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne hesitated, while a vision of the private room in

-the Edgecombe Hotel rose in his memory. Dangle read his

-thoughts, for he smiled and went on:</p>

-

-<p>“I see you don’t quite trust us yet, and I don’t know that

-I can blame you. But we really are all right this time.

-Examine these tumblers and then pour out the stuff

-yourself, and we’ll drink ours first. We must get you convinced

-of our goodwill.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne hesitated, but Dangle insisting, he demonstrated

-to his satisfaction that his companions drank the same

-mixture as himself. Then Dangle opened the cigar box.</p>

-

-<p>“These are specially good, though I say it myself. The

-box was given to Blessington by a rich West Indian

-planter. We only smoke them on state occasions, such as the

-present. Won’t you take one?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne felt it would be churlish to refuse, and soon the

-three were puffing such tobacco as Cheyne at all events had

-seldom before smoked. Sime then excused himself, explaining

-that though business might be neglected it could not be

-entirely ignored, and Cheyne, thereupon taking the hint,

-said that he too must be off.</p>

-

-<p>“Tomorrow we shall be kept late in town,” Dangle

-explained, as they stood on the doorstep, “but the next

-evening we shall be here. Will you and Miss Merrill come

-down and report progress, and let us have a council of

-war?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne agreed and was turning away, when Dangle

-made a sudden gesture.</p>

-

-<p>“By George! I was forgetting,” he cried. “Wait a

-second, Mr. Cheyne.”</p>

-

-<p>He disappeared back into the house, returning a

-moment later with a small purse, which he handed to

-Cheyne.</p>

-

-<p>“Do you happen to know if that is Miss Merrill’s?” he

-inquired. “It was found beside the chair in which we

-placed her last night when we carried her in.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne recognized the article at once. He had

-frequently seen Joan use it.</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, it’s hers,” he answered, to which Dangle replied

-asking if he would take it for her.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne slipped the purse into his pocket, and next

-moment he was walking along Dalton Road towards the

-station, free, well, and with the tracing in his pocket. Until

-that moment, in the inner recesses of his consciousness

-doubt of the <i>bona fides</i> of the trio had lingered. Until

-then the fear that he was to be the victim of some

-plausible trick had dwelt in his heart. But now at last he

-was convinced. Had the men desired to harm him they

-had had a perfect opportunity. He had been for the last

-hour entirely in their power. No one knew where he had

-gone, and they could with the greatest ease have

-murdered him, and either hidden his body about the house or

-garden or removed it in the car during the night. Yes, this

-time he believed their story. It was eminently reasonable,

-and as a matter of fact, it had been pretty well proved by

-their actions, as well as by the facts that he had learned

-at the Admiralty and elsewhere. They were at a standstill

-because they couldn’t read the cipher, and they really did

-want, as they said, the help of his and Joan’s fresh brains.

-From their point of view they had done a wise thing in

-thus approaching him—indeed, a masterly thing. Cheyne

-was not conceited and he did not consider his own mental

-powers phenomenal, but he knew he was good at puzzles,

-and at the very least, he and Joan were of average

-intelligence. Moreover, they were the only other persons who

-knew of the cipher, and it was the soundest strategy to turn

-their antagonism into cooperation.</p>

-

-<p>He reached North Wembley to find a train about to start

-for Town, and some half hour later he was walking up

-the platform at Euston. He looked at his watch. It was

-barely eleven. An hour would elapse before Joan would

-reach her rooms, and that meant that he had more than

-half an hour to while away before going to meet her. It

-occurred to him that in his excitement he had forgotten

-to breakfast, and though he was not hungry, he thought

-another cup of coffee would not be unacceptable.

-Moreover, he could at the same time have a look over the

-cipher. He therefore went to the refreshment room, gave

-his order, and sat down at a table in a secluded corner.

-Then drawing the mysterious sheet from his pocket, he

-began to examine it.</p>

-

-<p>As he leaned forward over his coffee he felt Joan’s purse

-in his pocket, and suddenly fearful lest in his eagerness to

-tell her his experiences he should forget to give it to her,

-he took it out and laid it on the table, intending to carry

-it in his hand until he met her. Then he returned to his

-study of the tracing.</p>

-

-<p>There are those who tell us that in this world there are

-no trifles: that every event, however unimportant it may

-appear, is preordained and weighty as every other. On this

-bright spring morning in the first class refreshment room

-at Euston, Cheyne was to meet with a demonstration of

-the truth of this assertion which left him marveling and

-humbly thankful. For there took place what seemed to be

-a trifling thing, and yet that trifle proved to be the most

-important event that had ever taken place, or was to take

-place, in his life.</p>

-

-<p>When he took his first sip of coffee he found that he

-had forgotten to put sugar in it, and when he looked at the

-sugar bowl he saw that by the merest chance it was empty.

-An empty sugar bowl. A trifle that, if ever there was one!

-And yet nothing of more supreme moment had ever

-happened to Cheyne than the finding of that empty bowl on

-his table at that moment.</p>

-

-<p>The sugar bowl, then, being empty, he picked it up with

-his free hand and carried it across to the counter to ask

-the barmaid to fill it. Scarcely had he done so when there

-came from behind him an appalling explosion. There was

-a reverberating crash mingled with the tinkle of falling

-glass, while a sharp blast of air swept past him, laden with

-the pungent smell of some burned chemical. He wheeled

-round, the shrill screams of the barmaids in his ears, to see

-the corner of the room where he had been sitting, in

-complete wreckage. Through a fog of smoke and dust he saw

-that his table and chair were nonexistent, neighboring

-tables and chairs were overturned, the window was gone,

-hat-racks, pictures, wall advertisements were heaped in

-broken and torn confusion, while over all was spread a

-coat of plaster which had been torn from the wall. On the

-floor lay a man who had been seated at an adjoining table,

-the only other occupant of that part of the room.</p>

-

-<p>For a moment no one moved, and then there came a rush

-of feet from without, and a number of persons burst into

-the room. Porters, ticket collectors, a guard, and several

-members of the public came crowding in, staring with

-round eyes and open mouths at the debris. Eager hands

-helped to raise the prostrate man, who appeared to be more

-or less seriously injured, while hurried questions were

-bandied from lip to lip.</p>

-

-<p>It did not need the barmaid’s half hysterical cry: “Why,

-it was your purse; I saw it go,” to make clear to Cheyne

-what had happened, and as he grasped the situation his

-heart melted within him and a great fear took possession

-of his mind. Once again these dastardly scoundrels had

-hoaxed him! Their oaths, their protestations of friendship,

-their talk of an alliance—all were a sham! They were out

-to murder him. The purse they had evidently stolen from

-Joan, filling it with explosives, with some time

-agent—probably chemical—to make it go off at the proper

-moment. They had given it to him under conditions which

-made it a practical certainty that at that moment it would

-be in his pocket, when he would be blown to pieces

-without leaving any clue as to the agency which had wrought

-his destruction. He suddenly felt sick as he thought of the

-whole hideous business.</p>

-

-<p>But it was not contemplation of the fate he had so

-narrowly escaped that sent his heart leaping into his throat

-in deadly panic. If these unspeakable ruffians had tried to

-murder him with their hellish explosives, what about Joan

-Merrill? All the talk about driving her back to her rooms

-must have been mere eyewash. She must be in deadly

-peril—if it was not too late: if she was not already—Merciful

-Heaven, he could not frame the thought!—if she

-was not already <em>dead</em>! He burst into a cold sweat, as the

-idea burned itself into his consciousness. And then suddenly

-he knew the reason. He loved her! He loved this girl who

-had saved his life and who had already proved herself such

-a splendid comrade and helpmeet. His own life, the

-wretched secret, the miserable pursuit of wealth, victory

-over the gang—what were these worth? They were

-forgotten—they were nothing—they were less than nothing! It

-was Joan and Joan’s safety that filled his mind. “Oh,

-God,” he murmured in an agony, “save her, save her! No

-matter about anything else, only save her!”</p>

-

-<p>He stood, leaning against the counter, overcome with

-these thoughts. Then the need for immediate action

-brought him to his senses. Perhaps it was not too late.

-Perhaps something might yet be done. Scotland Yard!

-That was his only hope. Instantly he must go to Scotland

-Yard and implore the help of the authorities.</p>

-

-<p>He glanced round. Persons in authority were entering

-and pushing to the front of the now dense crowd. That

-surely was the stationmaster, and there was a policeman.

-Cheyne did not want to be detained to answer questions.

-He slipped rapidly into the throng, and by making way

-for those behind to press forward, soon found himself on

-its outskirts. In a few seconds he was on the platform and

-in a couple of minutes he was in a taxi driving towards

-Westminster as fast as a promise of double fare could take

-him.</p>

-

-<p>He raced into the great building on the Embankment

-and rather incoherently stated his business. He was asked

-to sit down, and after waiting what seemed to him

-interminable ages, but what was really something under five

-minutes, he was told that Inspector French would see him.

-Would he please come this way.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch13">

-

-<h2>Chapter XIII. <br> Inspector French Takes Charge</h2>

-

-<p>Cheyne was ushered into a small, plainly furnished room,

-in which at a table-desk was seated a rather stout,

-clean-shaven man with a cheerful, good humored face and the

-suggestion of a twinkle about his eye. He stood up as

-Cheyne entered, looked him over critically with a pair of

-very keen dark blue eyes, and then smiled.</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Maxwell Cheyne?” he said genially. “I am Inspector

-French. You wish to consult us? Now just sit down

-there and tell me your trouble, and we’ll do what we can

-for you.”</p>

-

-<p>His manner was kindly and pleasant and did much to

-set Cheyne at his ease. The young man had been rather

-dreading his visit, expecting to be met with the harsh,

-incredulous, unsympathetic attitude of officialdom. But

-this inspector, with his easy manners, and his apparently

-human outlook, was quite different from his anticipation.

-He felt drawn to him and realized with relief that at least

-he would get a sympathetic hearing.</p>

-

-<p>“Thank you,” he said, trying to speak calmly. “It’s very

-good of you, I’m sure. I’m in great trouble—not about

-myself, that is, but about my—my friend, a lady, Miss

-Joan Merrill. I’m afraid she is in terrible danger, if indeed

-it is not too late.”</p>

-

-<p>“Tell me the details.” The man was all attention, and

-his quiet decisive manner induced confidence.</p>

-

-<p>Curbing his impatience, Cheyne related his adventures.

-In the briefest outline he told of the drugging in the

-Plymouth hotel, of the burglary at Warren Lodge, of his

-involuntary trip on the <i>Enid</i>, of his journey to London and his

-adventure in the house in Hopefield Avenue. Then he

-described Joan Merrill’s welcome intervention, his

-convalescence in the hospital, the compact between himself

-and Joan, his visit to Speedwell, and his burglary of

-Earlswood. He recounted Dangle’s appearance as an envoy, the

-meeting with the gang, and the explosion at Euston, and

-finally voiced the terrible suggestion which this latter

-contained as to the possible fate of Joan.</p>

-

-<p>Inspector French listened to his recital with an

-appearance of the keenest interest.</p>

-

-<p>“You have certainly had an unusual experience, Mr.

-Cheyne,” he remarked. “I don’t know that I can recall a

-similar case. Now I think we may take it that Miss

-Merrill’s safety is our first concern. We shall go out to this

-house, Earlswood, and see if we can learn anything about

-her there. The other activities of the gang must wait.

-Excuse me a moment.” He gave some orders through his

-desk telephone, resuming: “I should think the house has

-probably been vacated: these people would cover their

-traces until they learned from the papers that you had

-been killed. However, we’ll soon know that. Wait here

-until I arrange about warrants, and then we’ll start.”</p>

-

-<p>He disappeared for some minutes, while Cheyne fretted

-and chafed and tried to control his impatience. Then he

-returned, and slipping an automatic pistol into his pocket,

-invited Cheyne to follow him.</p>

-

-<p>He led the way downstairs and out into a courtyard in

-the great building. Two motorcars were just drawing up

-at the curb, while at the same moment no less than eight

-plain clothes men appeared from another door. The party

-having taken their places, the two vehicles slid out through

-a covered way into the traffic of the town.</p>

-

-<p>“We shall go round to Chelsea first,” French explained,

-“and make sure there is no news of Miss Merrill.”</p>

-

-<p>As they ran quickly through the busy streets, French

-asked a series of questions on points of Cheyne’s

-statement upon which he desired further information. “If this

-trip draws blank, as I fear it will,” he observed, “I shall

-want you to tell me your story again, this time with all

-the detail you can possibly put into it. For the moment

-there’s not time for that.”</p>

-

-<p>At Horne Terrace there was no trace or tidings of

-Joan. It was by this time half past twelve, half an hour

-after the time at which Blessington had promised she

-should be there, and Cheyne felt all his forebodings

-confirmed. But he was not surprised, feeling but the more

-eager to push on to Wembley.</p>

-

-<p>On the way French made him draw a sketch map of

-the position of Earlswood, and on nearing his goal he

-stopped the cars, and calling his men together, explained

-exactly what was to be done. Then telling Cheyne to sit

-with the driver and direct him to the front gate, they

-again mounted and went forward. At a good rate they

-swung into Dalton Road, and Cheyne pointing the way,

-his car stopped at the gate, while the other ran on down

-the cross-road to the lane at the back. The men sprang

-out, and in less time than it takes to tell, the house was

-surrounded.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne followed French as he hurried up to the door

-and gave a thundering knock. There was no answer, and

-walking round the house, the two men examined the

-windows. These being all fastened, French turned his

-attention to the back door, and after two or three minutes’

-work with a bunch of skeleton keys the bolt shot back,

-and followed by Cheyne and two of his men, he entered

-the house.</p>

-

-<p>A short search revealed the fact that the birds had

-flown, hurriedly, it seemed, as everything had been left

-exactly as during Cheyne’s visit. On the table in the

-sitting room stood the glasses from which they had drunk

-their whisky, the box of cigars lay open beside them and

-the chairs were still drawn up to the table. But there was

-no sign of Sime or Dangle, and a hurried look round

-revealed no clue to their whereabouts.</p>

-

-<p>“I feared as much,” French commented, as he sent a

-constable to call in the men who were surrounding the

-house, “but we have still two strings to our bow.” He

-turned to the others, and rapidly gave his orders. “You,

-Hinckston and Tucker, remain here and arrest any one

-who enters this house. Simmons, go to Locke Street, off

-Southampton Row, and find Speedwell, of Horton &amp;

-Lavender’s Detective Agency. You know him, don’t you?

-Well, find him and tell him this affair has developed into

-attempted murder and abduction, and ask him can he

-give any information to the Yard. Tell him I’m in charge.

-The rest of you come with me to—what did Speedwell

-give you as Sime’s address, Mr. Cheyne? . . . All right, I

-have it here—to 12 Colton Street, Putney. We shall carry

-out the same plan there, surround the house, and then

-enter and search it. All got that? Come along, Mr.

-Cheyne.”</p>

-

-<p>They hurried back to the cars and were soon

-running—somewhat over the legal speed—back to town. French,

-though he had shown energy enough at Earlswood, was

-willing to chat now in a pleasant, leisurely way, though

-he continued to interlard his remarks with questions on the

-details of Cheyne’s story. Then he took over the tracing,

-and examined it curiously. “I’ll have a go at this later,”

-he said, as he put it in his pocket, “but I can scarcely

-believe they would have given you the genuine article.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne would have questioned this opinion, reminding

-his companion he had seen the tracing pinned up to be

-photographed in the house in Hopefield Avenue, but just

-then they swung into Colton Street, and the time for

-conversation had passed. Contrary to his expectation they ran

-past No. 12 without slackening, turned down the first side

-street beyond it, and there came to a stand.</p>

-

-<p>“There’s the end of the passage behind the house,”

-French pointed when his men had dismounted. “Carter

-and Jones and Marshall go down there and watch the

-back. No doubt you counted and know it’s the eighth

-house. You other two men and you, Mr. Cheyne, come

-with me.”</p>

-

-<p>He turned back into Colton Street and with his three

-followers strode rapidly up to No. 12. It was like its

-neighbors, a small two-storied single terrace house of

-old-fashioned design. Indeed the narrow road, with its two grimy

-rows of almost working-class dwellings, seemed more like

-one of those terrible streets built in the last century in the

-slum districts of provincial towns, than a bit of

-mid-London.</p>

-

-<p>A peremptory knock from French producing no result,

-he had once more recourse to his skeleton keys. This door

-was easier to negotiate than the last, and in less than a

-minute it swung open and the four men entered the

-house.</p>

-

-<p>On the right of the hall was a tiny sitting room, and

-there they found the remains of what appeared to have

-been a hastily prepared meal. Four chairs were drawn up

-to the small central table, on which were part of a loaf,

-butter, an empty sardine tin, egg shells, two cups containing

-tea leaves and two glasses smelling of whisky. French

-put his hand on the teapot. “Feel that, Mr. Cheyne,” he

-exclaimed. “They can’t be far away.”</p>

-

-<p>The teapot was warm, and when Cheyne looked into

-the kitchen adjoining, he found that the kettle on the gas

-ring was also warm, though the ring itself had grown cold.

-If the four lunchers were Blessington and Co., as seemed

-indubitable, they must indeed be close by, and Cheyne

-grew hot with eager excitement as he thought that French

-and he might be within reasonable sight of their goal.</p>

-

-<p>Meanwhile French and his men had carried out a rapid

-search of the house, without result except to prove that

-once more the birds had flown. But as to the direction

-which their flight had taken there was no clue.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t expect we’ll see them back,” French said to

-Cheyne, “but we must take no chances.” He turned to his

-men. “Jones and Marshall, stay here in the house and arrest

-any one who enters. You, Carter, make inquiries in these

-houses to the right, and you, Hobbs, do the same to the

-left. Come, Mr. Cheyne, you and I will try the other side

-of the street.”</p>

-

-<p>They crossed to the house opposite, and French knocked.

-The door was opened by a young woman who seemed

-thrilled by French’s statement that he was a police officer

-making inquiries about the occupiers of No. 12, but who

-was unable to give him any useful information about them.

-A man lived there—she believed his name was Sime—but

-she did not know either himself or anything about him.

-No, she hadn’t seen any recent arrivals or departures. She

-had been engaged at the back of the house during the

-whole morning and had not looked out across the street.

-Yes, she believed Sime lived alone except for an elderly

-housekeeper. As far as she knew he was quite respectable,

-at least she had never heard anything against him.</p>

-

-<p>Politely thanking her, French tried the next house. Here

-he found a small girl who said she had looked out some

-half an hour previously and had seen a yellow motor

-standing before No. 12. But she had not seen it arrive or depart,

-nor anyone get in or out.</p>

-

-<p>French tried five houses without result, but at the sixth

-he had a stroke of luck.</p>

-

-<p>In this house it appeared that there was a chronic

-invalid, a sister of the woman who opened the door. This

-poor creature was confined permanently to bed, and in

-the hope of relieving the tedium of the days, she had had

-the bed drawn close to her window, so as to extract what

-amusement she could from the life of the street. If there

-had been any unusual happenings in front of No. 12, she

-would certainly have witnessed them. Yes, the woman

-was sure her sister would see the visitors.</p>

-

-<p>“Lucky chance, that,” French said, as they waited to

-know if they might go up. “If this woman’s eyes and brain

-are unaffected she’ll have become an accurate observer,

-and we’ll probably learn all there is to know.”</p>

-

-<p>In a moment the sister appeared beckoning, and going

-upstairs they found in a small front room a bed drawn up

-to the window, in which lay a superior looking elderly

-woman with a pale patient face, lined by suffering, in

-which shone a pair of large dark intelligent eyes. She was

-propped up the better to see out, and her face lighted up

-with interest at her unexpected callers, as she laid down

-among the books on the coverlet an intricate looking

-piece of fancy sewing.</p>

-

-<p>Inspector French bowed to her.</p>

-

-<p>“I’d like to say how much I appreciate your kindness in

-letting us come up, madam,” he said with his pleasant

-kindly smile, “but when you hear that we are trying to

-find a young lady who we fear has been kidnaped, I am

-sure you will be glad to help us. The matter is connected

-with No. 12 opposite. Can you tell me if any persons

-arrived or left it this morning?”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, yes, I can,” the invalid replied in cultivated tones—a

-lady born, though fallen on evil days, thought Cheyne—“I

-like to watch the people passing and I did notice

-arrivals and departures at No. 12. About, let me see—half

-past eleven, or perhaps a minute or two later a motor

-drove up to No. 12, a yellow car, fair size and covered in.

-Three men got out and went into the house. One was Mr.

-Sime, who lives there, the others I didn’t know. Mr. Sime

-opened the door with his latch-key. In a couple of minutes

-one of the strangers came out again, got into the car, and

-drove off.”</p>

-

-<p>“That the car you saw outside Earlswood, Mr. Cheyne?”

-asked French.</p>

-

-<p>“Certain to be,” Cheyne nodded. “It was a yellow

-covered-in car of medium size, No. XL7305.”</p>

-

-<p>“I didn’t observe the number,” the lady remarked. “The

-bonnet was facing towards me.”</p>

-

-<p>“What was the driver like, madam?” queried Cheyne.</p>

-

-<p>“One of Mr. Sime’s companions drove. He was short

-and rather stout, with a round face, and what, I believe,

-is called a toothbrush mustache.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s Blessington all right. And was the third man of

-medium height and build, with a clean-shaven, somewhat

-rugged face?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, that exactly describes him.”</p>

-

-<p>“And that’s Dangle. There’s no question about the

-party, Inspector.”</p>

-

-<p>“None. Then, madam, you saw—?”</p>

-

-<p>“That, as I said, was about half-past eleven. About

-half-past one the man you have called Blessington came back

-with the car. He got out, left it, and went into the house.

-In about a quarter of an hour he came out again and

-started his engine. Then the other two men followed,

-assisting a young lady who appeared to be very weak and

-ill. She seemed scarcely able to walk, and they almost

-carried her. Another girl followed, who drew the door of the

-house after her.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne started on hearing these words, and looked with

-an agonized expression at the Inspector. “What were they

-like, these women?” he breathed through his dry lips.</p>

-

-<p>But both men knew the answer. The girl assisted out by

-Sime and Dangle was undoubtedly Joan Merrill, and the

-other equally certainly was Susan Dangle.</p>

-

-<p>“She was lame—the one you thought ill?” Cheyne

-persisted. “She had twisted her ankle.”</p>

-

-<p>“Perhaps so,” the lady returned, “but I do not think so.

-She seemed to me to step equally well on each foot. It was

-more as if she was half asleep or very weak. Her head

-hung forward and she did not seem to notice where she

-was going.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne made a gesture of despair.</p>

-

-<p>“Heavens above!” he cried hoarsely. “What have they

-done to her?”</p>

-

-<p>“Drugged her,” French answered succinctly. “But you

-should take courage from that, Mr. Cheyne. It looks as if

-they didn’t mean to do her a personal injury. Yes,

-madam?”</p>

-

-<p>Before the invalid could speak Cheyne went on, a

-puzzled note in his voice.</p>

-

-<p>“But look here,” he said slowly, “I don’t understand

-this. You say that the sick lady was wearing a fur coat?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, a musquash fur.”</p>

-

-<p>“But—” He looked at French in perplexity. “Miss

-Merrill has a fur coat like that—I’ve seen it. But she wasn’t

-wearing it last night. Can it be someone else after all?”

-His voice took on a dawning eagerness.</p>

-

-<p>French shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“Don’t build too much on that, Mr. Cheyne. They may

-have lent her a coat.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, but why should they? She had a coat last night, a

-perfectly warm coat of brown cloth. She wouldn’t want

-another.”</p>

-

-<p>“Perhaps her own got muddy when she fell. We’ll have

-to leave it at that for the moment. We’ll consider it later.

-Let’s get on now and hear what this lady can tell us. Yes,

-madam, if you please?”</p>

-

-<p>“I am afraid there is not much more to be told. All five

-got into the car and drove off.”</p>

-

-<p>“In which direction?”</p>

-

-<p>“Eastwards.”</p>

-

-<p>“That is to say, they have just left about half an hour.

-We were only fifteen minutes behind them, Mr. Cheyne.”</p>

-

-<p>He got up to go, but the lady motioned him back to his

-seat.</p>

-

-<p>“There is one other thing I have just remembered,” she

-said. “It may or may not have something to do with the

-affair. Last night—it must have been about half-past

-eleven—I heard a motor in the street. It stopped for

-about ten minutes, though the engine ran all the time, then

-went off again. I didn’t look out, but now that I come to

-think about it it sounded as if it might be standing at No.

-12. Of course you understand that is only a guess, but

-motorcars are somewhat rare visitors to this street, and

-there may have been some connection.”</p>

-

-<p>“Extremely probable, I should think, madam,” French

-commented. He rose. “Now we must be off to act on what

-you have told us. I needn’t say that you have placed us

-very greatly in your debt.”</p>

-

-<p>“It was but little I could do,” the lady returned. “I do

-hope you may be able to help that poor girl. I should be

-so glad to hear that she is all right.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was touched by this unexpected sympathy.</p>

-

-<p>“You may count on my letting you know, madam,” he

-said, and then thinking of the terribly monotonous

-existence led by the poor soul, he went on warmly: “I

-should like, if I might, to call and tell you all about it, but

-if I am prevented I shall certainly write. May I know what

-name to address to?”</p>

-

-<p>“Mrs. Sproule, 17 Colton Street. I should be glad to see

-you if you are in this district, but I couldn’t think of taking

-you out of your way.”</p>

-

-<p>A few moments later French had collected his three

-remaining men, and was being driven rapidly to the

-nearest telephone call office. There he rang up the Yard,

-repeated the descriptions of the car and of each of its

-occupants, and asked for the police force generally to be

-advised that they were wanted, particularly the men on

-duty at railway stations and wharves, not only in London,

-but in the surrounding country.</p>

-

-<p>“Now we’ll have a shot at picking up the trail

-ourselves,” he went on to Cheyne when he had sent his

-message. He re-entered the car, calling to the driver: “Get

-back and find the men on point duty round about Colton

-Street.”</p>

-

-<p>Of the four men they interviewed, three had not noticed

-the yellow car. The fourth, on a beat in the thoroughfare

-at the eastern end of Colton Street, had seen a car of the

-size and color in question going eastwards at about the

-hour the party had left No. 12. There seeming nothing

-abnormal about the vehicle, he had not specially observed

-it or noted the number, but he had looked at the driver,

-and the man he described resembled Blessington.</p>

-

-<p>“That’s probably it all right,” French commented, “but

-it doesn’t help us a great deal. If they were going to any of

-the stations or steamers, or to practically anywhere in

-town, this is the way they would pass. Let us try a step

-further.”</p>

-

-<p>Keeping in the same general direction they searched for

-other men on point duty, but though after a great deal of

-running backwards and forwards, they found all in the

-immediate neighborhood that the car would have been

-likely to pass, none of them had noticed it.</p>

-

-<p>“We’ve lost them, I’m afraid,” French said at last. “We

-had better go back to the Yard. As soon as that

-description gets out we may have news at any minute.”</p>

-

-<p>A quarter of an hour later they passed once more

-through the corridors of the great building which houses

-the C.I.D., and reached French’s room. There sitting

-waiting for them was the melancholy private detective,

-Speedwell. He rose as they entered.</p>

-

-<p>“Afternoon, Mr. French. Afternoon, Mr. Cheyne,” he

-said ingratiatingly, rubbing his hands together. “I got your

-message, Mr. French, and I thought I’d better call round.

-Of course I’ll tell you anything I can to help.”</p>

-

-<p>French beamed on him.</p>

-

-<p>“Now that was good of you, Speedwell; very good. I’ll

-not forget it. Did Simmons tell you what had happened?”</p>

-

-<p>“Not in detail—only that Blessington, Sime, and the

-Dangles were wanted.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, Mr. Cheyne here and Miss Merrill were out there

-last night,” he shook his head reproachfully at Cheyne

-while a twinkle showed in his eyes, “and your friends got

-hold of Miss Merrill and we can’t find her. Mr. Cheyne

-they enticed into the house with a fair story. They led him

-to believe that Miss Merrill would be in her studio when

-he got back to town and gave him her purse, which they

-said she had dropped. It contained a time bomb, and only

-the merest chance saved Mr. Cheyne from being blown

-to bits. There are charges against the quartet of attempted

-murder of Mr. Cheyne, and of abduction of Miss Merrill.

-Can you help us at all?”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“I doubt it, Mr. French, I doubt it, sir. I found out a

-little, not very much. But all the information I have is at

-your disposal.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne stared at him.</p>

-

-<p>“But how can that be?” he exclaimed. “You were in

-their confidence—to some extent at all events. Surely you

-got some hint of what they were after?”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell made a deferential movement, and his smile

-became still more oily and ingratiating.</p>

-

-<p>“Now, Mr. Cheyne, sir, you mustn’t think too much of

-that. That was what we might call in the way of business.”

-He glanced sideways at Cheyne from his little foxy

-close-set eyes. “You can’t complain, sir, but what I answered

-your questions, and you’ll admit you got value for your

-money.”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t understand you,” Cheyne returned sharply. “Do

-you mean that that tale you told me was a lie, and that

-you weren’t employed by these people to find the man who

-burgled their house?”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell rubbed his hands together more vigorously.</p>

-

-<p>“A little business expedient, sir, merely an ordinary little

-business expedient. It would be a foolish man who would

-not display his wares to the best advantage. I’m sure, sir,

-you’ll agree with that.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne looked at him fiercely for a moment.</p>

-

-<p>“You infernal rogue!” he burst out hotly. “Then your

-tale to me was a tissue of lies, and on the strength of it you

-cheated me out of my money! Now you’ll hand that £150

-back! Do you hear that?”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell’s smile became the essence of craftiness.</p>

-

-<p>“Not so fast, sir, not so fast,” he purred. “There’s no

-need to use unpleasant language. You asked for a thing

-and agreed to pay a certain price. You got what you asked

-for, and you paid the price you agreed. There was no

-cheating there.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne was about to retort, but French, suave and

-courteous, broke in:</p>

-

-<p>“Well, we can talk of that afterwards. I think, Mr.

-Cheyne, that Mr. Speedwell has made us a satisfactory

-offer. He says he will tell us everything he knows. For my

-part I am obliged to him for that, as he is not bound to

-say anything at all. I think you will agree that we ought

-to thank him for the position he is taking up, and to hear

-what he has to say. Now, Speedwell, if you are ready. Take

-a cigar first, and make yourself comfortable.”</p>

-

-<p>“Thank you, Mr. French. I am always glad, as you

-know, sir, to assist the Yard or the police. I haven’t much

-to tell you, but here is the whole of it.”</p>

-

-<p>He lit his cigar, settled himself in his chair, and began

-to speak.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch14">

-

-<h2>Chapter XIV. <br> The Clue of the Clay-marked Shoe</h2>

-

-<p>“You know, Mr. French,” said Speedwell, “about my

-being called in by the manager of the Edgecombe in

-Plymouth when Mr. Cheyne was drugged? Mr. Cheyne

-has told you about that, sir?” French nodded and the

-other went on: “Then I need only tell you what Mr.

-Cheyne presumably does not know. I may just explain

-before beginning that I came into contact with Mr.

-Jesse, the manager, over some diamonds which were lost

-by a visitor to the hotel and which I had the good fortune

-to recover.</p>

-

-<p>“The first point that struck me about Mr. Cheyne’s

-little affair was, How did the unknown man know Mr.

-Cheyne was going to lunch at that hotel on that day? I

-found out from Mr. Cheyne that he hadn’t mentioned his

-visit to Plymouth to anyone outside of his own

-household, and I found out from Mrs. and Miss Cheyne that

-they hadn’t either. But Miss Cheyne said it had been

-discussed at lunch, and that gave me the tip. If these

-statements were all O.K. it followed that the leakage must

-have been through the servants and I had a chat with

-both, just to see what they were like. The two were quite

-different. The cook was good-humored and stupid and

-easy going, and wouldn’t have the sense to run a

-conspiracy with anyone, but the parlormaid was an able

-young woman as well up as any I’ve met. So it looked as

-if it must be her.</p>

-

-<p>“Then I thought over the burglary, and it seemed to me

-that the burglars must have got inside help, and if so, there

-again Susan was the girl. Of course there was the tying up,

-but that would be the natural way to work a blind. I

-noticed that the cook’s wrists were swollen, but Susan’s

-weren’t marked at all, so I questioned the cook, and I got

-a bit of information out of her that pretty well proved

-the thing. She said she heard the burglars ring and heard

-Susan go to the door. But she said it was three or four

-minutes before Susan screamed. Now if Susan’s story was

-true she would have screamed far sooner than that, for,

-according to her, the men had only asked could they write

-a letter when they seized her. So that again looked like

-Susan. You follow me, sir?”</p>

-

-<p>Again French nodded, while Cheyne broke in: “You

-never told me anything of that.”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell smiled once more his crafty smile.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, no, Mr. Cheyne, I didn’t mention it certainly. It

-was only a theory, you understand. I thought I’d wait till

-I was sure.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, gentlemen, there it was. Someone wanted some

-paper that Mr. Cheyne had—it was almost certainly a

-paper, as they searched his pocketbook—and Susan was

-involved. I hung about Warren Lodge, and all the time

-I was watching Susan. I found she wrote frequent letters

-and always posted them herself: so that was suspicious too.

-Then one day when she was out I slipped up to her room

-and searched around. I found a writing case in her box

-of much too good a kind for a servant, and a blotting-paper

-pad with a lot of ink marks. When I put the pad

-before a mirror I made out an address written several

-times: ‘Mr. J. Dangle, Laurel Lodge, Hopefield Avenue,

-Hendon.’ So that was that.”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell paused and glanced at his auditors in turn,

-but neither replying, he resumed:</p>

-

-<p>“I generally try to make a friend when I’m on a case:

-they’re useful if you want some special information. So I

-chummed up with the housemaid at Mrs. Hazelton’s—friends

-of Mr. Cheyne’s—live quite close by. I told this

-girl I was on the burglary job, and that there would be big

-money in it if the thieves were caught, and that if she

-helped me she should get her share. I told her I had my

-suspicions of Susan, said I was going to London, and

-asked her would she watch Susan and keep me advised of

-how things went on. She said yes, and I gave her a couple

-of pounds on account, just to keep her eager, while I came

-back to town to look after Dangle.”</p>

-

-<p>In spite of the keen interest with which he was listening

-to these revelations, Cheyne felt himself seething with

-indignant anger. How he had been hoodwinked by this

-sneaking scoundrel, with his mean ingratiating smile and

-his assumption of melancholy! He could have kicked

-himself as he remembered how he had tried to cheer and

-encourage the mock pessimist. He wondered which was

-the more hateful, the man’s deceit or the cynical way he

-was now telling of it. But, apparently unconscious of the

-antagonism which he had aroused, Speedwell calmly and,

-Cheyne thought disgustedly, a trifle proudly, continued his

-narrative.</p>

-

-<p>“I soon found that James Dangle lived at Laurel Lodge.

-He was alone except for a daily char, but up till a short

-while earlier his sister had kept house for him. When I

-learned that his sister had left Laurel Lodge on the same

-day that Susan took up her place at Warren Lodge, I soon

-guessed who Susan really was.</p>

-

-<p>“I thought that when these two would go to so much

-trouble, the thing they were after must be pretty well

-worth while, and I thought it might pay me if I could

-find out what it was. So I shadowed Dangle, and learned

-a good deal about him. I learned that he was constantly

-meeting two other men, so I shadowed them and learned

-they were Blessington and Sime. Blessington I guessed first

-time I saw him was the man who had drugged you, Mr.

-Cheyne, for he exactly covered your and the manager’s

-descriptions. It seemed clear then that these three and

-Susan Dangle—if her real name was Susan—were in the

-conspiracy to get whatever you had.”</p>

-

-<p>“But what I would like to have explained,” Cheyne burst

-in, “was why you didn’t tell me what you had discovered.

-You were paid to do it. What did you think you were

-taking that hotel manager’s money for?”</p>

-

-<p>Speedwell made a gesture of deferential disagreement.</p>

-

-<p>“I scarcely think that you can find fault with me there,

-Mr. Cheyne,” he answered with his ingratiating smile. “I

-was investigating: I had not reached the end of my

-investigation. As you will see, sir, my investigation took a

-somewhat unexpected turn—a very unexpected turn, I

-might almost say, which left me in a bit of doubt as to how

-to act. But you’ll hear.”</p>

-

-<p>Inspector French had been sitting quite still at his desk,

-but now he stretched out his hand, took a cigar from the

-box, and as he lit it, murmured: “Go on, Speedwell.

-Sounds like a novel. I’m enjoying it. Aren’t you, Mr.

-Cheyne?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne made noncommittal noises, and Speedwell,

-looking pleased, continued:</p>

-

-<p>“One evening, nearly two months ago, I got back late

-from another job and I found a wire waiting for me. It

-was from Mrs. Hazelton’s housemaid and it said:

-‘Maxwell Cheyne disappeared and Susan left Warren Lodge

-for London.’ I thought to myself: ‘Bully for you, Jane,’

-and then I thought: ‘Susan will be turning to Brother

-James. I’ll go out to Hopefield Avenue and see if I can

-pick anything up.’ So I went out. It was about half-past

-ten when I arrived. I found the front of the house in

-darkness, but an upper window at the back was lighted

-up. There was a lane along behind the houses, you

-understand, Mr. French, and a bit of garden between them and

-the lane. The gate into the garden was open, and I slipped

-in and began to tiptoe towards the house. Then I heard

-soft steps coming in after me, and I turned aside and hid

-behind a large shrub to see what would happen. And then

-I saw something that interested me very much. A man

-came in very quietly and I saw in the faint moonlight that

-he was carrying a ladder.” There was an exclamation

-from Cheyne. “He put the ladder to the lighted window

-and climbed up, and then I saw who it was. I needn’t tell

-you, Mr. Cheyne, I was surprised to see you, and I waited

-behind the bush for what would happen. I saw and heard

-the whole thing: the party coming down to supper, your

-getting in, Sime coming out and seeing the ladder, the

-alarm, your coming out, and them getting you on the head

-in the garden. You’ll perhaps think, Mr. Cheyne, that I

-should have come out and lent you a hand, but after all,

-sir, I don’t know that you could claim that you had the

-right of it altogether, and besides, it all happened so

-quickly I had no chance to interfere. Well, anyhow they

-knocked you out and then they searched you and took

-a folded paper from your pocket. ‘Thank goodness, we’ve

-got the tracing at all events,’ Dangle said, speaking very

-softly, ‘but now we’re in the soup and no mistake. What

-are we going to do with the confounded fool’s body?’

-They examined the ladder and saw from the contractor’s

-name that it had been brought from the new house, then

-they whispered together and I couldn’t hear what was

-said, but at last Sime said: ‘Right, we’ll fix it so that it

-will look as if he fell off the ladder.’ Then the three men

-picked you up, Mr. Cheyne, and carried you out down the

-lane. Susan stood in the garden waiting, and I had to sit

-tight behind the bush. In about ten minutes the men came

-back and then Sime took the ladder and carried it away

-down the lane. The others whispered together and then

-Dangle said something to Susan, ending up: ‘It’s in the

-second left hand drawer.’ She went indoors, but came out

-again in a moment with a powerful electric torch.

-Blessington and Dangle then searched for traces of your little

-affair, Mr. Cheyne. They found the marks of the ladder

-butts in the soft grass and smoothed them out, and they

-looked everywhere, I suppose, for footprints or something

-that you might have dropped when you fell. Then Sime

-came back and they all went in and shut the door.”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne snorted angrily.</p>

-

-<p>“It didn’t occur to you, I suppose, to make any effort

-to help me or even find out if I was alive or dead? You

-weren’t going to have any trouble, even if you did become

-an accessory after the fact?”</p>

-

-<p>“I’m coming to that, Mr. Cheyne. All in good time,

-sir.” Speedwell rubbed his hands unctuously. “You will

-understand that as long as the garden was occupied I

-couldn’t come out from behind the bush. But directly the

-coast was clear I got out of the garden and turned along

-the lane where they had carried you. I wondered where

-they could have hidden you, and I started searching. I

-remembered what Sime had said about the ladder, so

-I went to the half-built house and had a look around, but I

-couldn’t find you in it. Then I saw you lying back of the

-road fence, but just at that minute I heard footsteps, and

-I stopped behind a pile of bricks till the party would pass.

-But you called out and the lady stopped, and once again

-I couldn’t interfere. I heard the arrangements about the

-taxi, and when the lady went away to get it I slipped out

-and hid where I could see it. In that way I got its number.

-Next day I saw the driver and got out of him where he

-had taken you, and I kept my eye on you and when you

-got better trailed you to Miss Merrill’s. From other people

-living in the flats I found out about her.” After a pause

-he concluded: “And I think, gentlemen, that’s about all I

-have to tell you.”</p>

-

-<p>Inspector French slowly expelled a cloud of gray cigar

-smoke from his mouth.</p>

-

-<p>“Really, Speedwell, you have surpassed yourself,” he

-murmured. “Your story, as I told you, sounds like a novel.

-A pity though, that having gone so far you did not go a

-little farther. You did not find out, for example, what

-business this mysterious quartet were plotting?”</p>

-

-<p>“I did not, Mr. French,” the man returned earnestly.

-“I gathered that it was connected with ‘the tracing’ that

-Dangle spoke of, and I imagined the tracing was what

-they had been wanting from Mr. Cheyne, and evidently

-had got, but I didn’t get a sight of it, and I have no idea

-of their game.”</p>

-

-<p>“And did you find out nothing that might be a help?

-Where did those three men spend their time? What did

-they do in the daytime?”</p>

-

-<p>“Just what I told Mr. Cheyne, sir. I gave him perfectly

-correct information in everything. Dangle is a town sharp

-and helps run a gambling room in Knightsbridge. Sime is

-another of the same—collects pigeons in the night clubs for

-the others to pluck. Blessington, I got the hint, lived by

-blackmail, but I’ve no proof of this.”</p>

-

-<p>“Anything else?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, Mr. French, not that I know. Unless”—he

-hesitated—“unless one thing. It may or may not be important;

-I don’t know. It’s this: Dangle, during these last three

-or four weeks, he’s been away nearly half the time from

-London—on the Continent. I don’t know to what

-country, but it must be France or Belgium or Holland, I should

-think—or maybe Ireland—because he has crossed over

-one night and crossed back the next. I know that because

-of a remark I overheard him make to Sime in a tube lift

-where I was standing just behind him. It was a Wednesday

-and he said: ‘I’m crossing tonight, but I’ll be back

-on Friday morning.’ ”</p>

-

-<p>This seemed to be the sum total of Speedwell’s

-knowledge, or at least all he would divulge, and he

-presently departed, apparently cheered by French’s somewhat

-cryptic declaration that he would not forget the part the

-other had played in the affair. He perhaps would not have

-been so pleased had he heard French’s subsequent

-comments to Cheyne. “A dangerous man, Mr. Cheyne, for an

-amateur to deal with, though he’s too much afraid of the

-Yard to try any monkeying with me. I may tell you in

-confidence that he was dismissed from the force on

-suspicion of taking bribes to let a burglar get away—I

-needn’t say the thing couldn’t be proved, or he would have

-seen the inside of a convict prison, but there was no doubt

-at all that he was guilty. Since that he has been caught

-sailing rather close to the wind, but again he just

-managed to keep himself safe. But the result is, he would do

-anything to curry favor here, and indeed once or twice he

-has been quite useful. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he

-had been blackmailing Blessington &amp; Co. in connection

-with your attempted murder.”</p>

-

-<p>“Ugh!” Cheyne made a gesture of disgust. “The very

-sight of the man makes me sick.” Then, his look of anxious

-eagerness returning, he went on: “But, Inspector, his

-story is all very well and interesting and all that, but I

-don’t see that it helps us to find Miss Merrill, and that is

-the only thing that matters.”</p>

-

-<p>“The only thing to you, perhaps,” French returned,

-“but not the only thing to me. This whole business looks

-uncommonly like conspiracy for criminal purposes, and if

-so, it automatically concerns the Yard.” He glanced at the

-clock on the wall before his desk. “Let’s see now, it’s just

-five o’clock. Before giving up for the day I should like to

-have a look over Miss Merrill’s room to settle that little

-question of the fur coat, and I should like you to come

-with me. Shall we go now?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne sprang to his feet eagerly. Action was what he

-wanted, and his heart beat more rapidly at the prospect of

-visiting a place where every object would remind him of

-the girl he loved, and whom, in spite of himself, he feared

-he had lost. Impatiently he waited while French put on his

-hat and left word where he could be found in case of need.</p>

-

-<p>Some fifteen minutes later the two men were ascending

-the stairs of the house in Horne Terrace. The door of

-No. 12 was shut, and to Cheyne’s knock there was no

-response.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m afraid you needn’t expect Miss Merrill to have got

-back,” French commented. “I had better open the door.”</p>

-

-<p>He worked at it for a few moments, first with his bunch

-of skeleton keys, then with a bent wire, until the bolt shot

-back, and pushing open the door, they entered the room.</p>

-

-<p>It was just as Cheyne had last seen it except that the

-kettle and tea equipage had been tidied away. French

-stood in the middle of the floor, glancing keenly round

-on the contents. Then he moved to the other door.</p>

-

-<p>“This her bedroom?” he inquired, as he pushed it open

-and looked in.</p>

-

-<p>As Cheyne followed him into the tiny apartment, he felt

-as a devout Mohammedan might, who through stress of

-circumstances entered fully shod into one of the holy

-places of his religion. It seemed nothing short of profanation

-for himself and this commonplace inspector of police

-to intrude into a place so hallowed by association with

-Her. In a kind of reverent awe he looked about him. There

-was the bed in which She slept, the table at which She

-dressed, the wardrobe in which Her dresses hung, and

-there—what were those? He stood, stricken motionless by

-surprise, staring at a tiny pair of rather high-heeled brown

-shoes which were lying on their sides on the floor in front

-of a chair.</p>

-

-<p>French noted his expression.</p>

-

-<p>“What is it?” he queried, following the direction of the

-other’s eyes.</p>

-

-<p>“Her shoes!” Cheyne said in a tone of wonder, as he

-might have said: “Her diamond coronet.”</p>

-

-<p>French frowned.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, what’s wonderful about that?” he asked with the

-nearest approach to sharpness in his tone that Cheyne had

-yet heard.</p>

-

-<p>“Her shoes,” Cheyne repeated. “Her shoes that she wore

-last night.”</p>

-

-<p>It was now French’s turn to look interested.</p>

-

-<p>“Sure of that?” he asked, picking up the shoes.</p>

-

-<p>“Certain. I saw them on her in the train to Wembley.

-Unless she has two absolutely identical pairs, she was

-wearing those.”</p>

-

-<p>French had been turning the shoes over in his hand.</p>

-

-<p>“You said you saw a mark of where someone had

-slipped on the bank behind the wall you threw the tracing

-over,” he went on. “You might describe that mark.”</p>

-

-<p>“It was just a kind of scrape on the sloping ground, with

-the footprint below it. Her foot had evidently slipped

-down till it came to a firmer place.”</p>

-

-<p>“Right foot or left?”</p>

-

-<p>“Right.”</p>

-

-<p>“And which way was the toe pointing: towards the

-bank or parallel with it?”</p>

-

-<p>“Parallel. She had evidently climbed up diagonally.”</p>

-

-<p>“Quite so. Now another question. If you were standing

-in the field looking towards the bank, did she climb

-towards the right hand or the left?”</p>

-

-<p>“The left.”</p>

-

-<p>“And the soil where the mark was; you might describe

-that.”</p>

-

-<p>“It was rather light in color, a yellowish brown. It was

-clayey, and the print showed clearly, as it would in stiff

-putty.”</p>

-

-<p>French nodded.</p>

-

-<p>“Then, Mr. Cheyne, if all your data are right, and if the

-footprint was made by Miss Merrill when she was wearing

-these shoes, I should expect to find a mark of yellowish

-clay on the outside of the right shoe. Isn’t that correct?”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne thought for a moment, then signified his assent.</p>

-

-<p>“I turn up this shoe,” French continued, suiting the

-action to the word, “and I find here the very mark I was

-expecting. See for yourself. I think we may take it then,

-not only that Miss Merrill made the mark on the bank,

-and of course made it last night, but also that she was

-wearing these shoes when she made it. And that would

-coincide with your observation.”</p>

-

-<p>“But,” cried Cheyne, “I don’t understand. How did the

-shoes get here? Miss Merrill wasn’t here since we left to

-go to Wembley.”</p>

-

-<p>“How do you know?”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, there’s what Dangle said. I don’t mean of course

-that I believe Dangle. Everything else he’s said to me has

-turned out to be a lie. But in this case the circumstances

-seem to prove this story. If he didn’t see Miss Merrill

-how did he know of her getting over the wall for the

-tracing? And if he didn’t capture her then why did she not

-return here? Or rather, suppose she did return, why should

-she go away again without leaving a note or sending me a

-message?”</p>

-

-<p>French shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t know,” he answered. “I merely asked the

-question and your answer certainly seems sound. But now let

-us look about the coat.” He opened the wardrobe door.

-“Is the cloth coat she was wearing last night here?”</p>

-

-<p>A glance showed Cheyne the brown cloth, fur-trimmed

-coat Joan had worn on the previous evening.</p>

-

-<p>“And you will see further,” went on French when he

-had been satisfied on this point, “that there is no coat here

-of musquash fur. You say she had one?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes. I have seen her wearing it several times.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then I think Mrs. Sproule saw her wearing it today.

-We may take it, I think, either that she returned here last

-night and changed her clothes, or else that someone

-brought in her coat and shoes, left them here and took

-out her others.”</p>

-

-<p>“The latter, I should think,” Cheyne declared.</p>

-

-<p>“Why?”</p>

-

-<p>“Because I don’t think she would come here of her own

-free will and leave again without sending me some

-message.”</p>

-

-<p>French did not reply. He had rather taken the view that

-if the girl was the prisoner of the gang the garments would

-not have been changed, and the more he thought over it

-the more probable this seemed. Rather he was inclined to

-believe that she had reached her rooms after the episode at

-Earlswood, possibly even with the tracing; that she had

-been followed there and by some trick induced to leave

-again, when in all probability she had been kidnaped

-and the tracing recovered by the gang. But he felt there

-was no use in discussing this theory with Cheyne, whose

-anxiety as to the girl’s welfare had rendered his critical

-faculty almost useless. He turned back to the young man.</p>

-

-<p>“I have no doubt that that shoe of Miss Merrill’s made

-the mark you saw,” he observed. “At the same time I

-want definite evidence. It won’t take very long to run out

-to Wembley and try. Let us go now, and that will finish us

-for tonight.”</p>

-

-<p>They took a taxi and were soon at the place in question.

-The print was not so clear as when Cheyne had seen it

-first, but in spite of this French had no difficulty in

-satisfying himself. The shoe fitted it exactly.</p>

-

-<p>That night after supper, as French stretched himself in

-his easy-chair, he decided he would have a preliminary

-look at the tracing. He recognized that the mere fact that

-it had been handed to Cheyne by Dangle involved the

-probability that it was not the genuine document but a

-faked copy. At the same time he was bound to make what

-he could of it, and it was with very keen interest he

-unfolded and began to study it.</p>

-

-<p>It was neatly drawn, though evidently not by a professional

-draughtsman. The lettering of the words, “England

-expects every man to do his duty” was amateurish. He

-wondered what the phrase could mean. It did not seem to

-ring quite true. In his mind the words ran “England

-expects that every man this day will do his duty,” but he

-rather thought this was the version in the song, and if so,

-the wording might have been altered from the original

-for metrical reasons. He determined to look up the quotation

-on the first opportunity. On the other hand it might

-have been condensed into eight words in order to fit round

-the sheet. It was spaced in a large circle among the smaller

-circles like the figures of a clock. It conveyed to him no

-idea whatever, except the obvious suggestion of Nelson.

-Could Nelson, he wondered, or Trafalgar, be the key word

-in some form of cipher?</p>

-

-<p>As he studied the sheet he noted some points which

-Cheyne appeared to have missed, or which at all events

-he had not mentioned. While the circles were spaced

-without any apparent plan—absolutely irregularly, it seemed

-to French—there was some evidence of arrangement in

-their contents. Those nearer the edges of the tracing

-contained letters, while those more centrally situated bore

-numbers. There was no hard and fast line between the

-two, as letters and numbers appeared, so to speak, to

-overlap each other’s territory, but broadly speaking the

-arrangement held. He noticed also a few circles which

-contained neither numbers nor letters, but instead tiny

-irregular lines. There were only some half dozen of these,

-but all of them so far as he could see occurred on the

-neutral territory between the number zone and the letter

-zone. These irregular lines represented nothing that he

-could imagine, and no two appeared of the same shape.</p>

-

-<p>That the document was a cipher he could not but

-conclude, and in vain he puzzled over it until long past his

-usual bedtime. Finally, locking it away in his desk, he

-decided that when he had completed the obvious

-investigations which still remained, he would have another go at

-it, working through all the possibilities that occurred to

-him systematically and thoroughly.</p>

-

-<p>But before French had another opportunity to examine

-it, further news had come in which had led him a dance

-of several hundred miles, and left him hot on the track of

-the conspirators.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch15">

-

-<h2>Chapter XV. <br> The Torn Hotel Bill</h2>

-

-<p>On reaching the Yard next morning Inspector French

-began his day by compiling a list of the various points on

-which obvious investigations still remained to be made.

-He had already determined that these should be carried

-through with the greatest possible dispatch, leaving a

-general consideration of the case over until their results should

-be available.</p>

-

-<p>The immediate questions were, of course: Was Joan

-Merrill alive? And if so, where was she? These must be

-solved as soon as possible. The further matters relating to

-the hiding-place and aims of the gang could wait. It was,

-however, likely enough that if French could find Joan, he

-would have at least gone a long way towards solving her

-captors’ secret.</p>

-

-<p>Perhaps the most promising of all the lines of inquiry open

-to him were the detailed searches of Blessington’s and

-Sime’s houses, and he decided he would begin with these.

-Accordingly, having called Sergeant Carter and a couple

-more men, he went out to Earlswood and set to work.</p>

-

-<p>French was extraordinarily thorough. Nothing in that

-house, from the water cistern space in the roof to the floors

-of the pantries and the tool shed in the yard—nothing

-escaped observation. The furniture was examined, particularly

-the writing desk and the old escritoire, the carpets

-were lifted and the floors tested, the walls were minutely

-inspected for secret receptacles, the pages of the books were

-turned over, the clothes—of which a respectable wardrobe

-remained—were gone through, with special attention to

-the pockets. Nothing was taken for granted: everything

-was examined. Even the outside of the house and the soil

-of the garden were looked at, and at the end, some four

-hours after they had begun, French had to admit that his

-gains were practically nil.</p>

-

-<p>The reservation was in respect of four objects, from one

-or more of which he might conceivably extract some

-information, though he was far from hopeful. The first was the

-top sheet of Blessington’s writing pad. French, following

-his usual custom, had examined it through a mirror, but

-so completely covered was it with inkstains that he was

-unable to decipher even a single word. However, on chance

-he tore it off and put it in his pocket, in the hope that

-a future more detailed examination might reveal something

-of interest.</p>

-

-<p>The second object was a scrap of crumpled paper which

-he found in the right-hand upper pocket of one of Dangle’s

-waistcoats. It looked as if it had been crushed to the

-bottom of the pocket by some other article—such as an

-engagement book—being thrust down on the top of it.

-When the pockets had been cleared—as all had been—this

-small piece of paper had evidently been overlooked.</p>

-

-<p>French straightened it out. It was the bottom portion of

-what was clearly a bill, apparently a French hotel bill. On

-the back was a note written in pencil, and as French read

-it, the thought passed through his mind that he could not

-have imagined any more unexpected or puzzling contents.

-It was in the form of a memorandum and read:</p>

-

-<table class="display">

-<tr><td>. . . . . . ins.</td></tr>

-<tr><td>. . . . ators.</td></tr>

-<tr><td>Peaches—3 doz. tins.</td></tr>

-<tr><td>Safety Matches—6 doz. boxes.</td></tr>

-<tr><td>Galsworthy—The Forsyte Saga.</td></tr>

-<tr><td>Pencils and Fountain Pen Ink.</td></tr>

-<tr><td>Sou’wester.</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p>The paper was torn across the first two items, so that

-only part of the words were legible. What so heterogeneous

-a collection could possibly refer to French could not

-imagine, but he put the fragment in his pocket with the

-blotting paper for future study.</p>

-

-<p>The other two objects were photographs, and from the

-descriptions he had received from Cheyne he felt satisfied

-that one was of Blessington and the other of Dangle. These

-were of no help in themselves, but might later prove useful

-for identification purposes.</p>

-

-<p>The search of Earlswood complete, French gave his men

-an hour for lunch, and then started a similar investigation

-of Sime’s house. He was just as painstaking and thorough

-here, but this time he had no luck at all. Though Sime

-had not so carefully destroyed papers and correspondence,

-he could not find a single thing which seemed to offer help.</p>

-

-<p>Sime’s house being so much smaller than Blessington’s,

-the search was finished in little over an hour. On its

-completion French sent two of his men back to the Yard, while

-with Sergeant Carter he drove to Horne Terrace. There he

-examined Joan Merrill’s rooms, again without result.</p>

-

-<p>The work ended about four, and then he and Carter

-began another job, quite as detailed and a good deal more

-wearisome than the others. He had determined to question

-individually every other person living in the house—that

-is, the inhabitants of no less than nine flats—in the hope

-that some one of them might have seen or heard Joan

-returning to her rooms on the night of her disappearance.

-In a way the point was not of supreme importance, but

-experience had taught French the danger of neglecting <em>any</em>

-clue, no matter how unpromising, and he had long since

-made it a principle to follow up every opening which

-offered.</p>

-

-<p>For over two hours he worked, and at last, as he was

-beginning to accept defeat, he obtained just the

-information he required.</p>

-

-<p>It appeared that about a quarter past eleven on the

-night in question, the fifteen-year-old daughter of a widow

-living on the third floor was returning home from some

-small jollification when she saw, just as she approached the

-door, three persons come out. Two were men, one tall, well

-built and clean-shaven, the other short and stout, with a

-fair toothbrush mustache. The third person was Miss

-Merrill. A street lamp had shone directly on their faces as

-they emerged, and the girl had noticed that the men wore

-serious expressions and that Miss Merrill looked pale and

-anxious, as if all three were sharers in some bad news.

-They crossed the sidewalk to a waiting motor. Miss Merrill

-and the taller man got inside, the second man driving.

-During the time the girl saw them, none of them spoke.

-She remembered the car. It was a yellow one with a coach

-body, and looked a private vehicle. Yes, she recognized

-the photograph the Inspector showed her—Blessington’s.

-It was that of the driver of the car.</p>

-

-<p>It did not seem worth while to French to try to trace

-the car, as he fancied he knew where it had gone. From

-Horne Terrace to Sime’s house in Colton Street was about

-a ten minute run. Therefore if it left the former about

-11:15, it should reach the latter a minute or two before

-the half-hour. This worked in with the time at which the

-invalid lady, Mrs. Sproule, had heard the motor stop in

-the street, and to French it seemed clear that Miss Merrill

-had been taken direct to Sime’s, and kept there until

-1:45 <span class="sc">p.m.</span>

-on the following day. What arguments or threats the

-pair had used to get her to accompany them French could

-not tell, but he shrewdly suspected that they had played

-the same trick on her as on Cheyne. In all probability they

-had told her that Cheyne had met with an accident and

-was conscious and asking for her. Once in the cab it would

-have been child’s play for a powerful man like Sime to

-have chloroformed her, and having got her to the house,

-they could easily have kept her helpless and semi-conscious

-by means of drugs.</p>

-

-<p>French returned on foot to the Yard, thinking over the

-affair as he walked. It certainly had a sinister look. These

-men were very much in earnest. They had not hesitated to

-resort to murder in the case of Cheyne—it was through,

-to them, an absolutely unforeseen accident that he

-escaped—and French felt he would not give much for Joan

-Merrill’s chances.</p>

-

-<p>When he reached his office he found that a piece of

-news had just come in. A constable who had been on

-point duty at the intersection of South and Mitchem

-Streets, near Waterloo Station, had noticed about 2 <span

-class="sc">p.m.</span> on the day of the disappearance of the gang, a yellow

-motorcar pass close beside him and turn into Hackworth’s

-garage, a small establishment in the latter street. Though

-he had not observed the vehicle with more than the

-ordinary attention such a man will give to the passing traffic,

-his recollection both of the car and driver led him to the

-belief that they were those referred to in the Yard circular.

-The constable was waiting to see French, and made his

-report with diffidence, saying that though he thought he

-was right, he might easily be mistaken.</p>

-

-<p>“Quite right to let me know anyhow, Wilson,” French

-said heartily. “If you’ve seen Blessington’s car it may give

-us a valuable clue, and if you’re mistaken, there’s no harm

-done. We’ve nothing to lose by following it up.” He

-glanced at his watch. “It’s past my dinner hour, but I’ll

-take a taxi and go round to this garage on my way home.

-You’d better come along.”</p>

-

-<p>Ten minutes later the two men reached Hackworth’s

-establishment, and pushing open the door of the tiny

-office, asked if the manager was about.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m John Hackworth. Yes, sir?” said a stout man in

-shabby gray tweeds. “Want a car?”</p>

-

-<p>“I want a word with you, Mr. Hackworth,” said French

-pleasantly. “Just a small matter of private business.”</p>

-

-<p>Hackworth nodded, and indicated a farther door.</p>

-

-<p>“In here,” he invited, and when French and the

-constable had taken the two chairs the room contained, he

-briskly repeated: “Yes, sir?”</p>

-

-<p>At this hint not to waste valuable time, French promptly

-introduced himself and propounded his question. Mr.

-Hackworth looked impressed.</p>

-

-<p>“You don’t tell me that gent was a wrong ’un?” he said

-anxiously, then another idea seeming to strike him, he

-continued: “Of course it don’t matter to me in a way, for

-I’ve got the car. I’ll tell you about it.”</p>

-

-<p>French produced his photograph of Blessington.</p>

-

-<p>“Tell me first if that’s the man,” he suggested.</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Hackworth pushed the card up to the electric bulb.

-“It’s him,” he declared. “It’s him and no mistake. He

-walked in here yesterday—no, the day before—about

-eleven and asked to see the boss. ‘I’ve got a car,’ he said

-when I went forward, ‘and there’s something wrong with

-the engine. Sometimes it goes all right and sometimes it

-doesn’t. Maybe,’ he said, ‘you’ll start it up and it’ll run a

-mile or two well enough, then it begins to miss, and the

-speed drops perhaps to eight or ten miles. I don’t know

-what’s wrong.’</p>

-

-<p>“ ‘What about your petrol feed?’ I said. ‘Sounds like

-your carburetor, or maybe your strainer or one of your

-pipes choked.’</p>

-

-<p>“ ‘I thought it might be that,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t

-find anything wrong. However, I want you to look over it,

-that is, if you can lend me a car while you’re doing it.’</p>

-

-<p>“Well, sir, I needn’t go into all the details, and to make

-a long story short, I agreed to overhaul the car and to

-lend him an old Napier while I was at it. He went away,

-and same day about two or before it he came back with

-his car, a yellow Armstrong Siddeley. It seemed to be all

-right then, but he said that that was just the trouble—it

-might be all right now and it would be all wrong within

-a minute’s time. So I gave him the Napier—it was a done

-machine, worth very little, but would go all right, you

-understand. He asked me how long I would take, and I

-said I’d have it for him next day, that was yesterday. He

-had three or four suitcases with him and he transferred

-these across. Then he got into the Napier and drove away,

-and that was the last I saw of him.”</p>

-

-<p>“And what was wrong with his own car?”</p>

-

-<p>“There, sir, you have me beat. Nothing! Or nothing

-anyhow that I could find.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was the Napier a four-seater?”</p>

-

-<p>“Five. Three behind and two in front.”</p>

-

-<p>“A coach body?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, but with a good canvas cover, and he put it up,

-too, before starting.”</p>

-

-<p>“Raining?”</p>

-

-<p>“Neither raining nor like rain: nor no wind neither.”</p>

-

-<p>“How long was he here altogether?”</p>

-

-<p>“Not more than five or six minutes. He left just as soon

-as he could change the cars.”</p>

-

-<p>French, having put a few more questions, got the

-proprietor to write out a detailed description of the Napier.

-Next, he begged the use of the garage telephone and

-repeated the description to the Yard, asking that it should

-be circulated among the force without delay. Finally he

-thanked the stout Mr. Hackworth for his help, and with

-Constable Wilson left the establishment.</p>

-

-<p>“Now, Wilson,” he said, “you’ve done a good day’s

-work. I’m pleased with you. You may get along home, and

-if I want anything more I’ll let you know in the morning.”</p>

-

-<p>But though it was so late, French did not follow his

-subordinate’s example. Instead he stood on the sidewalk

-outside the garage, thinking hard.</p>

-

-<p>As to the nature of the defect in the engine of the yellow

-car he had no doubt. What was wrong with it was just

-what Hackworth had said was wrong with it—nothing

-whatever. French could see that the whole episode was

-simply a plan on Blessington’s part to change the car and

-thus cover up his traces. The yellow Armstrong-Siddeley

-was known to be his by many persons, and Blessington

-wanted one which, as he would believe, could not be

-traced. He would have seen from the papers that Cheyne

-had escaped the fate prepared for him, and he would

-certainly suspect that the outraged young man would put his

-knowledge at the disposal of the police. Therefore the

-yellow car was a danger and another must be procured in

-its place. The trick was obvious, and French had heard of

-something like it before.</p>

-

-<p>But though the main part of the scheme was clear to

-French, the details were not. From the statement of Mrs.

-Sproule, the invalid of Colton Street, the yellow car had

-left Sime’s house at about 1:45. According to this

-Hackworth it had reached the garage at a minute or so

-before two. Now, from Colton Street to the garage was a

-ten or twelve minutes’ drive, therefore Blessington must

-have gone practically direct. Moreover, when he left

-Colton Street Joan Merrill and the other members of the

-gang were in the car, but when he reached the garage he

-was alone. Where had the others dismounted?</p>

-

-<p>Another question suggested itself to French, and he

-thought that if he could answer it he would probably be

-able to answer the first as well. Why did Blessington select

-this particular garage? He did not know this Hackworth—the

-man had said he had never seen Blessington before.

-Why then this particular establishment rather than one of

-the scores nearer Sime’s dwelling?</p>

-

-<p>For some minutes French puzzled over this point, and

-then a probable explanation struck him. There, just a

-hundred yards or more away, was a place admirably suited

-for dropping his passengers and picking them up again—Waterloo

-Station. What more natural for Blessington than

-to pull up at the departure side with the yellow

-Armstrong-Siddeley and set them down? What more commonplace

-for him than to pick them up at the arrival side with the

-black Napier? While he was changing the cars, they could

-enter, mingle with the crowds of passengers, work their

-way across the station and be waiting for him as if they

-had just arrived by train.</p>

-

-<p>Late as it was, French returned to the Yard and put a

-good man on to make inquiries at Waterloo in the hope of

-proving his theory. Then, tired and very hungry, he went

-home.</p>

-

-<p>But when he had finished supper and, ensconced in his

-armchair with a cigar, had looked through the evening

-paper, interest in the case reasserted itself, and he

-determined that he would have a look at the scrap of paper

-which he had found in the pocket of one of Dangle’s

-waistcoats.</p>

-

-<p>As has been said, it was a list or memorandum of certain

-articles, written on the back of part of an old hotel bill.

-French reread the items with something as nearly

-approaching bewilderment as a staid inspector of the Yard

-can properly admit. Peaches, safety matches, the Forsyte

-Saga, pencil, fountain pen ink, and a sou’wester! What in

-the name of goodness could anyone want with such a

-heterogeneous collection? And the quantities! Three dozen

-tins of peaches, and six dozen boxes of matches! Enough

-to do a small expeditionary force, French thought

-whimsically, though he did not see an expeditionary force

-requiring the works of John Galsworthy, ink, and pencils.</p>

-

-<p>And yet was this idea so absurd? Did not these articles,

-in point of fact, suggest an expedition? Peaches, matches,

-pencils, and ink—all these articles were commonplace and

-universally obtainable. Did the fact that a quantity were

-required not mean that Dangle or his friends were to be

-cut off for some considerable time from the ordinary

-sources of supply? It certainly looked like it. And as he

-thought over the other articles, he saw that they too were

-not inconsistent with the same idea. The Forsyte Saga was

-distinguished from most novels in a peculiar and indeed a

-suggestive manner. It consisted of a number of novels, each

-full length or more than full length, but the point of

-interest was that the entire collection was published on thin

-paper in this one volume. Where could one get a greater

-mass of reading matter in a smaller bulk: in other words,

-where could one find a more suitable work of fiction to

-carry with one on an expedition?</p>

-

-<p>The sou’wester also fitted from this point of view into

-the scheme of things, but it added a distinctive suggestion

-all its own: that of the sea. French’s thoughts turned

-towards a voyage. But it could not be an ordinary voyage

-in a well-appointed liner, where peaches and matches and

-novels would be as plentiful as in the heart of London.

-Nor did it seem likely that it could be a trip in the <i>Enid</i>.

-Such a craft could not remain out of touch with land for

-so long a period as these stores seemed to postulate. French

-could not think of anything that seemed exactly to meet

-the case, though he registered the idea of an expedition as

-one to be kept in view.</p>

-

-<p>Leaving the point for the time being, he turned over the

-paper and began to examine its other side.</p>

-

-<p>It formed the middle portion of an old hotel bill, the top

-and bottom having been torn off. The items indicated a

-stay of one night only being merely for bed and breakfast.

-The name of the hotel had been torn off with the bill

-head, and also all but a few letters of the green rubber

-receipt stamp at the bottom. French felt that if he could

-only ascertain the identity of the hotel it might afford him

-a valuable clue, and he settled down to study it in as close

-detail as possible.</p>

-

-<figure>

-  <img src="images/scrap.png"

-       alt="A torn scrap of paper, showing part of a bill for

-“1 chambre” and “1 petit déjeuner”, totaling to 28 50. The ends of a

-few other words are visible at the edges of the paper.">

-</figure>

-

-<p>He recalled two statements that Speedwell had made

-about Dangle. First, the melancholy detective had said

-that commencing about a fortnight after the acquisition by

-the gang of Price’s letter and the tracing, Dangle had

-begun paying frequent visits to the Continent or Ireland,

-and secondly, that in a tube lift he had overheard Dangle

-say that he was crossing on a given night, but would be

-back the next. French thought he might take it for granted

-that this bill had been incurred on one of these trips. He

-wondered if Dangle had always visited the same place, as,

-if so, the bill would refer to an hotel near enough to

-England to be visited in one day. Of none of this was

-there any evidence, but French believed that it was

-sufficiently probable to be taken as a working hypothesis.

-If it led nowhere, he could try something else.</p>

-

-<p>Assuming then that one could cross to the place in one

-night and return the next, it was obvious that it must be

-comparatively close to England, and, the language on the

-bill being French, it must be in France or Belgium. He

-took an atlas and a Continental Bradshaw, and began to

-look out the area over which this condition obtained. Soon

-he saw that while the whole of Belgium and the

-northwest of France, bounded by a rough line drawn through

-Chalons, Nancy, Dijon, Angoulême, Chartres, and Brest,

-were within the <em>possible</em> limit, giving a reasonable time in

-which to transact business, it was more than likely the

-place did not lie east of Brussels and Paris.</p>

-

-<p>He turned back to the torn bill. Could he learn nothing

-from it?</p>

-

-<p>First, as to the charges. With the franc standing at

-eighty, twenty four francs seemed plenty for a single room,

-though it was by no means exorbitant. It and the 4.50 fr.

-for <i>petit déjeuner</i> suggested a fairly good hotel—probably

-what might be termed good second-class—not one of the

-great hotels de luxe like the Savoy in London or the

-Crillon or Claridge’s in Paris, but one that ordinary people

-patronized, and which would be well known in its own

-town.</p>

-

-<p>Of all the information available, the most promising line

-of research seemed that of the rubber stamp, and to that

-French now turned his attention. The three lines read:</p>

-

-<table class="display">

-<tr><td>. . . uit</td></tr>

-<tr><td>. . . lon,</td></tr>

-<tr><td>. . . S.</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p>French thought he had something that might help here.

-He rose, crossed the room, and after searching in his letter

-file, produced three or four papers. These were hotel bills

-he had incurred in France and Switzerland when he

-visited those countries in search of the murderer of Charles

-Gething of the firm of Duke &amp; Peabody, and he had

-brought them home with him in the hope that some day

-he might return as a holiday-maker to these same hotels.

-Now perhaps they would be of use in another way.</p>

-

-<p>He spread them out and examined their receipt stamps.

-From their analogy the . . . uit on his fragment obviously

-stood for the words “Pour acquit,” anglice: “paid.” The

-middle line ending in . . . lon was unquestionably the

-name of the hotel, and the third, ending in S, that of its

-town. And here again was a suggestion as to the size of

-the establishment. A street was not included in the

-address. It must therefore be well known in its town.</p>

-

-<p>It seemed to him moreover that this fact also conveyed

-a suggestion as to the size of the town. If the latter were

-Paris or Brussels—as he had thought not unlikely as both

-these names ended in s—a street address would almost

-certainly have been given. The names of the hotel and

-town alone pointed to a town of the same standing as the

-hotel itself—a large town to have so important an hotel,

-but not a capital city. In other words, there was a certain

-probability the hotel was situated in a large town

-comparatively near the English Channel, Paris and Brussels

-being excepted.</p>

-

-<p>As French sat pondering over the affair, he saw suddenly

-that further information was obtainable from the fact that

-the lettering on a rubber stamp is always done symmetrically.

-Once more rising, he found a small piece of tracing

-paper, and placing this over the mutilated receipt stamp,

-he began to print in the missing letters of the first line.

-His printing was not very good, but he did not mind that.

-All he wanted was to get the spacing of the letters correct,

-and to this end he took a lot of trouble. He searched

-through the advertisements in several papers until he

-found some type of the same kind as that of the . . . uit,

-and by carefully measuring the other letters he at last

-satisfied himself as to just where the P of Pour acquit

-would stand. This, he hoped, would give him the number

-of letters in the names of both the hotel and the town.

-Drawing a line down at right angles to the t of acquit,

-he found that the n of . . . lon projected slightly over a

-quarter inch farther along, while the S of the town was

-almost directly beneath. By drawing another line down

-from the P of Pour, and measuring these same distances

-from it, he found the lengths of the names of hotel and

-town, and by further careful examination and spacing of

-type, he reached definite conclusions. The name of the

-hotel, including the word hotel, contained from eighteen

-to twenty letters and that of the town six, more or less

-according to whether letters like I or W predominated.</p>

-

-<p>He was pleased with his progress. Starting from nothing

-he had evolved the conception of an important hotel—the

-something-lon, in a large town situated in France or

-Belgium, and comparatively near the English Channel, the

-name of the town consisting of five, six, or seven letters of

-which the last one was S. Surely, he thought, such an

-hotel would not be hard to find.</p>

-

-<p>If he was correct as to the size of the town, it was one

-which would be marked on a fairly small scale map, and

-taking his atlas, he began to make a list of all those which

-seemed to meet the case. He soon saw there were a

-number—Calais, Amiens, Beauvais, Étaples, Arras, Soissons,

-Troyes, Ypres, Bruges, Roulers, and Malines.</p>

-

-<p>He had by this time become so excited over his quest that

-in spite of the hour—it was long past his bedtime—he

-telephoned to the Yard to send him Baedeker’s Guides to

-Northern France and Belgium, and when these came he

-began eagerly looking up the hotels in each of the towns

-on his list. For a considerable time he worked on without

-result, then suddenly he laughed from sheer delight.</p>

-

-<p>He had reached Bruges, and there, third on the list,

-was “Grand Hôtel du Sablon!” Moreover, this name

-exactly filled the required space.</p>

-

-<p>“Got it in one,” he chuckled, feeling immensely pleased

-with himself.</p>

-

-<p>But French, if sometimes an enthusiastic optimist and

-again a down and out pessimist, was at all times thorough.

-He did not stop at Bruges. He worked all the way through

-the list, and it was not until he had satisfied himself that

-no other hotel fulfilling the conditions existed in any of

-the other towns, that he felt himself satisfied. It was true

-there was an Hotel du Carillon in Malines, but this name

-was obviously too short for the space.</p>

-

-<p>As he went jubilantly to bed, the vision of a trip to the

-historic city of Bruges bulked large in his imagination.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch16">

-

-<h2>Chapter XVI. <br> A Tale of Two Cities</h2>

-

-<p>Next morning French had an interview with his chief at

-the Yard at which he produced the torn hotel bill, and

-having demonstrated the methods by which he had come

-to identify it with the Grand Hôtel du Sablon in Bruges,

-suggested that a visit there might be desirable. To his

-secret relief Chief Inspector Mitchell took the same view,

-and it was arranged that he should cross as soon as he

-could get away.</p>

-

-<p>On his return to his room he found Cheyne waiting for

-him. The young man seemed to have aged by years since

-his frenzied appeal to the Yard, and his anxious face and

-distrait manner bore testimony to the mental stress

-through which he was passing. Eagerly he inquired for

-news.</p>

-

-<p>“None so far, I’m sorry to say,” French answered,

-“except that we have found that Miss Merrill did return to

-her rooms that night,” and he told what he had learned of

-Joan’s movements, as well as of his visit to Hackworth’s

-garage, and of Blessington’s exchange of cars. But of

-Bruges and the hotel bill he said nothing. Cheyne, he felt

-sure, would have begged to be allowed to accompany him

-to Belgium, and this he did not want. But in his kindly

-way he talked sympathetically to the young man

-reiterating his promise to let him know directly anything of

-importance was learned.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne having reluctantly taken his leave, French

-turned to routine business, which had got sadly behind

-during the last few days. At this he worked all the

-morning, but on his return from lunch he found that further

-news had come in.</p>

-

-<p>Sergeant Burnett, the man he had put on the Waterloo

-Station job, was waiting for him, and reported success in

-his mission. He had, he said, spent the whole of the day

-from early morning at the station, and at last he had

-obtained what he wanted. A taximan on a nearby stand

-had been called to the footpath at the arrival side of the

-station at about 2:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> He had drawn up behind an

-old black car, which he had thought was a Napier. His own

-fare, a lady, kept him waiting for a few seconds while she

-took a somewhat leisurely farewell of the gentleman who

-was seeing her off, and during this time he had idly

-watched the vehicle in front. He had seen an invalid lady

-in a sable colored fur coat being helped in. There was a

-second lady with her, and a tall man. The three got in,

-and the car moved off at the same time as his own.

-Sergeant Burnett had questioned the man on the appearance

-of the travelers, and was pretty certain that they were

-Joan, Susan, and Sime. Dangle, so far as he could learn,

-was not with them.</p>

-

-<p>French felt the sudden thrill of the artist who has just

-caught the elusive effect of light which he wanted, as he

-reflected how sound had been his deduction. He had

-considered it likely that these people would use Waterloo

-Station to effect the change of cars, and now it seemed that

-they had done so. Nothing like a bit of imagination, he

-thought, as he good-naturedly complimented the sergeant

-on his powers, and dismissed him.</p>

-

-<p>Having too much to see to at the Yard to catch the

-2:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> from Victoria for Ostend, he rang up and

-engaged a berth on the Harwich-Zeebrugge boat, and that night

-at 8:40 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> he left Liverpool Street for Belgium.</p>

-

-<p>Apart from his actual business, he was looking forward

-with considerable keenness to the trip. Foreign travel had

-become perhaps his greatest pleasure, and he had never yet

-been in Belgium. Moreover he had always heard Bruges

-mentioned as the paradise of artists, and in a rather

-shamefaced way he admitted an interest in and appreciation of

-art. He had determined that if at all possible he would

-snatch enough time to see at least the more interesting

-parts of the old town.</p>

-

-<p>They left the Parkeston Quay at 10:30, and by 6 next

-morning French was on deck. He was anxious to miss no

-possible sight of the approach of Zeebrugge. He had read

-with a thrilled and breathless interest the story of what

-was perhaps the greatest naval exploit of all time—as,

-indeed, who has not?—and as the long, low line of the

-famous mole loomed up rather starboard of straight ahead,

-his heart beat faster and a lump came in his throat. There,

-away to the right, round the curve of the long pier, must

-have been where <i>Vindictive</i> boarded, where in an inferno

-of fire her crew reached with their scaling ladders the top

-of the great sea wall, and climbing down on the inside,

-joined a hand-to-hand fight with the German defenders.

-And here, at the left hand end of the huge semicircle, was

-the lighthouse, which he was now rounding as <i>Thetis</i>, <i>Intrepid</i>,

-and <i>Iphigenia</i> rounded it on that historic night.

-He tried to picture the scene. The screen of smoke to sea,

-which baffled the searchlights of the defenders and from

-which mysterious and unexpected craft emerged at

-intervals, the flashing lights as guns were fired and shells burst

-over the mole, the sea, and the low-lying sand dunes of

-the coast behind. The din of hell in the air, fire, smoke,

-explosion, and death—and those three ships passing

-on; <i>Thetis</i> a wreck, struck and fiercely burning, forced aside

-by the destruction of her gear, but lighting her fellows

-straight to their goal—the mouth of the canal which led to

-the submarine base at Bruges. French crossed the deck and

-gazed at the spot with its swing bridge and stone side

-walls, as he thought how, had the desperate venture failed,

-history might have been changed and at that touch and

-go period of the war the Central Powers might have

-triumphed. It was with renewed pride and wonder in the

-men who conceived and carried out the wonderful

-enterprise that he crossed back over the deck and set himself

-to the business of landing.</p>

-

-<p>A short run past the sandhills at the coast and across

-the flat Belgian fields brought the spires of Bruges into

-view, and slowly rounding a sharp curve through the

-gardens of the houses in the suburbs, they joined the main line

-from Ostend, and a few minutes later entered the station.

-Emerging on to the wide boulevard in front, French’s

-eyes fell on a bus bearing the legend “Grand Hôtel du

-Sablon,” and getting in, he was driven across the

-boulevard and a short way up a long, rather narrow and

-winding street, between houses some of which seemed to have

-stood unaltered—and doubtless had—for six hundred

-years, when Bruges, three times its present size, was the

-chief trading city of the Hanseatic League. As he turned

-into the hotel, chimes rang out—from the famous belfry,

-the porter told him—tinkling, high-pitched bells and

-silvery, if a trifle thin in the clear morning air.</p>

-

-<p>He called for some breakfast, and as he was consuming

-it the anticipated delights of sight-seeing receded, and

-interest in the movements of James Dangle became once

-more paramount. He was proud of his solution of the

-problem of the torn hotel bill, and not for a moment had

-a doubt of the correctness of that solution entered his

-head.</p>

-

-<p>It came upon him therefore as a devastating shock when

-the courteous manager of the hotel, with whom he had

-asked an interview, assured him not only that no such

-person as the original of the photograph he had presented

-had ever visited his establishment, but that the fragment

-of the bill was not his.</p>

-

-<p>To French it seemed as if the bottom had fallen out of

-his world. He had been so sure of his ground; all his

-reasoning about the stamp, the size of the hotel and town and

-lengths of their names had seemed so convincing and

-unassailable. And the names Grand Hôtel du Sablon and

-Bruges had worked in so well! More important still, no

-other hotel seemed to fill the bill. French felt cast down to

-the lowest depths of despair, and for a time he could only

-stare speechlessly at the manager.</p>

-

-<p>At last he smiled rather ruefully.</p>

-

-<p>“That’s rather a blow,” he confessed. “I was pretty sure

-of my ground. Indeed, so sure was I, that if I might

-without offense, I should like to ask you again if there is no

-possibility that the man might have been here, say, during

-your absence.”</p>

-

-<p>The manager was sympathetic. He brought French a

-sample of his bill, stamped with his rubber receipt stamp,

-and French saw at once their dissimilarity with those he

-had been studying. Moreover, the manager assured him

-that neither had been altered for several years.</p>

-

-<p>So he was no further on! French lit a cigar, and retiring

-to a deserted corner of the salon, sat down to think the

-thing out.</p>

-

-<p>What was he to do next? Was he to return to London by

-the next boat, giving up the search and admitting defeat,

-or was there any possible alternative? He set his teeth as he

-swore great oaths that nothing short of the direct need

-would lead him to abandon his efforts until he had found

-the hotel, and learned Dangle’s secret.</p>

-

-<p>But heroics were all very well: what, in point of fact

-was he to do? He sat considering the problem for an hour,

-and at the end of that time he had decided to go to

-Brussels, borrow or buy a Belgian hotel guide, and go through

-it page by page until he found what he wanted. If none

-of the hotels given suited, he would go on to Paris and try

-a similar experiment.</p>

-

-<p>This decision he reached only after long consideration,

-not because it was not obvious—it had instantly occurred

-to him—but because he was convinced that the methods

-he had already tried had completely covered the ground.

-He had proved that there was no hotel whose name ended

-in . . . lon in a fair-sized town whose name ended

-in . . . s in all the district in question, other than the

-Grand Hôtel du Sablon at Bruges. There still remained,

-however, the chance that it might be a southern French or

-Swiss hotel, and he saw that he would have to make sure

-of this before returning to London.</p>

-

-<p>Still buried in thought, he walked slowly back to the

-station to look up trains to Brussels. The fact that he was

-in the most interesting town in Belgium no longer stirred

-his pulse. His disappointment and anxiety about his case

-drove all irrelevant matters from his mind, and he felt

-that all he wanted now was to be at work again to

-retrieve his error.</p>

-

-<p>He reached the station, and began searching the huge

-timetable boards for the train he wanted. He was

-interested to notice that the tables were published in two

-languages, French and what he thought at first was Dutch,

-but concluded later must be Flemish. Idly he compared

-the different spelling of the names of the towns. Brugge

-and Bruges, Gent and Gand, Brussel and Bruxelles,

-Oostende and Ostende, and then suddenly he came up

-as it were all standing, and a sudden wave of excitement

-passed over him as he stood regarding another pair of

-names. Antwerpen and Anvers! Anvers! A six lettered

-town ending in s! He cursed himself for his stupidity. He

-had always thought of the place as Antwerp, but he ought

-to have known its French name. Anvers! Once more he

-was alert and full of eager optimism. Had he got it at

-last?</p>

-

-<p>He passed through on to the platform, and making for

-a door headed “Chef de Gare,” asked for the stationmaster.

-There, after a moment’s delay, he was shown into the

-presence of an imposing individual in gold lace, who,

-however, was not too important to listen to him carefully and

-reply courteously in somewhat halting English. Monsieur

-wished to know if there was an hotel whose name ended

-in . . . lon in Antwerp? He could not recall one off hand,

-but he would look up the advertisements in his guides and

-tourist programs. Ah, what was this? The Grand Hôtel du

-Carillon. Was that what monsieur required?</p>

-

-<p>A name of twenty letters—which would exactly fill the

-space on the receipt stamp! It certainly was what

-monsieur required! The very idea raised monsieur to an exalted

-pitch of delighted enthusiasm. The stationmaster was

-gratified at the reception of his information.</p>

-

-<p>“I haf been at the ’otel myself,” he volunteered. “It is

-small, but vair’ goot. It is in the Place Verte, near to the

-Cathedral. Does monsieur know Antwerp?”</p>

-

-<p>Monsieur did not, but he expressed the pleasure it would

-give him to make its acquaintance, and thanking the polite

-official he returned to the timetables to look up the trains

-thither.</p>

-

-<p>His most direct way, it appeared, was through Ghent

-and Termonde, but on working out the services he found

-he could get quicker trains via Brussels. He therefore

-booked by that route, and at 11:51 he climbed into a great

-through express from Ostend to Brussels, Aix-la-Chapelle,

-Strasbourg, and, it seemed to him, the whole of the rest

-of Europe. An hour and a half’s run brought him into

-Brussels-Nord, and from there he wandered out into the

-Place Rogier for lunch. Then returning to the station he

-took an express for Antwerp, arriving in the central

-terminus of that city a few minutes after three o’clock.</p>

-

-<p>He had bought a map of Antwerp at a bookstall in

-Brussels, from which he had learned that the Place Verte

-was nearly a mile away in the direction of the river. His

-traveling impedimenta consisting of a handbag only, he

-determined to walk, and emerging from the great marble

-hall of the station, he passed down the busy Avenue de

-Keyser, and along the Place de Meir into the older part of

-the town. As he walked he was immensely impressed by

-the fine wide streets, the ornate buildings, and the

-excellence of the shops. Everywhere were evidences of wealth

-and prosperity, and as he turned into the Place Verte, and

-looked across at the huge bulk of the Cathedral with its

-soaring spire, he felt that here was an artistic treasure of

-which any city might well be proud.</p>

-

-<p>The Grand Hôtel du Carillon was an old, quaint

-looking building looking out over the Place Verte. French,

-entering, called for a bock in the restaurant, and after

-he had finished, asked to see the manager. A moment later

-a small, stout man with a humorous eye appeared, bowed

-low, and said that he was M. Marquet, the proprietor.</p>

-

-<p>“A word with you in private, M. Marquet,” French

-requested, when they had exchanged confidences on the

-weather. “Won’t you take something with me?”</p>

-

-<p>The proprietor signified his willingness in excellent

-English, and when further drinks had been brought, and

-French had satisfied himself that they were alone, he went

-on:</p>

-

-<p>“I am a detective officer from the London police, and I

-am trying to trace an Englishman called Dangle. I have

-reason to suppose he stayed at this hotel recently. There is

-his photograph. Can you help me at all?”</p>

-

-<p>At the name Dangle, M. Marquet had nodded, and

-when he saw the photograph he beamed and his whole

-body became affirmation personified. But certainly, he

-knew M. Dangle. For several weeks—he could not say

-how many, but he could ascertain from his records—for

-several weeks M. Dangle had been his guest at intervals.

-Sometimes he had stayed one night, sometimes two,

-sometimes three. Yes, he was usually alone, but not always.

-On three or four occasions he had been accompanied by

-another gentleman—a tall, well-built, clean-shaven man,

-and once a third man had come, a short man with a fair

-mustache. Yes, that was the photograph of the short man,

-M.—? Yes; Blessington. The other man’s name he could

-not remember, but it would appear in the register: Sile,

-Site—something like that. Yes, Sime: that was it. No, he

-was afraid he knew nothing about these gentlemen or

-their business, but he would be glad to do everything in

-his power to assist monsieur.</p>

-

-<p>French, his enthusiasm and delight remaining at fever

-heat, was suitably grateful. He wished just to ask M. Marquet

-a few more questions. He would like to know the last

-occasion on which M. Dangle had stayed.</p>

-

-<p>“Why,” M. Marquet exclaimed, “he just left yesterday.

-He came here, let me see, on Tuesday night quite late,

-indeed it was nearly one on Wednesday morning when he

-arrived. He came, he said, off the English boat train which

-arrives here about midnight. He stayed here two days—till

-yesterday, Thursday. He left yesterday shortly after

-déjeuner.”</p>

-

-<p>“He was alone?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, monsieur. This time he was alone.”</p>

-

-<p>French, metaphorically speaking, hugged himself on

-hearing this news. Through his brilliant work with the

-torn bill, he had added one more fine achievement to the

-long list of his successes. He could not but believe that the

-most doubtful and difficult step of the investigation had

-now been accomplished. With a trail only twenty four

-hours old, he should surely be able to put his hands on

-Dangle with but little delay. Moreover, from the fact that

-so many visits had been paid to Antwerp it looked as if

-the secret of the gang was hidden in the city. Greatly

-reassured, he proceeded to acquire details.</p>

-

-<p>He began by obtaining from M. Marquet’s records lists

-of the visits of the three men, and that gentleman’s

-identification of the torn bill. Also he pressed him as to whether

-he could not remember any questions or conversations

-of the trio which might give him a hint as to their business,

-but without success. He saw and made a detailed search

-of the room Dangle had occupied during his last visit, but

-here again with no result. Dangle, M. Marquet said, had

-been out all day on the Wednesday, the day after his

-arrival, but on Thursday he had remained in the hotel

-until his departure about 2:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> M. Marquet had not

-seen him leave, but he had sent the waiter for his bill after

-déjeuner, and the proprietor believed he had gone a little

-later. Possibly the porter could give more information on

-the point.</p>

-

-<p>The porter was sent for and questioned. He knew M.

-Dangle well and recognized his photograph. He had been

-present in the hall when the gentleman left on the previous

-day, shortly before two o’clock. M. Dangle had walked

-out of the hotel with his suitcase in his hand, declining

-the porter’s offer to carry it for him or call a taxi. The

-trams, however, passed the door, and the porter had

-assumed M. Dangle intended to travel by that means. No,

-he had not noticed the direction he took. There was a

-“stillstand” or tramway halt close by. Dangle had not

-talked to the porter further than to wish him good-day

-when he met him. He had not asked questions, or given

-any hint of his business in the town.</p>

-

-<p>Following his usual procedure under such circumstances,

-French next asked for interviews with all those of the staff

-who had come in any way in contract with his quarry, but

-in spite of his most persistent efforts he could not extract

-a single item of information as to the man’s business or

-movements.</p>

-

-<p>Baffled and weary from his journey, French took his hat

-and went out in the hope that a walk through the streets

-of the fine old city would clear his brain and bring him

-the inspiration he needed. Crossing beneath the trees of

-the Place Verte, he passed round the cathedral to the small

-square from which he could look up at the huge bulk of

-the west front, with its two unequal towers, one a

-climbing marvel of decoration, “lace in stone,” the other

-unfinished, and topped with a small and evidently temporary

-spire. Then, promising himself a look round the interior

-before leaving the town, he regained the tramline from

-the Place Verte, and following it westwards, in two or

-three minutes came out on the great terraces lining the

-banks of the river.</p>

-

-<p>The first sight of the Scheldt was one which French felt

-he would not soon forget. Well on to half a mile wide, it

-bore away in both directions like a great highway leading

-from this little Belgium to the uttermost parts of the earth.

-Large ships lay at anchor in it, as well as clustering along

-the wharves to the south. This river frontage of wharves

-and sheds and cranes and great steamers extended as far

-as the eye could reach; he had read that it was three and

-a half miles long. And that excluded the huge docks for

-which the town was famous. As he strolled along he

-became profoundly impressed, not only with the size of

-the place, but more particularly with the attention which

-had been given to its artistic side. In spite of all this

-commercial activity the city did not look sordid. Thought had

-been given to its design; one might almost say loving care.

-Why, these very terraces on which he was walking, with

-their cafés and their splendid view of the river, were

-formed on neither more nor less than the vast roofs of the

-dock sheds. French, who knew most of the English ports,

-felt his amazement grow at every step.</p>

-

-<p>He followed the quays right across the town till he came

-to the Gare du Sud, then turning away from the river, he

-found himself in the Avenue du Sud. From this he worked

-back along the line of great avenues which had replaced

-the earlier fortifications, until eventually, nearly three

-hours after he had started, he once again turned into the

-Place Verte, and reached the Carillon.</p>

-

-<p>He ordered a room for the night, and some strong tea,

-after which he sat on in his secluded corner of the

-comfortable restaurant, and smoked a meditative cigar. His

-walk had done him good. His brain had cleared, and the

-weariness of the journey, and the chagrin of his deadlock

-had vanished. His thoughts returned to his problem, which

-he began to attack in the new.</p>

-

-<p>He puzzled over it for the best part of an hour, without

-making the slightest progress, and then he began to

-consider how far the ideas he had already arrived at fitted in

-with what he had since learned of Dangle’s movements.</p>

-

-<p>He had thought that the nature of the articles on

-Dangle’s list suggested a sea expedition. He remembered the

-delight with which, many years earlier, he had read <i>The

-Riddle of the Sands</i>, and he thought that had Dangle

-contemplated just such another cruise as that of the heroes of

-that fascinating book, he might well have got together the

-articles in question. But since these ideas had passed

-through his mind, French had learned the following fresh

-facts:</p>

-

-<p>1. From a fortnight after obtaining the tracing, Dangle

-had been paying frequent visits to Antwerp.</p>

-

-<p>2. He had on these occasions put up at the Carillon.</p>

-

-<p>3. His last visit had followed immediately on the failure

-to murder Cheyne, with its almost certain result of the

-calling in of Scotland Yard.</p>

-

-<p>4. He had on this last visit remained at the Carillon

-for two days, leaving about 2:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> on the Thursday,

-the previous day.</p>

-

-<p>5. He had carried his hand-bag from the hotel, without

-calling for a taxi.</p>

-

-<p>At first French could not see that these additional facts

-had any bearing on his theory, but as he continued

-turning them over in his mind, he realized that all but one

-might be interpreted as tending in the same direction.</p>

-

-<p>1. Dangle’s visits to Antwerp. Supposing Dangle had

-been planning some secret marine expedition, where,

-French asked himself, could he have found a more suitable

-base from which to make his arrangements? Antwerp was

-a seaport: moreover, it was a great seaport, large enough

-for a secret expedition to set sail from without attracting

-notice. It was a foreign port, away from the inquisitive

-notice of the British police, but, on the other hand, it was

-the nearest great port to London. If these considerations

-did not back up his theory, they at least did not conflict

-with it.</p>

-

-<p>2. Why had Dangle put up at the Carillon? The hotels

-near the station were the obvious ones for English visitors.

-Could it be because the Place Verte was close to the river

-and the shipping? This, French admitted to himself,

-sounded farfetched, and yet it might be the truth.</p>

-

-<p>3. The dispersal and disappearance of the gang

-immediately on the probability of its activities becoming known

-to the police looked suspiciously like a flight.</p>

-

-<p>4. Could it be that Dangle’s arrival in Antwerp was

-ahead of schedule, that is, the flight brought him there two

-days before the expedition was to start? Or could it be that

-on his arrival he immediately set to work to organize the

-departure, but was unable to complete his arrangements

-for two days? At least, it might be so.</p>

-

-<p>Lastly, had he carried his bag from the hotel for the

-same reason as he might have chosen the hotel: that he

-was going, not to the station, but the few hundred yards

-to the quays, thence to start on this maritime expedition?

-Again, it might be so.</p>

-

-<p>French was fully aware that the whole of these elaborate

-considerations had the actual stability of a house of

-cards. Each and every one of his deductions might be

-erroneous and the facts might be capable of an entirely

-different construction. Still, there was at least a suggestion

-that Dangle might have left Antwerp by water shortly

-after two o’clock on the previous day. It was the one

-constructive idea French could evolve, and he decided that

-in the absence of anything better he would try to follow

-it up.</p>

-

-<p>It was too late to do anything that night. After dinner,

-therefore, he had another walk, spent an hour in a

-cinema, and then went early to bed, so as to be fresh for

-his labors of the following day.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch17">

-

-<h2>Chapter XVII. <br> On the Flood Tide</h2>

-

-<p>French was astir betimes next morning, and over his

-coffee and rolls and honey he laid his plans for the day.

-As to the next step of his investigation he had no doubt.

-He must begin by finding out what vessels had left the

-city after 2:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> on the previous Thursday. That

-done, he could go into the question of the passengers each

-carried, in the hope of learning that Dangle was among

-them.</p>

-

-<p>At the outset he was faced by the handicap of being a

-stranger in a strange land. If Antwerp had been an

-English port he would have known just where to get his

-information, but here he was unfamiliar with the ropes. He did

-not know if all sailings were published in any paper or

-available to the public at any office; moreover, his

-ignorance of both French and Flemish precluded his mixing

-with clerks or dock loafers from whom he might pick up

-information. Of course there were the Belgian police, but

-he did not wish to apply to them if he could carry out his

-job by himself.</p>

-

-<p>However, this part of his problem proved easier of

-solution than he had expected. Inquiries at the post office

-revealed the fact that there was a shipping agency in the

-Rue des Tanneurs, and soon he had reached the place,

-found a clerk who spoke English, and put his question.</p>

-

-<p>When French wished to be suave, as he usually did, he

-could, so to speak, have wheedled his best bone from a

-bulldog. Now, explaining in a friendly and confidential

-manner who he was and why he wanted the information,

-he begged the other’s good offices. The clerk, flattered at

-being thus courteously approached, showed a willingness

-to assist, with the result that in ten minutes French had

-the particulars he needed.</p>

-

-<p>He turned into a café, and calling for a bock, sat down

-to consider what he had learned. And of this the very first

-fact filled him with delight, as it seemed to fit in with the

-theory he had evolved.</p>

-

-<p>On Thursday it had been high water at 2:30 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> By

-2:30 the dock gates had been opened, and it appeared

-that, taking advantage of this, several steamers had left

-shortly after that hour.</p>

-

-<p>This was distinctly encouraging, and French turned to

-the list of ships with a growing hope that the end of his

-investigation might be coming into sight. In all, eleven

-steamers had left the port on the day in question, between

-the hours of 2:00 and 6:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span>, the period he had

-included in his inquiry.</p>

-

-<p>There was first of all a Canadian Pacific liner, which

-had sailed from the quays at 3:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span>, and at 3:30 a

-small passenger boat had left for Oslo and Bergen. The remaining

-boats were tramps. There were four coasters, two for

-Newcastle, one for Goole, and one for Belfast, a 6,000

-tonner for Singapore and the Dutch Islands, another

-slightly smaller ship for Genoa and Spezia, and another

-for Boston, U.S.A. Then there was a big five-masted sailing

-ship, bound with a general cargo for Buenos Aires and

-the River Platte, and finally there was a small freighter in

-ballast for Casablanca.</p>

-

-<p>Of these eleven ships, the windjammer at once

-attracted French’s attention. Here was a vessel on which, if

-you took a passage, you might easily require three dozen

-tins of peaches before you reached your journey’s end. He

-determined to begin with this, taking the other ships in

-order according to the position of their offices. Fortunately

-in each case the clerk had given him the name of the

-owners or agents.</p>

-

-<p>His first call, therefore, was at an old-fashioned office

-in a small street close to the Steen Museum. There he

-saw M. Leblanc, the owner of the windjammer, and

-explained his business. But M. Leblanc could not help

-him. The old gentleman had never heard of Dangle nor

-had any one resembling his visitor’s photograph called or

-done any business with his firm. Moreover, no passengers

-had shipped on the windjammer, and the crew that had

-sailed was unchanged since the previous voyage.</p>

-

-<p>This was not encouraging, and French went on to the

-next item on his program, the headquarters of the small

-freighter which had sailed in ballast for Casablanca. She

-was owned by Messrs. Merkel &amp; Lowenthal, whose office

-was farther down the Rue des Tanneurs, and five minutes

-later he had pushed open the door and was inquiring for

-the principal.</p>

-

-<p>This was a more modern establishment than that of M.

-Leblanc. Though small, the office ran to plate glass

-windows, teak furniture, polished brass fittings, and encaustic

-tiles, while the two typists he could envisage through the

-small inquiry window seemed unduly gorgeous as to

-raiment and pert as to demeanor.</p>

-

-<p>He was kept waiting for some minutes, then told that

-M. Merkel, the head of the business, was away, but that

-M. Lowenthal, the junior partner, would see him.</p>

-

-<p>His first glance told French that M. Lowenthal was a

-man to be watched. Seldom had he seen so many of the

-tell-tale signs of roguery concentrated in the features of

-one person. The junior partner had a mean, sly look, close-set,

-shifty eyes which would not meet French’s, and a large

-mouth with loose, fleshy lips. His manner was in accord

-with his appearance, now blustering, now almost

-fulsomely ingratiating. French took an instant dislike to him,

-and though he remained courteous as ever, he determined

-not to lay his cards on the table.</p>

-

-<p>“My name,” he began, “as you will have seen from my

-card, is French, and I carry out the business of a general

-agent in London. I am trying to obtain an interview with

-a friend, who has been staying here, off and on, for some

-time. I came on here from Brussels in the hope of seeing

-him, but he had just left. I was told that he had sailed

-with your ship, the <i>L’Escaut</i>, on Thursday afternoon, and

-if so I called to ask at which port I should be likely to get

-in touch with him. His name is Dangle.”</p>

-

-<p>While French spoke he watched the other narrowly, on

-his favorite theory that the involuntary replies to

-unexpected remarks—starts, changes of expression, sudden

-pallors—were more valuable than spoken answers.</p>

-

-<p>But M. Lowenthal betrayed no emotion other than a

-mild surprise.</p>

-

-<p>“That iss a very egstraordinary statement, sir,” he said

-in heavy guttural tones. “I do not really know who could

-haf given you such misleading information. Your friend’s

-name is quite unknown to me, and in any case we do not

-take passengers on our ships.”</p>

-

-<p>This seemed an entirely reasonable and proper reply,

-and yet to French’s highly developed instincts it did not

-ring true. However, he could do nothing more, and after

-a little further conversation containing not a few veiled

-inquiries, all of which, he noted, were skillfully parried by

-the other, he apologized for his mistake and withdrew.</p>

-

-<p>Though he was dissatisfied with the interview, he could

-only continue his program. He recognized that the

-secret might be located in Canada or the States, and that

-Dangle might have booked on the C.P.R. liner. Or he

-might have gone to Norway—indeed, for the matter of

-that, he might have signed on on any of the ships for any

-part of the world.</p>

-

-<p>But after a tedious morning of calls and interviews,

-French had to confess defeat. He could get no farther. At

-none of the offices at which he applied had he obtained the

-slightest helpful hint. It began to look as if he had been

-mistaken as to Dangle’s sea expedition, and if so, as he

-reminded himself with exasperation, he had no alternative

-theory to follow up.</p>

-

-<p>He strolled slowly along the pleasant, sunlit streets, as

-he reviewed his morning’s work. He was satisfied with all

-his interviews but the one. Everywhere save in M.

-Lowenthal’s office he felt he had been told the truth. But

-instinctively he distrusted the junior partner. That the man had

-lied to him he had no reason to suspect, but he had no

-doubt that he would do so if it suited his book.</p>

-

-<p>French felt that it was unsatisfactory to leave the

-matter in this state, and he presently thought of a simple

-subterfuge whereby it might be cleared up. It was almost the

-lunch hour, a suitable time for putting his project into

-operation. He hurried back to the Rue des Tanneurs, and

-turning into a café nearly opposite Messrs. Merkel &amp;

-Lowenthal’s premises, ordered a bock and selected a seat

-from which he could observe the office door.</p>

-

-<p>He was only just in time. He had not taken his place

-five minutes when he saw M. Lowenthal emerge and walk

-off towards the center of the town. Three men clerks and

-the two rapid-looking typists followed, and lastly there

-appeared the person for whom he was waiting—the sharp-looking

-office boy who had attended to him earlier in the

-day.</p>

-

-<p>The boy turned off in the opposite direction to his

-principal—towards a quarter inhabited by laborers and

-artisans, and French, getting up from his table, slipped

-quietly out of the café and followed him.</p>

-

-<p>The chase continued for some ten minutes, when the

-quarry disappeared into a small house in a back street.

-French strolled up and down until some half an hour

-later the young fellow reappeared. As he approached

-French allowed a look of recognition and slight surprise

-to appear on his features.</p>

-

-<p>“Ah,” he said, pausing with a friendly smile, “you are

-the clerk who attended to me this morning in Messrs.

-Merkel &amp; Lowenthal’s office, are you not? A piece of luck

-meeting you! I wonder if you could give me a piece of

-information? I forgot to ask it of M. Lowenthal this morning,

-and as I am in a hurry, it would be worth five francs to

-me not to have to go back to your office.”</p>

-

-<p>The youth’s eyes had brightened at the suggestion of

-financial dealings, and French felt he would learn all the

-other could tell him. He therefore continued without

-waiting for a reply.</p>

-

-<p>“The thing is this: I am joining my friend, M. Dangle,

-aboard the <i>L’Escaut</i> at the first opportunity. It was

-arranged between us that one of us should take with him

-a couple of dozen of champagne. I want to know whether

-he took the stuff, or whether I am to. Can you help me at

-all?”</p>

-

-<p>The clerk’s English, though fairly good, was not quite

-equal to such a strain, and French had to repeat himself

-less idiomatically. But the boy grasped his meaning at

-last, and then at once dashed his hopes by saying he had

-never heard of any M. Dangle.</p>

-

-<p>“There he is,” French went on, producing his

-photograph. “You must have seen him scores of times.”</p>

-

-<p>And then French got the reward of his pertinacity. A

-look of recognition passed over the clerk’s features, and he

-made a gesture of comprehension.</p>

-

-<p>“<i>Mais oui, m’sieur</i>; yes, sir,” he answered quickly, “but

-that is not M. Danggalle. I know him: it is M. Charles.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s right,” French returned, trying to keep the

-triumph out of his voice. “His name is Dangle Charles. I

-know him as M. Dangle, because he is one of four brothers

-at our works. But of course he would give his name here as

-M. Charles. But now, can you tell me anything about the

-champagne?”</p>

-

-<p>The clerk shook his head. He had not known upon what

-business M. Charles had called at the office.</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, well, it can’t be helped,” French declared. “I

-thought that perhaps when he was in with you last

-Wednesday you might have heard something about it. You

-don’t know what luggage he took aboard the <i>L’Escaut</i>?”</p>

-

-<p>The clerk had not been aware that M. Charles had

-embarked on the freighter, still less did he know of what

-his luggage had consisted. But as French talked on in his

-pleasant way, the following facts became apparent; first,

-that Dangle for some weeks past had been an occasional

-visitor at the shipping office; second, that on the previous

-Wednesday he had been closeted with the partners for the

-greater part of the day; third, that the <i>L’Escaut</i> had

-evidently sailed on an expedition of considerable importance

-and length, for a vast deal of stores had gone aboard her,

-about which both partners had shown very keen anxiety;

-fourthly, that not only had M. Merkel, the senior partner,

-himself sailed on her, but it was likely that he intended to

-be away some time as M. Lowenthal had moved into his

-room, and lastly, that the <i>L’Escaut</i> had come up from the

-firm’s yard during the Wednesday night and had anchored

-in the river off the Steen until she left about 3:00 <span

-class="sc">p.m.</span> on the Thursday.</p>

-

-<p>These admissions made it abundantly clear that French

-was once more on the right track, and he handed over his

-five francs with the feeling that he had made the cheapest

-bargain of his life.</p>

-

-<p>He had no doubt that Dangle had sailed with the senior

-partner on the tramp, but he felt he must make sure, and

-he walked slowly back towards the quays, turning over in

-his mind possible methods for settling the point. One

-inquiry seemed promising. If the ship had lain at anchor

-out in the river, and if Dangle had gone aboard her, he

-must have had a boat to do so. French wondered could he

-find that boat.</p>

-

-<p>He felt himself held up by the language difficulty. Up to

-the present he had had extraordinary luck in this respect,

-but then up to the present he had been interviewing

-educated persons whose business brought them in contact with

-foreigners. He doubted if he could make boatmen and

-loafers about the quays understand what he wanted.</p>

-

-<p>A trial convinced him that his fears were well founded,

-and he lost a solid hour in finding the Berlitz School and

-engaging a young linguist with a reputation for discretion.

-Then, accompanied by M. Jules Renard, he returned to

-the quays and set systematically to work. He began by

-inquiring where boats might be hired, and where there

-were steps at which ships’ boats might come alongside.

-Taking these in turn he asked had the boatmen taken a

-passenger out to the <i>L’Escaut</i> between 2:00 and 3:00 <span

-class="sc">p.m.</span> on the previous Thursday? Or had the loafer, stevedore,

-shunter, or constable, as the case might be, noticed if a

-boat had come ashore from the same vessel on the same

-date and at the same time?</p>

-

-<p>Though the work was easy it bade fair to be tedious,

-and therefore for more than one reason French felt a glow

-of satisfaction when at his fourth inquiry his question

-received an affirmative answer. A wizened old man, one of

-a small knot of longshoremen whom M. Renard addressed,

-separated himself from his companions and came forward.

-He said that he was a boatman, and that he had been

-hailed by a man—an Englishman, he believed—at the time

-stated, and had rowed him out to the ship.</p>

-

-<p>“Ask him if that’s the man,” French directed, producing

-Dangle’s photograph, though he felt there could be no

-doubt as to the reply.</p>

-

-<p>He was therefore immensely dashed when the boatman

-shook his head. This was not the man at all. The traveler

-was a short, rather stout man with a small fair mustache.</p>

-

-<p>French gasped. The description sounded familiar.

-Taking out Blessington’s photograph he passed it over.</p>

-

-<p>This time the boatman nodded. Yes, that was the man

-he had rowed out. He had no doubt of him whatever.</p>

-

-<p>This was unexpected but most welcome news, though as

-French thought over it, he saw that it was not so surprising

-after all. If Dangle was in it, why not Blessington, and for

-the matter of that, why not Sime also? In this case he

-wondered where Susan could be, and more acutely, what

-had been the fate of Joan Merrill. Possibly, he thought, his

-inquiries about Dangle would solve these questions also.</p>

-

-<p>Half an hour later he struck oil for the second time.

-Another boatman, a little further along the quays, had

-also rowed a passenger out to the <i>L’Escaut</i>, and this one, it

-appeared, was Dangle. But though French kept working

-steadily away, he could hear nothing of Sime.</p>

-

-<p>In the end it was a suggestion of Renard’s that put him

-once more on the trail. The interpreter proved an

-intelligent youth, and when he had grasped the point at issue,

-he stopped and pointed to the river.</p>

-

-<p>“You say, monsieur, that the sheep, she lie there, opposite

-the Musée Steen, is it not so? <i>Bon!</i> We haf walked along

-all the quays near to that. Your friends would not haf

-hired boat from farther on—it is too far. You say, too, they

-come from England secretly, is it not? <i>Bon!</i> They would

-come to the other side.”</p>

-

-<p>French did not understand.</p>

-

-<p>“The other side?” he repeated questioningly.</p>

-

-<p>“But yes, monsieur, the other side.” The young fellow’s

-eyes flashed in his eagerness. “Over there, La Gare de

-Waes.” He pointed out across the great stream to its west

-bank.</p>

-

-<p>“I didn’t know there was a station across there,” French

-admitted. “Where does the line go to?”</p>

-

-<p>“Direct to Ghent. Your friends change trains at Ghent.

-It is a quiet railway. They come unseen.”</p>

-

-<p>“Good man,” said French heartily. “We’ll go and find out.

-How do you get to the blessed place?”</p>

-

-<p>M. Renard smiled delightedly.</p>

-

-<p>“Ah yes, monsieur. You weesh to cross? Is it not?” he

-cried. “This way. We take ferry from the Quai Van Dyck.

-It is near.”</p>

-

-<p>Half an hour later they had reached the Tête de Flandre—the

-low-lying western bank of the Scheldt. It bore a

-small but not unpicturesque cluster of old-fashioned houses,

-nestling about one of the historic Antwerp forts. Renard,

-now apparently quite as interested in the chase as French,

-led the way along the river bank from boatman to

-boatman, with the result that before very many minutes had

-passed French had obtained the information he wanted.</p>

-

-<p>It appeared that about 1:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> on the day in

-question, a strapping young boatman had noticed three strangers

-approaching from the direction of the Waes Station, a

-hundred yards or more distant. They consisted of a tall,

-clean-shaven man of something under middle age and two

-women, both young. One was tall and strongly made and

-dark as to hair and eyes, the other was slighter and with

-red gold hair. The smaller one seemed to be ill, and was

-stumbling along between the other two, each of whom

-supported her by an arm. None of the trio could speak

-French or Flemish, but they managed by signs to convey

-the information that they wanted to be put on board

-the <i>L’Escaut</i>, which was lying out in midstream. The man

-had rowed them out, and they had been received on board

-by an elderly gentleman with a dark beard.</p>

-

-<p>Further questions produced the information that the fair

-lady appeared to be seriously ill, though whether it was her

-mind or body that was affected, the boatman couldn’t be

-sure. She was able to walk, but would not do so unless

-urged on by the others. She had not spoken or taken any

-interest in the journey. She had not appeared even to look

-round her, but had sat gazing listlessly at nothing, with a

-vacant expression in her eyes. Her companions had had

-real difficulty in getting her up the short ladder on to

-the <i>L’Escaut’s</i> deck.</p>

-

-<p>The news was rather unexpected to French. About Joan

-Merrill it was both disconcerting and reassuring; the

-former because he could not see that the gang had anything

-but a sinister reason for inveigling the young girl aboard

-the ship—probably she will fall overboard at night, he

-thought; the latter because she was at least still alive, or

-had been two days ago. It was quite evident that she was

-drugged, probably with morphine or something similar. It

-might, however, mean that while wishing Joan no harm,

-they were taking her with them on their expedition to

-insure her silence as to their movements.</p>

-

-<p>As French returned across the ferry, he kept on puzzling

-as to Lowenthal’s position. Could Lowenthal be arrested?

-Was he in league with the gang? If so, could he be held

-responsible for the abduction of Joan Merrill? French

-didn’t think the evidence would justify drastic measures.

-He had, as a matter of fact, no actual evidence against

-Lowenthal. Of his complicity he was satisfied, but he

-doubted if he could prove it.</p>

-

-<p>He got rid of the young interpreter, and strolling slowly

-along the quays, thought the matter out. No, he had not a

-enough case with which to go to the Belgian police.

-But he could do the next best thing. He could call on

-M. Lowenthal for the second time, and try to bluff an

-admission out of him.</p>

-

-<p>As he walked to the Rue des Tanneurs, he felt his

-prospects were not rosy. But at least he had no difficulty in

-obtaining his interview. M. Lowenthal seemed surprised to

-see him so soon again, but received him politely, and asked

-what he could do for him.</p>

-

-<p>“I want to ask you another question, M. Lowenthal, if

-you please,” French answered in his pleasantest manner,

-“and first I must tell you that the agency I hold is that

-of Detective Inspector at New Scotland Yard in London.

-My question is this: When you and M. Merkel entered

-into relations with Blessington, Sime, and the Dangles, did

-you know that they were dangerous criminals wanted by

-the English police?”</p>

-

-<p>In spite of the most evident efforts for self-control,

-Lowenthal was so much taken aback that he could not for

-some moments speak. His swarthy face turned a greenish

-hue and little drops of sweat showed on his forehead. To

-the other pleasant characteristics with which French had

-mentally endowed him, he now added that of coward, and

-his hopes of his bluff succeeding grew brighter. He sat

-waiting in silence for the other to recover himself, then

-said suavely:</p>

-

-<p>“After that, M. Lowenthal, you will see for yourself that

-you cannot plead ignorance of the affair. Let me advise

-you for your own sake to be open with me.”</p>

-

-<p>The man pulled himself together. He wiped his brow as

-he replied earnestly, but in somewhat shaky accents:</p>

-

-<p>“That I haf met Blessington, Sime, and Dangle I do not

-deny, though they were Merkel’s friends—not mine. But I

-do not know that they are criminal. Dangle, he called here

-and asked Merkel to take him on the next”—he hesitated

-for a word—“next work, next sail of the sheep. Merkel

-said that Dangle iss a writer—he writes books. He weeshed

-to see the sail to Casablanca to deescribe it in hiss book.

-Merkel said he would haf to pay fare, the firm could not

-afford it unless. Dangle agreed. Merkel was going himself,

-and Dangle suggested Sime and Blessington go also to

-make party—to play cards. Of a second Dangle I know

-nothing. They went secretly—I admit it—because the law

-forbids to take passengers for sail without a certificate.

-That is all of the affair.”</p>

-

-<p>Not a single word of this statement did French believe,

-but he saw that unless he could get some further

-information, or surprise this Lowenthal into some more damaging

-admission, he could not have him arrested. After all, the

-story hung together. Merkel might conceivably be playing

-his own game, and have pitched the yarn of the author

-out for copy to his partner. The contravention of the

-shipping laws would undoubtedly account for the secrecy with

-which the start was made. Certainly there was no evidence

-to bring before a jury.</p>

-

-<p>French proceeded to question the junior partner with

-considerable thoroughness, but he could not shake his

-statement. The only additional facts he learned were that

-the <i>L’Escaut</i> was going to Casablanca on the order of the

-Moroccan Government to load up a cargo of agricultural

-samples for the Italian market, and that M. Merkel was

-accompanying it simply as a holiday trip.</p>

-

-<p>With this French had to be content, and he went to the

-post office, and got through on the long distance telephone

-to his chief at the Yard. To him he repeated the essentials

-of the tale, asking him to inquire from the Moroccan

-authorities as to the truth of their portion of it, as well as

-to endeavor to trace the <i>L’Escaut</i>.</p>

-

-<p>On leaving the post office, it occurred to him that

-communication with the <i>L’Escaut</i> should be possible by

-wireless, and he returned to the Rue des Tanneurs to ascertain

-this point. There he was told that just after he had left

-M. Lowenthal had received a telephone call, requiring his

-immediate presence in Holland, and he had with a great

-rush caught the afternoon express for the Dutch capital.</p>

-

-<p>“Skedaddled, by Jove!” said French to himself. “Guess

-that lets in the Belgian police.”</p>

-

-<p>He called at headquarters, and saw the officer in charge,

-and before he left to catch the connection for London, it

-had been arranged that the movements of the junior

-partner should be gone into, and a watch kept for the return

-of that enterprising weaver of fairy tales.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch18">

-

-<h2>Chapter XVIII. <br> A Visitor from India</h2>

-

-<p>When French reached Victoria, the first person he saw on

-the platform was Maxwell Cheyne.</p>

-

-<p>“They told me at the Yard that you might be on this

-train,” the young man said excitedly as he elbowed his

-way forward. “Any news? Anything about Miss Merrill?”</p>

-

-<p>He looked old and worn, and it was evident that his

-anxiety was telling on him. In his eagerness he could

-scarcely wait for the Inspector to dismount from his

-carriage, and his loud tones were attracting curious looks

-from the bystanders.</p>

-

-<p>“Get a taxi,” French answered quietly. “We can talk

-there.”</p>

-

-<p>A few seconds later they found a vehicle, and Cheyne,

-gripping the other by the arm, went on earnestly:</p>

-

-<p>“Tell me. I can see you have learned something. Is she—all

-right?”</p>

-

-<p>“I got news of her on Thursday last. She was all right

-then, though still under the influence of a drug. The whole

-party has gone to sea.”</p>

-

-<p>“To sea?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, to sea in a small tramp. I don’t know what they

-are up to, but there is no reason to suppose Miss Merrill is

-otherwise than well. Probably they took her with them to

-prevent her giving them away. They would drug her to get

-her to go along, but would cease it as soon as she was on

-board. I wired for inquiries to be made at the different

-signal stations, and news may be waiting for us at the

-Yard.”</p>

-

-<p>A few seconds sufficed to put Cheyne in possession of

-the salient facts which French had learned, and the latter

-in his turn asked for news.</p>

-

-<p>“By Jove, yes!” Cheyne cried, “there is news. You

-remember that Arnold Price had disappeared? Well,

-yesterday I had a letter from him!”</p>

-

-<p>“You don’t say so?” French rejoined in surprise.

-“Where did he write from?”</p>

-

-<p>“Bombay. He was shortly leaving for home. He expects

-to be here in about a month.”</p>

-

-<p>“And what about his disappearance?”</p>

-

-<p>“He was ill in hospital. He had gone up to Agra on

-some private business and met with an accident—was

-knocked down in the street and was insensible for ages.

-He couldn’t say who he was, and the hospital people in

-Agra couldn’t find out, and he hadn’t told the Bombay

-people where he was going to spend his leave.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did he mention the letter?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, he thanked me for taking charge of it and said

-that when he reached home he would relieve me of further

-trouble about it. He little knows!”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s so,” French assented.</p>

-

-<p>Their taxi had been held up by a block at the end of

-Westminster Bridge, but now the mass cleared and in a

-few seconds they reached the Yard.</p>

-

-<p>French’s first care was to get rid of Cheyne. He repeated

-what he had learned about Joan Merrill, then, assuring

-him that the key of the matter lay in the cipher, he

-advised him to go home and try it once more. Directly any

-more news came in he would let him know.</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne having reluctantly taken his departure, French

-made inquiries as to what had been done in reference to

-his telephone from Antwerp. It appeared that the Yard

-had not been idle. In the first place an application had

-been made to the Moroccan Government, who had replied

-that no ship had been chartered by them for freight at

-Casablanca, nor was anything known of agricultural

-samples for the Italian market. Lowenthal’s story must

-therefore have been an absolute fabrication. He had, however,

-told it so readily that French suspected it had been made

-up beforehand, so as to be ready to serve up to any

-inquisitive policeman or detective who might come along.</p>

-

-<p>Next Lloyd’s had been approached, as to the direction

-the <i>L’Escaut</i> had taken, and a reply had shortly before

-come in from them. It stated that up to noon on that day,

-the vessel had not been reported from any of their stations.

-But this, French realized, might not mean so much. If she

-had gone south down the English Channel it would have

-been well on to dark before she reached the Straits of Dover.

-In any case, had she wished to slip through unseen, she

-had only to keep out to the middle of the passage, when

-in ordinary weather she would have been invisible from

-either coast. On the other hand, had she gone north, she

-would almost naturally have kept out of sight of land. It

-was true that in either case she would have been likely to

-pass some other vessel which would have spoken her, and

-the fact that no news of such a recognition had come to

-hand seemed to indicate that she was taking some unusual

-course out of the track of regular shipping.</p>

-

-<p>French wired this information to the Antwerp police,

-and then, his chief being disengaged, went in and gave

-him a detailed account of his adventures in Belgium.</p>

-

-<p>Chief Inspector Mitchell was impressed by the story. He

-sat back in his chair and treated French to a prolonged

-stare as the latter talked. At the end of the recital he

-remained sitting motionless for some moments, whistling

-gently below his breath.</p>

-

-<p>“Any theories?” he said at last.</p>

-

-<p>French shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, no, sir,” he answered slowly. “It’s not easy to see

-what they’re after. And it’s not easy to see, either, why the

-whole gang wanted to go. It looked at first as if they were

-just clearing out because of Cheyne’s coming to the Yard,

-but it’s more than that. The arrangements were made too

-long ago. They have been dealing with that Antwerp firm

-for several weeks.”</p>

-

-<p>“The hard copper was all a story?”</p>

-

-<p>“Looks like it, sir. As a matter of fact every single

-statement those men made that could be tested has been proved

-false. Even when there didn’t seem any great object in a

-yarn they pitched it. Lies seemed to come easier to them.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, I’ve known a good few cases of that, and so have

-you, French. It’s a habit that grows. Now, what’s your next

-move?”</p>

-

-<p>French hesitated.</p>

-

-<p>“For the moment the outlook’s not very cheery,” he said

-at last. “All the same I can’t believe that boat can go

-away out of the Scheldt and disappear. In my judgment

-she’s bound to be reported before long, and I’m looking

-forward to getting word of her within the next day or so.

-Then I have no doubt that the tracing is some kind of

-cipher, and if we could read it we should probably get

-light on the whole affair.”</p>

-

-<p>“Why shouldn’t you read it? Try it again.”</p>

-

-<p>“I intend to, sir. But I don’t hope for much result,

-because I don’t believe we’ve got the genuine document.

-I don’t believe they would have handed it, nor a copy of

-it either, to a man they intended to murder, lest it should

-be found on his body. I’d state long odds they gave him

-a fake.”</p>

-

-<p>“I think you’re probably right,” the chief admitted.

-“Try at all events. You never know your luck.”</p>

-

-<p>He bent over his desk, and French, realizing that the

-interview had come to an end, quietly left the room. Then,

-seeing there was nothing requiring his attention urgently,

-and tired after his journey, he went home.</p>

-

-<p>But contrary to his expectations, the next day passed

-without any news of the <i>L’Escaut</i>, and the next, and many

-days after that. Nor could all his efforts with the tracing

-throw any light on that mysterious document. As time

-passed he began to grow more and more despondent, and

-the fear that he was going to make a mess of the case

-grew steadily stronger. In vain he laid his difficulties before

-his wife. For once that final source of inspiration failed

-him. Mrs. French did not take even one illuminating

-notion. When the third week had gone by, something akin

-to despair seized upon the Inspector. The only possibility

-of hope now seemed to lie in the return of Arnold Price,

-and French began counting the days until his arrival.</p>

-

-<p>One night about three weeks after his return from

-Belgium he settled down with a cigar after dinner, his

-thoughts running in their familiar groove: What were

-these people engaged on? Was there any way in which he

-could find out? Had he overlooked any evidence or any

-inquiries? Had he neglected any possible line of research?</p>

-

-<p>The more he considered the affair in all its bearings, the

-more conscious he became of the soundness of the advice

-he had given to Cheyne, and which in his turn he had

-received from his chief. Unquestionably in the tracing lay

-the solution he required, and once again he racked his

-brains to see if he could not by any means devise a way

-to read its message.</p>

-

-<p>On this point he concentrated, going over and over

-again everything he had learned about it. For perhaps an

-hour he remained motionless in his chair, while the smoke

-from his cigar curled up and slowly dissolved into the blue

-haze with which the room was becoming obscured. And

-then suddenly he sat up and with a dawning, tremulous

-eagerness considered an idea which had just leaped into

-his mind.</p>

-

-<p>He had suddenly remembered a statement made by

-Cheyne when he was giving his first rather incoherent

-account of his adventures. The young man said that it had

-been arranged between himself and Joan Merrill that if

-either were lucky enough to get the tracing into his or her

-possession, the first thing he or she would do would be to

-photograph it. Now, in juxtaposition with that statement,

-French recalled the facts, first, that Joan must have

-reached her flat on the night of her abduction at least

-several minutes before Blessington and Sime arrived with

-their car; and secondly, that during those minutes she had

-the tracing with her—the genuine tracing, as there was

-every reason to believe. <em>Had Joan photographed it?</em></p>

-

-<p>French was overwhelmed with amazement and chagrin

-at his failure to think of this point before, nor could he

-acquit Cheyne of a like astounding stupidity. For himself

-he felt there was no excuse whatever. He had even specially

-noticed the girl’s camera and the flashlight apparatus

-which she used for her architectural details when he was

-searching her rooms, but he had then, and since then up

-till this moment, entirely and completely forgotten the

-arrangement made between the partners.</p>

-

-<p>Late as it was, French decided to go then and there to

-ascertain the point. The key of Joan’s flat was at the Yard,

-and twenty minutes later he had obtained it and was in a

-taxi bowling towards Horne Terrace.</p>

-

-<p>He kept the vehicle while he ran up the ten flights to

-No. 12 and secured the camera. Then hastening down, he

-was driven back to the Yard.</p>

-

-<p>By a piece of good luck he found a photographer who

-had been delayed by other important work, and him he

-pressed into the service forthwith. With some grumbling

-the man returned to his dark room. French, too eager to

-await his report, accompanying him.</p>

-

-<p>A few moments sufficed to settle the question. The

-camera contained a roll of films of which the first seven

-had been exposed, and a short immersion in the developer

-showed that numbers 5, 6, and 7 bore the hoped for

-impress.</p>

-

-<p>Gone was French’s despondency and the weariness

-caused by his heavy day, and instead he was once more

-the embodiment of enthusiasm and cheery optimism. He

-had it now! At last the secret was within his grasp! Of his

-ability to read the message, now that he was sure he had

-the genuine one, he had no doubt. He had always liked

-working out ciphers, and since he had succeeded in

-extracting the hidden meaning from the stock and share

-list which had been sent to the elusive Mrs. X in the

-Gething murder case, his belief in his own powers had

-become almost an obsession. He could hardly restrain his

-eagerness to get to grips with this new problem until the

-negatives should be dry and prints made.</p>

-

-<p>The photographer was able to promise these for the

-following day, and till then French had to possess his soul

-in patience. But on his return from lunch he found on his

-desk three excellent prints of the document.</p>

-

-<p>They were only half-plate size, or about one-third that

-of the tracing which had been given to Cheyne. He

-therefore instructed the photographer to prepare enlargements

-which would bring the document up to more nearly the

-size of the original. These were ready before it was time

-for him to leave for home, and he sat down with

-ill-controlled excitement to compare them with the document

-at which he had already spent so much time.</p>

-

-<p>And then he suddenly experienced one of the most bitter

-disappointments of his life. To all intents and purposes the

-two were the same! There were the same circles, the same

-numbers, letters, and signs enclosed therein, the same

-phrase, “England expects every man to do his duty,”

-spaced round in the same way! The tracing had not been

-very accurately done, as some of the circles seemed slightly

-out of place, but the discrepancies were trifling, and

-seemed obviously due to careless copying. He gave vent to

-a single bitter oath, then sat motionless, wrapped in the

-most profound gloom.</p>

-

-<p>He took tracing and photographs home with him, and

-spent the greater part of the evening making a minute

-comparison between the two. The enlargement unfortunately

-was not exactly the same size as the tracing, and

-he therefore began his work by covering the surfaces of

-both with proportionate squares.</p>

-

-<p>Taking the tracing first he drew parallel lines one inch

-apart both up and down it and across, thus covering its

-whole surface with inch squares. Then he divided the

-prints into the same number of equal parts both vertically

-and horizontally and ruled them up in squares also. These

-squares were slightly smaller than the others—about

-seven-eighths of an inch only—but relatively the lines fell on

-each in the same positions. A comparison according to the

-squares thus showed at a glance similarity or otherwise

-between the two documents.</p>

-

-<p>As he examined them in detail certain interesting facts

-began to emerge. The general appearance, the words

-“England expects every man to do his duty,” and the

-circles with their attendant letters and numbers were

-identical on both sheets. But there were striking variations. The

-position of certain of the circles was different. Those

-containing numbers and crooked lines were all slightly out of

-place, while those containing letters remained unmoved.

-Moreover, the little crooked lines, while preserving a rough

-resemblance to the originals, were altered in shape. The

-more he considered the matter the more evident it became

-to French that these divergences were intentional. The

-tracing which had been given to Cheyne was intended to

-resemble the other superficially—and did so resemble it,

-but it had clearly been faked to make it valueless.</p>

-

-<figure>

-  <img src="images/tracing.png"

-       alt="A full-page image of dozens of circles. Their arrangement

-appears to be random. Most circles contains either a letter or a

-number, with the numbers ranging from 1 to 36. Eight or nine circles

-instead contain a short, irregularly-shaped line. Words are placed in

-between the circles, arranged in a loop through the entire image,

-reading clockwise “England expects every man to do his duty”.">

-</figure>

-

-<p>If French were right so far, and he had but little doubt

-of it, it followed that the essential feature of the circles

-and crooked lines was position. This, he felt, should be a

-useful hint, but as yet he could not see where it led.</p>

-

-<p>He pondered fruitlessly over the problem till the small

-hours, and next morning he took the documents back to

-the Yard to continue his studies. But he did not have an

-opportunity to do so. Other work was waiting for him. To

-his delight he found that Arnold Price had reached home,

-and that he and Cheyne were waiting to see him.</p>

-

-<p>Price proved to be a lanky and rather despondent-looking

-individual with a skin burned to the color of

-copper and a pair of exceedingly shrewd blue eyes. He dropped

-into the chair French indicated, and instantly pulled out

-and lit a well-blackened cutty pipe.</p>

-

-<p>“Got in yesterday morning,” he announced laconically,

-“and wired Torquay I was going down. By the merest luck

-I got a reply before I started that Cheyne was in town. I

-looked him up and here I am.”</p>

-

-<p>French smiled pleasantly. Though interested in the man,

-he could not help noting with some amusement at once

-the restraint and the completeness of his statement. How

-refreshing, he thought, and how rare, to meet some one

-who will give you the pith of a story without frills!</p>

-

-<p>“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Price,” he said cordially.

-“I suppose Mr. Cheyne has told you the effect that your

-letter has had on us all?”</p>

-

-<p>The other nodded.</p>

-

-<p>“Not altogether surprising,” he declared. “There’s

-money in the thing—or so I always believed, and this other

-crowd must believe it too; though how they got on to the

-affair licks me.”</p>

-

-<p>“We shall be very much interested to hear what you can

-tell us about it,” French prompted. “Will you smoke, Mr.

-Cheyne?” He held out his cigar case.</p>

-

-<p>“I can’t tell you much,” Price returned, “and nothing

-that will clear up this blessed mystery that seems to have

-started up. But this is my story for what it’s worth. Before

-the war I was on one of the Hudson and Spence boats

-and I had the luck to get into the R.N.R. when hostilities

-broke out. I stayed on in my old ship till she was torpedoed

-a couple of years later, then I was appointed third officer

-on the <i>Maurania</i>. We were on a trip from South Africa to

-Brest with army stores, when one day, just as we came into

-the English Channel, we were attacked by a U-boat. We

-had an 18-pounder forward, and by a stroke of luck we

-gave old Fritz one on the knob that did him in. The boat

-went down and a dozen of the crew were left swimming.

-We put out a boat and picked one or two of them up.

-The skipper was clinging on to a lifebelt, but just as we

-came up he let go and began to sink. I was in charge of

-the boat, and some fool notion came over me—I think in

-the hurry I forgot he was a U-boat skipper—but anyhow

-like a fool I got overboard and got hold of him. It was

-nothing like a dramatic rescue—there was no danger to

-me—and we were back on board inside fifteen minutes.”</p>

-

-<p>French and Cheyne were listening intently to this

-familiar story. So far it was almost word for word that told

-by Dangle. Apparently, then, there was at least one point

-on which the latter had told the truth.</p>

-

-<p>“We weren’t out of trouble,” Price resumed, “and next

-day we came up against another submarine. We exchanged

-a few shots and then a British destroyer came up and drove

-him off. But I had the luck to stop a splinter of shell, and

-when we got to Brest I was sent to hospital. The U-boat

-skipper had got a crack on the head when his boat went

-down, and he was sent in too. By a chance we got side by

-side beds in the same ward, and used to talk a bit, though

-he was a rotter, even for a Boche.”</p>

-

-<p>Price paused to draw on his cutty pipe, expelling great

-clouds of smoke of a peculiarly acrid and penetrating

-quality. Then, the others not speaking, he went on:</p>

-

-<p>“It turned out that the wound on Schulz’s head—his

-name was Schulz—was serious, and he grew steadily worse.

-Then one night when the ward was quiet, he woke me and

-said he knew his number was up and that he had a secret

-to tell me. We listened, but all the other fellows seemed

-asleep, and then he told me he could put me in the way of

-a fortune—that he had hoped to get it himself after the

-war, but now that it would be a job for someone else. He

-said he would tell me the whole thing, and that I might

-make what I could out of it, if only I would pledge myself

-to give one-eighth of what I got to his wife. He gave me

-the address—somewhere in Breslau. He asked me to swear

-this and I did, and then he took a packet from under his

-pillow and handed it to me. ‘There,’ he said, ‘the whole

-thing’s there. I put it in cipher for safety, but I’ll tell you

-how to read it.’ Well, he began to do so, but just then a

-sister came in, and he shut up till she would leave. But

-the excitement of talking about the thing must have been

-too much for him. He got a weak turn and never spoke

-again.”</p>

-

-<p>“But,” Cheyne interposed, “what about the hard

-copper? Dangle told us about Schulz’s discovery.”</p>

-

-<p>Price gazed at him vacantly for some moments and then

-suddenly smote the table.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve got it!” he cried with an oath. “Dangle! I remember

-that chap now! He was in the next bed on the other

-side of Schulz. That’s right! I couldn’t call him to mind

-when you mentioned him before. Of course! He heard the

-whole tale, and that’s what started him on this do.”</p>

-

-<p>“I know,” Cheyne returned. “He admitted that all right.

-But he told us about the hard copper. You haven’t

-mentioned that.”</p>

-

-<p>Price shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he declared.

-“What do you mean by hard copper?”</p>

-

-<p>“Dangle mentioned it. He was listening to the conversation.

-He told us all that about Schulz’s story of the fortune,

-and about his wife and all that, just as you have,

-but he said Schulz went on to explain what the fortune

-was: that he had hit on a way of treating copper that made

-it as hard as steel. The cipher contained the formula.”</p>

-

-<p>Again Price shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“All spoof,” he observed. “Not a word of truth in it.

-Schulz never mentioned copper or said anything more than

-I’ve told you.”</p>

-

-<p>French spoke for the first time.</p>

-

-<p>“We found this Dangle a man of imagination, all

-through, and it is easy to see why he invented that particular

-yarn. By that time he had undoubtedly read the cipher,

-and he wanted something to mislead Mr. Cheyne as to its

-contents. The story of the hard copper would start a bias

-in Mr. Cheyne’s mind which would tend to keep him off

-the real scent.” He paused, but his companions not

-speaking, continued: “Now we have that bias cleared away, at

-least one interesting fact emerges. The whole business

-starts with the sea—the U-boat commander, Schulz, and

-it looks as if it was going to end up with the sea, the

-tramp, the <i>L’Escaut</i>.”</p>

-

-<p>As French said these words an idea flashed into his

-mind, and he went on deliberately, but with growing

-excitement:</p>

-

-<p>“And when we connect the idea of a U-boat commander

-giving a message which ends with a sea expedition,

-with the fact, which I have just discovered, that the

-essence of his cipher is the <em>position</em> of the markings on it,

-we seem to be getting somewhere.”</p>

-

-<p>Price smote his thigh.</p>

-

-<p>“By Jemima!” he cried. “I’ve got you. That blessed

-tracing is a map!”</p>

-

-<p>“A map, yes. That’s what I think,” French answered

-eagerly, and then as suddenly he saw the possible

-significance of Nelson’s exhortation, he went on dramatically:

-“A map of England!”</p>

-

-<p>Cheyne swore softly.</p>

-

-<p>“My word, if we aren’t a set of blithering idiots!” he

-exclaimed. “Of course! ‘England’ is the title. That’s as

-clear as day! The other words are added as a blind. Let’s

-have the thing out, Inspector, and see if we can’t make

-something of it now.”</p>

-

-<p>As French produced his enlarged photographs not one

-of the three men doubted that they were at last well on

-the way towards wresting the secret from the document

-which had so long baffled them.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch19">

-

-<h2>Chapter XIX. <br> The Message of the Tracing</h2>

-

-<p>Inspector French spread the photograph on his desk,

-and Cheyne and Price having drawn up chairs, all three

-gazed at it as if expecting that in the light of their great

-idea its message would have become obvious.</p>

-

-<p>But in this they were disappointed. The suggestion did

-not seem in any way to help either French or Cheyne, and

-Price, who of course had not seen the document before, was

-satisfactorily mystified. Granted that the thing was a map,

-granted even that it was a map of England, its meaning

-remained just as provokingly hidden as ever.</p>

-

-<p>Presently Price gave vent to an exclamation. “Hang it

-all!” he cried irritably, and then: “I suppose those numbers

-couldn’t be soundings? Could they give depths at the

-circles?”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s an idea,” Cheyne cried, but French shook his

-head.</p>

-

-<p>“I think there’s more in it than that,” he observed. “If

-you examine those numbers you’ll find that they’re

-consecutive, they run from one to thirty-six. Soundings wouldn’t

-lend themselves to such an arrangement. You may be right,

-Mr. Price, and we must keep your idea in view, but I don’t

-see it working out for the moment.”</p>

-

-<p>Silence reigned for a few moments, then Price sat back

-from the table and spoke again.</p>

-

-<p>“Look here, Inspector,” he said, knocking the ashes out

-of his pipe and beginning to fill it with his strong, black

-mixture, “you said something just now I didn’t quite

-follow. Let’s get your notion clear. You talked of this thing

-beginning with the sea—at Schulz, and ending with the

-sea—at <i>L’Escaut</i>, and Schulz’s message being a map. Just

-what was in your mind?”</p>

-

-<p>“Only the obvious suggestion that if you leave a message

-which provokes an expedition, you must also convey in

-your message the destination of that expedition, and a map

-seems the simplest way of doing it. But on second thoughts

-I question my first conclusion. There must be an explanation

-of the secret as well as a direction of how to profit by

-it, and it would seem to me doubtful that such an

-explanation could be covered by a map.”</p>

-

-<p>“Sounds all right, that,” Price admitted. “Have you any

-idea what the secret might be? Sounds like treasure or

-salvage or something of that kind.”</p>

-

-<p>“I scarcely think salvage,” French answered. “The <i>L’Escaut</i>

-is not a salvage boat, and a boat not specially

-fitted for the purpose would be of little use. But I thought

-of treasure all right. This Schulz might have robbed his

-ships—there would always be money aboard, and even

-during the war many women traveled with jewelry. The

-man might easily have made a cache of valuables

-somewhere round the coast.”</p>

-

-<p>“Easily,” Cheyne intervened, “or he might have learned

-of some valuable deposit in some out of the way cove

-round the coast, like those chaps in that clinking tale of

-Maurice Drake’s, <i>WO₂</i>.”</p>

-

-<p>“As at Terneuzen?” said French. “I read that book—one

-of the best I ever came across. It’s a possibility, of

-course.”</p>

-

-<p>The talk here became somewhat rambling, Price not

-having read <i>WO₂</i> and wanting to know what it was about,

-but French soon reverted to his photograph. He reminded

-his hearers that they were all interested in its elucidation.

-Miss Merrill’s safety, his own professional credit, Cheyne’s

-peace of mind, and Price’s fortune, all were at stake.</p>

-

-<p>“We have,” he went on, “evolved the idea that perhaps

-this tracing may be a map of England. On further thought

-that suggestion does not seem promising, but as we have

-no other let us work on it. Assume it is a map of England,

-and let us see if it leads us anywhere.” There were

-murmurs of assent from his hearers, and he continued: “Now

-it seems to me the first thing to do is to try if we can fit

-these circles and lines into the map of England. Is there

-anything corresponding to them in English geography?”</p>

-

-<p>No one being able to answer this query, French went on:</p>

-

-<p>“I think we must distinguish between the letter circles

-on the one hand and those of the numbers and lines on

-the other. The position of the former was not altered in

-the faked copy; that of the latter was. From this may we

-not assume that the message lies in the numbers and lines

-only? Possibly the letters were added as a blind, as we have

-already assumed the words ‘expects every man to do his

-duty’ were added as a blind to ‘England.’ Suppose at all

-events that we eliminate the letter circles and concentrate

-on the others for our first effort?”</p>

-

-<p>“That sounds all right.”</p>

-

-<p>“Good. Then let us go a step further. Have you noticed

-the distribution of the numbers, letters and lines? The

-numbers are bunched, roughly speaking, towards the

-center, the letters round the edge, and the irregular lines

-between the two. Does this central mass give us anything?”</p>

-

-<p>“I get you,” Price replied. He had risen and begun to

-pace the room, but now he returned to the table and stood

-looking down at the photograph. “You know, as a matter of

-fact,” he went on slowly, “if, as you say, you take that

-central part which contains numbers only, the shape of the

-thing is not so very unlike England after all. Suppose the

-numbers represent land and the letters sea. Then this

-patch of letters in the top left-hand corner might be the

-Irish Sea, and this larger patch to the right the North Sea.

-And look, the letter circles form a band across the bottom.

-What price that for the English Channel?”</p>

-

-<p>French crossed the room, and taking a small atlas from

-a shelf, opened it at the map of England and laid it down

-beside the photograph. With a rising excitement all three

-compared them. Then Cheyne burst out irritably:</p>

-

-<p>“Confound the thing! It’s like it and it’s not like it.

-Let’s draw a line round those number circles and see if it

-makes anything like the shape.” He seized the photograph

-and took out a pencil.</p>

-

-<p>But just as in the scientific and industrial worlds

-discoveries and inventions seldom come singly, so among

-these three men the begetting of ideas begot more ideas.

-Scarcely had Cheyne spoken when French made a little

-gesture of comprehension.</p>

-

-<p>“I believe I have it at last,” he said quietly but with

-ill-concealed eagerness in his tones. “Those irregular lines

-in certain of the circles are broken bits of the coast line.

-See here, those two between 8 and U are surely the Wash,

-and that below H is Flamborough Head. Let’s see if we

-can locate correspondingly shaped outlines on the atlas, and

-fill in between those on the photograph with pencil.”</p>

-

-<p>A few seconds’ examination only were needed. Opposite,

-but slightly above the projection which French suggested

-as Flamborough Head was an angled line between GU

-and 31 which all three simultaneously pronounced St.

-Bee’s Head. Short double lines on each side of 24 showed

-two parts of the estuary of the Severn, and projections along

-the bottom near X and 27 were evidently St. Alban’s Head

-and Selsey Bill.</p>

-

-<p>That they were on the right track there could now no

-longer be any doubt, and they set themselves with renewed

-energy to the problem still remaining—the meaning of the

-circles and the numbers they contained.</p>

-

-<p>“We can’t locate the blessed things this way,” French

-pointed out. “We’ll have to rule squares on the atlas to

-correspond. Then we can pencil in the coast line accurately,

-and see just where the circles lie.”</p>

-

-<p>For a time measuring and the drawing of lines were the

-order of the day. And then at last the positions of the

-circles were located. They were all drawn round towns.</p>

-

-<p>“Towns!” Price exclaimed. “Guess we’re getting on.”</p>

-

-<p>“Towns!” Cheyne echoed in his turn. “Then you must

-have been right, Inspector, about those letters being merely

-a blind.”</p>

-

-<p>“I think so,” French admitted. “Look at it in this way. If

-only the towns and coast were marked, the shape of England

-would show too clearly. But adding those letter circles

-disguises the thing—prevents the shape becoming apparent.

-Now, I may be wrong, but I am beginning to question very

-much if this map has anything to do with indicating a

-position—I mean directly. I am beginning to think it is

-merely a cipher. Let us test this at all events. Let us write

-down the names of the towns in the order of the numbers

-and see if that gives us anything.”</p>

-

-<p>He took a sheet of paper, while Price found No. 1 on the

-photograph and Cheyne identified its position with that of

-a town on the atlas map.</p>

-

-<p>“No. 1,” said Cheyne, “is Salisbury.”</p>

-

-<p>French wrote down: “1, Salisbury.”</p>

-

-<p>“No. 2,” went on Cheyne, “is Immingham.”</p>

-

-<p>“2, Immingham,” wrote French, as he remarked,

-“Salisbury—Immingham: S—I. That goes all right so far.”</p>

-

-<p>The next three towns were Liverpool, Uttoxeter, and

-Reading, and though none of the men could see where <span

-class="sc">silur</span> was leading, it was at least pronounceable.</p>

-

-<p>But when the next three letters were added French gave

-a mighty shout of victory. No. 6 was Ipswich, No. 7

-Andover, and No. 8 Nottingham. <span class="sc">ian</span> added

-to <span class="sc">silur</span> made Silurian.</p>

-

-<p>“<em>Silurian!</em>” French cried, striking the table a mighty

-blow with his clenched fist. “<em>Silurian!</em> That begins to show

-a light!”</p>

-

-<p>The others stared.</p>

-

-<p>“Don’t you recognize the name?” went on French. “The <i>Silurian</i>

-was a big Anchor liner, and she was torpedoed on

-her way to the States with two and a half millions in gold

-bars aboard!”</p>

-

-<p>The others held their breath and their eyes grew round.</p>

-

-<p>“Any of it recovered?”</p>

-

-<p>“None: it was in mid-Atlantic.”</p>

-

-<p>“But,” stammered Cheyne at last, “I don’t follow—”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t follow myself,” French returned briskly, “but

-when the cipher which leads to a maritime expedition

-begins with a wreck with two and a half millions aboard,

-well then, I say it is suggestive. Come along, let’s read the

-rest of the thing. We’ll know more then.”</p>

-

-<p>With breathless eagerness the other towns were looked

-up, and at last French’s list read as follows:</p>

-

-<table class="display">

-  <tr><td class="n">1.</td><td>Salisbury</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">2.</td><td>Immingham</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">3.</td><td>Liverpool</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">4.</td><td>Uttoxeter</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">5.</td><td>Reading</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">6.</td><td>Ipswich</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">7.</td><td>Andover</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">8.</td><td>Nottingham</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">9.</td><td>Oxford</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">10.</td><td>Northampton</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">11.</td><td>Evesham</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">12.</td><td>Doncaster</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">13.</td><td>Exeter</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">14.</td><td>Gloucester</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">15.</td><td>Ripon</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">16.</td><td>Ely</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">17.</td><td>Eastbourne</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">18.</td><td>Wigan</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">19.</td><td>Exmouth</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">20.</td><td>Swansea</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">21.</td><td>Tonbridge</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">22.</td><td>Nuneaton</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">23.</td><td>Ilfracombe</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">24.</td><td>Newport</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">25.</td><td>Eaglescliff</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">26.</td><td>Taunton</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">27.</td><td>Eastleigh</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">28.</td><td>Ebbw Vale</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">29.</td><td>Northallerton</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">30.</td><td>Folkestone</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">31.</td><td>Appleby</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">32.</td><td>Tamworth</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">33.</td><td>Huntingdon</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">34.</td><td>Oldham</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">35.</td><td>Middlesborough</td></tr>

-  <tr><td class="n">36.</td><td>Southend</td></tr>

-</table>

-

-<p>Taking the initials in order read:

-Silurian­one­degree­west­nineteen­fathoms, or dividing it into its obvious

-words—“<i>Silurian</i> one degree west nineteen fathoms.”</p>

-

-<p>The three men stared at one another.</p>

-

-<p>“Nineteen fathoms!” Price gasped at last. “But if she’s

-in nineteen fathoms that gold will be salvable!”</p>

-

-<p>French nodded.</p>

-

-<p>“And I guess Dangle and Company have gone to salve

-it. They wouldn’t want a salvage boat for gold. They’d get

-it with a diver’s outfit.”</p>

-

-<p>“But,” Cheyne went on in a puzzled tone, “I’ve not got

-this straight yet. If she’s in nineteen fathoms, why has she

-not been salved by the Admiralty? Look at the <i>Laurentic</i>.

-She was put down off the Swilly in Ireland, and they

-salved her gold. Five million pounds’ worth. Salved

-practically every penny, and in twenty fathoms too.”</p>

-

-<p>Price was considering another problem.</p>

-

-<p>“One degree west,” he murmured. “What under heaven

-does that mean? One degree west of what? Surely not the

-meridian of Greenwich. If so, what is the latitude: there’s

-no mention of it?”</p>

-

-<p>French could not answer either of the questions, and he

-did not try. Instead he picked up his telephone receiver

-and made a call.</p>

-

-<p>“Hallo! Is that Lloyd’s? Put me through to the Record

-Department, please . . . Is Mr. Sam Pullar there? Tell him

-Inspector French of Scotland Yard wants to speak to him . . .

-Hallo, Sam! . . . Yes . . . Haven’t seen you for ages . . .

-Look here, Sam, I want you to do me a favor. It’s

-rather urgent, and I’d be grateful if you could look after it

-just now. . . . Yes, I’ll hold on. I want to know anything

-you can tell me about the sinking of the <i>Silurian</i>. You

-remember, she had two and a half millions on her in gold,

-and the U-boats got her somewhere between this country

-and the States, I think in ’17 . . . What’s that? . . . Yes,

-all that and anything else you can tell me.” He took the

-receiver from his ear. “Friend of mine in Lloyd’s,” he

-explained. “We ought to get some light from his reply.”</p>

-

-<p>Silence reigned for a couple of minutes, then French

-spoke again. “Let me repeat that,” he said, seizing a pad

-and scribbling furiously. “Latitude 41 degrees 36 minutes

-north, longitude 28 degrees 53 minutes west. Right. How

-was that known? . . . But there was no direct information? . . .

-Was the gold insured? . . . Well, it’s an involved

-business, I could hardly tell you over the phone. I’ll explain

-it first time we meet . . . Thank you, Sam. Much obliged.”</p>

-

-<p>He rang off and then made a departmental call.</p>

-

-<p>“Put me through to Inspector Barnes . . . That you,

-Barnes? I’m on to something a bit in your line. Could you

-come down here for half an hour?”</p>

-

-<p>“Barnes is our authority on things nautical,” he told the

-others. “Began life as a sailor and has studied all branches

-of sea lore. We always give him shipping cases. We’ll wait

-till he comes and then I’ll tell you what I learned from

-Lloyd’s.”</p>

-

-<p>“Isn’t it a strange thing,” Cheyne remarked, “that

-Schulz should have chosen England for his map and

-English for his cipher. Wouldn’t the natural thing have

-been for him to have chosen Germany and German? He

-could have headed it, for instance, ‘Deutschland über

-Alles,’ and used the initials of German towns for his

-phrase.”</p>

-

-<p>“I thought of that,” French returned, “but we have to

-remember he prepared the cipher to mislead Germans, not

-English. In that case I think he was right to use English.

-It made the thing more difficult.”</p>

-

-<p>He had scarcely finished speaking when the door opened,

-and a tall, alert-looking young man entered the room.

-French introduced him as Inspector Barnes and pointed

-to a chair.</p>

-

-<p>“Seat yourself, Barnes, and listen to my tale. These

-gentlemen are concerned with a curious story,” and he gave

-a brief résumé of the strange events which had led up to

-the existing situation. “Now,” he went on, “when we found

-it was connected with the <i>Silurian</i> I rang up Sam Pullar

-at Lloyd’s, and this is what he told me. The <i>Silurian</i> sailed

-from this country on the 16th of February, 1917. She was

-bound for New York, and she had two and a half millions

-on her in bullion as well as a fair number of passengers.

-She was a big boat—an Anchor liner of some 15,000 tons.

-You remember about her?”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, I should think so,” Barnes returned, as he lit a

-cigarette. “Why, I was on that job—getting her away, I

-mean. All kinds of precautions were taken. A tale was

-started that she would load up the gold at Plymouth and

-would sail—I forget the exact date now, but it was three

-days after she did sail. It was my job to see that the

-German spies about Plymouth got hold of this tale, and

-we had evidence that they did get it, and moreover sent it

-through to Germany, and that the U-boats were instructed

-accordingly. As a matter of fact the <i>Silurian</i> came from

-Brest, where she had landed army stores from South

-America, and the bullion went out in a tender from

-Folkestone, and was transferred at night in the Channel

-in the middle of a ring of destroyers. While preparations

-were being made at Plymouth for her arrival she was away

-hundreds of miles towards the States.”</p>

-

-<p>“But they got her all the same.”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh yes, they got her, but not all the same. She escaped

-the boats that were looking out for her. It was a chance

-boat that found her, somewhere, if I remember rightly,

-near the Azores.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s right,” French answered. “Instead of going

-directly west, so Sam Pullar told me, she went south to

-avoid those submarines you spoke of and which were

-supposed to be operating off the Land’s End. Her course was

-followed by wireless, down to near the Spanish coast, and

-then across fairly due west. She was last seen by a Cape

-boat some thirty miles west of Finisterre. Then a message

-was received from her when she was some 250 miles north

-of the Azores, that a U-boat had come along, and had

-ordered her to stop. The message gave her position and

-went on to say that a boat was coming aboard from the

-submarine. Then it stopped, and that was the last thing

-that was heard of her. Not a body or a boat or a bit of

-wreckage was ever picked up, and it was clear that every

-one on board was lost. Then after a time confirmation was

-obtained. Our intelligence people in Germany intercepted

-a report from the commander of the submarine who sank

-her, giving details. She had been sunk in latitude 41° 36′

-north, longitude 28° 53′ west, which confirmed the figures

-sent out in her last wireless message. Four boats had got

-away, but the commander had fired on them and had sunk

-them one after another, so that not a single member of the

-passengers or crew should survive.”</p>

-

-<p>“Dirty savages,” Barnes commented. “But people in open

-boats wouldn’t have had much chance there anyway,

-particularly in February. If they had been able to keep afloat

-at all, they would probably have missed the Azores, and

-it’s very unlikely they would have made the Spanish or

-Portuguese coast—it would have been too far.”</p>

-

-<p>French pushed forward his atlas.</p>

-

-<p>“Just whereabouts did she sink?” he inquired.</p>

-

-<p>“About there.” Barnes indicated a point north of the

-Azores. “But this atlas is too small to see it. Send someone

-to my room for my large atlas. You’ll see better on that.”</p>

-

-<p>French having telephoned his instructions Barnes went

-on.</p>

-

-<p>“She’s evidently lying on what is called the Dolphin

-Rise. The Dolphin Rise is part of a great ridge which

-passes down the middle of the Atlantic from near Iceland

-to well down towards the Antarctic Ocean. This ridge is

-covered by an average of some 1,700 fathoms of water,

-with vastly greater depths on either side. It is volcanic and

-is covered by great submarine mountain chains. Where the

-tops of these mountains protrude above the surface we get,

-of course, islands, and the Azores are such a group.”</p>

-

-<p>A constable at that moment entered with the large atlas,

-and Barnes continued:</p>

-

-<p>“Now we’ll see in a moment.” He ran his finger down

-the index of maps, then turned the pages. “Here we are.

-Here is a map of the North Atlantic Ocean: here are the

-Azores and hereabouts is your point, and—By Jove!” the

-young man looked actually excited, “here is what your

-cipher means all right!”</p>

-

-<p>The other three crowded round in almost breathless

-excitement. Barnes pointed with a pencil slightly to the

-east of a white spot about a quarter of an inch in diameter

-which bore the figure 18.</p>

-

-<p>“Look here,” he went on, “there’s about the point she

-is supposed to have sunk. You see it is colored light blue,

-which the reference tells us means over 1,000 fathoms. But

-measure one degree to the west—it is about fifty miles at

-that latitude—and it brings us into the middle of that

-white patch marked 18. That white patch is another

-mountain chain, just not high enough to become an island,

-and the 18 means that the peaks come within 18 fathoms

-of the surface. So that your cipher message is probably

-quite all right, and your Antwerp party are more than

-likely working away at the gold at the present time.”</p>

-

-<p>French swore comprehensively.</p>

-

-<p>“You must be right,” he agreed. “One can see now what

-that blackguard of a U-boat commander did. He evidently

-put some men aboard the <i>Silurian</i> to dismantle their

-wireless, then made them sail on parallel to his own course

-until he had by the use of his lead maneuvered them over

-the highest peak, and then put them down. The whole

-thing must have been quite deliberate. He returned to his

-own government a false statement of her position, which he

-knew would correspond with the last message she sent out,

-intending it to be believed that she was lost in over 1,000

-fathoms. But he sank her where he could himself afterwards

-recover her bullion, or sell his secret to the highest

-bidder. The people on the <i>Silurian</i> would know all about

-that two or three hours’ steam west, so they must be got

-rid of. Hence his destroying the boats one after another.

-No one must be left alive to give the thing away. To his

-own crew he no doubt told some tale to account for it, but

-he would be safe enough there, as no one except himself

-would know the actual facts. Dirty savage indeed!”</p>

-

-<p>With this speech of French’s a light seemed to Cheyne

-suddenly to shine out over all that strange adventure in

-which for so many weeks he had been involved. With it

-each puzzling fact seemed to become comprehensible and

-to drop into its natural place in the story as the pieces of

-a jigsaw puzzle eventually make a coherent whole. He

-pictured the thing from the beginning, the submarine coming

-up with the ship in deep water, but comparatively close

-to a shallow place where its treasure could be salved: the

-desire of the U-boat commander, Schulz, to save the gold,

-quite possibly in the first instance for the benefit of his

-nation. Then the temptation to keep what he had done

-secret so as, if possible later, to get the stuff for himself.

-His fall before this temptation, with its contingent false

-return to his government as to the position of the wreck.

-Then, Cheyne saw, the problem of passing on the secret in

-the event of his own death would arise, with the evolution

-and construction of the cipher as an attempted solution.

-As a result of Schulz’s fatal wound the cipher was handed

-to Price, and Schulz was doubtless about to explain how

-it should be read, when he was interrupted by the nurse.

-Before another chance offered he was dead.</p>

-

-<p>Given the fact that Dangle overheard the dying man’s

-story, and that Dangle’s character was what it was, Cheyne

-now saw that the remainder of his adventure could

-scarcely have happened otherwise than as it had. To

-obtain the cipher was Dangle’s obvious course, and there

-was no reason to doubt his own statement of how he set

-about it. A search among Price’s papers showed the latter

-had sent the document to Cheyne, and from Cheyne

-Dangle had evidently decided to obtain it. But nothing

-could be done till after the war, nor, presumably, without

-financial and other help. In this lay, doubtless, the reason

-for the application to Blessington and Sime, and these two

-being roped in, the unscrupulous trio set themselves to

-work. Susan Dangle assisted by obtaining a post as servant

-at Warren Lodge, and thus gained detailed information

-which enabled the others to lay their plans. And so in a

-quite orderly sequence event had followed event, until now

-it looked as if the climax had been reached.</p>

-

-<p>Like a flash these thoughts passed through Cheyne’s

-mind, and like a flash he saw what depended on them.

-Now they knew where Joan Merrill had been taken. If she

-was still alive—and he simply could not bring himself to

-admit any other possibility—she was on that boat of

-Merkel’s some two hundred and fifty miles north of the

-Azores! From that something surely followed. He turned

-to French and spoke in a voice which was hoarse from

-anxiety.</p>

-

-<p>“What about an expedition to the place?”</p>

-

-<p>French nodded decisively.</p>

-

-<p>“We must arrange one without delay,” he said. “I think

-the Admiralty is our hope. That gold wasn’t insured—it

-was a government business. I’ll go and tell the chief about

-it now, and get him to see the proper authorities.

-Meanwhile,” he looked, for French, quite sharply at the others,

-“not a word of this must be breathed.”</p>

-

-<p>Intense interest was excited in the higher circles of the

-Admiralty by the news which reached them from the

-Yard. Great personages bestirred themselves to issue orders,

-with the result that with enormously more promptitude

-than the man in the street can bring himself to associate

-with a Government Department, a fast boat, well equipped

-with divers and gear, was got ready for sea. French put in

-a word for both Cheyne and Price, and when, some eight

-hours after their reading of the cipher, the boat put out

-into the Thames from Chatham Dockyard, it carried in

-addition to its regular crew not only Inspector French

-himself, but also his two protégés.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="chapter" id="ch20">

-

-<h2>Chapter XX. <br> The Goal of the “L’Escaut”</h2>

-

-<p>Inspector French had gone to bed in the tiny but

-comfortable stateroom which had been put at his disposal by

-the officers of the Admiralty boat while that redoubtable

-vessel was slipping easily and on an even keel through the

-calm waters of the Straits of Dover. He awoke next morning

-to find her plunging and rolling and staggering through

-what, in comparison with his previous experiences of the

-sea, appeared to be a frightful storm. To his surprise,

-however, he did not feel any bad effects from the motion, and

-presently he arose, and having with extreme care

-performed the ticklish operation of shaving, dressed and

-climbed with the aid of railings and handles to the

-companionway, and so to the deck.</p>

-

-<p>The sight which met his eyes on emerging made him

-hold his breath, as he clung to the rail at the companion

-door. It was a wonderful morning, clear and bright and

-fresh and invigorating. The sun shone down from a cloudless

-sky on to a dark sapphire sea of incredible purity,

-flecked over with foaming patches of dazzling white. As

-far as the eye could reach in every direction out to the

-hard sharp line of the horizon, great waves rolled

-relentlessly onward, wavelets dancing and churning and

-foaming on their slow-moving flanks. The wind caught French

-and, as if it were a solid, held him pinned against the

-deckhouse. He stood watching the bluff bows of the boat

-rise in the air, then crash back into the sea, throwing out

-a smother of water and foam some of which would seep

-over the fo’c’sle, and after swirling through the forward

-deck hamper, disappear through the scuppers amidships.</p>

-

-<p>For some moments he watched, then moving round the

-deckhouse, he glanced up and saw Cheyne and Price

-beckoning to him from the bridge, where they had joined the

-officer of the watch.</p>

-

-<p>“Some morning this, Inspector,” Price cried, as he joined

-them in the lee of the weather canvas. “This will blow the

-London cobwebs out of our minds.”</p>

-

-<p>He was evidently keenly enjoying himself, and even

-Cheyne’s anxious face showed appreciation of his

-surroundings. And soon French himself, having realized that

-they were not necessarily going to the bottom in a

-hurricane, but merely running down Channel in a fresh

-southwesterly breeze, began to feel the thrill of the sea, and to

-believe that the end of his quest was going to develop into

-a novel and delightful holiday trip.</p>

-

-<p>The same weather held all that day and the next, but

-on the third the wind fell, and the sea gradually calmed

-down to a slow, easy swell. The sun grew hotter, and

-basking in it in the lee of the deckhouse became a delight.

-Little was said about the object of the expedition. French

-and Price were content to enjoy the present, and Cheyne

-managed to keep his anxieties to himself. The ship’s officers

-were a jolly crowd, immensely excited by their quest, and

-conducting themselves as the kindly hosts of welcome

-guests.</p>

-

-<p>On the fourth day it grew still warmer, indeed out of

-the breeze made by the ship’s motion it was unpleasantly

-hot. French liked to get away forward, where it was cooler,

-and leaned by the hour over the bows, watching the sharp

-stem cut through the water and roll back in its frothing

-wave on either side. Dolphins were now to be seen

-swimming in the clear water, and two hung at the bows, one

-on each side, apparently motionless for long periods, until

-suddenly they would dart ahead, spiral round one another

-and then return to their places.</p>

-

-<p>That fourth evening the captain joined his passengers as

-the trio were smoking on deck.</p>

-

-<p>“If we carry on like this,” he remarked, “we should

-reach the position about four <span class="sc">a.m.</span> But those beggars

-may be taking a risk and not showing a light, so I propose to

-slow down from now on, in order not to arrive till

-daylight. Come on deck about six. If they’re here we should

-raise them between then and seven.”</p>

-

-<p>French, waking early next morning, could not control

-his excitement and remain in his berth until the allotted

-time. He rose at five, and went on deck with the somewhat

-shamefaced feeling that he was acting as a small boy, who

-on Christmas morning must needs get up on waking to

-investigate the possibilities of stockings. But he need not

-have feared ridicule from his companions. Both Cheyne

-and Price were already on the bridge, and the skipper

-stood with his telescope glued to his eye as he searched

-the horizon ahead. All three were evidently thrilled by the

-approaching finale, and a slight incoherence was

-discernible in their somewhat scrappy conversation.</p>

-

-<p>The morning was calm and very clear. Once again the

-sky was cloudless, and the soft southwesterly wind barely

-ruffled the surface of the long flat swells. It was a pleasure

-to be alive, and it seemed impossible to associate crime

-and violence with the expedition. But beneath their smiles

-all concerned felt it might easily develop into a grim

-enough business. And that side of it became more apparent

-when at the captain’s order the covers of the six-pounders

-mounted fore and aft were removed, and the weapons

-were prepared for action by their crews.</p>

-

-<p>The hands of French’s watch had just reached the

-quarter hour after six, when Captain Amery, who had

-once again been sweeping the horizon with his telescope,

-said quietly: “There she is.” He handed the glass to

-French. “See there, about three points on the starboard

-bow.”</p>

-

-<p>French, with some difficulty steadying the tube, saw

-very faint and far off what looked like the upper part of

-a steamer’s deck, with a funnel, and two masts like

-threads of the finest gossamer. “She’s still hull down,” the

-captain explained. “You’ll see her better in a few minutes.

-We should be up with her in three-quarters of an hour.”</p>

-

-<p>In order to leave them free later on, it was decided to

-have breakfast at once, and by the time the hasty meal had

-been disposed of the stranger was clearly visible to the

-naked eye. She lay heading westward, as though anchored

-in the swing of the tide, and her fires appeared to be either

-out or banked, as no smoke was visible at her funnel. The

-glass revealed a flag at her forepeak, but she was still too

-far off to make out its coloring.</p>

-

-<p>Now that the dramatic climax was approaching, the

-minds of the actors in the play became charged with a

-very real anxiety. Captain Amery, under almost any

-circumstances, would have to deal with a very ticklish

-situation. He had to get the gold, if it was salvable, and the

-fact that they were not in British waters would be a

-complication if the Belgian had already recovered it. French

-had to ascertain if his quarry were on board, and if so, see

-that they did not escape him—also a difficult job outside

-the three-mile limit. For Price a fortune hung in the

-balance—not of course all the gold that might be found, but

-the proportion allowed him by law; while for Cheyne there

-remained something a thousand times more important

-than the capture of a criminal or the acquisition of a

-fortune—for Cheyne the question of Joan Merrill’s life

-was at stake. Their several anxieties were reflected on the

-faces of the men, as they stood in silence, watching the

-rapidly growing vessel.</p>

-

-<p>Presently an exclamation came from Captain Amery.</p>

-

-<p>“By Jove!” he said, “this is a rum business. I can see that

-flag now, and it’s our red ensign. What’s a Belgian boat

-doing with a British flag? And what’s more, it’s jack down—a

-flag of distress. What do you think of that?” He looked

-at the others with a puzzled expression, then went on: “I

-suppose they’re not armed? You don’t know, Inspector,

-do you? If they were armed it would be a likely enough ruse

-to get us close by, so as to make sure of hitting us in a

-vital place.”</p>

-

-<p>French shook his head. He had heard nothing about

-arms, though for all he knew to the contrary the <i>L’Escaut</i>

-might carry a gun.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t see one,” the captain continued, “but then if

-they have one they’d keep it hidden. But I don’t like there

-being no signs of life aboard her. There’s no smoke

-anywhere, either from her boilers or her galley. There’s no one

-on the bridge, and I’ve not seen a movement on deck. It

-doesn’t look well: in fact it looks as if they were lying low

-and waiting for us.”</p>

-

-<p>They were now within a mile of the stranger, and her

-details were clear even to the naked eye.</p>

-

-<p>“It’s the <i>L’Escaut</i> anyway,” Captain Amery went on.

-“I can see the name on her bows. But I confess I don’t

-like that flag and that silence. I think I’ll see if I can

-wake her up.”</p>

-

-<p>He put his hand on the foghorn halliard and blew a

-number of resounding blasts. For a few seconds nothing

-happened, then suddenly two figures appeared at the

-deckhouse door, and after a moment’s pause, rushed up on

-the bridge and began waving furiously. As they passed up

-the bridge ladder they came from behind the shelter of a

-boat and their silhouettes became visible against the sky.

-They were both women!</p>

-

-<p>A strangled cry burst from Cheyne as he snatched the

-captain’s telescope and gazed at them, then with a shout

-of “It’s she! It’s she!” he leaped to the end of the bridge

-and began waving his hat frantically.</p>

-

-<p>At this moment two other figures appeared on the

-fo’c’sle and, apparently moving to the vessel’s side, stood

-watching the newcomers. Amery rang his engines down

-to half speed and, slightly porting his helm, headed for

-some distance astern of the other. Then starboarding, he

-swung round, and bringing up parallel to her and some

-couple of hundred yards away, he dropped anchor.</p>

-

-<p>Without loss of a moment a boat was lowered, and

-French, Cheyne, Price, the first officer, and a half dozen

-men, all armed with service revolvers, tumbled in. Giving

-way lustily, they pulled for the Belgian.</p>

-

-<p>It was by this time possible to distinguish the features of

-the women, and French was not surprised to learn they

-were Joan Merrill and Susan Dangle. Evidently they

-recognized Cheyne, who kept waving furiously as if he

-found the movement necessary to relieve his overwrought

-feelings. The two figures forward were those of men, and

-these stood watching the boat, though without exhibiting

-any of the transports of delight of their fellow shipmates

-on the bridge.</p>

-

-<p>As they drew closer Joan made signs to them to go

-round to the other side of the ship, and dropping round

-her stern they saw a ladder rigged. In a few seconds they

-were alongside, and Cheyne, leaping out before the

-others, rushed up the steps and reached the deck.</p>

-

-<p>If there had been any doubts as to the real relations

-between himself and Joan, these were set at rest at that

-moment. Instinctively he opened his arms, and Joan,

-swept off her feet by her emotion, threw herself into them

-and clung to him, while tears of joy and relief ran down

-her cheeks. As far as Cheyne was concerned, Susan

-Dangle, the figures on the fo’c’sle, French, and the men behind

-him might as well not have existed. He crushed Joan

-violently to him, covering her face and hair with burning

-kisses, as he murmured brokenly of his love and of his

-thankfulness for her safety.</p>

-

-<p>French, anxious to learn the state of affairs and seeing

-nothing was to be got from Joan, turned expectantly to

-Susan Dangle. What could these unexpected developments

-mean? Was Susan, the enemy, now a friend?

-Where were the others? Were the ship’s company friends

-or foes? Could he ask her questions which might

-incriminate her without giving her a formal warning?</p>

-

-<p>But his curiosity would brook no delay.</p>

-

-<p>“I am Inspector French of Scotland Yard,” he

-announced, while Price and the first officer stood round

-expectantly. “You are Miss Susan Dangle. Where are the

-other members of this expedition?”</p>

-

-<p>The girl wrung her hands, and he noticed how terribly

-pale and drawn was her face and what horror shone in

-her eyes.</p>

-

-<p>“Oh!” she cried, with a gesture as if to shut out the sight

-of some hideous dream. “Oh, it’s been awful! I can’t

-speak of it. They’re dead! My brother James, Charles

-Sime, Mr. Merkel, most of the crew, dead—all dead! Mr.

-Blessington wounded—probably dying! They got fighting

-over the gold!” She began suddenly to laugh, a terrible

-high cackling laugh, that made her hearers shiver, and

-attracted the attention even of Joan and Cheyne.</p>

-

-<p>French stepped quickly forward and seized her arm.</p>

-

-<p>“There now, Miss Dangle,” he said kindly but firmly.

-“Stop that and pull yourself together. Your terrible

-experiences are over now and you’re in the hands of friends. But

-you mustn’t give way like this. Make an effort, and you’ll

-be better directly.” He led her to a hatchway and made her

-sit down, while he continued soothing her as one would a

-fractious child.</p>

-

-<p>But so great was the agitation of both girls that it was

-quite a considerable time before the tragic tale of

-the <i>L’Escaut’s</i> expedition became fully unfolded. And when at

-last it was told it proved still but one more illustration of

-the old truth that the qualities of greed and envy and

-selfishness have that seed of decay within themselves which

-leads their unhappy victims to overreach themselves, and

-instead of gaining what they seek, to lose their all. Shorn

-of incoherent phrases and irrelevant details the story was

-this.</p>

-

-<p>On the 24th of May the <i>L’Escaut</i> had left Antwerp

-with twenty-eight souls aboard. Aft there were Joan,

-Susan, Blessington, Sime, Dangle, and Merkel, with the

-captain, first officer, and engineer—nine persons, while

-forward were three divers, six assistants, a cook, a steward,

-four seamen, and four engine-room staff, or nineteen

-altogether. Once clear of the Scheldt Joan’s treatment had

-changed. Her food was no longer drugged, and when in a

-few days she got over the effects of the doses she had

-received, she found her jailers polite and friendly and

-anxious to minimize the inconvenience and anxiety she

-was suffering. They told her they did not wish her evil,

-and were taking her with them simply to prevent information

-as to themselves or their affairs leaking out through

-her. This, of course, she did not believe, since she did not

-possess sufficient information about them to enable her to

-interfere with their plans. But later their real motive

-dawned on her. Gradually she realized that Blessington

-had fallen in love with her, and though he was

-circumspect enough, her distrust of him was such that she felt

-sick with horror and dread when she thought of him.

-Nothing, however, had occurred to which she could take

-exception, and had it not been for her fears as to her own fate

-and her anxieties as to Cheyne’s, the voyage would have

-been pleasant enough.</p>

-

-<p>The <i>L’Escaut</i> was a fast boat, and four days had

-brought them to the spot referred to in the cipher. After

-three days’ search they found the wreck, and all three

-divers had at once gone down. A week was spent in

-making an examination of the vessel, at the end of which time

-they had located the gold. It was in her stern, low down

-and not far from her port side. The divers recommended

-blowing her plates off at this spot, and ten days more

-sufficed for this. Through the hole thus made the divers

-were able to draw in tackle lowered from the <i>L’Escaut</i>,

-and the ingots of gold were slung to cradles and drawn

-up with really wonderful ease and speed. They had,

-moreover, been favored with a peculiarly fine stretch of

-weather, work having to be suspended on only eight days

-of the thirty-seven they were there.</p>

-

-<p>On reaching the wreck in the first instance the captain

-had mustered his crew aft and had informed them—what

-he could no longer keep secret—that they were out for

-gold, and that if they found it in the quantities they

-hoped, every man on board would receive at the end of

-the trip a gift of £1,000 in addition to his pay. The men

-at first seemed more than satisfied, but as ingot after ingot

-was recovered the generosity of the offer shrank in their

-estimation. Four days before the appearance of French’s

-party the divers had reported that another day would

-complete the work, and then appeared the first hint that all

-was not well. On that last evening before the completion

-of the diving the men came forward in a body and asked

-to see the captain. They explained that they had been

-reckoning up the value of the gold, and they weren’t

-having £1,000 apiece: they wanted an even divide all round.

-The captain argued with them civilly enough at first—told

-them that they couldn’t get the metal ashore and

-turned into money in secret, that the port officers or

-coastguards wherever it was unloaded would be bound to learn

-what they were doing and that then the government would

-claim an enormous percentage of the whole, so that the

-£1,000 per man was an extremely liberal gift. The men

-declared that they would look after the unloading, and

-that they were going to have what they wanted. Hot

-words passed, and then the captain drew a revolver and

-said that he was captain there, and that what he said

-would go. Susan was watching the scene from the quarter-deck

-behind, but she could not be quite sure of what followed.

-One of the crew pressed forward and the captain

-raised his revolver. She did not think he meant to fire, but

-another of the men either genuinely or purposely

-misunderstood his action. He raised his hand, a shot rang out,

-and the captain fell dead. The mutineers were evidently

-terribly upset by a murder which they had apparently

-never intended, and had Blessington and Sime acted

-intelligently, the trouble might have gone no further. But

-at that moment these two worthies, who must have been

-in the chart-house all the time, began firing through the

-windows at the men. A regular pitched battle ensued, in

-which Sime and five of the crew were hit, three of the

-latter being killed. It was then war to the knife between

-those who berthed forward and those who berthed aft. All

-that night sporadic shots rang out at intervals, but at

-daybreak on the following day matters came to a head. The

-crew with considerable generalship made a feint on the

-fo’c’sle with some of their number while the remainder

-swarmed aft below decks. The defenders, taken in the rear,

-were shot down, and the mutineers were masters of the

-ship.</p>

-

-<p>All that next day Joan and Susan, terror-stricken,

-clung to each other in the latter’s cabin. The men were

-reasonably civil: told them they might get themselves

-food, and let them alone. But that night a further terrible

-quarrel burst out between, as they learned afterwards,

-those who wished to murder the girls and go off with the

-treasure and those who feared murder more than the loss

-of the gold. Once again there were the reports of shots

-and the groans of wounded men. The fusillade went on at

-intervals all night, until next morning one of the divers—a

-superior man with whom the girls had often talked—had

-come in with his head covered with blood, and asked

-the girls to bandage it. Susan had some slight surgical

-knowledge, and did what she could for him. Then the

-man told them that of the entire ship’s company only

-themselves and seven others were alive, and that of these

-seven four were so badly wounded that they would

-probably not recover. Among these was Blessington. Sime and

-James Dangle were dead.</p>

-

-<p>The slightly injured men threw the dead overboard and

-cleaned up the traces of the fighting, while the girls

-ministered to the seriously wounded. Of course, in the three

-days up till the arrival of the avengers—who had by a

-strange trick of fate become the rescuers—one man had

-died. Of the eight-and-twenty who sailed from Antwerp

-there were therefore left only nine: the two girls and four

-slightly and three seriously wounded men. None of those

-able to move understood either engineering or seamanship,

-so that they had luckily decided to remain at anchor

-in the hope of some ship picking up their flag of distress.</p>

-

-<p>“There is just one thing I should like to understand,”

-said Cheyne to Joan, when later on that day a prize crew

-had been put aboard the <i>L’Escaut</i> and steam was being

-raised for the return to England, “and that is what

-happened to you on the night that we burgled Earlswood.

-You got back to your rooms, then left again with Sime

-and Blessington?”</p>

-

-<p>“There’s not much to tell about that,” Joan answered,

-smiling happily up into her lover’s eyes. “I was, as you

-know, standing like a watchman before the door of

-Earlswood, when I saw Susan and her brother coming up. I

-rang and knocked and kept them talking as long as

-possible. Then when they opened the door I slipped away, but

-I heard your footsteps and realized that you had got out by

-the back way. I heard you run off down the lane with

-Dangle after you, then remembering your arrangement

-about throwing away the tracing, I climbed over the wall,

-picked it up and went back to my rooms. The first thing

-I did was to photograph it, then I hid it in my color box.

-I had scarcely done so when Sime called. He said you had

-met with an accident—been caught between two motorcars

-and knocked down by one of them—and that you

-were seriously injured. He said you were conscious and had

-given him my address and were calling for me. I went

-down to find Blessington driving a car, though I didn’t

-know then it was Blessington. As soon as we started Sime

-held a chloroformed cloth over my mouth, and I don’t

-remember much more till we were on the <i>L’Escaut</i>.”</p>

-

-<p>“But how did Sime find your rooms?”</p>

-

-<p>“Through Susan. Susan told me all about it afterwards.

-She went out after James and saw me climbing over the

-wall with the tracing. She followed me to my rooms and

-immediately telephoned to Sime. When Sime called she

-was with him, and while I changed my coat Sime let her

-into the studio and she hid behind an easel until we were

-gone. She searched till she found the tracing and then

-simply walked out. The gang had intended to go to

-Antwerp the following week in any case, but this business

-upset their plans and they decided to start immediately.

-Dangle went on and arranged for the <i>L’Escaut</i> to leave

-some days earlier. The rest of us put up at Ghent till she

-was ready to sail.” But little further remains to be told.

-The few bars of gold still left on the <i>Silurian</i> were soon

-raised and the two ships set sail, reaching Chatham some

-five days later. All the bullion theoretically belonged to the

-Crown, but under the special circumstances a generous

-division was made whereby twenty-five per cent was

-returned to the finders. As Price refused to accept the

-whole amount an amicable agreement was come to,

-whereby Cheyne, Joan, and Price each received almost

-one-third, or £200,000 apiece. Of the balance of over

-£20,000, £10,000 was given to Susan Dangle by Joan’s

-imperative directions. She said that Susan was not a bad

-girl and had turned up trumps during the trouble on

-the <i>L’Escaut</i>. £1,000 went to Inspector French—also Joan’s

-gift, and the remainder was divided among the officers

-and men of the Admiralty salvage boat.</p>

-

-<p>A few days after landing Maxwell Cheyne and Joan

-Merrill had occasion to pay a short visit to the church of

-St. Margaret’s in the Fields, after which Cheyne whirled

-his wife away to Devonshire, so that she might make the

-acquaintance of his family and see the country where

-began that strange series of events which in the

-beginning of the story I alluded to as <span

-class="sc">The Cheyne Mystery</span>.</p>

-

-</div>

-

-<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">

-

-<div class="section" id="transcriber">

-

-<h2>Transcriber’s Note</h2>

-

-<p>This transcription follows the text of the Penguin Books edition

-published in 1978. The following alterations have been made to correct

-what are believed to be unambiguous printer’s errors.</p>

-

-<ul>

-  <li>Five erroneous quotation marks have been repaired.</li>

-  <li>“desparate” has been changed to “desperate” (Ch. II).</li>

-  <li>“wondered it he” has been changed to “wondered if he” (Ch. II).</li>

-  <li>“Chayne” has been changed to “Cheyne” (Chs. IX and X).</li>

-  <li>“Walting Street” has been changed to “Watling Street” (Ch. X).</li>

-  <li>“noncommital” has been changed to “noncommittal” (Ch. XIV).</li>

-  <li>“pessmist” has been changed to “pessimist” (Ch. XV).</li>

-  <li>“Sargeant” has been changed to “Sergeant” (Ch. XVI).</li>

-  <li>“similiar” has been changed to “similar” (Ch. XVII).</li>

-</ul>

-

-</div>

-

-<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHEYNE MYSTERY ***</div>

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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHEYNE MYSTERY ***</div>
+
+<figure>
+  <img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Book cover">
+</figure>
+
+<div class="section" id="titlepage">
+
+<h1>The Cheyne Mystery</h1>
+<p class="authorprefix">by</p>
+<p class="author">Freeman Wills Crofts</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="section" id="contents">
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<table>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">1</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch01">The Episode in the Plymouth Hotel</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">2</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch02">Burglary!</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">3</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch03">The Launch “Enid”</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">4</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch04">Concerning a Peerage</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">5</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch05">An Amateur Sleuth</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">6</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch06">The House in Hopefield Avenue</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">7</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch07">Miss Joan Merrill</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">8</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch08">A Council of War</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">9</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch09">Mr. Speedwell Plays His Hand</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">10</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch10">The New Firm Gets Busy</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">11</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch11">Otto Schulz’s Secret</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">12</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch12">In the Enemy’s Lair</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">13</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch13">Inspector French Takes Charge</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">14</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch14">The Clue of the Clay-marked Shoe</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">15</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch15">The Torn Hotel Bill</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">16</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch16">A Tale of Two Cities</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">17</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch17">On the Flood Tide</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">18</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch18">A Visitor from India</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">19</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch19">The Message of the Tracing</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="n">20</td>
+  <td class="t"><a href="#ch20">The Goal of the “L’Escaut”</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch01">
+
+<h2>Chapter I. <br> The Episode in the Plymouth Hotel</h2>
+
+<p>When the White Rabbit in <i>Alice</i> asked where he should
+begin to read the verses at the Knave’s trial the King
+replied: “Begin at the beginning; go on till you come to
+the end; then stop.”</p>
+
+<p>This would seem to be the last word on the subject of
+narration in general. For the novelist no dictum more
+entirely complete and satisfactory can be imagined—in
+theory. But in practice it is hard to live up to.</p>
+
+<p>Where is the beginning of a story? Where is the
+beginning of anything? No one knows.</p>
+
+<p>When I set myself to consider the actual beginning of
+Maxwell Cheyne’s adventure, I saw at once I should have
+to go back to Noah. Indeed I was not at all sure whether
+the thing could be adequately explained unless I carried
+back the narrative to Adam, or even further. For Cheyne’s
+adventure hinged not only on his own character and
+environment, brought about by goodness knows how many
+thousands of generations of ancestors, but also upon the
+contemporaneous history of the world, crystallized in the
+happening of the Great War and all that appertained
+thereto.</p>
+
+<p>So then, in default of the true beginning, let us
+commence with the character and environment of Maxwell
+Cheyne, following on with the strange episode which took
+place in the Edgecombe Hotel in Plymouth, and from which
+started that extraordinary series of events which I have
+called The Cheyne Mystery.</p>
+
+<p>Maxwell Cheyne was born in 1891, so that when his
+adventure began in the month of March, 1920, he was just
+twenty-nine. His father was a navy man, commander of
+one of His Majesty’s smaller cruisers, and from him the
+boy presumably inherited his intense love of the sea and
+of adventure. Captain Cheyne had Irish blood in his veins
+and exhibited some of the characteristics of that irritating
+though lovable race. He was a man of brilliant attainments,
+resourceful, dashing, spirited and, moreover, a fine
+seaman, but a certain impetuosity, amounting at times to
+recklessness, just prevented his attaining the highest rank
+in his profession. In character he was as straight as a die,
+and kindly, generous, and openhanded to a fault, but he
+was improvident and inclined to live too much in the
+present. And these characteristics were destined to affect
+his son’s life, not only directly through heredity, but
+indirectly through environment also.</p>
+
+<p>When Maxwell was nine his father died suddenly, and
+then it was found that the commander had been living up
+to his income and had made but scant provision for his
+widow and son and daughter. Dreams of Harrow and
+Cambridge had to be abandoned and, instead, the boy was
+educated at the local grammar school, and then entered
+the office of a Fenchurch Street shipping firm as junior
+clerk.</p>
+
+<p>In his twentieth year the family fortunes were again
+reversed. His mother came in for a legacy from an uncle,
+a sheep farmer in Australia. It was not a fortune, but it
+meant a fairly substantial competence. Mrs. Cheyne bought
+back Warren Lodge, their old home, a small Georgian
+house standing in pleasant grounds on the estuary of the
+Dart. Maxwell thereupon threw up his job at the shipping
+office, followed his mother to Devonshire, and settled down
+to the leisurely life of a country gentleman. Among other
+hobbies he dabbled spasmodically in literature, producing
+a couple of novels, one of which was published and sold
+with fair success.</p>
+
+<p>But the sea was in his blood. He bought a yacht, and
+with the help of the gardener’s son, Dan, sailed her in
+fair weather and foul, thereby gaining skill and judgment
+in things nautical, as well as a first-hand knowledge of the
+shores and tides and currents of the western portion of the
+English Channel.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it came to pass that when, three years after the
+return to Devon, the war broke out, he volunteered for the
+navy and was at once accepted. There he served with
+enthusiasm if not with distinction, gaining very much the
+reputation which his father had held before him. During
+the intensive submarine campaign he was wounded in an
+action with a U-boat, which resulted in his being invalided
+out of the service. On demobilization he returned home and
+took up his former pursuits of yachting, literature, and
+generally having as slack and easy a time as his energetic
+nature would allow. Some eighteen months passed, and
+then occurred the incident which might be said definitely
+to begin his Adventure.</p>
+
+<p>One damp and bleak March day Cheyne set out for
+Plymouth from Warren Lodge, his home on the estuary of
+the Dart. He wished to make a number of small purchases,
+and his mother and sister had entrusted him with
+commissions. Also he desired to consult his banker as to some
+question of investments. With a full program before him
+he pulled on his oilskins, and having assured his mother
+he would be back in time for dinner, he mounted his
+motor bicycle and rode off.</p>
+
+<p>In due course he reached Plymouth, left his machine at
+a garage, and set about his business. About one o’clock he
+gravitated towards the Edgecombe Hotel, where after a
+cocktail he sat down in the lounge to rest for a few
+minutes before lunch.</p>
+
+<p>He was looking idly over <i>The Times</i> when the voice of
+a page broke in on his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>“Gentleman to see you, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>The card which the boy held out bore in fine script the
+legend: “Mr. Hubert Parkes, Oakleigh, Cleeve Hill,
+Cheltenham.” Cheyne pondered, but he could not recall anyone
+of the name, and it passed through his mind that the page
+had probably made a mistake.</p>
+
+<p>“Where is he?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Here sir,” the boy answered, and a short, stoutly built
+man of middle age with fair hair and a toothbrush
+mustache stepped forward. A glance assured Cheyne that
+he was a stranger.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Maxwell Cheyne?” the newcomer inquired
+politely.</p>
+
+<p>“My name, sir. Won’t you sit down?” Cheyne pulled an
+easy chair over towards his own.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you before, Mr.
+Cheyne,” the other went on as he seated himself, “though
+I knew your father fairly intimately. I lived for many years
+at Valetta, running the Maltese end of a produce company
+with which I was then connected, and I met him when
+his ship was stationed there. A great favorite, Captain
+Cheyne was! The dull old club used to brighten up when
+he came in, and it seemed a national loss when his ship
+was withdrawn to another station.”</p>
+
+<p>“I remember his being in Malta,” Cheyne returned,
+“though I was quite a small boy at the time. My mother
+has a photograph of Valetta, showing his ship lying in the
+Grand Harbor.”</p>
+
+<p>They chatted about Malta and produce company work
+therein for some minutes, and then Mr. Parkes said:</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Mr. Cheyne, though it is a pleasure to make the
+acquaintance of the son of my old friend, it was not merely
+with that object that I introduced myself. I have, as a
+matter of fact, a definite piece of business which I should
+like to discuss with you. It takes the form of a certain
+proposition of which I would invite your acceptance, I
+hope, to our mutual advantage.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne, somewhat surprised, murmured polite expressions
+of anxiety to hear details and the other went on:</p>
+
+<p>“I think before I explain the thing fully another small
+matter wants to be attended to. What about a little lunch?
+I’m just going to have mine and I shall take it as a favor
+if you will join me. After that we could talk business.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne readily agreed and the other called over a waiter
+and gave him an order. “Let us have a cocktail,” he went
+on, “and by that time lunch will be ready.”</p>
+
+<p>They strolled to the bar and there partook of a wonderful
+American concoction recommended by the young lady
+in charge. Presently the waiter reappeared and led the way,
+somewhat to Cheyne’s surprise, to a private room. There
+an excellent repast was served, to which both men did full
+justice. Parkes proved an agreeable and well informed
+companion and Cheyne enjoyed his conversation. The
+newcomer had, it appeared, seen a good deal of war service,
+having held the rank of major in the department of supply,
+serving first at Gallipoli and then at Salonica. Cheyne
+knew the latter port, his ship having called there on three
+or four occasions, and the two men found they had various
+experiences in common. Time passed pleasantly until at
+last Parkes drew a couple of arm chairs up to the fire,
+ordered coffee, and held out his cigar case.</p>
+
+<p>“With your permission I’ll put my little proposition now.
+It is in connection with your literary work and I’m afraid
+it’s bound to sound a trifle impertinent. But I can assure
+you it’s not meant to be so.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“You needn’t be afraid of hurting my feelings,” he
+declared. “I have a notion of the real value of my work.
+Get along anyway and let’s hear.”</p>
+
+<p>Parkes resumed with some hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>“I have to say first that I have read everything that you
+have published and I am immensely impressed by your
+style. I think you do your descriptions extraordinarily well.
+Your scenes are vivid and one feels that one is living
+through them. There’s money in that, Mr. Cheyne, in that
+gift of vivid and interest-compelling presentation. You
+should make a good thing out of short stories. I’ve worked
+at them for years and I know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh. I haven’t found much money in it.”</p>
+
+<p>Parkes nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“I know you haven’t, or rather I guessed so. And if you
+don’t mind, I’ll tell you why.” He sat up and a keener
+interest crept into his manner. “There’s a fault in those
+stories of yours, a bad fault, and it’s in the construction.
+But let’s leave that for the moment and you’ll see where
+all this is leading.”</p>
+
+<p>He broke off as a waiter arrived with the coffee,
+resuming:</p>
+
+<p>“Now I have a strong dramatic sense and a good working
+knowledge of literary construction. As I said I’ve also tried
+short stories, and though they’ve not been an absolute
+failure, I couldn’t say they’ve been really successful. On the
+whole, I should think, yours have done better. And I know
+why. It’s my style. I try to produce a tale, say, of a
+shipwreck. It is intended to be full of human feeling, to grip
+the reader’s emotion. But it doesn’t. It reads like a Board
+of Trade report. Dry, you understand; not interesting. Now,
+Mr. Cheyne,” he sat up in his chair once more, this time
+almost in excitement, “you see what I’m coming to. Why
+should we not collaborate? Let me do the plots and you
+clothe them. Between us we have all the essentials for
+success.”</p>
+
+<p>He sat back and then saw the coffee.</p>
+
+<p>“I say,” he exclaimed, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t notice this
+had come. I hope it’s not cold.” He felt the coffee pot.
+“What about a liquor? I’ll ring for one. Or rather,” he
+paused suddenly. “I think I’ve got something perhaps even
+better here.” He put his hand in his pocket and drew out
+a small flask. “Old Cognac,” he said. “You’ll try a little?”</p>
+
+<p>He poured some of the golden brown liquid into
+Cheyne’s cup and was about to do the same into his own
+when he was seized with a sudden fit of choking coughing.
+He had to put down the flask while he quivered and shook
+with the paroxysm. Presently he recovered, breathless.</p>
+
+<p>“Since I was wounded,” he gasped apologetically, “I’ve
+been taken like that. The doctors say it’s purely nervous—that
+my throat and lungs and so on are perfectly sound.
+Strange the different ways this war leaves its mark!”</p>
+
+<p>He picked up the flask, poured a liberal measure of its
+contents into his own cup, drank off the contents with
+evident relish and continued:</p>
+
+<p>“What I had in my mind, if you’ll consider it, was a
+series of short stories—say a dozen—on the merchant marine
+in the war. This is the spring of 1920. Soon no one will
+read anything connected with the war, but I think that
+time has scarcely come yet. I have fair knowledge of the
+subject and yours of course is first hand. What do you
+say? I will supply twelve plots or incidents and you will
+clothe them with, say, five thousand words each. We shall
+sell them to <i>The Strand</i> or some of those monthlies, and
+afterwards publish them as a collection in book form.”</p>
+
+<p>“By Jove!” Cheyne said as he slowly sipped his coffee.
+“The idea’s rather tempting. But I wish I could feel as
+sure as you seem to do about my own style. I’m afraid I
+don’t believe that it is as good as you pretend.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Cheyne,” Parkes answered deliberately, “you may
+take my word for it that I know what I am talking about.
+I shouldn’t have come to you if I weren’t sure. Very few
+people are satisfied with their own work. No matter how
+good it is it falls short of the standard they have set in
+their minds. It is another case in which the outsider sees
+most of the game.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne felt attracted by the proposal. He had written
+in all seventeen short stories, and of these only three had
+been accepted, and those by inferior magazines. If it would
+lead to success he would be only too delighted to
+collaborate with this pleasant stranger. It wasn’t so much the
+money—though he was not such a fool as to make light
+of that part of it. It was success he wanted, acceptance of
+his stuff by good periodicals, a name and a standing
+among his fellow craftsmen.</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s see what it would mean,” he heard Parkes’s voice,
+and it seemed strangely faint and distant. “I suppose,
+given the synopses, you could finish a couple of tales per
+week—say, six weeks for the lot. And with luck we should
+sell for £50 to £100 each—say £500 for your six week’s
+work, or nearly £100 per week. And there might be any
+amount more for the book rights, filming and so on. Does
+the idea appeal to you, Mr. Cheyne?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne did not reply. He was feeling sleepy. Did the
+idea appeal to him? Yes. No. Did it? Did the idea . . . the
+idea . . . Drat this sleepiness! What was he thinking of?
+Did the idea . . . What idea? . . . He gave up the struggle
+and, leaning back in his chair, sank into a profound and
+dreamless slumber.</p>
+
+<p>Ages of time passed and Cheyne slowly struggled back
+into consciousness. As soon as he was sufficiently awake to
+analyze his sensations he realized that his brain was dull
+and clouded and his limbs heavy as lead. He was, however,
+physically comfortable, and he was content to allow his
+body to remain relaxed and motionless and his mind to
+dream idly on without conscious thought. But his energy
+gradually returned and at last he opened his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He was lying, dressed, on a bed in a strange room.
+Apparently it was night, for the room was dark save for
+the light on the window blind which seemed to come from
+a street lamp without. Vaguely interested, he closed his
+eyes again, and when he reopened them the room was
+lighted up and a man was standing beside the bed.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah,” the man said, “you’re awake. Better, I hope?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” Cheyne answered, and it seemed to him
+as if some one else was speaking. “Have I been ill?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” the man returned, “Not that I know of. But
+you’ve slept like a log for nearly six hours.”</p>
+
+<p>This was confusing. Cheyne paused to take in the idea,
+but it eluded him, then giving up the effort, he asked
+another question.</p>
+
+<p>“Where am I?”</p>
+
+<p>“In the Edgecombe: the Edgecombe Hotel, you know,
+in Plymouth. I am the manager.”</p>
+
+<p>Ah, yes! It was coming back to him. He had gone there
+for lunch—was it today or a century ago?—and he had
+met that literary man—what was his name? He couldn’t
+remember. And they had had lunch and the man had
+made some suggestion about his writing. Yes, of course! It
+was all coming back now. The man had wanted to
+collaborate with him. And during the conversation he had
+suddenly felt sleepy. He supposed he must have fallen
+asleep then, for he remembered nothing more. But why
+had he felt sleepy like that? Suddenly his brain cleared
+and he sat up sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s happened, Mr. Jesse? I never did anything like
+this before!”</p>
+
+<p>“No?” the manager answered. “I dare say not. I’ll tell
+you what has happened to you, Mr. Cheyne, though I’m
+sorry to have to admit it could have taken place in my
+hotel. You’ve been drugged. That’s what has happened.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne stared incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>“Good Lord!” he ejaculated. “Drugged! By—not by
+that literary man, surely?” He paused in amazed
+consternation and then his hand flew to his pocket. “My money,”
+he gasped. “I had over £100 in my pocket. Just got it at
+the bank.” He drew out a pocket-book and examined it
+hurriedly. “No,” he went on more quietly. “It’s all right.”
+He took from it a bundle of notes and with care counted
+them. “A hundred and eight pounds. That’s quite correct.
+My watch? No, it’s here.” He got up unsteadily, and rapidly
+went through his pockets. “Nothing missing anyway. Are
+you sure I was drugged? I don’t understand the thing a
+little bit.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am afraid there is no doubt about it. You seemed so
+ill that I sent for a doctor. He said you were suffering
+from the effects of a drug, but were in no danger and
+would be all right in a few hours. He advised that you be
+left quietly to sleep it off.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne rubbed his hand over his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t understand it,” he repeated. “Tell me exactly
+what happened.”</p>
+
+<p>“About three o’clock or shortly before it, Mr. Parkes
+appeared at the office and asked for his bill. He paid it,
+complimented the clerk on the excellent lunch he had had,
+and left the hotel. He was perfectly calm and collected
+and quite unhurried. Shortly after the waiter went up to
+clear away the things and he found you lying back in your
+chair, apparently asleep, but breathing so heavily that he
+was uneasy and he came and told me. I went up at once
+and was also rather alarmed at your condition, so I sent
+at once for the doctor.”</p>
+
+<p>“But,” Cheyne objected, “that’s all right, only I <em>wasn’t</em>
+drugged. I know exactly what I ate and drank, and Parkes
+had precisely the same. If I was drugged, he must have
+been also, and you say he wasn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“He certainly was not. But think again, Mr. Cheyne.
+Are you really quite certain that he had no opportunity of
+putting powder over your food or liquid into your drink?
+Did he divert your attention at any time from the table?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was silent. He had remembered the flask of old
+brandy.</p>
+
+<p>“He put cognac in my coffee from his own flask,” he
+admitted at length, “but it couldn’t have been that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah,” the manager answered in a satisfied tone, “it <em>was</em>
+that, I should swear. Why don’t you think so?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell you why I don’t think so; why, in fact, I know
+it wasn’t. He put an even larger dose out of the same flask
+into his own cup and he drank his coffee before I drank
+mine. So that if there was anything in the flask he would
+have got knocked over first.”</p>
+
+<p>The manager looked puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t think me discourteous, Mr. Cheyne, but I confess
+I have my doubts about that. That episode of the flask
+looks too suspicious. Are you sure it was the same flask in
+each case? Did he pour straight into one cup after the
+other or was there an interval in between? You realize of
+course that a clever conjurer could substitute a second
+flask for the first without attracting your notice?”</p>
+
+<p>“I realize that right enough, but I am positive he didn’t
+do so in this case. Though,” he paused for a moment,
+“that reminds me that there was an interval between
+pouring into each cup. He got a fit of coughing after giving
+me mine and had to put down the flask. But when the
+paroxysm was over he lifted it again and helped himself.”</p>
+
+<p>“There you are,” the manager declared. “During his fit
+of coughing he substituted a different flask.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll swear he didn’t. But can’t we settle the thing
+beyond doubt? Have the cups been washed? If not, can’t
+we get the dregs analyzed?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have already asked the doctor to have it done. He
+said he would get Mr. Pringle to do it at once: that’s the
+city analyst. They’re close friends, and Mr. Pringle would
+do it to oblige him. We should have his report quite soon.
+I am also having him analyze the remains on the plates
+which were used. Fortunately, owing to lunch being served
+in a private room, these had been stacked together and
+none had been washed. So we should be able to settle the
+matter quite definitely.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne nodded as he glanced at his watch. “Good
+Lord!” he cried, “it’s eight o’clock and I said I should be
+home by seven! I must ring up my mother or she’ll think
+something is wrong.”</p>
+
+<p>The Cheynes had not themselves a telephone, but their
+nearest neighbors, people called Hazelton, were
+good-natured about receiving an occasional message through
+theirs and transmitting it to Warren Lodge. Cheyne went
+down to the lounge and put through his call, explaining
+to Mrs. Hazelton that unforeseen circumstances had
+necessitated his remaining overnight in Plymouth. The lady
+promised to have the message conveyed to Mrs. Cheyne
+and Maxwell rang off. Then as he turned to the dining
+room, a page told him that the manager would like to see
+him in his office.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve just got a report from the doctor about that
+coffee, Mr. Cheyne,” the other greeted him, “and I must
+say it confirms what you say, though it by no means clears
+up the mystery. There was brandy in those cups, but no
+drug: no trace of a drug in either.”</p>
+
+<p>“I knew that,” Cheyne rejoined. “Everything that I had
+for lunch Parkes had also. I was there and I ought to
+know. But it’s a bit unsettling, isn’t it? Looks as if my
+heart or something had gone wrong.”</p>
+
+<p>The manager looked at him more seriously. “Oh, I don’t
+think so,” he dissented. “I don’t think you can assume
+that. The doctor seemed quite satisfied. But if it would
+ease your mind, why not slip across now and see him? He
+lives just round the corner.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne reflected.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll do so,” he answered presently. “If there’s nothing
+wrong it will prevent me fancying things, and if there is
+I should know of it. I’ll have some dinner and then go
+across. By the way, have you said anything to the police?”</p>
+
+<p>The manager hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>“No, I have not. I don’t know that we’ve evidence
+enough. But in any case, Mr. Cheyne, I trust you do not
+wish to call in the police.” The manager seemed quite
+upset by the idea and spoke earnestly. “It would not do
+the hotel any good if it became known that a visitor had
+been drugged. I sincerely trust, sir, that you can see your
+way to keep the matter quiet.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne stared.</p>
+
+<p>“But you surely don’t suggest that I should take the
+thing lying down? If I have been drugged, as you say, I
+must know who has done it, and why. That would seem
+to me obvious.”</p>
+
+<p>“I agree,” the manager admitted, “and I should feel
+precisely the same in your place. But it is not necessary to
+apply to the police. A private detective would get you the
+information quite as well. See here, Mr. Cheyne, I will
+make you an offer. If you will agree to the affair being
+hushed up, I will employ the detective on behalf of the
+hotel. He will work under your direction and keep you
+advised of every step he takes. Come now, sir, is it a
+bargain?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne did not hesitate.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes,” he said promptly, “that will suit me all right.
+I don’t specially want to advertise the fact that I have
+been made a fool of. But I’d like to know what has really
+happened.”</p>
+
+<p>“You shall, Mr. Cheyne. No stone shall be left unturned
+to get at the truth. I’ll see about a detective at once.
+You’ll have some dinner, sir?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was not hungry, but he was very thirsty, and he
+had a light meal with a number of long drinks. Then he
+went round to see the doctor, to whom the manager had
+telephoned, making an appointment.</p>
+
+<p>After a thorough examination he received the verdict.
+It was a relief to his mind, but it did not tend to clear up
+the mystery. He was physically perfectly sound, and his
+sleep of the afternoon was not the result of disease or
+weakness. He had been drugged. That was the beginning
+and the end of the affair. The doctor was quite emphatic
+and ridiculed the idea of any other explanation.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne returned to the Edgecombe, and sitting down
+in a deserted corner of the lounge, tried to puzzle the
+thing out. But the more he thought of it, the more
+mysterious it became. His mind up till then had been
+concentrated on the actual administration of the drug, and
+this point alone still seemed to constitute an insoluble
+problem. But now he saw that it was but a small part of
+the mystery. <em>Why</em> had he been drugged? It was not
+robbery. Though he had over £100 in his pocket, the money
+was intact. He had no other valuables about him, and in
+any case nothing had been removed from his pockets. It
+was not to prevent his going to any place. He had not
+intended to do anything that afternoon that could
+possibly interest a stranger. No, he could form no conception
+of the motive.</p>
+
+<p>But even more puzzling than this was the question:
+How did Parkes, if that was really his name, know that
+he, Cheyne, was coming to Plymouth that day? It was
+true that he had mentioned it to his mother and sister a
+couple of days previously, but he had told no one else and
+he felt sure that neither had they. But the man had almost
+certainly been expecting him. At least it was hard to
+believe that the whole episode had been merely the fruits
+of a chance encounter. On the other hand there was the
+difficulty that any other suggestion seemed even more
+unlikely. Parkes simply <em>couldn’t</em> have known that he,
+Cheyne, was coming. It was just inconceivable.</p>
+
+<p>He lay back in his deep armchair, the smoke of his pipe
+curling lazily up, as he racked his brains for some theory
+which would at least partially meet the facts. But without
+success. He could think of nothing which threw a gleam
+of light on the situation.</p>
+
+<p>And then he made a discovery which still further
+befogged him and made him swear with exasperation.
+He had taken out his pocket-book and was once more
+going through its contents to make absolutely sure
+nothing was missing, when he came to a piece of folded paper
+bearing memoranda about the money matters which he
+had discussed with his banker. He had not opened this
+when he had looked through the book after regaining
+consciousness, but now half absent-mindedly he unfolded it.
+As he did so he stared. Near the crease was a slight tear,
+unquestionably made by some one unfolding it hurriedly
+or carelessly. But that tear had not been there when he
+had folded it up. He could swear to it. Someone therefore
+had been through his pockets while he was asleep.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch02">
+
+<h2>Chapter II. <br> Burglary!</h2>
+
+<p>The discovery that his pockets had been gone through
+while he was under the influence of the drug reduced
+Cheyne to a state of even more complete mystification
+than ever. What <em>had</em> the unknown been looking for? He,
+Cheyne, had nothing with him that, so far as he could
+imagine, could possibly have interested any other person.
+Indeed, money being ruled out, he did not know that he
+possessed anywhere any paper or small object which it
+would be worth a stranger’s while to steal.</p>
+
+<p>Novels he had read recurred to him in which desperate
+enterprises were undertaken to obtain some document of
+importance. Plans of naval or military inventions which
+would give world supremacy to the power possessing them
+were perhaps the favorite instruments in these romances,
+but treaties which would mean war if disclosed to the
+wrong power, maps of desert islands on which treasure
+was buried, wills of which the existence was generally
+unknown and letters compromising the good name of
+wealthy personages had all been used time and again. But
+Cheyne had no plans or treaties or compromising letters
+from which an astute thief might make capital. Think as he
+would, he could frame no theory to account for Parkes’s
+proceedings.</p>
+
+<p>He yawned and, getting up, began to pace the deserted
+lounge. The effects of the drug had not entirely worn off,
+for though he had slept all the afternoon he still felt slack
+and drowsy. In spite of its being scarcely ten o’clock, he
+thought he would have a whisky and go up to bed, in the
+hope that a good night’s rest would drive the poison out of
+his system and restore his usual feeling of mental and
+physical well-being.</p>
+
+<p>But Fate, once more in the guise of an approaching
+page, decreed otherwise. As he turned lazily towards the
+bar a voice sounded in his ear.</p>
+
+<p>“Wanted on the telephone, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne crossed the hall and entered the booth.</p>
+
+<p>“Well?” he said shortly. “Cheyne speaking.”</p>
+
+<p>A woman’s voice replied, a voice he recognized. It
+belonged to Ethel Hazelton, the grown-up daughter of that
+Mrs. Hazelton whom he had asked to inform Mrs.
+Cheyne of his change of plans. She spoke hurriedly and he
+could sense perturbation in her tones.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Mr. Cheyne, I’m afraid I have rather disturbing
+news for you. When you rang up we sent James over to
+Warren Lodge. He found Mrs. Cheyne and Agatha on the
+doorstep trying to get in. They had been ringing for some
+time, but could not attract attention. He rang also, and
+then eventually found a ladder and got in through one of
+the upper windows. He opened the door for Mrs. Cheyne
+and Agatha. Can you hear me all right?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, clearly. Go on, please, Miss Hazelton.”</p>
+
+<p>“They searched the house and they discovered cook and
+Susan in their bedrooms, both tied up and gagged, but
+otherwise none the worse. They released them, of course,
+and then found that the house had been burgled.”</p>
+
+<p>“Burgled!” Cheyne ejaculated sharply. “Great Scott!”
+He was considerably startled and paused in some
+consternation, asking then if much stuff was missing.</p>
+
+<p>“They don’t know,” the distant voice answered. “Your
+safe had been opened, but they hadn’t had time to make
+an examination when James left. The silver seems to be
+all there, so that’s something. James came back here with
+a message from Mrs. Cheyne asking us to let you know,
+and I have been ringing up hotels in Plymouth for the last
+half hour. You know, you only said you were staying the
+night in your message; you didn’t say where. Mrs. Cheyne
+would like you to come back if you can manage it.”</p>
+
+<p>There was no hesitation about Cheyne’s reply.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course I shall,” he said quickly. “I’ll start at once
+on my bicycle. What about telling the police?”</p>
+
+<p>“I rang them up immediately. They said they would go
+out at once. James has gone back also. He will stay and
+lend a hand until you arrive.”</p>
+
+<p>“Splendid! It’s more than good of you both, Miss
+Hazelton. I can’t thank you enough. I’ll be there in less
+than an hour.”</p>
+
+<p>He delayed only to tell the news to the manager.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s the explanation of this afternoon’s affair at all
+events,” he declared. “I was evidently fixed up so that I
+couldn’t butt in and spoil sport. But it’s good-bye to your
+keeping it quiet. The police have been called in already
+and the whole thing is bound to come out.”</p>
+
+<p>The manager made a gesture of concern.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sorry to hear your news,” he said gravely. “Are
+you properly insured?”</p>
+
+<p>“Partially. I don’t know if it will cover the loss because
+I don’t know what’s gone. But I must be getting away.”</p>
+
+<p>He was moving off, but the manager laid a detaining
+hand on his arm.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’m extremely sorry about it. But see here, Mr.
+Cheyne, it may not prove to be necessary to bring in about
+the drugging. It would injure the hotel. I sincerely trust
+you’ll do what you can in the matter, and if you find the
+private detective sufficient, you’ll let our arrangement
+stand.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll decide when I hear just what has happened. You’ll
+let me have a copy of the analyst’s report?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course. Directly I get it I shall send it on.”</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later Cheyne was passing through the
+outskirts of Plymouth on his way east. The night was fine,
+the mists of the day having cleared away, and a
+three-quarter moon shone brilliantly out of a blue-black sky.
+Keenly anxious to reach home and learn the details of the
+burglary and the extent of his loss, Cheyne crammed on
+every ounce of power, and his machine snored along the
+deserted road at well over forty miles an hour. In spite of
+slacks for villages and curves he made a record run,
+turning into the gate of Warren Lodge at just ten minutes
+before eleven.</p>
+
+<p>As he approached the house everything looked normal.
+But when he let himself in this impression was dispelled,
+for a constable stood in the hall, who, saluting, informed
+him that Sergeant Kirby was within and in charge.</p>
+
+<p>But Cheyne’s first concern was with his mother and
+sister. An inquiry produced the information that the two
+ladies were waiting for him in the drawing room, and
+thither he at once betook himself.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cheyne was a frail little woman who looked ten
+years older than her age of something under sixty. She
+welcomed her son with a little cry of pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I am relieved to see you, Maxwell,” she cried.
+“I’m so glad you were able to come. Isn’t this a terrible
+business?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know, mother,” Cheyne answered cheerily,
+“that depends. I hear no one is any the worse. Has much
+stuff been stolen?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing!” Mrs. Cheyne’s tone conveyed the wonder
+she evidently felt. “Nothing whatever! Or at least we
+can’t find that anything is missing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Unless something may have been taken from your
+safe,” Agatha interposed. “Was there much in it?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, only a few pounds and some papers, none valuable
+to an outsider.” He glanced at his sister. She was a pretty
+girl, tall and dark and in features not unlike himself. Both
+the young people had favored the late commander’s side
+of the house. He turned towards the door, continuing:
+“I’ll go and have a look, and then you can tell me what
+has happened.”</p>
+
+<p>The safe was built into the wall in his own sanctum,
+“the study,” as his mother persisted in calling it. It had
+been taken over with the house when Mrs. Cheyne
+bought the little estate. As Cheyne now entered he saw that
+its doors were standing open. A tall man in the uniform
+of a sergeant of police was stooping over it. He turned as
+he heard the newcomer’s step.</p>
+
+<p>“Good-evening sir,” he said in an impressive tone. “This
+is a bad business.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, I don’t know, sergeant,” Cheyne answered
+easily. “If no one has been hurt and nothing has been
+stolen it might have been worse.”</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant stared at him with some disfavor.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s not much but what might have been worse,”
+he observed oracularly. “But we’re not sure yet that
+nothing’s been stolen. Nobody knows what was in this here
+safe, except maybe yourself. I’d be glad if you’d have a
+look and see if anything is gone.”</p>
+
+<p>There was very little in the safe and it did not take
+Cheyne many seconds to go through it. The papers were
+tossed about—he could swear someone had turned them
+over—but none seemed to have been removed. The small
+packet of Treasury notes was intact and a number of gold
+and silver medals, won in athletic contests, were all in
+evidence.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing missing there, sergeant,” he declared when he
+had finished.</p>
+
+<p>His eye wandered round the room. There was not much
+of value in it; one or two silver bowls—athletic trophies
+also, a small gold clock of Indian workmanship, a pair of
+high-power prism binoculars and a few ornaments were
+about all that could be turned into money. But all these
+were there, undisturbed. It was true that the glass door of
+a locked bookcase had been broken to enable the bolt to
+be unfastened and the doors opened, but none of the
+books seemed to have been touched.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you think they were after, sir?” the sergeant
+queried. “Was there any jewelry in the house that they
+might have heard of?”</p>
+
+<p>“My mother has a few trinkets, but I scarcely think you
+could dignify them by the name of jewelry. I suppose
+these precious burglars have left no kind of clue?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, nothing. Except maybe the girls’ description.
+I’ve telephoned that into headquarters and the men will
+be on the lookout.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good. Well, if you can wait here a few minutes I’ll
+go and send my mother to bed and then I’ll come back
+and we can settle what’s to be done.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne returned to the drawing room and told his
+news. “Nothing’s been taken,” he declared. “I’ve been
+through the safe and everything’s there. And nothing
+seems to be missing from the room either. The sergeant
+was asking about your jewels, mother. Have you looked to
+see if they’re all right?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was the first thing I thought of, but they are all in
+their places. The cabinet I keep them in was certainly
+examined, for everything was left topsy-turvy, but nothing
+is missing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very extraordinary,” Cheyne commented. It seemed to
+him more than ever clear that these mysterious thieves were
+after some document which they believed he had, though
+why they should have supposed he held a valuable
+document he could not imagine. But the searching first of his
+pockets and then of his safe and house unmistakably
+suggested such a conclusion. He wondered if he should
+advance this theory, then decided he would first hear what
+the others had to say.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, mother,” he went on, “it’s past your bedtime, but
+before you go I wish you would tell me what happened to
+you. Remember I have heard no details other than what
+Miss Hazelton mentioned on the telephone.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cheyne answered with some eagerness, evidently
+anxious to relieve her mind by relating her experiences.</p>
+
+<p>“The first thing was the telegram,” she began. “Agatha
+and I were sitting here this afternoon. I was sewing and
+Agatha was reading the paper—or was it the <i>Spectator</i>,
+Agatha?”</p>
+
+<p>“The paper, mother, though that does not really
+matter.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, of course it doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Cheyne repeated.
+It was evident the old lady had had a shock and found it
+difficult to concentrate her attention. “Well, at all events
+we were sitting here as I have said, sewing and reading,
+when your telegram was brought in.”</p>
+
+<p>“<em>My</em> telegram?” Cheyne queried sharply. “What
+telegram do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, your telegram about Mr. Ackfield, of course,” his
+mother answered with some petulance. “What other
+telegram could it be? It did not give us much time, but—”</p>
+
+<p>“But, mother dear, I don’t know what you are talking
+about. I sent no telegram.”</p>
+
+<p>Agatha made a sudden gesture.</p>
+
+<p>“There!” she exclaimed eagerly. “What did I say? When
+we came home and learned what had happened and
+thought of your not turning up,” she glanced at her
+brother, “I said it was only a blind. It was sent to get us
+away from the house!”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne shrugged his shoulders good-humoredly. What
+he had half expected had evidently taken place.</p>
+
+<p>“Dear people,” he protested, “this is worse than getting
+blood from a stone. Do tell me what has happened. You
+were sitting here this afternoon when you received a
+telegram. Very well now, what time was that?”</p>
+
+<p>“What time? Oh, about—what time did the telegram
+come, Agatha?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just as the clock was striking four. I heard it strike
+immediately after the ring.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good,” said Cheyne in what he imagined was the
+manner of a cross-examining K.C. “And what was in the
+telegram?”</p>
+
+<p>The girl was evidently too much upset by her experience
+to resent his superior tone. She crossed the room, and
+taking a flimsy pink form from a table, handed it over to him.</p>
+
+<p>The telegram had been sent out from the General Post
+Office in Plymouth at 3:17 that afternoon, and read:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+  <p>You and Agatha please come without fail to Newton Abbot by
+  5:15 train to meet self and Ackfield about unexpected financial
+  development. Urgent that you sign papers today. Ackfield will
+  return Plymouth after meeting. You and I will catch 7:10 home
+  from Newton Abbot — <span class="signature">Maxwell</span>.</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Three-seventeen; and Parkes left the Edgecombe about
+three! It seemed pretty certain that he had sent the
+telegram. But if so, what an amazing amount the man knew
+about them all! Not only had he known of Cheyne’s war
+experiences and literary efforts and of his visit that day to
+the Edgecombe, but now it seemed that he had also known
+his address, of his mother and sister, and, most amazing
+thing of all, of the fact that Mr. Ackfield of Plymouth was
+their lawyer and confidential adviser! Moreover, he had
+evidently known that the ladies were at home as well as
+that they alone comprised the family. Surely, Cheyne
+thought, comparatively few people possessed all this
+knowledge, and the finding of Parkes should therefore be
+a correspondingly easy task.</p>
+
+<p>“Extraordinary!” he said aloud. “And what did you do?”</p>
+
+<p>“We got a taxi,” Mrs. Cheyne answered. “Agatha
+arranged it by telephone from Mrs. Hazelton’s. You tell
+him, Agatha. I’m rather tired.”</p>
+
+<p>The old lady indeed looked worn out and Cheyne
+interposed a suggestion that she should go at once to bed,
+leaving Agatha to finish the story. But she refused and her
+daughter took up the tale.</p>
+
+<p>“We caught the 5:15 ferry and went on to Newton
+Abbot. But when the Plymouth train came in there was no
+sign of you or Mr. Ackfield, so we sat in the waiting-room
+until the 7:10. I telephoned for a taxi to meet the ferry.
+It brought us to the door about half-past eight, but
+unfortunately it went away before we found we couldn’t get in.”</p>
+
+<p>“You rang?”</p>
+
+<p>“We rang, and knocked, but could get no answer. The
+house was in darkness and we began to fear something
+was wrong. Then just as I was about to leave mother in
+the summer-house and run up to the Hazeltons’ to see if
+James was there, he appeared to say that you were staying
+in Plymouth overnight. He rang and knocked again. But
+still no one came. Then he tried the windows on the
+ground floor, but they were all fastened, and at last he got
+the ladder from the yard and managed to get in through
+the window of your dressing room. He came down and
+opened the door and we got in.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what did you find?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing at first. We wondered where the maids could
+possibly have got to, or what could have happened. I
+found your electric torch and we began to search the
+rooms. Then we saw that your safe had been broken open
+and we knew it was burglary. That terrified us on account
+of the maids and we wondered if they had been decoyed
+away also. I don’t mind admitting now that I was just
+shaking with fear lest we should find that they had been
+injured or even murdered. But it wasn’t so bad as that.”</p>
+
+<p>“They were tied up?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, we found them in cook’s bedroom, lying on the
+floor with their hands and feet tied, and gagged. They
+were both very weak and could scarcely stand when we
+released them. They told us—but you’d better see them
+and hear what they have to say. They’re not gone to bed
+yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’ll see them directly. What did you do then?”</p>
+
+<p>“As soon as we were satisfied the burglars had gone
+James went home to call up the police. Then he came
+back and we began a second search to see what had been
+stolen. But the more we looked, the more surprised we
+became. We couldn’t find that anything had been taken.”</p>
+
+<p>“Extraordinary!” Cheyne commented again. “And
+then?”</p>
+
+<p>“After a time the police came out, and then James went
+home again to see whether they had been able to get in
+touch with you. He came back and told us you would be
+here by eleven. He had only just gone when you arrived.
+I really can’t say how kind and helpful he has been.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, James is a good fellow. Now you and mother get
+to bed and I’ll fix things up with the police.”</p>
+
+<p>He turned his steps to the kitchen, where he found the
+two maids shivering over a roaring fire and drinking tea.
+They stood up as he entered, but he told them to sit down
+again, asked for a cup for himself, and seating himself on
+the table chatted pleasantly before obtaining their
+statements. They had evidently had a bad fright and cook still
+seemed hysterical. As he sat he looked at them curiously.</p>
+
+<p>Cook was an elderly woman, small and plain and stout.
+She had been with them since they had bought the house,
+and though he had not seen much of her, she had always
+seemed good-tempered and obliging. He had heard his
+mother speak well of her and he was sorry she should have
+had so distressing an experience. But he didn’t fancy she
+would be one to give burglars much trouble.</p>
+
+<p>Susan, the parlormaid, was of a different quality. She
+was tall with rather heavy features, and good looking
+after a somewhat coarse type. If a trifle sullen in manner,
+she was competent and by no means a fool, and he felt
+that nefarious marauders would find her a force to be
+reckoned with.</p>
+
+<p>By dint of patient questioning he presently knew all
+they had to tell. It appeared that shortly after the ladies
+had left a ring had come at the door. Susan had opened it
+to find two men standing outside. One was tall and
+powerfully built, with dark hair and clean shaven, the
+other small and pale—pale face, pale hair, and tiny pale
+mustache. They had inquired for Mr. Maxwell Cheyne,
+and when she had said he was out the small man had
+asked if he could write a note. She had brought them into
+the hall and was turning to go for some paper when the
+big man had sprung on her and before she could cry out
+had pressed a handkerchief over her mouth. The small
+man had shut the door and begun to tie her wrists and
+ankles. Susan had struggled and in spite of them had
+succeeded in getting her mouth free and shouting a warning
+to cook, but she had been immediately overpowered and
+securely gagged. The men had laid her on the floor of the
+hall and had seemed about to go upstairs when cook,
+attracted by Susan’s cry, had appeared at the door leading
+to the back premises. The two men had instantly rushed
+over, and in a few seconds cook also lay bound and
+gagged on the floor. They had then disappeared, apparently
+to search the house, for in a few minutes they had come
+back and carried first Susan and then cook to the latter’s
+room at the far end of the back part of the house. The
+intruders had then withdrawn, closing the door, and the
+two women had neither heard nor seen anything further
+of them.</p>
+
+<p>The whole episode had a curious effect on Cheyne. It
+seemed, as he considered it, to lose its character of an
+ordinary breach of the law, punishable by the authorized
+forces of the Crown, and to take on instead that of a
+personal struggle between himself and these unknown
+men. The more he thought of it the more inclined he
+became to accept the challenge and to pit his own brain
+and powers against theirs. The mysterious nature of the
+affair appealed to his sporting instincts, and by the time
+he rejoined the sergeant in the study, he had made up his
+mind to keep his own counsel as to the Plymouth incident.
+He would call up the manager of the Edgecombe, tell
+him to carry on with his private detective, and have the
+latter down to Warren Lodge to go into the matter of the
+burglary.</p>
+
+<p>He found the sergeant attempting ineffectively to
+discover finger-prints on the smooth walls of the safe,
+sympathized with him in the difficulty of his task, and asked a
+number of deliberately futile questions. On the ground
+that nothing had been stolen he minimized the gravity of
+the affair, questioned his power to prosecute should the
+offenders be forthcoming, and instilled doubts into the
+other’s mind as to the need for special efforts to run them
+to earth. Finally, the man explaining that he had finished
+for the time being, he bade him good night, locked up the
+house and went to bed. There he lay for several hours
+tossing and turning as he puzzled over the affair, before
+sleep descended to blot out his worries and soothe his
+eager desire to be on the track of his enemies.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch03">
+
+<h2>Chapter III. <br> The Launch “Enid”</h2>
+
+<p>For several days after the attempted burglary events in the
+Cheyne household pursued the even tenor of their way.
+Cheyne went back to Plymouth on the following morning
+and interviewed the manager of the Edgecombe, and the
+day after a quiet, despondent-looking man with the air of
+a small shopkeeper arrived at Warren Lodge and was
+closeted with Cheyne for a couple of hours. Mr. Speedwell,
+of Horton and Lavender’s Private Detective Agency,
+listened with attention to the tales of the drugging and the
+burglary, thenceforward appearing at intervals and making
+mysterious inquiries on his own account.</p>
+
+<p>On one of these visits he brought with him the report of
+the analyst relative to the dishes of which Cheyne had
+partaken at lunch, but this document only increased the
+mystification the affair had caused. No trace of drugs was
+discernible in any of the food or drink in question, and as
+the soiled plates or glasses or cups of <em>all</em> the courses were
+available for examination, the question of how the drug
+had been administered—or alternatively whether it really
+had been administered—began to seem almost insoluble.
+The cocktail taken with Parkes before lunch was the only
+item of which a portion could not be analyzed, but the
+evidence of the barmaid proved conclusively that Parkes
+could not have tampered with it.</p>
+
+<p>But in spite of the analysis, the coffee still seemed the
+doubtful item. Cheyne’s sleepy feeling had come on very
+rapidly immediately after drinking the coffee, before which
+he had not felt the slightest abnormal symptoms. Mr.
+Speedwell laid stress on this point, though he was
+pessimistic about the whole affair.</p>
+
+<p>“They know what they’re about, does this gang,” he
+admitted ruefully as he and Cheyne were discussing
+matters. “That man in the hotel that called himself Parkes—if
+we found him tomorrow we should have precious little
+against him. However he managed it, we can’t prove he
+drugged you. In fact it’s the other way round. He can
+prove on our evidence that he didn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“It looks like it. You haven’t been able to find out
+anything about him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a thing, sir; that is, not what would be any use.
+I can prove that he sent your telegram all right; the girl
+in the Post Office recognized his description. But I couldn’t
+get on to his trail after that. I’ve tried the stations and
+the docks and the posting establishments and the hotels
+and I can’t get a trace. But of course I’ll maybe get it yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“What about the address given on his card?”</p>
+
+<p>“Tried that first thing. No good. No one of the name
+known in the district.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did the man arrive at the hotel?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just after you did, Mr. Cheyne. He probably picked you
+up somewhere else and was following you to see where
+you’d get lunch.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, that explains something. I was wondering
+how he knew I was going to the Edgecombe.”</p>
+
+<p>“It doesn’t explain so very much, sir. Question still is,
+how did he get all that other information about you; the
+name of your lawyer and so on?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne had to admit that the prospects of clearing up
+the affair were not rosy. “But what about the burglary?”
+he went on more hopefully. “That should be an easier nut
+to crack.”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell was still pessimistic.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know about that, sir,” he answered gloomily.
+“There’s not much to go on there either. The only chance
+is to trace the men’s arrival or departure. Now individually
+the private detective is every bit as good as the police;
+better, in fact, because he’s not so tied up with red tape.
+But he hasn’t their organization. In a case like this, when
+the police with their enormous organization have failed,
+the private detective hasn’t a big chance. However, of
+course I’ve not given up.”</p>
+
+<p>He paused, and then drawing a little closer to Cheyne
+and lowering his voice, he went on impressively: “You
+know, sir, I hope you’ll not consider me out of place in
+saying it, but I had hoped to get my best clue from
+yourself. There can be no doubt that these men are after some
+paper that you have, or that they think you have. If you
+could tell me what it was, it might make all the
+difference.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne made a gesture of impatience.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t I know that,” he cried. “Haven’t I been racking
+my brains over that question ever since the thing
+happened! I can’t think of anything. In fact, I can tell you
+there <em>was</em> nothing—nothing that I know of anyway,” he
+added helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell nodded and a sly look came into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, sir, if you can’t tell, you can’t, and that’s all there
+is to it.” He paused as if to refer to some other matter,
+then apparently thinking better of it, concluded: “You
+have my address, and if anything should occur to you I
+hope you’ll let me know without delay.”</p>
+
+<p>When Speedwell had taken his departure Cheyne sat on
+in the study, thinking over the problem the other had
+presented, but as he did so he had no idea that before
+that very day was out he should himself have received
+information which would clear up the point at issue, as
+well as a good many of the other puzzling features of the
+strange events in which he had become involved.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after lunch, then, on this day, the eighth after
+the burglary and drugging, Cheyne, on re-entering the
+house after a stroll round the garden, was handed a card
+and told that the owner was waiting to see him in his
+study. Mr. Arthur Lamson, of 17 Acacia Terrace, Bland
+Road, Devonport, proved to be a youngish man of middle
+height and build, with the ruggedly chiselled features
+usually termed hard-bitten, a thick black toothbrush
+mustache, and glasses. Cheyne was not particularly
+prepossessed by his appearance, but he spoke in an educated way
+and had the easy polish of a man of the world.</p>
+
+<p>“I have to apologize for this intrusion, Mr. Cheyne,” he
+began in a pleasant tone, “but the fact is I wondered
+whether I could interest you in a small invention of mine.
+I got your name from Messrs. Holt &amp; Stavenage, the
+Plymouth ship chandlers. They told me you dealt with
+them and how keen you were on yachting, and as my
+invention relates to the navigation of coasting craft, I hoped
+you might allow me to show it to you.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne, who had had some experience of inventors during
+six weeks’ special naval war service after his
+convalescence, made a noncommittal reply.</p>
+
+<p>“I may tell you at once, sir,” Mr. Lamson went on,
+“that I am looking for a keen amateur who would be
+willing to allow me to fit the device to his boat, and who
+would be sufficiently interested to test it under all kinds of
+varying conditions. You see, though the thing works all
+right on a motor launch I have borrowed, I have exhausted
+my leave from my business, and am therefore unable to
+give it a sufficiently lengthy and varying test to find out
+whether it will work continuously under ordinary everyday
+sea-going conditions. If it proves satisfactory I believe it
+would sell, and if so I should of course be willing to take
+into partnership to a certain extent anyone who had
+helped me to develop it.”</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself Cheyne was impressed. This man was
+different from those with whom he had hitherto come in
+contact. He was not asking for money, or at least he hadn’t
+so far.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you patented the device?” he asked, reckoning
+willingness to spend money on patent fees a test of good
+faith.</p>
+
+<p>“No, not yet,” the visitor answered. “I have taken out
+provisional protection, which will cover the thing for four
+months more. If it promises well after a couple of months’
+test it will be time enough to apply for the full patent.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne nodded. This was a reasonable and proper
+course.</p>
+
+<p>“What is the nature of the device?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The young man’s manner grew more alert. He leaned
+forward in his chair and spoke eagerly. Cheyne frowned
+involuntarily as he recognized the symptoms.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a position indicator. It would, I think, be useful at
+all times, but during fog it would be simply invaluable:
+that is, for coasting work, you know. It would be no good
+for protection against collision with another ship. But for
+clearing a headland or making a harbor in a fog it would
+be worth its weight in gold. The principle is, I believe,
+old, but I have been lucky enough to hit on improvements
+in detail which get over the defects of previous
+instruments. Speaking broadly, a fixed pointer, which may if
+desired carry a pen, rests on a moving chart. The chart is
+connected to a compass and to rollers operated by devices
+for recording the various components of motion: one is
+driven off the propeller, others are set, automatically
+mostly, for such things as wind, run of tide, wave motion
+and so on. The pointer always indicates the position of the
+ship, and as the ship moves, the chart moves to correspond.
+Steering then resolves itself into keeping the pointer on
+the correct line on the chart, and this can be done by
+night without guide lamps, or in a fog, as well as in
+daytime. The apparatus would also assist navigation through
+unbuoyed channels over covered mud flats, or in time of
+war through charted mine fields. I don’t want to be a
+nuisance to you, Mr. Cheyne, but I do wish you would at
+least let me show you the device. You could then decide
+whether you would allow me to fix it to your yacht for
+experimental purposes.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should like to see it,” Cheyne admitted. “If you can
+do all you claim, I certainly think you have a good thing.
+Where is it to be seen?”</p>
+
+<p>“On my launch, or rather, the launch I have borrowed.”
+The young man’s eagerness now almost approached
+excitement. His eyes sparkled and he fidgeted in his chair. “She
+is lying off Johnson’s boat slip at Dartmouth. I left the
+dinghy there.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you want me to go now?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you really will be so kind. I should propose a short
+run down the estuary and along the coast towards
+Exmouth, say for two or three hours. Could you spare so
+much time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes, I should enjoy it. I shall be back, say,
+between six and seven.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll have you back at Johnson’s slip at six o’clock. I have
+a taxi waiting now, and I’ll arrange with Johnson to call
+another for you as soon as he sees us coming up the
+estuary.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go,” said Cheyne. “Just a moment until I tell my
+people and get a coat.”</p>
+
+<p>The day was ideal for the run. Spring was in the air.
+The brilliant April sun poured down from an almost
+cloudless sky, against which the sea horizon showed a hard,
+sharp line of intensest blue. Within the estuary it was calm,
+but multitudinous white flecks in the distance showed a
+stiff breeze was blowing out at sea. Cheyne’s spirits rose.
+It was a glorious sport, this of battling with the foaming,
+tumbling waves in the open. How he loved their blue-black
+depth with its suggestion of utter and absolute cleanness,
+the creamy purity of their seething crests, their steady,
+irresistible onward movement, the restless dancing and
+swirling of the wavelets on their flanks! To him it was life to
+feel the buoyant spring of the craft beneath him, to hear
+the crash of the bows into the troughs and the smack of
+the spindrift striking aft. He was glad this Lamson had
+called. Even if the matter of the invention was a washout,
+as he more than half expected, he felt he was going to
+enjoy his afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>Three or four minutes brought them to Johnson’s boat
+slip on the outskirts of Dartmouth. There Lamson drew
+the proprietor aside.</p>
+
+<p>“See here,” he directed, “we’re going out for a run. I
+want you to keep a lookout for us coming back. We shall
+be in about six. As soon as you see us send for a taxi and
+have it here when we get ashore. Now, Mr. Cheyne, if
+you’re ready.”</p>
+
+<p>They climbed down into a small dinghy and Lamson,
+taking the oars, pulled out towards a fair-sized motor
+launch which lay at anchor some couple of hundred yards
+from the shore. She was not a graceful boat, but looked
+strongly built, showing a high bluff bow, a square stern
+and lines suggestive of speed.</p>
+
+<p>“A sea boat,” said Cheyne approvingly. “You surely
+don’t run her by yourself?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, a motoring friend has been giving me a hand. I am
+skipper and he engineer. We hug the coast, you know, and
+don’t go out if it is blowing.”</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke he pulled round the stern of the launch
+upon which Cheyne observed the words “Enid, Devonport.”
+At the same time a tall, well-built figure appeared
+and waved his hand. Lamson brought the dinghy up to
+the tiny steps and a moment later they were on deck.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Cheyne has come out to see the great invention,
+Tom. I almost hope that he is interested. My friend, Tom
+Lewisham, Mr. Cheyne.”</p>
+
+<p>The two men shook hands.</p>
+
+<p>“Lamson thinks he is going to make his fortune with
+this thing, Mr. Cheyne,” the big man remarked, smiling.
+“We must see that there is no mistake about our
+percentages.”</p>
+
+<p>“If you want a percentage you must work for it, my
+son,” Lamson declared. “Mr. Cheyne must be back by six,
+so get your old rattletrap going and we’ll run down to the
+sea. If you don’t mind, Mr. Cheyne, we’ll get under way
+before I show you the machine, as it takes both of us to
+get started.”</p>
+
+<p>“Right-o,” said Cheyne. “I’ll bear a hand if there’s
+anything I can do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s good of you. It would be a help if you
+would take the tiller while I’m making all snug. There’s
+a bit of a tumble on outside.”</p>
+
+<p>The boat was certainly a flier. The charmingly situated
+old town dropped rapidly astern while Lamson “made
+snug.” Then he came aft, shouted down through the
+engine room skylight for his friend, and when the latter
+appeared told him to take the tiller.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Mr. Cheyne,” he went on, “now comes the great
+moment! I have not fixed the apparatus up here in front
+of the tiller, partly to keep it secret and partly to save the
+trouble of making it weatherproof. It’s down in the cabin.
+But you understand it should be up here. Will you come
+down?”</p>
+
+<p>He led the way down a companion to a diminutive
+saloon. “It’s in the sleeping part, still forward,” he pointed,
+and the two men squeezed through a door in the bulkhead
+into a tiny cabin, lit by electric light and with a table in
+the center and two berths on either side. On the table was
+a frame on the top of which was stretched a chart, and a
+light rod ran out from one side to a pointer fixed over the
+middle of the chart.</p>
+
+<p>“You can see that it’s very roughly made,” Lamson went
+on, “but if you look closely I think you’ll find that it works
+all right.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne bent forward and examined the machine, and
+as he did so mystification grew in his mind. The chart was
+not of the estuary of the Dart, nor, stranger still, was it
+connected to rollers. It was simply tacked on what he now
+saw was merely the lid of a box. How it was moved he
+couldn’t see.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t follow this,” he said. “How do you get your
+chart to move if it’s nailed down?”</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer, but as he swung round with a
+sudden misgiving there was a sharp click. Lamson had
+disappeared and the door was shut!</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne seized the handle and turned it violently, only
+to find that the bolt of the lock had been shot, but before
+he could attempt further researches the light went off,
+leaving him in almost pitch darkness. At the same moment
+a significant lurch showed that they were passing from the
+shelter of the estuary into the open sea.</p>
+
+<p>He twisted and tugged at the handle. “Here you,
+Lamson!” he shouted angrily. “What do you mean by this?
+Open the door at once. Confound you! Will you open the
+door!” He began to kick savagely at the woodwork.</p>
+
+<p>A small panel in the partition between the cabins shot
+aside and a beam of light flowed into Cheyne’s. Lamson’s
+face appeared at the opening. He spoke in an old-fashioned,
+stilted way, aping extreme politeness, but his
+mocking smile gave the lie to his protestations.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sorry, Mr. Cheyne, for this incivility,” he declared,
+“and hope that when you have heard my explanation you
+will pardon me. I must admit I have played a trick on you
+for which I offer the fullest apologies. The story of my
+invention was a fabrication. So far as I am aware no
+apparatus such as I have described exists: certainly I have not
+made one. The truth is that you can do me a service, and
+I took the liberty of inveigling you here in the hope of
+securing your good offices in the matter.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve taken a bad way of getting my help,” Cheyne
+shouted wrathfully. “Open the door at once, damn you, or
+I’ll smash it to splinters!”</p>
+
+<p>The other made a deprecatory gesture.</p>
+
+<p>“Really I beg of you, Mr. Cheyne,” he said in mock
+horror at the other’s violence. “Not so fast, if you please,
+sir. I have an answer to both your observations. With
+regard to the door you will—”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne interrupted him with a savage oath and a fierce
+onslaught of kicks on the lower panels of the door. But he
+could make no impression on them, and when in a few
+moments he paused breathless, Lamson went on quietly.</p>
+
+<p>“With regard to the door, as I was about to observe, it
+would be a waste of energy to attempt to smash it to
+splinters, because I have taken the precaution to have it
+covered with steel plates. They are bolted through and the
+nuts are on the outside. I mention this to save you—”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was by this time almost beside himself with rage.
+He expressed his convictions and desires as to Lamson and
+his future in terms which from the point of view of force
+left little to be desired, and persistently reiterated his
+demand that the door be opened as a prelude to further
+negotiation. In reply Lamson shook his head, and
+remarking that as the present seemed an inopportune moment
+for discussing the situation, he could postpone the
+conversation, he closed the panel and left the inner cabin once
+more in darkness.</p>
+
+<p>For an hour Cheyne stormed and fumed, and with
+pieces which he managed to knock off the table tried to
+break through the door, the bulkheads, and the deadlighted
+porthole, all with such a complete absence of success
+that when at last Lamson appeared once more at the
+panel he was constrained to listen, though with suppressed
+fury, to what he had to say.</p>
+
+<p>“You see, it’s this way, Mr. Cheyne,” the erstwhile
+inventor began. “You are completely in our power, and the
+sooner you realize it and let us come to business, the sooner
+you’ll be at liberty again. We don’t wish you any harm;
+please accept my assurances on that. All we want is a
+slight service at your hands, and when you perform it you
+will be free to return home; in fact we shall take you back
+as I said, with profuse apologies for your inconvenience
+and loss of time. But it is only fair to point out that we
+are determined to get what we want, and if you are not
+prepared to come to terms now we can wait until you are.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne, still at a white heat, cursed the other savagely.
+Lamson waited until he had finished, then went on in a
+smooth, almost coaxing tone:</p>
+
+<p>“Now do be reasonable, Mr. Cheyne. You must see that
+your present attitude is only wasting time for us both.
+Not to put too fine a point on it, the situation is this:
+You are there, and you can’t get out, and you can’t attract
+attention to your predicament—that is why the deadlights
+are shipped. It grieves me to say it,” Lamson smiled
+sardonically, “but I must tell you that you will stay there
+until you do what we want. In order to prevent Mrs.
+Cheyne becoming uneasy we shall wire her in your name
+that you have left for an extended trip and won’t be back
+for some days. ‘To Cheyne, Warren Lodge, Dartmouth.
+Gone for yachting cruise down French coast. Address
+Poste Restante, St. Nazaire. All well. Maxwell.’ You see,
+we know exactly how to word it. All suspicion would be
+lulled for some days and then,” he paused and something
+sinister and revolting came into his face, “then it wouldn’t
+matter, for it would be too late. For you see there is neither
+food nor drink in the cabin and we don’t propose to pass
+any in. You won’t get any, Mr. Cheyne, no matter how
+many days you remain aboard: that is,” his manner
+changed, “unless you are reasonable, which of course you
+will be. In that case no harm is done. Now won’t you
+hear our little proposition?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll see you in hell first,” Cheyne shouted, his rage once
+again overwhelming him. “You’ll pay for this, I can tell
+you. It’ll be the dearest trip you ever had in your life,”
+and he proceeded with threats and curses to demand the
+immediate opening of the door. Lamson, a whimsical smile
+curling his lips, shrugged his shoulders at the outburst,
+and replied by withdrawing his head from the opening
+and sliding the panel to.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne, left once more in almost complete darkness, sat
+silent, his mind full of wrath against his captors. But as
+time passed and they made no sign, his fury somewhat
+evaporated and he began to wonder what it was they
+wanted with him. His rage had made him thirsty, and the
+mere fact that Lamson had stated that nothing would be
+given him to drink, made his thirst more insistent. It was
+impossible, he said to himself, that the scoundrels could
+carry out so diabolical a threat, but in spite of his
+assurance, little misgivings began to creep into his mind. At all
+events the vision of his usual cup of afternoon tea grew
+increasingly alluring. When therefore after what seemed
+to him several hours, but what was in reality about forty
+minutes only, the panel suddenly opened, he admitted
+sullenly that he was prepared to listen to what Lamson had
+to say.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s good,” the young man answered heartily. “If
+you could just see your way to humor us in this little
+matter there is no reason why we should not part friends.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no question of friends about it,” Cheyne
+declared sharply. “Cut your chatter and get on to business.
+What do you want?”</p>
+
+<p>A smile suffused Mr. Lamson’s roughhewn
+countenance.</p>
+
+<p>“Now that’s talking,” he cried. “That’s what I’ve been
+hoping to hear. I’ll tell you the whole thing and you’ll
+see it’s only a mere trifle that we’re asking. I can put it in
+five words: We want Arnold Price’s letter.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne stared.</p>
+
+<p>“Arnold Price’s letter?” he repeated in amazement.
+“What on earth do you know about Arnold Price’s letter?”</p>
+
+<p>“We know all about it, Mr. Cheyne—a jolly sight more
+than you do. We know about his giving it to you and the
+conditions under which he asked you to keep it. But you
+don’t know why he did so or what is in it. We do, and
+we can justify our request for it.”</p>
+
+<p>The demand was so unexpected that Cheyne sat for a
+moment in silence, thinking how the letter in question had
+come into his possession. Arnold Price was a junior officer
+in one of the ships belonging to the Fenchurch Street firm
+in whose office Cheyne had spent five years as clerk.
+Business had brought the two young men in contact during the
+visits of Price’s ship, and they had become rather friendly.
+On Cheyne’s leaving for Devonshire they had drifted apart,
+indeed they had only met on one occasion since. That was
+in 1917, shortly before Cheyne received the wound which
+invalided him out of the service. Then he found that his
+former companion had volunteered for the navy on the
+outbreak of hostilities. He had done well, and after a
+varied service he had been appointed third officer of
+the <i>Maurania</i>, an eight-thousand-ton liner carrying passengers,
+as well as stores from overseas to the troops in France.
+The two had spent an evening together in Dunkirk
+renewing their friendship and talking over old times. Then, two
+months later, had come the letter. In it Price asked his
+friend to do him a favor. Some private papers, of interest
+only to himself, had come into his possession and he wished
+these to be safely preserved until after the war. Knowing
+that Cheyne was permanently invalided out, he was
+venturing to send these papers, sealed in the enclosed envelope,
+with the request that Cheyne would keep them for him
+until he reclaimed them or until news of his death was
+received. In the latter case Cheyne was to open the
+envelope and act as he thought fit on the information therein
+contained.</p>
+
+<p>The sealed envelope was of a size which would hold a
+foolscap sheet folded in four, and was fairly bulky. It was
+inscribed: “To Maxwell Cheyne, of Warren Lodge,
+Dartmouth, Devonshire, from Arnold Price, third officer,
+S.S. <i>Maurania</i>,” and on the top was written: “Please retain
+this envelope unopened until I claim it or until you have
+received authentic news of my death. Arnold Price.”
+Cheyne had acknowledged it, promising to carry out the
+instructions, and had then sent the envelope to his bank,
+where it had since remained.</p>
+
+<p>The insinuating voice of Lamson broke through his
+thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>“I think, Mr. Cheyne, when you hear the reasons for our
+request, you will give it all due consideration. For one—”</p>
+
+<p>What? Break faith with Price? Go back on his friend?
+Rage again choked Cheyne’s utterance. Stutteringly he
+cursed the other, once again demanding under blood-curdling
+threats of future vengeance his immediate liberty.
+Through his passion he heard the voice of the other saying
+he was sorry but he really could not help it, the panel slid
+shut, and darkness and silence, save for the sounds of the
+sea, reigned in the <i>Enid’s</i> cabin.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch04">
+
+<h2>Chapter IV. <br> Concerning a Peerage</h2>
+
+<p>When Maxwell Cheyne’s paroxysm of fury diminished
+and he began once more to think collectedly about the
+unpleasant situation in which he found himself, a startling
+idea occurred to him. Here at last, surely, was the
+explanation of his previous adventures! The drugging in the hotel
+in Plymouth, the burglary at Warren Lodge, and now his
+kidnaping on the <i>Enid</i> were all part and parcel of the
+same scheme. It was for Price’s letter that his pocketbook
+was investigated while he lay asleep in the private room
+at the Edgecombe; it was for Price’s letter that his safe
+was broken open and his house searched by other members
+of the conspiracy, and it was for Price’s letter that he now
+lay, a prisoner aboard this infernal launch.</p>
+
+<p>A valuable document, this of Price’s must surely be, if
+it was worth such pains to acquire! Cheyne wondered how
+it had never occurred to him that it might represent the
+motive of the earlier crimes, but he soon realized that he
+had never thought of it as being of interest to anyone
+other than Price. Indeed, Price himself referred to his
+enclosure as “some private papers, of interest to myself
+only.” In that last phrase Price had evidently been wrong,
+and Cheyne wondered whether he had been genuinely
+mistaken, or whether he had from distrust of himself
+deliberately misstated the case in order to minimize the value of
+the document. Price had certainly not shown himself
+anxious to regain it at the earliest possible moment. On
+the conclusion of peace he had not accepted demobilization.
+He had applied for and obtained a transfer to the
+Middle East, where he had commanded one of the
+transports plying between Basrah and Bombay in connection
+with the Mesopotamian campaign. So far as Cheyne knew,
+he was still there. He hadn’t heard of him for many
+months, not, indeed, since he went out.</p>
+
+<p>While Cheyne had been turning over these matters in
+his mind the launch had evidently been approaching land,
+as its rather wild rolling and pitching had gradually ceased
+and it was now floating on an even keel. Cheyne had been
+conscious of the fact despite his preoccupation, but now
+his musings were interrupted by the stopping of the motor
+and a few seconds later by the plunge of the anchor and
+the rattle of the running chain. In the comparative silence
+he shouted himself hoarse, but no one paid him the least
+attention. He heard, however, the dinghy being drawn up
+to the side and presently the sound of oars retreating, but
+whether one or both of his captors had left he could not
+tell. In an hour or two the boat returned, but though he
+again shouted and beat the door of his cabin, no notice
+was taken of his calls.</p>
+
+<p>Then began for Cheyne a period which he could never
+afterwards look back on without a shudder. Never could
+he have believed that a night could be so long, that time
+could drag so slowly. He made himself as comfortable as
+he could in one of the bunks, but as the clothes and the
+mattress had been removed, his efforts were not crowned
+with much success. In spite of his weariness and of the
+growing exhaustion due to hunger, he could not sleep.
+He wanted something to drink. He was surprised to find
+that thirst was not localized in a parched throat or dry
+mouth. His whole being cried out for water. He could not
+have described the sensation, but it was very intense, and
+with every hour that passed it grew stronger. He turned
+and tossed in the narrow bunk, his restlessness and
+discomfort continually increasing. At last he dozed, but only
+to fall into horrible dreams from which he awoke
+unrefreshed and thirstier than ever.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne had plenty of spirit and dash, but he lacked in
+staying power, and when the inevitable period of reaction
+to his excitement and rage came he became plunged in a
+deep depression. These fellows had him in their power. If
+this went on and they really carried out their threat he
+would have to give way sooner or later. He hated to think
+he might betray a trust; he hated still more to be coerced
+into doing anything against his own will, but when, as it
+seemed to him, weeks later, the panel shot back and
+Lamson’s face appeared, his first decision was shaken and
+he waited sullenly to hear what the other had to say.</p>
+
+<p>The man was polite and deprecating rather than blustering,
+and seemed anxious to make it as easy as possible
+for Cheyne to capitulate.</p>
+
+<p>“I hope, Mr. Cheyne,” he began, “you will allow me to
+explain this matter more fully, as I cannot but think you
+have at least to some extent misunderstood our proposal.
+I did not tell you the whole of the facts, but I should like
+to do so now if you will listen.”</p>
+
+<p>He paused expectantly. Cheyne glowered at him, but
+did not reply, and Lamson resumed:</p>
+
+<p>“The matter is somewhat complicated, but I will do my
+best to explain it as briefly as I can. In a word, then, it
+relates to a claim for a peerage. I must admit to you that
+Lamson is not my name—it is Price, and the Arnold Price
+whom you knew during the war is my second cousin.
+Arnold’s uncle and my father’s cousin, St. John Price, is,
+or rather was, in the diplomatic service, and it is through
+his discoveries that the present situation has arisen.</p>
+
+<p>“It happened that this St. John Price had occasion to
+visit South Africa on diplomatic business during the war,
+and as luck would have it he took his return passage on
+the <i>Maurania</i>, the ship on which his nephew Arnold was
+third officer. But he never reached England. He met his
+death on the journey under circumstances which involved
+a coincidence too remarkable to have happened otherwise
+than in real life.”</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself Cheyne was interested. Price glanced
+at him and went on:</p>
+
+<p>“One night at the end of the voyage when they were
+running without lights up the Channel, a large steamer
+going in the same direction as themselves suddenly loomed
+up out of the darkness and struck them heavily on the
+starboard quarter. My cousin was on deck, though not in
+charge. He saw the outlines of the vessel as she was closing
+in, and he also saw that a passenger was standing at the
+rail just where the contact was about to take place. At the
+risk of his own life he sprang forward and dragged the man
+back. Unfortunately he was not in time to save him, for a
+falling spar broke his back and only just missed killing
+Arnold. Then, as you may have guessed from what I said,
+it turned out that the passenger was none other than St.
+John Price. My cousin had tried to save his own uncle.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more Price paused, but Cheyne still remaining
+silent, he continued:</p>
+
+<p>“St. John lingered for some hours, during most of which
+time he was conscious, and it was then that he told Arnold
+about his belief, that he, Arnold, was heir to the barony of
+Hull. I don’t know, Mr. Cheyne, if you are aware that the
+present Lord Hull is a man well on to eighty and is in
+failing health. He has no known heir, and unless some
+claimant comes forward speedily, the title will in the
+course of nature become extinct. As you probably know
+also, Lord Hull is a man of enormous wealth. St. John Price
+believed that he, Arnold, and myself were all descended
+from the eldest son of Francis, the fifth Baron Hull. This
+man had lived an evil, dissolute life, and England having
+become too hot to hold him, he had sailed for South Africa
+in the early part of the last century. On his father’s death
+search was made for him, but without result, and the
+second son, Alwyn, inherited. St. John had after many
+years’ labor traced what he believed was a lineal descent
+from the scapegrace, and he had utilized his visit to South
+Africa to make further inquiries. There he had unearthed
+the record of a marriage, which, he believed, completed
+the proofs he sought. As he knew he was dying, he handed
+over the attested copy of the marriage certificate to Arnold,
+at the same time making a new will leaving all the other
+documents in the case to Arnold also.</p>
+
+<p>“When Arnold received his next leave he went fully into
+the matter with his solicitor, only to find that one
+document, the register of a birth, was missing. Without this he
+could scarcely hope to win his case. The evidence of the
+other papers tended to show that the birth had taken place
+in India, probably at Bombay, and Arnold therefore
+applied for a transfer into a service which brought him to
+that country, in the hope that he would have an opportunity
+to pursue his researches at first hand. It was there
+that I met him—I am junior partner in Swanson, Reid &amp;
+Price’s of that city—and he told me all that I have told
+you.</p>
+
+<p>“Before going to the East he sealed up the papers referring
+to the matter and sent them to you. If you will pardon
+my saying so, I think that there he made a mistake. But he
+explained that he knew too much about lawyers to leave
+anything in their hands, that they would fight the case for
+their own fees whether there was any chance of winning it
+or not, and that he wanted the papers to be in the hands of
+an honest man in case of his death.</p>
+
+<p>“I pointed out that I was interested in the matter also,
+but he said No, that he was the heir and that during his
+life the affair concerned him alone. Needless to say, we
+parted on bad terms.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Mr. Cheyne, you can see why I want those papers.
+Though Arnold is my cousin I doubt his honesty. I want
+to see exactly how we both stand. I want nothing but what
+is fair—as a matter of fact I can get nothing but what is
+fair—the law wouldn’t allow it. But I don’t want to be
+done. If I had the papers I would show them to a first-rate
+lawyer. If Arnold is entitled to succeed he will do so, if I
+am the heir I shall, if neither of us no harm is done. We
+can only get what the law allows us. But in any case I
+give my word of honor that, if I succeed, Arnold shall
+never want for anything in reason.”</p>
+
+<p>Price was speaking earnestly and his manner carried
+conviction to Cheyne. Without waiting for a reply he
+proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>“You, Mr. Cheyne, if you will excuse my saying it, are
+an outsider in the matter. Whether Arnold or I or neither
+of us succeeds is nothing to you. You want to do only what
+is fair to Arnold, and you have my most solemn promise
+that that is all I propose. If you enable me to test our
+respective positions by handing over the papers to me you
+will not be letting Arnold down.”</p>
+
+<p>When Price ceased speaking there was silence between
+the two men as Cheyne thought over what he had heard.
+Price’s manner was convincing, and as far as Cheyne could
+form an opinion, the story might be true. It certainly
+explained the facts adequately, and Cheyne believed that
+the statements about Lord Hull were correct. All the same
+he did not believe this man was out for a square deal. If
+he could only get what the law allowed, would not the
+same apply whether he or Arnold conducted the affair?
+Cheyne, moreover, was still sore from his treatment, and
+he determined he would not discuss the matter until he
+had received satisfactory replies to one or two personal
+questions.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you drug me in the Edgecombe Hotel in Plymouth
+a week ago and then go through my pockets, and did you
+the same evening burgle my house, break open my safe,
+and mishandle my servants?”</p>
+
+<p>It was not exactly a tactful question, but Price answered
+it cheerfully and without hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>“Not in person, but I admit my agents did these things.
+For these also I am anxious to apologize.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your apologies won’t prevent your having a lengthened
+acquaintance with the inside of a prison,” Cheyne snarled,
+his rage flickering up at the recollection of his injuries.
+“How do your confederates come to be interested?”</p>
+
+<p>“Bought,” the other admitted sweetly. “I had no other
+way of getting help. I have paid them twenty pounds on
+account and they will get a thousand guineas each if my
+claim is upheld.”</p>
+
+<p>“A self-confessed thief and crook as well as a liar! And
+you expect me to believe in your good intentions towards
+Arnold Price!”</p>
+
+<p>An unpleasant look passed across the other’s face, but
+he spoke calmly.</p>
+
+<p>“That may be all very well and very true if you like,
+but it doesn’t advance the situation. The question now is:
+Are you prepared to hand over the letter? Nothing else
+seems to me to matter.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you not come to me like an ordinary honest
+man and tell me your story? What induced you to launch
+out into all this complicated network of crime?”</p>
+
+<p>Price smiled whimsically.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you might surely guess that,” he answered.
+“Suppose you had refused to give me the letter, how was I to
+know that you would not have put it beyond my reach?
+I couldn’t take the risk.”</p>
+
+<p>“Suppose I refuse to give it to you now?”</p>
+
+<p>“You won’t, Mr. Cheyne. No one in your position could.
+Circumstances are too strong for you, and you can hand it
+over and retain your honor absolutely untarnished. I do
+not wish to urge you to a decision. If you would prefer to
+take today to think it over, by all means do so. I sent
+the wire to Mrs. Cheyne shortly before six last night, so
+she will not be uneasy about you.”</p>
+
+<p>Though the words were politely spoken, the threat
+behind them was unmistakable and fell with sinister intent
+on the listener’s ears. Rapidly Cheyne considered the
+situation. This ruffian was right. No one in such a situation
+could resist indefinitely. It was true he could refuse his
+consent at the moment, but the question would come up
+again and again until at last he would have to give way.
+He knew it, and he felt that unless there was a strong
+chance of victory, he could not stand the hours of suffering
+which a further refusal would entail. No, bitter as the
+conclusion was, he felt he must for the moment admit
+defeat, trusting later to getting his own back. He turned
+back to Price.</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t got the letter here. I can only get it for you
+if you put me ashore.”</p>
+
+<p>That this was a victory for Price was evident, but the
+young man showed no elation. He carefully avoided
+anything in the nature of a taunt, and spoke in a quiet,
+businesslike way.</p>
+
+<p>“We might be able to arrange that. Where is the letter?”</p>
+
+<p>“At my bank in Dartmouth.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then the matter is quite simple. All you have to do is
+to write to the manager to send the letter to an address
+I shall give you. Directly you do so you shall have the best
+food and drink on the launch, and directly the letter is in
+our hands you will be put ashore close to your home.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne still hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll do it provided you can prove to me your statements.
+How am I to know that you will keep your word? How
+am I to know that you won’t get the letter and then
+murder me?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid you can’t know that. I would gladly prove
+it to you, but you must see that it’s just not possible. I
+give you my solemn word of honor and you’ll have to
+accept it because there is nothing else you can do.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne demurred further, but as Price showed signs of
+retreating and leaving him to think it over until the
+evening, he hastily agreed to write the letter. Immediately the
+electric light came on in his cabin and Price passed in a
+couple of sheets of notepaper and envelopes. Cheyne gazed
+at them in surprise. They were of a familiar silurian gray
+and the sheets bore in tiny blue embossed letters the words
+“Warren Lodge, Dartmouth, S. Devon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, it’s my own paper,” he exclaimed, and Price with
+a smile admitted that in view of some development like
+the present, his agents had taken the precaution to annex
+a few sheets when paying their call to Cheyne’s home.</p>
+
+<p>“If you will ask your manager to send the letter to
+Herbert Taverner, Esq., Royal Hotel, Weymouth, it will
+meet the case. Taverner is my agent, and as soon as it is
+in his hands I will set you ashore at Johnson’s wharf.”</p>
+
+<p>Seeing there was no help for it, Cheyne wrote the letter.
+Price read it carefully, then sealed it in its envelope.
+Immediately after he handed through the panel a tumbler of
+whisky and water, then hurried off, saying he was going
+to dispatch the letter and bring Cheyne his breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, the unspeakable delight of that drink! Cheyne
+thought he had never before experienced any sensation
+approaching it in satisfaction. He swallowed it in great
+gulps, and when in a few moments Price returned, he
+demanded more, and again more.</p>
+
+<p>His thirst assuaged, hunger asserted itself, and for the
+next half-hour Cheyne had the time of his life as Price
+handed in through the panel a plate of smoking ham and
+eggs, fragrant coffee, toast, butter, marmalade and the like.
+At last with a sigh of relief Cheyne lit his pipe, while Price
+passed in blankets and rugs to make up a bed in one of
+the bunks. Some books and magazines followed and a handbell,
+which Price told him to ring if he wanted anything.</p>
+
+<p>Comfortable in body and fairly easy in mind, Cheyne
+made up his bed and promptly fell asleep. It was
+afternoon when he awoke, and on ringing the bell, Price
+appeared with a well-cooked lunch. The evening passed
+comfortably if tediously and that night Cheyne slept well.</p>
+
+<p>Next day and next night dragged slowly away. Cheyne
+was well looked after and supplied with everything he
+required, but the confinement grew more and more
+irksome. However, he could not help himself and he had to
+admit he might have fared worse, as he lay smoking in his
+bunk and brooding over schemes to get even with the men
+who had tricked him.</p>
+
+<p>About half-past ten on the second morning he suddenly
+heard oars approaching, followed by the sounds of a boat
+coming alongside and some one climbing on board. A few
+moments later Price appeared at the panel.</p>
+
+<p>“You will be pleased to hear, Mr. Cheyne, that we have
+received the letter safely. We are getting under way at
+once and you will be home in less than three hours.”</p>
+
+<p>Presently the motor started, and soon the slow, easy roll
+showed they were out in the open breasting the Channel
+ground swell. After a couple of hours, Price appeared with
+his customary tray.</p>
+
+<p>“We are just coming into the estuary of the Dart,” he
+said. “I thought perhaps you would have a bit of lunch
+before going ashore.”</p>
+
+<p>The meal, like its fellows, was surprisingly well cooked
+and served, and Cheyne did full justice to it. By the time
+he had finished the motion of the boat had subsided and
+it was evident they were in sheltered waters. Some minutes
+later the motor stopped, the anchor was dropped, and
+someone got into a boat and rowed off. A quarter of an
+hour passed and then the boat returned, and to Cheyne’s
+misgivings and growing concern, the motor started again.
+But after a very few minutes it once more stopped and
+Price appeared at the panel.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Mr. Cheyne, the time has come for us to say
+good-bye. For obvious reasons I am afraid we shall have
+to ask you to row yourself ashore, but the tide is flowing
+and you will have no difficulty in that. But before parting
+I wish to warn you very earnestly for your own sake and
+your own safety not to attempt to follow us or to set the
+police on our track. Believe me, I am not speaking idly
+when I assure you that we cannot brook interference with
+our plans. We wish to avoid ‘removals’,” he lingered over
+the word and a sinister gleam came into his eyes, “but
+please understand we shall not hesitate if there is no other
+way. And if you try to give trouble there will be in your
+case no other way. Take my advice and be wise enough
+to forget this little episode.” He took a small automatic
+pistol from his pocket and balanced it before the panel.
+“I warn you most earnestly that if you attempt to make
+trouble it will mean your death. And with regard to trying
+to follow us, please remember that this launch has the
+heels of any craft in the district and that we have a safe
+hiding-place not far away.”</p>
+
+<p>As Price finished speaking he unlocked and threw open
+the cabin door, motioning his prisoner to follow him on
+deck. There Cheyne saw that they were far down the
+estuary, in fact, nearly opposite Warren Lodge and a mile or
+more from the town.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought you were going to take me to Johnson’s
+jetty,” he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>“An obvious precaution,” the other returned smoothly.
+“I trust you won’t mind.”</p>
+
+<p>The freshness and the freedom of the deck were inexpressibly
+delightful to Cheyne after his long confinement in
+the stuffy cabin. He stood drawing deep draughts of the
+keen invigorating air into his lungs, as he gazed at the
+familiar shores of the estuary, lighted up in the brilliant
+April sunlight. Nature seemed in an optimistic mood and
+Cheyne, in spite of his experiences and Price’s gruesome
+remarks, felt optimistic also. He still felt he would devote
+all his energies to getting even with the scoundrels who
+had robbed him, but he no longer regarded them with a
+sullen hatred. Rather the view of the affair as a game in
+which he was pitting his wits against theirs gained force
+in his mind, and he looked forward with zest to turning
+the tables upon them in the not too distant future.</p>
+
+<p>In the launch’s dinghy, which was made fast astern, was
+Lewisham, engaged in untying the painter of a second
+dinghy which bore on its stern board the words “S.
+Johnson, Dartmouth.” The explanation of the starting and
+stopping of the motor now became clear. The conspirators
+had evidently gone in to pick up this boat and had towed
+it down the estuary so as to insure their escape before
+Cheyne could reach the shore to lodge any information
+against them.</p>
+
+<p>The painter untied, Lewisham passed it aboard the
+launch and Price, drawing the boat up to the gunwale,
+motioned Cheyne into it.</p>
+
+<p>“As I said, I’m sorry we shall have to ask you to row
+yourself ashore, but the run of the tide will help you.
+Good-bye, Mr. Cheyne. I deeply regret all the inconvenience
+you have suffered, and most earnestly I urge you to
+regard the warning which I have given you.”</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke he threw the end of the painter into the
+dinghy and, the launch’s motor starting, she drew quickly
+ahead, leaving Cheyne seated in the small boat.</p>
+
+<p>Full of an idea which had just flashed into his mind,
+the latter seized the oars and began pulling with all his
+might not for Johnson’s jetty, but for the shore immediately
+opposite. But try as he would, he did not reach it
+before the launch <i>Enid</i> had become a mere dot on the
+seaward horizon.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch05">
+
+<h2>Chapter V. <br> An Amateur Sleuth</h2>
+
+<p>Cheyne’s great idea was that instead of proceeding
+directly to the police station and lodging an information
+against his captors, as he had at first intended, he should
+himself attempt to follow them to their lair. To enter upon
+a battle of wits with such men would be a sport more
+thrilling than big game hunting, more exciting than war,
+and if by his own unaided efforts he could bring about
+their undoing he would not only restore his self-respect,
+which had suffered a nasty jar, but might even recover
+for Arnold Price the documents which he required for his
+claim to the barony of Hull.</p>
+
+<p>Whether he was wise in this decision was another
+matter, but with Maxwell Cheyne impulse ruled rather than
+colder reason, the desire of the moment rather than
+adherence to calculated plan. Therefore directly a way in which
+he could begin the struggle occurred to him, he was all
+eagerness to set about carrying it out.</p>
+
+<p>The essence of his plan was haste, and he therefore bent
+lustily to his oars, sending the tiny craft bounding over
+the wavelets of the estuary and leaving a wake of bubbles
+from its foaming stem. In a few minutes he had reached
+the shore immediately beneath Warren Lodge, tied the
+painter round a convenient boulder, and racing over the
+rocky beach, had set off running towards the house.</p>
+
+<p>It was a short though stiff climb, but he did not spare
+himself, and he reached the garden wall within three
+minutes of leaving the boat. As he turned in through the gate
+he looked back over the panorama of sea, the whole
+expanse of which was visible from this point, measuring
+with his eye the distance to Inner Froward Point, the
+headland at the opposite side of the bay, around which
+the <i>Enid</i> had just disappeared. She was going east, up channel,
+but he did not think she was traveling fast enough to
+defeat his plans.</p>
+
+<p>Another minute brought him to the house, and there,
+in less time than it takes to tell, he had seen his sister,
+explained that he might not be back that night, obtained
+some money, donned his leggings and waterproof, and
+starting up his motor bike, had set off to ride into
+Dartmouth.</p>
+
+<p>Pausing for a moment at the boat slip to tell Johnson of
+the whereabouts of his dinghy, he reached the ferry and
+got across the river to Kingswear with the minimum of
+delay possible. Then once more mounting his machine, he
+rode rapidly off towards the east.</p>
+
+<p>The land lying eastward of Dartmouth forms a peninsula
+shaped roughly like an inverted cone, truncated, and
+connected to the mainland by a broad isthmus at the
+northwest corner. The west side is bounded by the river
+Dart, with Dartmouth and Kingswear to the southwest,
+while on the other three sides is the sea. Brixham is a
+small town at the northeast corner, while further north
+beyond the isthmus are the larger towns of Paignton and,
+across Tor Bay, Torquay.</p>
+
+<p>Most of the ground on the peninsula is high, and the
+road from Kingswear in the southwest corner to Brixham
+in the northeast crosses a range of hills from which a good
+view of Tor Bay and the sea to the north and east is
+obtainable. Should the <i>Enid</i> have been bound for Torquay,
+Teignmouth, Exmouth, or any of the seaports close by,
+she would pass within view of this road, whereas if she
+was going right up Channel past Portland Bill she would
+go nearly due east from the Froward Points. Cheyne’s hope
+was that he should reach this viewpoint before she would
+have had time to get out of sight had she been on the
+former course, so that her presence or absence would
+indicate the route she was pursuing.</p>
+
+<p>But when, having reached the place, he found that no
+trace of the <i>Enid</i> was to be seen, he realized that he had
+made a mistake. From Inner Froward Point to Brixham
+was only about seven miles, to Paignton about ten, and
+to Torquay eleven or twelve. The longest of these distances
+the launch should do in about twenty-five minutes, and as
+in spite of all his haste no less than forty-seven minutes
+had elapsed since he stepped into the dinghy, the test was
+evidently useless.</p>
+
+<p>But having come so far, he was not going to turn back
+without making some further effort. The afternoon was
+still young, the day was fine, he had had his lunch and
+cycling was pleasant. He would ride along the coast and
+make some inquiries.</p>
+
+<p>He dropped down the hill into Brixham, and turning
+to the left, pulled up at the little harbor. A glance showed
+him that the <i>Enid</i> was not there. He therefore turned his
+machine, and starting once more, ran the five miles odd
+to Paignton at something well above the legal limit.</p>
+
+<p>Inquiries at the pier produced no result, but as he turned
+away he had a stroke of unexpected luck. Meeting a
+coastguard, he stopped and questioned him, and was overjoyed
+when the man told him that though no launch had come
+into Paignton that morning, he had about three-quarters
+of an hour earlier seen one crossing the bay from the south
+and evidently making for Torquay.</p>
+
+<p>Quivering with eagerness, Cheyne once more started up
+his bicycle. He took the three miles to Torquay at a
+reckless speed and there received his reward. Lying at moorings
+in the inner harbor was the <i>Enid</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving the bicycle in charge of a boy, Cheyne stepped
+up to a group of longshoremen and made his inquiries.
+Yes, the launch there had just come in, half an hour or
+more back. Two men had come off her and had handed
+her over to Hugh Leigh, the boatman. Leigh was a tall
+stout man with a black beard: in fact, there he was
+himself behind that yellow and white boat.</p>
+
+<p>Impetuous though he was, Cheyne’s knowledge of
+human nature told him that in dealing with his fellows
+the more haste frequently meant the less speed. He
+therefore curbed his impatience and took a leisurely tone with
+the boatman.</p>
+
+<p>“Good-day to you,” he began. “I see you have the <i>Enid</i>
+there. Is she long in?”</p>
+
+<p>“’Bout ’arf an hour, sir,” the man returned.</p>
+
+<p>“I was to have met her,” Cheyne went on, “but I’m
+afraid I have missed my friends. You don’t happen to
+know which direction they went in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Took a keb, sir: taxi. Went towards the station.”</p>
+
+<p>The station! That was an idea at least worth investigating.
+He slipped the man a couple of shillings lest his
+good offices should be required in the future, and hurrying
+back to his bicycle was soon at the place in question.
+Here, though he could find no trace of his quarry, he
+learned that a train had left for Newton Abbot at 3:33—five
+minutes earlier. It looked very much as if his friends
+had traveled by it.</p>
+
+<p>For those who are not clear as to the geography of
+South Devon, it may be explained that Newton Abbot lies
+on the main line of the Great Western Railway between
+Paddington and Cornwall, with Exeter twenty miles to the
+northeast and Plymouth some thirty odd to the southwest.
+At Newton Abbot the line throws off a spur, which, passing
+through Torquay and Paignton, has its terminus at
+Kingswear, from which there is a ferry connection to Dartmouth
+on the opposite side of the river. From Torquay to Newton
+Abbot is only about six miles, and there is a good road
+between the two. Cheyne, therefore, hearing that the train
+had left only five minutes earlier and knowing that there
+would be a delay at the junction waiting for the main line
+train, at once saw that he had a good chance of overtaking
+it.</p>
+
+<p>He did not stop to ask questions, but leaping once more
+on his machine, did the six miles at the highest speed he
+dared. At precisely 4:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> he pushed the bicycle
+into Newton Abbot station, and handing half a crown to a
+porter, told him to look after it until his return.</p>
+
+<p>Hasty inquiries informed him that the train with which
+that from Torquay connected was a slow local from
+Plymouth to Exeter. It had not yet arrived, but was due
+directly. It stopped for seven minutes, being scheduled out
+at 4:10 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> On chance Cheyne bought a third single
+to Exeter, and putting up his collar, pulling down his hat
+over his eyes and affecting a stoop, he passed on to the
+platform. A few people were waiting, but a glance told
+him that neither Price nor Lewisham was among them.</p>
+
+<p>As, however, they might be watching from the shelter
+of one of the waiting rooms, he strolled away towards the
+Exeter end of the platform. As he did so the train came in
+from Plymouth, the engine stopping just opposite where he
+was standing. He began to move back, so as to keep a
+sharp eye on those getting in. But at once a familiar figure
+caught his eye and he stood for a moment motionless.</p>
+
+<p>The coach next the engine was a third, and in the corner
+of its fourth compartment sat Lewisham!</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately he was sitting with his back to the engine
+and he did not see Cheyne approaching from behind.
+Fortunately, also, the opposite corner was occupied by a lady,
+as, had Price been there, Cheyne would unquestionably
+have been discovered.</p>
+
+<p>Retreating quickly, but with triumph in his heart,
+Cheyne got into the end compartment of the coach. It was
+already occupied by three other men, two sitting in the
+corner seats next the platform, the third with his back to
+the engine at the opposite end. Cheyne dropped into the
+remaining corner seat—facing the engine and next the
+corridor. He did not then realize the important issues that
+hung on his having taken up this position, but later he
+marveled at the lucky chance which had placed him there.</p>
+
+<p>As the train proceeded he had an opportunity, for the
+first time since embarking on this wild chase, of calmly
+considering the position, and he at once saw that the fugitives’
+moves up to the present had been dictated by their
+circumstances and were almost obligatory.</p>
+
+<p>First, he now understood that they <em>must</em> have landed at
+Brixham, Paignton, or Torquay, and of these Torquay was
+obviously most suitable to their purpose, being larger than
+the others and their arrival therefore attracting correspondingly
+less attention. But they must have landed at one of
+the three places, as they were the only ports which they
+could reach before he, Cheyne, would have had time to
+give the alarm. Suppose he had lodged information with
+the police immediately on getting ashore, it would have
+been simply impossible for the others to have entered any
+other port without fear of arrest. But at Paignton or
+Torquay they were safe. By no possible chance could the
+machinery of the law have been set in motion in time to
+apprehend them.</p>
+
+<p>He saw also how the men came to be seated in the train
+from Plymouth when it reached Newton Abbot, and here
+again he was lost in admiration at the way in which the
+pair had laid their plans. The first station on the Plymouth
+side of Newton Abbot was Totnes, and from Torquay to
+Totnes by road was a matter of only some ten miles. They
+would just have had time to do the distance, and there
+was no doubt that Totnes was the place to which their taxi
+had taken them. In the event, therefore, of an immediate
+chase, there was every chance of the scent being temporarily
+lost at Torquay.</p>
+
+<p>These thoughts had scarcely passed through Cheyne’s
+mind when the event happened which caused him to
+congratulate himself on the seat he was occupying. At the
+extreme end of the coach, immediately in advance of his
+compartment, was the lavatory, and at this moment, just as
+they were stopping at Teignmouth, a man carrying a small
+kitbag passed along the corridor and entered. Approaching
+from behind Cheyne, he did not see the latter’s face, but
+Cheyne saw him. It was Price!</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne took an engagement book from his pocket and
+bent low over it, lest the other should recognize him on
+his return. But Price remained in the lavatory until they
+reached Dawlish, and here another stroke of luck was in
+store for Cheyne. At Dawlish, at which they stopped a few
+moments later, his vis-à-vis alighted, and Cheyne
+immediately changed his seat. When, therefore, just before the
+train started, Price left the lavatory, he again approached
+Cheyne from behind and again failed to see his face.</p>
+
+<p>As he passed down the corridor Cheyne stared at him.
+While in the lavatory he had effected a wondrous change
+in his appearance. Gone now was the small dark mustache
+and the glasses, his hat was of a different type and his
+overcoat of a different color. Cheyne watched him pause
+hesitatingly at the door of the next compartment and finally
+enter.</p>
+
+<p>For some moments as the train rattled along towards
+Exeter, Cheyne failed to grasp the significance of this last
+move. Then he saw that it was, as usual, part of a
+well-thought-out scheme. Approaching Teignmouth, Price had
+evidently left his compartment—almost certainly the
+fourth, where Lewisham sat—as if he were about to alight
+at the station. Instead of doing so, he had entered the
+lavatory. Disguised, or, more probably, with a previous
+disguise removed, he had left it before the train started from
+Dawlish, and appearing at the door of the second
+compartment, had attempted to convey the idea, almost
+certainly with success, that he had just joined the train.</p>
+
+<p>A further thought made Cheyne swing across again to
+the seat facing the engine. They were approaching
+Starcross. Would Lewisham adopt the same subterfuge at this
+station? But he did not, and they reached Exeter without
+further adventure.</p>
+
+<p>The train going no further, all passengers had to alight.
+Cheyne was in no hurry to move, and by the time he left
+the carriage Price and Lewisham were already far down
+the platform. He wished that he in his turn could find a
+false mustache and glasses, but he realized that if he kept
+his face hidden, his clothes were already a satisfactory
+disguise. He watched the two men begin to pace the
+platform, and soon felt satisfied that they were proceeding
+by a later train.</p>
+
+<p>They had reached Exeter at 5:02 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> Two expresses
+left the station shortly after, the 5:25 for Liverpool, Manchester
+and the north, and the 5:42 for London. Cheyne sat down
+on a deserted seat near the end of the platform and bent
+his head over his notebook while he watched the others.</p>
+
+<p>The 5:25 for the north arrived and left, and still the
+two men continued pacing up and down. “For London,”
+thought Cheyne, and slipping off to the booking hall he
+bought a first single for Paddington. If the men were
+traveling third, he would be better in a different class.</p>
+
+<p>When the London express rolled majestically in, Price
+and Lewisham entered a third near the front of the train.
+Satisfied that he was still unobserved, Cheyne got into the
+first class diner farther back. He had not been very close
+to the men, but he noticed that Lewisham had also made
+some alteration in his appearance, which explained his not
+having changed in the lavatory on the local train.</p>
+
+<p>The express was very fast, stopping only once—at Taunton.
+Here Cheyne, having satisfied himself that his quarry
+had not alighted, settled himself with an easy mind to
+await the arrival at Paddington. He dined luxuriously, and
+when at nine precisely they drew up in the terminus, he
+felt extremely fit and ready for any adventure that might
+offer itself.</p>
+
+<p>From the pages of the many works of detective fiction
+which he had at one time or another digested, he knew
+exactly what to do. Jumping out as the train came to rest,
+he hurried along the platform until he had a view of the
+carriage in which the others had traveled. Then, keeping
+carefully in the background, he awaited developments.</p>
+
+<p>Soon he saw the men alight, cross the platform and engage
+a taxi. This move also he was prepared for. Taking a taxi
+in his turn, he bent forward and said to the driver what
+the sleuths of his novels had so often said to their drivers
+in similar circumstances: “Follow that taxi. Ten bob extra
+if you keep it in sight.”</p>
+
+<p>The driver looked at him curiously, but all he said was:
+“Right y’are, guv’nor,” and they slipped out at the heels of
+the other vehicle into the crowded streets.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne’s driver was a skillful man and they kept steadily
+behind the quarry, not close enough to excite suspicion,
+but too near to run any risk of being shaken off. Cheyne
+was chuckling excitedly and hugging himself at the success
+of his efforts thus far when, with the extraordinary
+capriciousness that Fate so often shows, his luck turned.</p>
+
+<p>They had passed down Praed Street and turned up
+Edgware Road, and it was just where the latter merges
+into Maida Vale that the blow fell. Here the street was up
+and the traffic was congested. Both vehicles slackened down,
+but whereas the leader got through without a stop,
+Cheyne’s was held up to give the road to cross traffic. In
+vain Cheyne chafed and fretted; the raised arm of the
+law could not be disregarded, and when at last they were
+free to go forward, all trace of the other taxi had vanished.</p>
+
+<p>In vain the driver put on a spurt. There were scores of
+vehicles ahead and a thousand and one turnings off the
+straight road. In a few minutes Cheyne had to recognize
+that the game was up and that he had lost his chance.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped and took counsel with his driver, with the
+result that he decided to go back to Paddington in the
+hope that when the other taxi had completed its run it
+would return to the station rank. He had been near enough
+to take its number, and his man was able to give him the
+other driver’s address, in case the latter went home instead
+of to the station.</p>
+
+<p>Having reserved a room at the Station Hotel and written
+a brief note to his sister saying that his business had
+brought him to London and that he would let her know
+when he was returning, he lit his pipe, and turning up the
+collar of his coat, fell to pacing up and down the platform
+alongside the cab rank. He was relieved to find that
+vehicles were still turning up and taking their places at the
+end of the line, and he eagerly scanned the number plate
+of each arrival. For endless aeons of time he seemed to
+wait, and then at last, a few minutes before ten, his
+patience was rewarded. Taxi Z1729 suddenly appeared
+and drew into position.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment Cheyne was beside its driver.</p>
+
+<p>“Ten bob over the fare if you’ll take me quickly to where
+you set down those two men you got off the Cornish
+express,” he said in a low eager voice.</p>
+
+<p>This man also looked at him curiously and answered,
+“Right y’are, guv’nor,” then having paused to say something
+to the driver of the leading car on the rank, they
+turned out into Praed Street.</p>
+
+<p>The man drove rapidly along Edgware Road, through
+Maida Vale and on into a part of the town unfamiliar to
+Cheyne. As they rattled through the endless streets Cheyne
+instructed him not to stop at the exact place, but slightly
+short of it, as he wished to complete the journey on foot.
+It seemed a very long distance, but still the man kept
+steadily on. The town was now taking on a suburban
+appearance and here and there vacant building lots were
+to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>Presently they passed an ornate building which Cheyne
+recongized as the tube station at Hendon, and shortly
+afterwards the vehicle stopped. Cheyne got out and looked
+about him, while the driver explained the lie of the land.</p>
+
+<p>They had turned at right angles off the main thoroughfare
+leading from town into a road which bore the imposing
+title of “Hopefield Avenue.” This penetrated into what
+seemed to be an estate recently handed over to the
+jerry-builder, for all around were small detached and
+semi-detached houses in various stages of construction. Many
+were complete and occupied, but in scores of other cases
+the vacant lots still remained, untouched save for their
+“To let for building” signboards.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving the taxi in a deserted crossroad, the driver
+signified to Cheyne that they should go forward on foot.
+A hundred yards farther on they reached another cross-road—the
+place was laid out in squares like an American city—and
+there the driver pointed to a house in the opposite
+angle, intimating that this was their goal.</p>
+
+<p>It was a small detached villa surrounded by a privet
+hedge and a few small trees and shrubs, evidently not long
+planted. The two adjoining lots, both along Hopefield
+Avenue and down the crossroad—Alwyn Road, Cheyne
+saw its name was—were vacant. Facing it on both streets
+were finished and occupied houses, but in the angle
+diagonally opposite was a new building whose walls were only
+half up.</p>
+
+<p>Thrilled with eager anticipation and excitement, Cheyne
+dismissed the driver with his ten-shilling tip and then
+turned to examine his surroundings more carefully, and to
+devise a plan of campaign for his attack on the enemy’s
+stronghold.</p>
+
+<p>He began by crossing Alwyn Road and walking along
+Hopefield Avenue past the house, while he examined it as
+well as he could by the light of the street lamps. It was a
+two-story building of rather pleasing design, apparently
+quite new, and conforming to the type of small suburban
+villas springing up by thousands all around London. As
+far as he could make out it had the usual rectangular plan,
+a red-tiled roof with deep overhanging eaves and a large
+porch with above it a balcony, roofed over but open in
+front. A narrow walk edged with flower beds led across the
+forty or fifty feet of lawn between the road and the hall
+door. On the green gate Cheyne could just make out the
+words “Laurel Lodge” in white letters. So far as he could
+see the house appeared to be deserted, the windows and
+fanlight being in darkness. After the two vacant lots was
+a half-finished house.</p>
+
+<p>Returning presently, he passed the house again, this time
+rounding its corner and walking down Alwyn Road.
+Between the first vacant lot and Laurel Lodge ran a
+narrow lane, evidently intended to be the approach to the
+back premises of the future houses.</p>
+
+<p>Glancing round and seeing that no one was in sight,
+Cheyne slipped into this lane, and crouching behind a
+shrub, examined the back of Laurel Lodge.</p>
+
+<p>It was very dark in the lane. Presently it would be
+lighter, as a quadrant moon was rising, but for the moment
+everything outside the radius of the street lamps was
+hidden in a black pall. The outline of the house was just
+discernible against the sky, though Cheyne could not from
+here make out the details of its construction. But, standing
+out sharply against its black background, was one brightly
+illuminated rectangle—a window on the first floor.</p>
+
+<p>The window was open at the top, and the light colored
+blind was pulled down, though even from where he stood
+Cheyne could see that it did not entirely reach the bottom
+of the opening. Even as he watched a shadow appeared on
+the blind. It was a man’s head and shoulders and it
+remained steady for a moment, then moved slowly out of
+sight.</p>
+
+<p>Stealthily Cheyne edged his way forward. The back
+premises of Laurel Lodge were separated from the lane by
+a gate, and this Cheyne opened silently, passing within.
+Gradually he worked his way round a tiny greenhouse and
+between a few flower beds until he reached the wall of
+the house. There he listened intently, but no sound came
+from above.</p>
+
+<p>“If only I could get up to the window,” he thought,
+“I could see in under the blind.”</p>
+
+<p>But there was no roof or tree upon which he might
+have climbed, and he stood motionless, undecided what
+to do next.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly an idea occurred to him, and full once more
+of eager excitement, he carefully retraced his steps until he
+reached the lane. It ran on between rough wire palings,
+past the two vacant lots and behind the adjoining
+half-finished house. Cheyne followed it until he reached the
+half-completed building, and then entering, he began to
+search for a short ladder.</p>
+
+<p>Every moment the light of the rising moon was increasing,
+and after stumbling about and making noises which
+sent him into a cold sweat of apprehension, he succeeded,
+partly by sight and partly by feeling, in finding what he
+wanted. Then with great care he lifted it into the lane
+and bore it back to Laurel Lodge.</p>
+
+<p>With infinite pains he carried it through the gate, round
+the greenhouse, and past the flower beds to the house. Then
+fixing the bottom on the grass plot which surrounded the
+building, he lowered it gently against the wall at the side
+of the window.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later he reached the slot of clear glass showing
+beneath the blind and peered into the room. There he
+saw a sight so unexpected that in spite of his precarious
+position a cry of surprise all but escaped him.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch06">
+
+<h2>Chapter VI. <br> The House in Hopefield Avenue</h2>
+
+<p>The room was of medium size and plainly though
+comfortably furnished as a man’s study or smoking room. In
+one corner was a small roll-top desk, in another a table
+bearing books and papers and a tantalus. Two large
+leather-covered armchairs stood one at each side of the
+grate, in which burned a cheerful fire. In the corner
+opposite the window was a press or cupboard built into the
+wall, and in front of this all furniture had been cleared
+away, leaving a wide unoccupied space on the floor. Beside
+the wall near this space was a large camera, already set
+up, and on a table beside it lay a flashlight apparatus
+and two dark slides, apparently of full plate size.</p>
+
+<p>In the room were four persons, and it was the identity
+of the last of these that had so amazed Cheyne. Standing
+beside the camera were Price and Lewisham, while no less
+a personage than Mr. Hubert Parkes of Edgecombe
+Hotel notoriety stood looking on with his back to the fire.
+But it was not on these that Cheyne’s eyes were glued.
+Reclining in one of the armchairs with her feet on the
+fender was Susan, the house and parlormaid at Warren
+Lodge!</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne gasped. Here was the explanation of one
+mystery at all events. He saw now where the gang’s knowledge
+of himself and his surroundings had been obtained. He
+remembered that he had discussed his visit to Plymouth
+during dinner, a day or two before the event. Susan had
+been waiting at table, and Susan had been the channel
+through which the information had been passed on. And
+the burglary! He could see Susan’s hand in this also. In
+all probability she had taken full advantage of her
+opportunities to make a thorough search of the house for Price’s
+letter, and it was doubtless only when it became necessary
+to deal with the safe that her friends had been called in.
+Probably also she had been waiting for them, and had
+admitted them and shown them over the house before
+submitting to be tied up as a blind to mislead the detectives
+who would presumably be called in. Cheyne suspected also
+that Price’s visit was timed at a propitious moment, when
+he himself was available and with a free afternoon to be
+filled up. No doubt Susan’s part in the affair had been
+vital to its success.</p>
+
+<p>But her participation also showed the extraordinary
+importance which the conspirators attached to the letter.
+Susan’s makeup for the part she was to play, the forging
+of her references, her installation in the Cheyne household
+and her undertaking nearly two months of domestic
+service in order to gain the document, showed a tenacity of
+purpose which could only have been evoked to attain
+some urgent end. Evidently the gang believed that Price’s
+claim on the barony was good, and evidently the others
+intended to share the spoils.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne watched breathlessly what was going on in the
+room, and to his delight he presently found that through
+the open upper sash he could also hear a good deal of
+what was said.</p>
+
+<p>The camera had been set up to face the cupboard, and
+Cheyne now saw that a document of some kind was
+fastened with drawing pins to its door. Price put his head
+under the cloth and moved the camera back and forwards,
+evidently focusing it on the document. Lewisham lifted
+and examined the flashlight apparatus, then stood
+waiting. Parkes stooped and said something in a low tone to
+Susan, at which she laughed sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think two will be enough or should we take
+four?” said Price when he had arranged the camera to his
+satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>“Two, I should say,” Parkes answered. “Even if we lost
+the tracing, two negatives should be an ample record.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should take four,” Lewisham declared. “After all
+we’ve done what is the extra trouble of developing a
+couple of negatives? One or two might be failures.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sime is right,” Price decided. “I shall take four.”</p>
+
+<p>Sime? Cheyne thought perplexedly that the man who
+had run the motor on the <i>Enid</i> had been introduced to
+him as Lewisham. Sime, was it? Then it occurred to him
+that probably each one of the four had met him under an
+assumed name, and he listened even more intently in the
+hope of finding this out.</p>
+
+<p>“I wonder if that ass Cheyne put the cops on to us,”
+went on Sime to the company generally. “James talked to
+him like a father and he seemed to swallow it all down as
+sweet as milk. Lordy! But you should have heard old
+James spouting. He rattled off his patter like a good ’un.
+Fresh absurdities each time and all that. Didn’t you,
+James?”</p>
+
+<p>“He didn’t give much trouble,” Price replied. “I
+shouldn’t have believed anyone would have given in as
+soft as he did. I pitched him a yarn about yours truly being
+heir to the barony of Hull that wouldn’t have deceived an
+oyster, and he sucked it in like a sponge. But it wasn’t that
+that worked. It was keeping him without water that did
+the trick. When I offered him another day to think it over
+he collapsed like a pricked bubble.”</p>
+
+<p>“So would you if you had been in his shoes,” Susan
+declared. “I’d like to see you standing out for anything
+against your own comfort.”</p>
+
+<p>“You wouldn’t have seen me get into his shoes,” Price
+retorted, fitting a dark slide into the camera. “Now, Sime,
+if you’re ready.”</p>
+
+<p>Price pressed the bulb uncovering the lens and at the
+same time Sime burned a length of magnesium wire
+before the document on the door, while Cheyne writhed
+with impotent rage at the discovery that he had been
+duped in still another particular.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ve done uncommonly well,” Parkes remarked when
+the photograph had been taken, “but we’re not by any
+means out of the wood yet. In fact, the real work is only
+beginning. We don’t even yet know the size of the
+problem we’re up against. We’ve got to find that out and then
+we’ve got to make a plan and put it through, and all the
+time we’ve got to lie low in case that infernal ass has
+reported us to the police.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ve got to get these photographs taken and then
+we’ve got to get our supper,” retorted Price. “For goodness
+sake let’s have one thing at a time, Blessington. If you’d
+lend a hand instead of standing there preaching, it would
+be more to the point.”</p>
+
+<p>Here was another alias. Parkes’s real name was
+Blessington. Cheyne was beginning to wonder what Price and
+Susan were really called, when the next remark satisfied
+his curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>Parkes—or Blessington—took Price’s remark easily.</p>
+
+<p>“Now that’s where you make the mistake, Mr. James
+Dangle,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Miss Dangle
+and I do the real work in this joint: don’t we, Miss
+Dangle? We supply the brains, you and Sime only rise to
+the muscles. Eh, Miss Dangle?”</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Dangle was not in a mood for pleasantries.</p>
+
+<p>“We shall want all the brains that you can supply and
+more,” she answered irritably, and then turning lazily to
+the others demanded if they weren’t ever going to be done
+messing with the darned camera.</p>
+
+<p>At last Cheyne thought he had got the four fixed in his
+mind. The man on the rug—the man who had drugged
+him in the Plymouth hotel—was Blessington. The man
+who had introduced himself as Lamson and afterwards
+said his name was Price bore neither of these appellations:
+his name was Dangle. Susan was “Miss Dangle” and
+almost certainly sister to James. Lewisham, the motorman
+of the <i>Enid</i>, was Sime.</p>
+
+<p>Dangle, Sime, and Blessington! Why, there was
+something sinister in the very names, and as Cheyne peeped
+guardedly in beneath the blind, he felt there was
+something even more sinister in their owners. Dangle, with his
+hard-bitten features and without his veneer of polish,
+looked a crafty scoundrel. There was a nasty gleam in his
+foxy eyes. He looked a man who would sell his best friend
+for a shilling. Perhaps Cheyne’s imagination had by this
+time run away with him, but Sime now struck him as a
+murderous-looking ruffian, and Blessington’s smug
+features seemed but to cloak an evil and cruel nature. He was
+smiling, but there was nothing mirthful about his smile.
+Rather was it the expression that a wolf might be
+supposed to wear when he sees a sheep helpless before his
+attack. Cheyne did not know if Susan was dangerous, but
+he had always suspected she could be vindictive and
+bad-tempered. A nice crew, he thought, and he shivered in
+spite of himself as he pictured his fate were some accident
+to lead to his discovery.</p>
+
+<p>And what inventive genius they had shown! They had
+now told him three yarns, all convincing, well-thought-out
+statements, and all entirely false. There was first of all
+Blessington’s dissertation of his, Cheyne’s, literary efforts,
+told to get him off his guard so that a drug might be
+administered to him and his pockets be searched. Then
+there was the account of the position indicator for ships,
+detailed and plausible, a bait to lure him voluntarily
+aboard the <i>Enid</i>. Lastly there was the story of the Hull
+succession, including the interesting episode of the
+attempted rescue of the uncle St. John Price, undoubtedly
+related with the object of reducing Cheyne’s scruples in
+handing over the letter. These people were certainly past
+masters in the art of decorative lying, and once again he
+marveled at the trouble which had been taken in making
+each story watertight so as to assure its success. It was for
+no small reward that this had been done.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was getting stiff with cold on the ladder.
+Though keenly interested in what he saw, he wished his
+enemies would make some move so that he might advance
+or, if necessary, retreat. But they appeared in no special
+hurry, proceeding with the photographs in the most
+careful and deliberate way.</p>
+
+<p>A desultory conversation was kept up, only part of
+which he heard, but nothing further was said which threw
+any light on the identity of the conspirators or on the
+objects for which they were assembled. The work with the
+camera progressed, however, and presently three
+photographs had been taken.</p>
+
+<p>“Once more,” he heard Dangle remark, and having
+pulled out the shutter, the whilom skipper of the <i>Enid</i>
+pressed the bulb and another photograph was taken.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s four altogether,” Dangle went on in satisfied
+tones. “I guess we’re well provided for against accidents.
+What about that bit of supper, old lady?”</p>
+
+<p>“Aren’t we waiting for you?” Susan demanded as she
+slowly pulled herself up out of the chair. “Gosh!” she went
+on, lazily stretching herself and yawning, “but it’s good to
+be done with Devonshire! I was fed up, I can tell you!
+Susan this and Susan that! ‘Susan, we’ll have tea now,’
+‘Susan, you might bring a tray and take up the mistress’s
+breakfast,’ ‘Susan, you might light the fire in the study;
+Mr. Cheyne wants to work.’ Yah! I guess I’ve about done
+my share.”</p>
+
+<p>The men exchanged glances, but only Dangle spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess you have, old girl,” he conceded. “But finish
+out this job and you’ll live like a lady for the rest of your
+life.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’ll be a poor look out for you if I don’t,” she grumbled,
+and Sime having opened the door, she passed out, followed
+by the others. Cheyne, watching breathlessly, saw a light
+spring up in a ground floor window, fortunately not below
+him, but at the far end of the house.</p>
+
+<p>His heart beat quickly. Was it possible that his great
+chance had come already and that the gang had delivered
+themselves into his hands? A little coolness, a little
+daring, a little nerve, and he believed he could carry off a <i>coup</i>
+that would entirely reverse the situation. The document
+on the wall must surely be that which these criminals had
+stolen from him. Could he not regain it while they were
+downstairs at their supper? He decided with fierce delight
+that he would try. It was an adventure after his own
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Carefully he grasped the lower sash and pressed gently
+upwards. To his delight it moved. With infinite care he
+pushed it higher and higher until at last he was able to
+work his way into the room. Evidently he had not been
+heard, as the muffled sounds of conversation continued to
+rise unbrokenly from the supper room. He tiptoed lightly
+across the room and gazed in surprise at the document
+fixed to the wall.</p>
+
+<p>It was certainly not the copy of a birth or marriage
+certificate nor anything connected with a claim to a
+barony! It was a sheet of tracing linen some fifteen inches
+high by twelve wide, covered with little circles spaced
+irregularly and without any apparent plan, like the keys
+of a typewriter gone mad. Some of these circles contained
+numbers and others letters, also arranged without
+apparent plan. The only thing he could read about the whole
+document was a phrase, written in a circle from the
+center like the figures on a clock dial: “England expects
+every man to do his duty.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne stared in amazement, but soon realizing that
+his time might be short, he silently removed the drawing
+pins, folded the tracing and thrust it into his pocket. Then
+turning to the camera, he withdrew the dark slide, opened
+first one and then the other of its shutters, closed them
+again and replaced it in the camera. A few seconds
+sufficed to open and close the shutters of the other slide
+lying on the table. With a hurried glance round to make
+sure that no other paper was lying about which might also
+have formed part of the contents of Price’s envelope, he
+tiptoed back to the window and prepared to make his
+escape.</p>
+
+<p>But as he laid his hand on the blind he was halted by a
+sound from below. Someone had opened what was
+evidently the back door of the house and had stepped out on
+the ground below the window. Then Sime’s voice came,
+grumbling and muffled: “Where the blazes do you keep
+the darned stuff? How can I find it in the dark?” There
+was a moment’s pause, then in a changed voice a sudden
+sharp call of “Here, James! Look here quickly! What’s
+this?”</p>
+
+<p>He had seen the ladder! Cheyne realized that his retreat
+was cut off!</p>
+
+<p>A sudden tumult arose downstairs. Hasty feet ran
+towards the garden and voices spoke low and hurriedly
+beneath the window. Cheyne saw that his only hope lay in
+instant action. He silently hurried across the room, tore the
+door open and ran to the head of the stairs. His hope was
+that he might slip down and out of the door while the
+others were still at the back of the house.</p>
+
+<p>But he was just too late. As he reached the stairs he
+heard steps approaching the hall below. His retreat was
+cut off in this direction also.</p>
+
+<p>There remained only one thing to do and he did it
+almost without thought. Opening the next door to that of
+the sitting room, he stepped noiselessly inside, closing the
+door save for a narrow chink through which he could hear
+and see what was happening.</p>
+
+<p>Two of the men had raced up to the sitting room, and
+peeping out, Cheyne saw that they were Blessington and
+Sime. In a moment they were out again and running
+down, shouting: “It’s gone, James! The tracing’s gone!”
+Sounds indicative of surprise and consternation arose
+from below, but Cheyne could no longer hear the words.
+Then through the window, which also looked out over the
+garden, he heard Dangle’s voice: “Keep guard of the
+house, Susan and Blessington. Come with me, Sime,” and
+the sound of two pairs of feet rushing away towards the
+lane.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively Cheyne realized that his chance had come.
+It was now or never. If he could not escape while two of
+the conspirators were away, he would have no chance
+when all four were present.</p>
+
+<p>He came out of his hiding-place and peeped through
+the well down into the hall. The electric light had been
+turned on and the hall was brilliantly illuminated. In it
+stood Blessington, glancing alternately up the stairs and
+out through a door to the back. In his hand he held an
+automatic pistol, and from the look of fury and
+desperation on his face Cheyne had no doubt that he would not
+hesitate to use it if he saw him.</p>
+
+<p>“They must have only just gone!” Blessington cried
+through the door with a lurid oath, and Susan’s voice
+answered with another equally vivid string of blasphemy.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne stood tense, scarcely daring to breathe and on
+the <i>qui vive</i> to take advantage of any chance that might
+offer. But Blessington wasn’t going to give chances. He
+stood there with his pistol raised, and unarmed as Cheyne
+was, he recognized the hopelessness of trying to rush him.</p>
+
+<p>He thought there might be a chance of escape from
+some of the other rooms, and silently crept about in the
+hope of finding a window or skylight from which he might
+perhaps obtain access to a downspout. But so far as he
+could ascertain in the dark there was nothing of the kind,
+and after a few minutes had passed he retraced his steps
+and set himself to watch Blessington.</p>
+
+<p>He wondered whether he could make some noise with
+the ladder which would attract the two watchers to the
+garden and thus enable him to make a bolt for the front
+door, but while he was considering this he heard other
+voices which revealed the fact that Dangle and Sime had
+returned. Then Dangle’s voice sounded in the hall: “’Fraid
+they’ve got away, but we’d better search the house again
+to make sure. You stick at the stairs, Susan, while we do
+the lower rooms.”</p>
+
+<p>Steps sounded below as the men moved from room to
+room. Cheyne’s heart was pounding as it had done on
+different occasions before his ship had gone into action
+during the war, but he was calm and collected and
+determined to take the least chance that offered.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he heard the men joining Susan in the hall.
+Now was the only chance he was likely to get and at all
+costs he must make the most of it. He hurried back to the
+sitting room window, and setting his teeth, lifted the blind
+and silently crawled out.</p>
+
+<p>So far he had not been seen, and as rapidly as he dared
+he climbed down the ladder. Another five seconds and he
+would have got clear away, but at that moment the alarm
+was given. One of the men, looking out of a window, saw
+him in the now fairly clear light of the moon. Hurried
+steps sounded and Blessington appeared at the open door.</p>
+
+<p>Fearful of his pistol, Cheyne leaped for his life. He
+landed on his feet, staggered, recovered himself and darted
+like a hare across the flower beds. With any ordinary luck
+he should have got clear away, but Blessington had picked
+up a broom as he ran, and this he threw with fatal aim. It
+caught Cheyne between the legs and he fell headlong.
+Other steps came hurrying up. By the light streaming from
+the back door he saw an arm raised. It fell and something
+crashed with a sickening thud on his head.</p>
+
+<p>He saw a vivid shower of sparks, there was a roaring
+in his ears, great dark waves seemed to rise up and
+encompass him, and he remembered no more.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch07">
+
+<h2>Chapter VII. <br> Miss Joan Merrill</h2>
+
+<p>After what seemed ages of forgetfulness a confused sense
+of pain began to make itself felt in Maxwell Cheyne’s
+being, growing in force and definition as he gradually
+struggled back to consciousness. At first his whole body
+ached sickeningly, but as time passed the major suffering
+concentrated itself in his head. It throbbed as if it would
+burst, and he felt a terrible oppression, as if the weight of
+the universe rested upon it. So on the border line of
+consciousness he hovered for still further ages of time.</p>
+
+<p>Presently by gradual stages the memory of his recent
+adventure returned to him, and he began vaguely to
+realize that the murderous attempt which had been made
+on him had failed and that he still lived.</p>
+
+<p>Encouraged by this reassuring thought, he hesitatingly
+essayed the feat of opening his eyes. For a time he gazed,
+confused by the dim shapes about him, but at last he came
+more fully to himself and was able to register what he
+saw.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost dark, indeed most of the arc over which
+his eyes could travel was perfectly so. But here and there
+he noticed parallelograms of a less inky blackness, and
+after some time the significance of these penetrated his
+brain and he knew where he was.</p>
+
+<p>He was lying on his back on the ground in the half-built
+house from which he had taken the ladder, and the
+parallelograms were the openings in the walls into which
+doors and windows would afterwards be fitted. Against
+the faint light without, which he took to be that of the
+moonlit sky, he could see dimly the open joists of the floor
+above him, a piece of the herringbone strutting of which
+cut across the space for one of the upstairs windows.</p>
+
+<p>Feeling slightly better he tried his pocket, to find, as he
+expected, that the tracing was gone. Presently he attempted
+some more extensive movement. But at once an intolerable
+pang shot through him, and, sick and faint, he lay still.
+With a dawning horror he wondered whether his back
+might not be broken, or whether the blow on his head
+might not have produced paralysis. He groaned aloud and
+sank back once more into unconsciousness.</p>
+
+<p>After a time he became sentient again, sick and giddy,
+but more fully conscious. While he could not think
+collectedly, the idea became gradually fixed in his mind that
+he must somehow get away from his present position,
+partly lest his enemies might return to complete their work,
+and partly lest, if he stayed, he might die before the
+workmen came in the morning. Therefore, setting his teeth, he
+made a supreme effort and, in spite of the terrible pain in
+his head, succeeded in turning over on to his hands and
+knees.</p>
+
+<p>In this new position he remained motionless for some
+time, but presently he began to crawl slowly and painfully
+out towards the road. At intervals he had to stop to
+recover himself, but at length after superhuman efforts he
+succeeded in reaching the paling separating the lot from
+Hopefield Avenue. There he sank down exhausted and for
+some time lay motionless in a state of coma.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he became conscious of the sound of light but
+rapid footsteps approaching on the footpath at the other
+side of the paling, and once more summoning all his
+resolution he nerved himself to listen. The steps drew
+nearer until he judged their owner was just passing and
+then he cried as loudly as he could: “Help!”</p>
+
+<p>The footsteps stopped and Cheyne gasped out: “Help!
+I’ve hurt my head: an accident.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment’s silence and then a girl’s voice
+sounded.</p>
+
+<p>“Where are you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Here,” Cheyne answered, “at the back of the fence.”
+He felt dimly that he ought to give some explanation of his
+predicament, and went on in weak tones: “I was looking
+through the house and fell. Can you help me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course,” the girl answered. “I’ll go to the police
+station in Cleeve Road—it’s only five minutes—and they
+will look after you in no time.”</p>
+
+<p>This was not what Cheyne wanted. He had not yet
+decided whether he would call in the police and he was
+too much upset at the moment to consider the point. In
+the meantime, therefore, it would be better if nothing was
+said.</p>
+
+<p>“Please not,” he begged. “Just send a taxi to take me to
+a hospital.”</p>
+
+<p>The girl hesitated, then replied: “All right. Let me see
+first if I can make you a bit more comfortable.”</p>
+
+<p>The effort of speaking and thinking had so overcome
+Cheyne that he sank back once more into a state of coma,
+and it was only half consciously that he felt his head being
+lifted and some soft thing like a folded coat being placed
+beneath. Then the girl’s pleasant voice said: “Now just
+stay quiet and I shall have a taxi here in a moment.” A
+further period of waiting ensued and he felt himself being
+lifted and carried a few steps. A jolting then began which
+so hurt his head that he fainted again, and for still further
+interminable ages he remembered no more.</p>
+
+<p>When he finally regained his faculties he found himself
+in bed, physically more comfortable than he could have
+believed possible, but utterly exhausted. He was content
+to lie motionless, not troubling as to where he was or how
+he came there. Presently he fell asleep and when he woke
+he plucked up energy enough to open his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>It was light and he saw that he was in hospital. Several
+other beds were in the ward and a nurse was doing
+something at the end of the room. Presently she came over,
+saw that he was awake, and smiled at him.</p>
+
+<p>“Better?” she said cheerily.</p>
+
+<p>“I think so,” he answered weakly. “Where am I,
+nurse?”</p>
+
+<p>“In the Albert Edward Hospital. You’ve had a nasty
+knock on your head, but you’re going to be all right. Now
+you’re to keep quiet and not talk.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne didn’t want to talk and he lay motionless,
+luxuriating in the complete cessation of effort. After a
+time a doctor came and looked at him, but it was too much
+trouble to be interested about the doctor, and in any case
+he soon disappeared. Sometimes when he opened his eyes
+the nurse was there and sometimes she wasn’t, and other
+people seemed to drift about for no very special reason.
+Then it was dark in the ward, evidently night again. The
+next day the same thing happened, and so for many days.</p>
+
+<p>He had been troubled with the vague thoughts of his
+mother and sister, and on one occasion when he was
+feeling a little less tired than usual he had called the nurse
+and asked her to write to his sister, saying that he had met
+with a slight accident and was staying on in town for a
+few days. Miss Cheyne telegraphed to know if she could
+help, but the nurse, without troubling her patient, had
+replied: “Not at present.”</p>
+
+<p>At last there came a time when Cheyne began to feel
+more his own man and able, without bringing on an
+intolerable headache, to think collectedly about his
+situation. And at once two points arose in his mind upon which
+he felt an immediate decision must be made.</p>
+
+<p>The first was: What answer should he return to the
+inevitable questions he would be asked as to how he met
+with his injury? Should he lodge an information against
+Messrs. Dangle, Sime and Co., accuse them of attempted
+murder and put the machinery of the law in motion
+against them? Or should he stick to his tale that an
+accident had happened, and keep the affair of Hopefield
+Avenue to himself?</p>
+
+<p>After anxious consideration he decided on the latter
+alternative. If he were to tell the police now he would
+find it hard to explain why he had not done so earlier.
+Moreover, with returning strength came back the desire
+which he had previously experienced, to meet these men
+on their own ground and himself defeat them. He
+remembered how exceedingly nearly he had done so on this
+occasion. Had it not been for the accident of something
+being required from the garden or outhouse he would have
+got clear away, and he hoped for better luck next time.</p>
+
+<p>A third consideration also weighed with him. He was
+not sure how far he himself had broken the law. Housebreaking
+and burglary were serious crimes, and he had an
+uncomfortable feeling that others might not consider his
+excuse for these actions as valid as he did himself. In fact
+he was not sure how he stood legally. Under the
+circumstances would his proper course not have been to lodge an
+information against Dangle and Sime immediately on
+getting ashore from the <i>Enid</i>, and let the police with a
+search warrant recover Price’s letter? But he saw at once
+that that would have been useless. The men would have
+denied the theft, and he could not have proved it. His
+letter to his bank manager would have been evidence that
+he had handed it over to them of his own free will. No, to
+go to the police would not have got him anywhere. In his
+own eyes he had been right to act as he had, and his only
+course now was to pursue the same policy and keep the
+police out of it.</p>
+
+<p>When, therefore, a couple of days later the doctor, who
+had been puzzled by the affair, questioned him on it, he
+made up a tale. He replied that he had for some time been
+looking for a house in the suburbs, that the outline of that
+in question had appealed to him, and that he had climbed
+in to see the internal accommodation. In the semidarkness
+he had fallen, striking his head on a heap of bricks. He
+had been unconscious for some time, but had then been
+able to crawl to the street, where the lady had been kind
+enough to have him taken to the hospital.</p>
+
+<p>This brought him back to the second point which had
+been occupying his mind since he had regained the power
+of consecutive thought: the lady. What exactly had she
+done for him? How had she got him to the hospital and
+secured his admission? Had she taken a taxi, and if so, had
+she herself paid for it? Cheyne felt that he must see her to
+learn these particulars and to thank her for her kindness
+and help.</p>
+
+<p>He broached the subject to the nurse, who laughed and
+said she had been expecting the question. Miss Merrill
+had brought him herself to the hospital and had since
+called up a couple of times to inquire for him. The nurse
+presumed the young lady had herself paid for the taxi, as
+no question about the matter had been raised.</p>
+
+<p>This information seemed to Cheyne to involve
+communication with Miss Merrill at the earliest possible
+moment. The nurse would not let him write himself, but
+at his dictation she sent a line expressing his gratitude for
+the lady’s action and begging leave to call on his leaving
+the hospital.</p>
+
+<p>In answer to this there was a short note signed “Joan
+Merrill,” which stated that the writer was pleased to hear
+that Mr. Cheyne was recovering and that she would see
+him if he called. The note was headed 17 Horne Terrace,
+Burton Street, Chelsea. Cheyne admired the hand and
+passed a good deal of his superabundant time speculating
+as to the personality of the writer and wondering what a
+Chelsea lady could have been doing in the Hendon
+suburbs after midnight on the date of his adventure.
+When, therefore, a few days later he was discharged from
+the hospital, he betook himself to Chelsea with more than
+a little eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>Horne Terrace proved to be a block of workers’ flats,
+and inquiries at No. 17 produced the information that
+Miss Merrill occupied Flat No. 12—the top floor on the
+left-hand side. Speculating still further as to the
+personality of a lady who would choose such a dwelling, Cheyne
+essayed researches into the upper regions. A climb which
+left him weak and panting after his sojourn in bed
+brought him to the tenth floor, on which one of the doors
+bore the number he sought. To recover himself before
+knocking he felt constrained to sit down for a few
+moments on the stairs, and as he was thus resting the door
+of No. 12 opened and a girl came out.</p>
+
+<p>She was of middle height, slender and willowy, though
+the lines of her figure were somewhat concealed by the
+painter’s blue overall which she wore. She was not
+beautiful in the classic sense, yet but few would have failed to
+find pleasure in the sight of her pretty, pleasant, kindly
+face, with its straightforward expression, and the direct
+gaze of her hazel eyes. Her face was rather thin and her
+chin rather sharp for perfect symmetry, but her nose tilted
+adorably and the arch of her eyebrows was delicacy itself.
+Her complexion was pale, but with the pallor of perfect
+health. But her great glory was her hair. It covered her
+head with a crown of burnished gold, and though in
+Cheyne’s opinion it lost much of its beauty from being
+shingled, it gave her an aureole like that of a medieval
+saint in a stained glass window. Like a saint, indeed, she
+seemed to Cheyne; a very human and approachable saint,
+it is true, but a saint for all that. Seated on the top step of
+the stairs he was transfixed by the unexpected vision, and
+remained staring over his shoulder at her while he
+endeavored to collect his scattered wits.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of a strange young man seated on the steps
+outside her door seemed equally astonishing to the vision,
+and she promptly stopped and stood staring at Cheyne.
+So they remained for an appreciable time, until Cheyne,
+flushed and abashed, stumbled to his feet and plunged into
+apologies.</p>
+
+<p>As a result of his somewhat incoherent explanation a
+light dawned on her face and she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you’re Mr. Cheyne,” she exclaimed. She looked at
+him very searchingly, then invited: “But of course! Won’t
+you come in?”</p>
+
+<p>He followed her into No. 12. It proved to be a fair-sized
+room fitted up partly as a sitting room and partly as a
+studio. A dormer window close to the fireplace gave on an
+expanse of roofs and chimneys with, in a gap between two
+houses, a glimpse of the lead-colored waters of the river.
+In the partially covered ceiling was a large skylight which
+lit up a model’s throne, and an easel bearing a
+half-finished study of a woman’s head. Other canvases, mostly
+figures in various stages of completion, were ranged
+round the walls, and the usual artist’s paraphernalia of
+brushes and palettes and color tubes lay about. Drawn up
+to the fire were a couple of easy-chairs, books and
+ashtrays lay on an occasional table, while on another table
+was a tea equipage. A door beside the fireplace led to what
+was presumably the lady’s bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>“Can you find a seat?” she went on, indicating the
+larger of the two armchairs. “You have come at a
+propitious moment. I was just about to make tea.”</p>
+
+<p>“That sounds delightful,” Cheyne declared. “I came at
+the first moment that I thought I decently could. I was
+discharged from the hospital this morning and I thought I
+couldn’t let a day pass without coming to try at least to
+express my thanks for what you did for me.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Merrill had filled an aluminum kettle from a tap
+at a small sink and now placed it on a gas stove.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll suppose the thanks expressed, all due and right
+and proper,” she answered. “But I’ll tell you what you can
+do. Light the stove! It makes such a plop I hate to go near
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne, having duly produced the expected plop,
+returned to his armchair and took up again the burden of
+his tale.</p>
+
+<p>“But that’s all very well, Miss Merrill; awfully good of
+you and all that,” he protested, “but it doesn’t really meet
+the case at all. If you hadn’t come along and played the
+good Samaritan I should have died. I was—”</p>
+
+<p>“If you don’t stop talking about it I shall begin to wish
+you had,” she smiled. “How did the accident happen? I
+should be interested to hear that, because I’ve thought
+about it and haven’t been able to imagine any way it
+could have come about.”</p>
+
+<p>“I want to tell you.” Cheyne looked into her clear eyes
+and suddenly said more than he had intended. “In fact, I
+should like to tell you the whole thing from the beginning.
+It’s rather a queer tale. You mayn’t believe it, but I think
+it would interest you. But first—please don’t be angry, but
+you must let me ask the question—did you pay for the taxi
+or whatever means you took to get me to the hospital?”</p>
+
+<p>She laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you are persistent. However, I suppose I may
+allow you to pay for that. It was five and six, if you must
+know, and a shilling to the man because he helped to
+carry you and took no end of trouble.” She blushed
+slightly as if recognizing the unconscious admission. “A
+whole six and six you owe me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that all, Miss Merrill? Do tell me if there was
+anything else.”</p>
+
+<p>“There was nothing else, Mr. Cheyne. That squares
+everything between us.”</p>
+
+<p>“By Jove! That’s the last thing it does! But if I mustn’t
+speak of that, I mustn’t. But please tell me this also. I
+understood from the nurse that you came with me to
+hospital. I am horrified every time I think of your having so
+much trouble, and I should like to understand how it all
+happened.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s not much to tell,” Miss Merrill answered. “It
+was all very simple and straightforward. There happened
+to be a garage in the main street, quite close, and I went
+there and got a taxi. It was very dark, and when the
+driver and I looked over the fence we could not see you,
+but the driver fortunately had a flash lamp for examining
+his engine, and with its help we saw that you had fainted.
+We found you very awkward to get out.” She smiled and
+her face lighted up charmingly. “We had to drag you
+round to the side of the building where there was a wire
+paling instead of the close sheeted fence in front. I held up
+the wires and the cabby dragged you through. Then when
+we got you into the cab I had to go along too, because the
+cabby said he wouldn’t take what might easily be a dead
+body—a corp, he called it—without someone to account
+for its presence. He talked of you as if you were a sack of
+coal.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was really upset by the recital.</p>
+
+<p>“Good Lord!” he cried. “I can’t say how distressed I am
+to know what I let you in for. I can’t ever forget it. All
+right, I won’t,” he added as she held up her hand. “Go on,
+please. I want to hear it all.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Merrill’s hazel eyes twinkled as she continued:</p>
+
+<p>“By the time we got to the hospital I was sure that
+nothing would save me from being hanged for murder. But
+there was no trouble. I simply told my story, left my name
+and address, and that was all. Now tell me what really
+happened to you; or rather wait until we’ve had tea.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne sat back in his chair admiring the easy grace
+with which she moved about as she prepared the meal. She
+was really an awfully nice looking girl, he thought; not
+perhaps exactly pretty, but jolly looking, the kind of girl
+it is a pleasure just to sit down and watch. And as they
+chatted over tea he discovered that she had a mind of her
+own. Indeed, she showed a nimble wit and a shrewd if
+rather quaint outlook on men and things.</p>
+
+<p>“You mentioned Dartmouth just now,” she remarked
+presently. “Do you know it well?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I live there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you really? Do you know people there called
+Beresford?”</p>
+
+<p>“Archie and Flo? Rather. They live on our road, but
+about half a mile nearer the town. Do you know them?”</p>
+
+<p>“Flo only. I’ve been going to stay with them two or
+three times, though for one reason or another it has
+always fallen through. I was at school with Flo—Flo
+Salter, she was then.”</p>
+
+<p>“By Jove! Archie is rather a pal of mine. Comes out
+yachting sometimes. A good sort.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve never met him, but I used to chum with Flo.
+Congratulations, Mr. Cheyne.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne stared at her and she smiled gaily across.</p>
+
+<p>“You haven’t said that the world is very small after all,”
+she explained.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t think of it or I should,” he admitted. “But I
+hope you will come down to the Beresfords. I’d love to
+take you out in my yacht—that is, if you like yachting.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s a promise,” the girl declared. “If I come I shall
+hold you to it.”</p>
+
+<p>When tea was removed and cigarettes were alight she
+returned to the subject of his adventure.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” Cheyne answered, “I should like to tell you the
+whole story if it really wouldn’t bore you. But,” he
+hesitated for a second, “you won’t mind my saying that it is
+simply desperately private. No hint of it must get out.”</p>
+
+<p>Her face clouded.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I don’t want to hear it if it’s a
+secret. It doesn’t concern me anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but it does—now,” Cheyne protested. “If I don’t
+tell you now you will think that I am a criminal with
+something to hide, and I think I couldn’t bear that.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she contradicted, “you think that you are in my
+debt and bound to tell me.”</p>
+
+<p>He laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Not at all,” he retorted, “since contradiction is the
+order of the day. If that was it I could easily have put you
+off with the yarn I told the doctor. I want to tell you
+because I think you’d be interested, and because it really
+would be such a relief to discuss the thing with some
+rational being.”</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him keenly as she demanded: “Honor
+bright?”</p>
+
+<p>“Honor bright,” he repeated, meeting her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Then you may,” she decided. “You may also smoke a
+pipe if you like.”</p>
+
+<p>“The story opens about six weeks ago with a visit to
+Plymouth,” he began, and he told her of his adventure in
+the Edgecombe Hotel, of the message about the burglary,
+of his ride home and what he found there, and of the
+despondent detective and his failure to discover the
+criminals. Then he described what took place on the
+launch <i>Enid</i>, his search of the coast towns and discovery
+of the trail of the men, his following them to London and
+to the Hopefield Avenue house, his adventure therein, the
+blow on his head, his coming to himself to find the tracing
+gone, his crawl to the fence and his relief at the sound of
+her footsteps approaching.</p>
+
+<p>She listened with an ever-increasing eagerness, which
+rose to positive excitement as he reached the climax of
+the story.</p>
+
+<p>“My word!” she cried with shining eyes when he had
+finished. “To think of such things happening here in sober
+old London in the twentieth century! Why, it’s like
+the <i>Arabian Nights</i>! Who would believe such a story if they
+read it in a book? <em>What</em> fun! And you have no idea what
+the tracing was?”</p>
+
+<p>“No more than you have, Miss Merrill.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was a cipher,” she declared breathlessly. “A cipher
+telling where there was buried treasure! Isn’t that all that
+is wanted to make it complete?”</p>
+
+<p>“Now you’re laughing at me,” he complained. “Don’t
+you really believe my story?”</p>
+
+<p>“Believe it?” she retorted. “Of course I believe it. How
+can you suggest such a thing? I think it’s perfectly
+splendid! I can’t say how splendid I think it. It <em>was</em> brave
+of you to go into that house in the way you did. I can’t
+think how you had the nerve. But now what are you going
+to do? What is the next step?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I’ve thought and thought while I was in
+that blessed hospital and I don’t see the next move. What
+would you advise?”</p>
+
+<p>“I? Oh, Mr. Cheyne, I couldn’t advise you. I’m thrilled
+more than I can say, but I don’t know enough for that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would you give up and go to the police?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never.” Her eyes flashed. “I’d go on and fight the gang.
+You’ll win yet, Mr. Cheyne. Something tells me.”</p>
+
+<p>A wild idea shot into Cheyne’s mind and he sat for a
+moment motionless. Then swayed by a sudden impulse,
+he turned to the girl and said excitedly:</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Merrill, let’s join forces. You help me.” He
+paused, then went on quickly: “Not in the actual thing,
+I mean, of course. I couldn’t allow you to get mixed up in
+what might turn out to be dangerous. But let me come
+and discuss the thing with you. It would be such a help.”</p>
+
+<p>“No!” she said, her eyes shining. “I’ll join in if you
+like—I’d love it! But only if I share the fun. I’m either in
+altogether or out altogether.”</p>
+
+<p>He stood up and faced her.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean it?” he asked seriously.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course I mean it,” she answered as she got up also.</p>
+
+<p>“Then shake hands on it!”</p>
+
+<p>Solemnly they shook hands, and so the firm of Cheyne
+and Merrill came into being.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch08">
+
+<h2>Chapter VIII. <br> A Council of War</h2>
+
+<p>Cheyne returned to his hotel that afternoon in a
+jubilant frame of mind. He had been depressed from his
+illness and his failure at the house in Hopefield Avenue
+and had come to believe he was wasting his time on a
+wild-goose chase. But now all his former enthusiasm had
+returned. Once again he was out to pit his wits against this
+mysterious gang of scoundrels, and he was all eagerness to
+be once more in the thick of the fray.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Merrill had told him something about herself
+before he had left. It appeared that she was the daughter
+of a doctor in Gloucester who had died some years
+previously. Her mother had died while she was a small
+child, and she was now alone in the world save for a sister
+who was married and living in Edinburgh. Her father had
+left her enough to live on fairly comfortably, but by
+cutting down her expenditure on board and lodging to the
+minimum she had been able to find the wherewithal
+necessary to enable her to take up seriously her hobby of
+painting. She was getting on well with that. She had not
+yet sold any pictures, but her art masters and the dealers
+to whom she had shown her work were encouraging. She
+also made a study of architectural details—moldings,
+string courses, capitals, etc.—which, having photographed
+them with her half-plate camera and flashlight apparatus,
+she worked into decorative panels and head and tail
+pieces for magazine illustration and poster work. With
+these also she was having fair success.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was enthused by the idea of this girl starting out
+thus boldly to carve, singlehanded, her career in the
+world, and he spent as much time that evening thinking
+of her pluck and of her chances of success as of the
+mysterious affair in which now they were both engaged.</p>
+
+<p>His first visit next day was to a man called Hake, whom
+he had met during the war and who was now a clerk in
+one of the departments of the Admiralty. From him he
+received definite confirmation that the whole of the Hull
+barony story was a fabrication of James Dangle’s nimble
+brain. No such diplomat as St. John Price had ever
+existed, though it was true that Arnold Price had at the
+time in question been third officer of the <i>Maurania</i>. Hake
+added a further interesting fact, though whether it was
+connected with Cheyne’s affair there was nothing to
+indicate. Price, the real Arnold Price through whom the whole
+mystery had arisen, had recently disappeared. He had left
+his ship at Bombay on a few days’ leave and had not
+returned. At least he had not returned up to the latest
+date of which Hake had heard. Cheyne begged his friend
+to let him know immediately if anything was learned as
+to Price’s fate, which the other promised to do.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon Cheyne once more climbed the ten
+flights of stairs in No. 17 Horne Terrace, but this time he
+took the ascent slowly enough to avoid having to sit down
+to recover at the top. Miss Merrill opened to his knock.
+She was painting and a girl sat on the throne, the
+original of the picture he had seen the day before. He was
+told that he might sit down and smoke so long as he kept
+perfectly quiet and did not interrupt, and for half an hour
+he lay in the big armchair watching the face on the canvas
+grow more and more like that of the model. Then a little
+clock struck four silvery chimes, Miss Merrill threw down
+her brushes and palette and said “Time!” and the model
+relaxed her position. Both girls disappeared into the
+bedroom and emerged presently, the model in outdoor garb
+and Miss Merrill without her overall. The model let
+herself out with a “Good-afternoon, Miss Merrill,” while the
+lady of the house took up the aluminum kettle and began
+to fill it.</p>
+
+<p>“Gas stove,” she said tersely.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne produced the expected plop, then stood with
+his back to the fire, watching his hostess’s preparations for
+tea. The removal of the overall had revealed a light green
+knitted jumper of what he believed was artificial silk, with
+a skirt of a darker shade of the same color. A simple dress,
+he thought, but tremendously effective. How splendidly it
+set off the red gold of her hair, and how charmingly it
+revealed the graceful lines of her slender figure! With her
+comely, pleasant face and her clear, direct eyes she looked
+one who would make a good pal.</p>
+
+<p>“Well now, and what’s the program?” she said briskly
+when tea had been disposed of.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne began to fill his pipe.</p>
+
+<p>“I scarcely know,” he said slowly. “I’m afraid I’ve not
+any cut and dried scheme to put up except that I already
+mentioned: to get into that house somehow and have a
+look around.”</p>
+
+<p>She moved nervously.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t like it,” she declared. “There are many
+objections to it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know there are, but what can you suggest?”</p>
+
+<p>“First of all there’s the actual danger,” she went on,
+continuing her own train of thought and ignoring his
+question. “These people have tried to murder you once
+already, and if they find you in their house again they’ll
+not bungle it a second time.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll take my chance of that.”</p>
+
+<p>“But have you thought that they have an easier way out
+of it than that? All they have to do is to hand you over to
+the nearest policeman on a charge of burglary. You would
+get two or three years or maybe more.”</p>
+
+<p>“They wouldn’t dare. Remember what I could tell
+about them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who would believe you? They, the picture of injured
+innocence, would deny the whole thing. You would say
+they attempted to murder you. They would ridicule the
+idea. And—there you are.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I could prove it. There was my injured head, and
+you found me at that house.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what did you yourself tell the doctor had
+happened to you? No, you wouldn’t have the ghost of a case.”</p>
+
+<p>“But Susan Dangle was at our house for several weeks.
+She could be identified.”</p>
+
+<p>“How would that help? She would of course admit being
+there, but would deny everything else. And you couldn’t
+prove anything. Why, the gang would point out that it was
+Susan’s presence at your house that had suggested the
+whole story to you.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not so sure of that,” he declared. “There would be
+a good deal of corroborative evidence on my side. And
+then there was Blessington at the hotel at Plymouth. He
+could be identified by the staff.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s true,” she admitted. “But even that wouldn’t
+help you much. He would deny having drugged you and
+you couldn’t prove he had. No, the more I think of it the
+better their position seems to be.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then, what’s the alternative?”</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head and for a moment silence reigned.
+Then she went on:</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been thinking about the gang since you told me
+the story—it’s another point, of course—but it occurs to
+me they must have had a fine old shock on the morning
+after your visit.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne looked up sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, they must have been worried to death to know
+what had happened to you. Your dead body wasn’t
+found—they’d soon have heard of it if it had been. And no
+information was given to the police about the affair—they’d
+soon have heard of that too. And you haven’t struck
+at them. Probably they’ve made inquiries at Dartmouth
+and found you haven’t gone home. They’ll absolutely be
+scared into fits to know whether you’re alive or dead, or
+what blow may not be being built up against them.
+Though they richly deserve it, I don’t envy them their
+position.”</p>
+
+<p>This was a new idea to Cheyne.</p>
+
+<p>“I hadn’t thought of that,” he returned, then he
+laughed. “Yes, it didn’t work out quite as they wanted, did
+it? But I expect they know all about me. Don’t you think
+that under the circumstances they would have gone round
+making discreet inquiries at the hospitals?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that is at least something to be done. First job:
+find out if possible if anyone asked about you at the Albert
+Edward. If that fails, same question elsewhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“Right: that’s an idea. But it is not enough.” Cheyne
+shook his head to give emphasis to his remark. “We must
+do something more. And the only thing I can think of is
+to get into that house again and see what I can find. I’ll
+risk the police.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Merrill was evidently thrilled, but not converted.</p>
+
+<p>“I shouldn’t be in too great a hurry,” she counseled.
+“How would it do if we went out there first and had a
+look around?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see that we should gain much by looking at the
+outside of the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“You never know. Let’s go as soon as it gets dark
+tonight. If we see nothing no harm is done.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was not averse to the idea of an excursion in
+the company of his new friend, and he readily agreed,
+provided Miss Merrill gave her word not to run into any
+danger.</p>
+
+<p>“I think you should put on a hat with a low brim and
+wear something with a high collar,” he suggested. “I’ll do
+the same, and in the dark we’re not likely to be noticed
+even if any of the gang are about.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Merrill pointed out that as she was unknown to
+the gang, it did not matter if her features were seen, but
+Cheyne was insistent.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t know,” he said. “We might both be seen,
+and then it would be as bad for you as for me. There’ll
+be unavoidable risks enough in this job without taking on
+any we needn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>They discussed their plans in detail, then Cheyne
+remarked: “Now that’s settled, what’s wrong with your
+coming and having a bit of dinner with me as a prelude
+to adventure?”</p>
+
+<p>“That sounds bookish. Are you keen on books? I’ll go
+and have dinner if I may pay my share, not otherwise.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne protested, but she was adamant. It appeared
+further she was a great reader, and they discussed books
+until it was time to go out. Then after dinner at an Italian
+restaurant in Soho they took the tube to Hendon and
+began to walk towards Hopefield Avenue.</p>
+
+<p>The night was chilly for mid-May, but calm and dry.
+It would soon be quite dark out of the radius of the street
+lamps, as the quarter moon had not yet risen and clouds
+obscured the light of the stars. In the main street there
+was plenty of traffic, but Hopefield Avenue was deserted
+and their footsteps rang out loudly on the pavements.</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s walk past it,” Miss Merrill suggested, “and
+perhaps we can hide and watch what goes on.”</p>
+
+<p>They did so. Laurel Lodge looked as before except that
+the lower front windows were lighted up. Building
+operations, however, had been much advanced in the six weeks
+since Cheyne’s last visit. The almost completed walls of a
+house stood on the next lot, and the house in which the
+supposed dead body of Cheyne had been abandoned was
+practically complete.</p>
+
+<p>“Half-finished houses are the stunt in this game,”
+Cheyne observed. “Suppose we go back to that next door
+to our friends and see from there if anything happens.”</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later they had passed along the lane at the
+back of the houses and taken up their positions in what
+was evidently to be the hall of the new house. A small
+window looked out from its side, not forty feet from the
+hall door of Laurel Lodge. Cheyne made a seat of a plank
+laid across two little heaps of bricks and they sat down
+and waited.</p>
+
+<p>They were so ignorant as to the steps usually taken by a
+detective in such a situation that their idea of watching
+the house was simply adopted in the Micawberish hope
+that somehow something might turn up to help them.
+What that something might be they had no idea. But with
+the extraordinary luck which so often seems reserved for
+those who blindly plunge, they had not waited ten
+minutes before they received some really important information.</p>
+
+<p>The unconscious agent was a postman. They saw him
+first pass near a lamp farther down the street, and then
+watched him gradually approach, calling in one house
+after another. Presently he reached the gate of Laurel
+Lodge, and opening it, passed inside.</p>
+
+<p>From where they sat, the watchers, being in line with
+the front of the house, were not actually in sight of the
+hall door. But there was a heap of building material in
+front of their hiding place and Cheyne, slipping
+hurriedly out, crouched behind the pile in such a position
+that he could see what might take place.</p>
+
+<p>In due course the postman reached the door, but instead
+of delivering his letters and retreating, he knocked and
+stood waiting. The door was opened by a woman, and her
+silhouette against the lighted interior showed she was not
+Susan Dangle. The woman was short, stout and elderly.</p>
+
+<p>“Evening, ma’am,” Cheyne heard the man say. “A
+parcel for you.”</p>
+
+<p>The woman thanked him and closed the door, while the
+postman crossed to a house on the opposite side of the
+street. As soon as his back was turned Cheyne left his
+hiding-place, and was strolling along the road when the
+postman again stepped on to the footpath.</p>
+
+<p>“Good-evening, postman,” said Cheyne. “I’m looking
+for people called Dangle somewhere about here. Could
+you tell me where they live?”</p>
+
+<p>The postman stopped and answered civilly:</p>
+
+<p>“They’ve left here, sir, or at least there were people of
+that name here till a few weeks ago. They lived over
+there.” He pointed to Laurel Lodge.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne made a gesture of annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>“Moved; have they? Then I’ve missed them. I suppose
+you couldn’t tell me where they’ve gone?”</p>
+
+<p>The postman shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Sorry, sir, but I couldn’t. If you was to go to the post
+office in Hendon they might know. But I couldn’t say
+nothing about it.”</p>
+
+<p>Nor could the postman remember the exact date of the
+Dangles’ departure. It was five or six weeks since or
+maybe more, but he couldn’t say for sure.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne returned to Miss Merrill with his news. A sudden
+flitting on the Dangles’ part seemed indicated, born
+doubtless of panic at the disappearance of the supposed
+corpse, and if this was the cause of their move, no
+applications at the post office or elsewhere would bear fruit.</p>
+
+<p>“We should have foreseen this,” Cheyne declared
+gloomily. “If you think of it, to make themselves scarce
+was about the only thing they could do. If I was alive
+and conscious they couldn’t tell how soon they might have
+a visit from the police.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we’ve got to find them,” his companion
+answered. “I’ll begin by making inquiries at the house. No,”
+as Cheyne demurred, “it’s my turn. You stay here and
+listen.”</p>
+
+<p>She slipped out on to the road, and passing through the
+gate of Laurel Lodge, rang the bell. The same elderly
+woman came to the door and Miss Merrill asked if Miss
+Dangle was at home.</p>
+
+<p>The woman was communicative if not illuminating.
+No one called Dangle lived in the house, though she
+understood her predecessors had borne that name. She and her
+son had moved in only three weeks before, and they
+had only taken the house a fortnight before that. She did
+not know anything of the Dangles. Oh, no, she had not
+taken the house furnished. She had brought her own
+furniture with her. Indeed yes, moving was a horrible business
+and so expensive.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s something about the furniture,” Miss Merrill
+said, when breathless and triumphant she had rejoined
+Cheyne. “If they took their furniture we have only to find
+out who moved it for them. Then we can find where it
+was taken.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the ticket,” Cheyne declared admiringly. “But
+how on earth are we going to find the removers? Have
+you any ideas?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Merrill looked at him quizzically.</p>
+
+<p>“Just full of ’em,” she smiled, “and to prove it I’ll make
+you a bet. I’ll bet you the price of our next dinner that I
+have the information inside half an hour. What time is
+it? Half-past nine. Very well: before ten o’clock. But the
+information may cost you anything up to a pound. Are
+you on?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course I’m on,” Cheyne returned heartily, though
+in reality he was not too pleased by the trend of affairs.
+“Do you want the pound now?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I have it. But whatever the information costs me
+you may pay. Now <i>au revoir</i> until ten o’clock.”</p>
+
+<p>She glided away before Cheyne could reply, and for
+some minutes he sat alone in the half-built porch
+wondering what she was doing and wishing he could smoke. It
+was cold sitting still in the current of chilly air which
+poured through the gaping brickwork. He felt tired and
+despondent, and realized against his will that he had been
+severely shaken by his experiences and was by no means as
+yet completely recovered. If it was not for this splendid girl
+he would have been strongly tempted to throw up the
+sponge, and he thought with longing of the deep armchairs
+in the smoking room at the hotel, or better still, in
+Miss Merrill’s studio.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he saw her. She was crossing the street in front
+of Laurel Lodge. She was directly in the light of a lamp
+and he could not but admire her graceful carriage and the
+dainty way in which she tripped along.</p>
+
+<p>She pushed open the gate of a house directly opposite
+and disappeared into the shadow behind its encircling
+hedge. In a moment she was out again and had entered
+the gate of the next house. There she remained for some
+time; indeed the hands on the luminous dial of Cheyne’s
+watch showed three minutes to the hour before she
+reappeared. She recrossed the road and presently Cheyne
+heard her whisper: “That was a near squeak for my
+dinner! It’s not after ten, is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Half a minute before,” breathed Cheyne, continuing
+eagerly: “Well, what luck?”</p>
+
+<p>“Watterson &amp; Swayne. Vans came the day after your
+adventure.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne whistled below his breath.</p>
+
+<p>“My word!” he whispered, “but you’re simply It! How
+in all this earthly world did you find that out?”</p>
+
+<p>She chuckled delightedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Easy as winking,” she declared. “Got it fifth shot. I
+called at five of the houses overlooking the Laurel gate,
+and pretended to be a woman detective after the Dangles.
+I was mysterious about the crimes they had committed and
+got the servants interested. There were servants at three
+of the houses—the others I let alone. I offered the
+servants five shillings for the name of the vans which had
+come to take the stuff, and the third girl remembered. I
+gave her the five shillings and told her I was good for
+another five if she could tell me the date of the moving,
+and after some time she was able to fix it. She remembered
+she had seen the vans on the day of a party at her sister’s,
+and she found the date of that from an old letter.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good for you! I say, Miss Merrill, if you’re going to
+carry on like this we shall soon have all we want. What’s
+the next step now? Inquiries at Watterson &amp; Swayne’s?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she said decidedly, “the next step for you is bed.
+You’re not really well enough yet for this sort of thing.
+We’ve done enough for tonight. We’ll go home.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne protested, but as, apart from his health, it was
+obvious that inquiries could not at that hour be instituted
+at the furniture removers, he had to agree.</p>
+
+<p>“I shall go round and see them tomorrow morning,”
+he remarked as they walked back along Hopefield Avenue.
+“I suppose you couldn’t manage to come at that time? Or
+shall I wait until the afternoon?”</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>“Neither,” she answered. “I shall be busy all day and
+you must just carry on.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne felt a surprisingly keen disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>“But mayn’t I come and report progress in the
+afternoon?” he begged.</p>
+
+<p>“Not until after four. I shall be painting up till then.”</p>
+
+<p>He wanted to see her home, but this she would not hear
+of, and soon he was occupying one of these deep chairs in
+the hotel smoking room whose allure had seemed so strong
+to him in the draughty porch of the half-built house. As
+he sat he thought over the turn which this evening’s inquiry
+had given to the affair in which he was engaged. It was
+clear enough now that Miss Merrill’s view had been
+correct and that the Dangles were scared stiff by the absence
+of information about the finding of his body. As he put
+himself in their place, he saw that flight was indeed their
+only course. What he marveled at was that they should
+have taken time to remove their furniture. From their
+point of view it must have been a horrible risk, and it
+undoubtedly left, through the carrying contractor, a
+certain clue to their whereabouts.</p>
+
+<p>But when Cheyne began his inquiries on the following
+morning he rapidly became less impressed with the
+certainty of the clue. A direct request at the firm’s office for
+Dangle’s address was met by a polite <i>non possumus</i>, and
+when during the dinner hour Cheyne succeeded in
+bribing a junior clerk to let him have the information, at a
+further interview the lad declared he could not find it. It
+was not until after five hours’ inquiry among the drivers
+of the various vans which entered and left the yard that
+he learned anything, and even then he found himself no
+further on. The furniture, which had been collected from
+an unoccupied house, had been stored and still remained
+in Messrs. Watterson &amp; Swayne’s warehouses.</p>
+
+<p>It was a weary and disgruntled Cheyne who at six
+o’clock that evening dragged himself up the ten flights to
+Miss Merrill’s room. But when he was seated in her big
+armchair with his pipe going and had consumed a whisky
+and soda which she had poured out for him he began to
+feel that all was not necessarily lost and that life had
+compensations for failures in the role of amateur detective.</p>
+
+<p>She listened carefully to his tale of woe, finally dropping
+a word of sympathy with his disappointment and of praise
+for his efforts which left him thinking she was certainly
+the good pal he expected her to be.</p>
+
+<p>“But that’s not the worst,” he went on gloomily. “It’s
+bad enough that I have failed today, but it’s a great deal
+worse that I don’t know how I am going to do any
+better. Those Watterson &amp; Swayne people simply <em>won’t</em> give
+away any information, and I don’t see how else it’s to be
+got.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s not much to go on certainly,” she admitted.
+“That’s where the police have the pull. They could go into
+that office and demand the Dangles’ address. You can’t.
+What about the others, that Sime and that Blessington?
+Could you trace them in any way?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne moved lazily in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see how,” he answered slowly. “We have little
+enough information about the Dangles, but there is less
+still about the others. We have practically nothing to go
+on. I wonder what a real detective would do in such a
+case. I feel perfectly certain he would find all four in a
+few hours.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ha! That gives me an idea.” She sat up and looked
+at him eagerly, and then in answer to his question went
+on: “What about that detective who was already engaged
+on the case, the one the manager of the Plymouth hotel
+recommended? Why not get hold of him and see what he
+can do? He was a private detective, wasn’t he—not
+connected with the police?”</p>
+
+<p>“He was, and I have his name and address. By Jove,
+Miss Merrill, it’s an idea! I’ll go round and see him in
+the morning. He’s a man I didn’t take to personally, but
+what does that matter if he’s good at his job?”</p>
+
+<p>Though Cheyne thus enthusiastically received his
+companion’s suggestion, he was not greatly enamored of the
+idea. As he said, he had not liked the man personally, and
+he would have preferred to have kept the affair in his own
+hands. But he felt bankrupt of ideas for carrying on the
+inquiry, and if a professional was to be brought in, this
+man whom he knew and who was vouched for by the
+manager of the Edgecombe should be as good as another.
+He decided, however, that he would not employ the fellow
+on the case as a whole. His job should be to find the
+quartet, and if and when he did that he could be paid his
+money and sent about his business. Cheyne felt that at
+this stage at all events he was not going to share the secret
+of the linen tracing.</p>
+
+<p>But Cheyne, like many another before him, was to
+learn the difficulties which beset the path of him who
+makes half confidences.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch09">
+
+<h2>Chapter IX. <br> Mr. Speedwell Plays His Hand</h2>
+
+<p>Next morning Cheyne called at the offices of Messrs.
+Horton &amp; Lavender’s Private Detective Agency and asked
+if their Mr. Speedwell was within. By good fortune Mr.
+Speedwell was, and a few seconds later Cheyne was
+ushered into the room of the quiet, despondent-looking
+man whom he had interviewed at Warren Lodge nearly
+two months earlier.</p>
+
+<p>“Glad to see you’re better, sir,” the detective greeted
+him. “I was expecting you would look in one of these
+days. You had my letter?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Cheyne, considerably surprised, “and I
+should like to know why you were expecting me and how
+you know I was ill.”</p>
+
+<p>The man smiled deprecatingly.</p>
+
+<p>“If I was really up to my job I suppose I’d tell you that
+detectives knew everything, or at least that I did, but I
+never make any mystery between friends, leastwise when
+there isn’t any. I knew you were ill because I was down
+at Warren Lodge a month ago looking for you and Miss
+Cheyne told me, and I was expecting you to call because
+I wrote asking you to do so. However, if you didn’t get
+my letter, why then it seems to me I owe the pleasure of
+this visit to something else.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re quite right,” said Cheyne. “You do. But before
+we get on to that, tell me what you called and wrote
+about.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll do so, sir. I called because I had got some
+information for you, and when I didn’t see you I wrote for the
+same reason asking you to look in here.”</p>
+
+<p>The man spoke civilly and directly, but yet there was
+something about him which rubbed Cheyne up the wrong
+way—something furtive in his manner, by which
+instinctively the other was repelled. It was therefore with rather
+less than his usual good-natured courtesy that Cheyne
+returned: “Well, here I am then. What is your information?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell you, sir. But first let me recall to your mind
+what I—acting for my firm—was asked to find out.” He
+stressed the words “acting for my firm,” and as he did so
+shot a keen questioning glance at Cheyne. The latter did
+not reply, and Speedwell, after pausing for a moment,
+went on:</p>
+
+<p>“I was employed—or rather my firm was employed”—what
+his point was Cheyne could not see, but he was
+evidently making one—“my firm was employed by the
+manager of the Edgecombe Hotel to investigate a case of
+alleged drugging which had taken place in the hotel. That
+was all, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“That or matters arising therefrom,” Cheyne replied
+cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>The detective smiled foxily.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, I see you have taken my meaning, Mr. Cheyne.
+That or matters arising directly therefrom. That, sir, is
+quite correct. Now, I have found out something about
+that. Not much, I admit, but still something. Though
+whether it is as much as you already are cognizant of is
+another matter.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne felt his temper giving way.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here,” he said sharply. “What are you getting at?
+I can’t spend the day here. If you’ve anything to say, for
+goodness’ sake get along and say it and have done with
+this beating about the bush.”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell made a deprecating gesture.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, sir; as you will. But”—he gave a dry smile—“have
+you not overlooked the fact that you called in to
+consult me?”</p>
+
+<p>“I shall not do it now,” Cheyne said angrily. “Give me
+the information that you’re being paid for and that will
+complete our business.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, but with the utmost respect that will only begin
+it. I’ll give you the information right away, but first I’d
+like to come to an understanding about this other business.”</p>
+
+<p>“What under the sun are you talking about? What
+other business?”</p>
+
+<p>“The breaking and entering.” Speedwell spoke now in
+a decisive, businesslike tone. “The breaking and entering
+of a house in Hopefield Avenue—Laurel Lodge, let us call
+it—on an evening just six weeks ago—on the fifth of
+April to be exact. I should really say the burglary,
+because there was also the theft of an important
+document. The owners of that document would be glad of
+information which would lead to the arrest of the thief.”</p>
+
+<p>This astounding statement, made in the calm matter-of-fact
+way in which the man was now speaking, took
+Cheyne completely aback. For a moment he hesitated. His
+character was direct and straightforward, but for the
+space of two seconds he was tempted to prevaricate, to
+admit no knowledge of the incidents referred to. Then his
+hot temper swept away all considerations of what might
+or might not be prudent, and he burst out: “Well, Mr.
+Speedwell, what of it? If you are so well informed as you
+pretend, you’ll be aware that the parties lost no document
+on that night. I don’t know what you’re after, but it looks
+uncommonly like an attempt at blackmail.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Speedwell seemed pained at the suggestion. He
+assured Cheyne that his remarks had been misinterpreted,
+and deprecated the fact that such an unpleasant word had
+been brought into the discussion. “All the same,” he
+concluded meaningly, “I am glad to have your assurance that
+the document in question was not stolen from the house.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was not only mystified, but a trifle uneasy. He
+saw now that he had been maneuvered into a practical
+admission that he had committed burglary, and there was
+something in the way the detective had made his last
+remark that seemed vaguely sinister.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what business of yours is it?” he said brusquely.
+“What do you hope to get out of it?”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell nodded as he looked at the other out of his
+close-set furtive eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, sir,” he answered approvingly, “that’s what I
+like. That’s coming to business, that is. I thought perhaps
+I could be of service to you, that’s all. Here are these
+parties looking for you to make a prosecution for burglary,
+and here you are looking for them for a paper they have.
+And here am I,” his face was inexpressibly sly, “in a
+position to help either party, as you might say. There’s an old
+saying, sir, that knowledge is power, and many a time I’ve
+thought it’s a true one.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you want to sell your knowledge?”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it reasonable, <em>and</em> natural? It’s my business to get
+knowledge, and I have to work hard to get it too. You
+wouldn’t have me give away the fruits of my work? It’s
+all I have to live by.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your knowledge belongs to your firm.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, not in this case it doesn’t. All this work was
+done in my own time; it was my hobby, so to speak.
+Besides, my firm didn’t ask for the information and doesn’t
+want it.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you want for it?”</p>
+
+<p>A momentary gleam appeared in Mr. Speedwell’s eyes,
+but he replied quietly and without emotion: “Two
+hundred pounds. Two hundred pounds and you shall hear all
+I know, and have my best help in whatever you want to
+do into the bargain. And in that case I won’t be able to
+tell the other parties where you are to be found, so being
+as their question was addressed to me and not to my firm.”</p>
+
+<p>“Two hundred pounds!” Cheyne cried. “I’ll see you far
+enough first. Confound your impertinence!” His anger
+rose and he almost choked. “Don’t you imagine you are
+going to blackmail me! But I’ll tell you what I am going
+to do. I’m going right in now to the head of your firm to
+let him know the way you conduct his business. Two
+hundred pounds. I don’t think!”</p>
+
+<p>He flung himself out of the room and called the girl in
+the outer office.</p>
+
+<p>“I want to see the principal of the firm,” he shouted.
+“It’s important. Either Mr. Horton or Mr. Lavender will
+do. As soon as possible, please.”</p>
+
+<p>The girl seemed half startled and half amused. “<em>Who</em>
+did you want to see?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Horton or Mr. Lavender,” Cheyne repeated
+firmly, fixing her with a wrathful stare.</p>
+
+<p>“I—I’m afraid I don’t know where they are,” she
+stammered, the corners of her mouth twitching. Yes, she <em>was</em>
+laughing at him. Confound her impertinence also!</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t know?” he shouted furiously. “When will
+they be in?”</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked scared, then her amusement evidently
+overcame her apprehension and she giggled.</p>
+
+<p>“Not today, I’m afraid,” she answered. “You see Mr.
+Horton has been dead over ten years and Mr. Lavender at
+least five.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne glared at her as he asked thickly:</p>
+
+<p>“Then who is the present principal?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Speedwell.”</p>
+
+<p>“Damn,” said Cheyne: then as he looked at the smiling
+face of the pretty clerk he suddenly felt ashamed of
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sure I beg your pardon,” he said, and as he saw
+how neatly he had got his desserts he laughed ruefully
+himself. This confounded temper of his, he thought, was
+always putting him into the wrong. He was just
+determining for the thousandth time that he would be more
+careful not to give way to it in future when Mr.
+Speedwell’s melancholy voice fell on his ears.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, that is better, sir. Won’t you come back and let
+us resume our discussion?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne re-entered the private room.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he said, “but really your
+proposition was so very—I may say, amazing, that it upset
+me. Of course you were not serious in what you said?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Speedwell leaned forward and became the
+personification of suave amiability.</p>
+
+<p>“I sell my wares in the best market, Mr. Cheyne,” he
+declared. “You couldn’t blame me for that; it’s only
+business. But I don’t want to drive a hard bargain with you.
+I would rather have an amicable settlement. I’m always
+one for peace and goodwill. An amicable settlement, sir;
+that’s what I suggest.” He beamed on Cheyne and rubbed
+his hands genially together.</p>
+
+<p>“If you have information which would be useful to me
+I am prepared to pay its full value. As a matter of fact I
+called for that purpose. But you couldn’t have any worth
+two hundred pounds or anything like it.”</p>
+
+<p>“No? Well, just what do you want to know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Dangle’s address.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can give you that. Anything else?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne hesitated. Should he ask for all the information
+he could get about the sinister quartet and their mysterious
+activities? He had practically admitted the burglary.
+Should he not make the most of his opportunity? In for a
+penny, in for a pound.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever hear of a man called Sime?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course, sir. Number Three of the quartet.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should like his address also.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can give it to you. And Blessington’s?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Blessington’s too.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was amazed by the knowledge of this Speedwell.
+He would give a good deal to find out how he had
+obtained it.</p>
+
+<p>“What are the businesses of these men?”</p>
+
+<p>“That,” said Mr. Speedwell, “is three questions. First:
+What is Dangle’s business? Second: What is Sime’s
+business? Third: What is Blessington’s business? Yes, sir, I
+can answer these questions also.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you find all that out?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Speedwell smiled and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“There, sir, you have me. I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.
+You see, if we professional detectives were to give away
+our little methods to you amateur gentlemen we should
+soon be out of business. You, sir, will appreciate the
+position. It would be parting with our capital, and no business
+man can afford to do that. Anything else, Mr. Cheyne?”</p>
+
+<p>“You mentioned a paper?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir?”</p>
+
+<p>“Where is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“That I can answer partially.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is it about?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, then there is something you do not know. What is
+the enterprise these men are going into in connection with
+the paper?”</p>
+
+<p>“That, Mr. Cheyne, I do not know either. You see I
+am perfectly open with you. I have been conducting a
+sort of desultory inquiry into these men’s affairs, partly
+because I was interested, partly because I thought I could
+turn my information into money. I have reached the point
+indicated in my answers. I can proceed with the
+investigation and learn the rest of what you wish to know,
+assuming of course that we come to suitable terms. You
+can have the information I have already gained now, with
+of course the same proviso.”</p>
+
+<p>“What are your terms?”</p>
+
+<p>“Twenty pounds a question. You have asked six questions
+to which I can give complete answers and one which
+I can answer partially; say six twenties and one
+ten—total, one hundred and thirty pounds.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it’s iniquitous, scandalous, extortionate! I shouldn’t
+think of paying such a sum.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir? That’s a matter for yourself alone. It seems to
+me, then, that our business is completed.” The man
+paused, then as Cheyne made no move continued
+confidentially. “You see, sir, I needn’t tell a gentleman like
+yourself that value is relative and not absolute. If I hadn’t
+another party willing to pay for my information about you
+I couldn’t perhaps afford to refuse what you might be
+pleased to offer. But if I don’t get my hundred and thirty
+from you I’ll get it from the other party. It’s a matter of
+£. s. d. for me.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how do I know you won’t get my hundred and
+thirty and then go to the other party for his?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Speedwell smiled craftily.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t know, sir. In these matters one person has
+to take the other’s word. You pay your money and you get
+the information you ask for. You don’t pay and I keep it.
+It’s for you to say what you’ll do.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne sat in thought. It was evident this man could
+give him valuable information, and he was well aware
+that if he had employed him to obtain it it might easily
+have cost him more than the sum asked. He did not doubt,
+either, that the quartet had asked for information about
+himself. When his dead body had not been found it would
+have been a likely move. But he was surprised that they
+should have asked under their own names. But then again,
+they mightn’t have. Speedwell might have found these out.
+It was certainly an extraordinary coincidence that himself
+and the gang should have consulted the same private
+detective, though of course there was nothing inherently
+impossible in it.</p>
+
+<p>On the whole he felt disposed to pay the money. He was
+comfortably enough off and he would scarcely feel it. The
+payment would not commit him to anything or put him
+in any way in the power of this detective. Moreover, the
+man was evidently skillful at his job and it might be useful
+enough to have him on his side. And last, but not least,
+after his failure of the day before it would be a pleasure to
+go back to Miss Merrill and tell her how well he had
+succeeded on this occasion.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here,” he said. “I don’t think you can expect me
+to believe that these people came and asked you to find
+the burglar who had made off with their confidential
+paper, so that they might prosecute. That’s rather tall, you
+know. Why didn’t they go direct to the police?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m only telling you what they said. I’m not saying I
+believed it was really what they wanted.” Speedwell
+paused. “As a matter of fact I don’t mind telling you what
+I think,” he went on presently. “I believe they are scared
+about you, and they want to find you to finish up the job
+they bungled. That’s what I think, but I may be wrong.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if I pay you your hundred and thirty you’ll give
+me your pledge not to give them the information?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Speedwell looked pained.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think I said that, sir. It was two hundred that
+was mentioned. But see here. I don’t want to be grasping.
+If you make it the even hundred and fifty I’ll answer your
+questions and not theirs. Is it a bargain, sir?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Cheyne. “I have my check-book here and
+I’ll fill you in a check for the money as soon as I get your
+replies.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Speedwell beamed.</p>
+
+<p>“Excellent, sir. An amicable settlement. That’s what I
+like. Well, sir, I can trust you to keep your word. Here
+are the answers to your questions.” He took a bulky
+notebook from his pocket and continued:</p>
+
+<p>“First question, Dangle’s present address: Earlswood,
+Dalton Avenue, Wembley.” He waited while Cheyne
+wrote the address, then went on: “Second question,
+Sime’s present address: 12 Colton Street, Putney.” Again
+a pause and then: “Third question, Blessington’s present
+address: Earlswood, Dalton Av—”</p>
+
+<p>“The same as Dangle’s?”</p>
+
+<p>“The same as Dangle’s, or rather, to be strictly accurate,
+Dangle’s is the same as Blessington’s. Blessington lives at
+this place and has for several years; Dangle joined him
+about six weeks ago, to be precise, on the day after the
+incident which I have just forgotten.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne nodded with a rueful smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then, these men’s occupations?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Speedwell was not to be hurried.</p>
+
+<p>“Fourth question,” he proceeded methodically, “Dangle’s
+occupation. Dangle, Mr. Cheyne, is just an ordinary
+town sharp. He has a bit of money and adds to it in the
+usual ways. He’s in with a cardsharping gang and helps
+them in their stunts—for a consideration. He frequents a
+West End gaming room, and if there is any fat pigeon
+around he’ll lend a hand in the plucking. The sister helps
+as a decoy. They’re a warm pair and I should think are
+watched by the police. They’ll not want their dealings with
+you to come into the limelight anyway, so you’ve a pull
+over them there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Has Dangle no ostensible profession?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not that I know of, unless you call billiard playing a
+profession.”</p>
+
+<p>“You might give me the address of the gaming rooms.”</p>
+
+<p>“27 Greenway Lane, Knightsbridge.”</p>
+
+<p>“What about Sime?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sime is another of the same kidney. He does the night
+club end and brings likely mugs on to the gaming rooms.
+A plausible ruffian, Sime. A man without scruple and bad
+to be up against. He has no ostensible business, either.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Blessington?”</p>
+
+<p>“Blessington is, in my opinion, the worst of the three.
+He has ten times the brains of the other two put together
+and is an out and out scoundrel. He’s well enough off in
+a small way and is supposed to have made his money by
+systematic blackmail. He’s supplying the cash for this little
+do of yours, whatever it may be. He is believed at Wembley
+to be something in the city, but I don’t think he has any
+job. Lives on the interest of his money, I should think.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne noted the replies, marveling how the detective
+had come to learn so much. Then he asked his seventh
+question.</p>
+
+<p>“Where is the paper?”</p>
+
+<p>“That, sir, I can only answer partially. It is, or was up
+till quite lately, in Blessington’s possession. Whether he
+carries it about with him or keeps it in his house or in his
+bank I don’t know. He may even have lent it to one of the
+others, but he is the chief of the enterprise and it appears
+to belong to him.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all right,” Cheyne admitted. “Now what were
+you going to tell me apart from these questions—the
+information you wrote about?”</p>
+
+<p>“Simply, sir, that the man who drugged you in the
+Edgecombe Hotel in Plymouth was named Stewart
+Blessington, that he lived at Wembley, and that he drugged
+you in order to ascertain if you carried on your person a
+certain paper of which he was in search.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t tell me how he did it?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir. Some simple trick of course, but I had no
+chance to find it out. I might perhaps suggest that he had
+two similar flasks, one innocent and the other drugged,
+and that he changed them by sleight of hand while
+attracting your attention elsewhere.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne shook his head. He had thought of this
+explanation before, but it was not satisfactory. He had been
+watching the man and he was satisfied he had not played
+any such trick. Besides, this would not explain why no
+trace of a drug was found in the food. Speedwell,
+however, could make no further suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne put away his notebook.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s another thing I should like to know,” he said,
+“and that is how you have learned all this. I suppose you
+won’t tell me?”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell smiled as he shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Some day, sir, when the case is over. You see, if I were
+to show you my channels of information you would
+naturally use them yourself, and then where should I come
+in? A man in my job soon learns where to pick up a bit
+of knowledge. It’s partly practice and partly knowing the
+ropes.”</p>
+
+<p>“And there’s another thing I wish,” Cheyne went on as
+if he had not heard the other, “and that is that you had
+gone a bit further in your researches and learned what
+that paper was and what game that gang is up to.”</p>
+
+<p>The detective’s manner became more eager.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what I was coming to myself, Mr. Cheyne. If
+you want that information I can get it for you. But it may
+cost you a bit of money. It would depend on the time I
+should have to spend on it and the risks I should have to
+run. If you would like me to take it on for you I could
+do so. But of course it’s a matter for yourself altogether.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne reflected. This Speedwell had certainly done an
+amazing amount of work already on the case, and his
+success so far showed that he was a shrewd and capable
+man. To engage him to complete the work would probably
+be the quickest way of bringing the matter to a head,
+and the easiest, so far as he himself was concerned. But
+then he would lose all the excitement and the fun. He had
+pitted his wits against these men, and to hand the affair
+over to Speedwell would be to confess himself beaten.
+Moreover, he would have to admit his failure to Miss
+Merrill and to forego any more alarms and excursions
+in her company. No, he would keep the thing in his own
+hands for the present at all events.</p>
+
+<p>He therefore said that he was obliged for the other’s
+offer, which later on he might be glad to accept, but that
+for the moment he would not make any further move.</p>
+
+<p>“Right, sir. Whatever you say,” Speedwell agreed
+amicably. “I might add what indeed you’ll be able to
+guess for yourself from what I’ve told you, that this crowd
+is a pretty shrewd crowd, and they’ll not, so to speak, be
+beating the air in this job of yours. They’re going for
+something, and you may take it from me that something
+will be worth their going for. At least, if not, I’ll eat my
+hat.”</p>
+
+<p>“I quite agree with you,” Cheyne returned, fumbling
+in his pocket. “It now remains for me to write my check
+and then we shall be square.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne counted the hours until four o’clock, and as
+soon as he dared he set off for No. 17 Horne Terrace.
+Indeed, he timed his visit so well that as he reached the top
+of the tenth flight of steps, the door of room No. 12 opened
+and the model emerged. She held the door open for him,
+and ten minutes later he was seated in the big armchair
+drinking the usual cup of fragrant China tea.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Merrill listened with close attention to his story,
+but she was not so enthusiastic at his success as he could
+have wished. She made no comment until he had finished
+and then her remark was, if anything, disparaging.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t quite like it, you know,” she said slowly. “From
+your description of him it certainly looks as if that
+detective was playing a game of his own. It doesn’t sound
+straight. Do you think you can trust him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not as far as I can see him, but how can I help
+myself? I expect the addresses he gave are all correct, but I’m
+not at all satisfied that he won’t go straight to the gang
+and tell them he has found me and get their money for
+that.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you think you wouldn’t be wiser to back out
+yourself and instruct him to carry on for you?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne sat up and took his pipe out of his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m damned if I will,” he declared hotly. “It might be
+a lot wiser and all that, but I’m just not going to.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re quite sure? I couldn’t persuade you?” she went
+on demurely, without looking at him.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t imagine you trying, Miss Merrill. But in any
+case I’m going on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good!” she cried, and her eyes lit up as she smiled at
+him. “You’re quite mad, but I sometimes like mad people.
+Then if, in spite of all I can say, you’re going on, what
+about a visit to Wembley tonight?”</p>
+
+<p>“The very ticket!” Cheyne was swept by a wave of
+delight and enthusiasm. “It is jolly of you to suggest it.
+And you will come out to dinner and I may pay my bet!”</p>
+
+<p>“As it’s a bet—all right. But you must go away now.
+I have some things to attend to. I’ll meet you when and
+where you say.”</p>
+
+<p>“What about the Trocadero at seven? A leisurely dinner
+and then we for Wembley?”</p>
+
+<p>“Right-o,” she laughed and vanished into the other
+room, while Cheyne, full of an eager excitement, went off
+to telephone orders to the restaurant as to the reservation
+of places.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch10">
+
+<h2>Chapter X. <br> The New Firm Gets Busy</h2>
+
+<p>Cheyne and Joan Merrill took a Wembley Park train
+from Baker Street shortly before nine that evening, and a
+few minutes later alighted at the station whose name was
+afterwards to become a household word throughout the
+length and breadth of the British Empire. But at that time
+the Exhibition was not yet thought of, and the ground,
+which was later to hum with scores of thousands of visitors
+from all parts of the world, was now a dark and deserted
+plain.</p>
+
+<p>When the young people left the station and began to
+look around them, they found that they had reached the
+actual fringe of the metropolis. Towards London were the
+last outlying rows of detached and semidetached houses
+of the standard suburban type. In the opposite direction,
+towards Harrow, was the darkness of open country. Judging
+by the number of lights that were visible, this country
+was extraordinarily sparsely inhabited.</p>
+
+<p>Guarded inquiries from the railway officials had evoked
+the information that Dalton Road lay some ten minutes’
+walk from the station in a northeasterly direction, and
+thither the two set off. They passed along with
+circumspection, keeping as far as possible from the street lamps
+and with their coat collars turned up and the brims of
+their hats pulled down over their eyes. But the place was
+deserted. During the whole of their walk they met only
+one person—a man going evidently to the station, and he
+strode past with barely a glance.</p>
+
+<p>Dalton Road proved, save for its street lamps and
+footpath, to be little more than a lane. It led somewhat
+windingly in an easterly direction off the main road. The
+country at this point was more thickly populated and there was
+quite a number of houses in view. All were built in the
+style of forty years ago, and were nearly all detached,
+standing in small grounds or lots. Here and there were
+fine old trees which looked as if they must have been in
+existence long before the houses, and most of the lots were
+well supplied with shrubs and with high and thick
+partition hedges.</p>
+
+<p>Nearly all the gates bore names, and as the two young
+people walked along, they had no difficulty in identifying
+Earlswood. There was a lamp at the other side of the road
+which enabled them to read the white letters on their
+green ground. Without pausing they glanced around,
+noting what they could of their surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>A narrow lane running north and south intersected
+Dalton Road at this point, and in each of the four angles
+were houses. That in the southwest corner was undergoing
+extension, the side next the lane showing scaffolding
+and half-built brick walls. The two adjoining corners were
+occupied by houses which presented no interesting
+features, and in the fourth corner, diagonally opposite that of
+the building operations, stood Earlswood. All four houses
+were surrounded by unusually large lots containing plenty
+of trees. Earlswood was particularly secluded, the hall door
+being almost hidden from both road and lane by hedges
+and shrubs.</p>
+
+<p>“Lucky it’s got all those trees about it,” Cheyne
+whispered as they passed on down Dalton Road. “If we have
+to burgle it we can do it without being overlooked by the
+neighbors.”</p>
+
+<p>They continued on their way until they found that
+Dalton Road debouched on a wide thoroughfare which
+inquiries showed was Watling Street, the main road
+between London and St. Albans. Then retracing their
+steps to Earlswood, they followed the cross lane, first south,
+which brought them back to Wembley, and north, which
+after about a mile brought them out on the Harrow Road.
+Having thus learned the lie of the land so as to know
+where to head in case a sudden flight became necessary,
+they returned once more to Earlswood to attempt a closer
+examination of the house.</p>
+
+<p>They had noticed when passing along the cross lane
+beside the house to which the extension was being made
+that a gap had been broken in the hedge for the purpose
+of getting in the building materials. This was closed only
+by a wooden slat. With one consent they made for the
+gap, slipped through, and crouching in the shadow of the
+shrubs within, set themselves to watch Earlswood.</p>
+
+<p>No light showed in any of the front windows, and as
+soon as Miss Merrill was seated on a bundle of brushwood
+sheltered from the light but rather chilly wind, Cheyne
+crept out to reconnoiter more closely. Making sure that
+no one was approaching, he slipped through the hedge,
+and then crossing both road and lane diagonally, passed
+down the lane at the side of Earlswood.</p>
+
+<p>There was no gap in the Earlswood hedge, but just as
+in the case of that other similarly situated house which he
+had investigated, a narrow lane ran along at the bottom
+of the tiny garden behind. Cheyne turned into this and
+stood looking at the back of the house. The whole
+proceeding seemed familiar, a repetition of his actions on the
+night he traced the gang to Hopefield Avenue.</p>
+
+<p>But the back of this house was in darkness, and pushing
+open a gate, he passed from the lane to the garden and
+silently approached the building. A path led straight from
+gate to door, a side door evidently, as the walled-in yard
+was on his left hand. Another path to the right led round
+the house to the hall door in the front.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne walked slowly round, examining doors and
+windows. All of these were fastened and he did not see
+how without breaking the glass he could force an entrance.
+But he found a window at the back, the sash of which was
+loose and easy fitting, and decided that in case of need he
+would operate on this.</p>
+
+<p>Having learned everything he could, he retraced his
+steps to his companion and they held a whispered
+consultation. Cheyne was for taking the opportunity of the house
+being empty to make an attempt then and there to get in.
+But Miss Merrill would not hear of it. Such a venture, she
+said, would require very careful thought as well as
+apparatus which they had not got. “Besides,” she added, “you’ve
+done enough for one night. Remember you’re not
+completely well yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, blow my health; I’m perfectly all right,” he
+whispered back, but he had to admit her other arguments were
+sound and the two, cautiously emerging from their
+hiding-place, walked back to Wembley and took the next train
+to town.</p>
+
+<p>She was silent during the journey, but as they reached
+Baker Street she turned to him and said: “Look here, I
+believe I’ve got an idea. Bring a long-burning electric
+torch with you tomorrow afternoon and whatever tools
+you want to open the window, and perhaps we’ll try our
+luck.” She would not explain her plan nor would she allow
+him to accompany her to the studio, so with rather a bad
+grace he said good night and returned to his hotel.</p>
+
+<p>The next day he spent in making an assortment of
+purchases. These were in all a powerful electric torch,
+guaranteed to burn brightly for a couple of hours, a short,
+slightly bent lever of steel with a chisel point at one end,
+a cap, a pair of thin gloves, a glazier’s diamond, some
+twenty feet of thin rope and a five-inch piece of bright
+steel tubing with a tiny handle at one side. These, when
+four o’clock came, he took with him to Horne Terrace and
+spread in triumph on Miss Merrill’s table.</p>
+
+<p>“Good gracious!” cried the young lady as she stared
+wonderingly at the collection. “Whatever are these?
+Another expedition to Mount Everest?”</p>
+
+<p>“Torch: takes the place of the old dark lantern,”
+Cheyne answered proudly, pointing to the article in
+question. “Jemmy for persuading intractable doors, boxes and
+drawers; cap that will not drop or blow off; gloves to
+keep one’s fingerprints off the furniture; diamond for
+making holes in panes of glass; penknife for shooting back
+snibs of windows; rope for escaping from upstairs
+windows, and this”—he picked up the bit of tube and
+levelled it at her—“what price this for bluffing out of a
+tight place? If the light’s not too good it’s a pretty fair
+imitation. Also”—he pointed to his feet—“rubber-soled
+shoes for silence.”</p>
+
+<p>She gave a delightful little ripple of laughter, then
+became serious.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you no anklets?” she asked anxiously. “Don’t say
+you have forgotten your anklets!”</p>
+
+<p>“Anklets?” he repeated. “What d’you mean? I don’t
+follow.”</p>
+
+<p>“To guard against the bites of sharks, of course,” she
+declared. “Don’t you remember the White Knight had
+them for his horse?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was so serious and eager that he felt somewhat
+dashed, but he joined in the laugh, and when they had
+had tea they settled down to talk over their arrangements.
+Then it seemed that she really had a plan, and when
+Cheyne heard it he became immediately enthusiastic.
+Like all good plans it was simple, and soon they had the
+details cut and dry.</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s try tonight,” Cheyne cried in excitement.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I think we should. If these people have some
+scheme on hand every day’s delay is in their favor and
+against you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Against us, Joan, not against me,” he cried, then
+realizing what he had said, he looked at her anxiously. “I
+may call you Joan, mayn’t I?” he pleaded. “You see,
+we’re partners now.”</p>
+
+<p>She didn’t mind, it appeared, what he called her. Any
+old name would do. And she didn’t mind calling him
+Maxwell either. She hadn’t noticed that Maxwell was so
+frightfully long and clumsy, but she supposed Max <em>was</em>
+shorter. So that was that. They returned to the Plan.
+Though they continued discussing it for nearly an hour
+neither was able to improve on it, except that they decided
+that the first thing to be done if they got hold of the
+tracing was to copy their adversaries and photograph it.</p>
+
+<p>“Drat this daylight saving,” Cheyne grumbled. “If it
+wasn’t for that we could start a whole hour earlier. As it
+is there is no use going out there before nine.” He paused
+and then went on: “Queer thing that these two houses
+should be so much alike—this Earlswood and the one in
+Hopefield Avenue. Both at cross roads, both with lanes
+behind them, and both surrounded by gardens and hedges
+and shrubs.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very queer,” Joan admitted, “especially as there
+probably aren’t more than a hundred thousand houses of that
+type in London. But it’s all to the good. You’ll feel at
+home when you get in.”</p>
+
+<p>They sparred pleasantly for some time, then after a
+leisurely dinner they tubed to Baker Street and took the
+train to Wembley Park. It was darker than on the
+previous evening, for the sky was thickly overcast. There
+had been some rain during the day, but this had now
+ceased, though the wind had turned east and it had
+become cold and raw.</p>
+
+<p>Turning into Dalton Road, they reached the cross-lane
+at Earlswood, passed through the gap in the hedge and
+took up their old position among the shrubs. They had
+seen no one and they believed they were unobserved.
+From where they crouched they could see that Earlswood
+was again in darkness, and presently Cheyne slipped
+away to explore.</p>
+
+<p>He was soon back again with the welcome news that
+the rear of the house was also unlighted and that the Plan
+might be put into operation forthwith. In spite of Joan’s
+ridicule he had insisted on bringing his complete outfit,
+and he now stood up and patted himself over to make
+sure that everything was in place. The cap, the gloves, and
+the shoes he was wearing, the rope was coiled round his
+waist beneath his coat, and the other articles were stowed
+in his various pockets. He turned and signified that he
+was ready.</p>
+
+<p>Joan opened the proceedings by passing out through the
+gap in the hedge, walking openly across to the Earlswood
+hall door, and ringing. This was to make sure that the
+house really was untenanted. If any one came she would
+simply ask if Mrs. Bryce-Harris was at home and then
+apologize for having mistaken the address.</p>
+
+<p>But no one answered, and the demonstration of this was
+Cheyne’s cue. When he had waited for five minutes after
+Joan’s departure and no sound came from across the road,
+he in his turn slipped out through the gap in the hedge,
+and after a glance round, crossed Dalton Road, and passing
+down by the side of Earlswood, turned into the lane at
+the back. On this occasion he could dimly see the gate into
+the garden, which was painted white, and he passed
+through, leaving it open behind him, and reached the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>The point upon which Joan’s plan hinged was that,
+owing to the shrubs in front of the building, it was possible
+to remain concealed in the shadows beside the porch,
+invisible from the road. She proposed, therefore, to stay at
+the door while Cheyne was carrying on operations within,
+and to ring if any one approached the house, adding a
+double knock if there was urgent danger. She would hold
+the newcomer with inquiries as to the whereabouts of the
+mythical Mrs. Bryce-Harris, thus insuring time for her
+companion to beat a retreat. She herself also would have
+time in which to vanish before her victims realized what
+had happened.</p>
+
+<p>Feeling, therefore, that he would have a margin in
+which to withdraw if flight became necessary, Cheyne set
+to work to force an entrance. He rapidly examined the
+doors and windows, but all were fastened as before.
+Choosing the window with the loose sash upon which he had
+already decided, he took his knife and tried to open the
+catch. The two sashes were “rabbitted” where they met,
+but he was able to push the blade up right through the
+overhanging wood of the upper sash and lever the catch
+round until it snapped clear. Then withdrawing the knife,
+he raised the bottom sash. A moment later he was standing
+on the scullery floor.</p>
+
+<p>His first care was to unlock and throw open the back
+door, so as to provide an emergency exit in case of need.
+Then he closed and refastened the scullery window,
+darkening with a pencil the wood where the knife had broken
+a splinter. As he said to himself, there was no kind of
+sense in calling attention to his visit.</p>
+
+<p>He crossed the hall and silently opened the front door
+to see that all was right with Joan. Then closing it again,
+he began a search of the house.</p>
+
+<p>The building was of old-fashioned design, a narrow hall
+running through its center from back to front. Five doors
+opened off this hall, leading to the dining room and the
+kitchen at one side, a sitting room and a kind of library
+or study at the other, and the garden at the back. Upstairs
+were four bedrooms—one unoccupied—and a servant’s
+room.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne rapidly passed through the house searching for
+likely hiding places for the tracing. Soon he came to the
+conclusion that unless some freak place had been chosen,
+it would be in one of two places: either a big roll-top desk
+in the library or an old-fashioned escritoire in one of the
+bedrooms. Both of these were locked. Fortunately there
+was no safe.</p>
+
+<p>He decided to try the desk first. A gentle application of
+the jemmy burst its lock and he threw up the cover and
+sat down to go through the contents.</p>
+
+<p>Evidently it belonged to Blessington, and evidently also
+Blessington was a man of tidy and businesslike habits.
+There were but few papers on the desk and these from
+their date were clearly current and waiting to be dealt
+with. In the drawers were bundles of letters, accounts,
+receipts, and miscellaneous papers, all neatly tied together
+with tape and docketed. In one of the side drawers was a
+card index and in another a vertical numeralpha letter
+file. Through all of these Cheyne hurriedly looked, but
+nowhere was there any sign of the tracing.</p>
+
+<p>A few measurements with a pocket rule showed that
+there were no spaces in the desk unaccounted for, and
+closing the top, Cheyne hurried upstairs to the escritoire.
+It was a fine old piece and it went to his heart to damage
+it with the jemmy. But he remembered his treatment
+aboard the <i>Enid</i>, and such a paroxysm of anger swept
+over him that he plunged in the point of his tool and
+ruthlessly splintered open the lid.</p>
+
+<p>The drawers were fastened by separate locks, and each
+one Cheyne smashed with a savage satisfaction. Then he
+began to examine their contents.</p>
+
+<p>This was principally bundles of old letters, tied up in
+the same methodical way as those downstairs. Cheyne did
+not read anything, but from the fragments of sentences
+which he could not help seeing there seemed ample
+corroboration of Speedwell’s statements that Blessington lived
+by professional blackmail. He felt a wave of disgust sweep
+over him as he went through drawer after drawer of the
+obscene collection.</p>
+
+<p>But here also no luck met his efforts, and with a sinking
+heart he took out his rule to measure the escritoire. And
+then he became suddenly excited as he found that the
+thickness of the wood at the back of the drawers, which
+normally should have been about half an inch, measured
+no less than four inches. Here, surely, there must be a
+secret drawer.</p>
+
+<p>He examined the woodwork, but nowhere could he see
+the slightest trace of an opening. He pressed and pulled
+and pushed, but still without result: no knob would slide,
+no panel depress. But of the existence of the space there
+was no doubt. There was room for a receptacle six inches
+by twelve by three, and, moreover, all six sides of it
+sounded hollow when tapped.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing for it but force. With a sharp stroke
+he rammed the point of the jemmy into the side. It
+penetrated, he levered it down, and with a grinding, cracking
+sound the wood split and part of it was prised off. Eagerly
+Cheyne put the torch to the opening, and he chuckled
+with satisfaction as he saw within the familiar lilac gray
+of the tracing.</p>
+
+<p>Once again he inserted the point of the jemmy to prise
+off the remainder of the side, but the heavy wood at the
+top of the piece prevented his getting a leverage. He
+withdrew the tool to find a fresh purchase, but as he did so,
+the front door bell rang—several sharp, jerky peals.
+Frantically he jammed in the jemmy, intending by sheer force
+to smash out the wood, but his position was hampered,
+and it cracked, but did not give. As he tried desperately
+for a fresh hold an urgent double knock sounded from
+below. Sweating and tugging with the jemmy he heard
+voices outside the window. And then with a resounding
+crack the panel gave, he plunged in his hand, seized the
+tracing, thrust it and the jemmy into his pocket and rushed
+out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>But as he did so he heard the front door open and
+Dangle’s voice from below: “It sounded in the house.
+Didn’t you think so?” and Susan’s: “Yes, upstairs, I
+thought.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne looked desperately round for a weapon. Near
+the head of the stairs stood a light cane chair, and this he
+seized as he dashed down. As he turned the angle of the
+stairs Dangle switched on the light in the hall, and with
+a startled oath ran forward to intercept him. With all his
+might Cheyne hurled the chair at the other’s head. Dangle
+threw up his arms to protect his face, and by the time he
+recovered himself Cheyne was in the hall, doubling round
+the newel post. Both Dangle and Susan clutched at the
+flying figure. But Cheyne, twisting like an eel, tore himself
+free and made at top speed for the back door. This he
+slammed after him, rushing as fast as he could down the
+garden. He slackened only to pull the gate to as he passed
+through it, then sped along the lane, and turning at its
+end away from Dalton Road, tore off into the night.</p>
+
+<p>These proceedings were not in accordance with the
+Plan. The intention had been that on either recovering
+the tracing or satisfying himself that it was not in the
+house, Cheyne would close the back door, and letting
+himself out by the front, would meet Joan, pull the door to
+after them, walk round the house and quietly disappear
+via the garden and lane. But the possibility of an
+unexpected flight had been recognized. It had been decided
+that in such a case the first thing would be to get rid of
+the tracing, so that in the event of capture, the fruits of
+the raid would at least be safe. Therefore, on all the routes
+away from Earlswood hiding places had been fixed on,
+from which Joan would afterwards recover it. Along the
+lane the hiding place was the back of a wall approaching
+a culvert, and over this wall Cheyne duly threw the booty
+as he rushed along.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Dangle was out on the road and running
+for all he was worth. But Cheyne had the advantage of
+him. He was lighter and an experienced athlete, and,
+except for his illness, was in better training. Moreover,
+he was more lightly clad and wore rubber shoes. Dangle,
+though Cheyne did not know it, was hampered by an
+overcoat and patent leather boots. He could not gain on
+the fugitive, and Cheyne heard his footsteps dropping farther
+and farther behind, until at last they ceased altogether.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne slacked to a walk as he wiped the perspiration
+from his forehead. So far as he was concerned he had now
+only to make his way back to town and meet Joan at her
+studio. He considered his position and concluded his best
+and safest plan would be to go on to Harrow and take
+an express for Marylebone—if he could get one.</p>
+
+<p>He duly reached Harrow, but he found there that he
+would have nearly an hour to wait for a non-stop train
+for London. He decided, however, that this would be
+better than risking a halt at Wembley Park, and he hung
+about at the end of the platform until the train came
+along. On reaching town he took a taxi to Horne Terrace
+and hurried up to No. 12. Joan had not returned!</p>
+
+<p>He waited outside her room for a considerable time,
+then coming down, began to pace the street in front of
+the house. Every moment he became more and more
+anxious. It was now half past twelve o’clock and she should
+have been back over an hour ago. What could be keeping
+her? Merciful Heavens! If anything could have happened
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote a note on a leaf of his pocketbook saying he
+would return in the morning, and going once more up to
+her flat, pushed it under the door. Then hailing a belated
+taxi, he offered the man a fancy price to drive him to
+Wembley Park.</p>
+
+<p>Some half-hour later he climbed over the wall across
+which he had thrown the tracing. A careful search showed
+that it was no longer there; moreover it revealed the print
+of a dainty shoe with a rather high heel, such as he had
+noticed Joan wearing earlier in the evening. He returned
+to the shrubs at the gap where they had waited, but there
+he could find no trace of her at all. Then he walked all
+round Earlswood, but it was shrouded in darkness. Finally,
+his taximan having refused to wait for him and all traffic
+being over for the day, he set out to walk to London, which
+he reached between three and four o’clock.</p>
+
+<p>He had some coffee at a stall and then returned to his
+hotel, but by seven he was once more at Horne Terrace.
+Eagerly he raced up the steps and knocked at No. 12.
+There was no answer.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a white speck below the door caught his eye,
+and stooping, he saw the note he had pushed in on the
+previous evening. Joan evidently had not yet returned.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch11">
+
+<h2>Chapter XI. <br> Otto Schulz’s Secret</h2>
+
+<p>Cheyne, faced by the disquieting fact that Joan Merrill
+had failed to reach home in spite of her expressed intention
+to return there immediately, stood motionless outside her
+door, aghast and irresolute. With a growing anxiety he
+asked himself what could have occurred to delay her. He
+knew her well enough to be satisfied that she would not
+change her mind through sudden caprice. Something had
+happened to her, and as he considered the possibilities, he
+grew more and more uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>The contingency was one which neither of them had
+foreseen, and for the moment he was at a loss as to how
+to cope with it. First, in his hot-blooded way he thought
+of buying a real pistol, returning to Earlswood, and shooting
+Blessington and Dangle unless they revealed her whereabouts.
+Then reason told him that they really might not
+know, that Joan might have met with an accident or for
+some reason have gone to friends for the night, and he
+thought of putting the matter in Speedwell’s hands. But
+he soon saw that Speedwell had not the means or the
+organization to deal adequately with the affair and his
+thoughts turned to Scotland Yard. He was loath to confess
+his own essays in illegality in such an unsympathetic <i>milieu</i>,
+but of course no hesitation was possible if Joan’s
+safety was at stake.</p>
+
+<p>Still pondering the problem, he turned and slowly
+descended the stairs. He would wait, he thought, for an
+hour or perhaps two—say until nine. If by nine o’clock
+she had neither turned up nor sent a message he would
+go to Scotland Yard, no matter what the consequences to
+himself might be.</p>
+
+<p>Thinking that he should go back to his hotel in case
+she telephoned, he strode off along the pavement. But he
+had scarcely left the doorway when he heard his name
+called from behind, and swinging round, he gazed in
+speechless amazement at the figure confronting him. It was
+James Dangle!</p>
+
+<p>For a moment they stared at one another, and then
+Cheyne saw red.</p>
+
+<p>“You infernal scoundrel!” he yelled, and sprang at the
+other’s throat. Dangle, stepping back, threw up his hands
+to parry the onslaught, while he cried earnestly:</p>
+
+<p>“Steady, Mr. Cheyne; for heaven’s sake, steady! I have
+a message for you from Miss Merrill.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne glared wrathfully, but he pulled himself together
+and released his hold.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t speak her name, you blackguard!” he said
+thickly. “What’s your message?”</p>
+
+<p>“She is all right,” Dangle answered quickly, “but the
+rest of it will take time to tell. Let us get out of this.”</p>
+
+<p>Some passers-by, hearing the raised voices, had stopped,
+and a small crowd, eager for a row, had collected about
+the two men. Dangle seized Cheyne’s wrist and hurried
+him down the street and round the corner.</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s go to your hotel, Mr. Cheyne, or anywhere else we
+can talk,” he begged. “What I have to say will take a
+little time.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne snatched his wrist away.</p>
+
+<p>“Keep your filthy hands to yourself,” he snarled. “Where
+is Miss Merrill?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am sorry to say she has met with a slight accident,”
+Dangle replied, speaking quickly and with placatory
+gestures; “not in any way serious, only a twisted ankle. I found
+her on the road on my way back from chasing you, leaning
+up against the stone wall which runs along the lane at
+the back of Blessington’s house. She had hurt herself in
+climbing down to get the tracing which you threw over.
+I called my sister and we helped her into the house, and
+Susan bathed and bound up her ankle and fixed her up
+comfortably on the sofa. It is not really a sprain, but it
+will be painful for a day or two.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was taken aback not only by his enemy’s
+knowledge, but also by being talked to in so friendly a fashion,
+and in his relief at the news he felt his anger draining
+away.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve got the tracing again, I suppose?” he said
+ruefully.</p>
+
+<p>Dangle smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, yes, we have,” he agreed. “But I have to admit it
+was the result of two lucky chances; first, my sister’s and
+my return just when we did, and second, Miss Merrill’s
+unfortunate false step over the wall. But your scheme was
+a good one, and with ordinary luck you would have pulled
+it off.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne grunted, and Dangle, turning towards him, went
+on earnestly: “Look here, Mr. Cheyne, why should we be
+on opposite sides in this affair? I have spoken to my
+partners, and we are all agreed. You are the kind of man we
+want, and we believe we could be of benefit to one
+another. In fact, to make a long story short, I am
+authorized to lay before you a certain proposition. I believe it
+will appeal to you. It is for that purpose I should like to
+go somewhere where we could talk. If not to your hotel,
+I know a place a few hundred yards down this street
+where we could get a private room.”</p>
+
+<p>“I want to go out and see Miss Merrill.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you do. But Miss Merrill was asleep when I
+left and most probably will sleep for an hour or two yet,
+so there is time enough. I beg that you will first hear what
+I have to say. Then we can go out together.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, come to my hotel,” Cheyne said ungraciously,
+and the two walked along, Dangle making tentative essays
+in conversation, all of which were brought to nought by
+the uncompromising brevity of his companion’s responses.</p>
+
+<p>“You’d better come up to my bedroom,” Cheyne growled
+when at last they reached their goal. “These dratted
+servants are cleaning the public rooms.”</p>
+
+<p>In silence they sought the lift and Cheyne led the way
+to his apartment. Bolting the door, he pointed to a chair,
+stood himself with his back to the empty fireplace and
+remarked impatiently: “Well?”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle laughed lightly.</p>
+
+<p>“I see you’re not going to help me out, Mr. Cheyne,
+and I suppose I can scarcely wonder at it. Well, I’ll get
+ahead without further delay. But, as I’ve a good deal to
+say, I should suggest you sit down, and if you don’t mind,
+I’ll smoke. Try one of these Coronas; they were given to
+me, so you needn’t mind taking one. No? I wonder would
+you mind if I rang and ordered some coffee and rolls?
+I’ve not breakfasted yet and I’m hungry.”</p>
+
+<p>With a bad grace Cheyne rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>“Coffee and rolls for two,” Dangle ordered when an
+attendant came to the door. “You will join me, won’t you?
+Even if my mission comes to nothing and we remain
+enemies, there’s no reason why we should make our
+interview more unpleasant than is necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne strode up and down the room.</p>
+
+<p>“But I don’t want the confounded interview,” he
+exclaimed angrily. “For goodness’ sake get along and say
+what you have to say and clear out. I haven’t forgotten
+the <i>Enid</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, that was illegal, wasn’t it? Almost as bad as
+breaking and entering, burglary and theft. But now, there’s
+no kind of sense in squabbling. Sit down and listen and
+I’ll tell you a story that will interest you in spite of
+yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shouldn’t wonder,” Cheyne said with sarcasm as he
+flung himself into a chair, “but if it’s going to be more
+lies about St. John Price and the Hull succession you may
+save your breath.”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle smiled whimsically. “It was for your sake, Mr.
+Cheyne; perhaps not quite legitimate, but still done with
+the best intention. I told him that yarn—I admit, of course,
+it was a yarn—simply to make it easy for you to give up
+the letter. I knew that nothing would induce you to part
+with it if you thought it dishonorable; hence the story.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne laughed harshly.</p>
+
+<p>“And what will be the object of the new yarn?”</p>
+
+<p>“This time it won’t be a yarn. I will tell you the truth.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you expect me to believe it?”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle leaned forward and spoke more earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>“You will believe it, not, I’m afraid, because I tell it,
+but because it is capable of being checked. A great portion
+of it can be substantiated by inquiries at the Admiralty and
+elsewhere, and your reason will satisfy you as to the
+remainder.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, go on and get it over anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle once more smilingly shrugged his shoulders, lit
+his cigar and began:</p>
+
+<p>“My tale commences as before with our mutual friend,
+Arnold Price, and once again it goes back to the year 1917.
+In February of ’17 Arnold Price was, as you know, third
+mate of the <i>Maurania</i>, and I was on the same ship in
+command of her bow gun—she had guns mounted fore
+and aft. I hadn’t known Price before, but we became
+friends—not close friends, but as intimate as most men
+who are cooped up together for months on the same ship.</p>
+
+<p>“In February ’17, as we were coming into the Bay on
+our way from South Africa, we sighted a submarine. I
+needn’t worry you with the details of what followed. It’s
+enough to say that we tried to escape, and failing, showed
+fight. As it chanced, by a stroke of the devil’s own luck we
+pumped a shell into her just abaft the conning tower after
+she rose and before she could get her gun trained on us.
+She heeled over and began to sink by the stern. I confess
+that I’d have watched those devils drown, as they had
+done many of our poor fellows, but the old man wasn’t that
+way inclined and he called for volunteers to get out one of
+the boats. Price was the first man to offer, and they got a
+boat lowered away and pulled for the submarine. She
+disappeared before they could get up to her, and we could see
+her crew clinging to wreckage. The men in the boat
+pulled all out to get there before they were washed away,
+for there was a bit of a sea running, the end of a
+southwester that had just blown itself out. Well, some of the crew
+held on and they got them into the boat; others couldn’t
+stick it and were lost. The captain was there clinging on to
+a lifebelt, but just as the boat came up he let go and was
+sinking, when Arnold Price jumped overboard and caught
+him and supported him until they got a rope round him
+and pulled him aboard. I didn’t see that myself, but I
+heard about it afterwards. The captain’s name was Otto
+Schulz, and when they got him aboard the <i>Maurania</i> and
+fixed up in bed they found that he had had a knock on the
+head that would probably do for him. But all the same
+Price had saved his life, and what was more, had saved it
+at the risk of his own. That is the first point in my story.”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle paused and drew at his cigar. As he had foretold,
+Cheyne was already interested. The story appealed to him,
+for he knew that for once he was not being told a yarn. He
+had already heard of the rescue; in fact he had himself
+congratulated Price on his brave deed. He remembered a
+curious point about it. A day or two later Price had been hit
+in an encounter with another U-boat, and he and Schulz
+had been sent to the same hospital—somewhere on the
+French coast. There Schulz had died, and from there Price
+had sent the mysterious tracing which had been the cause
+of all these unwonted activities.</p>
+
+<p>“We crossed the Bay without further adventures,”
+Dangle resumed, “but as we approached the Channel we
+sighted another U-boat. We exchanged a few shots
+without doing a great deal of harm on either side, and when a
+destroyer came on the scene Brother Fritz submerged and
+disappeared. But as luck would have it one of his shells
+burst over our fo’c’sle. Both Price and I were there, I at my
+gun and he on some job of his own, and both of us got
+knocked out. Price had a scalp wound and I a bit of shell
+in my thigh; neither very serious, but both stretcher cases.</p>
+
+<p>“We called at Brest that night and next morning they
+sent us ashore to hospital. Schulz was sent with us. By
+what seems now a strange coincidence, but what was, I
+suppose, ordinary and natural enough, we were put into
+adjoining beds in the same ward. That is the second point
+of my story.”</p>
+
+<p>Again Dangle paused and again Cheyne reflected that
+so far he was being told the truth. He wondered with a
+growing thrill if he was really going to learn the contents
+of Price’s letter to himself and the meaning of the mysterious
+tracing, as well as the circumstances under which it was
+sent. He nodded to show he had grasped the point and
+Dangle went on:</p>
+
+<p>“Price and I soon began to improve, but the blow on
+Schulz’s head turned out pretty bad and he grew weaker
+and weaker. At last he got to know he was going to peg
+out, as you will see from what I overheard.</p>
+
+<p>“I was lying that night in a sort of waking dream, half
+asleep and half conscious of my surroundings. The ward
+was very still. There were six of us there and I thought all
+the others were asleep. The night nurse had just had a look
+round and had gone out again. She had left the gas lit,
+but turned very low. Suddenly I heard Schulz, who was in
+the next bed, calling Price. He called him two or three times
+and then Price answered. ‘Look here, Price,’ Schulz said,
+‘are those other blighters asleep?’ He talked as good
+English as you or me. Price said ‘Yes,’ and then Schulz
+went on to talk.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, I don’t know if you’ll believe me, Mr. Cheyne,
+but though as a matter of fact, I overheard everything he
+said, I didn’t mean to listen. I was so tired and dreamy
+that I just didn’t think of telling him I was awake, and
+indeed if I had thought of it, I don’t believe I should have
+had the energy to move. You know how it is when you’re
+not well. Then when I did hear it was too late. I just
+couldn’t tell him that I had learned his secret.”</p>
+
+<p>As Dangle spoke there was a knock at the door and a
+waiter arrived with coffee. Dangle paid him, and without
+further comment poured some out for Cheyne and handed
+it across. Cheyne was by this time so interested in the tale
+that his resentment was forgotten, and he took the cup
+with a word of thanks.</p>
+
+<p>“Go on,” he added. “I’m interested in your story, as you
+said I should be.”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought you would,” Dangle answered with his ready
+smile. “Well, Schulz began by telling Price that he knew
+he wasn’t going to live. Then he went on to say that he
+felt it cruelly hard luck, because he had accidentally come
+on a secret which would have brought him an immense
+fortune. Now he couldn’t use it. He had been going to let it die
+with him, but he remembered what he owed to Price and
+had decided to hand over the information to him. ‘But,’
+he said, ‘there is one condition. You must first swear to me
+on your sacred honor that if you make anything out of it
+you will, after the war, try to find my wife and hand her
+one-eighth of what you get. I say one-eighth, because if you
+get any profits at all they will be so enormous that
+one-eighth will be riches to Magda.’</p>
+
+<p>“I could see that Price thought he was delirious, but to
+quiet him he swore the oath and then Schulz told of his
+discovery. He said that before he had been given charge of
+the U-boat he had served for over six months in the
+Submarine Research Department, and that there, while
+carrying out certain experiments, he had had a lucky accident.
+Some substances which he had fused in an electric furnace
+had suddenly partially vaporized and, as it were, boiled
+over. The white-hot mass poured over the copper terminals
+of his furnace, with the result that the extremely high
+voltage current short-circuited with a corona of brilliant
+sparks. He described the affair in greater detail than this,
+but I am not an electrician and I didn’t follow the
+technicalities. But they don’t matter, it was the result that was
+important. When the current was cut off and the mass
+cooled he started in to clean up. He chipped the stuff off
+the terminals, and he found that the copper had fused and
+run. And then he made his great discovery: the copper had
+hardened. He tested it and found it was, roughly speaking,
+as hard as high carbon steel and with an even greater
+tensile strength! Unintentionally he had made a new and
+unknown alloy. Schulz knew that the ancients were able to
+harden copper and he supposed that he had found the lost
+art.</p>
+
+<p>“At once he saw the extraordinary value of this
+discovery. If you could use copper instead of steel you would
+revolutionize the construction of electrical machinery;
+copper conduits could be lighter and be self-supporting—in
+scores of ways the new metal would be worth nearly its
+weight in gold. He could not work at the thing by
+himself, so he told his immediate superior, who happened also
+to be a close personal friend. The two tried some more
+experiments, and to make a long story short, they
+discovered that if certain percentages of certain minerals were
+added to the copper during smelting, it became hard. The
+minerals were cheap and plentiful, so that practically the
+new metal could be produced at the old price. This meant,
+for example, that they could make parts of machines of the
+new alloy, which would weigh—and therefore cost—only
+about one-quarter of those of ordinary copper. If they sold
+these at half or even three-quarters of the old price they
+would make an extremely handsome profit. But their idea
+was not to do this, but to sell their discovery to Krupps or
+some other great firm who, they believed, would pay a
+million sterling or more for it.</p>
+
+<p>“But they knew that they could not do anything with it
+until after the war unless they were prepared to hand it
+over to the military authorities for whatever these chose to
+pay, which would probably be nothing. While they were
+still considering their course of action both were ordered
+back to sea. Schulz’s friend was killed almost immediately,
+Schulz being then the only living possessor of the secret.
+Panic-stricken lest he too should be killed, he prepared a
+cipher giving the whole process, and this he sealed in a
+watertight cover and wore it continuously beneath his
+clothes. He now proposed to give it to Price, partly in
+return for what Price had done, and partly in the hope of
+his wife eventually benefiting. I saw him hand over a small
+package, and then I got the disappointment of my life, and
+so, I’m sure, did Price. Schulz was obviously growing
+weaker and he now spoke with great difficulty. But he
+made a final effort to go on; ‘The key to the cipher—’ he
+began and just then the sister came back into the room.
+Schulz stopped, but before she left he got a weak turn and
+fell back unconscious. He never spoke again and next day
+he was dead.”</p>
+
+<p>In his absorption Dangle had let his cigar go out, and now
+he paused to relight it. Cheyne sat, devouring the story
+with eager interest. He did not for a moment doubt it. It
+covered too accurately the facts which he already knew. He
+was keenly curious to hear its end: whether Dangle,
+having obtained the cipher, had read it, and what was the
+nature of the proposal the man was about to make.</p>
+
+<p>“Next day I approached Price on the matter. I said I had
+involuntarily overheard what Schulz had told him, and as
+the affair was so huge, asked him to take me into it with
+him. As a matter of fact I thought then, and think now,
+that the job was too big for one person to handle.
+However, Price cut up rough about it: wouldn’t have me as a
+partner on any terms and accused me of eavesdropping. I
+told him to go to hell and we parted on bad terms. I found
+out—I may as well admit by looking through the letters in
+his cabin while he was on duty—that he had sent the
+packet to you, and when I had made inquiries about you I
+was able to guess his motive. You, humanly speaking, were
+a safe life; you were invalided out of the service. He would
+send the secret to you to keep for him till after the war or
+to use as you thought best if he were knocked out.</p>
+
+<p>“You will understand, Mr. Cheyne, that though keenly
+interested in the whole affair, while I was in the service I
+couldn’t make any move in it. But directly I was demobbed
+I began to make inquiries. I found you were living at
+Dartmouth, and it was evident from your way of life that
+you hadn’t exploited the secret. Then I found out about
+Price, learned that he was on one of the Bombay-Basrah
+troopships and that though he had applied to be demobbed
+there were official delays. The next thing I heard about him
+was that he had disappeared. You knew that?” Dangle
+seemed to have been expecting the other to show surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I knew it. I learned it at the same time that I
+learned St. John Price was a myth.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it’s quite true. He left his ship at Bombay on a
+few days’ leave to pay a visit up country and was never
+heard of again. Presumably he is dead. And now, Mr.
+Cheyne,” Dangle shifted uneasily in his seat and glanced
+deprecatingly at the other, “now I come to a part of my
+story which I should be glad to omit. But I must tell you
+everything so that you may be in a position to decide on
+the proposal I’m going to make. At the time I was
+financially in very low water. My job had not been kept
+for me and I couldn’t get another. I was pretty badly hit,
+and worse still, I had taken to gambling in the desperate
+hope of getting some ready money. One night I had been
+treated on an empty stomach, and being upset from the
+drink, I plunged more than all my remaining capital. I
+lost, and then I was down and out, owing fairly large sums
+to two men—Blessington and Sime. In despair I told them
+of Schulz’s discovery. They leaped at it and said that if
+my sister Susan and myself would join in an attempt to
+get hold of the secret they would not only cancel the debts,
+but would offer us a square deal and share and share alike.
+Well, I shouldn’t have agreed, of course, but—well, I did.
+It was naturally the pressure they brought to bear that
+made me do it, but it was also partly due to my resentment
+at the way Price had turned me down. We thought that
+as far as you were concerned, you were probably expecting
+nothing and would therefore suffer no disappointment,
+and we agreed unanimously to send both Frau Schulz and
+Mrs. Price equal shares with ourselves. I don’t pretend any
+of us were right, Mr. Cheyne, but that’s what happened.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can understand it very well,” said Cheyne. He was
+always generous to a fault and this frank avowal had
+mollified his wrath. “But you haven’t told me if you read
+the cipher.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m coming to that,” Dangle returned. “We laid our
+plans for getting hold of the package and with some forged
+references Susan got a job as servant in your house. She
+told us that so far as she could see the package would
+either be about your person or in your safe, and as she
+couldn’t ascertain the point we laid our plans to find out.
+As you know, they drew blank, and then we devised the
+plant on the <i>Enid</i>. That worked, but you nearly turned the
+tables on us in Hopefield Avenue. How you traced us I
+can’t imagine, and I hope later on you’ll tell me. That
+night we didn’t know whether we had killed you or not.
+We didn’t want to and hadn’t meant to, but we might
+easily have done so. When your body was not found in the
+morning we became panicky and cleared out. Then there
+came your attempt of last night. But for an accident it
+would have succeeded. Now we have come to the
+conclusion that you are too clever and determined to have
+you for an enemy. We are accordingly faced with an
+alternative. Either we must murder you and Miss Merrill
+or we must get you on to our side. The first we all shrink
+from, though”—and here Dangle’s eye showed a nasty
+gleam—“if it was that or our failure we shouldn’t hesitate,
+but the second is what we should all prefer. In short, Mr.
+Cheyne, will you and Miss Merrill join us in trading
+Schulz’s secret: all, including Frau Schulz and Mrs. Price,
+to share equally? We think that’s a fair offer and we
+extremely hope you won’t turn us down.”</p>
+
+<p>“You haven’t told me if you’ve read the cipher.”</p>
+
+<p>“I forgot that. I’m sorry to say that we have not, and
+that’s another reason we want you and Miss Merrill. We
+want two fresh brains on it. But the covering letter shows
+that the secret is in the cipher and it must be possible to
+read it.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne did not reply as he sat considering this unexpected
+move. If he were satisfied as to Arnold Price’s death and
+if the quartet had been trustworthy he would not have
+hesitated. Frau Schulz would get her eighth and Mrs.
+Price would get a quite unexpected windfall. Moreover,
+the people who worked the invention were entitled to
+some return for their trouble. No, the proposal was
+reasonable; in fact it was too reasonable. It was more
+reasonable than he would have expected from people who had
+already acted as these four had done. He found it
+impossible to trust in their <i>bona fides</i>. He would like to have Joan
+Merrill’s views before replying. He therefore temporized.</p>
+
+<p>“Your proposal is certainly attractive,” he said, “but
+before coming to a conclusion Miss Merrill must be
+consulted. She would be a party to it, same as myself. Suppose
+we go out and see her now, and then I will give you my
+answer.”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle’s face took on a graver expression.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” he answered slowly.
+“You see, there is more in it than I have told you, though
+I hoped to avoid this side of it. Please put yourself in our
+place. I come to you with this offer. I don’t know whether
+you will accept it or turn it down. If you turn it down
+there is nothing to prevent you, with the information I
+have just given you, going to the police and claiming the
+whole secret and prosecuting us. Whether you would be
+likely to win your case wouldn’t matter. You might, and
+that would be too big a risk for us. We have therefore in
+self-defense had to take precautions. And the precautions
+we have taken are these. Earlswood has been evacuated.
+Just as we left Hopefield Avenue so we have left Dalton
+Road. Our party—and Miss Merrill”—he slightly stressed
+the “and” and in his voice Cheyne sensed a veiled
+threat—“have taken up their quarters at another house some
+distance from town. In self-defense we must have your
+acceptance <em>before</em> further negotiations take place. You must see
+this for yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if I refuse?”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle lowered his voice and spoke very earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Cheyne, if you refuse you will never see Miss
+Merrill alive!”</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch12">
+
+<h2>Chapter XII. <br> In the Enemy’s Lair</h2>
+
+<p>With some difficulty Cheyne overcame a sudden urge to
+leap at his companion’s throat.</p>
+
+<p>“You infernal scoundrel!” he cried thickly. “Injure a
+hair of Miss Merrill’s head and you and your confounded
+friends will hang! I’ll go to Scotland Yard. Do you think
+I mind about myself?”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle gave a cheery smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Right, Mr. Cheyne,” he answered Lid “by all
+means. Just do go to Scotland Yard and make your
+complaint. And what are you going to tell them? That Miss
+Merrill is in the hands of a dangerous gang of ruffians,
+and must be rescued immediately? And the present
+address of this gang is—?” He looked quizzically at the
+other. “I don’t think so. I’m afraid Scotland Yard would
+be too slow for you. You see, my friends are waiting for a
+telephone message from me. If that is not received or if it is
+unsatisfactory—well, don’t let us discuss unpleasant topics,
+but Miss Merrill will be very, very sorry.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne choked with rage, but for the moment he found
+himself unable to reply. That he was being bluffed he had
+no doubt, and in any other circumstances he would have
+taken a stronger line. But where Joan Merrill was
+concerned he could run no risks. It was evident that she really
+was in the power of the gang. Dangle could not possibly
+have known about the throwing of the tracing over the
+wall unless he really had found her as he had described.</p>
+
+<p>A very short cogitation convinced Cheyne that these
+people had him in their toils. Application to Scotland
+Yard would be useless. No doubt the police could find the
+conspirators, but they could not find them in time. So far
+as retaliation or a constructive policy was concerned, he
+saw that he was down and out.</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts turned to the proposal Dangle had made
+him. It was certainly fair—too fair, he still thought—but if
+it was a genuine offer, he need have no qualms about
+accepting it. Frau Schulz, Mrs. Price, Joan and himself
+were all promised shares of the profits. A clause could be
+put in covering Price, if he afterwards turned out to be
+alive. The gang might be a crowd of sharpers and thieves—so
+at least the melancholy Speedwell had said—but, as
+Cheyne came to look at it, they had not really broken the
+law to a much greater extent than he had himself. His case
+to the authorities—suppose he were to lay it before
+them—would not be so overwhelmingly clear. Something could
+be said for—or rather against—both sides.</p>
+
+<p>If he had to give way he might as well give way with a
+good grace. He therefore choked down his rage, and
+turning to Dangle, said quietly:</p>
+
+<p>“I see you’ve won this trick. I’ll accept your offer and go
+with you.”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle, evidently delighted, sprang to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Splendid, Mr. Cheyne,” he cried warmly, holding out
+his hand. “Shake hands, won’t you? You’ll not repent your
+action, I promise you.”</p>
+
+<p>But this was too much for Cheyne.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” he declared. “Not yet. You haven’t satisfied me
+of your <i>bona fides</i>. I’m sorry, but you have only yourselves
+to thank. When I find Miss Merrill at liberty and see
+Schulz’s cipher, I’ll be satisfied, and then I will join with
+you and give you all the help I can.”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle seemed rather dashed, but he laughed shortly
+as he answered: “I suppose we deserve that after all. But
+you will soon be convinced. There is just a formality to be
+gone through before we start. Though you may not believe
+my word, we believe yours, and we have agreed that all
+that we want before taking you further into our
+confidence, is that you swear an oath of loyalty to us. You won’t
+object to that, I presume?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne hesitated, then he said:</p>
+
+<p>“I swear on my sacred honor that I will loyally abide
+by the spirit of the agreement which you have outlined in
+so far as you and your friends act loyally to me and to
+Miss Merrill, and to that extent only.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s reasonable, and good enough,” Dangle
+commented. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and phone to the
+others. You will understand,” he explained on his return,
+“that my friends are some distance away from Wembley,
+and it will therefore take them a little time to get in. If
+they start now they will be there as soon as we are.”</p>
+
+<p>It was getting towards ten o’clock when Cheyne and
+Dangle turned into the gateway of Earlswood. A yellow car
+stood at the footpath, at sight of which Dangle exclaimed:
+“See, they’ve arrived.” His ring brought Blessington to the
+door, and the latter greeted Cheyne apologetically, but
+with the same charm of manner that he had displayed in
+the Edgecombe Hotel at Plymouth.</p>
+
+<p>“I do hope, Mr. Cheyne,” he declared, “that even after
+all that has passed, we may yet be friends. We admire the
+way you have fought your corner, and we feel that what we
+both up to the present have failed to do may well be
+accomplished if we unite our forces. Come in and see if
+you can make friends with Sime.”</p>
+
+<p>“I came to see Miss Merrill,” Cheyne answered shortly.
+“If Miss Merrill is not produced and allowed to go
+without restraint our agreement is <i>non est</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>“Naturally,” Blessington returned smoothly. “We
+understand that that is a <i>sine qua non</i>. And so Miss Merrill will
+be produced. She is not here; she is at our house in the
+country in charge of Miss Dangle, and that for two
+reasons. The first is this. She met with, as doubtless you know,
+a trifling accident last night, and her ankle being a little
+painful, she was kept awake for some time. This morning
+when we left she was still asleep. We did not therefore
+disturb her. That you will appreciate, Mr. Cheyne, and the
+other reason you will appreciate equally. We had to
+satisfy ourselves by a personal interview that you really meant
+to give us a square deal.” He raised his hand as Cheyne
+would have spoken. “There’s nothing in that to which you
+need take exception. It is an ordinary business
+precaution—nothing more or less.”</p>
+
+<p>“And when will Miss Merrill be set at liberty?”</p>
+
+<p>“While I don’t admit the justice of the phrase, I may
+say that as soon as we have all mutually pledged ourselves
+to play the game I will take the car back to the other
+house, and when Miss Merrill has taken the same oath
+will drive her to her studio. Perhaps you would write her
+a note that you have sworn it, as she mightn’t believe me.
+There are a few preliminaries to be arranged with Dangle
+and Sime can fix up with you. If you are at the studio at
+midday you will be in time to welcome Miss Merrill.”</p>
+
+<p>This did not meet with Cheyne’s approval. He wished
+to go himself to the mysterious house with Blessington,
+but the latter politely but firmly conveyed to him that he
+had not yet irrevocably committed himself on their side,
+and until he had done so they could not give away their
+best chance of escape should the police become interested
+in their movements. Cheyne argued with some bitterness,
+but the other side held the trumps, and he was obliged to
+give way.</p>
+
+<p>This point settled, nothing could have exceeded the
+easy friendliness of the trio. If Arnold Price were alive he
+would share equally with the rest. Would Mr. Cheyne
+come to the study while the formalities were got through?
+Did he consider this oath—typewritten—would meet the
+case? Well, they would take it first, binding themselves
+individually to each other and to him. Each of the three
+swore loyalty to the remaining quintet, the oaths of Joan
+Merrill and Susan being assumed for the moment. Then
+Cheyne swore and they all solemnly shook hands.</p>
+
+<p>“Now that’s done, Mr. Cheyne, we’ll prove our confidence
+in you by showing you the cipher. But first perhaps you
+would write to Miss Merrill. Also if any point is not quite
+clear to you please do not hesitate to question us.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was by no means enamored of the way things
+had turned out. He had been forced into an association
+with men with whom he had little in common and whom
+he did not trust. Had it not been for the trump card they
+held in the person of Joan Merrill nothing would have
+induced him to throw in his lot with them. But now,
+contingent on their good faith to him, he had pledged his
+word, and though he was not sure how far an enforced
+pledge was binding, he felt that as long as they kept their
+part of the bargain, he must keep his. He therefore wrote
+his letter, and then turning to Blessington, answered him
+civilly:</p>
+
+<p>“There is one thing I should like to know; I have
+thought about it many times. How did you drug me in
+that hotel in Plymouth without my knowledge and without
+leaving any traces in the food?”</p>
+
+<p>Blessington smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell you that with pleasure, Mr. Cheyne,” he
+answered readily, “but I confess I am surprised that a man
+of your acumen was puzzled by it. It depended upon
+prearrangement, and given that, was perfectly simple. I
+provided myself with the drug—if you don’t mind I won’t
+say how, as I might get someone else into trouble—but I
+got a small phial of it. I also took two other small bottles,
+one full of clean water, the other empty, together with a
+small cloth. Also I took my Extra Special Flask. Sime, like
+a good fellow, get my flask out of the drawer of my
+wrecked escritoire.” He smiled ruefully at Cheyne. “Then
+I prepared for our lunch: the private room, the menu and
+all complete. I told them at the hotel we had some
+business to arrange, and that we didn’t want to be disturbed
+after lunch. You know, of course, that I got all details of
+your movements from Miss Dangle?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I understand that.”</p>
+
+<p>As Cheyne spoke Sime re-entered the room, putting
+down on the table the flask which had figured in the scene
+at the hotel. Blessington handed it to Cheyne.</p>
+
+<p>“Examine that flask, Mr. Cheyne,” he invited. “Do you
+see anything remarkable about it?”</p>
+
+<p>It seemed an ordinary silver pocket flask, square and
+flat, and with a screw-down silver stopper. It was chased
+on both sides with a plain but rather pleasing design, and
+the base was flat so that it would stand securely. But
+Cheyne could see nothing about it in any way unusual.</p>
+
+<p>“Open it,” Blessington suggested.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne unscrewed the stopper and looked down the
+neck, but except that there was a curious projection at one
+side, which reduced the passage down to half the usual
+size, it seemed as other flasks. Blessington laughed.</p>
+
+<figure>
+  <img src="images/flasks.png"
+       alt="Two diagrams of a flask, divided down the middle and
+containing liquids in both parts. In the second diagram, the flask is
+tipped, and liquid pours from the right half only.">
+</figure>
+
+<p>“Look here,” he said, and seizing a scrap of paper, he
+drew the two sketches which I reproduce. “The flask is
+divided down the middle by a diaphragm <i>C</i>, so as to form
+two chambers, <i>A</i> and <i>B</i>. In these chambers are put two
+liquids, of which one is drugged and the other isn’t. <i>E</i>
+and <i>F</i> are two half diaphragms, and <i>D</i> is a very light and
+delicately fitted flap valve which will close the passage to
+either chamber. When you invert the flask, the liquid in
+the upper or <i>B</i> chamber runs out along diaphragm <i>C</i>,
+and its weight turns over valve D so that the passage to <i>A</i>
+chamber is closed. The liquid from <i>B</i> then pours out in
+the ordinary way. The liquid in <i>A</i>, however, cannot escape,
+because it is caught by the diaphragm <i>F</i>. If you want to
+pour out the liquid from <i>A</i> you simply turn the flask upside
+down, when the conditions as to the two liquids are
+reversed. You probably didn’t notice that I used the flask
+in this way at our lunch. You may remember that I poured
+out your liqueur first—it was drugged, of course. Then I
+got a convenient fit of coughing. That gave me an excuse
+to set down the flask and pick it up again, but when I
+picked it up I was careful to do so by the other side, so
+that undrugged liqueur poured into my own cup. I drank
+my coffee at once to reassure you. Simple, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“More than simple,” Cheyne answered with unwilling
+admiration in his tone. “A dangerous toy, but I admit,
+deuced ingenious. But I don’t follow even yet. That would
+have left the drugged remains in the cup.”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite so, but you have forgotten my other two bottles
+and my cloth. I poured the dregs from your cup into the
+empty bottle, washed the cup with water from the other,
+wiped it with my cloth, poured out another cup of coffee
+and drank it, leaving harmless grounds for any inquisitive
+analyst to experiment with.”</p>
+
+<p>“By Jove!” said Cheyne, then adding regretfully: “If we
+had only tried the handle of the cup for fingerprints!”</p>
+
+<p>“I put gloves on after you went over.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“You deserved to succeed,” he admitted ruefully.</p>
+
+<p>“I succeeded in drugging you,” Blessington answered,
+“but I did not succeed in getting what I wanted. Now,
+Mr. Cheyne, you would like to see the tracing. Show it to
+him, Dangle, while I go back to the other house for Miss
+Merrill.”</p>
+
+<p>Dangle left the room, returning presently with the
+blue-gray sheet which had been the pivot upon which all the
+strange adventures of the little company had turned.
+Cheyne saw at a glance it was the tracing which he had
+secured in the upper room in the house in Hopefield
+Avenue. There in the corners were the holes made by the
+drawing-pins which had fixed it to the door while it was
+being photographed. There were the irregularly spaced
+circles, with their letters and numbers, and there, written
+clockwise in a large circle, the words: “England expects
+every man to do his duty.” Cheyne gazed at it with interest,
+while Dangle and Sime sat watching him. What on earth
+could it mean? He pondered awhile, then turned to his
+companions.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you not been able to read any of it?” he queried.</p>
+
+<p>Dangle shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Not so much as a single word—not a letter even!” he
+declared. “I tell you, Mr. Cheyne, it’s a regular sneezer!
+I wouldn’t like to say how many hours we’ve spent—all of
+us—working at it. And I don’t think there’s a book on
+ciphers in the whole of London that we haven’t read. And
+not a glimmer of light from any of them! Blessington had
+a theory that each of these circles was intended to
+represent one or more atoms, according to the number it
+contained, and that certain circles could be grouped to make
+molecules of the various substances that were to be mixed
+with the copper. I never could quite understand his idea,
+but in any case all our work hasn’t helped us to find them.
+The truth is that we’re stale. We want a fresh brain on it,
+and particularly a woman’s brain. Sometimes a woman’s
+intuition will lead her to a lucky guess. We hope it may
+in this case.”</p>
+
+<p>He paused, then went on again: “Another thing we tried
+was this. Suppose that by some system of numerical
+substitution each of these numbers represents a letter. Then
+groups of these letters together with the letters already in
+the circles should represent words. Of course it is difficult
+to group them, though we tried again and again. At first
+the idea seemed promising, but we could make nothing of
+it. We couldn’t find any system either of substitution or of
+grouping which would give a glimmering of sense. No,
+we’re up against it and no mistake, and when we think of
+the issues involved we go nearly mad from exasperation.
+Take the thing, Mr. Cheyne, and see what you and Miss
+Merrill can do. That is the original, but I have made a
+tracing of it, so that we can continue our work
+simultaneously.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne felt himself extraordinarily thrilled by this
+recital, and the more he examined the mysterious
+markings on the sheet the more interested he grew. He had
+always had a <i>penchant</i> for puzzles, and ciphers appealed
+to him as being perhaps the most alluring kind of puzzles
+extant. Particularly did this cipher attract him because of
+the circumstances under which it had been brought to his
+notice. He longed to get to grips with it, and he looked
+forward with keen delight to a long afternoon and evening
+over it with Joan Merrill, whose interest in it would, he
+felt sure, be no whit less than his own.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly, he thought, his former enemies had made a
+good beginning. So far they were playing the game, and he
+began to wonder if he had not to some extent misjudged
+them, and if the evil characters given them by the gloomy
+Speedwell were not tinged by that despondent individual’s
+jaundiced outlook on life in general.</p>
+
+<p>Dangle had left the room, and he now returned with a
+bottle of whisky and a box of cigars.</p>
+
+<p>“A drink and a cigar to cement our alliance, Mr.
+Cheyne,” he proposed, “and then I think our business will
+be done.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne hesitated, while a vision of the private room in
+the Edgecombe Hotel rose in his memory. Dangle read his
+thoughts, for he smiled and went on:</p>
+
+<p>“I see you don’t quite trust us yet, and I don’t know that
+I can blame you. But we really are all right this time.
+Examine these tumblers and then pour out the stuff
+yourself, and we’ll drink ours first. We must get you convinced
+of our goodwill.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne hesitated, but Dangle insisting, he demonstrated
+to his satisfaction that his companions drank the same
+mixture as himself. Then Dangle opened the cigar box.</p>
+
+<p>“These are specially good, though I say it myself. The
+box was given to Blessington by a rich West Indian
+planter. We only smoke them on state occasions, such as the
+present. Won’t you take one?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne felt it would be churlish to refuse, and soon the
+three were puffing such tobacco as Cheyne at all events had
+seldom before smoked. Sime then excused himself, explaining
+that though business might be neglected it could not be
+entirely ignored, and Cheyne, thereupon taking the hint,
+said that he too must be off.</p>
+
+<p>“Tomorrow we shall be kept late in town,” Dangle
+explained, as they stood on the doorstep, “but the next
+evening we shall be here. Will you and Miss Merrill come
+down and report progress, and let us have a council of
+war?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne agreed and was turning away, when Dangle
+made a sudden gesture.</p>
+
+<p>“By George! I was forgetting,” he cried. “Wait a
+second, Mr. Cheyne.”</p>
+
+<p>He disappeared back into the house, returning a
+moment later with a small purse, which he handed to
+Cheyne.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you happen to know if that is Miss Merrill’s?” he
+inquired. “It was found beside the chair in which we
+placed her last night when we carried her in.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne recognized the article at once. He had
+frequently seen Joan use it.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it’s hers,” he answered, to which Dangle replied
+asking if he would take it for her.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne slipped the purse into his pocket, and next
+moment he was walking along Dalton Road towards the
+station, free, well, and with the tracing in his pocket. Until
+that moment, in the inner recesses of his consciousness
+doubt of the <i>bona fides</i> of the trio had lingered. Until
+then the fear that he was to be the victim of some
+plausible trick had dwelt in his heart. But now at last he
+was convinced. Had the men desired to harm him they
+had had a perfect opportunity. He had been for the last
+hour entirely in their power. No one knew where he had
+gone, and they could with the greatest ease have
+murdered him, and either hidden his body about the house or
+garden or removed it in the car during the night. Yes, this
+time he believed their story. It was eminently reasonable,
+and as a matter of fact, it had been pretty well proved by
+their actions, as well as by the facts that he had learned
+at the Admiralty and elsewhere. They were at a standstill
+because they couldn’t read the cipher, and they really did
+want, as they said, the help of his and Joan’s fresh brains.
+From their point of view they had done a wise thing in
+thus approaching him—indeed, a masterly thing. Cheyne
+was not conceited and he did not consider his own mental
+powers phenomenal, but he knew he was good at puzzles,
+and at the very least, he and Joan were of average
+intelligence. Moreover, they were the only other persons who
+knew of the cipher, and it was the soundest strategy to turn
+their antagonism into cooperation.</p>
+
+<p>He reached North Wembley to find a train about to start
+for Town, and some half hour later he was walking up
+the platform at Euston. He looked at his watch. It was
+barely eleven. An hour would elapse before Joan would
+reach her rooms, and that meant that he had more than
+half an hour to while away before going to meet her. It
+occurred to him that in his excitement he had forgotten
+to breakfast, and though he was not hungry, he thought
+another cup of coffee would not be unacceptable.
+Moreover, he could at the same time have a look over the
+cipher. He therefore went to the refreshment room, gave
+his order, and sat down at a table in a secluded corner.
+Then drawing the mysterious sheet from his pocket, he
+began to examine it.</p>
+
+<p>As he leaned forward over his coffee he felt Joan’s purse
+in his pocket, and suddenly fearful lest in his eagerness to
+tell her his experiences he should forget to give it to her,
+he took it out and laid it on the table, intending to carry
+it in his hand until he met her. Then he returned to his
+study of the tracing.</p>
+
+<p>There are those who tell us that in this world there are
+no trifles: that every event, however unimportant it may
+appear, is preordained and weighty as every other. On this
+bright spring morning in the first class refreshment room
+at Euston, Cheyne was to meet with a demonstration of
+the truth of this assertion which left him marveling and
+humbly thankful. For there took place what seemed to be
+a trifling thing, and yet that trifle proved to be the most
+important event that had ever taken place, or was to take
+place, in his life.</p>
+
+<p>When he took his first sip of coffee he found that he
+had forgotten to put sugar in it, and when he looked at the
+sugar bowl he saw that by the merest chance it was empty.
+An empty sugar bowl. A trifle that, if ever there was one!
+And yet nothing of more supreme moment had ever
+happened to Cheyne than the finding of that empty bowl on
+his table at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>The sugar bowl, then, being empty, he picked it up with
+his free hand and carried it across to the counter to ask
+the barmaid to fill it. Scarcely had he done so when there
+came from behind him an appalling explosion. There was
+a reverberating crash mingled with the tinkle of falling
+glass, while a sharp blast of air swept past him, laden with
+the pungent smell of some burned chemical. He wheeled
+round, the shrill screams of the barmaids in his ears, to see
+the corner of the room where he had been sitting, in
+complete wreckage. Through a fog of smoke and dust he saw
+that his table and chair were nonexistent, neighboring
+tables and chairs were overturned, the window was gone,
+hat-racks, pictures, wall advertisements were heaped in
+broken and torn confusion, while over all was spread a
+coat of plaster which had been torn from the wall. On the
+floor lay a man who had been seated at an adjoining table,
+the only other occupant of that part of the room.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment no one moved, and then there came a rush
+of feet from without, and a number of persons burst into
+the room. Porters, ticket collectors, a guard, and several
+members of the public came crowding in, staring with
+round eyes and open mouths at the debris. Eager hands
+helped to raise the prostrate man, who appeared to be more
+or less seriously injured, while hurried questions were
+bandied from lip to lip.</p>
+
+<p>It did not need the barmaid’s half hysterical cry: “Why,
+it was your purse; I saw it go,” to make clear to Cheyne
+what had happened, and as he grasped the situation his
+heart melted within him and a great fear took possession
+of his mind. Once again these dastardly scoundrels had
+hoaxed him! Their oaths, their protestations of friendship,
+their talk of an alliance—all were a sham! They were out
+to murder him. The purse they had evidently stolen from
+Joan, filling it with explosives, with some time
+agent—probably chemical—to make it go off at the proper
+moment. They had given it to him under conditions which
+made it a practical certainty that at that moment it would
+be in his pocket, when he would be blown to pieces
+without leaving any clue as to the agency which had wrought
+his destruction. He suddenly felt sick as he thought of the
+whole hideous business.</p>
+
+<p>But it was not contemplation of the fate he had so
+narrowly escaped that sent his heart leaping into his throat
+in deadly panic. If these unspeakable ruffians had tried to
+murder him with their hellish explosives, what about Joan
+Merrill? All the talk about driving her back to her rooms
+must have been mere eyewash. She must be in deadly
+peril—if it was not too late: if she was not already—Merciful
+Heaven, he could not frame the thought!—if she
+was not already <em>dead</em>! He burst into a cold sweat, as the
+idea burned itself into his consciousness. And then suddenly
+he knew the reason. He loved her! He loved this girl who
+had saved his life and who had already proved herself such
+a splendid comrade and helpmeet. His own life, the
+wretched secret, the miserable pursuit of wealth, victory
+over the gang—what were these worth? They were
+forgotten—they were nothing—they were less than nothing! It
+was Joan and Joan’s safety that filled his mind. “Oh,
+God,” he murmured in an agony, “save her, save her! No
+matter about anything else, only save her!”</p>
+
+<p>He stood, leaning against the counter, overcome with
+these thoughts. Then the need for immediate action
+brought him to his senses. Perhaps it was not too late.
+Perhaps something might yet be done. Scotland Yard!
+That was his only hope. Instantly he must go to Scotland
+Yard and implore the help of the authorities.</p>
+
+<p>He glanced round. Persons in authority were entering
+and pushing to the front of the now dense crowd. That
+surely was the stationmaster, and there was a policeman.
+Cheyne did not want to be detained to answer questions.
+He slipped rapidly into the throng, and by making way
+for those behind to press forward, soon found himself on
+its outskirts. In a few seconds he was on the platform and
+in a couple of minutes he was in a taxi driving towards
+Westminster as fast as a promise of double fare could take
+him.</p>
+
+<p>He raced into the great building on the Embankment
+and rather incoherently stated his business. He was asked
+to sit down, and after waiting what seemed to him
+interminable ages, but what was really something under five
+minutes, he was told that Inspector French would see him.
+Would he please come this way.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch13">
+
+<h2>Chapter XIII. <br> Inspector French Takes Charge</h2>
+
+<p>Cheyne was ushered into a small, plainly furnished room,
+in which at a table-desk was seated a rather stout,
+clean-shaven man with a cheerful, good humored face and the
+suggestion of a twinkle about his eye. He stood up as
+Cheyne entered, looked him over critically with a pair of
+very keen dark blue eyes, and then smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Maxwell Cheyne?” he said genially. “I am Inspector
+French. You wish to consult us? Now just sit down
+there and tell me your trouble, and we’ll do what we can
+for you.”</p>
+
+<p>His manner was kindly and pleasant and did much to
+set Cheyne at his ease. The young man had been rather
+dreading his visit, expecting to be met with the harsh,
+incredulous, unsympathetic attitude of officialdom. But
+this inspector, with his easy manners, and his apparently
+human outlook, was quite different from his anticipation.
+He felt drawn to him and realized with relief that at least
+he would get a sympathetic hearing.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you,” he said, trying to speak calmly. “It’s very
+good of you, I’m sure. I’m in great trouble—not about
+myself, that is, but about my—my friend, a lady, Miss
+Joan Merrill. I’m afraid she is in terrible danger, if indeed
+it is not too late.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell me the details.” The man was all attention, and
+his quiet decisive manner induced confidence.</p>
+
+<p>Curbing his impatience, Cheyne related his adventures.
+In the briefest outline he told of the drugging in the
+Plymouth hotel, of the burglary at Warren Lodge, of his
+involuntary trip on the <i>Enid</i>, of his journey to London and his
+adventure in the house in Hopefield Avenue. Then he
+described Joan Merrill’s welcome intervention, his
+convalescence in the hospital, the compact between himself
+and Joan, his visit to Speedwell, and his burglary of
+Earlswood. He recounted Dangle’s appearance as an envoy, the
+meeting with the gang, and the explosion at Euston, and
+finally voiced the terrible suggestion which this latter
+contained as to the possible fate of Joan.</p>
+
+<p>Inspector French listened to his recital with an
+appearance of the keenest interest.</p>
+
+<p>“You have certainly had an unusual experience, Mr.
+Cheyne,” he remarked. “I don’t know that I can recall a
+similar case. Now I think we may take it that Miss
+Merrill’s safety is our first concern. We shall go out to this
+house, Earlswood, and see if we can learn anything about
+her there. The other activities of the gang must wait.
+Excuse me a moment.” He gave some orders through his
+desk telephone, resuming: “I should think the house has
+probably been vacated: these people would cover their
+traces until they learned from the papers that you had
+been killed. However, we’ll soon know that. Wait here
+until I arrange about warrants, and then we’ll start.”</p>
+
+<p>He disappeared for some minutes, while Cheyne fretted
+and chafed and tried to control his impatience. Then he
+returned, and slipping an automatic pistol into his pocket,
+invited Cheyne to follow him.</p>
+
+<p>He led the way downstairs and out into a courtyard in
+the great building. Two motorcars were just drawing up
+at the curb, while at the same moment no less than eight
+plain clothes men appeared from another door. The party
+having taken their places, the two vehicles slid out through
+a covered way into the traffic of the town.</p>
+
+<p>“We shall go round to Chelsea first,” French explained,
+“and make sure there is no news of Miss Merrill.”</p>
+
+<p>As they ran quickly through the busy streets, French
+asked a series of questions on points of Cheyne’s
+statement upon which he desired further information. “If this
+trip draws blank, as I fear it will,” he observed, “I shall
+want you to tell me your story again, this time with all
+the detail you can possibly put into it. For the moment
+there’s not time for that.”</p>
+
+<p>At Horne Terrace there was no trace or tidings of
+Joan. It was by this time half past twelve, half an hour
+after the time at which Blessington had promised she
+should be there, and Cheyne felt all his forebodings
+confirmed. But he was not surprised, feeling but the more
+eager to push on to Wembley.</p>
+
+<p>On the way French made him draw a sketch map of
+the position of Earlswood, and on nearing his goal he
+stopped the cars, and calling his men together, explained
+exactly what was to be done. Then telling Cheyne to sit
+with the driver and direct him to the front gate, they
+again mounted and went forward. At a good rate they
+swung into Dalton Road, and Cheyne pointing the way,
+his car stopped at the gate, while the other ran on down
+the cross-road to the lane at the back. The men sprang
+out, and in less time than it takes to tell, the house was
+surrounded.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne followed French as he hurried up to the door
+and gave a thundering knock. There was no answer, and
+walking round the house, the two men examined the
+windows. These being all fastened, French turned his
+attention to the back door, and after two or three minutes’
+work with a bunch of skeleton keys the bolt shot back,
+and followed by Cheyne and two of his men, he entered
+the house.</p>
+
+<p>A short search revealed the fact that the birds had
+flown, hurriedly, it seemed, as everything had been left
+exactly as during Cheyne’s visit. On the table in the
+sitting room stood the glasses from which they had drunk
+their whisky, the box of cigars lay open beside them and
+the chairs were still drawn up to the table. But there was
+no sign of Sime or Dangle, and a hurried look round
+revealed no clue to their whereabouts.</p>
+
+<p>“I feared as much,” French commented, as he sent a
+constable to call in the men who were surrounding the
+house, “but we have still two strings to our bow.” He
+turned to the others, and rapidly gave his orders. “You,
+Hinckston and Tucker, remain here and arrest any one
+who enters this house. Simmons, go to Locke Street, off
+Southampton Row, and find Speedwell, of Horton &amp;
+Lavender’s Detective Agency. You know him, don’t you?
+Well, find him and tell him this affair has developed into
+attempted murder and abduction, and ask him can he
+give any information to the Yard. Tell him I’m in charge.
+The rest of you come with me to—what did Speedwell
+give you as Sime’s address, Mr. Cheyne? . . . All right, I
+have it here—to 12 Colton Street, Putney. We shall carry
+out the same plan there, surround the house, and then
+enter and search it. All got that? Come along, Mr.
+Cheyne.”</p>
+
+<p>They hurried back to the cars and were soon
+running—somewhat over the legal speed—back to town. French,
+though he had shown energy enough at Earlswood, was
+willing to chat now in a pleasant, leisurely way, though
+he continued to interlard his remarks with questions on the
+details of Cheyne’s story. Then he took over the tracing,
+and examined it curiously. “I’ll have a go at this later,”
+he said, as he put it in his pocket, “but I can scarcely
+believe they would have given you the genuine article.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne would have questioned this opinion, reminding
+his companion he had seen the tracing pinned up to be
+photographed in the house in Hopefield Avenue, but just
+then they swung into Colton Street, and the time for
+conversation had passed. Contrary to his expectation they ran
+past No. 12 without slackening, turned down the first side
+street beyond it, and there came to a stand.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s the end of the passage behind the house,”
+French pointed when his men had dismounted. “Carter
+and Jones and Marshall go down there and watch the
+back. No doubt you counted and know it’s the eighth
+house. You other two men and you, Mr. Cheyne, come
+with me.”</p>
+
+<p>He turned back into Colton Street and with his three
+followers strode rapidly up to No. 12. It was like its
+neighbors, a small two-storied single terrace house of
+old-fashioned design. Indeed the narrow road, with its two grimy
+rows of almost working-class dwellings, seemed more like
+one of those terrible streets built in the last century in the
+slum districts of provincial towns, than a bit of
+mid-London.</p>
+
+<p>A peremptory knock from French producing no result,
+he had once more recourse to his skeleton keys. This door
+was easier to negotiate than the last, and in less than a
+minute it swung open and the four men entered the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>On the right of the hall was a tiny sitting room, and
+there they found the remains of what appeared to have
+been a hastily prepared meal. Four chairs were drawn up
+to the small central table, on which were part of a loaf,
+butter, an empty sardine tin, egg shells, two cups containing
+tea leaves and two glasses smelling of whisky. French
+put his hand on the teapot. “Feel that, Mr. Cheyne,” he
+exclaimed. “They can’t be far away.”</p>
+
+<p>The teapot was warm, and when Cheyne looked into
+the kitchen adjoining, he found that the kettle on the gas
+ring was also warm, though the ring itself had grown cold.
+If the four lunchers were Blessington and Co., as seemed
+indubitable, they must indeed be close by, and Cheyne
+grew hot with eager excitement as he thought that French
+and he might be within reasonable sight of their goal.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile French and his men had carried out a rapid
+search of the house, without result except to prove that
+once more the birds had flown. But as to the direction
+which their flight had taken there was no clue.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t expect we’ll see them back,” French said to
+Cheyne, “but we must take no chances.” He turned to his
+men. “Jones and Marshall, stay here in the house and arrest
+any one who enters. You, Carter, make inquiries in these
+houses to the right, and you, Hobbs, do the same to the
+left. Come, Mr. Cheyne, you and I will try the other side
+of the street.”</p>
+
+<p>They crossed to the house opposite, and French knocked.
+The door was opened by a young woman who seemed
+thrilled by French’s statement that he was a police officer
+making inquiries about the occupiers of No. 12, but who
+was unable to give him any useful information about them.
+A man lived there—she believed his name was Sime—but
+she did not know either himself or anything about him.
+No, she hadn’t seen any recent arrivals or departures. She
+had been engaged at the back of the house during the
+whole morning and had not looked out across the street.
+Yes, she believed Sime lived alone except for an elderly
+housekeeper. As far as she knew he was quite respectable,
+at least she had never heard anything against him.</p>
+
+<p>Politely thanking her, French tried the next house. Here
+he found a small girl who said she had looked out some
+half an hour previously and had seen a yellow motor
+standing before No. 12. But she had not seen it arrive or depart,
+nor anyone get in or out.</p>
+
+<p>French tried five houses without result, but at the sixth
+he had a stroke of luck.</p>
+
+<p>In this house it appeared that there was a chronic
+invalid, a sister of the woman who opened the door. This
+poor creature was confined permanently to bed, and in
+the hope of relieving the tedium of the days, she had had
+the bed drawn close to her window, so as to extract what
+amusement she could from the life of the street. If there
+had been any unusual happenings in front of No. 12, she
+would certainly have witnessed them. Yes, the woman
+was sure her sister would see the visitors.</p>
+
+<p>“Lucky chance, that,” French said, as they waited to
+know if they might go up. “If this woman’s eyes and brain
+are unaffected she’ll have become an accurate observer,
+and we’ll probably learn all there is to know.”</p>
+
+<p>In a moment the sister appeared beckoning, and going
+upstairs they found in a small front room a bed drawn up
+to the window, in which lay a superior looking elderly
+woman with a pale patient face, lined by suffering, in
+which shone a pair of large dark intelligent eyes. She was
+propped up the better to see out, and her face lighted up
+with interest at her unexpected callers, as she laid down
+among the books on the coverlet an intricate looking
+piece of fancy sewing.</p>
+
+<p>Inspector French bowed to her.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d like to say how much I appreciate your kindness in
+letting us come up, madam,” he said with his pleasant
+kindly smile, “but when you hear that we are trying to
+find a young lady who we fear has been kidnaped, I am
+sure you will be glad to help us. The matter is connected
+with No. 12 opposite. Can you tell me if any persons
+arrived or left it this morning?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I can,” the invalid replied in cultivated tones—a
+lady born, though fallen on evil days, thought Cheyne—“I
+like to watch the people passing and I did notice
+arrivals and departures at No. 12. About, let me see—half
+past eleven, or perhaps a minute or two later a motor
+drove up to No. 12, a yellow car, fair size and covered in.
+Three men got out and went into the house. One was Mr.
+Sime, who lives there, the others I didn’t know. Mr. Sime
+opened the door with his latch-key. In a couple of minutes
+one of the strangers came out again, got into the car, and
+drove off.”</p>
+
+<p>“That the car you saw outside Earlswood, Mr. Cheyne?”
+asked French.</p>
+
+<p>“Certain to be,” Cheyne nodded. “It was a yellow
+covered-in car of medium size, No. XL7305.”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t observe the number,” the lady remarked. “The
+bonnet was facing towards me.”</p>
+
+<p>“What was the driver like, madam?” queried Cheyne.</p>
+
+<p>“One of Mr. Sime’s companions drove. He was short
+and rather stout, with a round face, and what, I believe,
+is called a toothbrush mustache.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s Blessington all right. And was the third man of
+medium height and build, with a clean-shaven, somewhat
+rugged face?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that exactly describes him.”</p>
+
+<p>“And that’s Dangle. There’s no question about the
+party, Inspector.”</p>
+
+<p>“None. Then, madam, you saw—?”</p>
+
+<p>“That, as I said, was about half-past eleven. About
+half-past one the man you have called Blessington came back
+with the car. He got out, left it, and went into the house.
+In about a quarter of an hour he came out again and
+started his engine. Then the other two men followed,
+assisting a young lady who appeared to be very weak and
+ill. She seemed scarcely able to walk, and they almost
+carried her. Another girl followed, who drew the door of the
+house after her.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne started on hearing these words, and looked with
+an agonized expression at the Inspector. “What were they
+like, these women?” he breathed through his dry lips.</p>
+
+<p>But both men knew the answer. The girl assisted out by
+Sime and Dangle was undoubtedly Joan Merrill, and the
+other equally certainly was Susan Dangle.</p>
+
+<p>“She was lame—the one you thought ill?” Cheyne
+persisted. “She had twisted her ankle.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps so,” the lady returned, “but I do not think so.
+She seemed to me to step equally well on each foot. It was
+more as if she was half asleep or very weak. Her head
+hung forward and she did not seem to notice where she
+was going.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne made a gesture of despair.</p>
+
+<p>“Heavens above!” he cried hoarsely. “What have they
+done to her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Drugged her,” French answered succinctly. “But you
+should take courage from that, Mr. Cheyne. It looks as if
+they didn’t mean to do her a personal injury. Yes,
+madam?”</p>
+
+<p>Before the invalid could speak Cheyne went on, a
+puzzled note in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>“But look here,” he said slowly, “I don’t understand
+this. You say that the sick lady was wearing a fur coat?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, a musquash fur.”</p>
+
+<p>“But—” He looked at French in perplexity. “Miss
+Merrill has a fur coat like that—I’ve seen it. But she wasn’t
+wearing it last night. Can it be someone else after all?”
+His voice took on a dawning eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>French shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t build too much on that, Mr. Cheyne. They may
+have lent her a coat.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but why should they? She had a coat last night, a
+perfectly warm coat of brown cloth. She wouldn’t want
+another.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps her own got muddy when she fell. We’ll have
+to leave it at that for the moment. We’ll consider it later.
+Let’s get on now and hear what this lady can tell us. Yes,
+madam, if you please?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am afraid there is not much more to be told. All five
+got into the car and drove off.”</p>
+
+<p>“In which direction?”</p>
+
+<p>“Eastwards.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is to say, they have just left about half an hour.
+We were only fifteen minutes behind them, Mr. Cheyne.”</p>
+
+<p>He got up to go, but the lady motioned him back to his
+seat.</p>
+
+<p>“There is one other thing I have just remembered,” she
+said. “It may or may not have something to do with the
+affair. Last night—it must have been about half-past
+eleven—I heard a motor in the street. It stopped for
+about ten minutes, though the engine ran all the time, then
+went off again. I didn’t look out, but now that I come to
+think about it it sounded as if it might be standing at No.
+12. Of course you understand that is only a guess, but
+motorcars are somewhat rare visitors to this street, and
+there may have been some connection.”</p>
+
+<p>“Extremely probable, I should think, madam,” French
+commented. He rose. “Now we must be off to act on what
+you have told us. I needn’t say that you have placed us
+very greatly in your debt.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was but little I could do,” the lady returned. “I do
+hope you may be able to help that poor girl. I should be
+so glad to hear that she is all right.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was touched by this unexpected sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>“You may count on my letting you know, madam,” he
+said, and then thinking of the terribly monotonous
+existence led by the poor soul, he went on warmly: “I
+should like, if I might, to call and tell you all about it, but
+if I am prevented I shall certainly write. May I know what
+name to address to?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Sproule, 17 Colton Street. I should be glad to see
+you if you are in this district, but I couldn’t think of taking
+you out of your way.”</p>
+
+<p>A few moments later French had collected his three
+remaining men, and was being driven rapidly to the
+nearest telephone call office. There he rang up the Yard,
+repeated the descriptions of the car and of each of its
+occupants, and asked for the police force generally to be
+advised that they were wanted, particularly the men on
+duty at railway stations and wharves, not only in London,
+but in the surrounding country.</p>
+
+<p>“Now we’ll have a shot at picking up the trail
+ourselves,” he went on to Cheyne when he had sent his
+message. He re-entered the car, calling to the driver: “Get
+back and find the men on point duty round about Colton
+Street.”</p>
+
+<p>Of the four men they interviewed, three had not noticed
+the yellow car. The fourth, on a beat in the thoroughfare
+at the eastern end of Colton Street, had seen a car of the
+size and color in question going eastwards at about the
+hour the party had left No. 12. There seeming nothing
+abnormal about the vehicle, he had not specially observed
+it or noted the number, but he had looked at the driver,
+and the man he described resembled Blessington.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s probably it all right,” French commented, “but
+it doesn’t help us a great deal. If they were going to any of
+the stations or steamers, or to practically anywhere in
+town, this is the way they would pass. Let us try a step
+further.”</p>
+
+<p>Keeping in the same general direction they searched for
+other men on point duty, but though after a great deal of
+running backwards and forwards, they found all in the
+immediate neighborhood that the car would have been
+likely to pass, none of them had noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ve lost them, I’m afraid,” French said at last. “We
+had better go back to the Yard. As soon as that
+description gets out we may have news at any minute.”</p>
+
+<p>A quarter of an hour later they passed once more
+through the corridors of the great building which houses
+the C.I.D., and reached French’s room. There sitting
+waiting for them was the melancholy private detective,
+Speedwell. He rose as they entered.</p>
+
+<p>“Afternoon, Mr. French. Afternoon, Mr. Cheyne,” he
+said ingratiatingly, rubbing his hands together. “I got your
+message, Mr. French, and I thought I’d better call round.
+Of course I’ll tell you anything I can to help.”</p>
+
+<p>French beamed on him.</p>
+
+<p>“Now that was good of you, Speedwell; very good. I’ll
+not forget it. Did Simmons tell you what had happened?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not in detail—only that Blessington, Sime, and the
+Dangles were wanted.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Mr. Cheyne here and Miss Merrill were out there
+last night,” he shook his head reproachfully at Cheyne
+while a twinkle showed in his eyes, “and your friends got
+hold of Miss Merrill and we can’t find her. Mr. Cheyne
+they enticed into the house with a fair story. They led him
+to believe that Miss Merrill would be in her studio when
+he got back to town and gave him her purse, which they
+said she had dropped. It contained a time bomb, and only
+the merest chance saved Mr. Cheyne from being blown
+to bits. There are charges against the quartet of attempted
+murder of Mr. Cheyne, and of abduction of Miss Merrill.
+Can you help us at all?”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“I doubt it, Mr. French, I doubt it, sir. I found out a
+little, not very much. But all the information I have is at
+your disposal.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne stared at him.</p>
+
+<p>“But how can that be?” he exclaimed. “You were in
+their confidence—to some extent at all events. Surely you
+got some hint of what they were after?”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell made a deferential movement, and his smile
+became still more oily and ingratiating.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Mr. Cheyne, sir, you mustn’t think too much of
+that. That was what we might call in the way of business.”
+He glanced sideways at Cheyne from his little foxy
+close-set eyes. “You can’t complain, sir, but what I answered
+your questions, and you’ll admit you got value for your
+money.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t understand you,” Cheyne returned sharply. “Do
+you mean that that tale you told me was a lie, and that
+you weren’t employed by these people to find the man who
+burgled their house?”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell rubbed his hands together more vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>“A little business expedient, sir, merely an ordinary little
+business expedient. It would be a foolish man who would
+not display his wares to the best advantage. I’m sure, sir,
+you’ll agree with that.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne looked at him fiercely for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>“You infernal rogue!” he burst out hotly. “Then your
+tale to me was a tissue of lies, and on the strength of it you
+cheated me out of my money! Now you’ll hand that £150
+back! Do you hear that?”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell’s smile became the essence of craftiness.</p>
+
+<p>“Not so fast, sir, not so fast,” he purred. “There’s no
+need to use unpleasant language. You asked for a thing
+and agreed to pay a certain price. You got what you asked
+for, and you paid the price you agreed. There was no
+cheating there.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne was about to retort, but French, suave and
+courteous, broke in:</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we can talk of that afterwards. I think, Mr.
+Cheyne, that Mr. Speedwell has made us a satisfactory
+offer. He says he will tell us everything he knows. For my
+part I am obliged to him for that, as he is not bound to
+say anything at all. I think you will agree that we ought
+to thank him for the position he is taking up, and to hear
+what he has to say. Now, Speedwell, if you are ready. Take
+a cigar first, and make yourself comfortable.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mr. French. I am always glad, as you
+know, sir, to assist the Yard or the police. I haven’t much
+to tell you, but here is the whole of it.”</p>
+
+<p>He lit his cigar, settled himself in his chair, and began
+to speak.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch14">
+
+<h2>Chapter XIV. <br> The Clue of the Clay-marked Shoe</h2>
+
+<p>“You know, Mr. French,” said Speedwell, “about my
+being called in by the manager of the Edgecombe in
+Plymouth when Mr. Cheyne was drugged? Mr. Cheyne
+has told you about that, sir?” French nodded and the
+other went on: “Then I need only tell you what Mr.
+Cheyne presumably does not know. I may just explain
+before beginning that I came into contact with Mr.
+Jesse, the manager, over some diamonds which were lost
+by a visitor to the hotel and which I had the good fortune
+to recover.</p>
+
+<p>“The first point that struck me about Mr. Cheyne’s
+little affair was, How did the unknown man know Mr.
+Cheyne was going to lunch at that hotel on that day? I
+found out from Mr. Cheyne that he hadn’t mentioned his
+visit to Plymouth to anyone outside of his own
+household, and I found out from Mrs. and Miss Cheyne that
+they hadn’t either. But Miss Cheyne said it had been
+discussed at lunch, and that gave me the tip. If these
+statements were all O.K. it followed that the leakage must
+have been through the servants and I had a chat with
+both, just to see what they were like. The two were quite
+different. The cook was good-humored and stupid and
+easy going, and wouldn’t have the sense to run a
+conspiracy with anyone, but the parlormaid was an able
+young woman as well up as any I’ve met. So it looked as
+if it must be her.</p>
+
+<p>“Then I thought over the burglary, and it seemed to me
+that the burglars must have got inside help, and if so, there
+again Susan was the girl. Of course there was the tying up,
+but that would be the natural way to work a blind. I
+noticed that the cook’s wrists were swollen, but Susan’s
+weren’t marked at all, so I questioned the cook, and I got
+a bit of information out of her that pretty well proved
+the thing. She said she heard the burglars ring and heard
+Susan go to the door. But she said it was three or four
+minutes before Susan screamed. Now if Susan’s story was
+true she would have screamed far sooner than that, for,
+according to her, the men had only asked could they write
+a letter when they seized her. So that again looked like
+Susan. You follow me, sir?”</p>
+
+<p>Again French nodded, while Cheyne broke in: “You
+never told me anything of that.”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell smiled once more his crafty smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, no, Mr. Cheyne, I didn’t mention it certainly. It
+was only a theory, you understand. I thought I’d wait till
+I was sure.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, gentlemen, there it was. Someone wanted some
+paper that Mr. Cheyne had—it was almost certainly a
+paper, as they searched his pocketbook—and Susan was
+involved. I hung about Warren Lodge, and all the time
+I was watching Susan. I found she wrote frequent letters
+and always posted them herself: so that was suspicious too.
+Then one day when she was out I slipped up to her room
+and searched around. I found a writing case in her box
+of much too good a kind for a servant, and a blotting-paper
+pad with a lot of ink marks. When I put the pad
+before a mirror I made out an address written several
+times: ‘Mr. J. Dangle, Laurel Lodge, Hopefield Avenue,
+Hendon.’ So that was that.”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell paused and glanced at his auditors in turn,
+but neither replying, he resumed:</p>
+
+<p>“I generally try to make a friend when I’m on a case:
+they’re useful if you want some special information. So I
+chummed up with the housemaid at Mrs. Hazelton’s—friends
+of Mr. Cheyne’s—live quite close by. I told this
+girl I was on the burglary job, and that there would be big
+money in it if the thieves were caught, and that if she
+helped me she should get her share. I told her I had my
+suspicions of Susan, said I was going to London, and
+asked her would she watch Susan and keep me advised of
+how things went on. She said yes, and I gave her a couple
+of pounds on account, just to keep her eager, while I came
+back to town to look after Dangle.”</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the keen interest with which he was listening
+to these revelations, Cheyne felt himself seething with
+indignant anger. How he had been hoodwinked by this
+sneaking scoundrel, with his mean ingratiating smile and
+his assumption of melancholy! He could have kicked
+himself as he remembered how he had tried to cheer and
+encourage the mock pessimist. He wondered which was
+the more hateful, the man’s deceit or the cynical way he
+was now telling of it. But, apparently unconscious of the
+antagonism which he had aroused, Speedwell calmly and,
+Cheyne thought disgustedly, a trifle proudly, continued his
+narrative.</p>
+
+<p>“I soon found that James Dangle lived at Laurel Lodge.
+He was alone except for a daily char, but up till a short
+while earlier his sister had kept house for him. When I
+learned that his sister had left Laurel Lodge on the same
+day that Susan took up her place at Warren Lodge, I soon
+guessed who Susan really was.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought that when these two would go to so much
+trouble, the thing they were after must be pretty well
+worth while, and I thought it might pay me if I could
+find out what it was. So I shadowed Dangle, and learned
+a good deal about him. I learned that he was constantly
+meeting two other men, so I shadowed them and learned
+they were Blessington and Sime. Blessington I guessed first
+time I saw him was the man who had drugged you, Mr.
+Cheyne, for he exactly covered your and the manager’s
+descriptions. It seemed clear then that these three and
+Susan Dangle—if her real name was Susan—were in the
+conspiracy to get whatever you had.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what I would like to have explained,” Cheyne burst
+in, “was why you didn’t tell me what you had discovered.
+You were paid to do it. What did you think you were
+taking that hotel manager’s money for?”</p>
+
+<p>Speedwell made a gesture of deferential disagreement.</p>
+
+<p>“I scarcely think that you can find fault with me there,
+Mr. Cheyne,” he answered with his ingratiating smile. “I
+was investigating: I had not reached the end of my
+investigation. As you will see, sir, my investigation took a
+somewhat unexpected turn—a very unexpected turn, I
+might almost say, which left me in a bit of doubt as to how
+to act. But you’ll hear.”</p>
+
+<p>Inspector French had been sitting quite still at his desk,
+but now he stretched out his hand, took a cigar from the
+box, and as he lit it, murmured: “Go on, Speedwell.
+Sounds like a novel. I’m enjoying it. Aren’t you, Mr.
+Cheyne?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne made noncommittal noises, and Speedwell,
+looking pleased, continued:</p>
+
+<p>“One evening, nearly two months ago, I got back late
+from another job and I found a wire waiting for me. It
+was from Mrs. Hazelton’s housemaid and it said:
+‘Maxwell Cheyne disappeared and Susan left Warren Lodge
+for London.’ I thought to myself: ‘Bully for you, Jane,’
+and then I thought: ‘Susan will be turning to Brother
+James. I’ll go out to Hopefield Avenue and see if I can
+pick anything up.’ So I went out. It was about half-past
+ten when I arrived. I found the front of the house in
+darkness, but an upper window at the back was lighted
+up. There was a lane along behind the houses, you
+understand, Mr. French, and a bit of garden between them and
+the lane. The gate into the garden was open, and I slipped
+in and began to tiptoe towards the house. Then I heard
+soft steps coming in after me, and I turned aside and hid
+behind a large shrub to see what would happen. And then
+I saw something that interested me very much. A man
+came in very quietly and I saw in the faint moonlight that
+he was carrying a ladder.” There was an exclamation
+from Cheyne. “He put the ladder to the lighted window
+and climbed up, and then I saw who it was. I needn’t tell
+you, Mr. Cheyne, I was surprised to see you, and I waited
+behind the bush for what would happen. I saw and heard
+the whole thing: the party coming down to supper, your
+getting in, Sime coming out and seeing the ladder, the
+alarm, your coming out, and them getting you on the head
+in the garden. You’ll perhaps think, Mr. Cheyne, that I
+should have come out and lent you a hand, but after all,
+sir, I don’t know that you could claim that you had the
+right of it altogether, and besides, it all happened so
+quickly I had no chance to interfere. Well, anyhow they
+knocked you out and then they searched you and took
+a folded paper from your pocket. ‘Thank goodness, we’ve
+got the tracing at all events,’ Dangle said, speaking very
+softly, ‘but now we’re in the soup and no mistake. What
+are we going to do with the confounded fool’s body?’
+They examined the ladder and saw from the contractor’s
+name that it had been brought from the new house, then
+they whispered together and I couldn’t hear what was
+said, but at last Sime said: ‘Right, we’ll fix it so that it
+will look as if he fell off the ladder.’ Then the three men
+picked you up, Mr. Cheyne, and carried you out down the
+lane. Susan stood in the garden waiting, and I had to sit
+tight behind the bush. In about ten minutes the men came
+back and then Sime took the ladder and carried it away
+down the lane. The others whispered together and then
+Dangle said something to Susan, ending up: ‘It’s in the
+second left hand drawer.’ She went indoors, but came out
+again in a moment with a powerful electric torch.
+Blessington and Dangle then searched for traces of your little
+affair, Mr. Cheyne. They found the marks of the ladder
+butts in the soft grass and smoothed them out, and they
+looked everywhere, I suppose, for footprints or something
+that you might have dropped when you fell. Then Sime
+came back and they all went in and shut the door.”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne snorted angrily.</p>
+
+<p>“It didn’t occur to you, I suppose, to make any effort
+to help me or even find out if I was alive or dead? You
+weren’t going to have any trouble, even if you did become
+an accessory after the fact?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m coming to that, Mr. Cheyne. All in good time,
+sir.” Speedwell rubbed his hands unctuously. “You will
+understand that as long as the garden was occupied I
+couldn’t come out from behind the bush. But directly the
+coast was clear I got out of the garden and turned along
+the lane where they had carried you. I wondered where
+they could have hidden you, and I started searching. I
+remembered what Sime had said about the ladder, so
+I went to the half-built house and had a look around, but I
+couldn’t find you in it. Then I saw you lying back of the
+road fence, but just at that minute I heard footsteps, and
+I stopped behind a pile of bricks till the party would pass.
+But you called out and the lady stopped, and once again
+I couldn’t interfere. I heard the arrangements about the
+taxi, and when the lady went away to get it I slipped out
+and hid where I could see it. In that way I got its number.
+Next day I saw the driver and got out of him where he
+had taken you, and I kept my eye on you and when you
+got better trailed you to Miss Merrill’s. From other people
+living in the flats I found out about her.” After a pause
+he concluded: “And I think, gentlemen, that’s about all I
+have to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>Inspector French slowly expelled a cloud of gray cigar
+smoke from his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>“Really, Speedwell, you have surpassed yourself,” he
+murmured. “Your story, as I told you, sounds like a novel.
+A pity though, that having gone so far you did not go a
+little farther. You did not find out, for example, what
+business this mysterious quartet were plotting?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not, Mr. French,” the man returned earnestly.
+“I gathered that it was connected with ‘the tracing’ that
+Dangle spoke of, and I imagined the tracing was what
+they had been wanting from Mr. Cheyne, and evidently
+had got, but I didn’t get a sight of it, and I have no idea
+of their game.”</p>
+
+<p>“And did you find out nothing that might be a help?
+Where did those three men spend their time? What did
+they do in the daytime?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just what I told Mr. Cheyne, sir. I gave him perfectly
+correct information in everything. Dangle is a town sharp
+and helps run a gambling room in Knightsbridge. Sime is
+another of the same—collects pigeons in the night clubs for
+the others to pluck. Blessington, I got the hint, lived by
+blackmail, but I’ve no proof of this.”</p>
+
+<p>“Anything else?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Mr. French, not that I know. Unless”—he
+hesitated—“unless one thing. It may or may not be important;
+I don’t know. It’s this: Dangle, during these last three
+or four weeks, he’s been away nearly half the time from
+London—on the Continent. I don’t know to what
+country, but it must be France or Belgium or Holland, I should
+think—or maybe Ireland—because he has crossed over
+one night and crossed back the next. I know that because
+of a remark I overheard him make to Sime in a tube lift
+where I was standing just behind him. It was a Wednesday
+and he said: ‘I’m crossing tonight, but I’ll be back
+on Friday morning.’ ”</p>
+
+<p>This seemed to be the sum total of Speedwell’s
+knowledge, or at least all he would divulge, and he
+presently departed, apparently cheered by French’s somewhat
+cryptic declaration that he would not forget the part the
+other had played in the affair. He perhaps would not have
+been so pleased had he heard French’s subsequent
+comments to Cheyne. “A dangerous man, Mr. Cheyne, for an
+amateur to deal with, though he’s too much afraid of the
+Yard to try any monkeying with me. I may tell you in
+confidence that he was dismissed from the force on
+suspicion of taking bribes to let a burglar get away—I
+needn’t say the thing couldn’t be proved, or he would have
+seen the inside of a convict prison, but there was no doubt
+at all that he was guilty. Since that he has been caught
+sailing rather close to the wind, but again he just
+managed to keep himself safe. But the result is, he would do
+anything to curry favor here, and indeed once or twice he
+has been quite useful. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he
+had been blackmailing Blessington &amp; Co. in connection
+with your attempted murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ugh!” Cheyne made a gesture of disgust. “The very
+sight of the man makes me sick.” Then, his look of anxious
+eagerness returning, he went on: “But, Inspector, his
+story is all very well and interesting and all that, but I
+don’t see that it helps us to find Miss Merrill, and that is
+the only thing that matters.”</p>
+
+<p>“The only thing to you, perhaps,” French returned,
+“but not the only thing to me. This whole business looks
+uncommonly like conspiracy for criminal purposes, and if
+so, it automatically concerns the Yard.” He glanced at the
+clock on the wall before his desk. “Let’s see now, it’s just
+five o’clock. Before giving up for the day I should like to
+have a look over Miss Merrill’s room to settle that little
+question of the fur coat, and I should like you to come
+with me. Shall we go now?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne sprang to his feet eagerly. Action was what he
+wanted, and his heart beat more rapidly at the prospect of
+visiting a place where every object would remind him of
+the girl he loved, and whom, in spite of himself, he feared
+he had lost. Impatiently he waited while French put on his
+hat and left word where he could be found in case of need.</p>
+
+<p>Some fifteen minutes later the two men were ascending
+the stairs of the house in Horne Terrace. The door of
+No. 12 was shut, and to Cheyne’s knock there was no
+response.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid you needn’t expect Miss Merrill to have got
+back,” French commented. “I had better open the door.”</p>
+
+<p>He worked at it for a few moments, first with his bunch
+of skeleton keys, then with a bent wire, until the bolt shot
+back, and pushing open the door, they entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>It was just as Cheyne had last seen it except that the
+kettle and tea equipage had been tidied away. French
+stood in the middle of the floor, glancing keenly round
+on the contents. Then he moved to the other door.</p>
+
+<p>“This her bedroom?” he inquired, as he pushed it open
+and looked in.</p>
+
+<p>As Cheyne followed him into the tiny apartment, he felt
+as a devout Mohammedan might, who through stress of
+circumstances entered fully shod into one of the holy
+places of his religion. It seemed nothing short of profanation
+for himself and this commonplace inspector of police
+to intrude into a place so hallowed by association with
+Her. In a kind of reverent awe he looked about him. There
+was the bed in which She slept, the table at which She
+dressed, the wardrobe in which Her dresses hung, and
+there—what were those? He stood, stricken motionless by
+surprise, staring at a tiny pair of rather high-heeled brown
+shoes which were lying on their sides on the floor in front
+of a chair.</p>
+
+<p>French noted his expression.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?” he queried, following the direction of the
+other’s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Her shoes!” Cheyne said in a tone of wonder, as he
+might have said: “Her diamond coronet.”</p>
+
+<p>French frowned.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what’s wonderful about that?” he asked with the
+nearest approach to sharpness in his tone that Cheyne had
+yet heard.</p>
+
+<p>“Her shoes,” Cheyne repeated. “Her shoes that she wore
+last night.”</p>
+
+<p>It was now French’s turn to look interested.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure of that?” he asked, picking up the shoes.</p>
+
+<p>“Certain. I saw them on her in the train to Wembley.
+Unless she has two absolutely identical pairs, she was
+wearing those.”</p>
+
+<p>French had been turning the shoes over in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>“You said you saw a mark of where someone had
+slipped on the bank behind the wall you threw the tracing
+over,” he went on. “You might describe that mark.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was just a kind of scrape on the sloping ground, with
+the footprint below it. Her foot had evidently slipped
+down till it came to a firmer place.”</p>
+
+<p>“Right foot or left?”</p>
+
+<p>“Right.”</p>
+
+<p>“And which way was the toe pointing: towards the
+bank or parallel with it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Parallel. She had evidently climbed up diagonally.”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite so. Now another question. If you were standing
+in the field looking towards the bank, did she climb
+towards the right hand or the left?”</p>
+
+<p>“The left.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the soil where the mark was; you might describe
+that.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was rather light in color, a yellowish brown. It was
+clayey, and the print showed clearly, as it would in stiff
+putty.”</p>
+
+<p>French nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Then, Mr. Cheyne, if all your data are right, and if the
+footprint was made by Miss Merrill when she was wearing
+these shoes, I should expect to find a mark of yellowish
+clay on the outside of the right shoe. Isn’t that correct?”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne thought for a moment, then signified his assent.</p>
+
+<p>“I turn up this shoe,” French continued, suiting the
+action to the word, “and I find here the very mark I was
+expecting. See for yourself. I think we may take it then,
+not only that Miss Merrill made the mark on the bank,
+and of course made it last night, but also that she was
+wearing these shoes when she made it. And that would
+coincide with your observation.”</p>
+
+<p>“But,” cried Cheyne, “I don’t understand. How did the
+shoes get here? Miss Merrill wasn’t here since we left to
+go to Wembley.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there’s what Dangle said. I don’t mean of course
+that I believe Dangle. Everything else he’s said to me has
+turned out to be a lie. But in this case the circumstances
+seem to prove this story. If he didn’t see Miss Merrill
+how did he know of her getting over the wall for the
+tracing? And if he didn’t capture her then why did she not
+return here? Or rather, suppose she did return, why should
+she go away again without leaving a note or sending me a
+message?”</p>
+
+<p>French shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” he answered. “I merely asked the
+question and your answer certainly seems sound. But now let
+us look about the coat.” He opened the wardrobe door.
+“Is the cloth coat she was wearing last night here?”</p>
+
+<p>A glance showed Cheyne the brown cloth, fur-trimmed
+coat Joan had worn on the previous evening.</p>
+
+<p>“And you will see further,” went on French when he
+had been satisfied on this point, “that there is no coat here
+of musquash fur. You say she had one?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I have seen her wearing it several times.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I think Mrs. Sproule saw her wearing it today.
+We may take it, I think, either that she returned here last
+night and changed her clothes, or else that someone
+brought in her coat and shoes, left them here and took
+out her others.”</p>
+
+<p>“The latter, I should think,” Cheyne declared.</p>
+
+<p>“Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I don’t think she would come here of her own
+free will and leave again without sending me some
+message.”</p>
+
+<p>French did not reply. He had rather taken the view that
+if the girl was the prisoner of the gang the garments would
+not have been changed, and the more he thought over it
+the more probable this seemed. Rather he was inclined to
+believe that she had reached her rooms after the episode at
+Earlswood, possibly even with the tracing; that she had
+been followed there and by some trick induced to leave
+again, when in all probability she had been kidnaped
+and the tracing recovered by the gang. But he felt there
+was no use in discussing this theory with Cheyne, whose
+anxiety as to the girl’s welfare had rendered his critical
+faculty almost useless. He turned back to the young man.</p>
+
+<p>“I have no doubt that that shoe of Miss Merrill’s made
+the mark you saw,” he observed. “At the same time I
+want definite evidence. It won’t take very long to run out
+to Wembley and try. Let us go now, and that will finish us
+for tonight.”</p>
+
+<p>They took a taxi and were soon at the place in question.
+The print was not so clear as when Cheyne had seen it
+first, but in spite of this French had no difficulty in
+satisfying himself. The shoe fitted it exactly.</p>
+
+<p>That night after supper, as French stretched himself in
+his easy-chair, he decided he would have a preliminary
+look at the tracing. He recognized that the mere fact that
+it had been handed to Cheyne by Dangle involved the
+probability that it was not the genuine document but a
+faked copy. At the same time he was bound to make what
+he could of it, and it was with very keen interest he
+unfolded and began to study it.</p>
+
+<p>It was neatly drawn, though evidently not by a professional
+draughtsman. The lettering of the words, “England
+expects every man to do his duty” was amateurish. He
+wondered what the phrase could mean. It did not seem to
+ring quite true. In his mind the words ran “England
+expects that every man this day will do his duty,” but he
+rather thought this was the version in the song, and if so,
+the wording might have been altered from the original
+for metrical reasons. He determined to look up the quotation
+on the first opportunity. On the other hand it might
+have been condensed into eight words in order to fit round
+the sheet. It was spaced in a large circle among the smaller
+circles like the figures of a clock. It conveyed to him no
+idea whatever, except the obvious suggestion of Nelson.
+Could Nelson, he wondered, or Trafalgar, be the key word
+in some form of cipher?</p>
+
+<p>As he studied the sheet he noted some points which
+Cheyne appeared to have missed, or which at all events
+he had not mentioned. While the circles were spaced
+without any apparent plan—absolutely irregularly, it seemed
+to French—there was some evidence of arrangement in
+their contents. Those nearer the edges of the tracing
+contained letters, while those more centrally situated bore
+numbers. There was no hard and fast line between the
+two, as letters and numbers appeared, so to speak, to
+overlap each other’s territory, but broadly speaking the
+arrangement held. He noticed also a few circles which
+contained neither numbers nor letters, but instead tiny
+irregular lines. There were only some half dozen of these,
+but all of them so far as he could see occurred on the
+neutral territory between the number zone and the letter
+zone. These irregular lines represented nothing that he
+could imagine, and no two appeared of the same shape.</p>
+
+<p>That the document was a cipher he could not but
+conclude, and in vain he puzzled over it until long past his
+usual bedtime. Finally, locking it away in his desk, he
+decided that when he had completed the obvious
+investigations which still remained, he would have another go at
+it, working through all the possibilities that occurred to
+him systematically and thoroughly.</p>
+
+<p>But before French had another opportunity to examine
+it, further news had come in which had led him a dance
+of several hundred miles, and left him hot on the track of
+the conspirators.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch15">
+
+<h2>Chapter XV. <br> The Torn Hotel Bill</h2>
+
+<p>On reaching the Yard next morning Inspector French
+began his day by compiling a list of the various points on
+which obvious investigations still remained to be made.
+He had already determined that these should be carried
+through with the greatest possible dispatch, leaving a
+general consideration of the case over until their results should
+be available.</p>
+
+<p>The immediate questions were, of course: Was Joan
+Merrill alive? And if so, where was she? These must be
+solved as soon as possible. The further matters relating to
+the hiding-place and aims of the gang could wait. It was,
+however, likely enough that if French could find Joan, he
+would have at least gone a long way towards solving her
+captors’ secret.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the most promising of all the lines of inquiry open
+to him were the detailed searches of Blessington’s and
+Sime’s houses, and he decided he would begin with these.
+Accordingly, having called Sergeant Carter and a couple
+more men, he went out to Earlswood and set to work.</p>
+
+<p>French was extraordinarily thorough. Nothing in that
+house, from the water cistern space in the roof to the floors
+of the pantries and the tool shed in the yard—nothing
+escaped observation. The furniture was examined, particularly
+the writing desk and the old escritoire, the carpets
+were lifted and the floors tested, the walls were minutely
+inspected for secret receptacles, the pages of the books were
+turned over, the clothes—of which a respectable wardrobe
+remained—were gone through, with special attention to
+the pockets. Nothing was taken for granted: everything
+was examined. Even the outside of the house and the soil
+of the garden were looked at, and at the end, some four
+hours after they had begun, French had to admit that his
+gains were practically nil.</p>
+
+<p>The reservation was in respect of four objects, from one
+or more of which he might conceivably extract some
+information, though he was far from hopeful. The first was the
+top sheet of Blessington’s writing pad. French, following
+his usual custom, had examined it through a mirror, but
+so completely covered was it with inkstains that he was
+unable to decipher even a single word. However, on chance
+he tore it off and put it in his pocket, in the hope that
+a future more detailed examination might reveal something
+of interest.</p>
+
+<p>The second object was a scrap of crumpled paper which
+he found in the right-hand upper pocket of one of Dangle’s
+waistcoats. It looked as if it had been crushed to the
+bottom of the pocket by some other article—such as an
+engagement book—being thrust down on the top of it.
+When the pockets had been cleared—as all had been—this
+small piece of paper had evidently been overlooked.</p>
+
+<p>French straightened it out. It was the bottom portion of
+what was clearly a bill, apparently a French hotel bill. On
+the back was a note written in pencil, and as French read
+it, the thought passed through his mind that he could not
+have imagined any more unexpected or puzzling contents.
+It was in the form of a memorandum and read:</p>
+
+<table class="display">
+<tr><td>. . . . . . ins.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>. . . . ators.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Peaches—3 doz. tins.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Safety Matches—6 doz. boxes.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Galsworthy—The Forsyte Saga.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Pencils and Fountain Pen Ink.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Sou’wester.</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>The paper was torn across the first two items, so that
+only part of the words were legible. What so heterogeneous
+a collection could possibly refer to French could not
+imagine, but he put the fragment in his pocket with the
+blotting paper for future study.</p>
+
+<p>The other two objects were photographs, and from the
+descriptions he had received from Cheyne he felt satisfied
+that one was of Blessington and the other of Dangle. These
+were of no help in themselves, but might later prove useful
+for identification purposes.</p>
+
+<p>The search of Earlswood complete, French gave his men
+an hour for lunch, and then started a similar investigation
+of Sime’s house. He was just as painstaking and thorough
+here, but this time he had no luck at all. Though Sime
+had not so carefully destroyed papers and correspondence,
+he could not find a single thing which seemed to offer help.</p>
+
+<p>Sime’s house being so much smaller than Blessington’s,
+the search was finished in little over an hour. On its
+completion French sent two of his men back to the Yard, while
+with Sergeant Carter he drove to Horne Terrace. There he
+examined Joan Merrill’s rooms, again without result.</p>
+
+<p>The work ended about four, and then he and Carter
+began another job, quite as detailed and a good deal more
+wearisome than the others. He had determined to question
+individually every other person living in the house—that
+is, the inhabitants of no less than nine flats—in the hope
+that some one of them might have seen or heard Joan
+returning to her rooms on the night of her disappearance.
+In a way the point was not of supreme importance, but
+experience had taught French the danger of neglecting <em>any</em>
+clue, no matter how unpromising, and he had long since
+made it a principle to follow up every opening which
+offered.</p>
+
+<p>For over two hours he worked, and at last, as he was
+beginning to accept defeat, he obtained just the
+information he required.</p>
+
+<p>It appeared that about a quarter past eleven on the
+night in question, the fifteen-year-old daughter of a widow
+living on the third floor was returning home from some
+small jollification when she saw, just as she approached the
+door, three persons come out. Two were men, one tall, well
+built and clean-shaven, the other short and stout, with a
+fair toothbrush mustache. The third person was Miss
+Merrill. A street lamp had shone directly on their faces as
+they emerged, and the girl had noticed that the men wore
+serious expressions and that Miss Merrill looked pale and
+anxious, as if all three were sharers in some bad news.
+They crossed the sidewalk to a waiting motor. Miss Merrill
+and the taller man got inside, the second man driving.
+During the time the girl saw them, none of them spoke.
+She remembered the car. It was a yellow one with a coach
+body, and looked a private vehicle. Yes, she recognized
+the photograph the Inspector showed her—Blessington’s.
+It was that of the driver of the car.</p>
+
+<p>It did not seem worth while to French to try to trace
+the car, as he fancied he knew where it had gone. From
+Horne Terrace to Sime’s house in Colton Street was about
+a ten minute run. Therefore if it left the former about
+11:15, it should reach the latter a minute or two before
+the half-hour. This worked in with the time at which the
+invalid lady, Mrs. Sproule, had heard the motor stop in
+the street, and to French it seemed clear that Miss Merrill
+had been taken direct to Sime’s, and kept there until
+1:45 <span class="sc">p.m.</span>
+on the following day. What arguments or threats the
+pair had used to get her to accompany them French could
+not tell, but he shrewdly suspected that they had played
+the same trick on her as on Cheyne. In all probability they
+had told her that Cheyne had met with an accident and
+was conscious and asking for her. Once in the cab it would
+have been child’s play for a powerful man like Sime to
+have chloroformed her, and having got her to the house,
+they could easily have kept her helpless and semi-conscious
+by means of drugs.</p>
+
+<p>French returned on foot to the Yard, thinking over the
+affair as he walked. It certainly had a sinister look. These
+men were very much in earnest. They had not hesitated to
+resort to murder in the case of Cheyne—it was through,
+to them, an absolutely unforeseen accident that he
+escaped—and French felt he would not give much for Joan
+Merrill’s chances.</p>
+
+<p>When he reached his office he found that a piece of
+news had just come in. A constable who had been on
+point duty at the intersection of South and Mitchem
+Streets, near Waterloo Station, had noticed about 2 <span
+class="sc">p.m.</span> on the day of the disappearance of the gang, a yellow
+motorcar pass close beside him and turn into Hackworth’s
+garage, a small establishment in the latter street. Though
+he had not observed the vehicle with more than the
+ordinary attention such a man will give to the passing traffic,
+his recollection both of the car and driver led him to the
+belief that they were those referred to in the Yard circular.
+The constable was waiting to see French, and made his
+report with diffidence, saying that though he thought he
+was right, he might easily be mistaken.</p>
+
+<p>“Quite right to let me know anyhow, Wilson,” French
+said heartily. “If you’ve seen Blessington’s car it may give
+us a valuable clue, and if you’re mistaken, there’s no harm
+done. We’ve nothing to lose by following it up.” He
+glanced at his watch. “It’s past my dinner hour, but I’ll
+take a taxi and go round to this garage on my way home.
+You’d better come along.”</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later the two men reached Hackworth’s
+establishment, and pushing open the door of the tiny
+office, asked if the manager was about.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m John Hackworth. Yes, sir?” said a stout man in
+shabby gray tweeds. “Want a car?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want a word with you, Mr. Hackworth,” said French
+pleasantly. “Just a small matter of private business.”</p>
+
+<p>Hackworth nodded, and indicated a farther door.</p>
+
+<p>“In here,” he invited, and when French and the
+constable had taken the two chairs the room contained, he
+briskly repeated: “Yes, sir?”</p>
+
+<p>At this hint not to waste valuable time, French promptly
+introduced himself and propounded his question. Mr.
+Hackworth looked impressed.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t tell me that gent was a wrong ’un?” he said
+anxiously, then another idea seeming to strike him, he
+continued: “Of course it don’t matter to me in a way, for
+I’ve got the car. I’ll tell you about it.”</p>
+
+<p>French produced his photograph of Blessington.</p>
+
+<p>“Tell me first if that’s the man,” he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hackworth pushed the card up to the electric bulb.
+“It’s him,” he declared. “It’s him and no mistake. He
+walked in here yesterday—no, the day before—about
+eleven and asked to see the boss. ‘I’ve got a car,’ he said
+when I went forward, ‘and there’s something wrong with
+the engine. Sometimes it goes all right and sometimes it
+doesn’t. Maybe,’ he said, ‘you’ll start it up and it’ll run a
+mile or two well enough, then it begins to miss, and the
+speed drops perhaps to eight or ten miles. I don’t know
+what’s wrong.’</p>
+
+<p>“ ‘What about your petrol feed?’ I said. ‘Sounds like
+your carburetor, or maybe your strainer or one of your
+pipes choked.’</p>
+
+<p>“ ‘I thought it might be that,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t
+find anything wrong. However, I want you to look over it,
+that is, if you can lend me a car while you’re doing it.’</p>
+
+<p>“Well, sir, I needn’t go into all the details, and to make
+a long story short, I agreed to overhaul the car and to
+lend him an old Napier while I was at it. He went away,
+and same day about two or before it he came back with
+his car, a yellow Armstrong Siddeley. It seemed to be all
+right then, but he said that that was just the trouble—it
+might be all right now and it would be all wrong within
+a minute’s time. So I gave him the Napier—it was a done
+machine, worth very little, but would go all right, you
+understand. He asked me how long I would take, and I
+said I’d have it for him next day, that was yesterday. He
+had three or four suitcases with him and he transferred
+these across. Then he got into the Napier and drove away,
+and that was the last I saw of him.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what was wrong with his own car?”</p>
+
+<p>“There, sir, you have me beat. Nothing! Or nothing
+anyhow that I could find.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was the Napier a four-seater?”</p>
+
+<p>“Five. Three behind and two in front.”</p>
+
+<p>“A coach body?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, but with a good canvas cover, and he put it up,
+too, before starting.”</p>
+
+<p>“Raining?”</p>
+
+<p>“Neither raining nor like rain: nor no wind neither.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long was he here altogether?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not more than five or six minutes. He left just as soon
+as he could change the cars.”</p>
+
+<p>French, having put a few more questions, got the
+proprietor to write out a detailed description of the Napier.
+Next, he begged the use of the garage telephone and
+repeated the description to the Yard, asking that it should
+be circulated among the force without delay. Finally he
+thanked the stout Mr. Hackworth for his help, and with
+Constable Wilson left the establishment.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Wilson,” he said, “you’ve done a good day’s
+work. I’m pleased with you. You may get along home, and
+if I want anything more I’ll let you know in the morning.”</p>
+
+<p>But though it was so late, French did not follow his
+subordinate’s example. Instead he stood on the sidewalk
+outside the garage, thinking hard.</p>
+
+<p>As to the nature of the defect in the engine of the yellow
+car he had no doubt. What was wrong with it was just
+what Hackworth had said was wrong with it—nothing
+whatever. French could see that the whole episode was
+simply a plan on Blessington’s part to change the car and
+thus cover up his traces. The yellow Armstrong-Siddeley
+was known to be his by many persons, and Blessington
+wanted one which, as he would believe, could not be
+traced. He would have seen from the papers that Cheyne
+had escaped the fate prepared for him, and he would
+certainly suspect that the outraged young man would put his
+knowledge at the disposal of the police. Therefore the
+yellow car was a danger and another must be procured in
+its place. The trick was obvious, and French had heard of
+something like it before.</p>
+
+<p>But though the main part of the scheme was clear to
+French, the details were not. From the statement of Mrs.
+Sproule, the invalid of Colton Street, the yellow car had
+left Sime’s house at about 1:45. According to this
+Hackworth it had reached the garage at a minute or so
+before two. Now, from Colton Street to the garage was a
+ten or twelve minutes’ drive, therefore Blessington must
+have gone practically direct. Moreover, when he left
+Colton Street Joan Merrill and the other members of the
+gang were in the car, but when he reached the garage he
+was alone. Where had the others dismounted?</p>
+
+<p>Another question suggested itself to French, and he
+thought that if he could answer it he would probably be
+able to answer the first as well. Why did Blessington select
+this particular garage? He did not know this Hackworth—the
+man had said he had never seen Blessington before.
+Why then this particular establishment rather than one of
+the scores nearer Sime’s dwelling?</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes French puzzled over this point, and
+then a probable explanation struck him. There, just a
+hundred yards or more away, was a place admirably suited
+for dropping his passengers and picking them up again—Waterloo
+Station. What more natural for Blessington than
+to pull up at the departure side with the yellow
+Armstrong-Siddeley and set them down? What more commonplace
+for him than to pick them up at the arrival side with the
+black Napier? While he was changing the cars, they could
+enter, mingle with the crowds of passengers, work their
+way across the station and be waiting for him as if they
+had just arrived by train.</p>
+
+<p>Late as it was, French returned to the Yard and put a
+good man on to make inquiries at Waterloo in the hope of
+proving his theory. Then, tired and very hungry, he went
+home.</p>
+
+<p>But when he had finished supper and, ensconced in his
+armchair with a cigar, had looked through the evening
+paper, interest in the case reasserted itself, and he
+determined that he would have a look at the scrap of paper
+which he had found in the pocket of one of Dangle’s
+waistcoats.</p>
+
+<p>As has been said, it was a list or memorandum of certain
+articles, written on the back of part of an old hotel bill.
+French reread the items with something as nearly
+approaching bewilderment as a staid inspector of the Yard
+can properly admit. Peaches, safety matches, the Forsyte
+Saga, pencil, fountain pen ink, and a sou’wester! What in
+the name of goodness could anyone want with such a
+heterogeneous collection? And the quantities! Three dozen
+tins of peaches, and six dozen boxes of matches! Enough
+to do a small expeditionary force, French thought
+whimsically, though he did not see an expeditionary force
+requiring the works of John Galsworthy, ink, and pencils.</p>
+
+<p>And yet was this idea so absurd? Did not these articles,
+in point of fact, suggest an expedition? Peaches, matches,
+pencils, and ink—all these articles were commonplace and
+universally obtainable. Did the fact that a quantity were
+required not mean that Dangle or his friends were to be
+cut off for some considerable time from the ordinary
+sources of supply? It certainly looked like it. And as he
+thought over the other articles, he saw that they too were
+not inconsistent with the same idea. The Forsyte Saga was
+distinguished from most novels in a peculiar and indeed a
+suggestive manner. It consisted of a number of novels, each
+full length or more than full length, but the point of
+interest was that the entire collection was published on thin
+paper in this one volume. Where could one get a greater
+mass of reading matter in a smaller bulk: in other words,
+where could one find a more suitable work of fiction to
+carry with one on an expedition?</p>
+
+<p>The sou’wester also fitted from this point of view into
+the scheme of things, but it added a distinctive suggestion
+all its own: that of the sea. French’s thoughts turned
+towards a voyage. But it could not be an ordinary voyage
+in a well-appointed liner, where peaches and matches and
+novels would be as plentiful as in the heart of London.
+Nor did it seem likely that it could be a trip in the <i>Enid</i>.
+Such a craft could not remain out of touch with land for
+so long a period as these stores seemed to postulate. French
+could not think of anything that seemed exactly to meet
+the case, though he registered the idea of an expedition as
+one to be kept in view.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving the point for the time being, he turned over the
+paper and began to examine its other side.</p>
+
+<p>It formed the middle portion of an old hotel bill, the top
+and bottom having been torn off. The items indicated a
+stay of one night only being merely for bed and breakfast.
+The name of the hotel had been torn off with the bill
+head, and also all but a few letters of the green rubber
+receipt stamp at the bottom. French felt that if he could
+only ascertain the identity of the hotel it might afford him
+a valuable clue, and he settled down to study it in as close
+detail as possible.</p>
+
+<figure>
+  <img src="images/scrap.png"
+       alt="A torn scrap of paper, showing part of a bill for
+“1 chambre” and “1 petit déjeuner”, totaling to 28 50. The ends of a
+few other words are visible at the edges of the paper.">
+</figure>
+
+<p>He recalled two statements that Speedwell had made
+about Dangle. First, the melancholy detective had said
+that commencing about a fortnight after the acquisition by
+the gang of Price’s letter and the tracing, Dangle had
+begun paying frequent visits to the Continent or Ireland,
+and secondly, that in a tube lift he had overheard Dangle
+say that he was crossing on a given night, but would be
+back the next. French thought he might take it for granted
+that this bill had been incurred on one of these trips. He
+wondered if Dangle had always visited the same place, as,
+if so, the bill would refer to an hotel near enough to
+England to be visited in one day. Of none of this was
+there any evidence, but French believed that it was
+sufficiently probable to be taken as a working hypothesis.
+If it led nowhere, he could try something else.</p>
+
+<p>Assuming then that one could cross to the place in one
+night and return the next, it was obvious that it must be
+comparatively close to England, and, the language on the
+bill being French, it must be in France or Belgium. He
+took an atlas and a Continental Bradshaw, and began to
+look out the area over which this condition obtained. Soon
+he saw that while the whole of Belgium and the
+northwest of France, bounded by a rough line drawn through
+Chalons, Nancy, Dijon, Angoulême, Chartres, and Brest,
+were within the <em>possible</em> limit, giving a reasonable time in
+which to transact business, it was more than likely the
+place did not lie east of Brussels and Paris.</p>
+
+<p>He turned back to the torn bill. Could he learn nothing
+from it?</p>
+
+<p>First, as to the charges. With the franc standing at
+eighty, twenty four francs seemed plenty for a single room,
+though it was by no means exorbitant. It and the 4.50 fr.
+for <i>petit déjeuner</i> suggested a fairly good hotel—probably
+what might be termed good second-class—not one of the
+great hotels de luxe like the Savoy in London or the
+Crillon or Claridge’s in Paris, but one that ordinary people
+patronized, and which would be well known in its own
+town.</p>
+
+<p>Of all the information available, the most promising line
+of research seemed that of the rubber stamp, and to that
+French now turned his attention. The three lines read:</p>
+
+<table class="display">
+<tr><td>. . . uit</td></tr>
+<tr><td>. . . lon,</td></tr>
+<tr><td>. . . S.</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>French thought he had something that might help here.
+He rose, crossed the room, and after searching in his letter
+file, produced three or four papers. These were hotel bills
+he had incurred in France and Switzerland when he
+visited those countries in search of the murderer of Charles
+Gething of the firm of Duke &amp; Peabody, and he had
+brought them home with him in the hope that some day
+he might return as a holiday-maker to these same hotels.
+Now perhaps they would be of use in another way.</p>
+
+<p>He spread them out and examined their receipt stamps.
+From their analogy the . . . uit on his fragment obviously
+stood for the words “Pour acquit,” anglice: “paid.” The
+middle line ending in . . . lon was unquestionably the
+name of the hotel, and the third, ending in S, that of its
+town. And here again was a suggestion as to the size of
+the establishment. A street was not included in the
+address. It must therefore be well known in its town.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to him moreover that this fact also conveyed
+a suggestion as to the size of the town. If the latter were
+Paris or Brussels—as he had thought not unlikely as both
+these names ended in s—a street address would almost
+certainly have been given. The names of the hotel and
+town alone pointed to a town of the same standing as the
+hotel itself—a large town to have so important an hotel,
+but not a capital city. In other words, there was a certain
+probability the hotel was situated in a large town
+comparatively near the English Channel, Paris and Brussels
+being excepted.</p>
+
+<p>As French sat pondering over the affair, he saw suddenly
+that further information was obtainable from the fact that
+the lettering on a rubber stamp is always done symmetrically.
+Once more rising, he found a small piece of tracing
+paper, and placing this over the mutilated receipt stamp,
+he began to print in the missing letters of the first line.
+His printing was not very good, but he did not mind that.
+All he wanted was to get the spacing of the letters correct,
+and to this end he took a lot of trouble. He searched
+through the advertisements in several papers until he
+found some type of the same kind as that of the . . . uit,
+and by carefully measuring the other letters he at last
+satisfied himself as to just where the P of Pour acquit
+would stand. This, he hoped, would give him the number
+of letters in the names of both the hotel and the town.
+Drawing a line down at right angles to the t of acquit,
+he found that the n of . . . lon projected slightly over a
+quarter inch farther along, while the S of the town was
+almost directly beneath. By drawing another line down
+from the P of Pour, and measuring these same distances
+from it, he found the lengths of the names of hotel and
+town, and by further careful examination and spacing of
+type, he reached definite conclusions. The name of the
+hotel, including the word hotel, contained from eighteen
+to twenty letters and that of the town six, more or less
+according to whether letters like I or W predominated.</p>
+
+<p>He was pleased with his progress. Starting from nothing
+he had evolved the conception of an important hotel—the
+something-lon, in a large town situated in France or
+Belgium, and comparatively near the English Channel, the
+name of the town consisting of five, six, or seven letters of
+which the last one was S. Surely, he thought, such an
+hotel would not be hard to find.</p>
+
+<p>If he was correct as to the size of the town, it was one
+which would be marked on a fairly small scale map, and
+taking his atlas, he began to make a list of all those which
+seemed to meet the case. He soon saw there were a
+number—Calais, Amiens, Beauvais, Étaples, Arras, Soissons,
+Troyes, Ypres, Bruges, Roulers, and Malines.</p>
+
+<p>He had by this time become so excited over his quest that
+in spite of the hour—it was long past his bedtime—he
+telephoned to the Yard to send him Baedeker’s Guides to
+Northern France and Belgium, and when these came he
+began eagerly looking up the hotels in each of the towns
+on his list. For a considerable time he worked on without
+result, then suddenly he laughed from sheer delight.</p>
+
+<p>He had reached Bruges, and there, third on the list,
+was “Grand Hôtel du Sablon!” Moreover, this name
+exactly filled the required space.</p>
+
+<p>“Got it in one,” he chuckled, feeling immensely pleased
+with himself.</p>
+
+<p>But French, if sometimes an enthusiastic optimist and
+again a down and out pessimist, was at all times thorough.
+He did not stop at Bruges. He worked all the way through
+the list, and it was not until he had satisfied himself that
+no other hotel fulfilling the conditions existed in any of
+the other towns, that he felt himself satisfied. It was true
+there was an Hotel du Carillon in Malines, but this name
+was obviously too short for the space.</p>
+
+<p>As he went jubilantly to bed, the vision of a trip to the
+historic city of Bruges bulked large in his imagination.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch16">
+
+<h2>Chapter XVI. <br> A Tale of Two Cities</h2>
+
+<p>Next morning French had an interview with his chief at
+the Yard at which he produced the torn hotel bill, and
+having demonstrated the methods by which he had come
+to identify it with the Grand Hôtel du Sablon in Bruges,
+suggested that a visit there might be desirable. To his
+secret relief Chief Inspector Mitchell took the same view,
+and it was arranged that he should cross as soon as he
+could get away.</p>
+
+<p>On his return to his room he found Cheyne waiting for
+him. The young man seemed to have aged by years since
+his frenzied appeal to the Yard, and his anxious face and
+distrait manner bore testimony to the mental stress
+through which he was passing. Eagerly he inquired for
+news.</p>
+
+<p>“None so far, I’m sorry to say,” French answered,
+“except that we have found that Miss Merrill did return to
+her rooms that night,” and he told what he had learned of
+Joan’s movements, as well as of his visit to Hackworth’s
+garage, and of Blessington’s exchange of cars. But of
+Bruges and the hotel bill he said nothing. Cheyne, he felt
+sure, would have begged to be allowed to accompany him
+to Belgium, and this he did not want. But in his kindly
+way he talked sympathetically to the young man
+reiterating his promise to let him know directly anything of
+importance was learned.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne having reluctantly taken his leave, French
+turned to routine business, which had got sadly behind
+during the last few days. At this he worked all the
+morning, but on his return from lunch he found that further
+news had come in.</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Burnett, the man he had put on the Waterloo
+Station job, was waiting for him, and reported success in
+his mission. He had, he said, spent the whole of the day
+from early morning at the station, and at last he had
+obtained what he wanted. A taximan on a nearby stand
+had been called to the footpath at the arrival side of the
+station at about 2:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> He had drawn up behind an
+old black car, which he had thought was a Napier. His own
+fare, a lady, kept him waiting for a few seconds while she
+took a somewhat leisurely farewell of the gentleman who
+was seeing her off, and during this time he had idly
+watched the vehicle in front. He had seen an invalid lady
+in a sable colored fur coat being helped in. There was a
+second lady with her, and a tall man. The three got in,
+and the car moved off at the same time as his own.
+Sergeant Burnett had questioned the man on the appearance
+of the travelers, and was pretty certain that they were
+Joan, Susan, and Sime. Dangle, so far as he could learn,
+was not with them.</p>
+
+<p>French felt the sudden thrill of the artist who has just
+caught the elusive effect of light which he wanted, as he
+reflected how sound had been his deduction. He had
+considered it likely that these people would use Waterloo
+Station to effect the change of cars, and now it seemed that
+they had done so. Nothing like a bit of imagination, he
+thought, as he good-naturedly complimented the sergeant
+on his powers, and dismissed him.</p>
+
+<p>Having too much to see to at the Yard to catch the
+2:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> from Victoria for Ostend, he rang up and
+engaged a berth on the Harwich-Zeebrugge boat, and that night
+at 8:40 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> he left Liverpool Street for Belgium.</p>
+
+<p>Apart from his actual business, he was looking forward
+with considerable keenness to the trip. Foreign travel had
+become perhaps his greatest pleasure, and he had never yet
+been in Belgium. Moreover he had always heard Bruges
+mentioned as the paradise of artists, and in a rather
+shamefaced way he admitted an interest in and appreciation of
+art. He had determined that if at all possible he would
+snatch enough time to see at least the more interesting
+parts of the old town.</p>
+
+<p>They left the Parkeston Quay at 10:30, and by 6 next
+morning French was on deck. He was anxious to miss no
+possible sight of the approach of Zeebrugge. He had read
+with a thrilled and breathless interest the story of what
+was perhaps the greatest naval exploit of all time—as,
+indeed, who has not?—and as the long, low line of the
+famous mole loomed up rather starboard of straight ahead,
+his heart beat faster and a lump came in his throat. There,
+away to the right, round the curve of the long pier, must
+have been where <i>Vindictive</i> boarded, where in an inferno
+of fire her crew reached with their scaling ladders the top
+of the great sea wall, and climbing down on the inside,
+joined a hand-to-hand fight with the German defenders.
+And here, at the left hand end of the huge semicircle, was
+the lighthouse, which he was now rounding as <i>Thetis</i>, <i>Intrepid</i>,
+and <i>Iphigenia</i> rounded it on that historic night.
+He tried to picture the scene. The screen of smoke to sea,
+which baffled the searchlights of the defenders and from
+which mysterious and unexpected craft emerged at
+intervals, the flashing lights as guns were fired and shells burst
+over the mole, the sea, and the low-lying sand dunes of
+the coast behind. The din of hell in the air, fire, smoke,
+explosion, and death—and those three ships passing
+on; <i>Thetis</i> a wreck, struck and fiercely burning, forced aside
+by the destruction of her gear, but lighting her fellows
+straight to their goal—the mouth of the canal which led to
+the submarine base at Bruges. French crossed the deck and
+gazed at the spot with its swing bridge and stone side
+walls, as he thought how, had the desperate venture failed,
+history might have been changed and at that touch and
+go period of the war the Central Powers might have
+triumphed. It was with renewed pride and wonder in the
+men who conceived and carried out the wonderful
+enterprise that he crossed back over the deck and set himself
+to the business of landing.</p>
+
+<p>A short run past the sandhills at the coast and across
+the flat Belgian fields brought the spires of Bruges into
+view, and slowly rounding a sharp curve through the
+gardens of the houses in the suburbs, they joined the main line
+from Ostend, and a few minutes later entered the station.
+Emerging on to the wide boulevard in front, French’s
+eyes fell on a bus bearing the legend “Grand Hôtel du
+Sablon,” and getting in, he was driven across the
+boulevard and a short way up a long, rather narrow and
+winding street, between houses some of which seemed to have
+stood unaltered—and doubtless had—for six hundred
+years, when Bruges, three times its present size, was the
+chief trading city of the Hanseatic League. As he turned
+into the hotel, chimes rang out—from the famous belfry,
+the porter told him—tinkling, high-pitched bells and
+silvery, if a trifle thin in the clear morning air.</p>
+
+<p>He called for some breakfast, and as he was consuming
+it the anticipated delights of sight-seeing receded, and
+interest in the movements of James Dangle became once
+more paramount. He was proud of his solution of the
+problem of the torn hotel bill, and not for a moment had
+a doubt of the correctness of that solution entered his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>It came upon him therefore as a devastating shock when
+the courteous manager of the hotel, with whom he had
+asked an interview, assured him not only that no such
+person as the original of the photograph he had presented
+had ever visited his establishment, but that the fragment
+of the bill was not his.</p>
+
+<p>To French it seemed as if the bottom had fallen out of
+his world. He had been so sure of his ground; all his
+reasoning about the stamp, the size of the hotel and town and
+lengths of their names had seemed so convincing and
+unassailable. And the names Grand Hôtel du Sablon and
+Bruges had worked in so well! More important still, no
+other hotel seemed to fill the bill. French felt cast down to
+the lowest depths of despair, and for a time he could only
+stare speechlessly at the manager.</p>
+
+<p>At last he smiled rather ruefully.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s rather a blow,” he confessed. “I was pretty sure
+of my ground. Indeed, so sure was I, that if I might
+without offense, I should like to ask you again if there is no
+possibility that the man might have been here, say, during
+your absence.”</p>
+
+<p>The manager was sympathetic. He brought French a
+sample of his bill, stamped with his rubber receipt stamp,
+and French saw at once their dissimilarity with those he
+had been studying. Moreover, the manager assured him
+that neither had been altered for several years.</p>
+
+<p>So he was no further on! French lit a cigar, and retiring
+to a deserted corner of the salon, sat down to think the
+thing out.</p>
+
+<p>What was he to do next? Was he to return to London by
+the next boat, giving up the search and admitting defeat,
+or was there any possible alternative? He set his teeth as he
+swore great oaths that nothing short of the direct need
+would lead him to abandon his efforts until he had found
+the hotel, and learned Dangle’s secret.</p>
+
+<p>But heroics were all very well: what, in point of fact
+was he to do? He sat considering the problem for an hour,
+and at the end of that time he had decided to go to
+Brussels, borrow or buy a Belgian hotel guide, and go through
+it page by page until he found what he wanted. If none
+of the hotels given suited, he would go on to Paris and try
+a similar experiment.</p>
+
+<p>This decision he reached only after long consideration,
+not because it was not obvious—it had instantly occurred
+to him—but because he was convinced that the methods
+he had already tried had completely covered the ground.
+He had proved that there was no hotel whose name ended
+in . . . lon in a fair-sized town whose name ended
+in . . . s in all the district in question, other than the
+Grand Hôtel du Sablon at Bruges. There still remained,
+however, the chance that it might be a southern French or
+Swiss hotel, and he saw that he would have to make sure
+of this before returning to London.</p>
+
+<p>Still buried in thought, he walked slowly back to the
+station to look up trains to Brussels. The fact that he was
+in the most interesting town in Belgium no longer stirred
+his pulse. His disappointment and anxiety about his case
+drove all irrelevant matters from his mind, and he felt
+that all he wanted now was to be at work again to
+retrieve his error.</p>
+
+<p>He reached the station, and began searching the huge
+timetable boards for the train he wanted. He was
+interested to notice that the tables were published in two
+languages, French and what he thought at first was Dutch,
+but concluded later must be Flemish. Idly he compared
+the different spelling of the names of the towns. Brugge
+and Bruges, Gent and Gand, Brussel and Bruxelles,
+Oostende and Ostende, and then suddenly he came up
+as it were all standing, and a sudden wave of excitement
+passed over him as he stood regarding another pair of
+names. Antwerpen and Anvers! Anvers! A six lettered
+town ending in s! He cursed himself for his stupidity. He
+had always thought of the place as Antwerp, but he ought
+to have known its French name. Anvers! Once more he
+was alert and full of eager optimism. Had he got it at
+last?</p>
+
+<p>He passed through on to the platform, and making for
+a door headed “Chef de Gare,” asked for the stationmaster.
+There, after a moment’s delay, he was shown into the
+presence of an imposing individual in gold lace, who,
+however, was not too important to listen to him carefully and
+reply courteously in somewhat halting English. Monsieur
+wished to know if there was an hotel whose name ended
+in . . . lon in Antwerp? He could not recall one off hand,
+but he would look up the advertisements in his guides and
+tourist programs. Ah, what was this? The Grand Hôtel du
+Carillon. Was that what monsieur required?</p>
+
+<p>A name of twenty letters—which would exactly fill the
+space on the receipt stamp! It certainly was what
+monsieur required! The very idea raised monsieur to an exalted
+pitch of delighted enthusiasm. The stationmaster was
+gratified at the reception of his information.</p>
+
+<p>“I haf been at the ’otel myself,” he volunteered. “It is
+small, but vair’ goot. It is in the Place Verte, near to the
+Cathedral. Does monsieur know Antwerp?”</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur did not, but he expressed the pleasure it would
+give him to make its acquaintance, and thanking the polite
+official he returned to the timetables to look up the trains
+thither.</p>
+
+<p>His most direct way, it appeared, was through Ghent
+and Termonde, but on working out the services he found
+he could get quicker trains via Brussels. He therefore
+booked by that route, and at 11:51 he climbed into a great
+through express from Ostend to Brussels, Aix-la-Chapelle,
+Strasbourg, and, it seemed to him, the whole of the rest
+of Europe. An hour and a half’s run brought him into
+Brussels-Nord, and from there he wandered out into the
+Place Rogier for lunch. Then returning to the station he
+took an express for Antwerp, arriving in the central
+terminus of that city a few minutes after three o’clock.</p>
+
+<p>He had bought a map of Antwerp at a bookstall in
+Brussels, from which he had learned that the Place Verte
+was nearly a mile away in the direction of the river. His
+traveling impedimenta consisting of a handbag only, he
+determined to walk, and emerging from the great marble
+hall of the station, he passed down the busy Avenue de
+Keyser, and along the Place de Meir into the older part of
+the town. As he walked he was immensely impressed by
+the fine wide streets, the ornate buildings, and the
+excellence of the shops. Everywhere were evidences of wealth
+and prosperity, and as he turned into the Place Verte, and
+looked across at the huge bulk of the Cathedral with its
+soaring spire, he felt that here was an artistic treasure of
+which any city might well be proud.</p>
+
+<p>The Grand Hôtel du Carillon was an old, quaint
+looking building looking out over the Place Verte. French,
+entering, called for a bock in the restaurant, and after
+he had finished, asked to see the manager. A moment later
+a small, stout man with a humorous eye appeared, bowed
+low, and said that he was M. Marquet, the proprietor.</p>
+
+<p>“A word with you in private, M. Marquet,” French
+requested, when they had exchanged confidences on the
+weather. “Won’t you take something with me?”</p>
+
+<p>The proprietor signified his willingness in excellent
+English, and when further drinks had been brought, and
+French had satisfied himself that they were alone, he went
+on:</p>
+
+<p>“I am a detective officer from the London police, and I
+am trying to trace an Englishman called Dangle. I have
+reason to suppose he stayed at this hotel recently. There is
+his photograph. Can you help me at all?”</p>
+
+<p>At the name Dangle, M. Marquet had nodded, and
+when he saw the photograph he beamed and his whole
+body became affirmation personified. But certainly, he
+knew M. Dangle. For several weeks—he could not say
+how many, but he could ascertain from his records—for
+several weeks M. Dangle had been his guest at intervals.
+Sometimes he had stayed one night, sometimes two,
+sometimes three. Yes, he was usually alone, but not always.
+On three or four occasions he had been accompanied by
+another gentleman—a tall, well-built, clean-shaven man,
+and once a third man had come, a short man with a fair
+mustache. Yes, that was the photograph of the short man,
+M.—? Yes; Blessington. The other man’s name he could
+not remember, but it would appear in the register: Sile,
+Site—something like that. Yes, Sime: that was it. No, he
+was afraid he knew nothing about these gentlemen or
+their business, but he would be glad to do everything in
+his power to assist monsieur.</p>
+
+<p>French, his enthusiasm and delight remaining at fever
+heat, was suitably grateful. He wished just to ask M. Marquet
+a few more questions. He would like to know the last
+occasion on which M. Dangle had stayed.</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” M. Marquet exclaimed, “he just left yesterday.
+He came here, let me see, on Tuesday night quite late,
+indeed it was nearly one on Wednesday morning when he
+arrived. He came, he said, off the English boat train which
+arrives here about midnight. He stayed here two days—till
+yesterday, Thursday. He left yesterday shortly after
+déjeuner.”</p>
+
+<p>“He was alone?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, monsieur. This time he was alone.”</p>
+
+<p>French, metaphorically speaking, hugged himself on
+hearing this news. Through his brilliant work with the
+torn bill, he had added one more fine achievement to the
+long list of his successes. He could not but believe that the
+most doubtful and difficult step of the investigation had
+now been accomplished. With a trail only twenty four
+hours old, he should surely be able to put his hands on
+Dangle with but little delay. Moreover, from the fact that
+so many visits had been paid to Antwerp it looked as if
+the secret of the gang was hidden in the city. Greatly
+reassured, he proceeded to acquire details.</p>
+
+<p>He began by obtaining from M. Marquet’s records lists
+of the visits of the three men, and that gentleman’s
+identification of the torn bill. Also he pressed him as to whether
+he could not remember any questions or conversations
+of the trio which might give him a hint as to their business,
+but without success. He saw and made a detailed search
+of the room Dangle had occupied during his last visit, but
+here again with no result. Dangle, M. Marquet said, had
+been out all day on the Wednesday, the day after his
+arrival, but on Thursday he had remained in the hotel
+until his departure about 2:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> M. Marquet had not
+seen him leave, but he had sent the waiter for his bill after
+déjeuner, and the proprietor believed he had gone a little
+later. Possibly the porter could give more information on
+the point.</p>
+
+<p>The porter was sent for and questioned. He knew M.
+Dangle well and recognized his photograph. He had been
+present in the hall when the gentleman left on the previous
+day, shortly before two o’clock. M. Dangle had walked
+out of the hotel with his suitcase in his hand, declining
+the porter’s offer to carry it for him or call a taxi. The
+trams, however, passed the door, and the porter had
+assumed M. Dangle intended to travel by that means. No,
+he had not noticed the direction he took. There was a
+“stillstand” or tramway halt close by. Dangle had not
+talked to the porter further than to wish him good-day
+when he met him. He had not asked questions, or given
+any hint of his business in the town.</p>
+
+<p>Following his usual procedure under such circumstances,
+French next asked for interviews with all those of the staff
+who had come in any way in contract with his quarry, but
+in spite of his most persistent efforts he could not extract
+a single item of information as to the man’s business or
+movements.</p>
+
+<p>Baffled and weary from his journey, French took his hat
+and went out in the hope that a walk through the streets
+of the fine old city would clear his brain and bring him
+the inspiration he needed. Crossing beneath the trees of
+the Place Verte, he passed round the cathedral to the small
+square from which he could look up at the huge bulk of
+the west front, with its two unequal towers, one a
+climbing marvel of decoration, “lace in stone,” the other
+unfinished, and topped with a small and evidently temporary
+spire. Then, promising himself a look round the interior
+before leaving the town, he regained the tramline from
+the Place Verte, and following it westwards, in two or
+three minutes came out on the great terraces lining the
+banks of the river.</p>
+
+<p>The first sight of the Scheldt was one which French felt
+he would not soon forget. Well on to half a mile wide, it
+bore away in both directions like a great highway leading
+from this little Belgium to the uttermost parts of the earth.
+Large ships lay at anchor in it, as well as clustering along
+the wharves to the south. This river frontage of wharves
+and sheds and cranes and great steamers extended as far
+as the eye could reach; he had read that it was three and
+a half miles long. And that excluded the huge docks for
+which the town was famous. As he strolled along he
+became profoundly impressed, not only with the size of
+the place, but more particularly with the attention which
+had been given to its artistic side. In spite of all this
+commercial activity the city did not look sordid. Thought had
+been given to its design; one might almost say loving care.
+Why, these very terraces on which he was walking, with
+their cafés and their splendid view of the river, were
+formed on neither more nor less than the vast roofs of the
+dock sheds. French, who knew most of the English ports,
+felt his amazement grow at every step.</p>
+
+<p>He followed the quays right across the town till he came
+to the Gare du Sud, then turning away from the river, he
+found himself in the Avenue du Sud. From this he worked
+back along the line of great avenues which had replaced
+the earlier fortifications, until eventually, nearly three
+hours after he had started, he once again turned into the
+Place Verte, and reached the Carillon.</p>
+
+<p>He ordered a room for the night, and some strong tea,
+after which he sat on in his secluded corner of the
+comfortable restaurant, and smoked a meditative cigar. His
+walk had done him good. His brain had cleared, and the
+weariness of the journey, and the chagrin of his deadlock
+had vanished. His thoughts returned to his problem, which
+he began to attack in the new.</p>
+
+<p>He puzzled over it for the best part of an hour, without
+making the slightest progress, and then he began to
+consider how far the ideas he had already arrived at fitted in
+with what he had since learned of Dangle’s movements.</p>
+
+<p>He had thought that the nature of the articles on
+Dangle’s list suggested a sea expedition. He remembered the
+delight with which, many years earlier, he had read <i>The
+Riddle of the Sands</i>, and he thought that had Dangle
+contemplated just such another cruise as that of the heroes of
+that fascinating book, he might well have got together the
+articles in question. But since these ideas had passed
+through his mind, French had learned the following fresh
+facts:</p>
+
+<p>1. From a fortnight after obtaining the tracing, Dangle
+had been paying frequent visits to Antwerp.</p>
+
+<p>2. He had on these occasions put up at the Carillon.</p>
+
+<p>3. His last visit had followed immediately on the failure
+to murder Cheyne, with its almost certain result of the
+calling in of Scotland Yard.</p>
+
+<p>4. He had on this last visit remained at the Carillon
+for two days, leaving about 2:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> on the Thursday,
+the previous day.</p>
+
+<p>5. He had carried his hand-bag from the hotel, without
+calling for a taxi.</p>
+
+<p>At first French could not see that these additional facts
+had any bearing on his theory, but as he continued
+turning them over in his mind, he realized that all but one
+might be interpreted as tending in the same direction.</p>
+
+<p>1. Dangle’s visits to Antwerp. Supposing Dangle had
+been planning some secret marine expedition, where,
+French asked himself, could he have found a more suitable
+base from which to make his arrangements? Antwerp was
+a seaport: moreover, it was a great seaport, large enough
+for a secret expedition to set sail from without attracting
+notice. It was a foreign port, away from the inquisitive
+notice of the British police, but, on the other hand, it was
+the nearest great port to London. If these considerations
+did not back up his theory, they at least did not conflict
+with it.</p>
+
+<p>2. Why had Dangle put up at the Carillon? The hotels
+near the station were the obvious ones for English visitors.
+Could it be because the Place Verte was close to the river
+and the shipping? This, French admitted to himself,
+sounded farfetched, and yet it might be the truth.</p>
+
+<p>3. The dispersal and disappearance of the gang
+immediately on the probability of its activities becoming known
+to the police looked suspiciously like a flight.</p>
+
+<p>4. Could it be that Dangle’s arrival in Antwerp was
+ahead of schedule, that is, the flight brought him there two
+days before the expedition was to start? Or could it be that
+on his arrival he immediately set to work to organize the
+departure, but was unable to complete his arrangements
+for two days? At least, it might be so.</p>
+
+<p>Lastly, had he carried his bag from the hotel for the
+same reason as he might have chosen the hotel: that he
+was going, not to the station, but the few hundred yards
+to the quays, thence to start on this maritime expedition?
+Again, it might be so.</p>
+
+<p>French was fully aware that the whole of these elaborate
+considerations had the actual stability of a house of
+cards. Each and every one of his deductions might be
+erroneous and the facts might be capable of an entirely
+different construction. Still, there was at least a suggestion
+that Dangle might have left Antwerp by water shortly
+after two o’clock on the previous day. It was the one
+constructive idea French could evolve, and he decided that
+in the absence of anything better he would try to follow
+it up.</p>
+
+<p>It was too late to do anything that night. After dinner,
+therefore, he had another walk, spent an hour in a
+cinema, and then went early to bed, so as to be fresh for
+his labors of the following day.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch17">
+
+<h2>Chapter XVII. <br> On the Flood Tide</h2>
+
+<p>French was astir betimes next morning, and over his
+coffee and rolls and honey he laid his plans for the day.
+As to the next step of his investigation he had no doubt.
+He must begin by finding out what vessels had left the
+city after 2:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> on the previous Thursday. That
+done, he could go into the question of the passengers each
+carried, in the hope of learning that Dangle was among
+them.</p>
+
+<p>At the outset he was faced by the handicap of being a
+stranger in a strange land. If Antwerp had been an
+English port he would have known just where to get his
+information, but here he was unfamiliar with the ropes. He did
+not know if all sailings were published in any paper or
+available to the public at any office; moreover, his
+ignorance of both French and Flemish precluded his mixing
+with clerks or dock loafers from whom he might pick up
+information. Of course there were the Belgian police, but
+he did not wish to apply to them if he could carry out his
+job by himself.</p>
+
+<p>However, this part of his problem proved easier of
+solution than he had expected. Inquiries at the post office
+revealed the fact that there was a shipping agency in the
+Rue des Tanneurs, and soon he had reached the place,
+found a clerk who spoke English, and put his question.</p>
+
+<p>When French wished to be suave, as he usually did, he
+could, so to speak, have wheedled his best bone from a
+bulldog. Now, explaining in a friendly and confidential
+manner who he was and why he wanted the information,
+he begged the other’s good offices. The clerk, flattered at
+being thus courteously approached, showed a willingness
+to assist, with the result that in ten minutes French had
+the particulars he needed.</p>
+
+<p>He turned into a café, and calling for a bock, sat down
+to consider what he had learned. And of this the very first
+fact filled him with delight, as it seemed to fit in with the
+theory he had evolved.</p>
+
+<p>On Thursday it had been high water at 2:30 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> By
+2:30 the dock gates had been opened, and it appeared
+that, taking advantage of this, several steamers had left
+shortly after that hour.</p>
+
+<p>This was distinctly encouraging, and French turned to
+the list of ships with a growing hope that the end of his
+investigation might be coming into sight. In all, eleven
+steamers had left the port on the day in question, between
+the hours of 2:00 and 6:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span>, the period he had
+included in his inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>There was first of all a Canadian Pacific liner, which
+had sailed from the quays at 3:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span>, and at 3:30 a
+small passenger boat had left for Oslo and Bergen. The remaining
+boats were tramps. There were four coasters, two for
+Newcastle, one for Goole, and one for Belfast, a 6,000
+tonner for Singapore and the Dutch Islands, another
+slightly smaller ship for Genoa and Spezia, and another
+for Boston, U.S.A. Then there was a big five-masted sailing
+ship, bound with a general cargo for Buenos Aires and
+the River Platte, and finally there was a small freighter in
+ballast for Casablanca.</p>
+
+<p>Of these eleven ships, the windjammer at once
+attracted French’s attention. Here was a vessel on which, if
+you took a passage, you might easily require three dozen
+tins of peaches before you reached your journey’s end. He
+determined to begin with this, taking the other ships in
+order according to the position of their offices. Fortunately
+in each case the clerk had given him the name of the
+owners or agents.</p>
+
+<p>His first call, therefore, was at an old-fashioned office
+in a small street close to the Steen Museum. There he
+saw M. Leblanc, the owner of the windjammer, and
+explained his business. But M. Leblanc could not help
+him. The old gentleman had never heard of Dangle nor
+had any one resembling his visitor’s photograph called or
+done any business with his firm. Moreover, no passengers
+had shipped on the windjammer, and the crew that had
+sailed was unchanged since the previous voyage.</p>
+
+<p>This was not encouraging, and French went on to the
+next item on his program, the headquarters of the small
+freighter which had sailed in ballast for Casablanca. She
+was owned by Messrs. Merkel &amp; Lowenthal, whose office
+was farther down the Rue des Tanneurs, and five minutes
+later he had pushed open the door and was inquiring for
+the principal.</p>
+
+<p>This was a more modern establishment than that of M.
+Leblanc. Though small, the office ran to plate glass
+windows, teak furniture, polished brass fittings, and encaustic
+tiles, while the two typists he could envisage through the
+small inquiry window seemed unduly gorgeous as to
+raiment and pert as to demeanor.</p>
+
+<p>He was kept waiting for some minutes, then told that
+M. Merkel, the head of the business, was away, but that
+M. Lowenthal, the junior partner, would see him.</p>
+
+<p>His first glance told French that M. Lowenthal was a
+man to be watched. Seldom had he seen so many of the
+tell-tale signs of roguery concentrated in the features of
+one person. The junior partner had a mean, sly look, close-set,
+shifty eyes which would not meet French’s, and a large
+mouth with loose, fleshy lips. His manner was in accord
+with his appearance, now blustering, now almost
+fulsomely ingratiating. French took an instant dislike to him,
+and though he remained courteous as ever, he determined
+not to lay his cards on the table.</p>
+
+<p>“My name,” he began, “as you will have seen from my
+card, is French, and I carry out the business of a general
+agent in London. I am trying to obtain an interview with
+a friend, who has been staying here, off and on, for some
+time. I came on here from Brussels in the hope of seeing
+him, but he had just left. I was told that he had sailed
+with your ship, the <i>L’Escaut</i>, on Thursday afternoon, and
+if so I called to ask at which port I should be likely to get
+in touch with him. His name is Dangle.”</p>
+
+<p>While French spoke he watched the other narrowly, on
+his favorite theory that the involuntary replies to
+unexpected remarks—starts, changes of expression, sudden
+pallors—were more valuable than spoken answers.</p>
+
+<p>But M. Lowenthal betrayed no emotion other than a
+mild surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“That iss a very egstraordinary statement, sir,” he said
+in heavy guttural tones. “I do not really know who could
+haf given you such misleading information. Your friend’s
+name is quite unknown to me, and in any case we do not
+take passengers on our ships.”</p>
+
+<p>This seemed an entirely reasonable and proper reply,
+and yet to French’s highly developed instincts it did not
+ring true. However, he could do nothing more, and after
+a little further conversation containing not a few veiled
+inquiries, all of which, he noted, were skillfully parried by
+the other, he apologized for his mistake and withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>Though he was dissatisfied with the interview, he could
+only continue his program. He recognized that the
+secret might be located in Canada or the States, and that
+Dangle might have booked on the C.P.R. liner. Or he
+might have gone to Norway—indeed, for the matter of
+that, he might have signed on on any of the ships for any
+part of the world.</p>
+
+<p>But after a tedious morning of calls and interviews,
+French had to confess defeat. He could get no farther. At
+none of the offices at which he applied had he obtained the
+slightest helpful hint. It began to look as if he had been
+mistaken as to Dangle’s sea expedition, and if so, as he
+reminded himself with exasperation, he had no alternative
+theory to follow up.</p>
+
+<p>He strolled slowly along the pleasant, sunlit streets, as
+he reviewed his morning’s work. He was satisfied with all
+his interviews but the one. Everywhere save in M.
+Lowenthal’s office he felt he had been told the truth. But
+instinctively he distrusted the junior partner. That the man had
+lied to him he had no reason to suspect, but he had no
+doubt that he would do so if it suited his book.</p>
+
+<p>French felt that it was unsatisfactory to leave the
+matter in this state, and he presently thought of a simple
+subterfuge whereby it might be cleared up. It was almost the
+lunch hour, a suitable time for putting his project into
+operation. He hurried back to the Rue des Tanneurs, and
+turning into a café nearly opposite Messrs. Merkel &amp;
+Lowenthal’s premises, ordered a bock and selected a seat
+from which he could observe the office door.</p>
+
+<p>He was only just in time. He had not taken his place
+five minutes when he saw M. Lowenthal emerge and walk
+off towards the center of the town. Three men clerks and
+the two rapid-looking typists followed, and lastly there
+appeared the person for whom he was waiting—the sharp-looking
+office boy who had attended to him earlier in the
+day.</p>
+
+<p>The boy turned off in the opposite direction to his
+principal—towards a quarter inhabited by laborers and
+artisans, and French, getting up from his table, slipped
+quietly out of the café and followed him.</p>
+
+<p>The chase continued for some ten minutes, when the
+quarry disappeared into a small house in a back street.
+French strolled up and down until some half an hour
+later the young fellow reappeared. As he approached
+French allowed a look of recognition and slight surprise
+to appear on his features.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah,” he said, pausing with a friendly smile, “you are
+the clerk who attended to me this morning in Messrs.
+Merkel &amp; Lowenthal’s office, are you not? A piece of luck
+meeting you! I wonder if you could give me a piece of
+information? I forgot to ask it of M. Lowenthal this morning,
+and as I am in a hurry, it would be worth five francs to
+me not to have to go back to your office.”</p>
+
+<p>The youth’s eyes had brightened at the suggestion of
+financial dealings, and French felt he would learn all the
+other could tell him. He therefore continued without
+waiting for a reply.</p>
+
+<p>“The thing is this: I am joining my friend, M. Dangle,
+aboard the <i>L’Escaut</i> at the first opportunity. It was
+arranged between us that one of us should take with him
+a couple of dozen of champagne. I want to know whether
+he took the stuff, or whether I am to. Can you help me at
+all?”</p>
+
+<p>The clerk’s English, though fairly good, was not quite
+equal to such a strain, and French had to repeat himself
+less idiomatically. But the boy grasped his meaning at
+last, and then at once dashed his hopes by saying he had
+never heard of any M. Dangle.</p>
+
+<p>“There he is,” French went on, producing his
+photograph. “You must have seen him scores of times.”</p>
+
+<p>And then French got the reward of his pertinacity. A
+look of recognition passed over the clerk’s features, and he
+made a gesture of comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Mais oui, m’sieur</i>; yes, sir,” he answered quickly, “but
+that is not M. Danggalle. I know him: it is M. Charles.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right,” French returned, trying to keep the
+triumph out of his voice. “His name is Dangle Charles. I
+know him as M. Dangle, because he is one of four brothers
+at our works. But of course he would give his name here as
+M. Charles. But now, can you tell me anything about the
+champagne?”</p>
+
+<p>The clerk shook his head. He had not known upon what
+business M. Charles had called at the office.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, it can’t be helped,” French declared. “I
+thought that perhaps when he was in with you last
+Wednesday you might have heard something about it. You
+don’t know what luggage he took aboard the <i>L’Escaut</i>?”</p>
+
+<p>The clerk had not been aware that M. Charles had
+embarked on the freighter, still less did he know of what
+his luggage had consisted. But as French talked on in his
+pleasant way, the following facts became apparent; first,
+that Dangle for some weeks past had been an occasional
+visitor at the shipping office; second, that on the previous
+Wednesday he had been closeted with the partners for the
+greater part of the day; third, that the <i>L’Escaut</i> had
+evidently sailed on an expedition of considerable importance
+and length, for a vast deal of stores had gone aboard her,
+about which both partners had shown very keen anxiety;
+fourthly, that not only had M. Merkel, the senior partner,
+himself sailed on her, but it was likely that he intended to
+be away some time as M. Lowenthal had moved into his
+room, and lastly, that the <i>L’Escaut</i> had come up from the
+firm’s yard during the Wednesday night and had anchored
+in the river off the Steen until she left about 3:00 <span
+class="sc">p.m.</span> on the Thursday.</p>
+
+<p>These admissions made it abundantly clear that French
+was once more on the right track, and he handed over his
+five francs with the feeling that he had made the cheapest
+bargain of his life.</p>
+
+<p>He had no doubt that Dangle had sailed with the senior
+partner on the tramp, but he felt he must make sure, and
+he walked slowly back towards the quays, turning over in
+his mind possible methods for settling the point. One
+inquiry seemed promising. If the ship had lain at anchor
+out in the river, and if Dangle had gone aboard her, he
+must have had a boat to do so. French wondered could he
+find that boat.</p>
+
+<p>He felt himself held up by the language difficulty. Up to
+the present he had had extraordinary luck in this respect,
+but then up to the present he had been interviewing
+educated persons whose business brought them in contact with
+foreigners. He doubted if he could make boatmen and
+loafers about the quays understand what he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>A trial convinced him that his fears were well founded,
+and he lost a solid hour in finding the Berlitz School and
+engaging a young linguist with a reputation for discretion.
+Then, accompanied by M. Jules Renard, he returned to
+the quays and set systematically to work. He began by
+inquiring where boats might be hired, and where there
+were steps at which ships’ boats might come alongside.
+Taking these in turn he asked had the boatmen taken a
+passenger out to the <i>L’Escaut</i> between 2:00 and 3:00 <span
+class="sc">p.m.</span> on the previous Thursday? Or had the loafer, stevedore,
+shunter, or constable, as the case might be, noticed if a
+boat had come ashore from the same vessel on the same
+date and at the same time?</p>
+
+<p>Though the work was easy it bade fair to be tedious,
+and therefore for more than one reason French felt a glow
+of satisfaction when at his fourth inquiry his question
+received an affirmative answer. A wizened old man, one of
+a small knot of longshoremen whom M. Renard addressed,
+separated himself from his companions and came forward.
+He said that he was a boatman, and that he had been
+hailed by a man—an Englishman, he believed—at the time
+stated, and had rowed him out to the ship.</p>
+
+<p>“Ask him if that’s the man,” French directed, producing
+Dangle’s photograph, though he felt there could be no
+doubt as to the reply.</p>
+
+<p>He was therefore immensely dashed when the boatman
+shook his head. This was not the man at all. The traveler
+was a short, rather stout man with a small fair mustache.</p>
+
+<p>French gasped. The description sounded familiar.
+Taking out Blessington’s photograph he passed it over.</p>
+
+<p>This time the boatman nodded. Yes, that was the man
+he had rowed out. He had no doubt of him whatever.</p>
+
+<p>This was unexpected but most welcome news, though as
+French thought over it, he saw that it was not so surprising
+after all. If Dangle was in it, why not Blessington, and for
+the matter of that, why not Sime also? In this case he
+wondered where Susan could be, and more acutely, what
+had been the fate of Joan Merrill. Possibly, he thought, his
+inquiries about Dangle would solve these questions also.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later he struck oil for the second time.
+Another boatman, a little further along the quays, had
+also rowed a passenger out to the <i>L’Escaut</i>, and this one, it
+appeared, was Dangle. But though French kept working
+steadily away, he could hear nothing of Sime.</p>
+
+<p>In the end it was a suggestion of Renard’s that put him
+once more on the trail. The interpreter proved an
+intelligent youth, and when he had grasped the point at issue,
+he stopped and pointed to the river.</p>
+
+<p>“You say, monsieur, that the sheep, she lie there, opposite
+the Musée Steen, is it not so? <i>Bon!</i> We haf walked along
+all the quays near to that. Your friends would not haf
+hired boat from farther on—it is too far. You say, too, they
+come from England secretly, is it not? <i>Bon!</i> They would
+come to the other side.”</p>
+
+<p>French did not understand.</p>
+
+<p>“The other side?” he repeated questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>“But yes, monsieur, the other side.” The young fellow’s
+eyes flashed in his eagerness. “Over there, La Gare de
+Waes.” He pointed out across the great stream to its west
+bank.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t know there was a station across there,” French
+admitted. “Where does the line go to?”</p>
+
+<p>“Direct to Ghent. Your friends change trains at Ghent.
+It is a quiet railway. They come unseen.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good man,” said French heartily. “We’ll go and find out.
+How do you get to the blessed place?”</p>
+
+<p>M. Renard smiled delightedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah yes, monsieur. You weesh to cross? Is it not?” he
+cried. “This way. We take ferry from the Quai Van Dyck.
+It is near.”</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later they had reached the Tête de Flandre—the
+low-lying western bank of the Scheldt. It bore a
+small but not unpicturesque cluster of old-fashioned houses,
+nestling about one of the historic Antwerp forts. Renard,
+now apparently quite as interested in the chase as French,
+led the way along the river bank from boatman to
+boatman, with the result that before very many minutes had
+passed French had obtained the information he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>It appeared that about 1:00 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> on the day in
+question, a strapping young boatman had noticed three strangers
+approaching from the direction of the Waes Station, a
+hundred yards or more distant. They consisted of a tall,
+clean-shaven man of something under middle age and two
+women, both young. One was tall and strongly made and
+dark as to hair and eyes, the other was slighter and with
+red gold hair. The smaller one seemed to be ill, and was
+stumbling along between the other two, each of whom
+supported her by an arm. None of the trio could speak
+French or Flemish, but they managed by signs to convey
+the information that they wanted to be put on board
+the <i>L’Escaut</i>, which was lying out in midstream. The man
+had rowed them out, and they had been received on board
+by an elderly gentleman with a dark beard.</p>
+
+<p>Further questions produced the information that the fair
+lady appeared to be seriously ill, though whether it was her
+mind or body that was affected, the boatman couldn’t be
+sure. She was able to walk, but would not do so unless
+urged on by the others. She had not spoken or taken any
+interest in the journey. She had not appeared even to look
+round her, but had sat gazing listlessly at nothing, with a
+vacant expression in her eyes. Her companions had had
+real difficulty in getting her up the short ladder on to
+the <i>L’Escaut’s</i> deck.</p>
+
+<p>The news was rather unexpected to French. About Joan
+Merrill it was both disconcerting and reassuring; the
+former because he could not see that the gang had anything
+but a sinister reason for inveigling the young girl aboard
+the ship—probably she will fall overboard at night, he
+thought; the latter because she was at least still alive, or
+had been two days ago. It was quite evident that she was
+drugged, probably with morphine or something similar. It
+might, however, mean that while wishing Joan no harm,
+they were taking her with them on their expedition to
+insure her silence as to their movements.</p>
+
+<p>As French returned across the ferry, he kept on puzzling
+as to Lowenthal’s position. Could Lowenthal be arrested?
+Was he in league with the gang? If so, could he be held
+responsible for the abduction of Joan Merrill? French
+didn’t think the evidence would justify drastic measures.
+He had, as a matter of fact, no actual evidence against
+Lowenthal. Of his complicity he was satisfied, but he
+doubted if he could prove it.</p>
+
+<p>He got rid of the young interpreter, and strolling slowly
+along the quays, thought the matter out. No, he had not a
+enough case with which to go to the Belgian police.
+But he could do the next best thing. He could call on
+M. Lowenthal for the second time, and try to bluff an
+admission out of him.</p>
+
+<p>As he walked to the Rue des Tanneurs, he felt his
+prospects were not rosy. But at least he had no difficulty in
+obtaining his interview. M. Lowenthal seemed surprised to
+see him so soon again, but received him politely, and asked
+what he could do for him.</p>
+
+<p>“I want to ask you another question, M. Lowenthal, if
+you please,” French answered in his pleasantest manner,
+“and first I must tell you that the agency I hold is that
+of Detective Inspector at New Scotland Yard in London.
+My question is this: When you and M. Merkel entered
+into relations with Blessington, Sime, and the Dangles, did
+you know that they were dangerous criminals wanted by
+the English police?”</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the most evident efforts for self-control,
+Lowenthal was so much taken aback that he could not for
+some moments speak. His swarthy face turned a greenish
+hue and little drops of sweat showed on his forehead. To
+the other pleasant characteristics with which French had
+mentally endowed him, he now added that of coward, and
+his hopes of his bluff succeeding grew brighter. He sat
+waiting in silence for the other to recover himself, then
+said suavely:</p>
+
+<p>“After that, M. Lowenthal, you will see for yourself that
+you cannot plead ignorance of the affair. Let me advise
+you for your own sake to be open with me.”</p>
+
+<p>The man pulled himself together. He wiped his brow as
+he replied earnestly, but in somewhat shaky accents:</p>
+
+<p>“That I haf met Blessington, Sime, and Dangle I do not
+deny, though they were Merkel’s friends—not mine. But I
+do not know that they are criminal. Dangle, he called here
+and asked Merkel to take him on the next”—he hesitated
+for a word—“next work, next sail of the sheep. Merkel
+said that Dangle iss a writer—he writes books. He weeshed
+to see the sail to Casablanca to deescribe it in hiss book.
+Merkel said he would haf to pay fare, the firm could not
+afford it unless. Dangle agreed. Merkel was going himself,
+and Dangle suggested Sime and Blessington go also to
+make party—to play cards. Of a second Dangle I know
+nothing. They went secretly—I admit it—because the law
+forbids to take passengers for sail without a certificate.
+That is all of the affair.”</p>
+
+<p>Not a single word of this statement did French believe,
+but he saw that unless he could get some further
+information, or surprise this Lowenthal into some more damaging
+admission, he could not have him arrested. After all, the
+story hung together. Merkel might conceivably be playing
+his own game, and have pitched the yarn of the author
+out for copy to his partner. The contravention of the
+shipping laws would undoubtedly account for the secrecy with
+which the start was made. Certainly there was no evidence
+to bring before a jury.</p>
+
+<p>French proceeded to question the junior partner with
+considerable thoroughness, but he could not shake his
+statement. The only additional facts he learned were that
+the <i>L’Escaut</i> was going to Casablanca on the order of the
+Moroccan Government to load up a cargo of agricultural
+samples for the Italian market, and that M. Merkel was
+accompanying it simply as a holiday trip.</p>
+
+<p>With this French had to be content, and he went to the
+post office, and got through on the long distance telephone
+to his chief at the Yard. To him he repeated the essentials
+of the tale, asking him to inquire from the Moroccan
+authorities as to the truth of their portion of it, as well as
+to endeavor to trace the <i>L’Escaut</i>.</p>
+
+<p>On leaving the post office, it occurred to him that
+communication with the <i>L’Escaut</i> should be possible by
+wireless, and he returned to the Rue des Tanneurs to ascertain
+this point. There he was told that just after he had left
+M. Lowenthal had received a telephone call, requiring his
+immediate presence in Holland, and he had with a great
+rush caught the afternoon express for the Dutch capital.</p>
+
+<p>“Skedaddled, by Jove!” said French to himself. “Guess
+that lets in the Belgian police.”</p>
+
+<p>He called at headquarters, and saw the officer in charge,
+and before he left to catch the connection for London, it
+had been arranged that the movements of the junior
+partner should be gone into, and a watch kept for the return
+of that enterprising weaver of fairy tales.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch18">
+
+<h2>Chapter XVIII. <br> A Visitor from India</h2>
+
+<p>When French reached Victoria, the first person he saw on
+the platform was Maxwell Cheyne.</p>
+
+<p>“They told me at the Yard that you might be on this
+train,” the young man said excitedly as he elbowed his
+way forward. “Any news? Anything about Miss Merrill?”</p>
+
+<p>He looked old and worn, and it was evident that his
+anxiety was telling on him. In his eagerness he could
+scarcely wait for the Inspector to dismount from his
+carriage, and his loud tones were attracting curious looks
+from the bystanders.</p>
+
+<p>“Get a taxi,” French answered quietly. “We can talk
+there.”</p>
+
+<p>A few seconds later they found a vehicle, and Cheyne,
+gripping the other by the arm, went on earnestly:</p>
+
+<p>“Tell me. I can see you have learned something. Is she—all
+right?”</p>
+
+<p>“I got news of her on Thursday last. She was all right
+then, though still under the influence of a drug. The whole
+party has gone to sea.”</p>
+
+<p>“To sea?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, to sea in a small tramp. I don’t know what they
+are up to, but there is no reason to suppose Miss Merrill is
+otherwise than well. Probably they took her with them to
+prevent her giving them away. They would drug her to get
+her to go along, but would cease it as soon as she was on
+board. I wired for inquiries to be made at the different
+signal stations, and news may be waiting for us at the
+Yard.”</p>
+
+<p>A few seconds sufficed to put Cheyne in possession of
+the salient facts which French had learned, and the latter
+in his turn asked for news.</p>
+
+<p>“By Jove, yes!” Cheyne cried, “there is news. You
+remember that Arnold Price had disappeared? Well,
+yesterday I had a letter from him!”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t say so?” French rejoined in surprise.
+“Where did he write from?”</p>
+
+<p>“Bombay. He was shortly leaving for home. He expects
+to be here in about a month.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what about his disappearance?”</p>
+
+<p>“He was ill in hospital. He had gone up to Agra on
+some private business and met with an accident—was
+knocked down in the street and was insensible for ages.
+He couldn’t say who he was, and the hospital people in
+Agra couldn’t find out, and he hadn’t told the Bombay
+people where he was going to spend his leave.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he mention the letter?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, he thanked me for taking charge of it and said
+that when he reached home he would relieve me of further
+trouble about it. He little knows!”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s so,” French assented.</p>
+
+<p>Their taxi had been held up by a block at the end of
+Westminster Bridge, but now the mass cleared and in a
+few seconds they reached the Yard.</p>
+
+<p>French’s first care was to get rid of Cheyne. He repeated
+what he had learned about Joan Merrill, then, assuring
+him that the key of the matter lay in the cipher, he
+advised him to go home and try it once more. Directly any
+more news came in he would let him know.</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne having reluctantly taken his departure, French
+made inquiries as to what had been done in reference to
+his telephone from Antwerp. It appeared that the Yard
+had not been idle. In the first place an application had
+been made to the Moroccan Government, who had replied
+that no ship had been chartered by them for freight at
+Casablanca, nor was anything known of agricultural
+samples for the Italian market. Lowenthal’s story must
+therefore have been an absolute fabrication. He had, however,
+told it so readily that French suspected it had been made
+up beforehand, so as to be ready to serve up to any
+inquisitive policeman or detective who might come along.</p>
+
+<p>Next Lloyd’s had been approached, as to the direction
+the <i>L’Escaut</i> had taken, and a reply had shortly before
+come in from them. It stated that up to noon on that day,
+the vessel had not been reported from any of their stations.
+But this, French realized, might not mean so much. If she
+had gone south down the English Channel it would have
+been well on to dark before she reached the Straits of Dover.
+In any case, had she wished to slip through unseen, she
+had only to keep out to the middle of the passage, when
+in ordinary weather she would have been invisible from
+either coast. On the other hand, had she gone north, she
+would almost naturally have kept out of sight of land. It
+was true that in either case she would have been likely to
+pass some other vessel which would have spoken her, and
+the fact that no news of such a recognition had come to
+hand seemed to indicate that she was taking some unusual
+course out of the track of regular shipping.</p>
+
+<p>French wired this information to the Antwerp police,
+and then, his chief being disengaged, went in and gave
+him a detailed account of his adventures in Belgium.</p>
+
+<p>Chief Inspector Mitchell was impressed by the story. He
+sat back in his chair and treated French to a prolonged
+stare as the latter talked. At the end of the recital he
+remained sitting motionless for some moments, whistling
+gently below his breath.</p>
+
+<p>“Any theories?” he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>French shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, no, sir,” he answered slowly. “It’s not easy to see
+what they’re after. And it’s not easy to see, either, why the
+whole gang wanted to go. It looked at first as if they were
+just clearing out because of Cheyne’s coming to the Yard,
+but it’s more than that. The arrangements were made too
+long ago. They have been dealing with that Antwerp firm
+for several weeks.”</p>
+
+<p>“The hard copper was all a story?”</p>
+
+<p>“Looks like it, sir. As a matter of fact every single
+statement those men made that could be tested has been proved
+false. Even when there didn’t seem any great object in a
+yarn they pitched it. Lies seemed to come easier to them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ve known a good few cases of that, and so have
+you, French. It’s a habit that grows. Now, what’s your next
+move?”</p>
+
+<p>French hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>“For the moment the outlook’s not very cheery,” he said
+at last. “All the same I can’t believe that boat can go
+away out of the Scheldt and disappear. In my judgment
+she’s bound to be reported before long, and I’m looking
+forward to getting word of her within the next day or so.
+Then I have no doubt that the tracing is some kind of
+cipher, and if we could read it we should probably get
+light on the whole affair.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why shouldn’t you read it? Try it again.”</p>
+
+<p>“I intend to, sir. But I don’t hope for much result,
+because I don’t believe we’ve got the genuine document.
+I don’t believe they would have handed it, nor a copy of
+it either, to a man they intended to murder, lest it should
+be found on his body. I’d state long odds they gave him
+a fake.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think you’re probably right,” the chief admitted.
+“Try at all events. You never know your luck.”</p>
+
+<p>He bent over his desk, and French, realizing that the
+interview had come to an end, quietly left the room. Then,
+seeing there was nothing requiring his attention urgently,
+and tired after his journey, he went home.</p>
+
+<p>But contrary to his expectations, the next day passed
+without any news of the <i>L’Escaut</i>, and the next, and many
+days after that. Nor could all his efforts with the tracing
+throw any light on that mysterious document. As time
+passed he began to grow more and more despondent, and
+the fear that he was going to make a mess of the case
+grew steadily stronger. In vain he laid his difficulties before
+his wife. For once that final source of inspiration failed
+him. Mrs. French did not take even one illuminating
+notion. When the third week had gone by, something akin
+to despair seized upon the Inspector. The only possibility
+of hope now seemed to lie in the return of Arnold Price,
+and French began counting the days until his arrival.</p>
+
+<p>One night about three weeks after his return from
+Belgium he settled down with a cigar after dinner, his
+thoughts running in their familiar groove: What were
+these people engaged on? Was there any way in which he
+could find out? Had he overlooked any evidence or any
+inquiries? Had he neglected any possible line of research?</p>
+
+<p>The more he considered the affair in all its bearings, the
+more conscious he became of the soundness of the advice
+he had given to Cheyne, and which in his turn he had
+received from his chief. Unquestionably in the tracing lay
+the solution he required, and once again he racked his
+brains to see if he could not by any means devise a way
+to read its message.</p>
+
+<p>On this point he concentrated, going over and over
+again everything he had learned about it. For perhaps an
+hour he remained motionless in his chair, while the smoke
+from his cigar curled up and slowly dissolved into the blue
+haze with which the room was becoming obscured. And
+then suddenly he sat up and with a dawning, tremulous
+eagerness considered an idea which had just leaped into
+his mind.</p>
+
+<p>He had suddenly remembered a statement made by
+Cheyne when he was giving his first rather incoherent
+account of his adventures. The young man said that it had
+been arranged between himself and Joan Merrill that if
+either were lucky enough to get the tracing into his or her
+possession, the first thing he or she would do would be to
+photograph it. Now, in juxtaposition with that statement,
+French recalled the facts, first, that Joan must have
+reached her flat on the night of her abduction at least
+several minutes before Blessington and Sime arrived with
+their car; and secondly, that during those minutes she had
+the tracing with her—the genuine tracing, as there was
+every reason to believe. <em>Had Joan photographed it?</em></p>
+
+<p>French was overwhelmed with amazement and chagrin
+at his failure to think of this point before, nor could he
+acquit Cheyne of a like astounding stupidity. For himself
+he felt there was no excuse whatever. He had even specially
+noticed the girl’s camera and the flashlight apparatus
+which she used for her architectural details when he was
+searching her rooms, but he had then, and since then up
+till this moment, entirely and completely forgotten the
+arrangement made between the partners.</p>
+
+<p>Late as it was, French decided to go then and there to
+ascertain the point. The key of Joan’s flat was at the Yard,
+and twenty minutes later he had obtained it and was in a
+taxi bowling towards Horne Terrace.</p>
+
+<p>He kept the vehicle while he ran up the ten flights to
+No. 12 and secured the camera. Then hastening down, he
+was driven back to the Yard.</p>
+
+<p>By a piece of good luck he found a photographer who
+had been delayed by other important work, and him he
+pressed into the service forthwith. With some grumbling
+the man returned to his dark room. French, too eager to
+await his report, accompanying him.</p>
+
+<p>A few moments sufficed to settle the question. The
+camera contained a roll of films of which the first seven
+had been exposed, and a short immersion in the developer
+showed that numbers 5, 6, and 7 bore the hoped for
+impress.</p>
+
+<p>Gone was French’s despondency and the weariness
+caused by his heavy day, and instead he was once more
+the embodiment of enthusiasm and cheery optimism. He
+had it now! At last the secret was within his grasp! Of his
+ability to read the message, now that he was sure he had
+the genuine one, he had no doubt. He had always liked
+working out ciphers, and since he had succeeded in
+extracting the hidden meaning from the stock and share
+list which had been sent to the elusive Mrs. X in the
+Gething murder case, his belief in his own powers had
+become almost an obsession. He could hardly restrain his
+eagerness to get to grips with this new problem until the
+negatives should be dry and prints made.</p>
+
+<p>The photographer was able to promise these for the
+following day, and till then French had to possess his soul
+in patience. But on his return from lunch he found on his
+desk three excellent prints of the document.</p>
+
+<p>They were only half-plate size, or about one-third that
+of the tracing which had been given to Cheyne. He
+therefore instructed the photographer to prepare enlargements
+which would bring the document up to more nearly the
+size of the original. These were ready before it was time
+for him to leave for home, and he sat down with
+ill-controlled excitement to compare them with the document
+at which he had already spent so much time.</p>
+
+<p>And then he suddenly experienced one of the most bitter
+disappointments of his life. To all intents and purposes the
+two were the same! There were the same circles, the same
+numbers, letters, and signs enclosed therein, the same
+phrase, “England expects every man to do his duty,”
+spaced round in the same way! The tracing had not been
+very accurately done, as some of the circles seemed slightly
+out of place, but the discrepancies were trifling, and
+seemed obviously due to careless copying. He gave vent to
+a single bitter oath, then sat motionless, wrapped in the
+most profound gloom.</p>
+
+<p>He took tracing and photographs home with him, and
+spent the greater part of the evening making a minute
+comparison between the two. The enlargement unfortunately
+was not exactly the same size as the tracing, and
+he therefore began his work by covering the surfaces of
+both with proportionate squares.</p>
+
+<p>Taking the tracing first he drew parallel lines one inch
+apart both up and down it and across, thus covering its
+whole surface with inch squares. Then he divided the
+prints into the same number of equal parts both vertically
+and horizontally and ruled them up in squares also. These
+squares were slightly smaller than the others—about
+seven-eighths of an inch only—but relatively the lines fell on
+each in the same positions. A comparison according to the
+squares thus showed at a glance similarity or otherwise
+between the two documents.</p>
+
+<p>As he examined them in detail certain interesting facts
+began to emerge. The general appearance, the words
+“England expects every man to do his duty,” and the
+circles with their attendant letters and numbers were
+identical on both sheets. But there were striking variations. The
+position of certain of the circles was different. Those
+containing numbers and crooked lines were all slightly out of
+place, while those containing letters remained unmoved.
+Moreover, the little crooked lines, while preserving a rough
+resemblance to the originals, were altered in shape. The
+more he considered the matter the more evident it became
+to French that these divergences were intentional. The
+tracing which had been given to Cheyne was intended to
+resemble the other superficially—and did so resemble it,
+but it had clearly been faked to make it valueless.</p>
+
+<figure>
+  <img src="images/tracing.png"
+       alt="A full-page image of dozens of circles. Their arrangement
+appears to be random. Most circles contains either a letter or a
+number, with the numbers ranging from 1 to 36. Eight or nine circles
+instead contain a short, irregularly-shaped line. Words are placed in
+between the circles, arranged in a loop through the entire image,
+reading clockwise “England expects every man to do his duty”.">
+</figure>
+
+<p>If French were right so far, and he had but little doubt
+of it, it followed that the essential feature of the circles
+and crooked lines was position. This, he felt, should be a
+useful hint, but as yet he could not see where it led.</p>
+
+<p>He pondered fruitlessly over the problem till the small
+hours, and next morning he took the documents back to
+the Yard to continue his studies. But he did not have an
+opportunity to do so. Other work was waiting for him. To
+his delight he found that Arnold Price had reached home,
+and that he and Cheyne were waiting to see him.</p>
+
+<p>Price proved to be a lanky and rather despondent-looking
+individual with a skin burned to the color of
+copper and a pair of exceedingly shrewd blue eyes. He dropped
+into the chair French indicated, and instantly pulled out
+and lit a well-blackened cutty pipe.</p>
+
+<p>“Got in yesterday morning,” he announced laconically,
+“and wired Torquay I was going down. By the merest luck
+I got a reply before I started that Cheyne was in town. I
+looked him up and here I am.”</p>
+
+<p>French smiled pleasantly. Though interested in the man,
+he could not help noting with some amusement at once
+the restraint and the completeness of his statement. How
+refreshing, he thought, and how rare, to meet some one
+who will give you the pith of a story without frills!</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Price,” he said cordially.
+“I suppose Mr. Cheyne has told you the effect that your
+letter has had on us all?”</p>
+
+<p>The other nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Not altogether surprising,” he declared. “There’s
+money in the thing—or so I always believed, and this other
+crowd must believe it too; though how they got on to the
+affair licks me.”</p>
+
+<p>“We shall be very much interested to hear what you can
+tell us about it,” French prompted. “Will you smoke, Mr.
+Cheyne?” He held out his cigar case.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t tell you much,” Price returned, “and nothing
+that will clear up this blessed mystery that seems to have
+started up. But this is my story for what it’s worth. Before
+the war I was on one of the Hudson and Spence boats
+and I had the luck to get into the R.N.R. when hostilities
+broke out. I stayed on in my old ship till she was torpedoed
+a couple of years later, then I was appointed third officer
+on the <i>Maurania</i>. We were on a trip from South Africa to
+Brest with army stores, when one day, just as we came into
+the English Channel, we were attacked by a U-boat. We
+had an 18-pounder forward, and by a stroke of luck we
+gave old Fritz one on the knob that did him in. The boat
+went down and a dozen of the crew were left swimming.
+We put out a boat and picked one or two of them up.
+The skipper was clinging on to a lifebelt, but just as we
+came up he let go and began to sink. I was in charge of
+the boat, and some fool notion came over me—I think in
+the hurry I forgot he was a U-boat skipper—but anyhow
+like a fool I got overboard and got hold of him. It was
+nothing like a dramatic rescue—there was no danger to
+me—and we were back on board inside fifteen minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>French and Cheyne were listening intently to this
+familiar story. So far it was almost word for word that told
+by Dangle. Apparently, then, there was at least one point
+on which the latter had told the truth.</p>
+
+<p>“We weren’t out of trouble,” Price resumed, “and next
+day we came up against another submarine. We exchanged
+a few shots and then a British destroyer came up and drove
+him off. But I had the luck to stop a splinter of shell, and
+when we got to Brest I was sent to hospital. The U-boat
+skipper had got a crack on the head when his boat went
+down, and he was sent in too. By a chance we got side by
+side beds in the same ward, and used to talk a bit, though
+he was a rotter, even for a Boche.”</p>
+
+<p>Price paused to draw on his cutty pipe, expelling great
+clouds of smoke of a peculiarly acrid and penetrating
+quality. Then, the others not speaking, he went on:</p>
+
+<p>“It turned out that the wound on Schulz’s head—his
+name was Schulz—was serious, and he grew steadily worse.
+Then one night when the ward was quiet, he woke me and
+said he knew his number was up and that he had a secret
+to tell me. We listened, but all the other fellows seemed
+asleep, and then he told me he could put me in the way of
+a fortune—that he had hoped to get it himself after the
+war, but now that it would be a job for someone else. He
+said he would tell me the whole thing, and that I might
+make what I could out of it, if only I would pledge myself
+to give one-eighth of what I got to his wife. He gave me
+the address—somewhere in Breslau. He asked me to swear
+this and I did, and then he took a packet from under his
+pillow and handed it to me. ‘There,’ he said, ‘the whole
+thing’s there. I put it in cipher for safety, but I’ll tell you
+how to read it.’ Well, he began to do so, but just then a
+sister came in, and he shut up till she would leave. But
+the excitement of talking about the thing must have been
+too much for him. He got a weak turn and never spoke
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>“But,” Cheyne interposed, “what about the hard
+copper? Dangle told us about Schulz’s discovery.”</p>
+
+<p>Price gazed at him vacantly for some moments and then
+suddenly smote the table.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got it!” he cried with an oath. “Dangle! I remember
+that chap now! He was in the next bed on the other
+side of Schulz. That’s right! I couldn’t call him to mind
+when you mentioned him before. Of course! He heard the
+whole tale, and that’s what started him on this do.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know,” Cheyne returned. “He admitted that all right.
+But he told us about the hard copper. You haven’t
+mentioned that.”</p>
+
+<p>Price shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he declared.
+“What do you mean by hard copper?”</p>
+
+<p>“Dangle mentioned it. He was listening to the conversation.
+He told us all that about Schulz’s story of the fortune,
+and about his wife and all that, just as you have,
+but he said Schulz went on to explain what the fortune
+was: that he had hit on a way of treating copper that made
+it as hard as steel. The cipher contained the formula.”</p>
+
+<p>Again Price shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“All spoof,” he observed. “Not a word of truth in it.
+Schulz never mentioned copper or said anything more than
+I’ve told you.”</p>
+
+<p>French spoke for the first time.</p>
+
+<p>“We found this Dangle a man of imagination, all
+through, and it is easy to see why he invented that particular
+yarn. By that time he had undoubtedly read the cipher,
+and he wanted something to mislead Mr. Cheyne as to its
+contents. The story of the hard copper would start a bias
+in Mr. Cheyne’s mind which would tend to keep him off
+the real scent.” He paused, but his companions not
+speaking, continued: “Now we have that bias cleared away, at
+least one interesting fact emerges. The whole business
+starts with the sea—the U-boat commander, Schulz, and
+it looks as if it was going to end up with the sea, the
+tramp, the <i>L’Escaut</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>As French said these words an idea flashed into his
+mind, and he went on deliberately, but with growing
+excitement:</p>
+
+<p>“And when we connect the idea of a U-boat commander
+giving a message which ends with a sea expedition,
+with the fact, which I have just discovered, that the
+essence of his cipher is the <em>position</em> of the markings on it,
+we seem to be getting somewhere.”</p>
+
+<p>Price smote his thigh.</p>
+
+<p>“By Jemima!” he cried. “I’ve got you. That blessed
+tracing is a map!”</p>
+
+<p>“A map, yes. That’s what I think,” French answered
+eagerly, and then as suddenly he saw the possible
+significance of Nelson’s exhortation, he went on dramatically:
+“A map of England!”</p>
+
+<p>Cheyne swore softly.</p>
+
+<p>“My word, if we aren’t a set of blithering idiots!” he
+exclaimed. “Of course! ‘England’ is the title. That’s as
+clear as day! The other words are added as a blind. Let’s
+have the thing out, Inspector, and see if we can’t make
+something of it now.”</p>
+
+<p>As French produced his enlarged photographs not one
+of the three men doubted that they were at last well on
+the way towards wresting the secret from the document
+which had so long baffled them.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch19">
+
+<h2>Chapter XIX. <br> The Message of the Tracing</h2>
+
+<p>Inspector French spread the photograph on his desk,
+and Cheyne and Price having drawn up chairs, all three
+gazed at it as if expecting that in the light of their great
+idea its message would have become obvious.</p>
+
+<p>But in this they were disappointed. The suggestion did
+not seem in any way to help either French or Cheyne, and
+Price, who of course had not seen the document before, was
+satisfactorily mystified. Granted that the thing was a map,
+granted even that it was a map of England, its meaning
+remained just as provokingly hidden as ever.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Price gave vent to an exclamation. “Hang it
+all!” he cried irritably, and then: “I suppose those numbers
+couldn’t be soundings? Could they give depths at the
+circles?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s an idea,” Cheyne cried, but French shook his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>“I think there’s more in it than that,” he observed. “If
+you examine those numbers you’ll find that they’re
+consecutive, they run from one to thirty-six. Soundings wouldn’t
+lend themselves to such an arrangement. You may be right,
+Mr. Price, and we must keep your idea in view, but I don’t
+see it working out for the moment.”</p>
+
+<p>Silence reigned for a few moments, then Price sat back
+from the table and spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here, Inspector,” he said, knocking the ashes out
+of his pipe and beginning to fill it with his strong, black
+mixture, “you said something just now I didn’t quite
+follow. Let’s get your notion clear. You talked of this thing
+beginning with the sea—at Schulz, and ending with the
+sea—at <i>L’Escaut</i>, and Schulz’s message being a map. Just
+what was in your mind?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only the obvious suggestion that if you leave a message
+which provokes an expedition, you must also convey in
+your message the destination of that expedition, and a map
+seems the simplest way of doing it. But on second thoughts
+I question my first conclusion. There must be an explanation
+of the secret as well as a direction of how to profit by
+it, and it would seem to me doubtful that such an
+explanation could be covered by a map.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sounds all right, that,” Price admitted. “Have you any
+idea what the secret might be? Sounds like treasure or
+salvage or something of that kind.”</p>
+
+<p>“I scarcely think salvage,” French answered. “The <i>L’Escaut</i>
+is not a salvage boat, and a boat not specially
+fitted for the purpose would be of little use. But I thought
+of treasure all right. This Schulz might have robbed his
+ships—there would always be money aboard, and even
+during the war many women traveled with jewelry. The
+man might easily have made a cache of valuables
+somewhere round the coast.”</p>
+
+<p>“Easily,” Cheyne intervened, “or he might have learned
+of some valuable deposit in some out of the way cove
+round the coast, like those chaps in that clinking tale of
+Maurice Drake’s, <i>WO₂</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>“As at Terneuzen?” said French. “I read that book—one
+of the best I ever came across. It’s a possibility, of
+course.”</p>
+
+<p>The talk here became somewhat rambling, Price not
+having read <i>WO₂</i> and wanting to know what it was about,
+but French soon reverted to his photograph. He reminded
+his hearers that they were all interested in its elucidation.
+Miss Merrill’s safety, his own professional credit, Cheyne’s
+peace of mind, and Price’s fortune, all were at stake.</p>
+
+<p>“We have,” he went on, “evolved the idea that perhaps
+this tracing may be a map of England. On further thought
+that suggestion does not seem promising, but as we have
+no other let us work on it. Assume it is a map of England,
+and let us see if it leads us anywhere.” There were
+murmurs of assent from his hearers, and he continued: “Now
+it seems to me the first thing to do is to try if we can fit
+these circles and lines into the map of England. Is there
+anything corresponding to them in English geography?”</p>
+
+<p>No one being able to answer this query, French went on:</p>
+
+<p>“I think we must distinguish between the letter circles
+on the one hand and those of the numbers and lines on
+the other. The position of the former was not altered in
+the faked copy; that of the latter was. From this may we
+not assume that the message lies in the numbers and lines
+only? Possibly the letters were added as a blind, as we have
+already assumed the words ‘expects every man to do his
+duty’ were added as a blind to ‘England.’ Suppose at all
+events that we eliminate the letter circles and concentrate
+on the others for our first effort?”</p>
+
+<p>“That sounds all right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good. Then let us go a step further. Have you noticed
+the distribution of the numbers, letters and lines? The
+numbers are bunched, roughly speaking, towards the
+center, the letters round the edge, and the irregular lines
+between the two. Does this central mass give us anything?”</p>
+
+<p>“I get you,” Price replied. He had risen and begun to
+pace the room, but now he returned to the table and stood
+looking down at the photograph. “You know, as a matter of
+fact,” he went on slowly, “if, as you say, you take that
+central part which contains numbers only, the shape of the
+thing is not so very unlike England after all. Suppose the
+numbers represent land and the letters sea. Then this
+patch of letters in the top left-hand corner might be the
+Irish Sea, and this larger patch to the right the North Sea.
+And look, the letter circles form a band across the bottom.
+What price that for the English Channel?”</p>
+
+<p>French crossed the room, and taking a small atlas from
+a shelf, opened it at the map of England and laid it down
+beside the photograph. With a rising excitement all three
+compared them. Then Cheyne burst out irritably:</p>
+
+<p>“Confound the thing! It’s like it and it’s not like it.
+Let’s draw a line round those number circles and see if it
+makes anything like the shape.” He seized the photograph
+and took out a pencil.</p>
+
+<p>But just as in the scientific and industrial worlds
+discoveries and inventions seldom come singly, so among
+these three men the begetting of ideas begot more ideas.
+Scarcely had Cheyne spoken when French made a little
+gesture of comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>“I believe I have it at last,” he said quietly but with
+ill-concealed eagerness in his tones. “Those irregular lines
+in certain of the circles are broken bits of the coast line.
+See here, those two between 8 and U are surely the Wash,
+and that below H is Flamborough Head. Let’s see if we
+can locate correspondingly shaped outlines on the atlas, and
+fill in between those on the photograph with pencil.”</p>
+
+<p>A few seconds’ examination only were needed. Opposite,
+but slightly above the projection which French suggested
+as Flamborough Head was an angled line between GU
+and 31 which all three simultaneously pronounced St.
+Bee’s Head. Short double lines on each side of 24 showed
+two parts of the estuary of the Severn, and projections along
+the bottom near X and 27 were evidently St. Alban’s Head
+and Selsey Bill.</p>
+
+<p>That they were on the right track there could now no
+longer be any doubt, and they set themselves with renewed
+energy to the problem still remaining—the meaning of the
+circles and the numbers they contained.</p>
+
+<p>“We can’t locate the blessed things this way,” French
+pointed out. “We’ll have to rule squares on the atlas to
+correspond. Then we can pencil in the coast line accurately,
+and see just where the circles lie.”</p>
+
+<p>For a time measuring and the drawing of lines were the
+order of the day. And then at last the positions of the
+circles were located. They were all drawn round towns.</p>
+
+<p>“Towns!” Price exclaimed. “Guess we’re getting on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Towns!” Cheyne echoed in his turn. “Then you must
+have been right, Inspector, about those letters being merely
+a blind.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think so,” French admitted. “Look at it in this way. If
+only the towns and coast were marked, the shape of England
+would show too clearly. But adding those letter circles
+disguises the thing—prevents the shape becoming apparent.
+Now, I may be wrong, but I am beginning to question very
+much if this map has anything to do with indicating a
+position—I mean directly. I am beginning to think it is
+merely a cipher. Let us test this at all events. Let us write
+down the names of the towns in the order of the numbers
+and see if that gives us anything.”</p>
+
+<p>He took a sheet of paper, while Price found No. 1 on the
+photograph and Cheyne identified its position with that of
+a town on the atlas map.</p>
+
+<p>“No. 1,” said Cheyne, “is Salisbury.”</p>
+
+<p>French wrote down: “1, Salisbury.”</p>
+
+<p>“No. 2,” went on Cheyne, “is Immingham.”</p>
+
+<p>“2, Immingham,” wrote French, as he remarked,
+“Salisbury—Immingham: S—I. That goes all right so far.”</p>
+
+<p>The next three towns were Liverpool, Uttoxeter, and
+Reading, and though none of the men could see where <span
+class="sc">silur</span> was leading, it was at least pronounceable.</p>
+
+<p>But when the next three letters were added French gave
+a mighty shout of victory. No. 6 was Ipswich, No. 7
+Andover, and No. 8 Nottingham. <span class="sc">ian</span> added
+to <span class="sc">silur</span> made Silurian.</p>
+
+<p>“<em>Silurian!</em>” French cried, striking the table a mighty
+blow with his clenched fist. “<em>Silurian!</em> That begins to show
+a light!”</p>
+
+<p>The others stared.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you recognize the name?” went on French. “The <i>Silurian</i>
+was a big Anchor liner, and she was torpedoed on
+her way to the States with two and a half millions in gold
+bars aboard!”</p>
+
+<p>The others held their breath and their eyes grew round.</p>
+
+<p>“Any of it recovered?”</p>
+
+<p>“None: it was in mid-Atlantic.”</p>
+
+<p>“But,” stammered Cheyne at last, “I don’t follow—”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t follow myself,” French returned briskly, “but
+when the cipher which leads to a maritime expedition
+begins with a wreck with two and a half millions aboard,
+well then, I say it is suggestive. Come along, let’s read the
+rest of the thing. We’ll know more then.”</p>
+
+<p>With breathless eagerness the other towns were looked
+up, and at last French’s list read as follows:</p>
+
+<table class="display">
+  <tr><td class="n">1.</td><td>Salisbury</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">2.</td><td>Immingham</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">3.</td><td>Liverpool</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">4.</td><td>Uttoxeter</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">5.</td><td>Reading</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">6.</td><td>Ipswich</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">7.</td><td>Andover</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">8.</td><td>Nottingham</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">9.</td><td>Oxford</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">10.</td><td>Northampton</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">11.</td><td>Evesham</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">12.</td><td>Doncaster</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">13.</td><td>Exeter</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">14.</td><td>Gloucester</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">15.</td><td>Ripon</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">16.</td><td>Ely</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">17.</td><td>Eastbourne</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">18.</td><td>Wigan</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">19.</td><td>Exmouth</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">20.</td><td>Swansea</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">21.</td><td>Tonbridge</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">22.</td><td>Nuneaton</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">23.</td><td>Ilfracombe</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">24.</td><td>Newport</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">25.</td><td>Eaglescliff</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">26.</td><td>Taunton</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">27.</td><td>Eastleigh</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">28.</td><td>Ebbw Vale</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">29.</td><td>Northallerton</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">30.</td><td>Folkestone</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">31.</td><td>Appleby</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">32.</td><td>Tamworth</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">33.</td><td>Huntingdon</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">34.</td><td>Oldham</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">35.</td><td>Middlesborough</td></tr>
+  <tr><td class="n">36.</td><td>Southend</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>Taking the initials in order read:
+Silurian­one­degree­west­nineteen­fathoms, or dividing it into its obvious
+words—“<i>Silurian</i> one degree west nineteen fathoms.”</p>
+
+<p>The three men stared at one another.</p>
+
+<p>“Nineteen fathoms!” Price gasped at last. “But if she’s
+in nineteen fathoms that gold will be salvable!”</p>
+
+<p>French nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“And I guess Dangle and Company have gone to salve
+it. They wouldn’t want a salvage boat for gold. They’d get
+it with a diver’s outfit.”</p>
+
+<p>“But,” Cheyne went on in a puzzled tone, “I’ve not got
+this straight yet. If she’s in nineteen fathoms, why has she
+not been salved by the Admiralty? Look at the <i>Laurentic</i>.
+She was put down off the Swilly in Ireland, and they
+salved her gold. Five million pounds’ worth. Salved
+practically every penny, and in twenty fathoms too.”</p>
+
+<p>Price was considering another problem.</p>
+
+<p>“One degree west,” he murmured. “What under heaven
+does that mean? One degree west of what? Surely not the
+meridian of Greenwich. If so, what is the latitude: there’s
+no mention of it?”</p>
+
+<p>French could not answer either of the questions, and he
+did not try. Instead he picked up his telephone receiver
+and made a call.</p>
+
+<p>“Hallo! Is that Lloyd’s? Put me through to the Record
+Department, please . . . Is Mr. Sam Pullar there? Tell him
+Inspector French of Scotland Yard wants to speak to him . . .
+Hallo, Sam! . . . Yes . . . Haven’t seen you for ages . . .
+Look here, Sam, I want you to do me a favor. It’s
+rather urgent, and I’d be grateful if you could look after it
+just now. . . . Yes, I’ll hold on. I want to know anything
+you can tell me about the sinking of the <i>Silurian</i>. You
+remember, she had two and a half millions on her in gold,
+and the U-boats got her somewhere between this country
+and the States, I think in ’17 . . . What’s that? . . . Yes,
+all that and anything else you can tell me.” He took the
+receiver from his ear. “Friend of mine in Lloyd’s,” he
+explained. “We ought to get some light from his reply.”</p>
+
+<p>Silence reigned for a couple of minutes, then French
+spoke again. “Let me repeat that,” he said, seizing a pad
+and scribbling furiously. “Latitude 41 degrees 36 minutes
+north, longitude 28 degrees 53 minutes west. Right. How
+was that known? . . . But there was no direct information? . . .
+Was the gold insured? . . . Well, it’s an involved
+business, I could hardly tell you over the phone. I’ll explain
+it first time we meet . . . Thank you, Sam. Much obliged.”</p>
+
+<p>He rang off and then made a departmental call.</p>
+
+<p>“Put me through to Inspector Barnes . . . That you,
+Barnes? I’m on to something a bit in your line. Could you
+come down here for half an hour?”</p>
+
+<p>“Barnes is our authority on things nautical,” he told the
+others. “Began life as a sailor and has studied all branches
+of sea lore. We always give him shipping cases. We’ll wait
+till he comes and then I’ll tell you what I learned from
+Lloyd’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it a strange thing,” Cheyne remarked, “that
+Schulz should have chosen England for his map and
+English for his cipher. Wouldn’t the natural thing have
+been for him to have chosen Germany and German? He
+could have headed it, for instance, ‘Deutschland über
+Alles,’ and used the initials of German towns for his
+phrase.”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought of that,” French returned, “but we have to
+remember he prepared the cipher to mislead Germans, not
+English. In that case I think he was right to use English.
+It made the thing more difficult.”</p>
+
+<p>He had scarcely finished speaking when the door opened,
+and a tall, alert-looking young man entered the room.
+French introduced him as Inspector Barnes and pointed
+to a chair.</p>
+
+<p>“Seat yourself, Barnes, and listen to my tale. These
+gentlemen are concerned with a curious story,” and he gave
+a brief résumé of the strange events which had led up to
+the existing situation. “Now,” he went on, “when we found
+it was connected with the <i>Silurian</i> I rang up Sam Pullar
+at Lloyd’s, and this is what he told me. The <i>Silurian</i> sailed
+from this country on the 16th of February, 1917. She was
+bound for New York, and she had two and a half millions
+on her in bullion as well as a fair number of passengers.
+She was a big boat—an Anchor liner of some 15,000 tons.
+You remember about her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I should think so,” Barnes returned, as he lit a
+cigarette. “Why, I was on that job—getting her away, I
+mean. All kinds of precautions were taken. A tale was
+started that she would load up the gold at Plymouth and
+would sail—I forget the exact date now, but it was three
+days after she did sail. It was my job to see that the
+German spies about Plymouth got hold of this tale, and
+we had evidence that they did get it, and moreover sent it
+through to Germany, and that the U-boats were instructed
+accordingly. As a matter of fact the <i>Silurian</i> came from
+Brest, where she had landed army stores from South
+America, and the bullion went out in a tender from
+Folkestone, and was transferred at night in the Channel
+in the middle of a ring of destroyers. While preparations
+were being made at Plymouth for her arrival she was away
+hundreds of miles towards the States.”</p>
+
+<p>“But they got her all the same.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh yes, they got her, but not all the same. She escaped
+the boats that were looking out for her. It was a chance
+boat that found her, somewhere, if I remember rightly,
+near the Azores.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right,” French answered. “Instead of going
+directly west, so Sam Pullar told me, she went south to
+avoid those submarines you spoke of and which were
+supposed to be operating off the Land’s End. Her course was
+followed by wireless, down to near the Spanish coast, and
+then across fairly due west. She was last seen by a Cape
+boat some thirty miles west of Finisterre. Then a message
+was received from her when she was some 250 miles north
+of the Azores, that a U-boat had come along, and had
+ordered her to stop. The message gave her position and
+went on to say that a boat was coming aboard from the
+submarine. Then it stopped, and that was the last thing
+that was heard of her. Not a body or a boat or a bit of
+wreckage was ever picked up, and it was clear that every
+one on board was lost. Then after a time confirmation was
+obtained. Our intelligence people in Germany intercepted
+a report from the commander of the submarine who sank
+her, giving details. She had been sunk in latitude 41° 36′
+north, longitude 28° 53′ west, which confirmed the figures
+sent out in her last wireless message. Four boats had got
+away, but the commander had fired on them and had sunk
+them one after another, so that not a single member of the
+passengers or crew should survive.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dirty savages,” Barnes commented. “But people in open
+boats wouldn’t have had much chance there anyway,
+particularly in February. If they had been able to keep afloat
+at all, they would probably have missed the Azores, and
+it’s very unlikely they would have made the Spanish or
+Portuguese coast—it would have been too far.”</p>
+
+<p>French pushed forward his atlas.</p>
+
+<p>“Just whereabouts did she sink?” he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“About there.” Barnes indicated a point north of the
+Azores. “But this atlas is too small to see it. Send someone
+to my room for my large atlas. You’ll see better on that.”</p>
+
+<p>French having telephoned his instructions Barnes went
+on.</p>
+
+<p>“She’s evidently lying on what is called the Dolphin
+Rise. The Dolphin Rise is part of a great ridge which
+passes down the middle of the Atlantic from near Iceland
+to well down towards the Antarctic Ocean. This ridge is
+covered by an average of some 1,700 fathoms of water,
+with vastly greater depths on either side. It is volcanic and
+is covered by great submarine mountain chains. Where the
+tops of these mountains protrude above the surface we get,
+of course, islands, and the Azores are such a group.”</p>
+
+<p>A constable at that moment entered with the large atlas,
+and Barnes continued:</p>
+
+<p>“Now we’ll see in a moment.” He ran his finger down
+the index of maps, then turned the pages. “Here we are.
+Here is a map of the North Atlantic Ocean: here are the
+Azores and hereabouts is your point, and—By Jove!” the
+young man looked actually excited, “here is what your
+cipher means all right!”</p>
+
+<p>The other three crowded round in almost breathless
+excitement. Barnes pointed with a pencil slightly to the
+east of a white spot about a quarter of an inch in diameter
+which bore the figure 18.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here,” he went on, “there’s about the point she
+is supposed to have sunk. You see it is colored light blue,
+which the reference tells us means over 1,000 fathoms. But
+measure one degree to the west—it is about fifty miles at
+that latitude—and it brings us into the middle of that
+white patch marked 18. That white patch is another
+mountain chain, just not high enough to become an island,
+and the 18 means that the peaks come within 18 fathoms
+of the surface. So that your cipher message is probably
+quite all right, and your Antwerp party are more than
+likely working away at the gold at the present time.”</p>
+
+<p>French swore comprehensively.</p>
+
+<p>“You must be right,” he agreed. “One can see now what
+that blackguard of a U-boat commander did. He evidently
+put some men aboard the <i>Silurian</i> to dismantle their
+wireless, then made them sail on parallel to his own course
+until he had by the use of his lead maneuvered them over
+the highest peak, and then put them down. The whole
+thing must have been quite deliberate. He returned to his
+own government a false statement of her position, which he
+knew would correspond with the last message she sent out,
+intending it to be believed that she was lost in over 1,000
+fathoms. But he sank her where he could himself afterwards
+recover her bullion, or sell his secret to the highest
+bidder. The people on the <i>Silurian</i> would know all about
+that two or three hours’ steam west, so they must be got
+rid of. Hence his destroying the boats one after another.
+No one must be left alive to give the thing away. To his
+own crew he no doubt told some tale to account for it, but
+he would be safe enough there, as no one except himself
+would know the actual facts. Dirty savage indeed!”</p>
+
+<p>With this speech of French’s a light seemed to Cheyne
+suddenly to shine out over all that strange adventure in
+which for so many weeks he had been involved. With it
+each puzzling fact seemed to become comprehensible and
+to drop into its natural place in the story as the pieces of
+a jigsaw puzzle eventually make a coherent whole. He
+pictured the thing from the beginning, the submarine coming
+up with the ship in deep water, but comparatively close
+to a shallow place where its treasure could be salved: the
+desire of the U-boat commander, Schulz, to save the gold,
+quite possibly in the first instance for the benefit of his
+nation. Then the temptation to keep what he had done
+secret so as, if possible later, to get the stuff for himself.
+His fall before this temptation, with its contingent false
+return to his government as to the position of the wreck.
+Then, Cheyne saw, the problem of passing on the secret in
+the event of his own death would arise, with the evolution
+and construction of the cipher as an attempted solution.
+As a result of Schulz’s fatal wound the cipher was handed
+to Price, and Schulz was doubtless about to explain how
+it should be read, when he was interrupted by the nurse.
+Before another chance offered he was dead.</p>
+
+<p>Given the fact that Dangle overheard the dying man’s
+story, and that Dangle’s character was what it was, Cheyne
+now saw that the remainder of his adventure could
+scarcely have happened otherwise than as it had. To
+obtain the cipher was Dangle’s obvious course, and there
+was no reason to doubt his own statement of how he set
+about it. A search among Price’s papers showed the latter
+had sent the document to Cheyne, and from Cheyne
+Dangle had evidently decided to obtain it. But nothing
+could be done till after the war, nor, presumably, without
+financial and other help. In this lay, doubtless, the reason
+for the application to Blessington and Sime, and these two
+being roped in, the unscrupulous trio set themselves to
+work. Susan Dangle assisted by obtaining a post as servant
+at Warren Lodge, and thus gained detailed information
+which enabled the others to lay their plans. And so in a
+quite orderly sequence event had followed event, until now
+it looked as if the climax had been reached.</p>
+
+<p>Like a flash these thoughts passed through Cheyne’s
+mind, and like a flash he saw what depended on them.
+Now they knew where Joan Merrill had been taken. If she
+was still alive—and he simply could not bring himself to
+admit any other possibility—she was on that boat of
+Merkel’s some two hundred and fifty miles north of the
+Azores! From that something surely followed. He turned
+to French and spoke in a voice which was hoarse from
+anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>“What about an expedition to the place?”</p>
+
+<p>French nodded decisively.</p>
+
+<p>“We must arrange one without delay,” he said. “I think
+the Admiralty is our hope. That gold wasn’t insured—it
+was a government business. I’ll go and tell the chief about
+it now, and get him to see the proper authorities.
+Meanwhile,” he looked, for French, quite sharply at the others,
+“not a word of this must be breathed.”</p>
+
+<p>Intense interest was excited in the higher circles of the
+Admiralty by the news which reached them from the
+Yard. Great personages bestirred themselves to issue orders,
+with the result that with enormously more promptitude
+than the man in the street can bring himself to associate
+with a Government Department, a fast boat, well equipped
+with divers and gear, was got ready for sea. French put in
+a word for both Cheyne and Price, and when, some eight
+hours after their reading of the cipher, the boat put out
+into the Thames from Chatham Dockyard, it carried in
+addition to its regular crew not only Inspector French
+himself, but also his two protégés.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter" id="ch20">
+
+<h2>Chapter XX. <br> The Goal of the “L’Escaut”</h2>
+
+<p>Inspector French had gone to bed in the tiny but
+comfortable stateroom which had been put at his disposal by
+the officers of the Admiralty boat while that redoubtable
+vessel was slipping easily and on an even keel through the
+calm waters of the Straits of Dover. He awoke next morning
+to find her plunging and rolling and staggering through
+what, in comparison with his previous experiences of the
+sea, appeared to be a frightful storm. To his surprise,
+however, he did not feel any bad effects from the motion, and
+presently he arose, and having with extreme care
+performed the ticklish operation of shaving, dressed and
+climbed with the aid of railings and handles to the
+companionway, and so to the deck.</p>
+
+<p>The sight which met his eyes on emerging made him
+hold his breath, as he clung to the rail at the companion
+door. It was a wonderful morning, clear and bright and
+fresh and invigorating. The sun shone down from a cloudless
+sky on to a dark sapphire sea of incredible purity,
+flecked over with foaming patches of dazzling white. As
+far as the eye could reach in every direction out to the
+hard sharp line of the horizon, great waves rolled
+relentlessly onward, wavelets dancing and churning and
+foaming on their slow-moving flanks. The wind caught French
+and, as if it were a solid, held him pinned against the
+deckhouse. He stood watching the bluff bows of the boat
+rise in the air, then crash back into the sea, throwing out
+a smother of water and foam some of which would seep
+over the fo’c’sle, and after swirling through the forward
+deck hamper, disappear through the scuppers amidships.</p>
+
+<p>For some moments he watched, then moving round the
+deckhouse, he glanced up and saw Cheyne and Price
+beckoning to him from the bridge, where they had joined the
+officer of the watch.</p>
+
+<p>“Some morning this, Inspector,” Price cried, as he joined
+them in the lee of the weather canvas. “This will blow the
+London cobwebs out of our minds.”</p>
+
+<p>He was evidently keenly enjoying himself, and even
+Cheyne’s anxious face showed appreciation of his
+surroundings. And soon French himself, having realized that
+they were not necessarily going to the bottom in a
+hurricane, but merely running down Channel in a fresh
+southwesterly breeze, began to feel the thrill of the sea, and to
+believe that the end of his quest was going to develop into
+a novel and delightful holiday trip.</p>
+
+<p>The same weather held all that day and the next, but
+on the third the wind fell, and the sea gradually calmed
+down to a slow, easy swell. The sun grew hotter, and
+basking in it in the lee of the deckhouse became a delight.
+Little was said about the object of the expedition. French
+and Price were content to enjoy the present, and Cheyne
+managed to keep his anxieties to himself. The ship’s officers
+were a jolly crowd, immensely excited by their quest, and
+conducting themselves as the kindly hosts of welcome
+guests.</p>
+
+<p>On the fourth day it grew still warmer, indeed out of
+the breeze made by the ship’s motion it was unpleasantly
+hot. French liked to get away forward, where it was cooler,
+and leaned by the hour over the bows, watching the sharp
+stem cut through the water and roll back in its frothing
+wave on either side. Dolphins were now to be seen
+swimming in the clear water, and two hung at the bows, one
+on each side, apparently motionless for long periods, until
+suddenly they would dart ahead, spiral round one another
+and then return to their places.</p>
+
+<p>That fourth evening the captain joined his passengers as
+the trio were smoking on deck.</p>
+
+<p>“If we carry on like this,” he remarked, “we should
+reach the position about four <span class="sc">a.m.</span> But those beggars
+may be taking a risk and not showing a light, so I propose to
+slow down from now on, in order not to arrive till
+daylight. Come on deck about six. If they’re here we should
+raise them between then and seven.”</p>
+
+<p>French, waking early next morning, could not control
+his excitement and remain in his berth until the allotted
+time. He rose at five, and went on deck with the somewhat
+shamefaced feeling that he was acting as a small boy, who
+on Christmas morning must needs get up on waking to
+investigate the possibilities of stockings. But he need not
+have feared ridicule from his companions. Both Cheyne
+and Price were already on the bridge, and the skipper
+stood with his telescope glued to his eye as he searched
+the horizon ahead. All three were evidently thrilled by the
+approaching finale, and a slight incoherence was
+discernible in their somewhat scrappy conversation.</p>
+
+<p>The morning was calm and very clear. Once again the
+sky was cloudless, and the soft southwesterly wind barely
+ruffled the surface of the long flat swells. It was a pleasure
+to be alive, and it seemed impossible to associate crime
+and violence with the expedition. But beneath their smiles
+all concerned felt it might easily develop into a grim
+enough business. And that side of it became more apparent
+when at the captain’s order the covers of the six-pounders
+mounted fore and aft were removed, and the weapons
+were prepared for action by their crews.</p>
+
+<p>The hands of French’s watch had just reached the
+quarter hour after six, when Captain Amery, who had
+once again been sweeping the horizon with his telescope,
+said quietly: “There she is.” He handed the glass to
+French. “See there, about three points on the starboard
+bow.”</p>
+
+<p>French, with some difficulty steadying the tube, saw
+very faint and far off what looked like the upper part of
+a steamer’s deck, with a funnel, and two masts like
+threads of the finest gossamer. “She’s still hull down,” the
+captain explained. “You’ll see her better in a few minutes.
+We should be up with her in three-quarters of an hour.”</p>
+
+<p>In order to leave them free later on, it was decided to
+have breakfast at once, and by the time the hasty meal had
+been disposed of the stranger was clearly visible to the
+naked eye. She lay heading westward, as though anchored
+in the swing of the tide, and her fires appeared to be either
+out or banked, as no smoke was visible at her funnel. The
+glass revealed a flag at her forepeak, but she was still too
+far off to make out its coloring.</p>
+
+<p>Now that the dramatic climax was approaching, the
+minds of the actors in the play became charged with a
+very real anxiety. Captain Amery, under almost any
+circumstances, would have to deal with a very ticklish
+situation. He had to get the gold, if it was salvable, and the
+fact that they were not in British waters would be a
+complication if the Belgian had already recovered it. French
+had to ascertain if his quarry were on board, and if so, see
+that they did not escape him—also a difficult job outside
+the three-mile limit. For Price a fortune hung in the
+balance—not of course all the gold that might be found, but
+the proportion allowed him by law; while for Cheyne there
+remained something a thousand times more important
+than the capture of a criminal or the acquisition of a
+fortune—for Cheyne the question of Joan Merrill’s life
+was at stake. Their several anxieties were reflected on the
+faces of the men, as they stood in silence, watching the
+rapidly growing vessel.</p>
+
+<p>Presently an exclamation came from Captain Amery.</p>
+
+<p>“By Jove!” he said, “this is a rum business. I can see that
+flag now, and it’s our red ensign. What’s a Belgian boat
+doing with a British flag? And what’s more, it’s jack down—a
+flag of distress. What do you think of that?” He looked
+at the others with a puzzled expression, then went on: “I
+suppose they’re not armed? You don’t know, Inspector,
+do you? If they were armed it would be a likely enough ruse
+to get us close by, so as to make sure of hitting us in a
+vital place.”</p>
+
+<p>French shook his head. He had heard nothing about
+arms, though for all he knew to the contrary the <i>L’Escaut</i>
+might carry a gun.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see one,” the captain continued, “but then if
+they have one they’d keep it hidden. But I don’t like there
+being no signs of life aboard her. There’s no smoke
+anywhere, either from her boilers or her galley. There’s no one
+on the bridge, and I’ve not seen a movement on deck. It
+doesn’t look well: in fact it looks as if they were lying low
+and waiting for us.”</p>
+
+<p>They were now within a mile of the stranger, and her
+details were clear even to the naked eye.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s the <i>L’Escaut</i> anyway,” Captain Amery went on.
+“I can see the name on her bows. But I confess I don’t
+like that flag and that silence. I think I’ll see if I can
+wake her up.”</p>
+
+<p>He put his hand on the foghorn halliard and blew a
+number of resounding blasts. For a few seconds nothing
+happened, then suddenly two figures appeared at the
+deckhouse door, and after a moment’s pause, rushed up on
+the bridge and began waving furiously. As they passed up
+the bridge ladder they came from behind the shelter of a
+boat and their silhouettes became visible against the sky.
+They were both women!</p>
+
+<p>A strangled cry burst from Cheyne as he snatched the
+captain’s telescope and gazed at them, then with a shout
+of “It’s she! It’s she!” he leaped to the end of the bridge
+and began waving his hat frantically.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment two other figures appeared on the
+fo’c’sle and, apparently moving to the vessel’s side, stood
+watching the newcomers. Amery rang his engines down
+to half speed and, slightly porting his helm, headed for
+some distance astern of the other. Then starboarding, he
+swung round, and bringing up parallel to her and some
+couple of hundred yards away, he dropped anchor.</p>
+
+<p>Without loss of a moment a boat was lowered, and
+French, Cheyne, Price, the first officer, and a half dozen
+men, all armed with service revolvers, tumbled in. Giving
+way lustily, they pulled for the Belgian.</p>
+
+<p>It was by this time possible to distinguish the features of
+the women, and French was not surprised to learn they
+were Joan Merrill and Susan Dangle. Evidently they
+recognized Cheyne, who kept waving furiously as if he
+found the movement necessary to relieve his overwrought
+feelings. The two figures forward were those of men, and
+these stood watching the boat, though without exhibiting
+any of the transports of delight of their fellow shipmates
+on the bridge.</p>
+
+<p>As they drew closer Joan made signs to them to go
+round to the other side of the ship, and dropping round
+her stern they saw a ladder rigged. In a few seconds they
+were alongside, and Cheyne, leaping out before the
+others, rushed up the steps and reached the deck.</p>
+
+<p>If there had been any doubts as to the real relations
+between himself and Joan, these were set at rest at that
+moment. Instinctively he opened his arms, and Joan,
+swept off her feet by her emotion, threw herself into them
+and clung to him, while tears of joy and relief ran down
+her cheeks. As far as Cheyne was concerned, Susan
+Dangle, the figures on the fo’c’sle, French, and the men behind
+him might as well not have existed. He crushed Joan
+violently to him, covering her face and hair with burning
+kisses, as he murmured brokenly of his love and of his
+thankfulness for her safety.</p>
+
+<p>French, anxious to learn the state of affairs and seeing
+nothing was to be got from Joan, turned expectantly to
+Susan Dangle. What could these unexpected developments
+mean? Was Susan, the enemy, now a friend?
+Where were the others? Were the ship’s company friends
+or foes? Could he ask her questions which might
+incriminate her without giving her a formal warning?</p>
+
+<p>But his curiosity would brook no delay.</p>
+
+<p>“I am Inspector French of Scotland Yard,” he
+announced, while Price and the first officer stood round
+expectantly. “You are Miss Susan Dangle. Where are the
+other members of this expedition?”</p>
+
+<p>The girl wrung her hands, and he noticed how terribly
+pale and drawn was her face and what horror shone in
+her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” she cried, with a gesture as if to shut out the sight
+of some hideous dream. “Oh, it’s been awful! I can’t
+speak of it. They’re dead! My brother James, Charles
+Sime, Mr. Merkel, most of the crew, dead—all dead! Mr.
+Blessington wounded—probably dying! They got fighting
+over the gold!” She began suddenly to laugh, a terrible
+high cackling laugh, that made her hearers shiver, and
+attracted the attention even of Joan and Cheyne.</p>
+
+<p>French stepped quickly forward and seized her arm.</p>
+
+<p>“There now, Miss Dangle,” he said kindly but firmly.
+“Stop that and pull yourself together. Your terrible
+experiences are over now and you’re in the hands of friends. But
+you mustn’t give way like this. Make an effort, and you’ll
+be better directly.” He led her to a hatchway and made her
+sit down, while he continued soothing her as one would a
+fractious child.</p>
+
+<p>But so great was the agitation of both girls that it was
+quite a considerable time before the tragic tale of
+the <i>L’Escaut’s</i> expedition became fully unfolded. And when at
+last it was told it proved still but one more illustration of
+the old truth that the qualities of greed and envy and
+selfishness have that seed of decay within themselves which
+leads their unhappy victims to overreach themselves, and
+instead of gaining what they seek, to lose their all. Shorn
+of incoherent phrases and irrelevant details the story was
+this.</p>
+
+<p>On the 24th of May the <i>L’Escaut</i> had left Antwerp
+with twenty-eight souls aboard. Aft there were Joan,
+Susan, Blessington, Sime, Dangle, and Merkel, with the
+captain, first officer, and engineer—nine persons, while
+forward were three divers, six assistants, a cook, a steward,
+four seamen, and four engine-room staff, or nineteen
+altogether. Once clear of the Scheldt Joan’s treatment had
+changed. Her food was no longer drugged, and when in a
+few days she got over the effects of the doses she had
+received, she found her jailers polite and friendly and
+anxious to minimize the inconvenience and anxiety she
+was suffering. They told her they did not wish her evil,
+and were taking her with them simply to prevent information
+as to themselves or their affairs leaking out through
+her. This, of course, she did not believe, since she did not
+possess sufficient information about them to enable her to
+interfere with their plans. But later their real motive
+dawned on her. Gradually she realized that Blessington
+had fallen in love with her, and though he was
+circumspect enough, her distrust of him was such that she felt
+sick with horror and dread when she thought of him.
+Nothing, however, had occurred to which she could take
+exception, and had it not been for her fears as to her own fate
+and her anxieties as to Cheyne’s, the voyage would have
+been pleasant enough.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>L’Escaut</i> was a fast boat, and four days had
+brought them to the spot referred to in the cipher. After
+three days’ search they found the wreck, and all three
+divers had at once gone down. A week was spent in
+making an examination of the vessel, at the end of which time
+they had located the gold. It was in her stern, low down
+and not far from her port side. The divers recommended
+blowing her plates off at this spot, and ten days more
+sufficed for this. Through the hole thus made the divers
+were able to draw in tackle lowered from the <i>L’Escaut</i>,
+and the ingots of gold were slung to cradles and drawn
+up with really wonderful ease and speed. They had,
+moreover, been favored with a peculiarly fine stretch of
+weather, work having to be suspended on only eight days
+of the thirty-seven they were there.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the wreck in the first instance the captain
+had mustered his crew aft and had informed them—what
+he could no longer keep secret—that they were out for
+gold, and that if they found it in the quantities they
+hoped, every man on board would receive at the end of
+the trip a gift of £1,000 in addition to his pay. The men
+at first seemed more than satisfied, but as ingot after ingot
+was recovered the generosity of the offer shrank in their
+estimation. Four days before the appearance of French’s
+party the divers had reported that another day would
+complete the work, and then appeared the first hint that all
+was not well. On that last evening before the completion
+of the diving the men came forward in a body and asked
+to see the captain. They explained that they had been
+reckoning up the value of the gold, and they weren’t
+having £1,000 apiece: they wanted an even divide all round.
+The captain argued with them civilly enough at first—told
+them that they couldn’t get the metal ashore and
+turned into money in secret, that the port officers or
+coastguards wherever it was unloaded would be bound to learn
+what they were doing and that then the government would
+claim an enormous percentage of the whole, so that the
+£1,000 per man was an extremely liberal gift. The men
+declared that they would look after the unloading, and
+that they were going to have what they wanted. Hot
+words passed, and then the captain drew a revolver and
+said that he was captain there, and that what he said
+would go. Susan was watching the scene from the quarter-deck
+behind, but she could not be quite sure of what followed.
+One of the crew pressed forward and the captain
+raised his revolver. She did not think he meant to fire, but
+another of the men either genuinely or purposely
+misunderstood his action. He raised his hand, a shot rang out,
+and the captain fell dead. The mutineers were evidently
+terribly upset by a murder which they had apparently
+never intended, and had Blessington and Sime acted
+intelligently, the trouble might have gone no further. But
+at that moment these two worthies, who must have been
+in the chart-house all the time, began firing through the
+windows at the men. A regular pitched battle ensued, in
+which Sime and five of the crew were hit, three of the
+latter being killed. It was then war to the knife between
+those who berthed forward and those who berthed aft. All
+that night sporadic shots rang out at intervals, but at
+daybreak on the following day matters came to a head. The
+crew with considerable generalship made a feint on the
+fo’c’sle with some of their number while the remainder
+swarmed aft below decks. The defenders, taken in the rear,
+were shot down, and the mutineers were masters of the
+ship.</p>
+
+<p>All that next day Joan and Susan, terror-stricken,
+clung to each other in the latter’s cabin. The men were
+reasonably civil: told them they might get themselves
+food, and let them alone. But that night a further terrible
+quarrel burst out between, as they learned afterwards,
+those who wished to murder the girls and go off with the
+treasure and those who feared murder more than the loss
+of the gold. Once again there were the reports of shots
+and the groans of wounded men. The fusillade went on at
+intervals all night, until next morning one of the divers—a
+superior man with whom the girls had often talked—had
+come in with his head covered with blood, and asked
+the girls to bandage it. Susan had some slight surgical
+knowledge, and did what she could for him. Then the
+man told them that of the entire ship’s company only
+themselves and seven others were alive, and that of these
+seven four were so badly wounded that they would
+probably not recover. Among these was Blessington. Sime and
+James Dangle were dead.</p>
+
+<p>The slightly injured men threw the dead overboard and
+cleaned up the traces of the fighting, while the girls
+ministered to the seriously wounded. Of course, in the three
+days up till the arrival of the avengers—who had by a
+strange trick of fate become the rescuers—one man had
+died. Of the eight-and-twenty who sailed from Antwerp
+there were therefore left only nine: the two girls and four
+slightly and three seriously wounded men. None of those
+able to move understood either engineering or seamanship,
+so that they had luckily decided to remain at anchor
+in the hope of some ship picking up their flag of distress.</p>
+
+<p>“There is just one thing I should like to understand,”
+said Cheyne to Joan, when later on that day a prize crew
+had been put aboard the <i>L’Escaut</i> and steam was being
+raised for the return to England, “and that is what
+happened to you on the night that we burgled Earlswood.
+You got back to your rooms, then left again with Sime
+and Blessington?”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s not much to tell about that,” Joan answered,
+smiling happily up into her lover’s eyes. “I was, as you
+know, standing like a watchman before the door of
+Earlswood, when I saw Susan and her brother coming up. I
+rang and knocked and kept them talking as long as
+possible. Then when they opened the door I slipped away, but
+I heard your footsteps and realized that you had got out by
+the back way. I heard you run off down the lane with
+Dangle after you, then remembering your arrangement
+about throwing away the tracing, I climbed over the wall,
+picked it up and went back to my rooms. The first thing
+I did was to photograph it, then I hid it in my color box.
+I had scarcely done so when Sime called. He said you had
+met with an accident—been caught between two motorcars
+and knocked down by one of them—and that you
+were seriously injured. He said you were conscious and had
+given him my address and were calling for me. I went
+down to find Blessington driving a car, though I didn’t
+know then it was Blessington. As soon as we started Sime
+held a chloroformed cloth over my mouth, and I don’t
+remember much more till we were on the <i>L’Escaut</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how did Sime find your rooms?”</p>
+
+<p>“Through Susan. Susan told me all about it afterwards.
+She went out after James and saw me climbing over the
+wall with the tracing. She followed me to my rooms and
+immediately telephoned to Sime. When Sime called she
+was with him, and while I changed my coat Sime let her
+into the studio and she hid behind an easel until we were
+gone. She searched till she found the tracing and then
+simply walked out. The gang had intended to go to
+Antwerp the following week in any case, but this business
+upset their plans and they decided to start immediately.
+Dangle went on and arranged for the <i>L’Escaut</i> to leave
+some days earlier. The rest of us put up at Ghent till she
+was ready to sail.” But little further remains to be told.
+The few bars of gold still left on the <i>Silurian</i> were soon
+raised and the two ships set sail, reaching Chatham some
+five days later. All the bullion theoretically belonged to the
+Crown, but under the special circumstances a generous
+division was made whereby twenty-five per cent was
+returned to the finders. As Price refused to accept the
+whole amount an amicable agreement was come to,
+whereby Cheyne, Joan, and Price each received almost
+one-third, or £200,000 apiece. Of the balance of over
+£20,000, £10,000 was given to Susan Dangle by Joan’s
+imperative directions. She said that Susan was not a bad
+girl and had turned up trumps during the trouble on
+the <i>L’Escaut</i>. £1,000 went to Inspector French—also Joan’s
+gift, and the remainder was divided among the officers
+and men of the Admiralty salvage boat.</p>
+
+<p>A few days after landing Maxwell Cheyne and Joan
+Merrill had occasion to pay a short visit to the church of
+St. Margaret’s in the Fields, after which Cheyne whirled
+his wife away to Devonshire, so that she might make the
+acquaintance of his family and see the country where
+began that strange series of events which in the
+beginning of the story I alluded to as <span
+class="sc">The Cheyne Mystery</span>.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="section" id="transcriber">
+
+<h2>Transcriber’s Note</h2>
+
+<p>This transcription follows the text of the Penguin Books edition
+published in 1978. The following alterations have been made to correct
+what are believed to be unambiguous printer’s errors.</p>
+
+<ul>
+  <li>Five erroneous quotation marks have been repaired.</li>
+  <li>“desparate” has been changed to “desperate” (Ch. II).</li>
+  <li>“wondered it he” has been changed to “wondered if he” (Ch. II).</li>
+  <li>“Chayne” has been changed to “Cheyne” (Chs. IX and X).</li>
+  <li>“Walting Street” has been changed to “Watling Street” (Ch. X).</li>
+  <li>“noncommital” has been changed to “noncommittal” (Ch. XIV).</li>
+  <li>“pessmist” has been changed to “pessimist” (Ch. XV).</li>
+  <li>“Sargeant” has been changed to “Sergeant” (Ch. XVI).</li>
+  <li>“similiar” has been changed to “similar” (Ch. XVII).</li>
+</ul>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHEYNE MYSTERY ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>