chimneys的秘密

基斯，阿加莎

阿加莎

烟囱的秘密

致

由七位表情沮丧的女性和三位汗流浃背的男性组成的城堡精选之旅团，带着极大的兴趣观看。显然，他们的凯德先生遇到了一位老朋友。他们都非常钦佩凯德先生，他那高挑瘦削的身材，他那晒得黝黑的面孔，以及他以轻松愉快的方式解决争端和哄骗他们保持好心情的态度。他这位朋友现在——显然是个长相相当奇特的人。和凯德先生差不多高，但身材粗壮，远没有他那么英俊。那种你在书中读到的人，可能是个酒吧老板。很有趣，毕竟，这就是人们出国的原因——去看一看那些你在书中读到的一切奇特事物。到目前为止，他们对布伦太沃已经相当厌倦了。太阳热得难以忍受，酒店不舒服，似乎没有特别的地方可以去，直到要去马托波斯的时候。非常幸运的是，凯德先生建议了明信片。这里有丰富的明信片供应。

安东尼·凯德和他的朋友稍微分开了一些。

“见鬼，你这是在和这一群女人做什么？”麦克格雷问道，“组建一个后宫？”

“不是和这么一小群人，”安东尼笑着回答，“你好好看过她们了吗？”

“我看过。以为你可能视力下降了。”

“我的视力和以前一样好。不，这是城堡精选之旅。我是当地的城堡，我的意思。”

“你到底为什么要接受这样一份工作？”

“为了钱，一个令人遗憾的必需。我可以向你保证，这不适合我的性格。”

吉米笑着。

“你从来不是个喜欢稳定工作的人，对吧？”

安东尼对这个诽谤不予理会。

“然而，我预计很快就会有事情发生，”他满怀希望地评论道，“通常都是这样。”

吉米咯咯地笑了。

“如果有什么麻烦在酝酿，我知道安东尼·凯德迟早会卷入其中，”他说，“你绝对有冲突的天赋——还有猫的九条命。我们什么时候能一起聊聊？”

安东尼叹了口气。

“我得带这些咯咯叫的母鸡去看罗兹的坟墓。”

“这才是正事儿，”吉米赞同地说，“她们会满身泥泞地回来，一路上叫嚷着要上床休息，让淤青得到恢复。然后你和我就可以找个地方坐下来，交换一下新闻。”

“对。再见，吉米。”

安东尼回到了他的羊群中。泰勒小姐，这个团体中最年轻、最轻浮的成员，立刻向他发起了攻击。

“哦，凯德先生，那是你的老朋友吗？”

“是这样的，泰勒小姐。我那无瑕的青春时代的一个朋友。”

泰勒小姐咯咯地笑了。

“我觉得他长得很有趣。”

“我会告诉他你这么说的。”

“哦，凯德先生，你怎么这么顽皮！真是的！他刚才叫你什么名字？”

“绅士乔？”

“是的。你的名字是乔吗？”

“我想你知道我的名字是安东尼，泰勒小姐。”

“哦，你就继续这样吧！”泰勒小姐带着一丝挑逗地说。

到这时，安东尼已经很好地掌握了他的职责。除了安排必要的旅行事宜外，还包括安抚那些被冒犯的脾气暴躁的老先生，确保那些老妇人有机会购买明信片，以及与所有四十岁以下的女性调情。由于这些女士对他最天真的言辞都愿意赋予温柔的含义，这最后一项任务对他来说变得容易多了。

泰勒小姐再次发起攻击。

“那么，他为什么叫你乔呢？”

“哦，只是因为那不是我的名字。”

“为什么是绅士乔？”

“同样的原因。”

“哦，凯德先生，”泰勒小姐非常不安地抗议，“我敢肯定你不应该这么说。昨晚爸爸还夸你很有绅士风度。”

“泰勒小姐，你父亲真是太好了。”

“我们都认为你是个十足的绅士。”

“我受宠若惊。”

“不是的，我真的这么认为。”

安东尼含糊地说：“善良的心比王冠还要珍贵，”他对这句话的含义毫无头绪，急切地希望午餐时间快点到来。

“这首诗真是太美了，我总是这么想。你懂很多诗吗，凯德先生？”

“在紧急情况下，我可以背诵《男孩站在燃烧的甲板上》。‘男孩站在燃烧的甲板上，除了他，其他人已经逃离。’这就是我所知道的，但如果你愿意，我可以用动作来表现那部分。‘男孩站在燃烧的甲板上’——呼呼呼呼——（火焰，你懂的）‘除了他，其他人已经逃离’——对于那部分，我就像狗一样来回跑。”

泰勒小姐尖叫着笑了起来。

“哦，看看凯德先生！他是不是很滑稽？”

“现在是早茶时间了，”安东尼敏捷地说，“跟我来。隔壁街有一家很棒的咖啡馆。”

“我想，”卡迪科特夫人用她那低沉的声音说，“这次旅行的费用包括在旅游费用中吗？”

“早茶，卡迪科特夫人，”安东尼以专业的态度说，“是额外的。”

“真是丢脸。”

“生活充满了考验，不是吗？”安东尼愉快地说。卡迪科特夫人的眼睛闪烁着，她带着一种突然发现地雷的语气说：

“我早就怀疑了，所以今天早上早餐时，我把一些茶倒进了壶里！我可以用酒精灯加热。来吧，父亲。”

卡迪科特夫妇得意洋洋地离开了，女士的背因为成功的预见而显得洋洋得意。

“哦，天哪，”安东尼咕哝着，“要组成一个世界，真是需要很多有趣的人。”

他将其他游客带到了咖啡馆的方向。泰勒小姐一直跟在他身边，继续她的盘问。

“你有多久没见到你的朋友了？”

“刚超过七年。”

“是在非洲你认识他的吗？”

“是的，但不是这个地方。我第一次见到吉米·麦格拉斯时，他正被捆绑起来，准备下锅。你知道，内地的一些部落是食人的。我们到那里正好及时。”

“发生了什么事？”

“一场非常不错的骚动。我们收拾了一些乞丐，剩下的都逃跑了。”

“哦，凯德先生，你一定过着多么冒险的生活啊！”

“非常平静，我向你保证。”

但很明显，这位女士并不相信他。

* * * * *

那天晚上大约十点钟，安东尼·凯德走进一间小屋，吉米·麦格拉斯正在忙着摆弄各种瓶子。

“詹姆斯，把它调浓一点，”他恳求道，“我告诉你，我需要它。”

“我想你确实需要，孩子。我不会为了任何事接受你那份工作的。”

“再给我来一杯，我就立刻跳出去。”

麦格拉斯倒出自己的饮料，熟练地一饮而尽，然后又调了一杯。然后他慢慢地说：

“你是认真的吗，老兄？”

“认真什么？”

“如果你能找到另一份工作，你会放弃你现在的工作吗？”

“为什么？你不是说你有份工作等着你去吗？为什么你自己不抓呢？”

“我已经抓到了，但我并不太喜欢它，这就是为什么我想把它传给你的。”

安东尼开始怀疑。

“怎么了？他们没有请你去主日学校教书，是吗？”

“你以为有人会选我去主日学校教书吗？”

“如果他们很了解你，当然不会。”

“这是一份非常好的工作——没有任何问题。”

“在南美洲吗？幸运地？我正想看看南美洲。不久，那个小共和国将爆发一场非常整洁的小革命。”

麦格拉斯笑了笑。

“你总是热衷于革命——任何事情只要能卷入一场真正的混战。”

“我觉得我的才能在那里可能会得到赏识。告诉你，吉米，我在革命中可以非常有用——无论哪一方。这比老老实实地谋生要好得多。”

“我想我以前也从你这里听到过这种说法，儿子。不，工作不在南美洲——在英国。”

“英国？英雄在许多年后回到他的祖国。他们不可能在七年之后还催你付账，对吧，吉米？”

“我不这么认为。好吧，每个人都有自己的爱好。我的爱好是争吵，你的爱好是黄金。”

“我会告诉你整个故事。我想你知道关于赫尔佐斯洛伐克的一切？”

“I’ll tell you. I’m after gold, Anthony—far up in the interior.”

Anthony whistled and looked at him.

“You’ve always been after gold, Jimmy, ever since I knew you. It’s your weak spot—your own particular little hobby. You’ve followed up more wild-cat trails than anyone I know.”

“And in the end I’ll strike it. You’ll see.”

“Well, every one his own hobby. Mine’s rows, yours is gold.”

“I’ll tell you the whole story. I suppose you know all about Herzoslovakia? ”

安东尼锐利地抬起头。

“赫佐斯洛伐克？”他的声音里带着一丝好奇。

“是的。你了解它吗？”

在安东尼回答之前，有一段相当明显的沉默。然后他缓缓地说：

“我只知道每个人都知道的事情。它是巴尔干国家之一，对吧？主要河流，未知。主要山脉，同样未知，但数量相当多。首都是埃卡雷斯特。人口主要是强盗。爱好，刺杀国王和发动革命。最后一位国王，尼古拉斯四世。大约七年前被暗杀。从那时起，它就变成了共和国。总的来说，这是一个非常可能的地方。你之前可能提到过赫佐斯洛伐克与此有关。”

“这并不直接相关。”

安东尼带着更多的悲伤而不是愤怒看着他。

“你应该为此做点什么，詹姆斯，”他说，“参加一个函授课程，或者类似的。如果你在那些古老的东方日子里讲这样一个故事，你可能会被倒吊起来，遭受鞭打或其他不愉快的事情。”

吉米对这些严厉的批评毫不动摇。

“你听说过斯托尔普蒂奇伯爵吗？”

“现在你才说到点子上，”安东尼说，“许多从未听说过赫佐斯洛伐克的人，一提到斯托尔普蒂奇伯爵就会精神一振。巴尔干的老大。现代最伟大的政治家。最大的未受绞刑的恶棍。观点完全取决于你读的报纸。但可以肯定的是，斯托尔普蒂奇伯爵将会被记住，即使我们变成了尘土和灰烬，詹姆斯。过去二十年来近东的每一场动作和反动作，都有斯托尔普蒂奇伯爵的影子。他曾是独裁者、爱国者和政治家——没有人确切知道他究竟是什么，除了他是个完美的阴谋之王。那么，关于他呢？”

“他是赫佐斯洛伐克的首相——这就是我首先提到它的原因。”

“你缺乏比例感，吉米。与斯托尔普蒂奇相比，赫佐斯洛伐克根本无关紧要。它只是为他提供了一个出生地和公共事务中的职位。但我想他死了？”

“是的，他已经死了。大约两个月前在巴黎去世。我告诉你的是几年前的事情。”

“问题是，”安东尼说，“你究竟在告诉我什么？”

吉米接受了责备，急忙继续说。

“是这样的。我那时在巴黎——确切地说，是四年前。一天晚上，我在一个相当偏僻的地方散步，看到六个法国粗汉在殴打一位看起来很体面的老先生。我讨厌一边倒的场面，所以我立刻插手，开始殴打那些粗汉。我想他们以前从未真正被打得那么重。他们像雪一样融化了！”

“干得好，詹姆斯，”安东尼轻声说，“我想看看那场打斗。”

“哦，那没什么大不了的，”吉米谦虚地说，“但那位老先生非常感激。他肯定喝了几杯，不过他够清醒，从我这儿要到了我的名字和地址，第二天就来道谢了。他还非常得体地做了这件事。那时候我才知道救的是斯提尔普蒂奇伯爵。他在布洛涅森林附近有一栋房子。”

安东尼点了点头。

“是的，斯提尔普蒂奇在尼古拉斯国王被暗杀后搬到了巴黎居住。他们后来想让他回来当总统，但他拒绝了。他坚守自己的君主主义原则，尽管据说他在巴尔干半岛的幕后交易中也有所涉猎。已故的斯提尔普蒂奇伯爵是个非常深沉的人。”

“尼古拉斯四世是那个对妻子品味古怪的人，不是吗？”吉米突然问道。

“是的，”安东尼说，“这对他也造成了伤害，可怜的家伙。她是个在巴黎的小巷艺人，连个侧室联姻都不配。但尼古拉斯对她情有独钟，而她一心想成为王后。听起来荒谬，但他们 somehow 管做到了。她被称作波波夫斯卡伯爵夫人，或者类似的名字，他们假装她血管里流淌着罗马诺夫的血。尼古拉斯在埃卡雷斯特大教堂与她结婚，由几位不情愿的大主教主持仪式，她被加冕为瓦拉加王后。尼古拉斯安抚了他的部长们，我想他认为那才是最重要的——但他忘了考虑民众。他们在赫佐斯洛伐克非常贵族化和反动。他们希望他们的国王和王后是正宗的。有人私下议论，有人不满，然后是通常的无情镇压，以及最终起义，攻占了宫殿，杀死了国王和王后，宣布成立共和国。自从那时起，那里一直是个共和国——但我听说那里仍然相当热闹。他们暗杀了几个总统，只是为了保持他们的手艺。但让我们回到正题。你当时已经成为了斯提尔普蒂奇伯爵的救命恩人。”

“是的。嗯，那件事就这样结束了。我回到了非洲，直到大约两周前，我收到了一个奇形怪状的包裹，不知道它跟了我多久了。我在报纸上看到斯提尔普蒂奇伯爵最近在巴黎去世了。好吧，这个包裹里是他的回忆录——或者说是回忆录，或者随便你怎么叫这些东西。里面有一张纸条，上面写着，如果我能在10月13日或之前将手稿送到伦敦一家出版社，他们会指示支付我一千英镑。”

“一千英镑？你说的是一千英镑，吉米？”

“我确实如此，儿子。但愿上帝保佑这并非骗局。正如俗话所说，不要把希望寄托在王子或政治家身上。好了，就是这样。由于手稿一直跟着我转，我耽误不起时间。尽管如此，还是挺遗憾的。我刚刚安排好了这次去内地的旅行，我一心想去。这样的好机会不会再来。”

“你真是无可救药，吉米。手头有一千英镑，比神话中的黄金还要值钱。”

“那要是这一切都是骗局呢？不管怎样，我已经订好了去开普敦的船票，正在路上——而你却吹牛！”

安东尼站起身，点了一支烟。

“我开始明白你的意思了，詹姆斯。你按计划去淘金，我帮你收集那一千英镑。我能从中得到多少？”

“你说说看，四分之一怎么样？”

“按照俗话，那是一百五十英镑，免税。”

“就这样定了。”

“成交，我同意了。我加入，一起去城堡精选之旅。他们喝了一杯，表情庄重。

一位陷入困境的女士

“就这样吧，”安东尼喝完杯中的酒，把它放回桌上说，“你要乘哪艘船？”

“格兰瑟城堡号。”

“我想船票是以你的名字订的，所以我最好以詹姆斯·麦格拉思的身份旅行。我们早就超越了护照那一套，不是吗？”

“两种方式都无所谓。你和我完全不同，但我们可能在那张该死的表格上会有相同的描述。身高六英尺，头发棕色，眼睛蓝色，鼻子普通，下巴普通——”

“少来这套‘普通’的把戏。让我告诉你，城堡精选我，完全是因为我讨人喜欢的外表和良好的举止。”

吉米笑了笑。

“我今天早上就注意到了你的举止。”

“你胡说。”

安东尼站起来，在房间里来回踱步。他的眉头微微皱起，过了好几分钟才开口。

“吉米，”他最后说，“斯泰尔普奇在巴黎去世了。把手稿从巴黎通过非洲送到伦敦有什么意义？”

吉米无助地摇了摇头。

“我不知道。”

“为什么不把它打包成一个小包裹，通过邮局寄出去呢？”

“听起来确实更合理，我同意。”

“当然，”安东尼继续说，“我知道国王和王后以及政府官员由于礼仪的约束，不能以简单直接的方式行事。因此才有国王的信使等等。在中世纪，你给一个人一个印章戒指，就像打开芝麻门的咒语一样。‘国王的戒指！请通过，阁下！’通常都是对方偷了戒指。我总是 wonder 为什么某个聪明的年轻人从来没有想到过复制戒指——制作十几枚，每枚卖一百杜卡特。他们似乎在中世纪没有多少创新精神。”

吉米打了个哈欠。

“Sounds a damn sight more sensible, I agree.”

“Of course, ” continued Anthony, “I know that Kings and Queens and Government officials are prevented by etiquette from doing anything in a simple, straightforward fashion. Hence King’s Messengers and all that. In medieval days you gave a fellow a signet ring as a sort of Open Sesame. ‘The King’s Ring! Pass, my Lord! ’ And usually it was the other fellow who had stolen it. I always wonder why some bright lad never hit on the expedient of copying the ring—making a dozen or so, and selling them at a hundred ducats apiece. They seem to have had no initiative in the Middle Ages.”

Jimmy yawned.

我对中世纪的评论似乎并没有让您感到愉快。让我们回到斯提尔普蒂奇伯爵身上。从法国到英格兰，途经非洲，即使是外交人士也会觉得有些复杂。如果他只是想确保您能拿到一千英镑，他完全可以在遗嘱中留给您。感谢上帝，您和我都没有那么骄傲，以至于不接受遗产！斯提尔普蒂奇一定是个和善的人。”

“您会这么想，不是吗？”

安东尼皱起眉头，继续着他的踱步。

“您读过那东西了吗？”他突然问道。

“读什么？”

“那份手稿。”

“天哪，没有。您以为我为什么要读那种东西？”

安东尼微笑了。

“我只是好奇而已。您知道，由回忆录引起的麻烦可不少。那些不谨慎的揭露，那一类的事情。那些一辈子都像牡蛎一样封闭的人，在他们自己舒适地死去之后，似乎特别享受引起麻烦。这给他们带来一种恶意的快乐。吉米，斯提尔普蒂奇伯爵是个什么样的人？您见过他，也和他谈过话，而且您对人的本性有着相当好的判断力。您能想象他是个报复心强的老家伙吗？”

吉米摇了摇头。

“很难说。您知道，第一天晚上他明显很冷淡，第二天他就变成了一个举止优雅的老头，用最美好的赞美让我不知所措，以至于我不知道该往哪里看。”

“而且他在喝醉的时候也没有说出什么有趣的事情？”

吉米回想起这些，皱起了眉头。

“他说他知道钻石王冠在哪里，”他犹豫地提出了。

“哦，好吧，”安东尼说，“我们都知道那件事。他们把它放在塔里，不是吗？在厚厚的玻璃和铁栅栏后面，还有许多穿着华丽服装的绅士围在那里，以防你偷走任何东西。”

“没错，”吉米同意道。

“斯提尔普蒂奇还说过类似的话吗？比如他知道华莱士收藏品所在的城市？”

吉米摇了摇头。

“嗯！”安东尼说。

他点了一支烟，再次开始在房间里来回踱步。

“我想您从不看报纸，对吧，异教徒？”他过了一会儿说。

“不太常看，”麦格拉思简单地回答。“它们通常不涉及我感兴趣的事情。”

“感谢上帝我更文明一些。最近经常提到赫罗索维亚。暗示着保皇派的复辟。”

“尼古拉斯四世没有留下儿子，”吉米说。“但我一分钟也不认为奥博洛维奇王朝已经灭绝。可能有一群年轻的家伙在四处游荡，堂兄、表兄，还有远亲。”

“所以找到国王不会有任何困难？”

“绝不，我敢说，”吉米回答道，“你知道，我不奇怪他们会对共和制度感到厌倦。像那样充满活力、阳刚之气的人，在习惯了国王之后，对总统的职责肯定觉得非常乏味。说到国王，这让我想起了那天晚上老斯泰尔普蒂奇透露的另一件事。他说他知道那些在追捕他的人。他说他们是维克多国王的人。”

“什么？”安东尼突然转过身来。

麦克拉思脸上露出了一丝缓慢的笑容。

“你不是很激动吗，乔先生？”他慢悠悠地说。

“别傻了，吉米。你刚才说了一些相当重要的事情。”

他走到窗边，站在那里向外望去。

“这位维克多国王究竟是谁？”吉米问道，“另一个巴尔干君主？”

“不，”安东尼缓缓地说，“他不是那种类型的国王。”

“那他是哪种类型的？”

沉默了一会儿，然后安东尼开口了。

“他是一个骗子，吉米。世界上最臭名昭著的珠宝大盗。一个大胆、无畏的人，任何事都无法让他退缩。维克多国王是他在巴黎的昵称。巴黎是他团伙的大本营。他们在那里抓住了他，并以一项较小的罪名将他监禁了七年。他们无法证明对他更重要的事情。他很快就会出狱——或者可能已经出狱了。”

“你认为斯泰尔普蒂奇伯爵与此事有关？是他们追捕他的原因？出于报复？”

“我不知道，”安东尼说，“表面上看起来似乎不太可能。据我所知，维克多国王从未偷过赫尔佐斯洛伐克的王冠珠宝。但整件事似乎很有暗示性，不是吗？斯泰尔普蒂奇的死，回忆录，以及报纸上的谣言——虽然模糊但很有趣。还有进一步的谣言说他们在赫尔佐斯洛伐亚发现了石油。詹姆斯，我有一种感觉，人们正准备对那个无关紧要的小国产生兴趣。”

“是什么样的人？”

“城市办公室的金融家。”

“你用这些话到底想说什么？”

“只是想使一个简单的工作变得困难。”

“你不可能假装在出版商办公室递交一份简单的手稿会有任何困难吧？”

“不，”安东尼遗憾地说，“我想那不会有什么困难。但是，詹姆斯，你能告诉我，我打算用那250英镑去哪里吗？”

“南美洲？”

“不，我的孩子，赫尔佐斯洛伐亚。我想我会与共和国合作。很可能我会最终成为总统。”

“为什么不宣布自己是主要奥博洛维奇，一边当国王一边行事？”

“不，吉米。国王是终身的。总统只担任大约四年的工作。我会很乐意在四年的时间里治理像赫尔佐斯洛伐亚这样的王国。”

“我认为国王的平均任期甚至更短，”吉米插嘴道。

“这可能会对我构成一个严重的诱惑，去侵占你那份一千英镑的份额。你知道，当你回来，被那些金块压得喘不过气的时候，你是不想要的。我会帮你投资在捷克斯洛伐克的石油股票上。詹姆斯，你知道，我越想这件事，就越觉得你的主意好。如果没提到捷克斯洛伐克，我绝不会想到它。我将在伦敦度过一天，收集战利品，然后乘坐巴尔干快车离开！”

“你不会像那样那么快就离开。我之前没提过，但我还有另一个小任务给你。”

安东尼坐进一把椅子，严厉地盯着他。

“我一直都知道你藏着什么秘密。这就是陷阱所在。”

“一点也不。这只是为了帮助一位女士而必须做的事。”

“詹姆斯，我最后一次告诉你，我拒绝卷入你的那些糟糕的爱情纠葛。”

“这不是爱情纠葛。我从未见过那个女人。我会告诉你整个故事。”

“如果我要再听你那些长篇大论的故事，我就得再喝一杯了。”

他的主人欣然满足了这一要求，然后开始讲述。

“那是在我在乌干达的时候。那里有一个西班牙人，我救了他的命——”

“如果我是你，吉米，我应该写一本短书，题目叫《我救过的人》。这是我今晚第二次听到这件事了。”

“哦，这次我实际上并没有做什么。只是把那个西班牙人从河里拉出来。像所有西班牙人一样，他不会游泳。”

“等等，这个故事和那件事有什么关系吗？”

“一点关系也没有，奇怪的是，我现在想起来，那个人是个捷克斯洛伐克人。我们总是叫他荷兰佩德罗。”

安东尼冷漠地点了点头。

“对于西班牙人来说，任何名字都足够了，”他评论道，“詹姆斯，继续说吧。”

“好吧，那个家伙对这件事挺感激的。像狗一样围着我转。大约六个月后，他死于发烧。我在他身边。他临终前，当我快断气的时候，他示意我，低声说了些兴奋的胡言乱语，关于一个秘密——我想他说的是一个金矿。他把一个油布包裹塞到我手里，那一直是贴着他皮肤穿的。当时我并没有太在意。直到一周后我才打开包裹。然后我好奇了，必须承认。我不认为荷兰佩德罗会有那样的见识，看到金矿就能认出来——但运气是无法预料的——”

“一想到金子，你的心就像往常一样怦怦直跳，”安东尼打断了他的话。

“我一生中从未如此厌恶过。金矿，的确！我敢打赌，对于那个肮脏的狗来说，那可能是一个金矿。你知道那是什么吗？一个女人的信——是的，一个英国女人的信。那个流氓一直在勒索她——他竟然厚颜无耻地把他的脏把戏传给了我。”

“我喜欢看到你那正义的激情，詹姆斯，但让我指出，达戈斯就是达戈斯。他本意是好的。你救了他的命，他把一个赚钱的来源留给了你——你的高尚的英国理念并未进入他的视野。”

“嗯，我到底该拿这些东西怎么办呢？一开始我以为烧掉它们。然后我突然想到，那位可怜的女士可能不知道它们会被销毁，她总是生活在地震和恐惧之中，生怕那个达戈有一天会再次出现。”

“你比我想象的要更有想象力，吉米，”安东尼边说边点了一支烟，“我承认这个案子比最初显现的困难得多。你打算怎么处理它们呢？通过邮寄给她？”

“像所有女人一样，她不会在大多数信件上写日期和地址。有一封信上有一个地址——只有一个词。烟囱。”

安东尼在吹灭火柴的时候停了下来，因为火柴烧到了他的手指，他迅速地抖动手腕，火柴掉在了地上。

“烟囱？”他说，“这相当不寻常。”

“你知道这是什么吗？”

“它是英国的一座宏伟的住宅，我亲爱的詹姆斯。是国王和王后周末去的地方，外交官们聚集和交流的地方。”

“那正是我为什么这么高兴你去英国而不是我去的原因之一。你知道这些事情，”吉米简单地说道，“像我这样的加拿大偏远地区的人会犯各种各样的错误。但像你这样去过伊顿和哈罗的人——”

“只有其中一个，”安东尼谦虚地说。

“将能够完成它。你为什么不说把信件寄给她呢？嗯，我觉得这很危险。根据我所了解的，她似乎有一个嫉妒的丈夫。如果他不小心打开了信，那位可怜的女士会怎样呢？或者她可能已经死了——这些信看起来像是很久以前写的。根据我的判断，唯一的方法就是有人把它们带到英国，亲手交给她。”

安东尼扔掉了他的烟，走到朋友身边，深情地拍了拍他的背。

“你真是个真正的骑士，吉米，”他说，“加拿大的偏远地区应该为你感到骄傲。我做不到你这么漂亮。”

“那你接下这个任务了？”

“当然。”

麦格拉思站起身，走到一个抽屉前，拿出了一捆信件，把它们扔在桌子上。

“给你，你最好看看这些。”

“有必要吗？总的来说，我宁愿不看。”

“嗯，根据你说的这个烟囱地方，她可能只是在那里住过。我们最好看看这些信，看看有没有什么线索能告诉我们她真正的住处。”

“我想你是对的。”

他们仔细地查看了信件，但没有找到他们希望找到的东西。安东尼深思熟虑地收起了信件。

“可怜的小东西，”他评论道，“她吓得要命。”

吉米点了点头。

“你认为你能找到她吗？”他焦虑地问道。

“我不会离开英格兰，直到找到她。你真的很关心这位陌生的女士，詹姆斯？”

吉米若有所思地用手指抚过签名。

“这名字挺美的，”他抱歉地说，“维吉尼亚·雷维尔。”

高层焦虑

“一点没错，我亲爱的朋友，一点没错，”凯特汉姆勋爵说。

他已经三次用了同样的话，每次都是希望结束这次访谈，让他得以逃脱。他非常不喜欢被迫站在他所属的伦敦私人俱乐部的台阶上，聆听乔治·洛马克斯爵士那没完没了的雄辩。

克莱门特·爱德华·艾利斯·阿斯莱尔·布伦特，凯特汉姆第九代男爵，是一位身材矮小的绅士，衣着简朴，与人们对男爵的普遍印象大相径庭。他有着褪色的蓝眼睛，一个瘦削忧郁的鼻子，以及一种模糊但礼貌的举止。

凯特汉姆勋爵一生中的主要不幸是四年前继承了哥哥，第八代男爵的爵位。上一任凯特汉姆男爵是一位杰出的人物，全英格兰家喻户晓。他曾一度担任外交大臣，在帝国的决策中一直占据重要地位，他的庄园奇门以其热情好客而闻名。在他的妻子，珀斯公爵的女儿的辅佐下，奇门庄园曾举办过许多非正式的周末聚会，历史在此被创造和改变，几乎没有哪个知名人士——实际上在欧洲——没有在某个时候在那里住过。

这一切都很好。凯特汉姆第九代男爵对哥哥的回忆充满了极大的尊重和崇敬。亨利在这方面做得非常出色。凯特汉姆勋爵反对的是，人们认为他必须追随哥哥的脚步，而奇门庄园与其说是一处私人乡村别墅，不如说是一处国家财产。政治——除非是政客——是凯特汉姆勋爵最不喜欢的事情。因此，他对乔治·洛马克斯爵士那持续的雄辩感到不耐烦。乔治·洛马克斯是一位健壮的人，有些发福，脸色红润，眼睛突出，而且极度自负。

“你明白我的意思，凯特汉姆吗？我们现在根本承担不起任何丑闻。现在的形势非常微妙。”

“总是这样，”凯特汉姆勋爵带着一丝讽刺的语气说。

“我亲爱的朋友，我有权知道！”

“哦，当然，当然，”凯特汉姆勋爵又回到了他之前的防御策略。

“在这个赫佐斯洛伐克事务上稍有闪失，我们就会完蛋。将石油特许权授予英国公司至关重要。你明白这一点吗？”

“当然，当然。”

“迈克尔·奥博洛维奇王子这周末就会到达，整个事情可以在奇门庄园以打猎聚会的名义顺利进行。”

“我这周打算出国，”凯特汉姆勋爵说。

胡说，我亲爱的凯特汉姆，十月初谁会出国。

“我的医生似乎认为我的情况相当糟糕，”凯特汉姆勋爵说着，目光渴望地望着缓缓驶过的出租车。

然而，他完全无法逃之夭夭，因为洛马克斯有一个令人不快的习惯，那就是在与他人严肃交谈时紧紧抓住对方——无疑这是长期经验的结果。在这种情况下，他紧紧抓住了凯特汉姆勋爵外套的翻领。

“我亲爱的先生，我以帝国的方式向你提出。在即将到来的国家危机时刻——”

凯特汉姆勋爵不安地扭动着身体。他突然觉得，他宁愿参加无数的家庭聚会，也不愿听乔治·洛马克斯引用他自己的演讲。他深知洛马克斯能够连续讲二十分钟不停歇。

“好吧，”他急忙说，“我会去的。我想你会安排一切。”

“我亲爱的朋友，没有什么需要安排的。奇姆纳斯，除了其历史关联外，地理位置也十分理想。我将住在离那里不到七英里的修道院。当然，我作为家庭聚会的一员是不合适的。”

“当然不，”凯特汉姆勋爵同意了，他对为什么不行感到一头雾水，而且也不感兴趣去了解。

“不过，或许你不介意让比尔·伊弗斯利参加。他跑腿会很有用。”

“非常乐意，”凯特汉姆勋爵带着一丝更加活跃的表情说，“比尔是个相当不错的射手，邦德也很喜欢他。”

“当然，射击并不是真正重要的。这不过是个借口。”

凯特汉姆勋爵再次显得沮丧。

“那么，就这样吧。王子，他的随从，比尔·伊弗斯利，赫尔曼·艾萨克斯坦——”

“谁？”

“赫尔曼·艾萨克斯坦。我刚才跟你提到的那个辛迪加的代表。”

“那个全英国的辛迪加？”

“是的。为什么？”

“没什么——没什么——我只是好奇，仅此而已。这些人名字真奇怪。”

“那么，当然，还应该有几个局外人——只是为了给这件事一个真正的样子。伊琳娜夫人可以负责这件事——年轻人，不加批判，对政治一无所知。”

“邦德会处理好这件事的，我确信。”

“我现在想起来了。”洛马克斯似乎被一个想法打动了。

“你还记得我刚才提到的那个事情吗？”

“你说了那么多事情。”

“不，不，我是指那个不幸的‘意外’”——他压低声音，神秘地低语——“回忆录——斯托尔普蒂奇伯爵的回忆录。”

“我认为你在那件事上错了，”凯特汉姆勋爵说着，忍不住打了个哈欠，“人们喜欢丑闻。该死的，我自己也读过《回忆录》——而且很喜欢。”

“关键不在于人们是否会阅读它们——他们很快就会读到的——而是在这个关键时刻出版可能会毁掉一切——一切。赫尔佐斯拉维亚的人民希望恢复君主制，并准备将王冠提供给得到我国政府支持和鼓励的迈克尔王子——”

“谁愿意向艾凯·赫尔曼斯坦先生的公司让步，以换取借出大约一百万英镑来让他登上宝座——”

“卡特汉姆，卡特汉姆，”洛马克斯带着痛苦的低语哀求道，“请务必谨慎。最重要的是，谨慎。”

“而且问题在于，”卡特汉姆勋爵带着一丝得意地说，尽管他降低声音以回应对方的请求，“斯泰尔普蒂奇的回忆录可能会打乱一切。奥博洛维奇家族的暴政和不当行为，对吧？议会上有人提出质疑。为什么要用过时的暴政取代目前宽容和民主的政府形式？由吸血的资本家制定政策。打倒政府。这类事情——对吧？”

洛马克斯点了点头。

“而且可能会更糟，”他喘着气说，“假设——只是假设——有人提到了——你知道我指的是什么。”

卡特汉姆勋爵盯着他。

“不，我不知道。什么失踪？”

“你肯定听说过这件事吧？为什么，那是在他们在烟囱时发生的。亨利对此非常沮丧。这几乎毁了她的职业生涯。”

“你让我非常感兴趣，”卡特汉姆勋爵说，“谁或什么失踪了？”

洛马克斯向前倾身，把嘴贴近卡特汉姆勋爵的耳朵。后者急忙抽回。

“看在上帝的分上，别对我吹嘘。”

“你听到我说的了吗？”

“是的，我听到了，”卡特汉姆勋爵不情愿地说，“我记得当时听到过一些关于它的消息。非常奇怪的事情。我想知道是谁干的。它从未被找回？”

“从未。当然，我们必须对此事保密至极。任何关于损失的线索都不能泄露出去。但斯泰尔普蒂奇当时在场。他知道一些事情。不是全部，但有一些。我们曾在土耳其问题上与他有过几次争执。假设他纯粹出于恶意，把这一切都记录下来供世人阅读。想想这个丑闻——以及深远的影响。每个人都会说——为什么会被压制？”

“当然会的，”卡特汉姆勋爵带着明显的愉悦说。

洛马克斯的声音已经升高，他努力控制自己。

“我必须保持冷静，”他低声说，“我必须保持冷静。但我问你，亲爱的朋友。如果他不是有意捣乱，为什么他要通过这种方式把手稿送到伦敦？”

“这确实很奇怪。你确定你的事实？”

“绝对确定。我们——呃——在巴黎有代理人。回忆录在他去世前几周秘密地被带走。”

“是的，看起来好像真的有东西在里面，”卡特汉姆勋爵带着之前同样的愉悦说。

“我们了解到，它们被送给了名叫吉米，或者詹姆斯，麦格拉思的人，一个目前在非洲的加拿大人。”

“真是一件帝国级的事情，不是吗？”卡特汉姆勋爵愉快地说。

“詹姆斯·麦格拉思预计明天——星期四——乘坐‘格兰瑟城堡号’到达。”

“你打算怎么办？”

我们当然会立刻去找他，指出可能严重的后果，并恳请他至少推迟一个月出版《回忆录》，无论如何也要允许我们审慎——嗯——编辑。

“如果他回答说‘不，先生’，或者‘我绝对要先去地狱’，或者类似这样风趣的话？”卡特汉姆勋爵提议道。

“这正是我所担心的，”洛马克斯简单地说，“这就是我突然想到，也许请他到 Chimneys 来也是个不错的主意。他当然会为被邀请见迈克尔王子而感到荣幸，也许更容易对付他。”

“我不会这么做，”卡特汉姆勋爵急忙说，“我从来就不擅长和加拿大人相处——尤其是那些在非洲生活过很长时间的！”

“你可能会发现他是个了不起的人——一个粗犷的钻石，你知道的。”

“不，洛马克斯。我在那里是坚决反对的。得有人去对付他。”

“我想到，”洛马克斯说，“一个女性在这里可能会非常有用。告诉她足够的，但不要太多，你明白。一个女性可以巧妙而得体地处理整个事情——就像把情况摆在他面前，而不让他反感。我并不是赞成女性从政——圣斯蒂芬学院现在完全毁了。但女性在自己的领域可以做奇迹。看看亨利的妻子，她为他做了什么。玛西亚是无与伦比的，独特，一个完美的政治女主人。”

“你是想让我邀请玛西亚参加这个派对，对吧？”卡特汉姆勋爵在提到他那令人敬畏的妯娌时，脸色微微发白地问。

“不，不，你误会了。我是在谈论女性的普遍影响力。不，我建议一个年轻女性，一个有魅力、美丽、聪明的女性？”

“不是邦德吗？如果她有任何东西的话，她是个热情的社会主义者，她会因为这个建议而大笑。”

“我并没有想到伊莲娜夫人。卡特汉姆，你的女儿非常迷人，非常迷人，但还相当是个孩子。我们需要一个有 _savoir faire_、沉着、世界知识的人——啊，当然，正是那个人。我的表妹弗吉尼亚。”

“雷维尔夫人？”卡特汉姆勋爵精神一振。他开始觉得，他可能最终还是会享受这个派对的。“你真是个好主意，洛马克斯。伦敦最迷人的女性。”

“她对捷克斯洛伐克事务也很了解。她的丈夫曾在那里的大使馆工作，你还记得。而且，正如你所说，她是一个非常有个人魅力的女性。”

“一个可爱的人儿，”卡特汉姆勋爵低声说。

“那就这么定了。”

洛马克斯松开了对卡特汉姆勋爵衣领的抓握，后者迅速抓住了这个机会。

“再见，洛马克斯，你会安排一切的，对吧。”

他跳进了一辆出租车。对于一个直立行走的基督徒绅士来说，他可以有多讨厌另一个直立行走的基督徒绅士，卡特汉姆勋爵就多么讨厌乔治·洛马克斯勋爵。他讨厌他那浮肿的红脸，他那沉重的呼吸，以及他那突出的蓝眼睛。他想到即将到来的那一周，叹了口气。真是个麻烦，一个令人厌恶的麻烦。然后他想到了弗吉尼亚·里维尔，心情稍微好了些。

“一个可爱的人，”他自言自语，“一个非常可爱的人。”

介绍一位非常迷人的女士

乔治·洛马克斯立刻回到了白厅。当他走进那间豪华的公寓，处理国家事务时，传来一阵骚动声。

比尔·伊弗斯利先生正在勤奋地整理信件，但靠近窗户的大扶手椅还留有与人接触的余温。

比尔·伊弗斯利是个非常讨人喜欢的年轻人。大概二十五岁，身材高大，动作有些笨拙，一张令人愉悦的丑陋面孔，一口雪白的牙齿，一双真诚的棕色眼睛。

“理查森把那份报告送上来了吗？”

“没有，先生。我该去催他吗？”

“没关系。有电话留言吗？”

“奥斯卡小姐正在处理大部分。艾萨克斯坦先生想知道你明天是否能在萨沃伊餐厅和他共进晚餐。”

“告诉奥斯卡小姐查一下我的预约簿。如果我没有预约，她可以打电话接受邀请。”

“是的，先生。”

“顺便问一下，伊弗斯利，你现在可以帮我打个电话。查一下那本书。里维尔夫人，487号，庞特街。”

“是的，先生。”

比尔抓起电话簿，漫不经心地扫了一眼一列M开头的名字，砰的一声合上书本，走到桌上的电话旁。他手放在电话上，停顿了一下，仿佛突然想起了什么。

“哦，我说，先生，我刚刚想起来。她的线路出了问题。我是说里维尔夫人。我刚才正想给她打电话。”

乔治·洛马克斯皱起了眉头。

“真烦人，”他说，“显然很烦人。”他不确定地敲了敲桌子。

“如果有什么重要的事情，先生，也许我现在可以坐出租车去那里。她现在早上肯定在家。”

乔治·洛马克斯犹豫了一下，考虑着这件事。比尔期待地等待着，准备在得到肯定的答复后立刻出发。

“也许这是最好的办法，”洛马克斯最后说，“好吧，那么，坐出租车去那里，问问里维尔夫人今天下午四点是否在家，因为我非常想就一件重要的事情见她。”

“好的，先生。”

比尔抓起帽子，离开了。

十分钟后，一辆出租车把他送到庞特街487号。他按响了门铃，用力敲了敲门。门被一位严肃的官员打开，比尔轻松地点头，仿佛他们已经认识很久了。

“早上好，奇尔弗斯，里维尔夫人在家吗？”

“我相信，先生，她正要出去。”

“是你吗，比尔？”一个声音从楼梯上喊道，“我认出了那个有力的敲门声。上来和我谈谈。”

比尔抬头看着那张俯瞰着他的笑脸，那张总是倾向于让他——不，不仅仅是让他——陷入喋喋不休的混乱状态的脸。他两步并作一步地跑上楼梯，紧紧地握住弗吉尼亚·里维尔伸出的手。

“嗨，弗吉尼亚！”

“嗨，比尔！”

魅力是一件非常奇特的东西；成百上千的年轻女子，其中一些比弗吉尼亚·里维尔更美丽，可能会用同样的语调说“嗨，比尔”，却不会产生任何效果。但弗吉尼亚说出的这两个简单的词，对比尔产生了最令人陶醉的影响。

弗吉尼亚·里维尔刚好二十七岁。她身材高挑，体态苗条——的确，一首诗可以为她那苗条的身材而作，它比例如此完美。她的头发是真正的青铜色，带有金色的绿色调；她有一个坚定的下巴，一个可爱的鼻子，斜视的蓝眼睛在半闭的眼帘间闪烁着最深的矢车菊色，还有一张美妙而难以形容的嘴，嘴角微微上扬，形成了所谓的“维纳斯之笑”。这是一张极富表现力的脸，她身上有一种令人瞩目的光辉活力，总是挑战人们的注意力。永远都不可能忽视弗吉尼亚·里维尔。

她把比尔拉进了一个小客厅，那里的一切都是淡紫、绿、黄，就像在草地上被惊扰的番红花。

“比尔，亲爱的，”弗吉尼亚说，“外交部是不是在想你？我觉得没有你他们无法工作。”

“我给你带来了科德尔斯的消息。”

比尔就这样不敬地提到了他的上司。

“顺便问一下，弗吉尼亚，如果他问起来，记得你今天的电话是坏的。”

“但不是。”

“我知道。但我那么说了。”

“为什么？请告诉我这个外交部的小把戏。”

比尔给她投去责备的一瞥。

“当然是为了我能来这里看你。”

“哦，亲爱的比尔，我多么迟钝啊！你真是太好了！”

“奇尔斯说你今天要出去。”

“是的——去斯隆街。那里有一个地方有一款非常棒的新髋部带。”

“髋部带？”

“是的，比尔，H.I.P. 髋，B.A.N.D. 带子。一个束缚髋部的带子。你把它紧贴皮肤穿。”

“我为你感到羞愧，弗吉尼亚。你不应该向一个与你无亲无故的年轻人描述你的内衣。这不雅。”

“但是，亲爱的比尔，髋部没什么不雅的。我们都有髋部——尽管我们这些可怜的女人正拼命假装我们没有。这个髋部带是红色的橡胶做的，刚好到膝盖上方，穿上它走路简直不可能。”

“太可怕了！”比尔说，“你为什么要这么做？”

“哦，因为它让人有一种为了自己的轮廓而受苦的高贵感。但别谈我的髋部带了。给我乔治的消息。”

“他想知道你今天下午四点会不会在。”

“我不会去的。我会在兰利。为什么这种正式的拜访？你认为他是不是要向我求婚？”

“我不觉得奇怪。”

“因为，如果是这样的话，你可以告诉他，我更喜欢那些冲动求婚的男人。”

“像我吗？”

“不是的，比尔。你的不是冲动，是习惯。”

“弗吉尼亚，你难道——”

“不，不，不，比尔。我不希望在午餐前就接受。尽量把我当作一个即将步入中年的和蔼可亲的母亲，全心全意为你着想。”

“弗吉尼亚，我真的爱你。”

“我知道，比尔，我知道。我只是喜欢被爱。我这样是不是很邪恶，很可怕？我希望世界上所有的好男人都爱我。”

“我想他们大多数都是，”比尔忧郁地说。

“但我希望乔治不是在爱我。我不认为他会。他对他的事业如此忠诚。他还说了什么？”

“只是说那非常重要。”

“比尔，我开始好奇了。乔治认为重要的事情是如此有限。我想我必须放弃兰利。毕竟，我随时都可以去兰利。告诉乔治，我将在四点钟默默地等待他。”

比尔看了看他的手表。

“似乎在午餐前回去没什么意义。出来吃点东西，弗吉尼亚。”

“我打算去某个地方吃午餐。”

“那没关系。把它当作一天的事，把所有的事情都放下。”

“那会很不错的，”弗吉尼亚微笑着说。

“弗吉尼亚，你真是个宝贝。告诉我，你真的喜欢我，不是吗？比其他人更喜欢我。”

“比尔，我爱你。如果我真的必须嫁给某人——真的必须——我的意思是，如果那是在一本书里，一个邪恶的官员对我说‘要么结婚，要么慢慢折磨而死’，我会立刻选择你——我真的会。我会说，‘给我小比尔。’”

“那么——”

“是的，但我不必嫁给任何人。我喜欢当一个邪恶的寡妇。”

“你仍然可以做所有那些事情。四处走动，等等。你几乎不会注意到我在家里。”

“比尔，你不理解。我这种人如果结婚，就会热情洋溢。”

比尔发出一声空洞的呻吟。

“我想我总有一天会开枪自杀，”他忧郁地低语。

“不，你不会的，亲爱的比尔。你会带一个漂亮的女孩出去吃晚餐——就像你前天晚上做的那样。”

伊弗斯利先生一时感到困惑。

“如果你指的是多萝西·柯克帕特里克，那个在《钩子和眼睛》里的女孩，我——见鬼，她是个非常不错的女孩，正直得像他们能制造的那样。那没什么不好。”

“比尔，亲爱的，当然没什么不好。我喜欢你享受自己。但别假装心碎得快要死了，就这样。”

伊弗斯利先生恢复了尊严。

“你完全不理解，弗吉尼亚，”他严肃地说。“男人——”

“是多妻的！我知道他们是。有时我敏锐地怀疑我可能是多夫的。如果你真的爱我，比尔，快点带我去吃午餐。”

伦敦的第一夜

计划再周密，也难免有疏漏。乔治·洛马克斯犯了一个错误——他的准备中有一个薄弱环节。这个薄弱环节就是比尔。

比尔·伊弗斯利是个极好的小伙子。他是个优秀的板球运动员，略懂高尔夫，举止得体，性情和善，但他进入外交部并非靠智慧，而是靠良好的人脉。对于他需要做的工作，他相当合适。他是乔治的忠实跟班。他不做任何负责或需要智慧的工作。他的角色是始终陪伴在乔治身边，会见乔治不想见的不重要的人，跑腿，以及一般地让自己变得有用。所有这些，比尔都忠实地执行了。当乔治不在时，比尔会躺在最大的椅子上阅读体育新闻，这样他只是在遵循一个古老的习俗。

乔治习惯于派比尔去跑腿，所以他派他去联合城堡办公室询问“格兰瑟城堡号”何时到达。现在，和大多数受过良好教育的年轻英国人一样，比尔的声音悦耳，但几乎听不见。任何一位演讲家都会对他的“格兰瑟”这个词的发音提出批评。它可能是什么都行。文书误听成了“卡恩弗雷”。据说“卡恩弗雷城堡号”将在下个星期四到达。他就是这样说的。比尔表示感谢，然后离开了。乔治·洛马克斯接受了这个信息，并据此制定了计划。他对联合城堡的班轮一无所知，认为詹姆斯·麦克拉思将在星期四准时到达。

因此，在他星期三上午在俱乐部台阶上紧紧抓住卡特汉姆勋爵的时候，如果他得知“格兰瑟城堡号”前一天下午就已经停靠在南安普顿，他会感到非常惊讶。

那天下午两点，安东尼·凯德以詹姆斯·麦克拉思的名字从滑铁卢火车站下了船，叫了一辆出租车，犹豫了一下后，吩咐司机前往布莱兹酒店。

“能舒适一点总是好的，”安东尼自言自语，同时带着一些兴趣从出租车窗户向外看。

他上次来伦敦已经十四年了。

他到达酒店，订了一个房间，然后沿着河堤散步。再次回到伦敦真的很愉快。当然，一切都变了。那里有一家小餐馆——就在布莱克弗里亚桥附近——他经常和一群认真的小伙子们一起在那里用餐。当时他是社会主义者，戴着一条飘逸的红领带。年轻——非常年轻。

他沿着原路返回布莱兹酒店。就在他过马路的时候，一个男人撞了他一下，差点让他失去平衡。他们俩都稳住了身形，那个男人咕哝着道歉，眼睛紧紧地打量着安东尼的脸。他是一个矮胖的工人阶级男人，外表有些异国风情。

安东尼走进酒店，一边走一边在想，是什么引起了那个人探寻的目光。可能没什么。他脸上那深沉的古铜色在苍白伦敦人中颇为引人注目，这引起了那人的注意。他回到房间，一时冲动，走到镜子前，端详起自己的脸来。在那些老朋友中——只有少数几位——如果他们面对面见到他，有哪位能认出他来呢？他缓缓地摇了摇头。

当他离开伦敦时，他刚好十八岁——一个英俊、略显丰满的男孩，有着误导性的天使般的表情。那个男孩在瘦削、棕色的脸上带着好奇的表情，被认出的可能性很小。

床边的电话响了，安东尼走到话筒前。

“喂！”

前台服务员的声音回答他。

“詹姆斯·麦格拉思先生？”

“请讲。”

“有位先生想见您。”

安东尼有些惊讶。

“见我？”

“是的，先生，一位外国先生。”

“他叫什么名字？”

稍作停顿后，服务员说：

“我将派一个信差带他的名片上来。”

安东尼放下话筒，等待。几分钟过后，门被敲响，一个小信差出现在门口，手里托着一个托盘，上面放着一张名片。

安东尼接过名片。名片上刻着以下名字：

洛洛普雷特齐尔男爵

他现在完全理解了前台服务员为何会停顿片刻。

他站在那里，研究了片刻名片，然后下定决心。

“请这位先生上来。”

“好的，先生。”

几分钟过后，巴龙洛洛普雷齐尔被引到房间里，他身材魁梧，长着一把像扇子一样的大黑胡子，高高的额头光秃秃的。

他啪的一声并拢靴子，鞠了一躬。

“麦格拉思先生，”他说。

安东尼尽可能地模仿他的动作。

“巴龙，”他说。然后，向前拉出一把椅子。“请坐。我想我们之前没有见过面，对吧？”

“是这样的，”巴龙同意道，坐了下来。“这是我的不幸，”他礼貌地补充道。

“这也是我的不幸，”安东尼以同样的语气回应。

“我们现在谈正事吧，”巴龙说。“我在伦敦代表赫尔佐斯洛伐克的忠诚党派。”

“我确信您做得非常出色，”安东尼低声说。

巴龙鞠躬以示接受恭维。

“您太好了，”他僵硬地说。“麦格拉思先生，我不会对您隐瞒任何事情。恢复君主制的时刻已经到来，自从我们最仁慈的尼古拉斯四世国王殉难以来，君主制一直处于中止状态。”

“阿门，”安东尼低声说。“我是说，太好了。”

“如果陛下登基，将会是迈克尔殿下，他得到了英国政府的支持。”

“太棒了，”安东尼说。“您告诉我这些真是太好了。”

“一切都已经安排妥当——当您来此麻烦时。”巴龙严厉地盯着他。

“亲爱的巴龙，”安东尼抗议道。

“My dear Baron, ” protested Anthony.

“是的，是的，我知道我在说什么。你手里有已故伯爵斯提尔普蒂奇的回忆录。”

他用一种指控的目光盯着安东尼。

“如果我有的话？伯爵斯提尔普蒂奇的回忆录和迈克尔亲王有什么关系？”

“它们会引起丑闻。”

“大多数回忆录都会这样，”安东尼安抚地说。

“他对许多秘密了如指掌。如果他只透露其中四分之一，欧洲可能会因此陷入战争。”

“来吧，来吧，”安东尼说，“事情不可能那么糟糕。”

“对奥博洛维奇的不满将在国外传播。英国人的精神是如此民主。”

“我完全相信，”安东尼说，“奥博洛维奇可能有时过于专横。这是血统问题。但英国人从巴尔干半岛期望那种事情。我不知道为什么，但他们确实是这样。”

“你不理解，”伯爵说，“你一点也不理解。我的嘴紧闭着。”他叹了口气。

“你究竟害怕什么？”安东尼问。

“在我阅读回忆录之前，我不知道，”伯爵简单地解释道，“但肯定会有一些东西。这些伟大的外交家总是不够谨慎。正如俗话所说，苹果车会被打翻。”

“听着，”安东尼友好地说，“我相信你对这件事过于悲观了。我对出版商很了解——他们坐在手稿上，像孵化鸡蛋一样策划。至少要一年才能出版。”

“要么是一个非常狡猾的年轻人，要么是一个非常简单的年轻人。回忆录已经在星期日报纸上安排好了，立即出版。”

“哦！”安东尼有些惊讶。“但你可以否认一切，”他满怀希望地说。

伯爵悲哀地摇了摇头。

“不，不，你还在说帽子。让我们谈谈正事。你将得到一千英镑，不是吗？你看，我得到了可靠的消息。”

“我当然要祝贺忠诚派的情报部门。”

“那么，我出价一千五百年。”

安东尼惊讶地看着他，然后沮丧地摇了摇头。

“恐怕不行，”他遗憾地说。

“好吧，我出价两千。”

“你诱惑我，伯爵，你诱惑我。但我还是说不行。”

“那你就说出你的价格。”

“恐怕你不理解我的处境。我完全愿意相信你是站在天使这边，而且这些回忆录可能会损害你的事业。然而，我已经接受了这项任务，我必须完成它。明白吗？我不允许自己被对方收买。那种事情是不会发生的。”

伯爵非常专注地听着。在安东尼讲话结束时，他多次点头。

“我明白了。你的荣誉作为一个英国绅士？”

“嗯，我们不会那样说，”安东尼说，“但我想，考虑到词汇上的差异，我们意思差不多。”

伯爵站起来。

“为了我对英国荣誉的尊重，”他宣布。“我们必须尝试另一种方法。祝你早安。”

他并拢脚跟，发出咔哒声，鞠了一躬，然后僵硬地挺直身体走出房间。

“现在我想知道他这是什么意思，”安东尼沉思道。“是威胁吗？我一点也不怕老洛波普。顺便说一句，这个名字很适合他。我要叫他洛波普男爵。”

他在房间里来回踱步，犹豫着下一步该怎么做。规定的交稿日期还有一周多。今天是10月5日。安东尼没有打算在最后一刻之前交稿。说实话，他现在急切地想阅读这些回忆录。他原本打算在过海的时候阅读，但不幸患上了轻微的发烧，根本没心情去辨认那些难以辨认的手写笔迹，因为手稿没有打字。他现在比以往任何时候都决心看看这一切究竟是怎么回事。

还有另一项工作。

一时冲动，他拿起电话簿，查找了雷维尔的名字。书中共有六个雷维尔：爱德华·亨利·雷维尔，哈莱街的外科医生；詹姆斯·雷维尔及公司，马具商；阿博特伯里大厦的伦诺克斯·雷维尔；玛丽·雷维尔小姐，住址在伊林；蒂莫西·雷维尔夫人，487庞特街；以及威利斯·雷维尔夫人，卡多根广场42号。排除了马具商和玛丽·雷维尔小姐，剩下四个名字可供调查——而且也没有理由认为那位女士住在伦敦！他摇了摇头，合上电话簿。

“目前就让它碰运气吧，”他说。“通常会有什么发现。”

像安东尼·凯德这样的人的运气可能在一定程度上归因于他们自己对运气的信念。不到半小时后，安东尼在翻阅一本插图报纸时找到了他想要的东西。这是一幅珀斯公爵夫人组织的某种场景的描绘。在中央人物下方，一位身着东方服饰的女士旁边，写着：

“蒂莫西·雷维尔夫人，尊贵的克莉奥帕特拉。在结婚前，雷维尔夫人是尊贵的弗吉尼亚·考斯隆，埃奇巴斯顿勋爵的女儿。”

安东尼盯着图片看了好一会儿，慢慢地噘起嘴唇，好像要吹口哨。然后他撕下整页，叠好，放进口袋。他再次上楼，打开手提箱，拿出那包信件。他从口袋里拿出叠好的纸张，塞在绑着信件的绳子下面。

然后，他突然听到背后有声音，猛地转过身来。一个男人站在门口，是安东尼心中想象的那种只有在喜剧歌剧合唱中才存在的人物。一个看起来阴险的人物，头短粗，嘴角向后咧开，露出邪恶的笑容。

“你在这里干什么？”安东尼问道。“是谁让你上来的？”

“我走到哪里算哪里，”陌生人说道。他的声音沙哑而异国，尽管他的英语足够地道。

“又一个意大利人，”安东尼心想。

“喂，滚出去，听到了吗？”他大声说道。

那人的目光紧紧盯着安东尼手中的信件包。

“你给我我要的东西，我就会滚出去。”

“那是什么，我可以问一下吗？”

那人向前迈了一步。

“斯提尔普蒂奇伯爵的回忆录，”他嘶嘶地说道。

“你这样说话，我很难认真对待你，”安东尼说，“你完全是个舞台上的恶棍。我很喜欢你的装扮。是谁派你来的？洛利波巴龙？”

“巴龙——？”那人发出一串听起来刺耳的辅音。

“这么说，你是这样发音的，对吗？介于漱口和狗吠之间。我觉得我自己可能说不出来——我的喉咙不是那种构造。我只好继续叫他洛利波。是他派你来的，对吗？”

但他的回答是一个强烈的否定。他的访客甚至以一种非常逼真的方式在建议上吐了唾沫。然后他从口袋里掏出一张纸，把它扔在桌子上。

“看，”他说，“看看并颤抖吧，该死的英国人。”

安东尼带着一些兴趣地看着，没有麻烦去履行命令的后半部分。纸上画着一个红色的人手，设计粗糙。

“看起来像一只手，”他评论道，“但如果你这么说，我完全愿意承认那可能是一幅立体派的北极日落画。”

“这是红手兄弟会的标志。我是红手兄弟会的一员。”

“你这么说，”安东尼带着极大的兴趣看着他，“其他人都是像你这样吗？我不知道优生学会对此会说什么。”

那人愤怒地咆哮。

“狗，”他说，“比狗还坏。一个堕落的王国的雇佣奴隶。给我回忆录，你将毫发无损。这就是兄弟会的仁慈。”

“他们一定很仁慈，”安东尼说，“但我恐怕你们俩都误解了。我的指示是交付手稿——不是给你们这个和蔼的兄弟会，而是给一家出版社。”

“呸！”另一个人嘲笑道，“你以为你能活着到达那个办公室吗？别再胡说八道了。交出文件，否则我就开枪。”

他从口袋里掏出一把手枪，挥舞着它在空中。

但他在判断安东尼·凯德时犯了错误。他不习惯于那些能够迅速行动——或者比他们思考得更快的人。安东尼没有等到手枪指向他。几乎就在那个人从口袋里掏出手枪的同时，安东尼就向前冲去，把它从他的手中击落。这一击的力量使那个人旋转起来，背对着攻击者。

这个机会太好了，不容错过。安东尼用一次强大而精准的踢腿，将那个人踢飞过门，进入走廊，他倒在地上，成一团。

安东尼跟在他身后走了出去，但那位勇敢的红手同志已经受够了。他敏捷地站起来，沿着走廊逃走。安东尼没有追赶他，而是回到了自己的房间。

“红手同志们就这样了，”他评论道，“外表引人注目，但很容易就被直接行动打败了。我好奇那个人是怎么进来的？有一件事很清楚——这份工作不会像我想的那么轻松。我已经得罪了忠诚派和革命派。不久，我想，国民党和独立自由党也会派代表团来。有一件事是确定的。我今晚就开始写那篇手稿。”

看着他的手表，安东尼发现快九点了，他决定就在这里用餐。他并不期待会有更多的意外拜访，但他觉得有必要保持警惕。他不想在他下楼到餐厅时，让他的手提箱被翻找。他按了铃，要了一份菜单，点了几道菜，还要了一瓶波尔多红酒。服务员接了单后离开了。

在等待餐点到来的时候，安东尼拿出那份手稿，和信件一起放在桌子上。

门被敲响了，服务员带着一个小桌子和餐点用品走了进来。安东尼走到壁炉架旁。他背对着房间，正对着镜子，漫不经心地瞥了一眼，注意到一个奇怪的事情。

服务员的眼神紧紧盯着那包手稿。他时不时地斜眼瞥一眼安东尼那坚定不移的背影，轻轻地绕过桌子。他的手在颤抖，不停地舔着干燥的嘴唇。安东尼更仔细地观察他。他是个高个子，像所有服务员一样灵活，脸刮得很干净，表情生动。安东尼心想，他是个意大利人，不是法国人。

在关键时刻，安东尼突然转过身来。服务员微微一惊，但假装在摆弄盐罐。

“你叫什么名字？”安东尼突然问道。

“Giuseppe，先生。”

“意大利人，对吧？”

“是的，先生。”

安东尼用那种语言和他交谈，那个人回答得很流利。最后，安东尼点头让他离开，但整个吃饭的过程中，他都在快速思考。

他是不是弄错了？Giuseppe对手稿的兴趣只是普通的好奇？可能是这样，但想起那个人兴奋的狂热，安东尼决定不这么认为。尽管如此，他还是感到困惑。

“该死，”安东尼自言自语，“不可能每个人都想要那份该死的手稿。也许是我多心了。”

晚餐结束，餐具被清理干净后，他开始阅读《回忆录》。由于已故伯爵的字迹难以辨认，这项工作进展缓慢。安东尼的哈欠接踵而至，速度之快令人怀疑。在读完第四章后，他放弃了。

到目前为止，他发现《回忆录》极其枯燥，没有任何丑闻的暗示。

他将堆放在桌子上的信件和手稿的包装纸收拾起来，锁进手提箱。然后他锁上了门，作为额外的预防措施，他在门后放了一把椅子。椅子上放着浴室的水瓶。

他带着一丝自豪地审视着这些准备工作，脱衣上床。他再次尝试阅读伯爵的《回忆录》，但感到眼皮沉重，于是他把手稿塞到枕头下，关掉灯，几乎立刻就睡着了。

他一定是睡了大约四个小时后突然惊醒。他不知道是什么把他惊醒——可能是一个声音，也可能是只有冒险生活的人才会充分发展的危险意识。

他一动不动地躺了一会儿，试图集中注意力。他能听到一种非常隐秘的沙沙声，然后他意识到在窗子和自己之间有一片更浓重的黑暗——在放着手提箱的地板上。

安东尼突然从床上跳起来，一边跳起来一边打开灯。一个身影从它跪在手提箱旁边的地方跳了起来。

那是服务员，朱塞佩。他右手握着一把又长又细的刀。他直冲安东尼扑来，这时安东尼已经完全意识到自己的危险。他是手无寸铁的，而朱塞佩显然对自己的武器了如指掌。

安东尼向一侧跳开，朱塞佩的刀没有击中他。下一分钟，两人一起滚落在地板上，紧紧拥抱在一起。安东尼的全部精力都集中在紧紧抓住朱塞佩的右臂上，使他无法使用刀子。他慢慢地把右臂向后弯曲。同时，他感觉到意大利人的另一只手紧紧抓住他的喉咙，使他窒息，使他窒息。然而，他还是拼命地把右臂向后弯曲。

刀子掉落在地板上，发出一声尖锐的叮当声。同时，意大利人迅速地从安东尼的掌握中挣脱出来。安东尼也跳了起来，但他犯了一个错误，那就是向门口移动，试图切断对方的退路。他太晚了才看到椅子和水瓶就摆在他安排的位置上。

朱塞佩是从窗户进来的，现在他要从窗户出去。在安东尼向门口移动给他的一瞬间喘息的机会，他跳到阳台上，跳到相邻的阳台上，然后从相邻的窗户消失了。

安东尼很清楚，继续追赶他是没有用的。他撤退的方式无疑已经万无一失。安东尼只会自找麻烦。

他走到床边，把手伸到枕头下面，拿出《回忆录》。幸运的是，它们就在那里，而不是在行李箱里。他走到行李箱前，往里看，打算取出那些信件。

然后他在心里默默地咒骂了一声。

_信件不见了。_

勒索的艺术

正好差五分钟四点，弗吉尼亚·里维尔，由于好奇心驱使，准时回到了庞特街的房子。她用钥匙打开门，走进大厅，立刻被无动于衷的奇尔弗斯拦住。

“对不起，夫人，但——有人想见您——”

一时间，弗吉尼亚没有注意到奇尔弗斯巧妙地掩饰意思的措辞。

“洛马克斯先生？他在哪里？在客厅吗？”

“哦，不，夫人，不是洛马克斯先生。”奇尔弗斯的语气中带着一丝责备。“有人——我不愿让他进来，但他说他的事非常紧急——据我理解，是与已故上校有关。因此，我想您可能想见他，我就——把他——放在了书房。”

弗吉尼亚站了一会儿思考。她已经守寡多年，有些人认为她很少提及丈夫，这表明在她漫不经心的外表下，仍有一道未愈的伤痕。而有些人则认为正好相反，弗吉尼亚从未真正关心蒂姆·里维尔，她觉得假装哀悼她并不感到的悲伤是不真诚的。

“我应该提到的，夫人，”奇尔弗斯继续说，“那个人看起来像是个外国人。”

弗吉尼亚的兴趣稍微提高了。她的丈夫曾在外交部门工作，他们在国王和王后被轰动一时的谋杀案杀害之前曾在赫佐斯洛伐克一起工作。这个人可能是个赫佐斯洛伐克人，某个日子不好的老仆人。

“你做得完全正确，奇尔弗斯，”她迅速点头表示赞同。“你说你把他放在哪里了？在书房？”

她轻盈地穿过大厅，打开连接餐厅的小房间门。

来访者坐在壁炉边的椅子上。她进来时，他站起来，看着她。弗吉尼亚对面孔的记忆力很好，她立刻确信她以前从未见过这个人。他身材高大，肤色黝黑，体态灵活，显然是个外国人；但她不认为他是斯拉夫血统。她把他归为意大利人或可能是西班牙人。

“您想见我？”她问，“我是里维尔夫人。”

那个人好一会儿都没有回答。他慢慢地打量着她，好像在仔细评估她。他的态度中有一丝隐藏的傲慢，她立刻感觉到了。

“您能告诉我您的来意吗？”她带着一丝不耐烦地说。

“您是雷维尔夫人？蒂莫西·雷维尔夫人？”

“是的。我刚才已经告诉过您了。”

“没错。雷维尔夫人，您同意见我真是太好了。否则，正如我告诉您的管家那样，我不得不和您的丈夫做生意。”

弗吉尼亚惊讶地看着他，但某种冲动让她压制住了脱口而出的反驳。她只是干巴巴地评论道：

“您要这么做可能有些困难。”

“我想不会。我非常坚持不懈。但我会直截了当。或许您认得出这个？”

他手里挥舞着什么。

弗吉尼亚看了一眼，没什么兴趣。

“您能告诉我这是什么吗，夫人？”

“这似乎是一封信，”弗吉尼亚回答说，此时她已经确信自己遇到了一个精神错乱的人。

“或许您注意到了这封信的收件人，”那个男人意味深长地说，把信递给她。

“我会读的，”弗吉尼亚愉快地告诉他。

“它写给巴黎奎奈尔街15号的奥尼尔上尉，”弗吉尼亚说。

那个男人似乎饥渴地搜索着她的脸，寻找着什么，但什么也没找到。

“您能读一读吗？”

弗吉尼亚从他手里接过信封，抽出里面的信件，瞥了一眼；但几乎立刻她僵硬起来，又把它递给了他。

“这是一封私人信件——显然不是给我的。”

那个男人讽刺地笑了。

“我祝贺您，雷维尔夫人，您的演技真是无可挑剔。您扮演的角色完美无缺。不过，我想您很难否认签名！”

“签名？”

弗吉尼亚翻过信封——惊讶得说不出话来。签名，用一种优雅的斜体字书写，是弗吉尼亚·雷维尔。

她压制住唇边升起的惊呼，又回到信的开头，故意把整封信读了一遍。然后她站了一会儿，陷入沉思。信的内容清楚地表明了前景。

“嗯，夫人？”那个男人说，“那是您的名字，对吗？”

“哦，是的，”弗吉尼亚说，“是我的名字。”“但不是我的笔迹，”她本可以补充。

相反，她对着来访者露出了一个迷人的微笑。

“假设，”她说得温柔，“我们坐下来谈谈这件事？”

他感到困惑。他没想到她会这样反应。他的直觉告诉他，她并不害怕他。

“首先，我想知道您是怎么找到我的？”

“这很简单。”

他从口袋里掏出一张从插图报纸上撕下来的纸页，递给她。安东尼·凯德会认出那是什么。

她带着一丝深思的皱眉把纸还给了他。

“我明白了，”她说，“这很容易。”

“无论如何，”她微笑着对他说，“你打电话来还给我这些信，真是太好了。”

他清了清喉咙，沉默了一会儿。

“我是一个穷人，雷维尔夫人，”他最后带着几分庄重地说。

“作为穷人，你无疑会更容易进入天堂，至少我总是这么听说。”

“我无法让你白拿这些信。”

“我想你可能误会了。这些信是写信人的财产。”

“这可能就是法律，夫人，但在这个国家，你们有句俗语‘占有即九成胜诉’。而且，无论如何，你准备好诉诸法律了吗？”

“法律对勒索者很严厉，”弗吉尼亚提醒他。

“得了吧，雷维尔夫人，我还不至于那么傻。我已经看过这些信——都是一位女性写给情人的信，每一封都透露出她对丈夫发现真相的恐惧。你希望我把它们给你丈夫？”

“你忽略了一种可能性。这些信是几年前写的。假设从那时起——我成了寡妇。”

他自信地摇了摇头。

“在这种情况下——如果你没有什么好怕的，你就不会坐在这里和我讨价还价。”

弗吉尼亚微笑了。

“你开价多少？”她以商量的口吻问道。

“一千英镑，我会把全部信件交给你。我要求的并不多；但是，你知道，我不喜欢这种生意。”

“我绝不会给你一千英镑，”弗吉尼亚果断地说。

“夫人，我从不讨价还价。一千英镑，我会把信放在你手中。”

弗吉尼亚沉思了一会儿。

“你必须给我一点时间考虑。对我来说，凑齐这笔钱并不容易。”

“预付一些钱吧——比如说五十英镑——我还会再来的。”

弗吉尼亚抬头看了看钟。已经四点零五分了，她觉得好像听到了铃声。

“好吧，”她急忙说，“明天再来，但要比现在晚。大约六点。”

她走到墙边的一张桌子前，打开一个抽屉，拿出了一把凌乱的钞票。

“这里大约有四十英镑。这应该足够了。”

他迫不及待地抓了过去。

“现在请立刻离开，”弗吉尼亚说。

他顺从地离开了房间。弗吉尼亚透过敞开的门瞥见了乔治·洛马克斯在走廊里，恰巧被奇尔斯领上楼。前门关上时，弗吉尼亚叫住了他。

“进来这里，乔治。奇尔斯，请你把茶端到这里来，好吗？”

她猛地打开了两扇窗户，乔治·洛马克斯走进房间，看到她站得笔直，眼睛闪烁，头发被风吹得飘动。

“我马上关上，乔治，但我觉得房间应该通通风。你在走廊里绊倒了勒索者？”

“什么？”

“勒索者，乔治。B.L.A.C.K.M.A.I.L.E.R？勒索者。一个勒索别人的人。”

“我亲爱的弗吉尼亚，你不是认真的吧！”

“哦，但我是认真的，乔治。”

“可他是来这儿勒索谁的？”

“我，乔治。”

“但是，我亲爱的弗吉尼亚，你做了些什么？”

“嗯，碰巧这一次，我什么都没做。那位好先生把我误认作别人了。”

“你给警察打电话了，我想？”

“没有，我没有。我想你也许觉得我应该这么做。”

“嗯——”乔治严肃地考虑了一下。“不，不，也许不一定——也许你做得明智。你可能会因为这件案子而卷入一些不愉快的公众舆论。你可能甚至不得不出庭作证——”

“我很乐意这么做，”弗吉尼亚说。“我很想被传唤，我想看看法官们是否真的像你读到的那些笑话里说的那样糟糕。那会非常刺激。前几天我去了文森特街，想看看我丢失的一枚钻石胸针，那里有一个最完美的漂亮督察——我见过的最好的人。”

乔治像往常一样，让所有无关紧要的事情都过去了。

“但是你打算怎么对付这个恶棍呢？”

“嗯，乔治，恐怕我让他那么做了。”

“做什么？”

“勒索我。”

乔治那惊恐的表情是如此动人，弗吉尼亚不得不咬住自己的下唇。

“你是说——我是不是理解你意思是说，你没有纠正他正受其困扰的误解？”

弗吉尼亚摇了摇头，向他投去一个侧目。

“天哪，弗吉尼亚，你一定是疯了。”

“我想在你看来是这样的。”

“但是为什么？看在上天的份上，为什么？”

“有几个原因。首先，他勒索得如此完美——我是指勒索我——我不忍心打断一个艺术家在他真正工作时。”

“而且，你知道，我从未被勒索过——”

“我确实希望没有。”

“我想体验一下是什么感觉。”

“我完全无法理解你，弗吉尼亚。”

“我知道你不会理解的。”

“你没有给他钱，希望吧？”

“一点小钱，”弗吉尼亚抱歉地说。

“多少？”

“四十英镑。”

“弗吉尼亚！”

“亲爱的乔治，那只是我买一件晚礼服的钱。买一个新体验和买一件新衣服一样刺激——事实上，更有趣。”

“我还有另一个动机，乔治——一个更明亮、更美好的动机。我们女人通常被认为像猫，但无论如何，我今天下午又帮了一个女人的忙。这个男人不太可能再去寻找另一个弗吉尼亚·雷维尔。他认为他已经找到了他的小鸟。可怜的小家伙，她写那封信的时候心情沮丧。那个敲诈勒索者那里将会是他一生中最容易的工作。现在，尽管他不知道，但他面临的是一个棘手的问题。从拥有无懈可击的生活这个巨大优势开始，我将玩弄他，直到他毁灭——就像书里说的。诡计，乔治，很多诡计。”

乔治仍然摇着头。

“我不喜欢这样，”他坚持道，“我不喜欢。”

“好吧，别担心，亲爱的乔治。你来这里不是为了谈论敲诈者。顺便问一下，你来这里是为了什么？正确答案是：‘来看你！’重点在‘你’上，除非你恰好吃了大量黄油松饼，那样的话，所有的动作都必须用眼睛来完成。”

“我是来看你的，”乔治认真地说，“很高兴看到你一个人在这里。”

“哦，乔治，这太突然了，”她说，吞下一颗蔓越莓。

“我想请你帮个忙。我一直认为你，弗吉尼亚，是一个非常有魅力的女人。”

“哦，乔治！”

“也是一个有智慧的女人！”

“真的吗？这个人对我了解得多深。”

“亲爱的弗吉尼亚，你知道，我并不是以‘魅力’为职业。我经常喜欢人们——然后，嗯，他们也喜欢我。但我不认为我能够冷酷无情地去吸引一个无助的陌生人。这种事情是不做的，乔治，真的不是。有专业的海妖会做得比我好得多。”

“这是不可能的，弗吉尼亚。这位年轻人，他是个加拿大人，名叫麦格拉思——”

“一个苏格兰血统的加拿大人，”她说，聪明地推断道。

“可能对英国上流社会的生活很不习惯。我想让他欣赏真正英国贵妇人的魅力和风度。”

“意味着我？”

“正是。”

“为什么？”

“请原谅，我说为什么？你不会对每个踏上我们国土的加拿大人都吹嘘真正的英国贵妇人。你有什么深意，乔治？通俗点说，你从这中间得到了什么？”

“我看不出这与你有什么关系，弗吉尼亚。”

“我无法出去过一个晚上去吸引别人，除非我知道所有的原因和理由。”

“弗吉尼亚，你表达事情的方式非常奇特。任何人都会认为——”

“不会吗？来吧，乔治，再透露一点信息。”

“I said why? You don’t boom the real English gentlewoman with every stray Canadian who sets foot upon our shores. What is the deep idea, George? To put it vulgarly, what do _you_ get out of it? ”

“I cannot see that that concerns you, Virginia.”

“I couldn’t possibly go out for an evening and fascinate, unless I knew all the whys and wherefors.”

“You have a most extraordinary way of putting things, Virginia. Anyone would think——”

“Wouldn’t they? Come on, George, part with a little more information.”

我亲爱的弗吉尼亚，不久某个中欧国家的局势可能会有些紧张。由于一些无关紧要的原因，重要的是要让这位——嗯，麦格拉斯先生——意识到，恢复捷克斯洛伐克的君主制对欧洲的和平至关重要。

“关于欧洲和平的部分全是胡说，”弗吉尼亚平静地说，“但我每次都支持君主制，尤其是像捷克斯洛伐克人这样富有画面感的人民。所以你是在捷克斯洛伐克国家推行国王制，对吧？他是谁？”

乔治不愿回答，但又找不到回避问题的理由。这次会面完全不像他计划的那样进行。他原本预期弗吉尼亚会是一个愿意顺从的工具，感激地接受他的暗示，不会提出尴尬的问题。但这远非事实。她似乎决心了解一切，而这个对女性判断力持怀疑态度的乔治，决心不惜一切代价避免。他犯了一个错误。弗吉尼亚不适合这个角色。她确实可能会引起严重的麻烦。她对勒索者采访的描述让他深感忧虑。她是一个极其不可靠的人，根本不知道如何严肃对待严肃的事情。

“迈克尔·奥博洛维奇亲王，”他回答道，因为弗吉尼亚显然在等待她问题的答案。“但请不要再让这件事传得更多了。”

“别荒谬了，乔治。报纸上已经有很多暗示，还有文章大肆吹捧奥博洛维奇王朝，把被谋杀的尼古拉斯四世描述成介于圣人和英雄之间的人物，而不是一个被三流女演员迷得团团转的愚蠢小人物。”

乔治皱了皱眉。他比以往任何时候都确信，他请弗吉尼亚帮忙是一个错误。他必须迅速摆脱她。

“你说得对，我亲爱的弗吉尼亚，”他匆忙地站起来，向她告别时说，“我不该向你提出那样的建议。但我们急于让自治领看到，我们在捷克斯洛伐克危机上与他们看法一致，我相信麦格拉斯在新闻界有影响力。作为一个热情的君主主义者，加上你对这个国家的了解，我认为你与他见面是个好主意。”

“这就是解释，对吧？”

“是的，但我敢说您不会喜欢他的。”

弗吉尼亚看着他，然后笑了。

“乔治，”她说，“你是个糟糕的骗子。”

“弗吉尼亚！”

“糟糕，绝对是糟糕！如果我有你的训练，我能编造一个更好的谎话——一个有可能被人相信的谎话。但我会弄清楚一切的，可怜的乔治。请放心，我会的。《麦格拉斯先生的谜团》。这周末我如果在烟囱里得到一两个线索，我也不会感到惊讶。”

“在烟囱？你要去烟囱？”

乔治无法掩饰他的不安。他原本希望能在邀请发出之前及时到达卡特汉姆勋爵那里。

“班德今天早上给我打电话了。”

乔治做出了最后的努力。

“我想这次聚会相当无聊，”他说，“对你来说，维吉尼亚，这不太合适。”

“我可怜的乔治，你为什么不告诉我真相，相信我呢？还不算太晚。”

乔治握住她的手，又无力地放下。

“我已经告诉你真相了，”他冷冷地说，而且他说得毫无愧色。

“这个好一些，”维吉尼亚表示赞同，“但还不够好。振作起来，乔治，我会去Chimneys的，发挥我相当的魅力——就像你说的。生活突然变得非常有趣。先是勒索者，然后是乔治陷入外交困境。他会把一切都告诉那个如此悲惨地寻求他信任的美女吗？不，他会一直保持沉默，直到最后一章。再见，乔治。在你离开之前再深情地看一眼？不？哦，乔治，亲爱的，别这么别扭！”

乔治拖着沉重的步伐穿过前门离开后，维吉尼亚立刻跑向电话。

她找到了所需的号码，并要求与伊莲·布伦特夫人通话。

“是你吗，小包裹？我明天会去Chimneys。什么？让我无聊？不，不会的。小包裹，就算野马也拦不住我！所以，就这样！”

麦格拉斯先生拒绝邀请

信件不见了！

一旦下定决心接受这个事实，除了接受，别无他法。安东尼非常清楚，他不能通过Blitz酒店的走廊追踪Giuseppe。这样做只会招致不必要的关注，而且很可能最终无法达到目的。

他得出结论，Giuseppe把装在其它包裹里的信件误认为是回忆录本身。因此，当Giuseppe发现他的错误时，他可能会再次尝试获取回忆录。为此，安东尼打算做好充分的准备。

他想到的另一个计划是悄悄地登广告寻找信件包的归还。假设Giuseppe是红手兄弟会的使者，或者，在安东尼看来更可能的是，他被忠诚党雇佣，这些信件对任何雇主都没有可能产生兴趣，他可能会抓住机会，为了信件的归还而获得一小笔钱。

想清楚这一切后，安东尼回到床上，平静地睡到早上。他并不认为Giuseppe会在那个晚上急于再次见面。

安东尼起床时，他的行动计划已经完全想好。他吃了一顿丰盛的早餐，浏览了报纸上关于赫佐斯拉维亚新发现石油的报道，然后要求与经理见面，作为安东尼·凯德，他凭借坚定的决心和获得自己所需的能力，得到了他想要的。

经理是一位举止优雅的法国人，在他的私人办公室接待了他。

“我明白您想见我，麦格拉斯先生——呃——？”

“我确实去了。昨天下午我到达了您的酒店，晚餐是在我的房间里由一位名叫Giuseppe的侍者为我准备的。”

他停顿了一下。

“我敢说我们这里确实有一位名叫Giuseppe的侍者，”经理漠不关心地同意道。

“我对这位侍者的举止感到有些不寻常，但当时并没有多想。后来，在夜里，我被一阵轻微的移动声惊醒了。我打开灯，发现正是这位Giuseppe正在翻我的皮箱。”

经理的冷漠现在完全消失了。

“但我对此事一无所知，”他惊呼道。“为什么我没有早点被告知？”

“那个人和我发生了一场短暂的搏斗——顺便说一下，他手里拿着一把刀。最后他成功通过窗户逃跑了。”

“麦格拉特先生，您接下来做了什么？”

“我检查了我的皮箱里的东西。”

“有什么东西被拿走了吗？”

“没有什么——重要的东西，”安东尼缓缓地说。

经理叹了口气，靠回椅背上。

“我很高兴是这样，”他评论道。“但您得允许我说，麦格拉特先生，我对您在这件事上的态度并不完全理解。您没有试图唤醒酒店？去追捕那个小偷？”

安东尼耸了耸肩。

“正如我告诉您的，没有什么值钱的东西被拿走。当然，我知道从严格意义上说，这是一起应该报警的案件——”

他停顿了一下，经理没有太多热情地咕哝道：

“报警——当然——”

“无论如何，我相当确信那个人会设法逃脱，既然没有什么东西被拿走，为什么还要麻烦警察呢？”

经理微微一笑。

“我明白了，麦格拉特先生，您意识到，我对警察的介入并不怎么热心。从我的角度来看，这总是灾难性的。如果报纸能抓住与这家时尚酒店有关的东西，他们总是会大肆报道，不管实际内容多么微不足道。”

“完全正确，”安东尼同意道。“现在，我告诉您，没有什么值钱的东西被拿走，这在某种程度上是真实的。对那个小偷来说，没有什么值钱的东西被拿走，但他拿到了对我而言相当有价值的东西。”

“啊？”

“信件，您明白的。”

一种只有法国人才能表现出的超凡的谨慎表情出现在经理的脸上。

“我明白了，”他咕哝道。“但完全明白。当然，这不是警察该管的事情。”

“我们在这一点上完全达成一致。但您会理解，我非常希望能够找回这些信件。在我来自的那个世界，人们习惯于自己解决问题。因此，我需要您提供尽可能多的关于这位侍者Giuseppe的信息。”

“我对此没有异议，”经理停顿了片刻后说道。“当然，我无法立刻提供信息，但如果你半小时后回来，我会把所有准备好的信息都摆在你面前。”

“非常感谢。这对我非常合适。”

半小时后，安东尼再次回到办公室，发现经理确实言出必行。一张纸上记下了关于朱塞佩·马内利的所有相关事实。

“你看，他大约三个月前来到我们这里。一位技艺娴熟的资深服务员。工作表现完全令人满意。他在英国大约待了五年。”

两位男士一起回顾了朱塞佩曾经工作的酒店和餐厅名单。其中一个事实让安东尼觉得可能具有重要意义。在朱塞佩工作的两家酒店中，在他任职期间都发生过严重的盗窃案，尽管在这两起案件中都没有任何怀疑指向他。然而，这个事实是值得注意的。

朱塞佩仅仅是一位聪明的酒店小偷吗？他对安东尼的行李箱的搜查是否只是他习惯性的职业手段的一部分？他可能在安东尼打开灯的那一刻手里拿着那包信件，机械地将其塞进口袋，以便手部自由。在这种情况下，这只是一次普通的或花园式的抢劫。

然而，与此相对的是，前一天晚上他在看到桌上散落的文件时的激动。那里没有钱或其他有价值的物品，这些物品足以激起一个普通小偷的贪欲。

不，安东尼坚信朱塞佩是在为某个外部机构行事。有了经理提供的信息，他可能了解朱塞佩的私人生活，并最终追踪到他。他收拾起那张纸条，站起身来。

“非常感谢。我想不必问朱塞佩是否还在酒店里了？”

经理微笑着。

“他的床没有被睡过，所有东西都留在了那里。他肯定是在攻击你之后立刻冲出去的。我觉得我们不太可能再见到他。”

“我想也是。嗯，非常感谢。我暂时会留在这里。”

“我希望你在任务中能成功，但我必须承认我有些怀疑。”

“我总是希望最好的。”

安东尼的第一步行动是询问一些与朱塞佩友好的其他服务员，但他得到的线索很少。他按照计划写出了广告，并将其发送到五家最广泛阅读的报纸。他正准备出去访问朱塞佩之前曾经工作的那家餐厅，这时电话响了。安东尼拿起听筒。

“你好，什么事？”

一个无感情的声音回答。

“我在和麦格拉思先生说话吗？”

“你就是。你是谁？”

“这是鲍德森和霍金森先生。请稍等，我马上帮您转接鲍德森先生。”

“我们尊贵的出版商，”安东尼心想，“所以他们也开始担心了，是吗？他们不必担心。还有一周的时间。”

突然，一个洪亮的声音在他的耳边响起。

“喂！是麦格拉思先生吗？”

“请讲。”

“我是鲍德森和霍金森的鲍德森先生。关于那份手稿，麦格拉思先生，怎么样了？”

“嗯，”安东尼说，“怎么样了？”

“关于手稿的一切。麦格拉思先生，我听说您刚从南非来到这个国家。既然如此，您是不可能理解这个情况的。关于那份手稿，麦格拉思先生，将会有一场大麻烦。有时候我真希望我们当初没有答应处理它。”

“真的吗？”

“我向您保证是这样的。目前我急于尽快拿到手稿，以便复制几份。然后，如果原件被销毁——嗯，那就不会有任何损失了。”

“哎呀，”安东尼说。

“是的，我预计这听起来对您来说很荒谬，麦格拉思先生。但是，我向您保证，您并不了解情况。有人正竭力阻止手稿永远到达我们的办公室。我坦白地告诉您，如果您自己尝试带来手稿，十有八九您永远到不了这里。”

“我怀疑这一点，”安东尼说，“当我想要去任何地方时，我通常都能做到。”

“你面临的是一群非常危险的人。一个月前我自己都不相信。我告诉你，麦格拉思先生，我们被这一群又一群的人贿赂、威胁和哄骗，直到我们不知道自己是头朝上还是脚朝天。我的建议是，您不要尝试把手稿带来。我们的人会去酒店找您，并接管手稿。”

“如果那帮人把他做了呢？”安东尼问。

“那么责任就由我们来承担——不是您的。您已经将手稿交给我们的代表，并获得了书面证明。根据我们与已故——嗯——作者遗嘱执行人的协议，那——嗯——一千英镑的支票将在下周三之前无法兑现。如果您坚持，我会通过信使亲自给您开一张同等金额的支票。”

安东尼思考了一两分钟。他原本打算将回忆录保留到宽限期的最后一天，因为他急于亲自看看所有这些骚动的缘由。然而，他也意识到出版商的论点很有说服力。

“好吧，”他叹了口气说，“随你的便。派你的人来。如果你不介意现在就寄那张支票，我宁愿现在就收到，因为我可能在下个星期三之前就离开英国了。”

当然，麦格拉思先生。我们的代表明天一早就来拜访您。最好不要直接派任何人从办公室过来。我们的霍姆斯先生住在南伦敦。他会在来这里的路上拜访您，并给您一份包裹收据。我建议您今晚将一个空包裹放在经理的保险箱里。您的敌人会听说这件事，这可以防止他们今晚对您的住所发动攻击。”

“好的，我会按照您说的去做。”

安东尼面带沉思地挂断了电话。

然后，他继续执行中断的计划，寻找那个狡猾的朱塞佩的消息。然而，他一无所获。朱塞佩曾在那家餐厅工作，但似乎没有人知道他的私生活或他的朋友。

“但我一定会抓住你，小子，”安东尼咬牙切齿地低声说，“我一定会抓住你。这只是时间问题。”

他在伦敦的第二夜过得非常平静。

第二天早上九点，巴尔泽森和霍金森先生的霍姆斯先生的卡片被送了上来，霍姆斯先生随后也到了。一个身材矮小、皮肤白皙的人，举止平静。安东尼交出了手稿，并收到了一张一千英镑的支票。霍姆斯先生将手稿装进他携带的小棕色袋子里，向安东尼道了早安，然后离开了。整个过程看起来非常平淡。

“但也许他在去那里的路上会被谋杀，”安东尼大声低语，同时无聊地望着窗外，“我现在很想知道——我真的很好奇。”

他将支票放入信封，附上几行字，然后小心地封好。吉米在布尔瓦约与安东尼相遇时手头还算宽裕，已经借给他一大笔钱，这笔钱至今还未动用。

“如果一件工作完成了，另一件还没完成，”安东尼自言自语道，“到目前为止，我搞砸了。但决不能放弃。我认为，如果适当伪装，我应该去看看庞特街487号。”

他收拾好行李，下楼结账，并让行李放在出租车里。他适当地奖赏了那些挡他路的人，其中大多数人实际上并没有为他带来任何实质性的舒适，他正准备被开车送走，这时一个小男孩跑下楼梯，手里拿着一封信。

“正是现在，先生，专程给您送来的。”

安东尼叹了口气，又拿出了一便士。出租车沉重地呻吟着，齿轮发出可怕的撞击声，然后向前冲去，安东尼打开了信。

这是一份相当奇怪的文件。他不得不读四遍才能确信它的全部内容。用通俗易懂的话来说（这封信并非通俗易懂，而是政府官员发出的信件那种特有的复杂风格）它暗示麦格雷先生今天将从南非抵达英格兰——星期四，它间接提到了斯托尔普蒂奇伯爵的回忆录，并恳请麦格雷先生在此事上不要采取任何行动，直到他与乔治·洛马克斯先生以及某些其他人物（他们的显赫地位只是含糊地暗示）进行了一次秘密谈话。信中还明确邀请他第二天，即星期五，作为卡特汉姆勋爵的客人前往 Chimneys。

这是一份神秘而完全晦涩的通讯。安东尼非常喜欢它。

“亲爱的老英格兰，”他亲昵地低语。“一如既往，落后两天。真遗憾。不过，我不能在 Chimneys 以假身份出现。不过，我想知道附近有没有旅馆？安东尼·凯德先生可以在那里住下，而没有人会察觉。”

他探出身子，向出租车司机下达了新的指令，司机带着轻蔑的哼声接受了。

出租车停在了伦敦一家较为隐秘的旅馆前。然而，车费却按照其出发地点的标准支付。

在以安东尼·凯德的名义预订了房间后，安东尼走进了一间昏暗的写作室，拿出了一张印有“Hotel Blitz”字样的信纸，迅速地写了起来。

他解释说他在前一天星期二到达，已经将那份手稿交给了巴尔泽森和霍金斯先生，他遗憾地拒绝了卡特汉姆勋爵的好意，因为他几乎马上就要离开英格兰了。他在信上签名为“忠实地，詹姆斯·麦格雷特。”

“现在，”安东尼在将邮票贴在信封上时说。“开始工作。詹姆斯·麦格雷特退场，安东尼·凯德登场。”

一个死者

就在那天下午，弗吉尼亚·里维尔在雷内拉格打网球。当她躺在那辆长而豪华的轿车后排座位上，一路回到庞特街时，她嘴角挂着微笑，排练着即将到来的采访中的角色。当然，黑帮分子可能不会再次出现，但她相当确信他会出现。她已经让自己显得很容易被捕获。好吧，也许这次会有点惊喜给他！

当汽车停在房子前时，她在上楼梯之前转向司机说话。

“沃尔顿，你妻子怎么样？我忘了问。”

“我想她好多了，夫人。医生说她会在六点半左右去看她。您还需要用车吗？”

弗吉尼亚思考了一会儿。

我将离开这个周末。我将于周六早上6点40分从帕丁顿出发，但这次不需要你了——出租车就足够了。我更希望你能去看医生。如果他认为你的妻子去度个周末对她有好处，带她去某个地方，沃尔顿，我愿意承担费用。”

弗吉尼亚不耐烦地摇了摇头，打断了他的道谢，然后跑上台阶，翻遍了自己的包寻找钥匙，突然想起自己没带钥匙，于是急忙按响了门铃。

门铃响了一阵，但没有立刻有人应答。就在她等待的时候，一个年轻人上了台阶。他穿着邋遢，手里拿着一叠传单。他向弗吉尼亚递出一本，上面清楚地写着：“我为什么为国家服务？”他左手拿着一个募捐箱。

“我今天一天都不想买两本那种糟糕的诗，”弗吉尼亚恳求道，“我今天早上已经买了一本了。我确实信守诺言。”

年轻人仰头大笑，弗吉尼亚也跟着笑了。她漫不经心地打量着他，觉得他比平时更符合伦敦失业者的形象。她喜欢他的棕色脸庞，他那瘦削而坚毅的身材。她甚至希望他能找到一份工作。

但就在这时，门开了，弗吉尼亚立刻将失业者的问题抛诸脑后，因为她惊讶地发现开门的是她自己的女仆，伊莉丝。

“奇尔弗斯在哪里？”她严厉地问道，一边走进大厅。

“但他和其他人一样，已经走了。”

“什么其他人？去哪里了？”

“去达切特，夫人——去小屋，就像您的电报上说的。”

“我的电报？”弗吉尼亚完全摸不着头脑。

“夫人没有发电报吗？肯定不会有误。它是一个小时前到的。”

“我从未发过任何电报。电报上写了什么？”

“我相信它还在桌子上的那个地方。”

伊莉丝退了出去，扑到桌子上，带着胜利的姿态把电报拿给女主人看。

“看这里，夫人！”

电报是写给奇尔弗斯的，内容如下：

“请立即带全家到小屋，为那里的周末聚会做好准备。乘坐5点49分的火车。”

电报上没有什么异常，这正是她以前经常发送的那种信息，当她临时决定在河边的别墅举办聚会时。她总是把整个家庭都带下去，留下一个老妇人看管。奇尔弗斯不会觉得电报有什么问题，而且像一位好仆人一样，他忠实地执行了他的命令。

“我留下，”伊莉丝解释道，“知道夫人会希望我帮她打包。”

“这只是一个愚蠢的恶作剧，”弗吉尼亚愤怒地扔下电报。“你知道得很清楚，伊莉丝，我要去烟囱屋。我今天早上已经告诉过你了。”

“我以为夫人改变了主意。有时候这种情况会发生，不是吗，夫人？”

弗吉尼亚带着一丝微笑承认了指控的真实性。她正忙着寻找这个不同寻常的恶作剧的原因。艾莉丝提出了一个建议。

“天哪！”她叫道，双手合十。“如果那是恶棍们，小偷们！他们发了个假的电报，把所有仆人都从家里赶出去，然后抢走了东西。”

“我想那可能就是了，”弗吉尼亚怀疑地说。

“是的，是的，夫人，毫无疑问那就是了。每天你都能在报纸上读到这样的事情。夫人，立刻给警察打电话——立刻——在他们到来之前，否则他们会割断我们的喉咙。”

“别这么激动，艾莉丝。他们不会在下午六点来割断我们的喉咙。”

“夫人，我恳求您，让我现在立刻出去找警察。”

“究竟是为了什么？艾莉丝，别傻了。如果你还没做的话，去楼上为我打包去 Chimneys 的东西。新的凯勒克斯晚礼服，还有白色的摩洛哥缎子，还有——是的，黑色的天鹅绒——黑色的天鹅绒是如此政治化，不是吗？”

“夫人穿着天蓝色缎子看起来迷人极了，”艾莉丝建议道，她的职业本能又重新显现出来。

“不，我不会穿那个。艾莉丝，快点儿，好孩子。我们时间不多。我会给达切特的奇尔弗斯发个电报，我们出去的时候我会跟巡逻的警察说话，让他注意这个地方。别再翻白眼了，艾莉丝——如果你在什么都没发生之前就吓得要命，如果有人从某个黑暗的角落跳出来，用刀刺你，你会怎么办？”

艾莉丝发出尖锐的尖叫，迅速地跑上楼梯，一边跑一边紧张地回头张望。

弗吉尼亚对着她逃跑的背影做了个鬼脸，穿过大厅来到电话所在的那个小书房。艾莉丝提出打电话给警察局的想法在她看来是个好主意，她打算立刻行动。

她打开书房的门，走到电话旁。然后，手握听筒，她停了下来。一个男人坐在大扶手椅上，以一种奇怪的蜷缩姿势坐着。在紧张的时刻，她完全忘记了她的预期访客。显然，他在等待她的时候睡着了。

她直接走到椅子旁，脸上带着一丝顽皮的微笑。然后，突然间，微笑消失了。

那个人并没有睡着。他死了。

她立刻就知道了，甚至在她看到并注意到地板上放着的小手枪、心脏上方的小洞和周围的暗色污渍，以及那可怕的下巴松弛之前，她就本能地知道了。

她站得一动不动，双手按在两侧。在寂静中，她听到了艾莉丝跑下楼梯的声音。

“夫人！夫人！”

“嗯，怎么了？”

她迅速走到门口。她的本能是隐藏所发生的一切——至少暂时不让伊莉丝知道。她知道伊莉丝会立刻歇斯底里，她非常需要平静和安静来思考。

“夫人，如果我把门链拉上，会不会更好？这些恶棍，随时可能到来。”

“是的，如果你愿意。你喜欢怎么做就怎么做。”

她听到门链的碰撞声，然后是伊莉丝再次上楼的声音，她长舒了一口气，感到如释重负。

她看着椅子上的男人，然后又看向电话。她的行动很明确，她必须立刻给警察打电话。

但她并没有这么做。她站得非常稳，被恐惧和脑海中纷乱的思绪所麻痹。那封伪造的电报。这和这件事有关吗？如果伊莉丝没有留下来呢？她会自己开门——也就是说，假设她像往常一样带着钥匙，发现自己独自一人在屋子里，和一个被谋杀的男人在一起——一个她曾经允许勒索她的男人。当然，她有解释；但想到这个解释，她心里并不完全安宁。她记得乔治是如何觉得这太不可信了。其他人会这么想吗？那些信——当然，她没有写过，但证明这一点会那么容易吗？

她用手按住额头，紧紧地挤在一起。

“我必须思考，”弗吉尼亚说，“我必须好好思考。”

是谁让那个人进来的？肯定不是伊莉丝。如果她这么做，她一定会立刻提到这件事。当她思考这件事时，整个事情似乎越来越神秘。实际上只有一个办法——给警察打电话。

她伸手去拿电话，突然她想起了乔治。一个男人——这正是她想要的——一个普通、理智、不感情用事的男人，他会正确地看待事情，并指出她应该采取的最佳行动。

然后她摇了摇头。不是乔治。乔治首先会想到的是他的位置。他会讨厌卷入这种事情。乔治根本不会这么做。

然后她的脸软了下来。比尔，当然是比尔！她立刻给比尔打电话。

她被告知他半小时前已经去往 Chimneys。

“哦，该死！”弗吉尼亚喊道，用力放下听筒。和一具尸体关在一起，又没有人可以说话，真是太可怕了。

就在这时，前门铃响了。

弗吉尼亚跳了起来。几分钟后又响了一次。她知道伊莉丝在上楼打包，听不见。

弗吉尼亚走出大厅，拉开门链，解开了伊莉丝热情地锁上的所有门闩。然后，她深深地吸了一口气，猛地打开门。台阶上站着那个失业的年轻人。

弗吉尼亚因为紧张过度而感到一阵释然，她一头冲了出去。

“请进，”她说，“我想我可能有个工作给你。”

她把他带到餐厅，把他拉到一把椅子前，自己则面对面地坐下，专注地盯着他。

“打扰一下，”她说，“你是——我是说——”

“伊顿公学和牛津大学，”年轻人说，“这就是你想问我的问题，对吧？”

“有点这个意思，”弗吉尼亚承认道。

“完全是因为我无法坚持常规工作而跌落谷底。我希望你给我的不是常规工作？”

她嘴唇上瞬间浮起一丝微笑。

“非常不常规。”

“好，”年轻人带着满意的口吻说。

弗吉尼亚赞赏地观察着他的晒黑的脸庞和修长的身躯。

“你看，”她解释道，“我遇到了一些麻烦，我的大多数朋友——嗯，他们都很上层。他们都有东西要失去。”

“我没什么可失去的。那么，请说吧，出了什么事？”

“隔壁房间里有个死人，”弗吉尼亚说，“他被谋杀了，我不知道该怎么办。”

她像孩子一样简单地脱口而出这些话。他接受她的陈述的方式让她对他评价极高。他可能已经习惯了每天都要听到类似的公告。

“太好了，”他带着一丝热情地说，“我一直想尝试一下业余侦探工作。我们去看看尸体，还是你先告诉我事实？”

“我想我最好先告诉你事实。”她停顿了一下，考虑如何最好地浓缩她的故事，然后开始平静而简洁地讲述。

“这个人昨天第一次来我们家，要求见我。他带着一些信——情书，上面签着我的名字——”

“但不是你写的，”年轻人平静地插话。

弗吉尼亚惊讶地看着他。

“你怎么知道的？”

“哦，我推理出来的。但继续说。”

“他想勒索我——嗯，我不知道你是否能理解，但我——让他得逞了。”

她带着恳求的眼神看着他，他点头以示安慰。

“当然我理解。你想要体验一下这种感觉。”

“你真是太聪明了！这正是我的感觉。”

“我确实很聪明，”年轻人谦逊地说，“但请注意，很少有人能理解这个观点。大多数人，你知道的，都没有想象力。”

“我想是这样的。我告诉这个人今天回来——六点钟。我从雷恩利回家，发现所有仆人（除了我的女仆）都被一封伪造的电报叫走了。然后我走进书房，发现那个人被枪杀了。”

“是谁让他进来的？”

“我不知道。我想如果我的女仆这么做，她会告诉我的。”

“她知道发生了什么事？”

“我什么都没告诉她。”

年轻人点头，站起来。

“And now to view the body, ” he said briskly. “But I’ll tell you this—on the whole it’s always best to tell the truth. One lie involves you in such a lot of lies—and continuous lying is so monotonous.”

“Then you advise me to ring up the police? ”

“Probably. But we’ll just have a look at the fellow first.”

Virginia led the way out the room. On the threshold she paused, looking back at him.

“By the way, ” she said, “you haven’t told me your name yet? ”

“My name? My name’s Anthony Cade.”

Anthony Disposes of a Body

Anthony followed Virginia out of the room, smiling a little to himself. Events had taken quite an unexpected turn. But as he bent over the figure in the chair he grew grave again.

“He’s still warm, ” he said sharply. “He was killed less than half an hour ago.”

“Just before I came in? ”

“Exactly.”

He stood upright, drawing his brows together in a frown. Then he asked a question of which Virginia did not at once see the drift:

“Your maid’s not been in this room, of course? ”

“No.”

“Does she know that you’ve been into it? ”

“Why—yes. I came to the door to speak to her.”

“After you’d found the body.”

“Yes.”

“And you said nothing? ”

“Would it have been better if I had? I thought she would go into hysterics—she’s French, you know, and easily upset—I wanted to think over the best thing to do.”

Anthony nodded, but did not speak.

“You think it a pity, I can see? ”

“Well, it was rather unfortunate, Mrs. Revel. If you and the maid had discovered the body together, immediately on your return, it would have simplified matters very much. The man would then definitely have been shot _before_ your return to the house.”

“Whilst now they might say he was shot _after_—I see—”

He watched her taking in the idea, and was confirmed in his first impression of her formed when she had spoken to him on the steps outside. Besides beauty, she possessed courage and brains.

Virginia was so engrossed in the puzzle presented to her that it did not occur to her to wonder at this strange man’s ready use of her name.

“Why didn’t Élise hear the shot, I wonder? ” she murmured.

Anthony pointed to the open window, as a loud backfire came from a passing car.

“There you are. London’s not the place to notice a pistol shot.”

Virginia turned with a little shudder to the body in the chair.

“He looks like an Italian, ” she remarked curiously.

“He is an Italian, ” said Anthony. “I should say that his regular profession was that of a waiter. He only did blackmailing in his spare time. His name might very possibly be Giuseppe.”

“Good heavens! ” cried Virginia. “Is this Sherlock Holmes? ”

“No, ” said Anthony regretfully. “I’m afraid it’s just plain or garden cheating. I’ll tell you all about it presently. Now you say this man showed you some letters and asked you for money. Did you give him any? ”

“Yes, I did.”

“How much? ”

“Forty pounds.”

“That’s bad, ” said Anthony, but without manifesting any undue surprise. “Now let’s have a look at the telegram.”

Virginia picked it up from the table and gave it to him. She saw his face grow grave as he looked at it.

“What’s the matter? ”

He held it out, pointing silently to the place of origin.

“Barnes, ” he said. “And you were at Ranelagh this afternoon. What’s to prevent you having sent it off yourself? ”

Virginia felt fascinated by his words. It was as though a net was closing tighter and tighter round her. He was forcing her to see all the things which she had felt dimly at the back of her mind.

Anthony took out his handkerchief and wound it round his hand, then he picked up the pistol.

“We criminals have to be so careful, ” he said apologetically. “Fingerprints, you know.”

Suddenly she saw his whole figure stiffen. His voice, when he spoke, had altered. It was terse and curt.

“Mrs. Revel, ” he said, “have you ever seen this pistol before? ”

“No, ” said Virginia wonderingly.

“Are you sure of that? ”

“Quite sure.”

“Have you a pistol of your own? ”

“No.”

“Have you ever had one? ”

“No, never.”

“You are sure of that? ”

“Quite sure.”

He stared at her steadily for a minute, and Virginia stared back in complete surprise at his tone.

Then, with a sigh, he relaxed.

“That’s odd, ” he said. “How do you account for this? ”

He held out the pistol. It was a small, dainty article, almost a toy—though capable of doing deadly work. Engraved on it was the name Virginia.

“Oh, it’s impossible! ” cried Virginia.

Her astonishment was so genuine that Anthony could but believe in it.

“Sit down, ” he said quietly. “There’s more in this than there seemed to be first go off. To begin with, what’s our hypothesis? There are only two possible ones. There is, of course, the real Virginia of the letters. She may have somehow or other tracked him down, shot him, dropped the pistol, stolen the letters, and taken herself off. That’s quite possible, isn’t it? ”

“I suppose so, ” said Virginia unwillingly.

“The other hypothesis is a good deal more interesting. Whoever wished to kill Giuseppe, wished also to incriminate you—in fact that may have been their main object. They could get _him_ easily enough anywhere, but they took extraordinary pains and trouble to get him _here_, and whoever they were they knew all about you, your cottage at Datchet, your usual household arrangements, and the fact that you were at Ranelagh this afternoon. It seems an absurd question, but have you any enemies, Mrs. Revel? ”

“Of course I haven’t—not that kind, anyway.”

“The question is, ” said Anthony, “what are we going to do now? There are two courses open to us. A: Ring up the police, tell the whole story, and trust to your unassailable position in the world and your hitherto blameless life. B: An attempt on my part to dispose successfully of the body. Naturally my private inclinations urge me to B. I’ve always wanted to see if I couldn’t conceal a crime with the necessary cunning, but have had a squeamish objection to shedding blood. On the whole, I expect A’s the soundest. Then there’s a sort of bowdlerized A. Ring up the police, etc., but suppress the pistol and the blackmailing letters—that is, if they are on him still.”

Anthony ran rapidly through the dead man’s pockets.

“He’s been stripped clean, ” he announced. “There’s not a thing on him. There’ll be dirty work at the crossroads over those letters yet. Hullo, what’s this? Hole in the lining—something got caught there, torn roughly out, and a scrap of paper left behind.”

He drew out the scrap of paper as he spoke, and brought it over to the light. Virginia joined him.

“Pity we haven’t got the rest of it, ” he muttered. “_Chimneys 11.45 Thursday_—Sounds like an appointment.”

“Chimneys? ” cried Virginia. “How extraordinary! ”

“Why extraordinary? Rather high toned for such a low fellow? ”

“I’m going to Chimneys this evening. At least I was.”

Anthony wheeled round on her.

“What’s that? Say that again.”

“I was going to Chimneys this evening, ” repeated Virginia.

Anthony stared at her.

“I begin to see. At least, I may be wrong—but it’s an idea. Suppose some one wanted badly to prevent your going to Chimneys? ”

“My cousin George Lomax does, ” said Virginia with a smile. “But I can’t seriously suspect George of murder.”

Anthony did not smile. He was lost in thought.

“If you ring up the police, it’s good-bye to any idea of getting to Chimneys to-day—or even to-morrow. And I should like you to go to Chimneys. I fancy it will disconcert our unknown friends. Mrs. Revel, will you put yourself in my hands? ”

“It’s to be Plan B, then? ”

“It’s to be Plan B. The first thing is to get that maid of yours out of the house. Can you manage that? ”

“Easily.”

Virginia went out in the hall and called up the stairs.

“Élise. Élise.”

“Madame? ”

Anthony heard a rapid colloquy, and then the front door opened and shut. Virginia came back into the room.

“She’s gone. I sent her for some special scent—told her the shop in question was open until eight. It won’t be, of course. She’s to follow after me by the next train without coming back here.”

“Good, ” said Anthony approvingly. “We can now proceed to the disposal of the body. It’s a time-worn method, but I’m afraid I shall have to ask you if there’s such a thing in the house as a trunk? ”

“Of course there is. Come down to the basement and take your choice.”

There was a variety of trunks in the basement. Anthony selected a solid affair of suitable size.

“I’ll attend to this part of it, ” he said tactfully. “You go upstairs and get ready to start.”

Virginia obeyed. She slipped out of her tennis kit, put on a soft brown travelling dress and a delightful little orange hat, and came down to find Anthony waiting in the hall with a neatly strapped trunk beside him.

“I should like to tell you the story of my life, ” he remarked, “but it’s going to be rather a busy evening. Now this is what you’ve got to do. Call a taxi, have your luggage put on it, including the trunk. Drive to Paddington. There have the trunk put in the Left Luggage Office. I shall be on the platform. As you pass me, drop the Cloak Room ticket. I will pick it up and pretend to return it to you, but in reality I shall keep it. Go on to Chimneys, and leave the rest to me.”

“It’s awfully good of you, ” said Virginia. “It’s really dreadful of me saddling a perfect stranger with a dead body like this.”

“I like it, ” returned Anthony nonchalantly. “If one of my friends, Jimmy McGrath, were here, he’d tell you that anything of this kind suits me down to the ground.”

Virginia was staring at him.

“What name did you say? Jimmy McGrath? ”

Anthony returned her glance keenly.

“Yes. Why? Have you heard of him? ”

“Yes—and quite lately.” She paused irresolutely, and then went on. “Mr. Cade, I must talk to you. Can’t you come down to Chimneys? ”

“You’ll see me before very long, Mrs. Revel—I’ll tell you that. Now, exit Conspirator A by back door slinkingly. Exit Conspirator B in blaze of glory by front door to taxi.”

The plan went through without a hitch. Anthony, having picked up a second taxi, was on the platform and duly retrieved the fallen ticket. He then departed in search of a somewhat battered second-hand Morris Cowley which he had acquired earlier in the day in case it should be necessary to his plans.

Returning to Paddington in this, he handed the ticket to the porter, who got the trunk out of the cloak room and wedged it securely at the back of the car. Anthony drove off.

His objective now was out of London. Through Notting Hill, Shepherd’s Bush, down Goldhawk Road, through Brentford and Hounslow till he came to the long stretch of road mid-way between Hounslow and Staines. It was a well-frequented road, with motors passing continually. No footmarks or tyre marks were likely to show. Anthony stopped the car at a certain spot. Getting down, he first obscured the number-plate with mud. Then, waiting until he heard no car coming in either direction, he opened the trunk, heaved out Giuseppe’s body, and laid it neatly down by the side of the road, on the inside of a curve, so that the headlights of passing motors would not strike on it.

Then he entered the car again and drove away. The whole business had occupied exactly one minute and a half. He made a détour to the right, returning to London by way of Burnham Beeches. There again he halted the car, and choosing a giant of the forest he deliberately climbed the huge tree. It was something of a feat, even for Anthony. To one of the topmost branches, he affixed a small brown-paper parcel, concealing it in a little niche close to the bole.

“A very clever way of disposing of the pistol, ” said Anthony to himself with some approval. “Everybody hunts about on the ground, and drags ponds. But there are very few people in England who could climb that tree.”

Next, back to London and Paddington Station. Here he left the trunk—at the other cloak room this time, the one on the Arrival side. He thought longingly of such things as good rumpsteaks, juicy chops, and large masses of fried potatoes. But he shook his head ruefully, glancing at his wrist watch. He fed the Morris with a fresh supply of petrol, and then took the road once more. North this time.

It was just after half-past eleven that he brought the car to rest in the road adjoining the park of Chimneys. Jumping out he scaled the wall easily enough, and set out towards the house. It took him longer than he thought, and presently he broke into a run. A great grey mass loomed up out of the darkness—the venerable pile of Chimneys. In the distance a stable clock chimed the three quarters.

11.45—the time mentioned on the scrap of paper. Anthony was on the terrace now, looking up at the house. Everything seemed dark and quiet.

“They go to bed early, these politicians, ” he murmured to himself.

And suddenly a sound smote upon his ears—the sound of a shot. Anthony spun round quickly. The sound had come from within the house—he was sure of that. He waited a minute, but everything was still as death. Finally he went up to one of the long French windows from where he judged the sound that had startled him had come. He tried the handle. It was locked. He tried some of the other windows, listening intently all the while. But the silence remained unbroken.

In the end he told himself that he must have imagined the sound, or perhaps mistaken a stray shot coming from a poacher in the woods. He turned and retraced his steps across the park, vaguely dissatisfied and uneasy.

He looked back at the house, and whilst he looked a light sprang up in one of the windows on the first floor. In another minute it went out again, and the whole place was in darkness once more.

Chimneys

Inspector Badgworthy in his office. Time, 8.30 A.M. A tall portly man, Inspector Badgworthy, with a heavy regulation tread. Inclined to breathe hard in moments of professional strain. In attendance Constable Johnson, very new to the Force, with a downy unfledged look about him, like a human chicken.

The telephone on the table rang sharply, and the inspector took it up with his usual portentous gravity of action.

“Yes. Police station Market Basing. Inspector Badgworthy speaking. What? ”

Slight alteration in the inspector’s manner. As he is greater than Johnson, so others are greater than Inspector Badgworthy.

“Speaking, my lord. I beg your pardon, my lord? I didn’t quite hear what you said? ”

Long pause, during which the inspector listens, quite a variety of expressions passing over his usually impassive countenance. Finally he lays down the receiver, after a brief “At once, my lord.”

He turned to Johnson, seeming visibly swelled with importance.

“From his lordship—at Chimneys—Murder.”

“Murder, ” echoed Johnson, suitably impressed.

“Murder it is, ” said the inspector, with great satisfaction.

“Why, there’s never been a murder here—not that I’ve ever heard of—except the time that Tom Pearse shot his sweetheart.”

“And that, in a manner of speaking, wasn’t murder at all, but drink, ” said the inspector, deprecatingly.

“He weren’t hanged for it, ” agreed Johnson gloomily. “But this is the real thing, is it, sir? ”

“It is, Johnson. One of his lordship’s guests, a foreign gentleman, discovered shot. Open window, and footprints outside.”

“I’m sorry it were a foreigner, ” said Johnson, with some regret.

It made the murder seem less real. Foreigners, Johnson felt, were liable to be shot.

“His lordship’s in a rare taking, ” continued the inspector. “We’ll get hold of Dr. Cartwright and take him up with us right away. I hope to goodness no one will get messing with those footprints.”

Badgworthy was in a seventh heaven. A murder! At Chimneys! Inspector Badgworthy in charge of the case. The police have a clue. Sensational arrest. Promotion and kudos for the aforementioned inspector.

“That is, ” said Inspector Badgworthy to himself, “if Scotland Yard doesn’t come butting in.”

The thought damped him momentarily. It seemed so extremely likely to happen under the circumstances.

They stopped at Dr. Cartwright’s, and the doctor, who was a comparatively young man, displayed a keen interest. His attitude was almost exactly that of Johnson.

“Why, bless my soul, ” he exclaimed. “We haven’t had a murder here since the time of Tom Pearse.”

All three of them got into the doctor’s little car, and started off briskly for Chimneys. As they passed the local inn, _The Jolly Cricketers_, the doctor noticed a man standing in the doorway.

“Stranger, ” he remarked. “Rather a nice-looking fellow. Wonder how long he’s been here, and what he’s doing staying at the _Cricketers_? I haven’t seen him about at all. He must have arrived last night.”

“He didn’t come by train, ” said Johnson.

Johnson’s brother was the local railway porter, and Johnson was therefore always well up in arrivals and departures.

“Who was there for Chimneys yesterday? ” asked the inspector.

“Lady Eileen, she come down by the 3.40, and two gentlemen with her, an American gent, and a young Army chap—neither of them with valets. His lordship come down with a foreign gentleman, the one that’s been shot as likely as not, by the 5.40, and the foreign gentleman’s valet. Mr. Eversleigh come by the same train. Mrs. Revel came by the 7.25, and another foreign-looking gentleman came by it too, one with a bald head and a hook nose. Mrs. Revel’s maid came by the 8.56.”

Johnson paused, out of breath.

“And there was no one for the _Cricketers_? ”

Johnson shook his head.

“He must have come by car then, ” said the inspector. “Johnson, make a note to institute inquiries at the _Cricketers_ on your way back. We want to know all about any strangers. He was very sunburnt, that gentleman. Likely as not, he’s come from foreign parts too.”

The inspector nodded his head with great sagacity, as though to imply that that was the sort of wide-awake man he was—not to be caught napping under any consideration.

The car passed in through the Park gates of Chimneys. Descriptions of that historic place can be found in any guide book. It is also No. 3 in _Historic Homes of England_, price 21s. On Thursdays, chars-à-bancs come over from Middlingham and view those portions of it which are open to the public. In view of all these facilities, to describe Chimneys would be superfluous.

They were received at the door by a white-headed butler whose demeanour was perfect.

“We are not accustomed, ” it seemed to say, “to having murder committed within these walls. But these are evil days. Let us meet disaster with perfect calm, and pretend with our dying breath that nothing out of the usual has occurred.”

“His lordship, ” said the butler, “is expecting you. This way, if you please.”

He led them to a small cosy room which was Lord Caterham’s refuge from the magnificence elsewhere, and announced them.

“The police, my lord, and Dr. Cartwright.”

Lord Caterham was pacing up and down in a visibly agitated state.

“Ha! inspector, you’ve turned up at last. I’m thankful for that. How are you, Cartwright? This is the very devil of a business, you know. The very devil of a business.”

And Lord Caterham, running his hands through his hair in a frenzied fashion until it stood upright in little tufts, looked even less like a peer of the realm than usual.

“Where’s the body? ” asked the doctor, in curt business-like fashion.

Lord Caterham turned to him as though relieved at being asked a direct question.

“In the council chamber—just where it was found—I wouldn’t have it touched. I believed—er—that that was the correct thing to do.”

“Quite right, my lord, ” said the inspector approvingly.

He produced a notebook and pencil.

“And who discovered the body? Did you? ”

“Good Lord, no, ” said Lord Caterham. “You don’t think I usually get up at this unearthly hour in the morning, do you? No, a housemaid found it. She screamed a good deal, I believe. I didn’t hear her myself. Then they came to me about it, and of course I got up and came down—and there it was, you know.”

“You recognized the body as that of one of your guests? ”

“That’s right, inspector.”

“By name? ”

This perfectly simple question seemed to upset Lord Caterham. He opened his mouth once or twice, and then shut it again. Finally he asked feebly.

“Do you mean—do you mean—what was his name? ”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Well, ” said Lord Caterham, looking slowly round the room, as though hoping to gain inspiration. “His name was—I should say it was—yes, decidedly so—Count Stanislaus.”

There was something so odd about Lord Caterham’s manner, that the inspector ceased using his pencil and stared at him instead. But at that moment a diversion occurred which seemed highly welcome to the embarrassed peer.

The door opened and a girl came into the room. She was tall, slim and dark, with an attractive boyish face, and a very determined manner. This was Lady Eileen Brent, commonly known as Bundle, Lord Caterham’s eldest daughter. She nodded to the others, and addressed her father directly.

“I’ve got him, ” she announced.

For a moment the inspector was on the point of starting forward under the impression that the young lady had captured the murderer red-handed, but almost immediately he realized that her meaning was quite different.

Lord Caterham uttered a sigh of relief.

“That’s a good job. What did he say? ”

“He’s coming over at once. We are to ‘use the utmost discretion.’”

Her father made a sound of annoyance.

“That’s just the sort of idiotic thing George Lomax would say. However, once he comes, I shall wash my hands of the whole affair.”

He appeared to cheer up a little at the prospect.

“And the name of the murdered man was Count Stanislaus? ” queried the doctor.

A lightning glance passed between father and daughter, and then the former said with some dignity:

“Certainly. I said so just now.”

“I asked because you didn’t seem quite sure about it before, ” explained Cartwright.

There was a faint twinkle in his eye, and Lord Caterham looked at him reproachfully.

“I’ll take you to the Council Chamber, ” he said more briskly.

They followed him, the inspector bringing up the rear, and darting sharp glances all around him as he went, much as though he expected to find a clue in a picture frame, or behind a door.

Lord Caterham took a key from his pocket and unlocked a door, flinging it open. They all passed into a big room panelled in oak, with three long windows giving on the terrace. There was a long refectory table and a good many oak chests, and some beautiful old chairs. On the walls were various paintings of dead and gone Caterhams and others.

Near the left-hand wall, about half-way between the door and the window, a man was lying on his back, his arms flung wide.

Dr. Cartwright went over and knelt down by the body. The inspector strode across to the windows, and examined them in turn. The centre one was closed, but not fastened. On the steps outside were footprints leading up to the window, and a second set going away again.

“Clear enough, ” said the inspector, with a nod. “But there ought to be footprints on the inside as well. They’d show up plain on this parquet floor.”

“I think I can explain that, ” interposed Bundle. “The housemaid had polished half the floor this morning before she saw the body. You see, it was dark when she came in here. She went straight across to the windows, drew the curtains, and began on the floor, and naturally didn’t see the body which is hidden from that side of the room by the table. She didn’t see it until she came right on top of it.”

The inspector nodded.

“Well, ” said Lord Caterham, eager to escape. “I’ll leave you here, inspector. You’ll be able to find me if you—er—want me. But Mr. George Lomax is coming over from Wyverne Abbey shortly, and he’ll be able to tell you far more than I could. It’s his business really. I can’t explain, but he will when he comes.”

Lord Caterham beat a precipitate retreat without waiting for a reply.

“Too bad for Lomax, ” he complained. “Letting me in for this. What’s the matter, Tredwell? ”

The white-haired butler was hovering deferentially at his elbow.

“I have taken the liberty, my lord, of advancing the breakfast hour as far as you are concerned. Everything is ready in the dining-room.”

“I don’t suppose for a minute I can eat anything, ” said Lord Caterham gloomily, turning his footsteps in that direction. “Not for a moment.”

Bundle slipped her hand through his arm, and they entered the dining-room together. On the sideboard were half a score of heavy silver dishes, ingeniously kept hot by patent arrangements.

“Omelet, ” said Lord Caterham, lifting each lid in turn. “Eggs and bacon, kidneys, devilled bird, haddock, cold ham, cold pheasant. I don’t like any of these things, Tredwell, ask the cook to poach me an egg, will you? ”

“Very good, my lord.”

Tredwell withdrew. Lord Caterham, in an absent-minded fashion, helped himself plentifully to kidneys and bacon, poured himself out a cup of coffee, and sat down at the long table. Bundle was already busy with a plateful of eggs and bacon.

“I’m damned hungry, ” said Bundle with her mouth full. “It must be the excitement.”

“It’s all very well for you, ” complained her father. “You young people like excitement. But I’m in a very delicate state of health. Avoid all worry, that’s what Sir Abner Willis said—avoid all worry. So easy for a man sitting in his consulting-room in Harley Street to say that. How can I avoid worry when that ass Lomax lands me with a thing like this? I ought to have been firm at the time. I ought to have put my foot down.”

With a sad shake of the head, Lord Caterham rose and carved himself a plate of ham.

“Codders has certainly done it this time, ” observed Bundle cheerfully. “He was almost incoherent over the telephone. He’ll be here in a minute or two, spluttering nineteen to the dozen about discretion and hushing it up.”

Lord Caterham groaned at the prospect.

“Was he up? ” he asked.

“He told me, ” replied Bundle, “that he had been up and dictating letters and memoranda ever since seven o’clock.”

“Proud of it, too, ” remarked her father. “Extraordinarily selfish, these public men. They make their wretched secretaries get up at the most unearthly hours in order to dictate rubbish to them. If a law was passed compelling them to stop in bed until eleven, what a benefit it would be to the nation! I wouldn’t mind so much if they didn’t talk such balderdash. Lomax is always talking to me of my ‘position.’ As if I had any. Who wants to be a peer nowadays? ”

“Nobody, ” said Bundle. “They’d much rather keep a prosperous public house.”

Tredwell reappeared silently with two poached eggs in a little silver dish which he placed on the table in front of Lord Caterham.

“What’s that, Tredwell? ” said the latter, looking at them with faint distaste.

“Poached eggs, my lord.”

“I hate poached eggs, ” said Lord Caterham peevishly. “They’re so insipid. I don’t like to look at them even. Take them away, will you, Tredwell? ”

“Very good, my lord.”

Tredwell and the poached eggs withdrew as silently as they came.

“Thank God no one gets up early in this house, ” remarked Lord Caterham devoutly. “We shall have to break this to them when they do, I suppose.”

He sighed.

“I wonder who murdered him, ” said Bundle. “And why? ”

“That’s not our business, thank goodness, ” said Lord Caterham. “That’s for the police to find out. Not that Badgworthy will ever find out anything. On the whole I rather hope it was Nosystein.”

“Meaning——”

“The All British Syndicate.”

“Why should Mr. Isaacstein murder him when he’d come down here on purpose to meet him? ”

“High finance, ” said Lord Caterham vaguely. “And that reminds me, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if Isaacstein wasn’t an early riser. He may blow in upon us at any minute. It’s a habit in the city. I believe that, however rich you are, you always catch the 9.17.”

The sound of a motor being driven at great speed was heard through the open window.

“Codders, ” cried Bundle.

Father and daughter leaned out of the window and hailed the occupant of the car as it drew up before the entrance.

“In here, my dear fellow, in here, ” cried Lord Caterham, hastily swallowing his mouthful of ham.

George had no intention of climbing in through the window. He disappeared through the front door, and reappeared ushered in by Tredwell, who withdrew at once.

“Have some breakfast, ” said Lord Caterham, shaking him by the hand. “What about a kidney? ”

George waved the kidney aside impatiently.

“This is a terrible calamity, terrible, terrible.”

“It is indeed. Some haddock? ”

“No, no. It must be hushed up—at all costs it must be hushed up.”

As Bundle had prophesied, George began to splutter.

“I understand your feelings, ” said Lord Caterham sympathetically. “Try an egg and bacon, or some haddock.”

“A totally unforeseen contingency—national calamity—concessions jeopardized——”

“Take time, ” said Lord Caterham. “And take some food. What you need is some food, to pull you together. Poached eggs now? There were some poached eggs here a minute or two ago.”

“I don’t want any food, ” said George. “I’ve had breakfast, and even if I hadn’t had any I shouldn’t want it. We must think what is to be done. You have told no one as yet? ”

“Well, there’s Bundle and myself. And the local police. And Cartwright. And all the servants of course.”

George groaned.

“Pull yourself together, my dear fellow, ” said Lord Caterham kindly. “(I wish you’d have some breakfast.) You don’t seem to realize that you can’t hush up a dead body. It’s got be buried and all that sort of thing. Very unfortunate, but there it is.”

George became suddenly calm.

“You are right, Caterham. You have called in the local police, you say? That will not do. We must have Battle.”

“Battle, murder and sudden death, ” inquired Lord Caterham, with a puzzled face.

“No, no, you misunderstand me. I referred to Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard. A man of the utmost discretion. He worked with us in that deplorable business of the Party Funds.”

“What was that? ” asked Lord Caterham, with some interest.

But George’s eye had fallen upon Bundle, as she sat half in and half out of the window, and he remembered discretion just in time. He rose.

“We must waste no time. I must send off some wires at once.”

“If you write them out, Bundle will send them through the telephone.”

George pulled out a fountain pen and began to write with incredible rapidity. He handed the first one to Bundle, who read it with a great deal of interest.

“God! what a name, ” she remarked. “Baron How Much? ”

“Baron Lolopretjzyl.”

Bundle blinked.

“I’ve got it, but it will take some conveying to the post office.”

George continued to write. Then he handed his labours to Bundle and addressed the master of the house:

“The best thing that you can do, Caterham——”

“Yes, ” said Lord Caterham apprehensively.

“Is to leave everything in my hands.”

“Certainly, ” said Lord Caterham, with alacrity. “Just what I was thinking myself. You’ll find the police and Dr. Cartwright in the Council Chamber. With the—er—with the body, you know. My dear Lomax, I place Chimneys unreservedly at your disposal. Do anything you like.”

“Thank you, ” said George. “If I should want to consult you——”

But Lord Caterham had faded unobtrusively through the farther door. Bundle had observed his retreat with a grim smile.

“I’ll send off those telegrams at once, ” she said. “You know your way to the Council Chamber? ”

“Thank you, Lady Eileen.”

George hurried from the room.

Superintendent Battle Arrives

So apprehensive was Lord Caterham of being consulted by George that he spent the whole morning making a tour of his estate. Only the pangs of hunger drew him homeward. He also reflected that by now the worst would surely be over.

He sneaked into the house quietly by a small side door. From there he slipped neatly into his sanctum. He flattered himself that his entrance had not been observed, but there he was mistaken. The watchful Tredwell let nothing escape him. He presented himself at the door.

“You’ll excuse me, my lord——”

“What is it, Tredwell? ”

“Mr. Lomax, my lord, is anxious to see you in the library as soon as you return.”

By this delicate method Tredwell conveyed that Lord Caterham had not yet returned unless he chose to say so.

Lord Caterham sighed, and then rose.

“I suppose it will have to be done sooner or later. In the library, you say? ”

“Yes, my lord.”

Sighing again, Lord Caterham crossed the wide spaces of his ancestral home, and reached the library door. The door was locked. As he rattled the handle, it was unlocked from inside, opened a little way, and the face of George Lomax appeared, peering out suspiciously.

His face changed when he saw who it was.

“Ah, Caterham, come in. We were just wondering what had become of you.”

Murmuring something vague about duties on the estate, repairs for tenants, Lord Caterham sidled in apologetically. There were two other men in the room. One was Colonel Melrose, the Chief Constable. The other was a squarely built middle-aged man with a face so singularly devoid of expression as to be quite remarkable.

“Superintendent Battle arrived half an hour ago, ” explained George. “He has been round with Inspector Badgworthy, and seen Dr. Cartwright. He now wants a few facts from us.”

They all sat down, after Lord Caterham had greeted Melrose and acknowledged his introduction to Superintendent Battle.

“I need hardly tell you, Battle, ” said George, “that this is a case in which we must use the utmost discretion.”

The superintendent nodded in an offhand manner that rather took Lord Caterham’s fancy.

“That will be all right, Mr. Lomax. But no concealments from us. I understand that the dead gentleman was called Count Stanislaus—at least, that that is the name by which the household knew him. Now was that his real name? ”

“It was not.”

“What was his real name? ”

“Prince Michael of Herzoslovakia.”

Battle’s eyes opened just a trifle, otherwise he gave no sign.

“And what, if I may ask the question, was the purpose of his visit here? Just pleasure? ”

“There was a further object, Battle. All this in the strictest confidence of course.”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Lomax.”

“Colonel Melrose? ”

“Of course.”

“Well, then, Prince Michael was here for the express purpose of meeting Mr. Herman Isaacstein. A loan was to be arranged on certain terms.”

“Which were? ”

“I do not know the exact details. Indeed, they had not yet been arranged. But in the event of coming to the throne, Prince Michael pledged himself to grant certain oil concessions to those companies in which Mr. Isaacstein is interested. The British Government was prepared to support the claim of Prince Michael to the throne in view of his pronounced British sympathies.”

“Well, ” said Superintendent Battle, “I don’t suppose I need go further into it than that. Prince Michael wanted the money, Mr. Isaacstein wanted oil, and the British Government was ready to do the heavy father. Just one question. Was anyone else after those concessions? ”

“I believe an American group of financiers had made overtures to His Highness.”

“And been turned down, eh? ”

But George refused to be drawn.

“Prince Michael’s sympathies were entirely pro-British, ” he repeated.

Superintendent Battle did not press the point.

“Lord Caterham, I understand that this is what occurred yesterday. You met Prince Michael in town and journeyed down here in company with him. The Prince was accompanied by his valet, a Herzoslovakian named Boris Anchoukoff, but his equerry, Captain Andrassy, remained in town. The Prince, on arriving, declared himself greatly fatigued, and retired to the apartments set aside for him. Dinner was served to him there, and he did not meet the other members of the house party. Is that correct? ”

“Quite correct.”

“This morning a housemaid discovered the body at approximately 7.45 A.M. Dr. Cartwright examined the dead man and found that death was the result of a bullet fired from a revolver. No revolver was found, and no one in the house seems to have heard the shot. On the other hand the dead man’s wrist watch was smashed by the fall, and marks the crime as having been committed at exactly a quarter to twelve. Now what time did you retire to bed last night? ”

“We went early. Somehow or other the party didn’t seem to ‘go’ if you know what I mean, superintendent. We went up about half-past ten, I should say.”

“Thank you. Now I will ask you, Lord Caterham, to give me a description of all the people staying in the house.”

“But, excuse me, I thought the fellow who did it came from outside? ”

Superintendent Battle smiled.

“I dare say he did. I dare say he did. But all the same I’ve got to know who was in the house. Matter of routine, you know.”

“Well, there was Prince Michael and his valet and Mr. Herman Isaacstein. You know all about them. Then there was Mr. Eversleigh——”

“Who works in my department, ” put in George condescendingly.

“And who was acquainted with the real reason of Prince Michael’s being here? ”

“No, I should not say that, ” replied George weightily. “Doubtless he realized that something was in the wind, but I did not think it necessary to take him fully into my confidence.”

“I see. Will you go on, Lord Caterham? ”

“Let me see, there was Mr. Hiram Fish.”

“Who is Mr. Hiram Fish? ”

“Mr. Fish is an American. He brought over a letter of introduction from Mr. Lucius Gott—you’ve heard of Lucius Gott? ”

Superintendent Battle smiled acknowledgment. Who had not heard of Lucius C. Gott, the multi-millionaire?

“He was specially anxious to see my first editions. Mr. Gott’s collection is, of course, unequalled, but I’ve got several treasures myself. This Mr. Fish was an enthusiast. Mr. Lomax had suggested that I ask one or two extra people down here this week-end to make things seem more natural, so I took the opportunity of asking Mr. Fish. That finishes the men. As for the ladies, there is only Mrs. Revel—and I expect she brought a maid or something like that. Then there was my daughter, and of course the children and their nurses and governesses and all the servants.”

Lord Caterham paused and took a breath.

“Thank you, ” said the detective. “A mere matter of routine, but necessary as such.”

“There is no doubt, I suppose, ” asked George ponderously, “that the murderer entered by the window? ”

Battle paused for a minute before replying slowly.

“There were footsteps leading up to the window, and footsteps leading away from it. A car stopped outside the park at 11.40 last night. At twelve o’clock a young man arrived at the _Jolly Cricketers_ in a car, and engaged a room. He put his boots outside to be cleaned—they were very wet and muddy, as though he had been walking through the long grass in the park.”

George leant forward eagerly.

“Could not the boots be compared with the footprints? ”

“They were.”

“Well? ”

“They exactly correspond.”

“That settles it, ” cried George. “We have the murderer. The young man—what is his name, by the way? ”

“At the inn he gave the name of Anthony Cade.”

“This Anthony Cade must be pursued at once, and arrested.”

“You won’t need to pursue him, ” said Superintendent Battle.

“Why? ”

“Because he’s still there.”

“What? ”

“Curious, isn’t it? ”

Colonel Melrose eyed him keenly.

“What’s in your mind, Battle? Out with it.”

“I just say it’s curious, that’s all. Here’s a young man who ought to cut and run, but he doesn’t cut and run. He stays here, and gives us every facility for comparing footmarks.”

“What do you think, then? ”

“I don’t know what to think. And that’s a very disturbing state of mind.”

“Do you imagine——” began Colonel Melrose, but broke off as a discreet knock came at the door.

George rose and went to it. Tredwell, inwardly suffering from having to knock at doors in this low fashion, stood dignified upon the threshold, and addressed his master.

“Excuse me, my lord, but a gentleman wishes to see you on urgent and important business, connected, I understand, with this morning’s tragedy.”

“What’s his name? ” asked Battle suddenly.

“His name, sir, is Mr. Anthony Cade, but he said it wouldn’t convey anything to anybody.”

It seemed to convey something to the four men present. They all sat up in varying degrees of astonishment.

Lord Caterham began to chuckle.

“I’m really beginning to enjoy myself. Show him in, Tredwell. Show him in at once.”

Anthony Tells His Story

“Mr. Anthony Cade, ” announced Tredwell.

“Enter suspicious stranger from village inn, ” said Anthony.

He made his way toward Lord Caterham with a kind of instinct rare in strangers. At the same time he summed up the other three men in his own mind thus: “1, Scotland Yard. 2, Local dignitary—probably chief constable. 3, Harassed gentleman on the verge of apoplexy—possibly connected with the Government.”

“I must apologize, ” continued Anthony, still addressing Lord Caterham. “For forcing my way in like this, I mean. But it was rumoured round the _Jolly Dog_, or whatever the name of your local pub may be, that you had had a murder up here, and as I thought I might be able to throw some light upon it I came along.”

For a moment or two, no one spoke. Superintendent Battle because he was a man of ripe experience who knew how infinitely better it was to let every one else speak if they could be persuaded upon to do so, Colonel Melrose because he was habitually taciturn, George because he was in the habit of having notice given him of the question, Lord Caterham because he had not the least idea of what to say. The silence of the other three, however, and the fact that he had been directly addressed, finally forced speech upon the last named.

“Er—quite so—quite so, ” he said nervously. “Won’t—you—er—sit down? ”

“Thank you, ” said Anthony.

George cleared his throat portentously.

“Er—when you say you can throw light upon this matter, you mean——? ”

“I mean, ” said Anthony, “that I was trespassing upon Lord Caterham’s property (for which I hope he will forgive me) last night at about 11.45, and that I actually heard the shot fired. I can at any rate fix the time of the crime for you.”

He looked round at the three in turn, his eyes resting longest on Superintendent Battle, the impassivity of whose face he seemed to appreciate.

“But I hardly think that that’s news to you, ” he added gently.

“Meaning by that, Mr. Cade? ” asked Battle.

“Just this. I put on shoes when I got up this morning. Later, when I asked for my boots, I couldn’t have them. Some nice young constable had called round for them. So I naturally put two and two together, and hurried up here to clear my character if possible.”

“A very sensible move, ” said Battle non-committally.

Anthony’s eyes twinkled a little.

“I appreciate your reticence, inspector. It is inspector, isn’t it? ”

Lord Caterham interposed. He was beginning to take a fancy to Anthony.

“Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard. This is Colonel Melrose, our Chief Constable, and Mr. Lomax.”

Anthony looked sharply at George.

“Mr. George Lomax? ”

“Yes.”

“I think, Mr. Lomax, ” said Anthony, “that I had the pleasure of receiving a letter from you yesterday.”

George stared at him.

“I think not, ” he said coldly.

But he wished that Miss Oscar were here. Miss Oscar wrote all his letters for him, and remembered who they were to and what they were about. A great man like George could not possibly remember all these annoying details.

“I think, Mr. Cade, ” he hinted, “that you were about to give us some—er—explanation of what you were doing in the grounds last night at 11.45? ”

His tone said plainly: “And whatever it may be, we are not likely to believe it.”

“Yes, Mr. Cade, what _were_ you doing? ” said Lord Caterham, with lively interest.

“Well, ” said Anthony regretfully. “I’m afraid it’s rather a long story.”

He drew out his cigarette case.

“May I? ”

Lord Caterham nodded, and Anthony lit a cigarette, and braced himself for the ordeal.

He was aware, none better, of the peril in which he stood. In the short space of twenty-four hours, he had become embroiled in two separate crimes. His actions in connection with the first would not bear looking into for a second. After deliberately disposing of one body, and so defeating the aims of justice, he had arrived upon the scene of the second crime at the exact moment when it was being committed. For a young man looking for trouble, he could hardly have done better.

“South America, ” thought Anthony to himself, “simply isn’t in it with this! ”

He had already decided upon his course of action. He was going to tell the truth—with one trifling alteration, and one grave suppression.

“The story begins, ” said Anthony, “about three weeks ago—in Bulawayo. Mr. Lomax, of course, knows where that is—outpost of the Empire—‘What do we know of England who only England know? ’ all that sort of thing. I was conversing with a friend of mine, a Mr. James McGrath—”

He brought out the name slowly, with a thoughtful eye on George. George bounded in his seat and repressed an exclamation with difficulty.

“The upshot of our conversation was that I came to England to carry out a little commission for Mr. McGrath, who was unable to go himself. Since the passage was booked in his name, I travelled as James McGrath. I don’t know what particular kind of offence that was—the superintendent can tell me, I dare say, and run me in for so many months’ hard if necessary.”

“We’ll get on with the story, if you please, sir, ” said Battle, but his eyes twinkled a little.

“On arrival in London I went to the Blitz Hotel, still as James McGrath. My business in London was to deliver a certain manuscript to a firm of publishers, but almost immediately I received deputations from the representatives of two political parties of a foreign kingdom. The methods of one were strictly constitutional, the methods of the other were not. I dealt with them both accordingly. But my troubles were not over. That night my room was broken into, and an attempt at burglary was made by one of the waiters at the hotel.”

“That was not reported to the police, I think? ” said Superintendent Battle.

“You are right. It was not. Nothing was taken, you see. But I did report the occurrence to the manager of the hotel, and he will confirm my story, and tell you that the waiter in question decamped rather abruptly in the middle of the night. The next day, the publishers rang me up, and suggested that one of their representatives would call upon me and receive the manuscript. I agreed to this, and the arrangement was duly carried out on the following morning. Since I have heard nothing further, I presume the manuscript reached them safely. Yesterday, still as James McGrath, I received a letter from Mr. Lomax——”

Anthony paused. He was by now beginning to enjoy himself. George shifted uneasily.

“I remember, ” he murmured. “Such a large correspondence. The name, of course, being different, I could not be expected to know. And I may say, ” George’s voice rose a little, firm in the assurance of moral stability, “that I consider this—this—masquerading as another man in the highest degree improper. I have no doubt, no doubt whatever, that you have incurred a severe legal penalty.”

“In this letter, ” continued Anthony, unmoved, “Mr. Lomax made various suggestions concerning the manuscript in my charge. He also extended an invitation to me from Lord Caterham to join the house party here.”

“Delighted to see you, my dear fellow, ” said that nobleman. “Better late than never—eh? ”

George frowned at him.

Superintendent Battle bent an unmoved eye upon Anthony.

“And is that your explanation of your presence here last night, sir? ” he asked.

“Certainly not, ” said Anthony warmly. “When I am asked to stay at a country-house, I don’t scale the wall late at night, tramp across the park, and try the downstairs windows. I drive up to the front door, ring the bell and wipe my feet on the mat. I will proceed. I replied to Mr. Lomax’s letter, explaining that the manuscript had passed out of my keeping, and therefore regretfully declining Lord Caterham’s kind invitation. But after I had done so, I remembered something which had up till then escaped my memory.” He paused. The moment had come for skating over thin ice. “I must tell you that in my struggle with the waiter Giuseppe, I had wrested from him a small bit of paper with some words scribbled on it. They had conveyed nothing to me at the time, but I still had them, and the mention of Chimneys recalled them to me. I got the torn scrap out and looked at it. It was as I had thought. Here is the piece of paper, gentlemen, you can see for yourselves. The words on it are ‘_Chimneys 11.45 Thursday._’”

Battle examined the paper attentively.

“Of course, ” continued Anthony, “the word Chimneys might have nothing whatever to do with this house. On the other hand, it might. And undoubtedly this Giuseppe was a thieving rascal. I made up my mind to motor down here last night, satisfy myself that all was as it should be, put up at the inn, and call upon Lord Caterham in the morning and put him on his guard in case some mischief should be intended during the week-end.”

“Quite so, ” said Lord Caterham encouragingly. “Quite so.”

“I was late in getting here—had not allowed enough time. Consequently I stopped the car, climbed over the wall and ran across the park. When I arrived on the terrace, the whole house was dark and silent. I was just turning away when I heard a shot. I fancied that it came from inside the house, and I ran back, crossed the terrace, and tried the windows. But they were fastened, and there was no sound of any kind from inside the house. I waited a while, but the whole place was still as the grave, so I made up my mind that I had made a mistake, and that what I had heard was a stray poacher—quite a natural conclusion to come to under the circumstances, I think.”

“Quite natural, ” said Superintendent Battle expressionlessly.

“I went on to the inn, put up as I said—and heard the news this morning. I realized, of course, that I was a suspicious character—bound to be under the circumstances, and came up here to tell my story, hoping it wasn’t going to be handcuffs for one.”

There was a pause. Colonel Melrose looked sideways at Superintendent Battle.

“I think the story seems clear enough, ” he remarked.

“Yes, ” said Battle. “I don’t think we’ll be handing out any handcuffs this morning.”

“Any questions, Battle? ”

“There’s one thing I’d like to know. What was this manuscript? ”

He looked across at George, and the latter replied with a trace of unwillingness:

“The Memoirs of the late Count Stylptitch. You see——”

“You needn’t say anything more, ” said Battle. “I see perfectly.”

He turned to Anthony.

“Do you know who it was that was shot, Mr. Cade? ”

“At the _Jolly Dog_ it was understood to be a Count Stanislaus or some such name.”

“Tell him, ” said Battle laconically to George Lomax.

George was clearly reluctant, but he was forced to speak:

“The gentleman who was staying here incognito as Count Stanislaus was His Highness Prince Michael of Herzoslovakia.”

Anthony whistled.

“That must be deuced awkward, ” he remarked.

Superintendent Battle, who had been watching Anthony closely, gave a short grunt as though satisfied of something, and rose abruptly to his feet.

“There are one or two questions I’d like to ask Mr. Cade, ” he announced. “I’ll take him into the Council Chamber with me if I may.”

“Certainly, certainly, ” said Lord Caterham. “Take him anywhere you like.”

Anthony and the detective went out together.

The body had been removed from the scene of the tragedy. There was a dark stain on the floor where it had lain, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest that a tragedy had ever occurred. The sun poured in through the three windows, flooding the room with light, and bringing out the mellow tone of the old panelling. Anthony looked around him with approval.

“Very nice, ” he commented. “Nothing much to beat old England, is there? ”

“Did it seem to you at first it was in this room the shot was fired? ” asked the superintendent, not replying to Anthony’s eulogium.

“Let me see.”

Anthony opened the window and went out on the terrace, looking up at the house.

“Yes, that’s the room all right, ” he said. “It’s built out, and occupies all the corner. If the shot had been fired anywhere else, it would have sounded from the _left_, but this was from behind me or to the right if anything. That’s why I thought of poachers. It’s at the extremity of the wing, you see.”

He stepped back across the threshold, and asked suddenly, as though the idea had just struck him:

“But why do you ask? You know he was shot here, don’t you? ”

“Ah! ” said the superintendent. “We never know as much as we’d like to know. But, yes, he was shot here all right. Now you said something about trying the windows, didn’t you? ”

“Yes. They were fastened from the inside.”

“How many of them did you try? ”

“All three of them.”

“Sure of that, sir? ”

“I’m in the habit of being sure. Why do you ask? ”

“That’s a funny thing, ” said the superintendent.

“What’s a funny thing? ”

“When the crime was discovered this morning, the middle one was open—not latched, that is to say.”

“Whew! ” said Anthony, sinking down on the window seat, and taking out his cigarette case. “That’s rather a blow. That opens up quite a different aspect of the case. It leaves us two alternatives. Either he was killed by some one in the house, and that some one unlatched the window after I had gone to make it look like an outside job—incidentally with me as Little Willie—or else, not to mince matters, I’m lying. I dare say you incline to the second possibility, but, upon my honour, you’re wrong.”

“Nobody’s going to leave this house until I’m through with them, I can tell you that, ” said Superintendent Battle grimly.

Anthony looked at him keenly.

“How long have you had the idea that it might be an inside job? ” he asked.

Battle smiled.

“I’ve had a notion that way all along. Your trail was a bit too—flaring, if I may put it that way. As soon as your boots fitted the footmarks, I began to have my doubts.”

“I congratulate Scotland Yard, ” said Anthony lightly.

But at that moment, the moment when Battle apparently admitted Anthony’s complete absence of complicity in the crime, Anthony felt more than ever the need of being upon his guard. Superintendent Battle was a very astute officer. It would not do to make any slip with Superintendent Battle about.

“That’s where it happened, I suppose? ” said Anthony, nodding towards the dark patch upon the floor.

“Yes.”

“What was he shot with—a revolver? ”

“Yes, but we shan’t know what make until they get the bullet out at the autopsy.”

“It wasn’t found, then? ”

“No, it wasn’t found.”

“No clues of any kind? ”

“Well, we’ve got this.”

Rather after the manner of a conjurer, Superintendent Battle produced a half-sheet of notepaper. And, as he did so, he again watched Anthony closely without seeming to do so.

But Anthony recognized the design upon it without any sign of consternation.

“Aha! Comrades of the Red Hand again. If they’re going to scatter this sort of thing about, they ought to have it lithographed. It must be a frightful nuisance doing every one separately. Where was this found? ”

“Underneath the body. You’ve seen it before, sir? ”

Anthony recounted to him in detail his short encounter with that public-spirited association.

“The idea is, I suppose, that the Comrades did him in.”

“Do you think it likely, sir? ”

“Well, it would be in keeping with their propaganda. But I’ve always found that those who talk most about blood have never actually seen it run. I shouldn’t have said the Comrades had the guts myself. And they’re such picturesque people too. I don’t see one of them disguising himself as a suitable guest for a country house. Still, one never knows.”

“Quite right, Mr. Cade. One never knows.”

Anthony looked suddenly amused.

“I see the big idea now. Open window, trail of footprints, suspicious stranger at village inn. But I can assure you, my dear superintendent, that, whatever I am, I am not the local agent of the Red Hand.”

Superintendent Battle smiled a little. Then he played his last card.

“Would you have any objection to seeing the body? ” he shot out suddenly.

“None whatever, ” rejoined Anthony.

Battle took a key from his pocket, and preceding Anthony down the corridor, paused at a door and unlocked it. It was one of the smaller drawing-rooms. The body lay on a table covered with a sheet.

Superintendent Battle waited until Anthony was beside him, and then whisked away the sheet suddenly.

An eager light sprang into his eyes at the half-uttered exclamation and the start of surprise which the other gave.

“So you _do_ recognize him, Mr. Cade, ” he said, in a voice that he strove to render devoid of triumph.

“I’ve seen him before, yes, ” said Anthony, recovering himself. “But not as Prince Michael Obolovitch. He purported to come from Messrs. Balderson and Hodgkins, and he called himself Mr. Holmes.”

The American Visitor

Superintendent Battle replaced the sheet with the slightly crest-fallen air of a man whose best point has fallen flat. Anthony stood with his hands in his pockets lost in thought.

“So that’s what old Lollipop meant when he talked about ‘other means, ’” he murmured at last.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Cade? ”

“Nothing, superintendent. Forgive my abstraction. You see, I—or rather my friend, Jimmy McGrath, has been very neatly done out of a thousand pounds.”

“A thousand pounds is a nice sum of money, ” said Battle.

“It isn’t the thousand pounds so much, ” said Anthony, “though I agree with you that it’s a nice sum of money. It’s being done that maddens me. I handed over that manuscript like a little woolly lamb. It hurts, superintendent, indeed it hurts.”

The detective said nothing.

“Well, well, ” said Anthony. “Regrets are vain, and all may not yet be lost. I’ve only got to get hold of dear old Stylptitch’s Reminiscences between now and next Wednesday and all will be gas and gaiters.”

“Would you mind coming back to the Council Chamber, Mr. Cade? There’s one little thing I want to point out to you.”

Back in the Council Chamber, the detective strode over at once to the middle window.

“I’ve been thinking, Mr. Cade. This particular window is very stiff, very stiff indeed. You might have been mistaken in thinking that it was fastened. It might just have stuck. I’m sure—yes, I’m almost sure, that you _were_ mistaken.”

Anthony eyed him keenly.

“And supposing I say that I’m quite sure I was not? ”

“Don’t you think you could have been? ” said Battle, looking at him very steadily.

“Well, to oblige you, superintendent, yes.”

Battle smiled in a satisfied fashion.

“You’re quick in the uptake, sir. And you’ll have no objection to saying so, careless like, at a suitable moment? ”

“None whatever. I——”

He paused, as Battle gripped his arm. The superintendent was bent forward, listening.

Enjoining silence on Anthony with a gesture, he tiptoed noiselessly to the door, and flung it suddenly open.

On the threshold stood a tall man with black hair neatly parted in the middle, china blue eyes with a particularly innocent expression, and a large placid face.

“Your pardon, gentlemen, ” he said in a slow drawling voice with a pronounced transatlantic accent. “But is it permitted to inspect the scene of the crime? I take it that you are both gentlemen from Scotland Yard? ”

“I have not that honour, ” said Anthony. “But this gentleman is Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard.”

“Is that so? ” said the American gentleman, with a great appearance of interest. “Pleased to meet you, sir. My name is Hiram P. Fish, of New York City.”

“What was it you wanted to see, Mr. Fish? ” asked the detective.

The American walked gently into the room, and looked with much interest at the dark patch on the floor.

“I am interested in crime, Mr. Battle. It is one of my hobbies. I have contributed a monograph to one of our weekly periodicals on the subject ‘Degeneracy and the Criminal.’”

As he spoke, his eyes went gently round the room, seeming to note everything in it. They rested just a shade longer on the window.

“The body, ” said Superintendent Battle, stating a self-evident fact, “has been removed.”

“Surely, ” said Mr. Fish. His eyes went on to the panelled walls. “Some remarkable pictures in this room, gentlemen. A Holbein, two Van Dycks, and, if I am not mistaken, a Velasquez. I am interested in pictures—and likewise in first editions. It was to see his first editions that Lord Caterham was so kind as to invite me down here.”

He sighed gently.

“I guess that’s all off now. It would show a proper feeling I suppose, for the guests to return to town immediately? ”

“I’m afraid that can’t be done, sir, ” said Superintendent Battle. “Nobody must leave the house until after the inquest.”

“Is that so? And when is the inquest? ”

“May be to-morrow, may not be until Monday. We’ve got to arrange for the autopsy and see the Coroner.”

“I get you, ” said Mr. Fish. “Under the circumstances, though, it will be a melancholy party.”

Battle led the way to the door.

“We’d best get out of here, ” he said. “We’re keeping it locked still.”

He waited for the other two to pass through, and then turned the key and removed it.

“I opine, ” said Mr. Fish, “that you are seeking for fingerprints? ”

“Maybe, ” said the superintendent laconically.

“I should say to that, on a night such as last night, an intruder would have left footprints on the hardwood floor.”

“None inside, plenty outside.”

“Mine, ” explained Anthony cheerfully.

The innocent eyes of Mr. Fish swept over him.

“Young man, ” he said, “you surprise me.”

They turned a corner, and came out into the big wide hall, panelled like the Council Chamber in old oak, and with a wide gallery above it. Two other figures came into sight at the far end.

“Aha! ” said Mr. Fish. “Our genial host.”

This was such a ludicrous description of Lord Caterham that Anthony had to turn his head away to conceal a smile.

“And with him, ” continued the American, “is a lady whose name I did not catch last night. But she is bright—she is very bright.”

With Lord Caterham was Virginia Revel.

Anthony had been anticipating this meeting all along. He had no idea how to act. He must leave it to Virginia. Although he had full confidence in her presence of mind, he had not the slightest idea what line she would take. He was not long left in doubt.

“Why, it’s Mr. Cade, ” said Virginia. She held out both hands to him. “So you found you could come down after all? ”

“My dear Mrs. Revel, I had no idea Mr. Cade was a friend of yours, ” said Lord Caterham.

“He’s a very old friend, ” said Virginia, smiling at Anthony with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I ran across him in London unexpectedly yesterday, and told him I was coming down here.”

Anthony was quick to give her her pointer.

“I explained to Mrs. Revel, ” he said, “that I had been forced to refuse your kind invitation—since it had really been extended to quite a different man. And I couldn’t very well foist a perfect stranger on you under false pretences.”

“Well, well, my dear fellow, ” said Lord Caterham, “that’s all over and done with now. I’ll send down to the _Cricketers_ for your bag.”

“It’s very kind of you, Lord Caterham, but——”

“Nonsense, of course you must come to Chimneys. Horrible place, the _Cricketers_—to stay in, I mean.”

“Of course you must come, Mr. Cade, ” said Virginia softly.

Anthony realized the altered tone of his surroundings. Already Virginia had done much for him. He was no longer an ambiguous stranger. Her position was so assured and unassailable that anyone for whom she vouched was accepted as a matter of course. He thought of the pistol in the tree at Burnham Beeches, and smiled inwardly.

“I’ll send for your traps, ” said Lord Caterham to Anthony. “I suppose, in the circumstances, we can’t have any shooting. A pity. But there it is. And I don’t know what the devil to do with Isaacstein. It’s all very unfortunate.”

The depressed peer sighed heavily.

“That’s settled, then, ” said Virginia. “You can begin to be useful right away, Mr. Cade, and take me out on the lake. It’s very peaceful there and far from crime and all that sort of thing. Isn’t it awful for poor Lord Caterham having a murder done in his house? But it’s George’s fault really. This is George’s party, you know.”

“Ah! ” said Lord Caterham. “But I should never have listened to him! ”

He assumed the air of a strong man betrayed by a single weakness.

“One can’t help listening to George, ” said Virginia. “He always holds you so that you can’t get away. I’m thinking of patenting a detachable lapel.”

“I wish you would, ” chuckled her host. “I’m glad you’re coming to us, Cade. I need support.”

“I appreciate your kindness very much, Lord Caterham, ” said Anthony. “Especially, ” he added, “when I’m such a suspicious character. But my staying here makes it easier for Battle.”

“In what way, sir? ” asked the superintendent.

“It won’t be so difficult to keep an eye on me, ” explained Anthony gently.

And by the momentary flicker of the superintendent’s eyelids he knew that his shot had gone home.

Mainly Political and Financial

Except for that involuntary twitch of the eyelids, Superintendent Battle’s impassivity was unimpaired. If he had been surprised at Virginia’s recognition of Anthony, he did not show it. He and Lord Caterham stood together and watched those two go out through the garden door. Mr. Fish also watched them.

“Nice young fellow, that, ” said Lord Caterham.

“Vurry nice for Mrs. Revel to meet an old friend, ” murmured the American. “They have been acquainted some time, presoomably? ”

“Seems so, ” said Lord Caterham. “But I’ve never heard her mention him before. Oh, by the way, Battle, Mr. Lomax has been asking for you. He’s in the Blue morning-room.”

“Very good, Lord Caterham. I’ll go there at once.”

Battle found his way to the Blue morning-room without difficulty. He was already familiar with the geography of the house.

“Ah, there you are, Battle, ” said Lomax.

He was striding impatiently up and down the carpet. There was one other person in the room, a big man sitting in a chair by the fireplace. He was dressed in very correct English shooting clothes which nevertheless sat strangely upon him. He had a fat yellow face, and black eyes, as impenetrable as those of a cobra. There was a generous curve to the big nose and power in the square lines of the vast jaw.

“Come in, Battle, ” said Lomax irritably. “And shut the door behind you. This is Mr. Herman Isaacstein.”

Battle inclined his head respectfully.

He knew all about Mr. Herman Isaacstein, and though the great financier sat there silent, whilst Lomax strode up and down and talked, he knew who was the real power in the room.

“We can speak more freely now, ” said Lomax. “Before Lord Caterham and Colonel Melrose, I was anxious not to say too much. You understand, Battle? These things mustn’t get about.”

“Ah! ” said Battle. “But they always do, more’s the pity.”

Just for a second he saw a trace of a smile on the fat yellow face. It disappeared as suddenly as it had come.

“Now what do you really think of this young fellow—this Anthony Cade? ” continued George. “Do you still assume him to be innocent? ”

Battle shrugged his shoulders very slightly.

“He tells a straight story. Part of it we shall be able to verify. On the face of it, it accounts for his presence here last night. I shall cable to South Africa, of course, for information about his antecedents.”

“Then you regard him as cleared of all complicity? ”

Battle raised a large square hand.

“Not so fast, sir. I never said that.”

“What is your own idea about the crime, Superintendent Battle? ” asked Isaacstein, speaking for the first time.

His voice was deep and rich, and had a certain compelling quality about it. It had stood him in good stead at board meetings in his younger days.

“It’s rather too soon to have ideas, Mr. Isaacstein. I’ve not got beyond asking myself the first question.”

“What is that? ”

“Oh, it’s always the same. Motive. Who benefits by the death of Prince Michael? We’ve got to answer that before we can get anywhere.”

“The Revolutionary party of Herzoslovakia——” began George.

Superintendent Battle waved him aside with something less than his usual respect.

“It wasn’t the Comrades of the Red Hand, sir, if you’re thinking of them.”

“But the paper—with the scarlet hand on it? ”

“Put there to suggest the obvious solution.”

George’s dignity was a little ruffled.

“Really, Battle, I don’t see how you can be so sure of that.”

“Bless you, Mr. Lomax, we know all about the Comrades of the Red Hand. We’ve had our eye on them ever since Prince Michael landed in England. That sort of thing is the elementary work of the department. They’d never be allowed to get within a mile of him.”

“I agree with Superintendent Battle, ” said Isaacstein. “We must look elsewhere.”

“You see, sir, ” said Battle, encouraged by his support, “we do know a little about the case. If we don’t know who gains by his death, we do know who loses by it.”

“Meaning? ” said Isaacstein.

His black eyes were bent upon the detective. More than ever, he reminded Battle of a hooded cobra.

“You and Mr. Lomax, not to mention the Loyalist party of Herzoslovakia. If you’ll pardon the expression, sir, you’re in the soup.”

“Really, Battle, ” interposed George, shocked to the core.

“Go on, Battle, ” said Isaacstein. “In the soup describes the situation very accurately. You’re an intelligent man.”

“You’ve got to have a King. You’ve lost your King—like that! ” He snapped his large fingers. “You’ve got to find another in a hurry, and that’s not an easy job. No, I don’t want to know the details of your scheme, the bare outline is enough for me, but, I take it, it’s a big deal? ”

Isaacstein bent his head slowly.

“It’s a very big deal.”

“That brings me to my second question. Who is the next heir to the throne of Herzoslovakia? ”

Isaacstein looked across at Lomax. The latter answered the question, with a certain reluctance, and a good deal of hesitation:

“That would be—I should say—yes, in all probability Prince Nicholas would be the next heir.”

“Ah! ” said Battle. “And who is Prince Nicholas? ”

“A first cousin of Prince Michael’s.”

“Ah! ” said Battle. “I should like to hear all about Prince Nicholas, especially where he is at present.”

“Nothing much is known of him, ” said Lomax. “As a young man, he was most peculiar in his ideas, consorted with Socialists and Republicans, and acted in a way highly unbecoming to his position. He was sent down from Oxford, I believe, for some wild escapade. There was a rumour of his death two years later in the Congo, but it was only a rumour. He turned up a few months ago when news of the Royalist reaction got about.”

“Indeed? ” said Battle. “Where did he turn up? ”

“In America.”

“America! ”

Battle turned to Isaacstein with one laconic word:

“Oil? ”

The financier nodded.

“He represented that if the Herzoslovakians chose a King, they would prefer him to Prince Michael as being more in sympathy with modern enlightened ideas, and he drew attention to his early democratic views and his sympathy with Republican ideals. In return for financial support, he was prepared to grant concessions to a certain group of American financiers.”

Superintendent Battle so far forgot his habitual impassivity as to give vent to a prolonged whistle.

“So that is it, ” he muttered. “In the meantime, the Loyalist party supported Prince Michael, and you felt sure you’d come out on top. And then this happens! ”

“You surely don’t think——” began George.

“It was a big deal, ” said Battle. “Mr. Isaacstein says so. And I should say that what he calls a big deal _is_ a big deal.”

“There are always unscrupulous tools to be got hold of, ” said Isaacstein quietly. “For the moment, Wall Street wins. But they’ve not done with me yet. Find out who killed Prince Michael, Superintendent Battle, if you want to do your country a service.”

“One thing strikes me as highly suspicious, ” put in George. “Why did the equerry, Captain Andrassy, not come down with the Prince yesterday? ”

“I’ve inquired into that, ” said Battle. “It’s perfectly simple. He stayed in town to make arrangements with a certain lady, on behalf of Prince Michael, for next week-end. The Baron rather frowned on such things, thinking them injudicious at the present stage of affairs, so His Highness had to go about them in a hole and corner manner. He was, if I may say so, inclined to be a rather—er—dissipated young man.”

“I’m afraid so, ” said George ponderously. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“There’s one other point we ought to take into account, I think, ” said Battle, speaking with a certain amount of hesitation. “King Victor’s supposed to be in England.”

“King Victor? ”

Lomax frowned in an effort at recollection.

“Notorious French crook, sir. We’ve had a warning from the Sûreté in Paris.”

“Of course, ” said George. “I remember now. Jewel thief, isn’t he? Why, that’s the man——”

He broke off abruptly. Isaacstein, who had been frowning abstractedly at the fireplace, looked up just too late to catch the warning glance telegraphed from Superintendent Battle to the other. But being a man sensitive to vibrations in the atmosphere, he was conscious of a sense of strain.

“You don’t want me any longer, do you, Lomax? ” he inquired.

“No, thank you, my dear fellow.”

“Would it upset your plans if I returned to London, Superintendent Battle? ”

“I’m afraid so, sir, ” said the Superintendent civilly. “You see, if you go, there will be others who’ll want to go also. And that would never do.”

“Quite so.”

The great financier left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Splendid fellow, Isaacstein, ” murmured George Lomax perfunctorily.

“Very powerful personality, ” agreed Superintendent Battle.

George began to pace up and down again.

“What you say disturbs me greatly, ” he began. “King Victor! I thought he was in prison? ”

“Came out a few months ago. French police meant to keep on his heels, but he managed to give them the slip straight away. He would too. One of the coolest customers that ever lived. For some reason or other, they believe he’s in England, and have notified us to that effect.”

“But what should he be doing in England? ”

“That’s for you to say, sir, ” said Battle significantly.

“You mean——? You think——? You know the story, of course—ah, yes, I can see you do. I was not in office, of course, at the time, but I heard the whole story from the late Lord Caterham. An unparalleled catastrophe.”

“The Koh-i-noor, ” said Battle reflectively.

“Hush, Battle! ” George glanced suspiciously round him. “I beg of you, mention no names. Much better not. If you must speak of it, call it the K.”

The superintendent looked wooden again.

“You don’t connect King Victor with this crime, do you, Battle? ”

“It’s just a possibility, that’s all. If you’ll cast your mind back, sir, you’ll remember that there were four places where a—er—certain Royal visitor might have concealed the jewel. Chimneys was one of them. King Victor was arrested in Paris three days after the—disappearance, if I may call it that, of the K. It was always hoped that he would some day lead us to the jewel.”

“But Chimneys has been ransacked and overhauled a dozen times.”

“Yes, ” said Battle sapiently. “But it’s never much good looking when you don’t know where to look. Only suppose now, that this King Victor came here to look for the thing, was surprised by Prince Michael, and shot him.”

“It’s possible, ” said George. “A most likely solution of the crime.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as that. It’s possible, but not much more.”

“Why is that? ”

“Because King Victor has never been known to take a life, ” said Battle seriously.

“Oh, but a man like that—a dangerous criminal——”

But Battle shook his head in a dissatisfied manner.

“Criminals always act true to type, Mr. Lomax. It’s surprising. All the same——”

“Yes? ”

“I’d rather like to question the Prince’s servant. I’ve left him purposely to the last. We’ll have him in here, sir, if you don’t mind.”

George signified his assent. The superintendent rang the bell. Tredwell answered it, and departed with his instructions.

He returned shortly accompanied by a tall fair man with high cheek-bones, and very deep-set blue eyes, and an impassivity of countenance which almost rivalled Battle’s.

“Boris Anchoukoff? ”

“Yes.”

“You were valet to Prince Michael? ”

“I was His Highness’s valet, yes.”

The man spoke good English, though with a markedly harsh foreign accent.

“You know that your master was murdered last night? ”

A deep snarl, like the snarl of a wild beast, was the man’s only answer. It alarmed George, who withdrew prudently towards the window.

“When did you see your master last? ”

“His Highness retired to bed at half-past ten. I slept, as always, in the ante-room next to him. He must have gone down to the room downstairs by the other door, the door that gave on to the corridor. I did not hear him go. It may be that I was drugged. I have been an unfaithful servant, I slept while my master woke. I am accursed.”

George gazed at him, fascinated.

“You loved your master, eh? ” said Battle, watching the man closely.

Boris’s features contracted painfully. He swallowed twice. Then his voice came, harsh with emotion.

“I say this to you, English Policeman, I would have died for him! And since he is dead, and I still live, my eyes shall not know sleep, or my heart rest, until I have avenged him. Like a dog will I nose out his murderer and when I have discovered him—— Ah! ” His eyes lit up. Suddenly he drew an immense knife from beneath his coat and brandished it aloft. “Not all at once will I kill him—oh, no! —first I will slit his nose, and cut off his ears and put out his eyes, and then—then, into his black heart I will thrust this knife.”

Swiftly he replaced the knife, and turning, left the room. George Lomax, his eyes always protuberant, but now goggling almost out of his head, stared at the closed door.

“Pure bred Herzoslovakian, of course, ” he muttered. “Most uncivilized people. A race of brigands.”

Superintendent Battle rose alertly to his feet.

“Either that man’s sincere, ” he remarked, “or he’s the best bluffer I’ve ever seen. And, if it’s the former, God help Prince Michael’s murderer when that human bloodhound gets hold of him.”

The French Stranger

Virginia and Anthony walked side by side down the path which led to the lake. For some minutes after leaving the house they were silent. It was Virginia who broke the silence at last with a little laugh.

“Oh, dear, ” she said, “isn’t it dreadful? Here I am so bursting with the things I want to tell you, and the things I want to know, that I simply don’t know where to begin. First of all”—she lowered her voice—“_What have you done with the body? _ How awful it sounds, doesn’t it! I never dreamt that I should be so steeped in crime.”

“I suppose it’s quite a novel sensation for you, ” agreed Anthony.

“But not for you? ”

“Well, I’ve never disposed of a corpse before, certainly.”

“Tell me about it.”

Briefly and succinctly, Anthony ran over the steps he had taken on the previous night. Virginia listened attentively.

“I think you were very clever, ” she said approvingly when he had finished. “I can pick up the trunk again when I go back to Paddington. The only difficulty that might arise is if you had to give an account of where you were yesterday evening.”

“I can’t see that that can arise. The body can’t have been found until late last night—or possibly this morning. Otherwise there would have been something about it in this morning’s papers. And whatever you may imagine from reading detective stories, doctors aren’t such magicians that they can tell you exactly how many hours a man has been dead. The exact time of his death will be pretty vague. An alibi for last night would be far more to the point.”

“I know. Lord Caterham was telling me all about it. But the Scotland Yard man is quite convinced of your innocence now, isn’t he? ”

Anthony did not reply at once.

“He doesn’t look particularly astute, ” continued Virginia.

“I don’t know about that, ” said Anthony slowly. “I’ve an impression that there are no flies on Superintendent Battle. He appears to be convinced of my innocence—but I’m not so sure. He’s stumped at present by my apparent lack of motive.”

“Apparent? ” cried Virginia. “But what possible reason could you have for murdering an unknown foreign Count? ”

Anthony darted a sharp glance at her.

“You were at one time or other in Herzoslovakia, weren’t you? ” he asked.

“Yes. I was there with my husband, for two years, at the Embassy.”

“That was just before the assassination of the King and Queen. Did you ever run across Prince Michael Obolovitch? ”

“Michael? Of course I did. Horrid little wretch! He suggested, I remember, that I should marry him morganatically.”

“Did he really? And what did he suggest you should do about your existing husband? ”

“Oh, he had a sort of David and Uriah scheme all made out.”

“And how did you respond to this amiable offer? ”

“Well, ” said Virginia, “unfortunately one had to be diplomatic. So poor little Michael didn’t get it as straight from the shoulder as he might have done. But he retired hurt all the same. Why all this interest about Michael? ”

“Something I’m getting at in my own blundering fashion. I take it that you didn’t meet the murdered man? ”

“No. To put it like a book, he ‘retired to his own apartments immediately on arrival.’”

“And of course you haven’t seen the body? ”

Virginia, eyeing him with a good deal of interest, shook her head.

“Could you get to see it, do you think? ”

“By means of influence in high places—meaning Lord Caterham—I dare say I could. Why? Is it an order? ”

“Good Lord, no, ” said Anthony, horrified. “Have I been as dictatorial as all that? No, it’s simply this. Count Stanislaus was the incognito of Prince Michael of Herzoslovakia.”

Virginia’s eyes opened very wide.

“I see.” Suddenly her face broke into its fascinating one-sided smile. “I hope you don’t suggest that Michael went to his rooms simply to avoid seeing me? ”

“Something of the kind, ” admitted Anthony. “You see, if I’m right in my idea that some one wanted to prevent your coming to Chimneys, the reason seems to lie in your knowing Herzoslovakia. Do you realize that you’re the only person here who knew Prince Michael by sight? ”

“Do you mean that this man who was murdered was an impostor? ” asked Virginia abruptly.

“That is the possibility that crossed my mind. If you can get Lord Caterham to show you the body, we can clear up that point at once.”

“He was shot at 11.45, ” said Virginia thoughtfully. “The time mentioned on that scrap of paper. The whole thing’s horribly mysterious.”

“That reminds me. Is that your window up there? The second from the end over the Council Chamber? ”

“No, my room is in the Elizabethan wing, the other side. Why? ”

“Simply because as I walked away last night, after thinking I heard a shot, the light went up in that room.”

“How curious! I don’t know who has that room, but I can find out by asking Bundle. Perhaps they heard the shot? ”

“If so, they haven’t come forward to say so. I understood from Battle that nobody in the house heard the shot fired. It’s the only clue of any kind that I’ve got, and I dare say it’s a pretty rotten one, but I mean to follow it up for what it’s worth.”

“It’s curious, certainly, ” said Virginia thoughtfully.

They had arrived at the boat-house by the lake, and had been leaning against it as they talked.

“And now for the whole story, ” said Anthony. “We’ll paddle gently about on the lake, secure from the prying ears of Scotland Yard, American visitors, and curious house-maids.”

“I’ve heard something from Lord Caterham, ” said Virginia. “But not nearly enough. To begin with, which are you really, Anthony Cade or Jimmy McGrath? ”

For the second time that morning, Anthony unfolded the history of the last six weeks of his life—with this difference that the account given to Virginia needed no editing. He finished up with his own astonished recognition of “Mr. Holmes.”

“By the way, Mrs. Revel, ” he ended, “I’ve never thanked you for imperilling your immortal soul by saying that I was an old friend of yours.”

“Of course you’re an old friend, ” cried Virginia. “You don’t suppose I’d cumber you with a corpse, and then pretend you were a mere acquaintance next time I met you? No, indeed! ”

She paused.

“Do you know one thing that strikes me about all this? ” she went on. “That there’s some extra mystery about those Memoirs that we haven’t fathomed yet.”

“I think you’re right, ” agreed Anthony. “There’s one thing I’d like you to tell me, ” he continued.

“What’s that? ”

“Why did you seem so surprised when I mentioned the name of Jimmy McGrath to you yesterday at Pont Street? Had you heard it before? ”

“I had, Sherlock Holmes. George—my cousin, George Lomax, you know—came to see me the other day, and suggested a lot of frightfully silly things. His idea was that I should come down here and make myself agreeable to this man McGrath and Delilah the Memoirs out of him somehow. He didn’t put it like that, of course. He talked a lot of nonsense about English gentlewomen, and things like that, but his real meaning was never obscure for a moment. It was just the sort of rotten thing poor old George would think of. And then I wanted to know too much, and he tried to put me off with lies that wouldn’t have deceived a child of two.”

“Well, his plan seems to have succeeded, anyhow, ” observed Anthony. “Here am I, the James McGrath he had in mind, and here are you being agreeable to me.”

“But, alas, for poor old George, no Memoirs! Now I’ve got a question for you. When I said I hadn’t written those letters, you said you knew I hadn’t—you couldn’t know any such thing? ”

“Oh, yes, I could, ” said Anthony, smiling. “I’ve got a good working knowledge of psychology.”

“You mean your belief in the sterling worth of my moral character was such that——”

But Anthony was shaking his head vigorously.

“Not at all. I don’t know anything about your moral character. You might have a lover, and you might write to him. But you’d never lie down to be blackmailed. The Virginia Revel of those letters was scared stiff. You’d have fought.”

“I wonder who the real Virginia Revel is—where she is, I mean. It makes me feel as though I had a double somewhere.”

Anthony lit a cigarette.

“You know that one of the letters was written from Chimneys? ” he asked at last.

“What? ” Virginia was clearly startled. “When was it written? ”

“It wasn’t dated. But it’s odd, isn’t it? ”

“I’m perfectly certain no other Virginia Revel has ever stayed at Chimneys. Bundle or Lord Caterham would have said something about the coincidence of the name if she had.”

“Yes. It’s rather queer. Do you know, Mrs. Revel, I am beginning to disbelieve profoundly in this other Virginia Revel.”

“She’s very elusive, ” agreed Virginia.

“Extraordinarily elusive. I am beginning to think that the person who wrote those letters deliberately used your name.”

“But why? ” cried Virginia. “Why should they do such a thing? ”

“Ah, that’s just the question. There’s the devil of a lot to find out about everything.”

“Who do you really think killed Michael? ” asked Virginia suddenly. “The Comrades of the Red Hand? ”

“I suppose they might have done so, ” said Anthony in a dissatisfied voice. “Pointless killing would be rather characteristic of them.”

“Let’s get to work, ” said Virginia. “I see Lord Caterham and Bundle strolling together. The first thing to do is to find out definitely whether the dead man is Michael or not.”

Anthony paddled to shore and a few moments later they had joined Lord Caterham and his daughter.

“Lunch is late, ” said his lordship in a depressed voice. “Battle has insulted the cook, I expect.”

“This is a friend of mine, Bundle, ” said Virginia. “Be nice to him.”

Bundle looked earnestly at Anthony for some minutes, and then addressed a remark to Virginia as though he had not been there.

“Where do you pick up these nice-looking men, Virginia? ‘How do you do it? ’ says she enviously.”

“You can have him, ” said Virginia generously. “I want Lord Caterham.”

She smiled upon the flattered peer, slipped her hand through his arm and they moved off together.

“Do you talk? ” asked Bundle. “Or are you just strong and silent? ”

“Talk? ” said Anthony. “I babble. I murmur. I gurgle—like the running brook, you know. Sometimes I even ask questions.”

“As for instance? ”

“Who occupies the second room on the left from the end? ”

He pointed to it as he spoke.

“What an extraordinary question! ” said Bundle. “You intrigue me greatly. Let me see—yes—that’s Mademoiselle Brun’s room. The French governess. She endeavours to keep my young sisters in order. Dulcie and Daisy—like the song, you know. I dare say they’d have called the next one, Dorothy May. But mother got tired of having nothing but girls and died. Thought some one else could take on the job of providing an heir.”

“Mademoiselle Brun, ” said Anthony thoughtfully. “How long has she been with you? ”

“Two months. She came to us when we were in Scotland.”

“Ha! ” said Anthony. “I smell a rat.”

“I wish I could smell some lunch, ” said Bundle. “Do I ask the Scotland Yard man to have lunch with us, Mr. Cade? You’re a man of the world, you know about the etiquette of such things. We’ve never had a murder in the house before. Exciting, isn’t it? I’m sorry your character was so completely cleared this morning. I’ve always wanted to meet a murderer and see for myself if they’re as genial and charming as the Sunday papers always say they are. God! what’s that? ”

“What” seemed to be a taxi approaching the house. Its two occupants were a tall man with a bald head and a black beard, and a smaller and younger man with a black moustache. Anthony recognized the former, and guessed that it was he—rather than the vehicle which contained him—that had wrung the exclamation of astonishment from his companion’s lips.

“Unless I much mistake, ” he remarked, “that is my old friend, Baron Lollipop.”

“Baron what? ”

“I call him Lollipop for convenience. The pronouncing of his own name tends to harden the arteries.”

“It nearly wrecked the telephone this morning, ” remarked Bundle. “So that’s the Baron, is it? I foresee he’ll be turned on to me this afternoon—and I’ve had Isaacstein all the morning. Let George do his own dirty work, say I, and to hell with politics. Excuse me leaving you, Mr. Cade, but I must stand by poor old Father.”

Bundle retreated rapidly to the house.

Anthony stood looking after her for a minute or two and thoughtfully lighted a cigarette. As he did so, his ear was caught by a stealthy sound quite near him. He was standing by the boat-house, and the sound seemed to come from just round the corner. The mental picture conveyed to him was that of a man vainly trying to stifle a sudden sneeze.

“Now I wonder—I very much wonder who’s behind the boat-house, ” said Anthony to himself. “We’d better see, I think.”

Suiting the action to the word, he threw away the match he had just blown out, and ran lightly and noiselessly round the corner of the boat-house.

He came upon a man who had evidently been kneeling on the ground and was just struggling to rise to his feet. He was tall, wore a light coloured overcoat and glasses, and for the rest, had a short pointed black beard and a slightly foppish manner. He was between thirty and forty years of age, and altogether of a most respectable appearance.

“What are you doing here? ” asked Anthony.

He was pretty certain that the man was not one of Lord Caterham’s guests.

“I ask your pardon, ” said the stranger, with a marked foreign accent and what was meant to be an engaging smile. “It is that I wish to return to the _Jolly Crickets_, and I have lost my way. Would Monsieur be so good as to direct me? ”

“Certainly, ” said Anthony. “But you don’t go there by water, you know.”

“Eh? ” said the stranger, with the air of one at a loss.

“I said, ” repeated Anthony, with a meaning glance at the boat-house, “that you won’t get there by water. There’s a right of way across the park—some distance away, but all this is the private part. You’re trespassing.”

“I am most sorry, ” said the stranger. “I lost my direction entirely. I thought I would come up here and inquire.”

Anthony refrained from pointing out that kneeling behind a boat-house was a somewhat peculiar manner of prosecuting inquiries. He took the stranger kindly by the arm.

“You go this way, ” he said. “Right round the lake and straight on—you can’t miss the path. When you get on it, turn to the left, and it will lead you to the village. You’re staying at the _Cricketers_, I suppose? ”

“I am, monsieur. Since this morning. Many thanks for your kindness in directing me.”

“Don’t mention it, ” said Anthony. “I hope you haven’t caught cold.”

“Eh? ” said the stranger.

“From kneeling on the damp ground, I mean, ” explained Anthony. “I fancied I heard you sneezing.”

“I may have sneezed, ” admitted the other.

“Quite so, ” said Anthony. “But you shouldn’t suppress a sneeze, you know. One of the most eminent doctors said so only the other day. It’s frightfully dangerous. I don’t remember exactly what it does to you—whether it’s an inhibition or whether it hardens your arteries, but you must never do it. Good morning.”

“Good morning, and thank you, monsieur, for setting me on the right road.”

“Second suspicious stranger from village inn, ” murmured Anthony to himself, as he watched the other’s retreating form. “And one that I can’t quite place, either. Appearance that of a French commercial traveller. I don’t quite see him as a Comrade of the Red Hand. Does he represent yet a third party in the harassed state of Herzoslovakia? The French governess has the second window from the end. A mysterious Frenchman is found slinking round the grounds, listening to conversations that are not meant for his ears. I’ll bet my hat there’s something in it.”

Musing thus, Anthony retraced his steps to the house. On the terrace he encountered Lord Caterham, looking suitably depressed, and two new arrivals. He brightened a little at the sight of Anthony.

“Ah, there you are, ” he remarked. “Let me introduce you to Baron—er—er—and Captain Andrassy. Mr. Anthony Cade.”

The Baron stared at Anthony with growing suspicion.

“Mr. Cade? ” he said stiffly. “I think not.”

“A word alone with you, Baron, ” said Anthony. “I can explain everything.”

The Baron bowed, and the two men walked down the terrace together.

“Baron, ” said Anthony. “I must throw myself upon your mercy. I have so far strained the honour of an English gentleman as to travel to this country under an assumed name. I represented myself to you as Mr. James McGrath—but you must see for yourself that the deception involved was infinitesimal. You are doubtless acquainted with the works of Shakespeare, and his remarks about the unimportance of the nomenclature of roses? This case is the same. The man you wanted to see was the man in possession of the Memoirs. I was that man. As you know only too well, I am no longer in possession of them. A neat trick. Baron, a very neat trick. Who thought of it, you or your principal? ”

“His Highness’s own idea it was. And for anyone but him to carry it out he would not permit.”

“He did it jolly well, ” said Anthony, with approval. “I never took him for anything but an Englishman.”

“The education of an English gentleman did the Prince receive, ” explained the Baron. “The custom of Herzoslovakia it is.”

“No professional could have pinched those papers better, ” said Anthony. “May I ask, without indiscretion, what has become of them? ”

“Between gentlemen, ” began the Baron.

“You are too kind, Baron, ” murmured Anthony. “I’ve never been called a gentleman so often as I have in the last forty-eight hours.”

“I to you say this—I believe them to be burnt.”

“You believe, but you don’t know, eh? Is that it? ”

“His Highness in his own keeping retained them. His purpose it was to read them and then by the fire to destroy them.”

“I see, ” said Anthony. “All the same, they are not the kind of light literature you’d skim through in half an hour.”

“Among the effects of my martyred master they have not discovered been. It is clear, therefore, that burnt they are.”

“H’m! ” said Anthony. “I wonder? ”

He was silent for a minute or two and then went on.

“I have asked you these questions, Baron, because, as you may have heard, I myself have been implicated in the crime. I must clear myself absolutely, so that no suspicion attaches to me.”

“Undoubtedly, ” said the Baron. “Your honour demands it.”

“Exactly, ” said Anthony. “You put these things so well. I haven’t got the knack of it. To continue, I can only clear myself by discovering the real murderer, and to do that I must have all the facts. This question of the Memoirs is very important. It seems to me possible that to gain possession of them might be the motive of the crime. Tell me, Baron, is that a very far-fetched idea? ”

The Baron hesitated for a moment or two.

“You yourself the Memoirs have read? ” he asked cautiously at length.

“I think I am answered, ” said Anthony, smiling. “Now Baron, there’s just one thing more. I should like to give you fair warning that it is still my intention to deliver that manuscript to the publishers on Wednesday next, the 13th of October.”

The Baron stared at him.

“But you have no longer got it? ”

“On Wednesday next, I said. To-day is Friday. That gives me five days to get hold of it again.”

“But if it is burnt? ”

“I don’t think it is burnt. I have good reasons for not believing so.”

As he spoke they turned the corner of the terrace. A massive figure was advancing towards them. Anthony, who had not yet seen the great Mr. Herman Isaacstein, looked at him with considerable interest.

“Ah, Baron, ” said Isaacstein, waving the big black cigar he was smoking, “this is a bad business—a very bad business.”

“My good friend, Mr. Isaacstein, it is indeed, ” cried the Baron. “All our noble edifice in ruins is.”

Anthony tactfully left the two gentlemen to their lamentations, and retraced his steps along the terrace.

Suddenly he came to a halt. A thin spiral of smoke was rising into the air apparently from the very centre of the yew hedge.

“It must be hollow in the middle, ” reflected Anthony. “I’ve heard of such things before.”

He looked swiftly to right and left of him. Lord Caterham was at the farther end of the terrace with Captain Andrassy. Their backs were towards him. Anthony bent down and wriggled his way through the massive yew.

He had been quite right in his supposition. The yew hedge was really not one, but two, a narrow passage divided them. The entrance to this was about half-way up, on the side of the house. There was no mystery about it, but no one seeing the yew hedge from the front would have guessed at the probability.

Anthony looked down the narrow vista. About half-way down, a man was reclining in a basket chair. A half-smoked cigar rested on the arm of the chair, and the gentleman himself appeared to be asleep.

“H’m! ” said Anthony to himself. “Evidently Mr. Hiram Fish prefers sitting in the shade.”

Tea in the Schoolroom

Anthony regained the terrace with the feeling uppermost in his mind that the only safe place for private conversations was the middle of the lake.

The resonant boom of a gong sounded from the house, and Tredwell appeared in a stately fashion from a side door.

“Luncheon is served, my lord.”

“Ah! ” said Lord Caterham, brisking up a little. “Lunch.”

At that moment two children burst out of the house. They were high-spirited young women of twelve and ten, and though their names might be Dulcie and Daisy, as Bundle had affirmed, they appeared to be more generally known as Guggle and Winkle. They executed a kind of war dance, interspersed with shrill whoops till Bundle emerged and quelled them.

“Where’s Mademoiselle? ” she demanded.

“She’s got the _migraine_, the _migraine_, the _migraine_! ” chanted Winkle.

“Hurrah! ” said Guggle, joining in.

Lord Caterham had succeeded in shepherding most of his guests into the house. Now he laid a restraining hand on Anthony’s arm.

“Come to my study, ” he breathed. “I’ve got something rather special there.”

Slinking down the hall, far more like a thief than like the master of the house, Lord Caterham gained the shelter of his sanctum. Here he unlocked a cupboard and produced various bottles.

“Talking to foreigners always makes me so thirsty, ” he explained apologetically. “I don’t know why it is.”

There was a knock on the door, and Virginia popped her head round the corner of it.

“Got a special cocktail for me? ” she demanded.

“Of course, ” said Lord Caterham hospitably. “Come in.”

The next few minutes were taken up with serious rites.

“I needed that, ” said Lord Caterham with a sigh, as he replaced his glass on the table. “As I said just now, I find talking to foreigners particularly fatiguing. I think it’s because they’re so polite. Come along. Let’s have some lunch.”

He led the way to the dining-room. Virginia put her hand on Anthony’s arm, and drew him back a little.

“I’ve done my good deed for the day, ” she whispered. “I got Lord Caterham to take me to see the body.”

“Well? ” demanded Anthony eagerly.

One theory of his was to be proved or disproved.

Virginia was shaking her head.

“You were wrong, ” she whispered. “It’s Prince Michael all right.”

“Oh! ” Anthony was deeply chagrined.

“And Mademoiselle has the _migraine_, ” he added aloud, in a dissatisfied tone.

“What has that got to do with it? ”

“Probably nothing, but I wanted to see her. You see, I’ve found out that Mademoiselle has the second room from the end—the one where I saw the light last night.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Probably there’s nothing in it. All the same, I mean to see Mademoiselle before the day is out.”

Lunch was somewhat of an ordeal. Even the cheerful impartiality of Bundle failed to reconcile the heterogeneous assembly. The Baron and Andrassy were correct, formal, full of etiquette, and had the air of attending a meal in a mausoleum. Lord Caterham was lethargic and depressed. Bill Eversleigh stared longingly at Virginia. George, very mindful of the trying position in which he found himself, conversed weightily with the Baron and Mr. Isaacstein. Guggle and Winkle, completely beside themselves with joy of having a murder in the house, had to be continually checked and kept under, whilst Mr. Hiram Fish slowly masticated his food, and drawled out dry remarks in his own peculiar idiom. Superintendent Battle had considerately vanished, and nobody knew what had become of him.

“Thank God that’s over, ” murmured Bundle to Anthony, as they left the table. “And George is taking the foreign contingent over to the Abbey this afternoon to discuss State secrets.”

“That will possibly relieve the atmosphere, ” agreed Anthony.

“I don’t mind the American so much, ” continued Bundle. “He and Father can talk first editions together quite happily in some secluded spot. Mr. Fish”—as the object of their conversation drew near—“I’m planning a peaceful afternoon for you.”

The American bowed.

“That’s too kind of you, Lady Eileen.”

“Mr. Fish, ” said Anthony, “had quite a peaceful morning.”

Mr. Fish shot a quick glance at him.

“Ah, sir, you observed me, then, in my seclooded retreat? There are moments, sir, when far from the madding crowd is the only motto for a man of quiet tastes.”

Bundle had drifted on, and the American and Anthony were left together. The former dropped his voice a little.

“I opine, ” he said, “that there is considerable mystery about this little dust up? ”

“Any amount of it, ” said Anthony.

“That guy with the bald head was perhaps a family connection? ”

“Something of the kind.”

“These Central European nations beat the band, ” declared Mr. Fish. “It’s kind of being rumoured around that the deceased gentleman was a Royal Highness. Is that so, do you know? ”

“He was staying here as Count Stanislaus, ” replied Anthony evasively.

To this Mr. Fish offered no further rejoinder than the somewhat cryptic:

“Oh! boy.”

After which he relapsed into silence for some moments.

“This police captain of yours, ” he observed at last, “Battle, or whatever his name is, is he the goods all right? ”

“Scotland Yard thinks so, ” replied Anthony dryly.

“He seems kind of hide-bound to me, ” remarked Mr. Fish. “No hustle to him. This big idea of his, letting no one leave the house, what is there to it? ”

He darted a very sharp look at Anthony as he spoke.

“Everyone’s got to attend the inquest to-morrow morning, you see.”

“That’s the idea, is it? No more to it than that? No question of Lord Caterham’s guests being suspected? ”

“My dear Mr. Fish! ”

“I was getting a mite uneasy—being a stranger in this country. But of course it was an outside job—I remember now. Window found unfastened, wasn’t it? ”

“It was, ” said Anthony, looking straight in front of him.

Mr. Fish sighed. After a minute or two he said in a plaintive tone:

“Young man, do you know how they get the water out of a mine? ”

“How? ”

“By pumping—but its almighty hard work! I observe the figure of my genial host detaching itself from the group over yonder. I must join him.”

Mr. Fish walked gently away, and Bundle drifted back again.

“Funny Fish, isn’t he? ” she remarked.

“He is.”

“It’s no good looking at Virginia, ” said Bundle sharply.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were. I don’t know how she does it. It isn’t what she says, I don’t even believe it’s what she looks. But, oh, boy! she gets there every time. Anyway, she’s on duty elsewhere for the time. She told me to be nice to you, and I’m going to be nice to you—by force if necessary.”

“No force required, ” Anthony assured her. “But, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you were nice to me on the water, in a boat.”

“It’s not a bad idea, ” said Bundle meditatively.

They strolled down to the lake together.

“There’s just one question I’d like to ask you, ” said Anthony as he paddled gently out from the shore, “before we turn to really interesting topics. Business before pleasure.”

“Whose bedroom do you want to know about now? ” asked Bundle with weary patience.

“Nobody’s bedroom for the moment. But I would like to know where you got your French governess from.”

“The man’s bewitched, ” said Bundle. “I got her from an Agency, and I pay her a hundred pounds a year, and her Christian name is Genevieve. Anything more you want to know? ”

“We’ll assume the Agency, ” said Anthony. “What about her references? ”

“Oh, glowing! She’d lived for ten years with the Countess of What Not.”

“What Not being——? ”

“The Comtesses de Breteuil, Chateau de Breteuil, Dinard.”

“You didn’t actually see the Comtesse yourself? It was all done by letter? ”

“Exactly.”

“H’m! ” said Anthony.

“You intrigue me, ” said Bundle. “You intrigue me enormously. Is it love or crime? ”

“Probably sheer idiocy on my part. Let’s forget it.”

“‘Let’s forget it, ’ said he negligently, having extracted all the information he wants. Mr. Cade, who do you suspect? I rather suspect Virginia as being the most unlikely person. Or possibly Bill.”

“What about you? ”

“Member of the aristocracy joins in secret the Comrades of the Red Hand. It would create a sensation all right.”

Anthony laughed. He liked Bundle, though he was a little afraid of the shrewd penetration of her sharp grey eyes.

“You must be proud of all this, ” he said suddenly, waving his hand towards the great house in the distance.

Bundle screwed up her eyes and tilted her head on one side.

“Yes—it means something, I suppose. But one’s too used to it. Anyway, we’re not here very much—too deadly dull. We’ve been at Cowes and Deauville all the summer after town, and then up to Scotland. Chimneys has been swathed in dust sheets for about five months. Once a week they take the dust sheets off and chars-à-bancs full of tourists come and gape, and listen to Tredwell. ‘On your right is the portrait of the fourth Marchioness of Caterham, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, ’ etc., and Ed or Bert, the humorist of the party, nudges his girl and says ‘Eh! Gladys, they’ve got two pennyworth of pictures here, right enough.’ And then they go and look at more pictures and yawn and shuffle their feet and wish it was time to go home.”

“Yet history has been made here once or twice, by all accounts.”

“You’ve been listening to George, ” said Bundle sharply. “That’s the kind of thing he’s always saying.”

But Anthony had raised himself on his elbow, and was staring at the shore.

“Is that a third suspicious stranger I see standing disconsolately by the boat-house? Or is it one of the house party? ”

Bundle lifted her head from the scarlet cushion.

“It’s Bill, ” she said.

“He seems to be looking for something.”

“He’s probably looking for me, ” said Bundle, without enthusiasm.

“Shall we row quickly in the opposite direction? ”

“That’s quite the right answer, but it should be delivered with more enthusiasm.”

“I shall row with double vigour after that rebuke.”

“Not at all, ” said Bundle. “I have my pride. Row me to where that young ass is waiting. Somebody’s got to look after him, I suppose. Virginia must have given him the slip. One of these days, inconceivable as it seems, I might want to marry George, so I might as well practise being ‘one of our well known political hostesses.’”

Anthony pulled obediently towards the shore.

“And what’s to become of me, I should like to know? ” he complained. “I refuse to be the unwanted third. Is that the children I see in the distance? ”

“Yes. Be careful, or they’ll rope you in.”

“I’m rather fond of children, ” said Anthony. “I might teach them some nice quiet intellectual game.”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Having relinquished Bundle to the care of her gallant captain, Anthony strolled off to where various shrill cries disturbed the peace of the afternoon. He was received with acclamation.

“Are you any good at playing Red Indians? ” asked Guggle sternly.

“Rather, ” said Anthony. “You should hear the noise I make when I’m being scalped. Like this.” He illustrated.

“Not so bad, ” said Winkle grudgingly. “Now do the scalper’s yell.”

Anthony obliged with a blood-curdling noise. In another minute the game of Red Indians was in full swing.

About an hour later, Anthony wiped his forehead, and ventured to inquire after Mademoiselle’s _migraine_. He was pleased to hear that that lady had entirely recovered. So popular had he become that he was urgently invited to come and have tea in the schoolroom.

“And then you can tell us about the man you saw hung, ” urged Guggle.

“Did you say you’d got a bit of the rope with you? ” asked Winkle.

“It’s in my suit-case, ” said Anthony solemnly. “You shall each have a piece of it.”

Winkle immediately let out a Wild Indian yell of satisfaction.

“We’ll have to go and get washed, I suppose, ” said Guggle gloomily. “You will come to tea, won’t you? You won’t forget? ”

Anthony swore solemnly that nothing should prevent his keeping the engagement. Satisfied, the youthful pair beat a retreat towards the house. Anthony stood for a minute looking after them, and, as he did so, he became aware of a man leaving the other side of a little copse of trees and hurrying away across the park. He felt almost sure that it was the same black-bearded stranger he had encountered that morning. Whilst he was hesitating whether to go after him or not the trees just ahead of him were parted and Mr. Hiram Fish stepped out into the open. He stared slightly when he saw Anthony.

“A peaceful afternoon, Mr. Fish? ” inquired the latter.

“I thank you, yes.”

Mr. Fish did not look as peaceful as usual, however. His face was flushed, and he was breathing hard as though he had been running. He drew out his watch and consulted it.

“I guess, ” he said softly, “it’s just about time for your British institution of afternoon tea.”

Closing his watch with a snap, Mr. Fish ambled gently away in the direction of the house.

Anthony stood in a brown study and awoke with a start to the fact that Superintendent Battle was standing beside him. Not the faintest sound had heralded his approach, and he seemed literally to have materialized from space.

“Where did you spring from? ” asked Anthony irritably.

With a slight jerk of his head, Battle indicated the little copse of trees behind them.

“It seems a popular spot this afternoon, ” remarked Anthony.

“You were very lost in thought, Mr. Cade? ”

“I was indeed. Do you know what I was doing, Battle? I was trying to put two and one and five and three together so as to make four. And it can’t be done, Battle, it simply can’t be done.”

“There’s difficulties that way, ” agreed the detective.

“But you’re just the man I wanted to see. Battle, I want to go away. Can it be done? ”

True to his creed, Superintendent Battle showed neither emotion nor surprise. His reply was easy and matter of fact.

“That depends, sir, as to where you want to go.”

“I’ll tell you exactly, Battle. I’ll lay my cards upon the table. I want to go to Dinard, to the Chateau of Madame la Comtesse de Breteuil. Can it be done? ”

“When do you want to go, Mr. Cade? ”

“Say to-morrow after the inquest. I could be back here by Sunday evening.”

“I see, ” said the superintendent, with peculiar solidity.

“Well, what about it? ”

“I’ve no objection, provided you go where you say you’re going, and come straight back here.”

“You’re a man in a thousand, Battle. Either you have taken an extraordinary fancy to me or else you’re extraordinarily deep. Which is it? ”

Superintendent Battle smiled a little, but did not answer.

“Well, well, ” said Anthony, “I expect you’ll take your precautions. Discreet minions of the law will follow my suspicious footsteps. So be it. But I do wish I knew what it was all about.”

“I don’t get you, Mr. Cade.”

“The Memoirs—what all the fuss is about. Were they only Memoirs? Or have you got something up your sleeve? ”

Battle smiled again.

“Take it like this. I’m doing you a favour because you’ve made a favourable impression on me, Mr. Cade. I’d like you to work in with me over this case. The amateur and the professional, they go well together. The one has the intimacy, so to speak, and the other the experience.”

“Well, ” said Anthony slowly, “I don’t mind admitting that I’ve always wanted to try my hand at unravelling a murder mystery.”

“Any ideas about the case at all, Mr. Cade? ”

“Plenty of them, ” said Anthony. “But they’re mostly questions.”

“As, for instance? ”

“Who steps into the murdered Michael’s shoes? It seems to me that that is important? ”

A rather wry smile came over Superintendent Battle’s face.

“I wondered if you’d think of that, sir. Prince Nicolas Obolovitch is the next heir—first cousin of this gentleman.”

“And where is he at the present moment? ” asked Anthony, turning away to light a cigarette. “Don’t tell me you don’t know, Battle, because I shan’t believe you.”

“We’ve reason to believe that he’s in the United States. He was until quite lately, at all events. Raising money on his expectations.”

Anthony gave vent to a surprised whistle.

“I get you, ” said Anthony. “Michael was backed by England, Nicholas by America. In both countries a group of financiers are anxious to obtain the oil concessions. The Loyalist party adopted Michael as their candidate—now they’ll have to look elsewhere. Gnashing of teeth on the part of Isaacstein and Co. and Mr. George Lomax. Rejoicings in Wall Street. Am I right? ”

“You’re not far off, ” said Superintendent Battle.

“H’m! ” said Anthony. “I almost dare swear that I know what you were doing in that copse.”

The detective smiled, but made no reply.

“International politics are very fascinating, ” said Anthony, “but I fear I must leave you. I have an appointment in the schoolroom.”

He strode briskly away towards the house. Inquiries of the dignified Tredwell showed him the way to the schoolroom. He tapped on the door and entered, to be greeted by squeals of joy.

Guggle and Winkle immediately rushed at him and bore him in triumph to be introduced to Mademoiselle.

For the first time, Anthony felt a qualm. Mademoiselle Brun was a small, middle-aged woman with a sallow face, pepper and salt hair, and a budding moustache!

As the notorious foreign adventuress she did not fit into the picture at all.

“I believe, ” said Anthony to himself, “I’m making the most utter fool of myself. Never mind, I must go through with it now.”

He was extremely pleasant to Mademoiselle, and she, on her part, was evidently delighted to have a good-looking young man invade her schoolroom. The meal was a great success.

But that evening, alone in the charming bedchamber that had been allotted to him, Anthony shook his head several times.

“I’m wrong, ” he said to himself. “For the second time, I’m wrong. Somehow or other, I can’t get the hang of this thing.”

He stopped in his pacing of the floor.

“What the devil——” began Anthony.

The door was being softly opened. In another minute a man had slipped into the room, and stood deferentially by the door.

He was a big fair man, squarely built, with high Slavonic cheek-bones, and dreamy fanatic eyes.

“Who the devil are you? ” asked Anthony, staring at him.

The man replied in perfect English.

“I am Boris Anchoukoff.”

“Prince Michael’s servant, eh? ”

“That is so. I served my master. He is dead. Now I serve you.”

“It’s very kind of you, ” said Anthony. “But I don’t happen to want a valet.”

“You are my master now. I will serve you faithfully.”

“Yes—but—look here—I don’t need a valet. I can’t afford one.”

Boris Anchoukoff looked at him with a touch of scorn.

“I do not ask for money. I served my master. So will I serve you—to the death! ”

Stepping quickly forward, he dropped on one knee, caught Anthony’s hand and placed it on his forehead. Then he rose swiftly and left the room as suddenly as he had come.

Anthony stared after him, his face a picture of astonishment.

“That’s damned odd, ” he said to himself. “A faithful sort of dog. Curious the instincts these fellows have.”

He rose and paced up and down.

“All the same, ” he muttered, “it’s awkward—damned awkward—just at present.”

A Midnight Adventure

The inquest took place on the following morning. It was extraordinarily unlike the inquests as pictured in sensational fiction. It satisfied even George Lomax in its rigid suppression of all interesting details. Superintendent Battle and the Coroner, working together with the support of the Chief Constable, had reduced the proceedings to the lowest level of boredom.

Immediately after the inquest, Anthony took an unostentatious departure.

His departure was the one bright spot in the day for Bill Eversleigh. George Lomax, obsessed with the fear that something damaging to his Department might leak out, had been exceedingly trying. Miss Oscar and Bill had been in constant attendance. Everything useful and interesting had been done by Miss Oscar. Bill’s part had been to run to and fro with countless messages, to decode telegrams, and to listen by the hour to George repeating himself.

It was a completely exhausted young man who retired to bed on Saturday night. He had had practically no chance to talk to Virginia all day, owing to George’s exactions, and he felt injured and ill-used. Thank goodness, that Colonial fellow had taken himself off. He had monopolized far too much of Virginia’s society anyway. And of course if George Lomax went on making an ass of himself like this—— His mind seething with resentment, Bill fell asleep. And, in dreams, came consolation. For he dreamt of Virginia.

It was an heroic dream, a dream of burning timbers in which he played the part of the gallant rescuer. He brought down Virginia from the topmost story in his arms. She was unconscious. He laid her on the grass. Then he went off to find a packet of sandwiches. It was most important that he should find that packet of sandwiches. George had it, but instead of giving it up to Bill, he began to dictate telegrams. They were now in the vestry of a church, and any minute Virginia might arrive to be married to him. Horror! He was wearing pyjamas. He must get home at once and find his proper clothes. He rushed out to the car. The car would not start. No petrol in the tank! He was getting desperate. And then a big General ’bus drew up and Virginia got out of it on the arm of the bald headed Baron. She was deliciously cool, and exquisitely dressed in grey. She came over to him and shook him by the shoulders playfully. “Bill, ” she said. “Oh, Bill.” She shook him harder. “Bill, ” she said. “Wake up. Oh, do wake up! ”

Very dazed, Bill woke up. He was in his bedroom at Chimneys. But part of the dream was with him still. Virginia was leaning over him, and was repeating the same words with variations.

“Wake up, Bill. Oh, do wake up. Bill.”

“Hullo! ” said Bill, sitting up in bed. “What’s the matter? ”

Virginia gave a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness. I thought you’d never wake up. I’ve been shaking you and shaking you. Are you properly awake now? ”

“I think so, ” said Bill doubtfully.

“You great lump, ” said Virginia. “The trouble I’ve had! My arms are aching.”

“These insults are uncalled for, ” said Bill, with dignity. “Let me say, Virginia, that I consider your conduct most unbecoming. Not at all that of a pure young widow.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Bill. Things are happening.”

“What kind of things? ”

“Queer things. In the Council Chamber. I thought I heard a door bang somewhere, and I came down to see. And then saw a light in the Council Chamber. I crept along the passage, and peeped through the crack of the door. I couldn’t see much, but what I could see was so extraordinary that I felt I must see more. And then, all of a sudden, I felt that I should like a nice, big, strong man with me. And you were the nicest and biggest and strongest man I could think of, so I came in and tried to wake you up quietly. But I’ve been ages doing it.”

“I see, ” said Bill. “And what do you want me to do now? Get up and tackle the burglars? ”

Virginia wrinkled her brows.

“I’m not sure that they are burglars. Bill, it’s very queer—— But don’t let’s waste time talking. Get up.”

Bill slipped obediently out of bed.

“Wait while I don a pair of boots—the big ones with nails in them. However big and strong I am, I’m not going to tackle hardened criminals with bare feet.”

“I like your pyjamas, Bill, ” said Virginia dreamily. “Brightness without vulgarity.”

“While we’re on the subject, ” remarked Bill, reaching for his second boot, “I like that thingummybob of yours. It’s a pretty shade of green. What do you call it? It’s not just a dressing-gown, is it? ”

“It’s a _négligé_” said Virginia. “I’m glad you’ve led such a pure life, Bill.”

“I haven’t, ” said Bill indignantly.

“You’ve just betrayed the fact. You’re very nice, Bill, and I like you. I dare say that to-morrow morning—say about ten o’clock, a good safe hour for not unduly exciting the emotions—I might even kiss you.”

“I always think these things are best carried out on the spur of the moment, ” suggested Bill.

“We’ve other fish to fry, ” said Virginia. “If you don’t want to put on a gas mask and a shirt of chain mail, shall we start? ”

“I’m ready, ” said Bill.

He wriggled into a lurid silk dressing-gown, and picked up a poker.

“The orthodox weapon, ” he observed.

“Come on, ” said Virginia, “and don’t make a noise.”

They crept out of the room and along the corridor, and then down the wide double staircase. Virginia frowned as they reached the bottom of it.

“Those boots of yours aren’t exactly domes of silence, are they, Bill? ”

“Nails will be nails, ” said Bill. “I’m doing my best.”

“You’ll have to take them off, ” said Virginia firmly.

Bill groaned.

“You can carry them in your hand. I want to see if you can make out what’s going on in the Council Chamber. Bill, it’s awfully mysterious. Why should burglars take a man in armour to pieces? ”

“Well, I suppose they can’t take him away whole very well. They disarticulate him, and pack him neatly.”

Virginia shook her head, dissatisfied.

“What should they want to steal a mouldy old suit of armour for? Why, Chimneys is full of treasures that are much easier to take away.”

Bill shook his head.

“How many of them are there? ” he asked, taking a firmer grip of his poker.

“I couldn’t see properly. You know what a keyhole is. And they only had a flashlight.”

“I expect they’ve gone by now, ” said Bill hopefully.

He sat down on the bottom stair and drew off his boots. Then, holding them in his hand, he crept along the passage that led to the Council Chamber, Virginia close behind him. They halted outside the massive oak door. All was silent within, but suddenly Virginia pressed his arm, and he nodded. A bright light had shown for a minute through the keyhole.

Bill went down on his knees, and applied his eye to the orifice. What he saw was confusing in the extreme. The scene of the drama that was being enacted inside was evidently just to the left, out of his line of vision. A subdued chink every now and then seemed to point to the fact that the invaders were still dealing with the figure in armour. There were two of these, Bill remembered. They stood together by the wall just under the Holbein portrait. The light of the electric torch was evidently being directed upon the operations in progress. It left the rest of the room nearly in darkness. Once a figure flitted across Bill’s line of vision, but there was not sufficient light to distinguish anything about it. It might have been that of a man or a woman. In a minute or two it flitted back again and then the subdued chinking sounded again. Presently there came a new sound, a faint tap-tap as of knuckles on wood.

Bill sat back on his heels suddenly.

“What is it? ” whispered Virginia.

“Nothing. It’s no good going on like this. We can’t see anything, and we can’t guess what they’re up to. I must go in and tackle them.”

He drew on his boots and stood up.

“Now, Virginia, listen to me. We’ll open the door as softly as possible. You know where the switch of the electric light is? ”

“Yes, just by the door.”

“I don’t think there are more than two of them. There may be only one. I want to get well into the room. Then, when I say ‘Go’ I want you to switch on the lights. Do you understand? ”

“Perfectly.”

“And don’t scream or faint or anything. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“My hero! ” murmured Virginia.

Bill peered at her suspiciously through the darkness. He heard a faint sound which might have been either a sob or a laugh. Then he grasped the poker firmly and rose to his feet. He felt that he was fully alive to the situation.

Very softly he turned the handle of the door. It yielded and swung gently inwards. Bill felt Virginia close beside him. Together they moved noiselessly into the room.

At the farther end of the room, the torch was playing upon the Holbein picture. Silhouetted against it was the figure of a man, standing on a chair and gently tapping on the panelling! His back, of course, was to them, and he merely loomed up as a monstrous shadow.

What more they might have seen cannot be told, for at that moment Bill’s nails squeaked upon the parquet floor. The man swung round, directing the powerful torch full upon them and almost dazzling them with the sudden glare.

Bill did not hesitate.

“Go, ” he roared to Virginia, and sprang for his man, as she obediently pressed down the switch of the electric lights.

The big chandelier should have been flooded with light; but, instead, all that happened was the click of the switch. The room remained in darkness.

Virginia heard Bill curse freely. The next minute the air was filled with panting, scuffling sounds. The torch had fallen to the ground and extinguished itself in the fall. There was the sound of a desperate struggle going on in the darkness, but as to who was getting the better of it, and indeed as to who was taking part in it, Virginia had no idea. Had there been anyone else in the room besides the man who was tapping the panelling? There might have been. Their glimpse had been only a momentary one.

Virginia felt paralysed. She hardly knew what to do. She dared not try and join in the struggle. To do so might hamper and not aid Bill. Her one idea was to stay in the doorway, so that anyone trying to escape should not leave the room that way. At the same time, she disobeyed Bill’s express instructions and screamed loudly and repeatedly for help.

She heard doors opening upstairs, and a sudden gleam of light from the hall and the big staircase. If only Bill could hold his man until help came.

But at that minute there was a final terrific upheaval. They must have crashed into one of the figures in armour, for it fell to the ground with a deafening noise. Virginia saw dimly a figure springing for the window, and at the same time heard Bill cursing and disengaging himself from fragments of armour.

For the first time, she left her post, and rushed wildly for the figure at the window. But the window was already unlatched. The intruder had no need to stop and fumble for it. He sprang out and raced away down the terrace and round the corner of the house. Virginia raced after him. She was young and athletic, and she turned the corner of the terrace not many seconds after her quarry.

But there she ran headlong into the arms of a man who was emerging from a small side door. It was Mr. Hiram P. Fish.

“Gee! It’s a lady, ” he exclaimed. “Why, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Revel. I took you for one of the thugs fleeing from justice.”

“He’s just passed this way, ” cried Virginia breathlessly. “Can’t we catch him? ”

But, even as she spoke, she knew it was too late. The man must have gained the park by now, and it was a dark night with no moon. She retraced her steps to the Council Chamber, Mr. Fish by her side, discoursing in a soothing monotone upon the habits of burglars in general, of which he seemed to have a wide experience.

Lord Caterham, Bundle, and various frightened servants were standing in the doorway of the Council Chamber.

“What the devil’s the matter? ” asked Bundle. “Is it burglars? What are you and Mr. Fish doing, Virginia? Taking a midnight stroll? ”

Virginia explained the events of the evening.

“How frightfully exciting, ” commented Bundle. “You don’t usually get a murder and a burglary crowded into one week-end. What’s the matter with the lights in here? They’re all right everywhere else.”

That mystery was soon explained. The bulbs had simply been removed and laid in a row against the wall. Mounted on a pair of steps, the dignified Tredwell, dignified even in undress, restored illumination to the stricken apartment.

“If I am not mistaken, ” said Lord Caterham in his sad voice as he looked around him, “this room has recently been the centre of somewhat violent activity.”

There was some justice in the remark. Everything that could have been knocked over had been knocked over. The floor was littered with splintered chairs, broken china, and fragments of armour.

“How many of them were there? ” asked Bundle. “It seems to have been a desperate fight.”

“Only one, I think, ” said Virginia. But, even as she spoke, she hesitated a little. Certainly only one person—a man—had passed out through the window. But as she had rushed after him, she had had a vague impression of a rustle somewhere close at hand. If so, the second occupant of the room could have escaped through the door. Perhaps, though, the rustle had been an effect of her own imagination.

Bill appeared suddenly at the window. He was out of breath and panting hard.

“Damn the fellow! ” he exclaimed wrathfully. “He’s escaped. I’ve been hunting all over the place. Not a sign of him.”

“Cheer up, Bill, ” said Virginia, “better luck next time.”

“Well, ” said Lord Caterham, “what do you think we’d better do now? Go back to bed? I can’t get hold of Badgworthy at this time of night. Tredwell, you know the sort of thing that’s necessary. Just see to it, will you? ”

“Very good, my lord.”

With a sigh of relief, Lord Caterham prepared to retreat.

“That beggar, Isaacstein, sleeps soundly, ” he remarked, with a touch of envy. “You’d have thought all this row would have brought him down.” He looked across at Mr. Fish. “You found time to dress, I see, ” he added.

“I flung on a few articles of clothing, yes, ” admitted the American.

“Very sensible of you, ” said Lord Caterham. “Damned chilly things, pyjamas.”

He yawned. In a rather depressed mood, the house party retired to bed.

Second Midnight Adventure

The first person that Anthony saw as he alighted from his train on the following afternoon was Superintendent Battle. His face broke into a smile.

“I’ve returned according to contract, ” he remarked. “Did you come down here to assure yourself of the fact? ”

Battle shook his head.

“I wasn’t worrying about that, Mr. Cade. I happen to be going to London, that’s all.”

“You have such a trustful nature, Battle.”

“Do you think so, sir? ”

“No. I think you’re deep—very deep. Still waters, you know, and all that sort of thing. So you’re going to London? ”

“I am, Mr. Cade.”

“I wonder why.”

The detective did not reply.

“You’re so chatty, ” remarked Anthony. “That’s what I like about you.”

A far-off twinkle showed in Battle’s eyes.

“What about your own little job, Mr. Cade? ” he inquired. “How did that go off? ”

“I’ve drawn blank, Battle. For the second time I’ve been proved hopelessly wrong. Galling, isn’t it? ”

“What was the idea, sir, if I may ask? ”

“I suspected the French governess, Battle. A: Upon the grounds of her being the most unlikely person, according to the canons of the best fiction. B: Because there was a light in her room on the night of the tragedy.”

“That wasn’t much to go upon.”

“You are quite right. It was not. But I discovered that she had only been here a short time, and I also found a suspicious Frenchman spying round the place. You know all about him, I suppose? ”

“You mean the man who calls himself M. Chelles? Staying at the _Cricketers_? A traveller in silk.”

“That’s it, is it? What about him? What does Scotland Yard think? ”

“His actions have been suspicious, ” said Superintendent Battle expressionlessly.

“Very suspicious, I should say. Well, I put two and two together. French governess in the house, French stranger outside. I decided that they were in league together, and I hurried off to interview the lady with whom Mademoiselle Brun had lived for the last ten years. I was fully prepared to find that she had never heard of any such person as Mademoiselle Brun, but I was wrong, Battle. Mademoiselle is the genuine article.”

Battle nodded.

“I must admit, ” said Anthony, “that as soon as I spoke to her I had an uneasy conviction that I was barking up the wrong tree. She seemed so absolutely the governess.”

Again Battle nodded.

“All the same, Mr. Cade, you can’t always go by that. Women especially can do a lot with make up. I’ve seen quite a pretty girl with the color of her hair altered, a sallow complexion stain, slightly reddened eyelids and, most efficacious of all, dowdy clothes, who would fail to be identified by nine people out of ten who had seen her in her former character. Men haven’t got quite the same pull. You can do something with the eyebrows, and of course different sets of false teeth alter the whole expression. But there are always the ears—there’s an extraordinary lot of character in ears, Mr. Cade.”

“Don’t look so hard at mine, Battle, ” complained Anthony. “You make me quite nervous.”

“I’m not talking of false beard and grease paint, ” continued the superintendent. “That’s only for books. No, there are very few men who can escape identification and put it over on you. In fact there’s only one man I know who has a positive genius for impersonation. King Victor. Ever heard of King Victor, Mr. Cade? ”

There was something so sharp and sudden about the way the detective put the question that Anthony half checked the words that were rising to his lips.

“King Victor? ” he said reflectively instead. “Somehow, I seem to have heard the name.”

“One of the most celebrated jewel thieves in the world. Irish father, French mother. Can speak five languages at least. He’s been serving a sentence, but his time was up a few months ago.”

“Really? And where is he supposed to be now? ”

“Well, Mr. Cade, that’s what we’d rather like to know.”

“The plot thickens, ” said Anthony lightly. “No chance of his turning up here, is there? But I suppose he wouldn’t be interested in political Memoirs—only in jewels.”

“There’s no saying, ” said Superintendent Battle. “For all we know, he may be here already.”

“Disguised as the second footman? Splendid. You’ll recognize him by his ears and cover yourself with glory.”

“Quite fond of your little joke, aren’t you, Mr. Cade? By the way, what do you think of that curious business at Staines? ”

“Staines? ” said Anthony. “What’s been happening at Staines? ”

“It was in Saturday’s papers. I thought you might have seen about it. Man found by the roadside shot. A foreigner. It was in the papers again to-day, of course.”

“I did see something about it, ” said Anthony carelessly. “Not suicide, apparently.”

“No. There was no weapon. As yet the man hasn’t been identified.”

“You seem very interested, ” said Anthony, smiling. “No connection with Prince Michael’s death, is there? ”

His hand was quite steady. So were his eyes. Was it his fancy that Superintendent Battle was looking at him with peculiar intentness?

“Seems to be quite an epidemic of that sort of thing, ” said Battle. “But, well, I dare say there’s nothing in it.”

He turned away, beckoning to a porter as the London train came thundering in. Anthony drew a faint sigh of relief.

He strolled across the park in an unusually thoughtful mood. He purposely chose to approach the house from the same direction as that from which he had come on the fateful Thursday night, and as he drew near to it he looked up at the windows cudgelling his brains to make sure of the one where he had seen the light. Was he quite sure that it was the second from the end?

And, doing so, he made a discovery. There was an angle at the corner of the house in which was a window set farther back. Standing on one spot, you counted this window as the first, and the first one built out over the Council Chamber as the second, but move a few yards to the right and the part built out over the Council Chamber appeared to be the end of the house. The first window was invisible, and the two windows of the rooms over the Council Chamber would have appeared the first and second from the end. Where exactly had he been standing when he had seen the light flash up?

Anthony found the question very hard to determine. A matter of a yard or so made all the difference. But one point was made abundantly clear. It was quite possible that he had been mistaken in describing the light as occurring in the second room from the end. It might equally well have been the _third_.

Now who occupied the third room? Anthony was determined to find that out as soon as possible. Fortune favoured him. In the hall Tredwell had just set the massive silver urn in its place on the tea tray. Nobody else was there.

“Hullo, Tredwell, ” said Anthony. “I wanted to ask you something. Who has the third room from the end on the West side? Over the Council Chamber, I mean.”

Tredwell reflected for a minute or two.

“That would be the American gentleman’s room, sir. Mr. Fish.”

“Oh, is it? Thank you.”

“Not at all, sir.”

Tredwell prepared to depart, then paused. The desire to be the first to impart news makes even pontifical butlers human.

“Perhaps you have heard, sir, of what occurred last night? ”

“Not a word, ” said Anthony. “What did occur last night? ”

“An attempt at robbery, sir! ”

“Not really? Was anything taken? ”

“No, sir. The thieves were dismantling the suits of armour in the Council Chamber when they were surprised and forced to flee. Unfortunately they got clear away.”

“That’s very extraordinary, ” said Anthony. “The Council Chamber again. Did they break in that way? ”

“It is supposed, sir, that they forced the window.”

Satisfied with the interest his information had aroused Tredwell resumed his retreat, but brought up short with a dignified apology.

“I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t hear you come in, and I didn’t know you were standing just behind me.”

Mr. Isaacstein who had been the victim of the impact waved his hand in a friendly fashion.

“No harm done, my good fellow. I assure you no harm done.”

Tredwell retired looking contemptuous, and Isaacstein came forward and dropped into an easy-chair.

“Hullo, Cade, so you’re back again. Been hearing all about last night’s little show? ”

“Yes, ” said Anthony. “Rather an exciting week-end, isn’t it? ”

“I should imagine that last night was the work of local men, ” said Isaacstein. “It seems a clumsy, amateurish affair.”

“Is there anyone about here who collects armour? ” asked Anthony. “It seems a curious thing to select.”

“Very curious, ” agreed Mr. Isaacstein. He paused a minute, and then said slowly: “The whole position here is very unfortunate.”

There was something almost menacing in his tone.

“I don’t quite understand, ” said Anthony.

“Why are we all being kept here in this way? The inquest was over yesterday. The Prince’s body will be removed to London where it is being given out that he died of heart failure. And still nobody is allowed to leave the house. Mr. Lomax knows no more than I do. He refers me to Superintendent Battle.”

“Superintendent Battle has something up his sleeve, ” said Anthony thoughtfully. “And it seems the essence of his plan that nobody should leave.”

“But, excuse me, Mr. Cade, you have been away.”

“With a string tied to my leg. I’ve no doubt that I was shadowed the whole time. I shouldn’t have been given a chance of disposing of the revolver or anything of that kind.”

“Ah, the revolver, ” said Isaacstein thoughtfully. “That has not yet been found, I think? ”

“Not yet.”

“Possibly thrown into the lake in passing.”

“Very possibly.”

“Where is Superintendent Battle? I have not seen him this afternoon.”

“He’s gone to London. I met him at the station.”

“Gone to London? Really? Did he say when he would be back? ”

“Early to-morrow, so I understood.”

Virginia came in with Lord Caterham and Mr. Fish. She smiled a welcome at Anthony.

“So you’re back, Mr. Cade. Have you heard all about our adventures last night? ”

“Why, trooly, Mr. Cade, ” said Hiram Fish. “It was a night of strenuous excitement. Did you hear that I mistook Mrs. Revel for one of the thugs? ”

“And in the meantime, ” said Anthony, “the thug——? ”

“Got clear away, ” said Mr. Fish mournfully.

“Do pour out, ” said Lord Caterham to Virginia. “I don’t know where Bundle is.”

Virginia officiated. Then she came and sat down near Anthony.

“Come to the boat-house after tea, ” she said in a low voice. “Bill and I have got a lot to tell you.”

Then she joined lightly in the general conversation.

The meeting at the boat-house was duly held.

Virginia and Bill were bubbling over with their news. They agreed that a boat in the middle of the lake was the only safe place for confidential conversation. Having paddled out a sufficient distance, the full story of last night’s adventure was related to Anthony. Bill looked a little sulky. He wished Virginia would not insist on bringing this Colonial fellow into it.

“It’s very odd, ” said Anthony, when the story was finished. “What do you make of it? ” he asked Virginia.

“I think they were looking for something, ” she returned promptly. “The burglar idea is absurd.”

“They thought the something, whatever it was, might be concealed in the suits of armour, that’s clear enough. But why tap the panelling? That looks more as though they were looking for a secret staircase, or something of that kind.”

“There’s a Priest’s Hole at Chimneys, I know, ” said Virginia. “And I believe there’s a secret staircase as well. Lord Caterham would tell us all about it. What I want to know is, what can they have been looking for? ”

“It can’t be the Memoirs, ” said Anthony. “They’re a great bulky package. It must have been something small.”

“George knows, I expect, ” said Virginia. “I wonder whether I could get it out of him. All along I’ve felt there was something behind all this.”

“You say there was only one man, ” pursued Anthony, “but that there might possibly be another, as you thought you heard some one going towards the door as you sprang to the window.”

“The sound was very slight, ” said Virginia. “It might have been just my imagination.”

“That’s quite possible, but in case it wasn’t your imagination the second person must have been an inmate of the house. I wonder now——”

“What are you wondering at? ” asked Virginia.

“The thoroughness of Mr. Hiram Fish who dresses himself completely when he hears screams for help downstairs.”

“There’s something in that, ” agreed Virginia. “And then there’s Isaacstein who sleeps through it all. That’s suspicious too. Surely he couldn’t? ”

“There’s that fellow Boris, ” suggested Bill. “He looks an unmitigated ruffian. Michael’s servant, I mean.”

“Chimneys is full of suspicious characters, ” said Virginia. “I dare say the others are just as suspicious of us. I wish Superintendent Battle hadn’t gone to London. I think it’s rather stupid of him. By the way, Mr. Cade, I’ve seen that peculiar-looking Frenchman about once or twice, spying round the park.”

“It’s a mix up, ” confessed Anthony. “I’ve been away on a wild-goose chase. Made a thorough ass of myself. Look here, to me the whole question seems to resolve itself into this: Did the men find what they were looking for last night? ”

“Supposing they didn’t? ” said Virginia. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t, as a matter of fact.”

“Just this, I believe they’ll come again. They know, or they soon will know, that Battle’s in London. They’ll take the risk and come again to-night.”

“Do you really think so? ”

“It’s a chance. Now we three will form a little syndicate. Eversleigh and I will conceal ourselves with due precautions in the Council Chamber——”

“What about me? ” interrupted Virginia. “Don’t think you’re going to leave me out of it.”

“Listen to me, Virginia, ” said Bill. “This is man’s work——”

“Don’t be an idiot, Bill. I’m in on this. Don’t you make any mistake about it. The syndicate will keep watch to-night.”

It was settled thus, and the details of the plan were laid. After the party had retired to bed, first one and then another of the syndicate crept down. They were all armed with powerful electric torches, and in the pocket of Anthony’s coat lay a revolver.

Anthony had said that he believed another attempt to resume the search would be made. Nevertheless, he did not expect that the attempt would be made from outside. He believed that Virginia had been correct in her guess that some one had passed her in the dark the night before, and as he stood in the shadow of an old oak dresser it was towards the door and not the window that his eyes were directed. Virginia was crouching behind a figure in armour on the opposite wall, and Bill was by the window.

The minutes passed, at interminable length. One o’clock chimed, then the half-hour, then two, then another half-hour. Anthony felt stiff and cramped. He was coming slowly to the conclusion that he had been wrong. No attempt would be made to-night.

And then he stiffened suddenly, all his senses on the alert. He had heard a footstep on the terrace outside. Silence again, then a low scratching noise at the window. Suddenly it ceased, and the window swung open. A man stepped across the sill into the room.

He stood quite still for a moment, peering round as though listening. After a minute or two, seemingly satisfied, he switched on a torch he carried, and turned it rapidly round the room. Apparently he saw nothing unusual. The three watchers held their breath.

He went over to the same bit of panelled wall he had been examining the night before.

And then a terrible knowledge smote Bill. He was going to sneeze! The wild race through the dew-laden park the night before had given him a chill. All day he had sneezed intermittently. A sneeze was due now, and nothing on earth would stop it.

He adopted all the remedies he could think of. He pressed his upper lip, swallowed hard, threw back his head and looked at the ceiling. As a last resort he held his nose, and pinched it violently. It was of no avail. He sneezed.

A stifled, checked, emasculated sneeze, but a startling sound in the deadly quiet of the room.

The stranger sprang round, and in the same minute Anthony acted. He flashed on his torch, and jumped full for the stranger. In another minute they were down on the floor together.

“Lights, ” shouted Anthony.

Virginia was ready at the switch. The lights came on true and full to-night. Anthony was on top of his man, Bill leant down to give him a hand.

“And now, ” said Anthony, “let’s see who you are, my fine fellow.”

He rolled his victim over. It was the neat, dark-bearded stranger from the _Cricketers_.

“Very nice indeed, ” said an approving voice.

They all looked up startled. The bulky form of Superintendent Battle was standing in the open doorway.

“I thought you were in London, Superintendent Battle, ” said Anthony.

Battle’s eyes twinkled.

“Did you, sir? ” he said. “Well, I thought it would be a good thing if I was thought to be going.”

“And it has been, ” agreed Anthony, looking down at his prostrate foe.

To his surprise there was a slight smile on the stranger’s face.

“May I get up, gentlemen? ” he inquired. “You are three to one.”

Anthony kindly hauled him on to his legs. The stranger settled his coat, pulled up his collar, and directed a keen look at Battle.

“I demand pardon, ” he said, “but do I understand that you are a representative from Scotland Yard? ”

“That’s right, ” said Battle.

“Then I will present to you my credentials.” He smiled rather ruefully. “I would have been wise to do so before.”

He took some papers from his pocket and handed them to the Scotland Yard detective. At the same time, he turned back the lapel of his coat and showed something pinned there.

Battle gave an exclamation of astonishment. He looked through the papers and handed them back with a little bow.

“I’m sorry you’ve been man-handled, monsieur, ” he said, “but you brought it on yourself, you know.”

He smiled, noting the astonished expression on the faces of the other.

“This is a colleague we have been expecting for some time, ” he said. “M. Lemoine, of the Sûreté in Paris.”

Secret History

They all stared at the French detective, who smiled back at them.

“But yes, ” he said, “it is true.”

There was a pause for a general readjusting of ideas. Then Virginia turned to Battle.

“Do you know what I think, Superintendent Battle? ”

“What do you think, Mrs. Revel? ”

“I think the time has come to enlighten us a little.”

“To enlighten you? I don’t quite understand, Mrs. Revel.”

“Superintendent Battle, you understand perfectly. I dare say Mr. Lomax has hedged you about with recommendations of secrecy—George would, but surely it’s better to tell us than have us stumbling on the secret all by ourselves, and perhaps doing untold harm. M. Lemoine, don’t you agree with me? ”

“Madame, I agree with you entirely.”

“You can’t go on keeping things dark for ever, ” said Battle. “I’ve told Mr. Lomax so. Mr. Eversleigh is Mr. Lomax’s secretary, there’s no objection to his knowing what there is to know. As for Mr. Cade, he’s been brought into the thing willy-nilly, and I consider he’s a right to know where he stands. But——”

Battle paused.

“I know, ” said Virginia. “Women are so indiscreet! I’ve often heard George say so.”

Lemoine had been studying Virginia attentively. Now he turned to the Scotland Yard man.

“Did I hear you just now address Madame by the name of Revel? ”

“That is my name, ” said Virginia.

“Your husband was in the Diplomatic Service, was he not? And you were with him in Herzoslovakia just before the assassination of the late King and Queen.”

“Yes.”

Lemoine turned again.

“I think Madame has a right to hear the story. She is indirectly concerned. Moreover”—his eyes twinkled a little—“Madame’s reputation for discretion stands very high in Diplomatic circles.”

“I’m glad they give me a good character, ” said Virginia, laughing. “And I’m glad I’m not going to be left out of it.”

“What about refreshments? ” said Anthony. “Where does the conference take place? Here? ”

“If you please, sir, ” said Battle, “I’ve a fancy for not leaving this room until morning. You’ll see why when you’ve heard the story.”

“Then I’ll go and forage, ” said Anthony.

Bill went with him and they returned with a tray of glasses, siphons and other necessaries of life.

The augmented syndicate established itself comfortably in the corner by the window, being grouped round a long oak table.

“It’s understood, of course, ” said Battle, “that anything that’s said here is said in strict confidence. There must be no leakage. I’ve always felt it would come out one of these days. Gentlemen like Mr. Lomax who want everything hushed up take bigger risks than they think. The start of this business was just over seven years ago. There was a lot of what they call Reconstruction going on—especially in the Near East. There was a good deal going on in England, strictly on the Q.T. with that old gentleman, Count Stylptitch, pulling the strings. All the Balkan States were interested parties, and there were a lot of Royal Personages in England just then. I’m not going into details, but Something disappeared—disappeared in a way that seemed incredible unless you admitted two things—that the thief was a Royal Personage and that at the same time it was the work of a high-class professional. M. Lemoine here will tell you how that well might be.”

The Frenchman bowed courteously and took up the tale.

“It is possible that you in England may not even have heard of our famous and fantastic King Victor. What his real name is, no one knows, but he is a man of singular courage and daring, one who speaks five languages and is unequalled in the art of disguise. Though his father is known to have been either English or Irish, he himself has worked chiefly in Paris. It was there, nearly eight years ago, that he was carrying out a daring series of robberies and living under the name of Captain O’Neill.”

A faint exclamation escaped Virginia. M. Lemoine darted a keen glance at her.

“I think I understand what agitates Madame. You will see in a minute. Now we of the Sûreté had our suspicions that this Captain O’Neill was none other than ‘King Victor, ’ but we could not obtain the necessary proof. There was also in Paris at the time a clever young actress, Angèle Mory, of the Folies Bergères. For some time we had suspected that she was associated with the operations of King Victor. But again no proof was forthcoming.

“About that time, Paris was preparing for the visit of the young King Nicholas IV of Herzoslovakia. At the Sûreté we were given special instructions as to the course to be adopted to ensure the safety of His Majesty. In particular we were warned to superintend the activities of a certain Revolutionary organization which called itself the Comrades of the Red Hand. It is fairly certain now that the Comrades approached Angèle Mory and offered her a huge sum if she would aid them in their plans. Her part was to infatuate the young King, and decoy him to some spot agreed upon with them. Angèle Mory accepted the bribe and promised to perform her part.

“But the young lady was cleverer and more ambitious than her employers suspected. She succeeded in captivating the King who fell desperately in love with her and loaded her with jewels. It was then that she conceived the idea of being—not a King’s mistress, but a Queen! As every one knows, she realized her ambition. She was introduced into Herzoslovakia as the Countess Varaga Popoleffsky, an offshoot of the Romanoffs, and became eventually Queen Varaga of Herzoslovakia. Not bad for a little Parisian actress! I have always heard that she played the part extremely well. But her triumph was not to be long lived. The Comrades of the Red Hand, furious at her betrayal, twice attempted her life. Finally they worked up the country to such a pitch that a Revolution broke out in which both the King and Queen perished. Their bodies, horribly mutilated and hardly recognizable, were recovered, attesting to the fury of the populace against the low-born foreign Queen.

“Now, in all this, it seems certain that Queen Varaga still kept in with her confederate, King Victor. It is possible that the bold plan was his all along. What is known is that she continued to correspond with him, in a secret code, from the Court of Herzoslovakia. For safety the letters were written in English, and signed with the name of an English lady then at the Embassy. If any inquiry had been made, and the lady in question had denied her signature, it is possible that she would not have been believed, for the letters were those of a guilty woman to her lover. It was your name she used, Mrs. Revel.”

“I know, ” said Virginia. Her colour was coming and going unevenly. “So that is the truth of the letters! I have wondered and wondered.”

“What a blackguardly trick, ” cried Bill indignantly.

“The letters were addressed to Captain O’Neill at his rooms in Paris, and their principal purpose may have light shed upon it by a curious fact which came to light later. After the assassination of the King and Queen, many of the Crown Jewels which had fallen, of course, into the hands of the mob, found their way to Paris, and it was discovered that in nine cases out of ten the principal stones had been replaced by paste—and mind you, there were some very famous stones among the jewels of Herzoslovakia. So as a Queen, Angèle Mory still practised her former activities.

“You see now where we have arrived. Nicholas IV and Queen Varaga came to England and were the guests of the late Marquis of Caterham, then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. Herzoslovakia is a small country, but it could not be left out. Queen Varaga was necessarily received. And there we have a Royal Personage and at the same time an expert thief. There is also no doubt that the—er—substitute which was so wonderful as to deceive anyone but an expert could only have been fashioned by King Victor, and indeed the whole plan, in its daring and audacity, pointed to him as the author.”

“What happened? ” asked Virginia.

“Hushed up, ” said Superintendent Battle laconically. “Not a mention of it’s ever been made public to this day. We did all that could be done on the quiet—and that was a good deal more than you’d ever imagine, by the way. We’ve got methods of our own that would surprise. That jewel didn’t leave England with the Queen of Herzoslovakia—I can tell you that much. No, Her Majesty hid it somewhere—but where we’ve never been able to discover. But I shouldn’t wonder”—Superintendent Battle let his eyes wander gently round—“if it wasn’t somewhere in this room.”

Anthony leapt to his feet.

“What? After all these years? ” he cried incredulously. “Impossible.”

“You do not know the peculiar circumstances, monsieur, ” said the Frenchman quickly. “Only a fortnight later, the Revolution in Herzoslovakia broke out, and the King and Queen were murdered. Also, Captain O’Neill was arrested in Paris and sentenced on a minor charge. We hoped to find the packet of code letters in his house, but it appears that this had been stolen by some Herzoslovakian go-between. The man turned up in Herzoslovakia just before the Revolution, and then disappeared completely.”

“He probably went abroad, ” said Anthony thoughtfully. “To Africa as likely as not. And you bet he hung on to that packet. It was as good as a gold mine to him. It’s odd how things come about. They probably called him Dutch Pedro or something like that out there.”

He caught Superintendent Battle’s expressionless glance bent upon him, and smiled.

“It’s not really clairvoyance, Battle, ” he said, “though it sounds like it. I’ll tell you presently.”

“There is one thing you have not explained, ” said Virginia. “Where does this link up with the Memoirs? There must be a link, surely? ”

“Madame is very quick, ” said Lemoine approvingly. “Yes, there is a link. Count Stylptitch was also staying at Chimneys at the time.”

“So that he might have known about it? ”

“_Parfaitement._”

“And, of course, ” said Battle, “if he’s blurted it out in his precious Memoirs, the fat will be in the fire. Especially after the way the whole thing was hushed up.”

Anthony lit a cigarette.

“There’s no possibility of there being a clue in the Memoirs as to where the stone was hidden? ” he asked.

“Very unlikely, ” said Battle decisively. “He was never in with the Queen—opposed the marriage tooth and nail. She’s not likely to have taken him into her confidence.”

“I wasn’t suggesting such a thing for a minute, ” said Anthony. “But by all accounts he was a cunning old boy. Unknown to her, he may have discovered where she hid the jewel. In that case, what would he have done, do you think? ”

“Sat tight, ” said Battle, after a moment’s reflection.

“I agree, ” said the Frenchman. “It was a ticklish moment, you see. To return the stone anonymously would have presented great difficulties. Also, the knowledge of its whereabouts would give him great power—and he liked power, that strange old man. Not only did he hold the Queen in the hollow of his hand, but he had a powerful weapon to negotiate with at any time. It was not the only secret he possessed—oh, no! —he collected secrets like some men collect rare pieces of china. It is said that, once or twice before his death, he boasted to people of the things he could make public if the fancy took him. And once at least he declared that he intended to make some startling revelations in his Memoirs. Hence”—the Frenchman smiled rather dryly—“the general anxiety to get hold of them. Our own secret police intended to seize them, but the Count took the precaution to have them conveyed away before his death.”

“Still, there’s no real reason to believe that he knew this particular secret, ” said Battle.

“I beg your pardon, ” said Anthony quietly. “There are his own words.”

“What? ”

Both detectives stared at him as though unable to believe their ears.

“When Mr. McGrath gave me that manuscript to bring to England, he told me the circumstances of his one meeting with Count Stylptitch. It was in Paris. At some considerable risk to himself, Mr. McGrath rescued the Count from a band of Apaches. He was, I understand—shall we say a trifle—exhilarated? Being in that condition, he made two rather interesting remarks. One of them was to the effect that he knew where the Koh-i-noor was—a statement to which my friend paid very little attention. He also said that the gang in question were King Victor’s men. Taken together, those two remarks are very significant.”

“Good Lord, ” ejaculated Superintendent Battle, “I should say they were. Even the murder of Prince Michael wears a different aspect.”

“King Victor has never taken a life, ” the Frenchman reminded him.

“Supposing he were surprised when he was searching for the jewel? ”

“Is he in England, then? ” asked Anthony sharply. “You say that he was released a few months ago. Didn’t you keep track of him? ”

A rather rueful smile overspread the French detective’s face.

“We tried to, monsieur. But he is a devil, that man. He gave us the slip at once—at once. We thought, of course, that he would make straight for England. But no. He went—where do you think? ”

“Where? ” said Anthony.

He was staring intently at the Frenchman, and absent-mindedly his fingers played with a box of matches.

“To America. To the United States.”

“What? ”

There was sheer amazement in Anthony’s tone.

“Yes, and what do you think he called himself? What part do you think he played over there? The part of Prince Nicholas of Herzoslovakia.”

The match-box fell from Anthony’s hand, but his amazement was fully equalled by that of Battle.

“Impossible.”

“Not so, my friend. You, too, will get the news in the morning. It has been the most colossal bluff. As you know, Prince Nicholas was rumoured to have died in the Congo years ago. Our friend, King Victor, seizes on that—difficult to prove a death of that kind. He resurrects Prince Nicholas, and plays him to such purpose that he gets away with a tremendous haul of American dollars—all on account of the supposed oil concessions. But by a mere accident, he was unmasked, and had to leave the country hurriedly. This time he did come to England. And that is why I am here. Sooner or later he will come to Chimneys. That is, if he is not already here! ”

“You think—that? ”

“I think he was here the night Prince Michael died, and again last night.”

“It was another attempt, eh? ” said Battle.

“It was another attempt.”

“What has bothered me, ” continued Battle, “was wondering what had become of M. Lemoine here. I’d had word from Paris that he was on his way over to work with me, and I couldn’t make out why he hadn’t turned up.”

“I must indeed apologize, ” said Lemoine. “You see, I arrived on the morning after the murder. It occurred to me at once that it would be as well for me to study things from an unofficial standpoint without appearing officially as your colleague. I thought that great possibilities lay that way. I was, of course, aware that I was bound to be an object of suspicion, but that in a way furthered my plan since it would not put people I was after on their guard. I can assure you that I have seen a good deal that is interesting in the last two days.”

“But look here, ” said Bill, “what really did happen last night? ”

“I am afraid, ” said M. Lemoine, “that I gave you rather violent exercise.”

“It was you I chased then? ”

“Yes. I will recount things to you. I came up here to watch, convinced that the secret had to do with this room since the Prince had been killed here. I stood outside on the terrace. Presently I became aware that some one was moving about in this room. I could see the flash of a torch now and again. I tried the middle window and found it unlatched. Whether the man had entered that way earlier, or whether he had left it so as a blind in case he was disturbed, I do not know. Very gently, I pushed it back and slipped inside the room. Step by step I felt my way until I was in a spot where I could watch operations without likelihood of being discovered myself. The man himself I could not see clearly. His back was to me, of course, and he was silhouetted against the light of the torch so that his outline only could be seen. But his actions filled me with surprise. He took to pieces first one and then the other of those two suits of armour, examining each one piece by piece. When he had convinced himself that what he sought was not there, he began tapping the panelling of the wall under that picture. What he would have done next, I do not know. The interruption came. _You_ burst in——” He looked at Bill.

“Our well-meant interference was really rather a pity, ” said Virginia thoughtfully.

“In a sense, madame, it was. The man switched out his torch, and I, who had no wish as yet to be forced to reveal my identity, sprang for the window. I collided with the other two in the dark, and fell headlong. I sprang up and out through the window. Mr. Eversleigh, taking me for his assailant, followed.”

“I followed you first, ” said Virginia. “Bill was only second in the race.”

“And the other fellow had the sense to stay still and sneak out through the door. I wonder he didn’t meet the rescuing crowd.”

“That would present no difficulties, ” said Lemoine. “He would be a rescuer in advance of the rest, that was all.”

“Do you really think this Arsène Lupin fellow is actually among the household now? ” asked Bill, his eyes sparkling.

“Why not? ” said Lemoine. “He could pass perfectly as a servant. For all we may know, he may be Boris Anchoukoff, the trusted servant of the late Prince Michael.”

“He is an odd-looking bloke, ” agreed Bill.

But Anthony was smiling.

“That’s hardly worthy of you, M. Lemoine, ” he said gently.

The Frenchman smiled too.

“You’ve taken him on as your valet now, haven’t you, Mr. Cade? ” asked Superintendent Battle.

“Battle, I take off my hat to you. You know everything. But just as a matter of detail, he’s taken me on, not I him.”

“Why was that, I wonder, Mr. Cade? ”

“I don’t know, ” said Anthony lightly. “It’s a curious taste, but perhaps he may have liked my face. Or he may think I murdered his master and wish to establish himself in a handy position for executing revenge upon me.”

He rose and went over to the windows, pulling the curtains.

“Daylight, ” he said, with a slight yawn. “There won’t be any more excitements now.”

Lemoine rose also.

“I will leave you, ” he said. “We shall perhaps meet again later in the day.”

With a graceful bow to Virginia, he stepped out of the window.

“Bed, ” said Virginia, yawning. “It’s all been very exciting. Come on, Bill, go to bed like a good little boy. The breakfast table will see us not, I fear.”

Anthony stayed at the window looking after the retreating form of M. Lemoine.

“You wouldn’t think it, ” said Battle behind him, “but that’s supposed to be the cleverest detective in France.”

“I don’t know that I wouldn’t, ” said Anthony thoughtfully. “I rather think I would.”

“Well, ” said Battle, “he was right about the excitements of this night being over. By the way, do you remember my telling you about that man they’d found shot near Staines? ”

“Yes. Why? ”

“Nothing. They’ve identified him, that’s all. It seems he was called Giuseppe Manelli. He was a waiter at the Blitz in London. Curious, isn’t it? ”

Battle and Anthony Confer

Anthony said nothing. He continued to stare out of the window. Superintendent Battle looked for some time at his motionless back.

“Well, good night, sir, ” he said at last, and moved to the door.

Anthony stirred.

“Wait a minute, Battle.”

The superintendent halted obediently. Anthony left the window. He drew out a cigarette from his case and lighted it. Then, between two puffs of smoke, he said:

“You seem very interested in this business at Staines? ”

“I wouldn’t go as far as that, sir. It’s unusual, that’s all.”

“Do you think the man was shot where he was found, or do you think he was killed elsewhere and the body brought to that particular spot afterwards? ”

“I think he was shot somewhere else, and the body brought there in a car.”

“I think so too, ” said Anthony.

Something in the emphasis of his tone made the detective look up sharply.

“Any ideas of your own, sir? Do you know who brought him there? ”

“Yes, ” said Anthony. “I did.”

He was a little annoyed at the absolutely unruffled calm preserved by the other.

“I must say you take these shocks very well, Battle, ” he remarked.

“‘Never display emotion.’ That was a rule that was given to me once, and I’ve found it very useful.”

“You live up to it, certainly, ” said Anthony. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen you ruffled. Well, do you want to hear the whole story? ”

“If you please, Mr. Cade.”

Anthony pulled up two of the chairs, both men sat down, and Anthony recounted the events of the preceding Thursday night.

Battle listened immovably. There was a far-off twinkle in his eyes as Anthony finished.

“You know, sir, ” he said, “You’ll get into trouble one of these days.”

“Then, for the second time, I’m not to be taken into custody? ”

“We always like to give a man plenty of rope, ” said Superintendent Battle.

“Very delicately put, ” said Anthony. “Without unduly stressing the end of the proverb.”

“What I can’t quite make out, sir, ” said Battle, “is why you decided to come across with this now? ”

“It’s rather difficult to explain, ” said Anthony. “You see, Battle, I’ve come to have really a very high opinion of your abilities. When the moment comes, you’re always there. Look at to-night. And it occurred to me that, in withholding this knowledge of mine, I was seriously cramping your style. You deserve to have access to all the facts. I’ve done what I could, and up to now I’ve made a mess of things. Until to-night, I couldn’t speak for Mrs. Revel’s sake. But now that those letters have been definitely proved to have nothing whatever to do with her, any idea of her complicity becomes absurd. Perhaps I advised her badly in the first place, but it struck me that her statement of having paid this man money to suppress the letters, simply as a whim, might take a bit of believing.”

“It might, by a jury, ” agreed Battle. “Juries never have any imagination.”

“But you accept it quite easily? ” said Anthony, looking curiously at him.

“Well, you see, Mr. Cade, most of my work has lain amongst these people. What they call the upper classes, I mean. You see, the majority of people are always wondering what the neighbours will think. But tramps and aristocrats don’t—they just do the first thing that comes into their heads, and they don’t bother to think what anyone thinks of them. I’m not meaning just the idle rich, the people who give big parties, and so on, I mean those that have had it born and bred in them for generations that nobody else’s opinion counts but their own. I’ve always found the upper classes the same—fearless, truthful and sometimes extraordinarily foolish.”

“This is a very interesting lecture, Battle. I suppose you’ll be writing your Reminiscences one of these days. They ought to be worth reading too.”

The detective acknowledged the suggestion with a smile, but said nothing.

“I’d rather like to ask you one question, ” continued Anthony. “Did you connect me at all with the Staines affair? I fancied, from your manner, that you did.”

“Quite right. I had a hunch that way. But nothing definite to go upon. Your manner was very good, if I may say so, Mr. Cade. You never overdid the carelessness.”

“I’m glad of that, ” said Anthony. “I’ve a feeling that ever since I met you you’ve been laying little traps for me. On the whole I’ve managed to avoid falling into them, but the strain has been acute.”

Battle smiled grimly.

“That’s how you get a crook in the end, sir. Keep him on the run, to and fro, turning and twisting. Sooner or later, his nerve goes, and you’ve got him.”

“You’re a cheerful fellow, Battle. When will you get me, I wonder? ”

“Plenty of rope, sir, ” quoted the superintendent, “plenty of rope.”

“In the meantime, ” said Anthony, “I am still the amateur assistant? ”

“That’s it, Mr. Cade.”

“Watson to your Sherlock, in fact? ”

“Detective stories are mostly bunkum, ” said Battle unemotionally. “But they amuse people, ” he added, as an afterthought. “And they’re useful sometimes.”

“In what way? ” asked Anthony curiously.

“They encourage the universal idea that the police are stupid. When we get an amateur crime, such as a murder, that’s very useful indeed.”

Anthony looked at him for some minutes in silence. Battle sat quite still, blinking now and then, with no expression whatsoever on his square placid face. Presently he rose.

“Not much good going to bed now, ” he observed. “As soon as he’s up, I want to have a few words with his lordship. Anyone who wants to leave the house can do so now. At the same time I should be much obliged to his lordship if he’ll extend an informal invitation to his guests to stay on. You’ll accept it, sir, if you please, and Mrs. Revel also.”

“Have you ever found the revolver? ” asked Anthony suddenly.

“You mean the one Prince Michael was shot with? No, I haven’t. Yet it must be in the house or grounds. I’ll take a hint from you, Mr. Cade, and send some boys up bird’s-nesting. If I could get hold of the revolver, we might get forward a bit. That, and the bundle of letters. You say that a letter with the heading, Chimneys, was amongst them? Depend upon it that was the last one written. The instructions for finding the diamond are written in code in that letter.”

“What’s your theory of the killing of Giuseppe? ” asked Anthony.

“I should say he was a regular thief, and that he was got hold of, either by King Victor or by the Comrades of the Red Hand, and employed by them. I shouldn’t wonder at all if the Comrades and King Victor aren’t working together. The organization has plenty of money and power, but it isn’t very strong in brains. Giuseppe’s task was to steal the Memoirs—they couldn’t have known that you had the letters—it’s a very odd coincidence that you should have, by the way.”

“I know, ” said Anthony. “It’s amazing when you come to think of it.”

“Giuseppe gets hold of the letters instead. Is at first vastly chagrined. Then sees the cutting from the paper and has the brilliant idea of turning them to account on his own by blackmailing the lady. He has, of course, no idea of their real significance. The Comrades find out what he is doing, believe that he is deliberately double crossing them, and decree his death. They’re very fond of executing traitors. It has a picturesque element which seems to appeal to them. What I can’t quite make out is the revolver with ‘Virginia’ engraved upon it. There’s too much finesse about that for the Comrades. As a rule, they enjoy plastering their Red Hand sign about—in order to strike terror into other would-be traitors. No, it looks to me as though King Victor had stepped in there. But what his motive was, I don’t know. It looks like a very deliberate attempt to saddle Mrs. Revel with the murder, and, on the surface, there doesn’t seem any particular point in that.”

“I had a theory, ” said Anthony. “But it didn’t work out according to plan.”

He told Battle of Virginia’s recognition of Michael. Battle nodded his head.

“Oh, yes, no doubt as to his identity. By the way, that old Baron has a very high opinion of you. He speaks of you in most enthusiastic terms.”

“That’s very kind of him, ” said Anthony. “Especially as I’ve given him full warning that I mean to do my utmost to get hold of the missing Memoirs before Wednesday next.”

“You’ll have a job to do that, ” said Battle.

“Y—es. You think so? I suppose King Victor and Co. have got the letters.”

Battle nodded.

“Pinched them off Giuseppe that day in Pont Street. Prettily planned piece of work, that. Yes, they’ve got ’em all right, and they’ve decoded them, and they know where to look.”

Both men were on the point of passing out of the room.

“In here? ” said Anthony, jerking his head back.

“Exactly, in here. But they haven’t found the prize yet, and they’re going to run a pretty risk trying to get it.”

“I suppose, ” said Anthony, “that you’ve got a plan in that subtle head of yours? ”

Battle returned no answer. He looked particularly stolid and unintelligent. Then, very slowly, he winked.

“Want my help? ” asked Anthony.

“I do. And I shall want some one else’s.”

“Who is that? ”

“Mrs. Revel’s. You may not have noticed it, Mr. Cade, but she’s a lady who has a particularly beguiling way with her.”

“I’ve noticed it all right, ” said Anthony.

He glanced at his watch.

“I’m inclined to agree with you about bed, Battle. A dip in the lake and a hearty breakfast will be far more to the point.”

He ran lightly upstairs to his bedroom. Whistling to himself, he discarded his evening clothes, and picked up a dressing-gown and a bath towel.

Then suddenly he stopped dead in front of the dressing-table, staring at the object that reposed demurely in front of the looking-glass.

For a moment he could not believe his eyes. He took it up, examined it closely. Yes, there was no mistake.

It was the bundle of letters signed Virginia Revel. They were intact. Not one was missing.

Anthony dropped into a chair, the letters in his hand.

“My brain must be cracking, ” he murmured. “I can’t understand a quarter of what is going on in this house. Why should the letters reappear like a damned conjuring trick? Who put them on my dressing-table? Why? ”

And to all these very pertinent questions he could find no satisfactory reply.

Mr. Isaacstein’s Suit-case

At ten o’clock that morning, Lord Caterham and his daughter were breakfasting. Bundle was looking very thoughtful.

“Father, ” she said at last.

Lord Caterham, absorbed in _The Times_, did not reply.

“Father, ” said Bundle again, more sharply.

Lord Caterham, torn from his interested perusal of forthcoming sales of rare books, looked up absent-mindedly.

“Eh? ” he said. “Did you speak? ”

“Yes. Who is it who’s had breakfast? ”

She nodded towards a place that had evidently been occupied. The rest were all expectant.

“Oh, what’s-his-name.”

“Fat Iky? ”

Bundle and her father had enough sympathy between them to comprehend each other’s somewhat misleading observations.

“That’s it.”

“Did I see you talking to the detective this morning before breakfast? ”

Lord Caterham sighed.

“Yes, he buttonholed me in the hall. I do think the hours before breakfast should be sacred. I shall have to go abroad. The strain on my nerves——”

Bundle interrupted unceremoniously.

“What did he say? ”

“Said every one who wanted to could clear out.”

“Well, ” said Bundle, “that’s all right. That’s what you’ve been wanting.”

“I know. But he didn’t leave it at that. He went on to say that nevertheless he wanted me to ask every one to stay on.”

“I don’t understand, ” said Bundle, wrinkling her nose.

“So confusing and contradictory, ” complained Lord Caterham. “And before breakfast too.”

“What did you say? ”

“Oh, I agreed, of course. It’s never any good arguing with these people. Especially before breakfast, ” continued Lord Caterham, reverting to his principal grievance.

“Who have you asked so far? ”

“Cade. He was up very early this morning. He’s going to stop on. I don’t mind that. I can’t quite make the fellow out; but I like him—I like him very much.”

“So does Virginia, ” said Bundle, drawing a pattern on the table with her fork.

“Eh? ”

“And so do I. But that doesn’t seem to matter.”

“And I asked Isaacstein, ” continued Lord Caterham.

“Well? ”

“But fortunately he’s got to go back to town. Don’t forget to order the car for the 10.40, by the way.”

“All right.”

“Now if I can only get rid of Fish too, ” continued Lord Caterham, his spirits rising.

“I thought you liked talking to him about your mouldy old books.”

“So I do, so I do. So I did, rather. But it gets monotonous when one finds that one is always doing all the talking. Fish is very interested, but he never volunteers any statements of his own.”

“It’s better than doing all the listening, ” said Bundle. “Like one does with George Lomax.”

Lord Caterham shuddered at the remembrance.

“George is all very well on platforms, ” said Bundle. “I’ve clapped him myself, though of course I know all the time that he’s talking balderdash. And anyway I’m a Socialist——”

“I know, my dear, I know, ” said Lord Caterham hastily.

“It’s all right, ” said Bundle. “I’m not going to bring politics into the house. That’s what George does—public speaking in private life. It ought to be abolished by Act of Parliament.”

“Quite so, ” said Lord Caterham.

“What about Virginia? ” asked Bundle. “Is she to be asked to stop on? ”

“Battle said everybody.”

“Says he firmly! Have you asked her to be my stepma yet? ”

“I don’t think it would be any good, ” said Lord Caterham mournfully. “Although she did call me a darling last night. But that’s the worst of these attractive young women with affectionate dispositions. They’ll say anything, and they mean absolutely nothing by it.”

“No, ” agreed Bundle. “It would have been much more hopeful if she’d thrown a boot at you or tried to bite you.”

“You modern young people seem to have such unpleasant ideas about love-making, ” said Lord Caterham plaintively.

“It comes from reading _The Sheik_, ” said Bundle. “Desert love. Throw her about, etc.”

“What is _The Sheik_? ” asked Lord Caterham simply. “Is it a poem? ”

Bundle looked at him with commiserating pity. Then she rose and kissed the top of his head.

“Dear old Daddy, ” she remarked, and sprang lightly out of the window.

Lord Caterham went back to the Sale Rooms.

He jumped when addressed suddenly by Mr. Hiram Fish, who had made his usual noiseless entry.

“Good morning, Lord Caterham.”

“Oh, good morning, ” said Lord Caterham. “Good morning. Nice day.”

“The weather is delightful, ” said Mr. Fish.

He helped himself to coffee. By way of food, he took a piece of dry toast.

“Do I hear correctly that the embargo is removed? ” he asked after a minute or two. “That we are all free to depart? ”

“Yes—er—yes, ” said Lord Caterham. “As a matter of fact, I hoped, I mean that I shall be delighted”—his conscience drove him on—“only too delighted if you will stay on for a little.”

“Why, Lord Caterham——”

“It’s been a beastly visit, I know, ” Lord Caterham hurried on. “Too bad. Shan’t blame you for wanting to run away.”

“You misjudge me, Lord Caterham. The associations have been painful, no one could deny that point. But the English country life, as lived in the mansions of the great, has a powerful attraction for me. I am interested in the study of those conditions. It is a thing we lack completely in America. I shall be only too delighted to accept your vurry kind invitation and stay on.”

“Oh, well, ” said Lord Caterham, “that’s that. Absolutely delighted, my dear fellow, absolutely delighted.”

Spurring himself on to a false geniality of manner, Lord Caterham murmured something about having to see his bailiff and escaped from the room.

In the hall, he saw Virginia just descending the staircase.

“Shall I take you into breakfast? ” asked Lord Caterham tenderly.

“I’ve had it in bed, thank you. I was frightfully sleepy this morning.”

She yawned.

“Had a bad night, perhaps? ”

“Not exactly a bad night. From one point of view decidedly a good night. Oh, Lord Caterham”—she slipped her hand inside his arm and gave it a squeeze—“I _am_ enjoying myself. You were a darling to ask me down.”

“You’ll stop on for a bit, then, won’t you? Battle is lifting the—the embargo, but I want you to stay particularly. So does Bundle.”

“Of course I’ll stay. It’s sweet of you to ask me.”

“Ah! ” said Lord Caterham.

He sighed.

“What is your secret sorrow? ” asked Virginia. “Has anyone bitten you? ”

“That’s just it, ” said Lord Caterham mournfully.

Virginia looked puzzled.

“You don’t feel, by any chance, that you want to throw a boot at me? No, I can see you don’t. Oh, well, it’s of no consequence.”

Lord Caterham drifted sadly away, and Virginia passed out through a side door into the garden.

She stood there for a moment, breathing in the crisp October air which was infinitely refreshing to one in her slightly jaded state.

She started a little to find Superintendent Battle at her elbow. The man seemed to have an extraordinary knack of appearing out of space without the least warning.

“Good morning, Mrs. Revel. Not too tired, I hope? ”

Virginia shook her head.

“It was a most exciting night, ” she said. “Well worth the loss of a little sleep. The only thing is, to-day seems a little dull after it.”

“There’s a nice shady place down under that cedar tree, ” remarked the superintendent. “Shall I take a chair down to it for you? ”

“If you think it’s the best thing for me to do, ” said Virginia solemnly.

“You’re very quick, Mrs. Revel. Yes, it’s quite true, I do want a word with you.”

He picked up a long wicker chair and carried it down the lawn. Virginia followed him with a cushion under her arm.

“Very dangerous place, that terrace, ” remarked the detective. “That is, if you want to have a private conversation.”

“I’m getting excited again, Superintendent Battle.”

“Oh, it’s nothing important.” He took out a big watch and glanced at it. “Half-past ten. I’m starting for Wyvvern Abbey in ten minutes to report to Mr. Lomax. Plenty of time. I only wanted to know if you could tell me a little more about Mr. Cade.”

“About Mr. Cade? ”

Virginia was startled.

“Yes, where you first met him, and how long you’ve known him and so forth.”

Battle’s manner was easy and pleasant enough. He even refrained from looking at her, and the fact that he did so made her vaguely uneasy.

“It’s more difficult than you think, ” she said at last. “He did me a great service once——”

Battle interrupted her.

“Before you go any further, Mrs. Revel, I’d just like to say something. Last night, after you and Mr. Eversleigh had gone to bed, Mr. Cade told me all about the letters and the man who was killed in your house.”

“He did? ” gasped Virginia.

“Yes, and very wisely too. It clears up a lot of misunderstanding. There’s only one thing he didn’t tell me—how long he had known you. Now I’ve a little idea of my own about that. You shall tell me if I’m right or wrong. I think that the day he came to your house in Pont Street was the first time you had ever seen him. Ah! I see I’m right. It was so.”

Virginia said nothing. For the first time she felt afraid of this stolid man with the expressionless face. She understood what Anthony had meant when he said there were no flies on Superintendent Battle.

“Has he ever told you anything about his life? ” the detective continued. “Before he was in South Africa, I mean. Canada? Or before that, the Sudan? Or about his boyhood? ”

Virginia merely shook her head.

“And yet I’d bet he’s got something worth telling. You can’t mistake the face of a man who’s led a life of daring and adventure. He could tell you some interesting tales if he cared to.”

“If you want to know about his past life, why don’t you cable to that friend of his, Mr. McGrath? ” Virginia asked.

“Oh, we have. But it seems he’s up country somewhere. Still, there’s no doubt Mr. Cade was in Bulawayo when he said he was. But I wondered what he’d been doing before he came to South Africa. He’d only had that job with Castle’s about a month.” He took out his watch again. “I must be off. The car will be waiting.”

Virginia watched him retreat to the house. But she did not move from her chair. She hoped that Anthony might appear and join her. Instead came Bill Eversleigh, with a prodigious yawn.

“Thank God, I’ve got a chance to speak to you at last, Virginia, ” he complained.

“Well, speak to me very gently, Bill darling, or I shall burst into tears.”

“Has some one been bullying you? ”

“Not exactly bullying me. Getting inside my mind and turning it inside out. I feel as though I’d been jumped on by an elephant.”

“Not Battle? ”

“Yes, Battle. He’s a terrible man really.”

“Well, never mind Battle. I say, Virginia, I do love you so awfully——”

“Not this morning, Bill. I’m not strong enough. Anyway, I’ve always told you the best people don’t propose before lunch.”

“Good Lord, ” said Bill. “I could propose to you before breakfast.”

Virginia shuddered.

“Bill, be sensible and intelligent for a minute. I want to ask your advice.”

“If you’d once make up your mind to it, and say you’d marry me, you’d feel miles better, I’m sure. Happier, you know, and more settled down.”

“Listen to me, Bill. Proposing to me is your _idée fixe_. All men propose when they’re bored and can’t think of anything to say. Remember my age and my widowed state, and go and make love to a pure young girl.”

“My darling Virginia—Oh, blast! here’s that French idiot bearing down on us.”

It was indeed M. Lemoine, black-bearded and correct of demeanour as ever.

“Good morning, madame. You are not fatigued, I trust? ”

“Not in the least.”

“That is excellent. Good morning, Mr. Eversleigh.”

“How would it be if we promenaded ourselves a little, the three of us? ” suggested the Frenchman.

“How about it, Bill? ” said Virginia.

“Oh, all right, ” said the unwilling young gentleman by her side.

He heaved himself up from the grass, and the three of them walked slowly along. Virginia between the two men. She was sensible at once of a strange undercurrent of excitement in the Frenchman, though she had no clue as to what caused it.

Soon, with her usual skill, she was putting him at his ease, asking him questions, listening to his answers, and gradually drawing him out. Presently he was telling them anecdotes of the famous King Victor. He talked well, albeit with a certain bitterness, as he described the various ways in which the detective bureau had been outwitted.

But all the time, despite the real absorption of Lemoine in his own narrative, Virginia had a feeling that he had some other object in view. Moreover, she judged that Lemoine, under cover of his story, was deliberately striking out his own course across the park. They were not just strolling idly. He was deliberately guiding them in a certain direction.

Suddenly, he broke off his story and looked round. They were standing just where the drive intersected the park before turning an abrupt corner by a clump of trees. Lemoine was staring at a vehicle approaching them from the direction of the house.

Virginia’s eyes followed his.

“It’s the luggage cart, ” she said, “taking Isaacstein’s luggage and his valet to the station.”

“Is that so? ” said Lemoine. He glanced down at his own watch and started. “A thousand pardons. I have been longer here than I meant—such charming company. Is it possible, do you think, that I might have a lift to the village? ”

He stepped out on to the drive, and signalled with his arm. The luggage cart stopped, and after a word or two of explanation Lemoine climbed in behind. He raised his hat politely to Virginia, and drove off.

The other two stood and watched the cart disappearing with puzzled expressions. Just as the cart swung round the bend, a suit-case fell off into the drive. The cart went on.

“Come on, ” said Virginia to Bill. “We’re going to see something interesting. That suit-case was thrown out.”

“Nobody’s noticed it, ” said Bill.

They ran down the drive towards the fallen piece of luggage. Just as they reached it, Lemoine came round the corner of the bend on foot. He was hot from walking fast.

“I was obliged to descend, ” he said pleasantly. “I found that I had left something behind.”

“This? ” said Bill, indicating the suit-case.

It was a handsome case of heavy pigskin, with the initials H. I. on it.

“What a pity! ” said Lemoine gently. “It must have fallen out. Shall we lift it from the road? ”

Without waiting for a reply, he picked up the suit-case, and carried it over to the belt of trees. He stooped over it, something flashed in his hand, and the lock slipped back.

He spoke, and his voice was totally different, quick and commanding.

“The car will be here in a minute, ” he said. “Is it in sight? ”

Virginia looked back towards the house.

“No.”

“Good.”

With deft fingers he tossed the things out of the suit-case. Gold-topped bottle, silk pyjamas, a variety of socks. Suddenly his whole figure stiffened. He caught up what appeared to be a bundle of silk underwear, and unrolled it rapidly.

A slight exclamation broke from Bill. In the centre of the bundle was a heavy revolver.

“I hear the horn, ” said Virginia.

Like lightning, Lemoine repacked the suit-case. The revolver he wrapped in a silk handkerchief of his own, and slipped into his pocket. He snapped the locks of the suit-case, and turned quickly to Bill.

“Take it. Madame will be with you. Stop the car, and explain that it fell off the luggage cart. Do not mention me.”

Bill stepped quickly down to the drive just as the big Lanchester limousine with Isaacstein inside it came round the corner. The chauffeur slowed down, and Bill swung the suit-case up to him.

“Fell off the luggage cart, ” he explained. “We happened to see it.”

He caught a momentary glimpse of a startled yellow face as the financier stared at him, and then the car swept on again.

They went back to Lemoine. He was standing with the revolver in his hand, and a look of gloating satisfaction in his face.

“A long shot, ” he said. “A very long shot. But it came off.”

The Red Signal

Superintendent Battle was standing in the library at Wyvvern Abbey.

George Lomax, seated before a desk overflowing with papers, was frowning portentously.

Superintendent Battle had opened proceedings by making a brief and business-like report. Since then, the conversation had lain almost entirely with George, and Battle had contented himself with making brief and usually monosyllabic replies to the other’s questions.

On the desk, in front of George, was the packet of letters Anthony had found on his dressing-table.

“I can’t understand it at all, ” said George irritably, as he picked up the packet. “They’re in code, you say? ”

“Just so, Mr. Lomax.”

“And where does he say he found them—on his dressing-table? ”

Battle repeated, word for word, Anthony Cade’s account of how he had come to regain possession of the letters.

“And he brought them at once to you? That was quite proper—quite proper. But who could have placed them in his room? ”

Battle shook his head.

“That’s the sort of thing you ought to know, ” complained George. “It sounds to me very fishy—very fishy indeed. What do we know about this man Cade anyway? He appears in a most mysterious manner—under highly suspicious circumstances—and we know nothing whatever about him. I may say that I, personally, don’t care for his manner at all. You’ve made inquiries about him, I suppose? ”

Superintendent Battle permitted himself a patient smile.

“We wired at once to South Africa, and his story has been confirmed on all points. He was in Bulawayo with Mr. McGrath at the time he stated. Previous to their meeting, he was employed by Messrs. Castle, the Tourist Agents.”

“Just what I should have expected, ” said George. “He has the kind of cheap assurance that succeeds in a certain type of employment. But about these letters—steps must be taken at once—at once——”

The great man puffed himself out and swelled importantly.

Superintendent Battle opened his mouth, but George forestalled him.

“There must be no delay. These letters must be decoded without any loss of time. Let me see, who is the man? There is a man—connected with the British Museum. Knows all there is to know about ciphers. Ran the department for us during the War. Where is Miss Oscar? She will know. Name something like Win—Win——”

“Professor Wynward, ” said Battle.

“Exactly. I remember perfectly now. He must be wired to, immediately.”

“I have done so, Mr. Lomax, an hour ago. He will arrive by the 12.10.”

“Oh, very good, very good. Thank Heaven, something is off my mind. I shall have to be in town to-day. You can get along without me, I suppose? ”

“I think so, sir.”

“Well, do your best, Battle, do your best. I am terribly rushed just at present.”

“Just so, sir.”

“By the way, why did not Mr. Eversleigh come over with you? ”

“He was still asleep, sir. We’ve been up all night, as I told you.”

“Oh, quite so. I am frequently up nearly the whole night myself. To do the work of thirty-six hours in twenty-four, that is my constant task! Send Mr. Eversleigh over at once when you get back, will you, Battle? ”

“I will give him your message, sir.”

“Thank you, Battle. I realize perfectly that you had to repose a certain amount of confidence in him. But do you think it was strictly necessary to take my cousin, Mrs. Revel, into your confidence also? ”

“In view of the name signed to those letters, I do, Mr. Lomax.”

“An amazing piece of effrontery, ” murmured George, his brow darkened as he looked at the bundle of letters. “I remember the late King of Herzoslovakia. A charming fellow, but weak—deplorably weak. A tool in the hands of an unscrupulous woman. Have you any theory as to how these letters came to be restored to Mr. Cade? ”

“It’s my opinion, ” said Battle, “that if people can’t get a thing one way—they try another.”

“I don’t quite follow you, ” said George.

“This crook, this King Victor, he’s well aware by now that the Council Chamber is watched. So he’ll let us have the letters, and let us do the decoding, and let us find the hiding-place. And then—trouble! But Lemoine and I between us will attend to that.”

“You’ve got a plan, eh? ”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’ve got a plan. But I’ve got an idea. It’s a very useful thing sometimes, an idea.”

Thereupon Superintendent Battle took his departure.

He had no intention of taking George any further into his confidence.

On the way back, he passed Anthony on the road and stopped.

“Going to give me a lift back to the house? ” asked Anthony. “That’s good.”

“Where have you been, Mr. Cade? ”

“Down to the station to inquire about trains.”

Battle raised his eyebrows.

“Thinking of leaving us again? ” he inquired.

“Not just at present, ” laughed Anthony. “By the way what’s upset Isaacstein? He arrived in the car just as I left, and he looked as though something had given him a nasty jolt.”

“Mr. Isaacstein? ”

“Yes.”

“I can’t say, I’m sure. I fancy it would take a good deal to jolt him.”

“So do I, ” agreed Anthony. “He’s quite one of the strong silent yellow men of finance.”

Suddenly Battle leant forward and touched the chauffeur on the shoulder.

“Stop, will you? And wait for me here.”

He jumped out of the car, much to Anthony’s surprise. But in a minute or two, the latter perceived M. Lemoine advancing to meet the English detective, and gathered that it was a signal from him which had attracted Battle’s attention.

There was a rapid colloquy between them, and then the superintendent returned to the car and jumped in again, biding the chauffeur drive on.

His expression had completely changed.

“They’ve found the revolver, ” he said suddenly and curtly.

“What? ”

Anthony gazed at him in great surprise.

“Where? ”

“In Isaacstein’s suit-case.”

“Oh, impossible! ”

“Nothing’s impossible, ” said Battle. “I ought to have remembered that.”

He sat perfectly still, tapping his knee with his hand.

“Who found it? ”

Battle jerked his head over his shoulder.

“Lemoine. Clever chap. They think no end of him at the Sûreté.”

“But doesn’t this upset all your ideas? ”

“No, ” said Superintendent Battle very slowly. “I can’t say it does. It was a bit of a surprise, I admit, at first. But it fits in very well with one idea of mine.”

“Which is? ”

But the superintendent branched off on to a totally different subject.

“I wonder if you’d mind finding Mr. Eversleigh for me, sir? There’s a message for him from Mr. Lomax. He’s to go over to the Abbey at once.”

“All right, ” said Anthony. The car had just drawn up at the great door. “He’s probably in bed still.”

“I think not, ” said the detective. “If you’ll look, you’ll see him walking under the trees with Mrs. Revel.”

“Wonderful eyes you have, haven’t you, Battle? ” said Anthony as he departed on his errand.

He delivered the message to Bill, who was duly disgusted.

“Damn it all, ” grumbled Bill to himself, as he strode off to the house, “why can’t Codders sometimes leave me alone? And why can’t these blasted Colonials stay in their Colonies? What do they want to come over here for, and pick out all the best girls? I’m fed to the teeth with everything.”

“Have you heard about the revolver? ” asked Virginia breathlessly, as Bill left them.

“Battle told me. Rather staggering, isn’t it? Isaacstein was in a frightful state yesterday to get away, but I thought it was just nerves. He’s about the one person I’d have pitched upon as being above suspicion. Can you see any motive for his wanting Prince Michael out of the way? ”

“It certainly doesn’t fit in, ” agreed Virginia thoughtfully.

“Nothing fits in anywhere, ” said Anthony discontentedly. “I rather fancied myself as an amateur detective to begin with, and so far all I’ve done is to clear the character of the French governess at vast trouble and some little expense.”

“Is that what you went to France for? ” inquired Virginia.

“Yes, I went to Dinard and had an interview with the Comtesse de Breteuil, awfully pleased with my own cleverness, and fully expecting to be told that no such person as Mademoiselle Brun had ever been heard of. Instead of which I was given to understand that the lady in question had been the mainstay of the household for the last seven years. So, unless the Comtesse is also a crook, that ingenious theory of mine falls to the ground.”

Virginia shook her head.

“Madame de Breteuil is quite above suspicion. I know her quite well, and I fancy I must have come across Mademoiselle at the chateau. I certainly know her face quite well—in that vague way one does know governesses and companions and people one sits opposite to in trains. It’s awful, but I never really look at them properly. Do you? ”

“Only if they’re exceptionally beautiful, ” admitted Anthony.

“Well, in this case——” she broke off. “What’s the matter? ”

Anthony was staring at a figure which detached itself from the clump of trees and stood there rigidly at attention. It was the Herzoslovakian, Boris.

“Excuse me, ” said Anthony to Virginia, “I must just speak to my dog a minute.”

He went across to where Boris was standing.

“What’s the matter? What do you want? ”

“Master, ” said Boris, bowing.

“Yes, that’s all very well, but you mustn’t keep following me about like this. It looks odd.”

Without a word, Boris produced a soiled scrap of paper, evidently torn from a letter, and handed it to Anthony.

“What’s this? ” said Anthony.

There was an address scrawled on the paper, nothing else.

“He dropped it, ” said Boris. “I bring it to the Master.”

“Who dropped it? ”

“The foreign gentleman.”

“But why bring it to me? ”

Boris looked at him reproachfully.

“Well, anyway, go away now, ” said Anthony. “I’m busy.”

Boris saluted, turned sharply on his heel, and marched away. Anthony rejoined Virginia, thrusting the piece of paper into his pocket.

“What did he want? ” she asked curiously. “And why do you call him your dog? ”

“Because he acts like one, ” said Anthony, answering the last question first. “He must have been a retriever in his last incarnation, I think. He’s just brought me a piece of a letter which he says the foreign gentleman dropped. I suppose he means Lemoine.”

“I suppose so, ” acquiesced Virginia.

“He’s always following me round, ” continued Anthony. “Just like a dog. Says next to nothing. Just looks at me with his big round eyes. I can’t make him out.”

“Perhaps he meant Isaacstein, ” suggested Virginia. “Isaacstein looks foreign enough, Heaven knows.”

“Isaacstein, ” muttered Anthony impatiently. “Where the devil does he come in? ”

“Are you ever sorry that you’ve mixed yourself up in all this? ” asked Virginia suddenly.

“Sorry? Good Lord, no. I love it. I’ve spent most of my life looking for trouble, you know. Perhaps, this time, I’ve got a little more than I bargained for.”

“But you’re well out of the wood now, ” said Virginia, a little surprised by the unusual gravity of his tone.

“Not quite.”

They strolled on for a minute or two in silence.

“There are some people, ” said Anthony, breaking the silence, “who don’t conform to the signals. An ordinary well-regulated locomotive slows down or pulls up when it sees the red light hoisted against it. Perhaps I was born colour blind. When I see the red signal—I can’t help forging ahead. And in the end, you know, that spells disaster. Bound to. And quite right really. That sort of thing is bad for traffic generally.”

He still spoke very seriously.

“I suppose, ” said Virginia, “that you have taken a good many risks in your life? ”

“Pretty nearly every one there is—except marriage.”

“That’s rather cynical.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. Marriage, the kind of marriage I mean, would be the biggest adventure of the lot.”

“I like that, ” said Virginia, flushing eagerly.

“There’s only one kind of woman I’d want to marry—the kind who is worlds removed from my type of life. What would we do about it? Is she to lead my life, or am I to lead hers? ”

“If she loved you——”

“Sentimentality, Mrs. Revel. You know it is. Love isn’t a drug that you take to blind you to your surroundings—you can make it that, yes, but it’s a pity—love can be a lot more than that. What do you think the King and his beggar maid thought of married life after they’d been married a year or two? Didn’t she regret her rags and her bare feet and her care-free life? You bet she did. Would it have been any good renouncing his Crown for her sake? Not a bit of good, either. He’d have made a damned bad beggar, I’m sure. And no woman respects a man when he’s doing a thing thoroughly badly.”

“Have you fallen in love with a beggar maid, Mr. Cade? ” inquired Virginia softly.

“It’s the other way about with me, but the principle’s the same.”

“And there’s no way out? ” asked Virginia.

“There’s always a way out, ” said Anthony gloomily. “I’ve a theory that one can always get anything one wants if one will pay the price. And do you know what the price is, nine times out of ten? Compromise. A beastly thing, compromise, but it steals upon you as you near middle age. It’s stealing upon me now. To get the woman I want I’d—I’d even take up regular work.”

Virginia laughed.

“I was brought up to a trade, you know, ” continued Anthony.

“And you abandoned it? ”

“Yes.”

“Why? ”

“A matter of principle.”

“Oh! ”

“You’re a very unusual woman, ” said Anthony suddenly, turning and looking at her.

“Why? ”

“You can refrain from asking questions.”

“You mean that I haven’t asked you what your trade was? ”

“Just that.”

Again they walked on in silence. They were nearing the house now, passing close by the scented sweetness of the rose garden.

“You understand well enough, I dare say, ” said Anthony, breaking the silence. “You know when a man’s in love with you. I don’t suppose you care a hang for me—or for anyone else—but, by God, I’d like to make you care.”

“Do you think you could? ” asked Virginia, in a low voice.

“Probably not, but I’d have a damned good try.”

“Are you sorry you ever met me? ” she said suddenly.

“Lord no. It’s the red signal again. When I first saw you—that day in Pont Street, I knew I was up against something that was going to hurt like fun. Your face did that to me—just your face. There’s magic in you from head to foot—some women are like that, but I’ve never known a woman who had so much of it as you have. You’ll marry some one respectable and prosperous, I suppose, and I shall return to my disreputable life, but I’ll kiss you once before I go—I swear I will.”

“You can’t do it now, ” said Virginia softly. “Superintendent Battle is watching us out of the library window.”

Anthony looked at her.

“You’re rather a devil, Virginia, ” he said dispassionately. “But rather a dear too.”

Then he waved his hand airily to Superintendent Battle.

“Caught any criminals this morning, Battle? ”

“Not as yet, Mr. Cade.”

“That sounds hopeful.”

Battle, with an agility surprising in so stolid a man, vaulted out of the library window and joined them on the terrace.

“I’ve got Professor Wynward down here, ” he announced in a whisper. “Just this minute arrived. He’s decoding the letters now. Would you like to see him at work? ”

His tone suggested that of the showman speaking of some pet exhibit. Receiving a reply in the affirmative, he led them up to the window and invited them to peep inside.

Seated at a table, the letters spread out in front of him and writing busily on a big sheet of paper was a small red-haired man of middle age. He grunted irritably to himself as he wrote, and every now and then rubbed his nose violently until its hue almost rivalled that of his hair.

Presently he looked up.

“That you, Battle? What you want me down here to unravel this tomfoolery for? A child in arms could do it. A baby of two could do it on its head. Call this thing a cipher? It leaps to the eye, man.”

“I’m glad of that, Professor, ” said Battle mildly. “But we’re not all so clever as you are, you know.”

“It doesn’t need cleverness, ” snapped the Professor. “It’s routine work. Do you want the whole bundle done? It’s a long business, you know—requires diligent application and close attention, and absolutely no intelligence. I’ve done the one dated ‘Chimneys’ which you said was important. I might as well take the rest back to London and hand ’em over to one of my assistants. I really can’t afford the time myself. I’ve come away now from a real teaser, and I want to get back to it.”

His eyes glistened a little.

“Very well, Professor, ” assented Battle. “I’m sorry we’re such small fry. I’ll explain to Mr. Lomax. It’s just this one letter that all the hurry is about. Lord Caterham is expecting you to stay for lunch, I believe.”

“Never have lunch, ” said the Professor. “Bad habit, lunch. A banana and a water biscuit is all any sane and healthy man should need in the middle of the day.”

He seized his overcoat, which lay across the back of a chair. Battle went round to the front of the house, and a few minutes later Anthony and Virginia heard the sound of a car driving away.

Battle rejoined them, carrying in his hand the half-sheet of paper which the Professor had given him.

“He’s always like that, ” said Battle, referring to the departed Professor. “In the very deuce of a hurry. Clever man, though. Well, here’s the kernel of Her Majesty’s letter. Care to have a look at it? ”

Virginia stretched out a hand, and Anthony read it over her shoulder. It had been, he remembered, a long epistle, breathing mingled passion and despair. The genius of Professor Wynward had transformed it into an essentially business-like communication.

_Operations carried out successfully, but S. double crossed us. Has removed stone from hiding-place. Not in his room. I have searched. Found following memorandum which I think refers to it_: “RICHMOND SEVEN STRAIGHT EIGHT LEFT THREE RIGHT.”

“S.? ” said Anthony. “Stylptitch, of course. Cunning old dog. He changed the hiding-place.”

“Richmond, ” said Virginia thoughtfully. “Is the diamond concealed somewhere at Richmond, I wonder? ”

“It’s a favourite spot for Royalties, ” agreed Anthony.

Battle shook his head.

“I still think it’s a reference to something in this house.”

“I know, ” cried Virginia suddenly.

Both men turned to look at her.

“The Holbein portrait in the Council Chamber. They were tapping on the wall just below it. And it’s a portrait of the Earl of Richmond! ”

“You’ve got it, ” said Battle, and slapped his leg.

He spoke with an animation quite unwonted.

“That’s the starting-point, the picture, and the crooks know no more than we do what the figures refer to. Those two men in armour stand directly underneath the picture, and their first idea was that the diamond was hidden in one of them. The measurements might have been inches. That failed, and their next idea was a secret passage or stairway, or a sliding panel. Do you know of any such thing, Mrs. Revel? ”

Virginia shook her head.

“There’s a Priest’s Hole, and at least one secret passage, I know, ” she said. “I believe I’ve been shown them once, but I can’t remember much about them now. Here’s Bundle, she’ll know.”

Bundle was coming quickly along the terrace towards them.

“I’m taking the Panhard up to town after lunch, ” she remarked. “Anyone want a lift? Wouldn’t you like to come, Mr. Cade? We’ll be back by dinner-time.”

“No, thanks, ” said Anthony. “I’m quite happy and busy down here.”

“The man fears me, ” said Bundle. “Either my driving or my fatal fascination! Which is it? ”

“The latter, ” said Anthony. “Every time.”

“Bundle, dear, ” said Virginia, “is there any secret passage leading out of the Council Chamber? ”

“Rather. But it’s only a mouldy one. Supposed to lead from Chimneys to Wyvvern Abbey. So it did in the old, old days, but it’s all blocked up now. You can only get along it for about a hundred yards from this end. The one upstairs in the White Gallery is ever so much more amusing, and the Priest’s Hole isn’t half bad.”

“We’re not regarding them from an artistic standpoint, ” explained Virginia. “It’s business. How do you get into the Council Chamber one? ”

“Hinged panel. I’ll show you after lunch if you like.”

“Thank you, ” said Superintendent Battle. “Shall we say at 2.30? ”

Bundle looked at him with lifted eyebrows.

“Crook stuff? ” she inquired.

Tredwell appeared on the terrace.

“Luncheon is served, my lady, ” he announced.

Encounter in the Rose Garden

At 2.30 a little party met together in the Council Chamber: Bundle, Virginia, Superintendent Battle, M. Lemoine and Anthony Cade.

“No good waiting until we can get hold of Mr. Lomax, ” said Battle. “This is the kind of business one wants to get on with quickly.”

“If you’ve got any idea that Prince Michael was murdered by some one who got in this way, you’re wrong, ” said Bundle. “It can’t be done. The other end’s blocked completely.”

“There is no question of that, milady, ” said Lemoine quickly. “It is quite a different search that we make.”

“Looking for something, are you? ” asked Bundle quickly. “Not the historic what-not, by any chance? ”

Lemoine looked puzzled.

“Explain yourself, Bundle, ” said Virginia encouragingly. “You can when you try.”

“The thingummybob, ” said Bundle. “The historic diamond of purple princes that was pinched in the dark ages before I grew to years of discretion.”

“Who told you this, Lady Eileen? ” asked Battle.

“I’ve always known. One of the footmen told me when I was twelve years old.”

“A footman, ” said Battle. “Lord! I’d like Mr. Lomax to have heard that! ”

“Is it one of George’s closely guarded secrets? ” asked Bundle. “How perfectly screaming! I never really thought it was true. George always was an ass—he must know that servants always know everything.”

She went across to the Holbein portrait, touched a spring concealed somewhere at the side of it, and immediately, with a creaking noise, a section of the panelling swung inward, revealing a dark opening.

“Entrez, Messieurs et Mesdames, ” said Bundle dramatically. “Walk up, walk up, dearies. Best show of the season, and only a tanner.”

Both Lemoine and Battle were provided with torches. They entered the dark aperture first, the others close on their heels.

“Air’s nice and fresh, ” remarked Battle. “Must be ventilated somehow.”

He walked on ahead. The floor was of rough uneven stone, but the walls were bricked. As Bundle had said, the passage extended for a bare hundred yards. Then it came to an abrupt end with a fallen heap of masonry. Battle satisfied himself that there was no way of egress beyond, and then spoke over his shoulder.

“We’ll go back, if you please. I wanted just to spy out the land, so to speak.”

In a few minutes they were back again at the panelled entrance.

“We’ll start from here, ” said Battle. “Seven straight, eight left, three right. Take the first as paces.”

He paced seven steps carefully, and bending down examined the ground.

“About right, I should fancy. At one time or another, there’s been a chalk mark made here. Now then, eight left. That’s not paces, the passage is only wide enough to go Indian file anyway.”

“Say it in bricks, ” suggested Anthony.

“Quite right, Mr. Cade. Eight bricks from the bottom or the top on the left-hand side. Try from the bottom first—it’s easier.”

He counted up eight bricks.

“Now three to the right of that. One, two, three—Hullo—— Hullo, what’s this? ”

“I shall scream in a minute, ” said Bundle, “I know I shall. _What_ is it? ”

Superintendent Battle was working at the brick with the point of his knife. His practised eye had quickly seen that this particular brick was different from the rest. A minute or two’s work, and he was able to pull it right out. Behind was a small dark cavity. Battle thrust in his hand.

Every one waited in breathless expectancy.

Battle drew out his hand again.

He uttered an exclamation of surprise and anger.

The others crowded round and stared uncomprehendingly at the three articles he held. For a moment it seemed as though their eyes must have deceived them.

A card of small pearl buttons, a square of coarse knitting and a piece of paper on which were inscribed a row of capital E’s!

“Well, ” said Battle. “I’m—I’m danged! What’s the meaning of this? ”

“_Mon Dieu_, ” muttered the Frenchman. “_Ça, c’est un peu trop fort! _”

“But what does it mean? ” cried Virginia, bewildered.

“Mean? ” said Anthony. “There’s only one thing it can mean. The late Count Stylptitch must have had a sense of humour! This is an example of that humour. I may say that I don’t consider it particularly funny myself.”

“Do you mind explaining your meaning a little more clearly, sir? ” said Superintendent Battle.

“Certainly. This was the Count’s little joke. He must have suspected that his memorandum had been read. When the crooks came to recover the jewel, they were to find instead this extremely clever conundrum. It’s the sort of thing you pin on to yourself at Book Teas, when people have to guess what you are.”

“It has a meaning, then? ”

“I should say, undoubtedly. If the Count had meant to be merely offensive, he would have put a placard with ‘Sold’ on it, or a picture of a donkey or something crude like that.”

“A bit of knitting, some capital E’s, and a lot of buttons, ” muttered Battle discontentedly.

“_C’est inoui_, ” said Lemoine angrily.

“Cipher No. 2, ” said Anthony. “I wonder whether Professor Wynward would be any good at this one? ”

“When was this passage last used, milady? ” asked the Frenchman of Bundle.

Bundle reflected.

“I don’t believe anyone’s been into it for over two years. The Priest’s Hole is the show exhibit for Americans and tourists generally.”

“Curious, ” murmured the Frenchman.

“Why curious? ”

Lemoine stooped and picked up a small object from the floor.

“Because of this, ” he said. “This match has not lain here for two years—not even for two days.”

Battle looked at the match curiously. It was of pink wood, with a yellow head.

“Any of you ladies or gentlemen drop this, by any chance? ” he asked.

He received a negative all round.

“Well, then, ” said Superintendent Battle, “we’ve seen all there is to see. We might as well get out of here.”

The proposal was assented to by all. The panel had swung to, but Bundle showed them how it was fastened from the inside. She unlatched it, swung it noiselessly open, and sprang through the opening, alighting in the Council Chamber with a resounding thud.

“Damn! ” said Lord Caterham, springing up from an arm-chair in which he appeared to have been taking forty winks.

“Poor old father, ” said Bundle. “Did I startle you? ”

“I can’t think, ” said Lord Caterham, “why nobody nowadays ever sits still after a meal. It’s a lost art. God knows Chimneys is big enough, but even here there doesn’t seem to be a single room where I can be sure of a little peace. Good Lord, how many of you are there? Reminds me of the Pantomimes I used to go to as a boy when hordes of demons used to pop up out of trapdoors.”

“Demon No. 7, ” said Virginia, approaching him, and patting him on the head. “Don’t be cross. We’re just exploring secret passages, that’s all.”

“There seems to be a positive boom in secret passages to-day, ” grumbled Lord Caterham, not yet completely mollified. “I’ve had to show that fellow Fish round them all this morning.”

“When was that? ” asked Battle quickly.

“Just before lunch. It seems he’d heard of the one in here. I showed him that, and then took him up to the White Gallery, and we finished up with the Priest’s Hole. But his enthusiasm was waning by that time. He looked bored to death. But I made him go through with it.” Lord Caterham chuckled at the remembrance.

Anthony put a hand on Lemoine’s arm.

“Come outside, ” he said softly. “I want to speak to you.”

The two men went out together through the window. When they had gone a sufficient distance from the house, Anthony drew from his pocket the scrap of paper that Boris had given him that morning.

“Look here, ” he said. “Did you drop this? ”

Lemoine took it and examined it with some interest.

“No, ” he said. “I have never seen it before. Why? ”

“Quite sure? ”

“Absolutely sure, Monsieur.”

“That’s very odd.”

He repeated to Lemoine what Boris had said. The other listened with close attention.

“No, I did not drop it. You say he found it in that clump of trees? ”

“Well, I assumed so, but he did not actually say so.”

“It is just possible that it might have fluttered out of M. Isaacstein’s suit-case. Question Boris again.” He handed the paper back to Anthony. After a minute or two he said: “What exactly do you know of this man Boris? ”

Anthony shrugged his shoulders.

“I understood he was the late Prince Michael’s trusted servant.”

“It may be so, but make it your business to find out. Ask some one who knows, such as the Baron Lolopretjzyl. Perhaps this man was engaged but a few weeks ago. For myself, I have believed him honest. But who knows? King Victor is quite capable of making himself into a trusted servant at a moment’s notice.”

“Do you really think——”

Lemoine interrupted him.

“I will be quite frank. With me, King Victor is an obsession. I see him everywhere. At this moment even I ask myself—this man who is talking to me, this M. Cade, is he, perhaps, King Victor? ”

“Good Lord, ” said Anthony, “you have got it badly.”

“What do I care for the diamond? For the discovery of the murderer of Prince Michael? I leave those affairs to my colleague of Scotland Yard whose business it is. Me, I am in England for one purpose, and one purpose only, to capture King Victor and to capture him red-handed. Nothing else matters.”

“Think you’ll do it? ” asked Anthony, lighting a cigarette.

“How should I know? ” said Lemoine, with sudden despondency.

“H’m! ” said Anthony.

They had regained the terrace. Superintendent Battle was standing near the French window in a wooden attitude.

“Look at poor old Battle, ” said Anthony. “Let’s go and cheer him up.” He paused a minute, and said, “You know, you’re an odd fish in some ways, M. Lemoine.”

“In what ways, M. Cade? ”

“Well, ” said Anthony, “in your place, I should have been inclined to note down that address that I showed you. It may be of no importance—quite conceivably. On the other hand, it might be very important indeed.”

Lemoine looked at him for a minute or two steadily. Then, with a slight smile, he drew back the cuff of his left coat sleeve. Pencilled on the white shirt-cuff beneath were the words “Hurstmere, Langly Road, Dover.”

“I apologize, ” said Anthony. “And I retire worsted.”

He joined Superintendent Battle.

“You look very pensive, Battle, ” he remarked.

“I’ve got a lot to think about, Mr. Cade.”

“Yes, I expect you have.”

“Things aren’t dovetailing. They’re not dovetailing at all.”

“Very trying, ” sympathized Anthony. “Never mind, Battle, if the worst comes to the worst, you can always arrest me. You’ve got my guilty footprints to fall back upon, remember.”

But the superintendent did not smile.

“Got any enemies here that you know of, Mr. Cade? ” he asked.

“I’ve an idea that the third footman doesn’t like me, ” replied Anthony lightly. “He does his best to forget to hand me the choicest vegetables. Why? ”

“I’ve been getting anonymous letters, ” said Superintendent Battle. “Or rather an anonymous letter, I should say.”

“About me? ”

Without answering Battle took a folded sheet of cheap notepaper from his pocket, and handed it to Anthony. Scrawled on it in an illiterate handwriting were the words:

“Look out for Mr. Cade. He isn’t wot he seems.”

Anthony handed it back with a light laugh.

“That’s all? Cheer up, Battle. I’m really a King in disguise, you know.”

He went into the house, whistling lightly as he walked along. But as he entered his bedroom and shut the door behind him, his face changed. It grew set and stern. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared moodily at the floor.

“Things are getting serious, ” said Anthony to himself. “Something must be done about it. It’s all damned awkward....”

He sat there for a minute or two, then strolled to the window. For a moment or two he stood looking out aimlessly, and then his eyes became suddenly focused on a certain spot, and his face lightened.

“Of course, ” he said. “The Rose Garden! That’s it! The Rose Garden.”

He hurried downstairs again and out into the garden by a side door. He approached the Rose Garden by a circuitous route. It had a little gate at either end. He entered by the far one, and walked up to the sundial which was on a raised hillock in the exact centre of the garden.

Just as Anthony reached it, he stopped dead and stared at another occupant of the Rose Garden who seemed equally surprised to see him.

“I didn’t know that you were interested in roses, Mr. Fish, ” said Anthony gently.

“Sir, ” said Mr. Fish, “I am considerably interested in roses.”

They looked at each other warily, as antagonists seek to measure their opponents’ strength.

“So am I, ” said Anthony.

“Is that so? ”

“In fact, I dote upon roses, ” said Anthony airily.

A very slight smile hovered upon Mr. Fish’s lips and at the same time Anthony also smiled. The tension seemed to relax.

“Look at this beauty now, ” said Mr. Fish, stooping to point out a particularly fine bloom. “Madame Abel Chatenay, I pressoom it to be. Yes, I am right. This white rose, before the war, was known as Frau Carl Drusky. They have, I believe, renamed it. Over sensitive, perhaps but truly patriotic. The La France is always popular. Do you care for red roses at all, Mr. Cade? A bright scarlet rose now——”

Mr. Fish’s slow, drawling voice was interrupted. Bundle was leaning out of a first-floor window.

“Care for a spin to town, Mr. Fish? I’m just off.”

“Thank you, Lady Eileen, but I am vurry happy here.”

“Sure you won’t change your mind, Mr. Cade? ”

Anthony laughed and shook his head. Bundle disappeared.

“Sleep is more in my line, ” said Anthony, with a wide yawn. “A good after luncheon nap! ” He took out a cigarette. “You haven’t got a match, have you? ”

Mr. Fish handed him a match-box. Anthony helped himself, and handed back the box with a word of thanks.

“Roses, ” said Anthony, “are all very well. But I don’t feel particularly horticultural this afternoon.”

With a disarming smile, he nodded cheerfully.

A thundering noise sounded from just outside the house.

“Pretty powerful engine she’s got in that car of hers, ” remarked Anthony. “There, off she goes.”

They had a view of the car speeding down the long drive.

Anthony yawned again, and strolled towards the house.

He passed in through the door. Once inside, he seemed as though changed to quicksilver. He raced across the hall, out through one of the windows on the farther side, and across the park. Bundle, he knew, had to make a big détour by the lodge gates, and through the village.

He ran desperately. It was a race against time. He reached the park wall just as he heard the car outside. He swung himself up and dropped into the road.

“Hi! ” cried Anthony.

In her astonishment, Bundle swerved half across the road. She managed to pull up without accident. Anthony ran after the car, opened the door, and jumped in beside Bundle.

“I’m coming to London with you, ” he said. “I meant to all along.”

“Extraordinary person, ” said Bundle. “What’s that you’ve got in your hand? ”

“Only a match, ” said Anthony.

He regarded it thoughtfully. It was pink, with a yellow head. He threw away his unlighted cigarette, and put the match carefully into his pocket.

The House at Dover

“You don’t mind, I suppose, ” said Bundle after a minute or two, “if I drive rather fast? I started later than I meant to do.”

It had seemed to Anthony that they were proceeding at a terrific speed already, but he soon saw that that was nothing compared to what Bundle could get out of the Panhard if she tried.

“Some people, ” said Bundle, as she slowed down momentarily to pass through a village, “are terrified of my driving. Poor old father, for instance. Nothing would induce him to come up with me in this old bus.”

Privately, Anthony thought Lord Caterham was entirely justified. Driving with Bundle was not a sport to be indulged in by nervous, middle-aged gentlemen.

“But you don’t seem nervous a bit, ” continued Bundle approvingly, as she swept round a corner on two wheels.

“I’m in pretty good training, you see, ” explained Anthony gravely. “Also, ” he added, as an afterthought, “I’m rather in a hurry myself.”

“Shall I speed her up a bit more? ” asked Bundle kindly.

“Good Lord, no, ” said Anthony hastily. “We’re averaging about fifty as it is.”

“I’m burning with curiosity to know the reason of this sudden departure, ” said Bundle, after executing a fanfare upon the Klaxon which must temporarily have deafened the neighbourhood. “But I suppose I mustn’t ask? You’re not escaping from justice, are you? ”

“I’m not quite sure, ” said Anthony. “I shall know soon.”

“That Scotland Yard man isn’t as much of a rabbit as I thought, ” said Bundle thoughtfully.

“Battle’s a good man, ” agreed Anthony.

“You ought to have been in diplomacy, ” remarked Bundle. “You don’t part with much information, do you? ”

“I was under the impression that I babbled.”

“Oh! Boy! You’re not eloping with Mademoiselle Brun, by any chance? ”

“Not guilty! ” said Anthony with fervour.

There was a pause of some minutes during which Bundle caught up and passed three other cars. Then she asked suddenly:

“How long have you known Virginia? ”

“That’s a difficult question to answer, ” said Anthony, with perfect truth. “I haven’t actually met her very often, and yet I seem to have known her a long time.”

Bundle nodded.

“Virginia’s got brains, ” she remarked abruptly. “She’s always talking nonsense, but she’s got brains all right. She was frightfully good out in Herzoslovakia, I believe. If Tim Revel had lived he’d have had a fine career—and mostly owing to Virginia. She worked for him tooth and nail. She did everything in the world she could for him—and I know why, too.”

“Because she cared for him? ” Anthony sat looking very straight ahead of him.

“No, because she didn’t. Don’t you see? She didn’t love him—she never loved him, and so she did everything on earth she could to make up. That’s Virginia all over. But don’t you make any mistake about it. Virginia was never in love with Tim Revel.”

“You seem very positive, ” said Anthony, turning to look at her.

Bundle’s little hands were clenched on the steering wheel, and her chin was stuck out in a determined manner.

“I know a thing or two. I was only a kid at the time of her marriage, but I heard one or two things, and knowing Virginia I can put them together easily enough. Tim Revel was bowled over by Virginia—he was Irish, you know, and most attractive, with a genius for expressing himself well. Virginia was quite young—eighteen. She couldn’t go anywhere without seeing Tim in a state of picturesque misery, vowing he’d shoot himself or take to drink if she didn’t marry him. Girls believe these things—or used to—we’ve advanced a lot in the last eight years. Virginia was carried away by the feeling she thought she’d inspired. She married him—and she was an angel to him always. She wouldn’t have been half as much of an angel if she’d loved him. There’s a lot of the devil in Virginia. But I can tell you one thing—she enjoys her freedom. And anyone will have a hard time persuading her to give it up.”

“I wonder why you tell me all this? ” said Anthony slowly.

“It’s interesting to know about people, isn’t it? Some people, that is.”

“I’ve wanted to know, ” he acknowledged.

“And you’d never have heard from Virginia. But you can trust me for an inside tip from the stables. Virginia’s a darling. Even women like her because she isn’t a bit of a cat. And anyway, ” Bundle ended, somewhat obscurely, “one must be a sport, mustn’t one? ”

“Oh, certainly, ” Anthony agreed. But he was still puzzled. He had no idea what had prompted Bundle to give him so much information unasked. That he was glad of it, he did not deny.

“Here are the trams, ” said Bundle, with a sigh. “Now, I suppose, I shall have to drive carefully.”

“It might be as well, ” agreed Anthony.

His ideas and Bundle’s on the subject of careful driving hardly coincided. Leaving indignant suburbs behind them, they finally emerged into Oxford Street.

“Not bad going, eh? ” said Bundle, glancing at her wrist watch.

Anthony assented fervently.

“Where do you want to be dropped? ”

“Anywhere. Which way are you going? ”

“Knightsbridge way.”

“All right, drop me at Hyde Park Corner.”

“Good-bye, ” said Bundle, as she drew up at the place indicated. “What about the return journey? ”

“I’ll find my own way back, thanks very much.”

“I _have_ scared him, ” remarked Bundle.

“I shouldn’t recommend driving with you as a tonic for nervous old ladies, but personally I’ve enjoyed it. The last time I was in equal danger was when I was charged by a herd of wild elephants.”

“I think you’re extremely rude, ” remarked Bundle. “We’ve not even had one bump to-day.”

“I’m sorry if you’ve been holding yourself in on my account, ” retorted Anthony.

“I don’t think men are really very brave, ” said Bundle.

“That’s a nasty one, ” said Anthony. “I retire, humiliated.” Bundle nodded and drove on. Anthony hailed a passing taxi. “Victoria Station, ” he said to the driver as he got in.

When he got to Victoria he paid off the taxi and inquired for the next train to Dover. Unfortunately he had just missed one.

Resigning himself to a wait of something over an hour, Anthony paced up and down, his brows knit. Once or twice he shook his head impatiently.

The journey to Dover was uneventful. Arrived there, Anthony passed quickly out of the station, and then, as though suddenly remembering, he turned back again. There was a slight smile on his lips as he asked to be directed to Hurstmere, Langly Road.

The road in question was a long one, leading right out of the town. According to the porter’s instructions, Hurstmere was the last house. Anthony trudged along steadily. The little pucker had reappeared between his eyes. Nevertheless there was a new elation in his manner, as always when danger was near at hand.

Hurstmere was, as the porter had said, the last house in Langly Road. It stood well back, enclosed in its own grounds, which were ragged and overgrown. The place, Anthony judged, must have been empty for many years. A large iron gate swung rustily on its hinges, and the name on the gatepost was half obliterated.

“A lonely spot, ” muttered Anthony to himself, “and a good one to choose.”

He hesitated a minute or two, glanced quickly up and down the road—which was quite deserted—and then slipped quietly past the creaking gate into the overgrown drive. He walked up it a little way, and then stood listening. He was still some distance from the house. Not a sound could be heard anywhere. Some fast yellowing leaves detached themselves from one of the trees overhead and fell with a soft rustling sound that was almost sinister in the stillness. Anthony started; then smiled.

“Nerves, ” he murmured to himself. “Never knew I had such things before.”

He went on up the drive. Presently, as the drive curved, he slipped into the shrubbery and so continued his way unseen from the house. Suddenly he stood still, peering out through the leaves. Some distance away a dog was barking, but it was a sound nearer at hand that had attracted Anthony’s attention.

His keen hearing had not been mistaken. A man came rapidly round the corner of the house, a short square, thickset man, foreign in appearance. He did not pause but walked steadily on, circling the house and disappearing again.

Anthony nodded to himself.

“Sentry, ” he murmured. “They do the thing quite well.”

As soon as he had passed, Anthony went on, diverging to the left, and so following in the footsteps of the sentry.

His own footsteps were quite noiseless.

The wall of the house was on his right, and presently he came to where a broad blur of light fell on the gravelled walk. The sound of several men talking together was clearly audible.

“My God! what double-dyed idiots, ” murmured Anthony to himself. “It would serve them right to be given a fright.”

He stole up to the window, stooping a little so that he should not be seen. Presently he lifted his head very carefully to the level of the sill and looked in.

Half a dozen men were sprawling round a table. Four of them were big thickset men, with high cheek-bones, and eyes set in Magyar slanting fashion. The other two were rat-like little men with quick gestures. The language that was being spoken was French, but the four big men spoke it with uncertainty and a hoarse guttural intonation.

“The Boss? ” growled one of these. “When will he be here? ”

One of the smaller men shrugged his shoulders.

“Any time now.”

“About time, too, ” growled the first man. “I have never seen him, this Boss of yours, but, oh, what great and glorious work might we not have accomplished in these days of idle waiting! ”

“Fool, ” said the other little man bitingly. “Getting nabbed by the police is all the great and glorious work you and your precious lot would have been likely to accomplish. A lot of blundering gorillas? ”

“Aha! ” roared another big thickset fellow. “You insult the Comrades? I will soon set the sign of the Red Hand round your throat.”

He half rose, glaring ferociously at the Frenchman, but one of his companions pulled him back again.

“No quarreling, ” he grunted. “We’re to work together. From all I heard this King Victor doesn’t stand for being disobeyed.”

In the darkness, Anthony heard the footsteps of the sentry coming his round again, and he drew back behind a bush.

“Who’s that? ” said one of the men inside.

“Carlo—going his rounds.”

“Oh! What about the prisoner? ”

“He’s all right—coming round pretty fast now. He’s recovered well from the crack on the head we gave him.”

Anthony moved gently away.

“God! what a lot, ” he muttered. “They discuss their affairs with an open window, and that fool Carlo goes his round with the tread of an elephant, and the eyes of a bat. And to crown all, the Herzoslovakians and the French are on the point of coming to blows. King Victor’s headquarters seem to be in a parlous condition. It would amuse me, it would amuse me very much, to teach them a lesson.”

He stood irresolute for a minute, smiling to himself.

From somewhere above his head came a stifled groan.

Anthony looked up. The groan came again.

Anthony glanced quickly from left to right. Carlo was not due round again just yet. He grasped the heavy Virginia creeper and climbed nimbly till he reached the sill of a window. The window was shut, but with a tool from his pocket he soon succeeded in forcing up the catch.

He paused a minute to listen, then sprang lightly inside the room. There was a bed in the far corner and on that bed a man was lying, his figure barely discernible in the gloom.

Anthony went over to the bed, and flashed his pocket torch on the man’s face. It was a foreign face, pale and emaciated, and the head was swathed in heavy bandages.

The man was bound hand and foot. He stared up at Anthony like one dazed.

Anthony bent over him, and as he did so he heard a sound behind him and swung round, his hand travelling to his coat pocket.

But a sharp command arrested him.

“Hands up, sonny. You didn’t expect to see me here, but I happened to catch the same train as you at Victoria.”

It was Mr. Hiram Fish who was standing in the doorway. He was smiling and in his hand was a big blue automatic.

Tuesday Night at Chimneys

Lord Caterham, Virginia and Bundle were sitting in the library after dinner. It was Tuesday evening. Some thirty hours had elapsed since Anthony’s rather dramatic departure.

For at least the seventh time Bundle repeated Anthony’s parting words, as spoken at Hyde Park Corner.

“I’ll find my own way back, ” repeated Virginia thoughtfully. “That doesn’t look as though he expected to be away as long as this. And he’s left all his things here.”

“He didn’t tell you where he was going? ”

“No, ” said Virginia, looking straight in front of her. “He told me nothing.”

After this, there was a silence for a minute or two. Lord Caterham was the first to break it.

“On the whole, ” he said, “keeping an hotel has some advantages over keeping a country house.”

“Meaning——? ”

“That little notice they always hang up in your room. Visitors intending departure must give notice before twelve o’clock.”

Virginia smiled.

“I dare say, ” he continued, “that I am old-fashioned and unreasonable. It’s the fashion, I know, to pop in and out of a house. Same idea as an hotel—perfect freedom of action, and no bill at the end! ”

“You are an old grouser, ” said Bundle. “You’ve had Virginia and me. What more do you want? ”

“Nothing more, nothing more, ” Lord Caterham assured them hastily. “That’s not it at all. It’s the principle of the thing. It gives one such a restless feeling. I’m quite willing to admit that it’s been an almost ideal twenty-four hours. Peace—perfect peace. No burglaries or other crimes of violence, no detectives, no Americans. What I complain of is that I should have enjoyed it all so much more if I’d felt really secure. As it is, all the time I’ve been saying to myself ‘One or other of them is bound to turn up in a minute.’ And that spoilt the whole thing.”

“Well, nobody has turned up, ” said Bundle. “We’ve been left severely alone—neglected, in fact. It’s odd the way Fish disappeared. Didn’t he say anything? ”

“Not a word. Last time I saw him he was pacing up and down the Rose Garden yesterday afternoon, smoking one of those unpleasant cigars of his. After that he seems to have just melted into the landscape.”

“Somebody must have kidnapped him, ” said Bundle hopefully.

“In another day or two, I expect we shall have Scotland Yard dragging the lake to find his dead body, ” said her father gloomily. “It serves me right. At my time of life, I ought to have gone quietly abroad and taken care of my health, and not allowed myself to be drawn into George Lomax’s wild-cat schemes. I——”

He was interrupted by Tredwell.

“Well, ” said Lord Caterham irritably, “what is it? ”

“The French detective is here, my lord, and would be glad if you could spare him a few minutes.”

“What did I tell you? ” said Lord Caterham. “I knew it was too good to last. Depend upon it, they’ve found Fish’s dead body doubled up in the goldfish pond.”

Tredwell, in a strictly respectful manner, steered him back to the point of issue.

“Am I to say that you will see him, my lord? ”

“Yes, yes. Bring him in here.”

Tredwell departed. He returned a minute or two later announcing in a lugubrious voice:

“Monsieur Lemoine.”

The Frenchman came in with a quick, light step. His walk, more than his face, betrayed the fact that he was excited about something.

“Good evening, Lemoine, ” said Lord Caterham. “Have a drink, won’t you? ”

“I thank you, no.” He bowed punctiliously to the ladies. “At last I make progress. As things are, I felt that you should be acquainted with the discoveries—the very grave discoveries that I have made in the course of the last twenty-four hours.”

“I thought there must be something important going on somewhere, ” said Lord Caterham.

“My lord, yesterday afternoon one of your guests left this house in a curious manner. From the beginning, I must tell you, I have had my suspicions. Here is a man who comes from the wilds. Two months ago he was in South Africa. Before that—where? ”

Virginia drew a sharp breath. For a moment the Frenchman’s eyes rested on her doubtfully. Then he went on:

“Before that—where? None can say. And he is just such a one as the man I am looking for—gay, audacious, reckless, one who would dare anything. I send cable after cable, but I can get no word as to his past life. Ten years ago he was in Canada, yes, but since then—silence. My suspicions grow stronger. Then I picked up one day a scrap of paper where he has lately passed along. It bears an address—the address of a house in Dover. Later, as though by chance, I drop that same piece of paper. Out of the tail of my eye, I see this Boris, this Herzoslovakian, pick it up and take it to his master. All along I have been sure that this Boris is an emissary of the Comrades of the Red Hand. We know that the Comrades are working in with King Victor over this affair. If Boris recognized his Chief in Mr. Anthony Cade, would he not do just what he has done—transferred his allegiance? Why should he attach himself otherwise to an insignificant stranger? It was suspicious, I tell you, very suspicious.

“But almost I am disarmed, for Anthony Cade brings this same paper to me at once and asks me if I have dropped it. As I say, almost I am disarmed—but not quite! For it may mean that he is innocent, or it may mean that he is very, very clever. I deny, of course, that it is mine or that I dropped it. But in the meantime I have set inquiries on foot. Only to-day I have news. The house at Dover has been precipitately abandoned, but up till yesterday afternoon it was occupied by a body of foreigners. Not a doubt but that it was King Victor’s headquarters. Now see the significance of these points. Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Cade clears out from here precipitately. Ever since he dropped that paper, he must know that the game is up. He reaches Dover and immediately the gang is disbanded. What the next move will be, I do not know. What is quite certain is that Mr. Anthony Cade will not return here. But knowing King Victor, as I do, I am certain that he will not abandon the game without having one more try for the jewel. And that is when I shall get him! ”

Virginia stood up suddenly. She walked across to the mantelpiece and spoke in a voice that rang cold like steel.

“You are leaving one thing out of account, I think, M. Lemoine, ” she said. “Mr. Cade is not the only guest who disappeared yesterday in a suspicious manner.”

“You mean, Madame——? ”

“That all you have said applies equally well to another person. What about Mr. Hiram Fish? ”

“Oh, Mr. Fish! ”

“Yes, Mr. Fish. Did you not tell us that first night that King Victor had lately come to England from America? So has Mr. Fish come to England from America. It is true that he brought a letter of introduction from a very well-known man, but surely that would be a simple thing for a man like King Victor to manage. He is certainly not what he pretends to be. Lord Caterham has commented on the fact that when it is a question of the first editions he is supposed to have come here to see he is always the listener, never the talker. And there are several suspicious facts against him. There was a light in his window the night of the murder. Then take that evening in the Council Chamber. When I met him on the terrace he was fully dressed. _He_ could have dropped the paper. You didn’t actually _see_ Mr. Cade do so. Mr. Cade may have gone to Dover. If he did it was simply to investigate. He may have been kidnapped there. I say that there is far more suspicion attaching to Mr. Fish’s actions than to Mr. Cade’s.”

The Frenchman’s voice rang out sharply:

“From your point of view, that well may be, Madame. I do not dispute it. And I agree that Mr. Fish is not what he seems.”

“Well, then? ”

“But that makes no difference. _You see, Madame, Mr. Fish is a Pinkerton’s man._”

“What? ” cried Lord Caterham.

“Yes, Lord Caterham. He came over here to trail King Victor. Superintendent Battle and I have known this for some time.”

Virginia said nothing. Very slowly she sat down again. With those few words the structure that she had built up so carefully was scattered in ruins about her feet.

“You see, ” Lemoine was continuing, “we have all known that eventually King Victor would come to Chimneys. It was the one place we were sure of catching him.”

Virginia looked up with an odd light in her eyes, and suddenly she laughed.

“You’ve not caught him yet, ” she said.

Lemoine looked at her curiously.

“No, Madame. But I shall.”

“He’s supposed to be rather famous for outwitting people, isn’t he? ”

The Frenchman’s face darkened with anger.

“This time, it will be different, ” he said between his teeth.

“He’s a very attractive fellow, ” said Lord Caterham. “Very attractive. But surely—why, you said he was an old friend of yours, Virginia? ”

“That is why, ” said Virginia composedly, “I think M. Lemoine must be making a mistake.”

And her eyes met the detective’s steadily, but he appeared in no wise discomfited.

“Time will show, Madame, ” he said.

“Do you pretend that it was he who shot Prince Michael? ” she asked presently.

“Certainly.”

But Virginia shook her head.

“Oh, no! ” she said. “Oh, no! That is one thing I am quite sure of. Anthony Cade never killed Prince Michael.”

Lemoine was watching her intently.

“There is a possibility that you are right, Madame, ” he said slowly. “A possibility, that is all. It may have been the Herzoslovakian, Boris, who exceeded his orders and fired that shot. Who knows, Prince Michael may have done him some great wrong, and the man sought revenge.”

“He looks a murderous sort of fellow, ” agreed Lord Caterham. “The house-maids, I believe, scream when he passes them in the passages.”

“Well, ” said Lemoine. “I must be going now. I felt it was due to you, my lord, to know exactly how things stand.”

“Very kind of you, I’m sure, ” said Lord Caterham. “Quite certain you won’t have a drink? All right then. Good night.”

“I hate that man with his prim little black beard and his eyeglasses, ” said Bundle, as soon as the door had shut behind him. “I hope Anthony _does_ snoo him. I’d love to see him dancing with rage. What do you think about it all, Virginia? ”

“I don’t know, ” said Virginia. “I’m tired. I shall go up to bed.”

“Not a bad idea, ” said Lord Caterham. “It’s half-past eleven.”

As Virginia was crossing the wide hall, she caught sight of a broad back that seemed familiar to her discreetly vanishing through a side door.

“Superintendent Battle, ” she called imperiously.

The superintendent, for it was indeed he, retraced his steps with a shade of unwillingness.

“Yes, Mrs. Revel? ”

“M. Lemoine has been here. He says—— Tell me, is it true, really true, that Mr. Fish is an American detective? ”

Superintendent Battle nodded.

“That’s right.”

“You have known it all along? ”

Again Superintendent Battle nodded.

Virginia turned away towards the staircase.

“I see, ” she said. “Thank you.”

Until that minute she had refused to believe.

And now——?

Sitting down before her dressing-table in her own room, she faced the question squarely. Every word that Anthony had said came back to her fraught with a new significance.

Was this the “trade” that he had spoken of?

The trade that he had given up. But then——

An unusual sound disturbed the even tenor of her meditations. She lifted her head with a start. Her little gold clock showed the hour to be after one. Nearly two hours she had sat here thinking.

Again the sound was repeated. A sharp tap on the window-pane. Virginia went to the window and opened it. Below on the pathway was a tall figure which even as she looked stooped for another handful of gravel.

For a moment Virginia’s heart beat faster—then she recognized the massive strength and square-cut outline of the Herzoslovakian, Boris.

“Yes, ” she said in a low tone. “What is it? ”

At the moment it did not strike her as strange that Boris should be throwing gravel at her window at this hour of the night.

“What is it? ” she repeated impatiently.

“I come from the Master, ” said Boris in a low tone which nevertheless carried perfectly. “He has sent for you.”

He made the statement in a perfectly matter-of-fact tone.

“Sent for me? ”

“Yes, I am to bring you to him. There is a note. I will throw it up to you.”

Virginia stood back a little, and a slip of paper, weighted with a stone, fell accurately at her feet. She unfolded it and read:

“_My dear_ (Anthony had written), —_I’m in a tight place, but I mean to win through. Will you trust me and come to me? _”

For quite two minutes Virginia stood there, immovable, reading those few words over again and again.

She raised her head, looking round the well-appointed luxury of the bedroom as though she saw it with new eyes.

Then she leaned out of the window again.

“What am I to do? ” she asked.

“The detectives are the other side of the house, outside the Council Chamber. Come down and out through this side door. I will be there. I have a car waiting outside in the road.”

Virginia nodded. Quickly she changed her dress for one of fawn tricot, and pulled on a little fawn leather hat.

Then, smiling a little, she wrote a short note, addressed it to Bundle and pinned it to the pincushion.

She stole quietly downstairs and undid the bolts of the side door. Just a moment she paused, then, with a little gallant toss of the head, the same toss of the head which her ancestors had gone into action in the Crusades, she passed through.

The 13th of October

At ten o’clock on the morning of Wednesday, the 13th of October, Anthony Cade walked into Harridge’s Hotel and asked for Baron Lolopretjzyl who was occupying a suite there.

After suitable and imposing delay, Anthony was taken to the suite in question. The Baron was standing on the hearthrug in a correct and stiff fashion. Little Captain Andrassy, equally correct as to demeanour, but with a slightly hostile attitude, was also present.

The usual bows, clicking of heels, and other formal greetings of etiquette took place. Anthony was, by now, thoroughly conversant with the routine.

“You will forgive this early call I trust, Baron, ” he said cheerfully, laying down his hat and stick on the table. “As a matter of fact, I have a little business proposition to make to you.”

“Ha! Is that so? ” said the Baron.

Captain Andrassy, who had never overcome his initial distrust of Anthony, looked suspicious.

“Business, ” said Anthony, “is based on the well-known principle of supply and demand. You want something, the other man has it. The only thing left to settle is the price.”

The Baron looked at him attentively, but said nothing.

“Between a Herzoslovakian nobleman and an English gentleman the terms should be easily arranged, ” said Anthony rapidly.

He blushed a little as he said it. Such words do not rise easily to an Englishman’s lips, but he had observed on previous occasions the enormous effect of such phraseology upon the Baron’s mentality. True enough, the charm worked.

“That is so, ” said the Baron approvingly, nodding his head. “That is entirely so.”

Even Captain Andrassy appeared to unbend a little, and nodded his head also.

“Very good, ” said Anthony. “I won’t beat about the bush any more——”

“What is that, you say? ” interrupted the Baron. “To beat about the bush? I do not comprehend? ”

“A mere figure of speech, Baron. To speak in plain English, _you_ want the goods, _we_ have them! The ship is all very well, but it lacks a figurehead. By the ship, I mean the Loyalist party of Herzoslovakia. At the present minute you lack the principal plank of your political programme. You are minus a Prince! Now supposing—only supposing, that I could supply you with a Prince? ”

The Baron stared.

“I do not comprehend you in the least, ” he declared.

“Sir, ” said Captain Andrassy, twirling his moustache fiercely, “you are insulting! ”

“Not at all, ” said Anthony. “I’m trying to be helpful. Supply and demand, you understand. It’s all perfectly fair and square. No Princes supplied unless genuine—see trademark. If we come to terms, you’ll find it’s quite all right. I’m offering you the real genuine article—out of the bottom drawer.”

“Not in the least, ” the Baron declared again, “do I comprehend you.”

“It doesn’t really matter, ” said Anthony kindly. “I just want you to get used to the idea. To put it vulgarly, I’ve got something up my sleeve. Just get hold of this. You want a Prince. Under certain conditions, I will undertake to supply you with one.”

The Baron and Andrassy stared at him. Anthony took up his hat and stick again and prepared to depart.

“Just think it over. Now, Baron, there is one thing further. You must come down to Chimneys this evening—Captain Andrassy also. Several very curious things are likely to happen there. Shall we make an appointment? Say in the Council Chamber at nine o’clock? Thank you, gentlemen, I may rely upon you to be there? ”

The Baron took a step forward and looked searchingly in Anthony’s face.

“Mr. Cade, ” he said, not without dignity, “it is not, I hope, that you wish to make fun of me? ”

Anthony returned his gaze steadily.

“Baron, ” he said, and there was a curious note in his voice, “when this evening is over, I think you will be the first to admit that there is more earnest than jest about this business.”

Bowing to both the men, he left the room.

His next call was in the City where he sent in his card to Mr. Herman Isaacstein.

After some delay, Anthony was received by a pale and exquisitely dressed underling with an engaging manner, and a military title.

“You wanted to see Mr. Isaacstein, didn’t you? ” said the young man. “I’m afraid he’s most awfully busy this morning—board meetings and all that sort of thing, you know. Is it anything that I can do? ”

“I must see him personally, ” said Anthony, and added carelessly. “I’ve just come up from Chimneys.”

The young man was slightly staggered by the mention of Chimneys.

“Oh! ” he said doubtfully. “Well, I’ll see.”

“Tell him it’s important, ” said Anthony.

“Message from Lord Caterham? ” suggested the young man.

“Something of the kind, ” said Anthony, “but it’s imperative that I should see Mr. Isaacstein at once.”

Two minutes later, Anthony was conducted into a sumptuous inner sanctum where he was principally impressed by the immense size and roomy depths of the leather-covered arm-chairs.

Mr. Isaacstein rose to greet him.

“You must forgive my looking you up like this, ” said Anthony. “I know that you’re a busy man, and I’m not going to waste more of your time than I can help. It’s just a little matter of business that I want to put before you.”

Isaacstein looked at him attentively for a minute or two out of his beady black eyes.

“Have a cigar, ” he said unexpectedly, holding out an open box.

“Thank you, ” said Anthony. “I don’t mind if I do.”

He helped himself.

“It’s about this Herzoslovakian business, ” continued Anthony, as he accepted a match. He noted the momentary flickering of the other’s steady gaze. “The murder of Prince Michael must have rather upset the applecart.”

Mr. Isaacstein raised one eyebrow, murmured “Ah? ” interrogatively and transferred his gaze to the ceiling.

“Oil, ” said Anthony, thoughtfully surveying the polished surface of the desk. “Wonderful thing, oil.”

He felt the slight start the financier gave.

“Do you mind coming to the point, Mr. Cade? ”

“Not at all. I imagine, Mr. Isaacstein, that if those Oil concessions are granted to another company you won’t be exactly pleased about it? ”

“What’s the proposition? ” asked the other, looking straight at him.

“A suitable claimant to the throne, full of pro-British sympathies.”

“Where have you got him? ”

“That’s my business.”

Isaacstein acknowledged the retort by a slight smile, his glance had grown hard and keen.

“The genuine article? I can’t stand for any funny business.”

“The absolute genuine article.”

“Straight? ”

“Straight.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You don’t seem to take much convincing? ” said Anthony, looking curiously at him.

Herman Isaacstein smiled.

“I shouldn’t be where I am now if I hadn’t learnt to know whether a man is speaking the truth or not, ” he replied simply. “What terms do you want? ”

“The same loan, on the same conditions, that you offered to Prince Michael? ”

“What about yourself? ”

“For the moment, nothing, except that I want you to come down to Chimneys to-night.”

“No, ” said Isaacstein, with some decision. “I can’t do that.”

“Why? ”

“Dining out—rather an important dinner.”

“All the same, I’m afraid you’ll have to cut it out—for your own sake.”

“What do you mean? ”

Anthony looked at him for a full minute before he said slowly:

“Do you know that they’ve found the revolver, the one Michael was shot with? Do you know where they found it? In your suit-case.”

“What? ”

Isaacstein almost leapt from his chair. His face was frenzied.

“What are you saying? What do you mean? ”

“I’ll tell you.”

Very obligingly, Anthony narrated the occurrences in connection with the finding of the revolver. As he spoke the other’s face assumed a greyish tinge of absolute terror.

“But it’s false, ” he screamed out, as Anthony finished. “I never put it there. I know nothing about it. It is a plot.”

“Don’t excite yourself, ” said Anthony soothingly. “If that’s the case you’ll easily be able to prove it.”

“Prove it? How can I prove it? ”

“If I were you, ” said Anthony gently, “I’d come to Chimneys to-night.”

Isaacstein looked at him doubtfully.

“You advise it? ”

Anthony leant forward and whispered to him. The financier fell back in amazement, staring at him.

“You actually mean——”

“Come and see, ” said Anthony.

The 13th of October (contd.)

The clock in the Council Chamber struck nine.

“Well, ” said Lord Caterham, with a deep sigh. “Here they all are, just like little Bo Peep’s flock, back again and wagging their tails behind them.”

He looked sadly round the room.

“Organ grinder complete with monkey, ” he murmured, fixing the Baron with his eye. “Nosy Parker of Throgmorton Street——”

“I think you’re rather unkind to the Baron, ” protested Bundle, to whom these confidences were being poured out. “He told me that he considered you the perfect example of English hospitality amongst the _haute noblesse_.”

“I daresay, ” said Lord Caterham. “He’s always saying things like that. It makes him most fatiguing to talk to. But I can tell you I’m not nearly as much of the hospitable English gentleman as I was. As soon as I can, I shall let Chimneys to an enterprising American, and go and live in an hotel. There, if anyone worries you, you can just ask for your bill and go.”

“Cheer up, ” said Bundle. “We seem to have lost Mr. Fish for good.”

“I always found him rather amusing, ” said Lord Caterham, who was in a contradictory temper. “It’s that precious young man of yours who has let me in for this. Why should I have this Board meeting called in my house? Why doesn’t he rent The Larches or Elmhurst, or some nice villa residence like that at Streatham, and hold his company meetings there? ”

“Wrong atmosphere, ” said Bundle.

“No one is going to play any tricks on us, I hope? ” said her father nervously. “I don’t trust that French fellow, Lemoine. The French police are up to all sorts of dodges. Put India-rubber bands round your arm, and then reconstruct the crime and make you jump, and it’s registered on a thermometer. I know that when they call out ‘Who killed Prince Michael? ’ I shall register a hundred and twenty-two, or something perfectly frightful, and they’ll haul me off to gaol at once.”

The door opened and Tredwell announced:

“Mr. George Lomax. Mr. Eversleigh.”

“Enter Codders, followed by faithful dog, ” murmured Bundle.

Bill made a bee-line for her, whilst George greeted Lord Caterham in the genial manner he assumed for public occasions.

“My dear Caterham, ” said George, shaking him by the hand, “I got your message, and came over, of course.”

“Very good of you, my dear fellow, very good of you. Delighted to see you.” Lord Caterham’s conscience always drove him on to an excess of geniality when he was conscious of feeling none. “Not that it was my message, but that doesn’t matter at all.”

In the meantime, Bill was attacking Bundle in an undertone.

“I say. What’s it all about? What’s this I hear about Virginia bolting off in the middle of the night? She’s not been kidnapped, has she? ”

“Oh, no, ” said Bundle. “She left a note pinned to the pincushion in the orthodox fashion.”

“She’s not gone off with anyone, has she? Not with that Colonial Johnny? I never liked the fellow and, from all I hear, there seems to be an idea floating around that he himself is the super crook. But I don’t quite see how that can be? ”

“Why not? ”

“Well, this King Victor was a French fellow, and Cade’s English enough.”

“You don’t happen to have heard that King Victor was an accomplished linguist, and, moreover, was half Irish? ”

“Oh, Lord! Then that’s why he’s made himself scarce, is it? ”

“I don’t know about his making himself scarce. He disappeared the day before yesterday, as you know. But this morning we got a wire from him, saying he would be down here at 9 P.M. to-night, and suggesting that Codders should be asked over. All these other people have turned up as well—asked by Mr. Cade.”

“It is a gathering, ” said Bill, looking round. “One French detective by window, one English ditto by fireplace. Strong foreign element. The Stars and Stripes don’t seem to be represented? ”

Bundle shook her head.

“Mr. Fish has disappeared into the blue. Virginia’s not here either. But every one else is assembled, and I have a feeling in my bones, Bill, that we are drawing very near to the moment when somebody says ‘James, the footman, ’ and everything is revealed. We’re only waiting now for Anthony Cade to arrive.”

“He’ll never show up, ” said Bill.

“Then why call this company meeting, as Father calls it? ”

“Ah, there’s some deep idea behind that. Depend upon it. Wants us all here while he’s somewhere else—you know the sort of thing.”

“You don’t think he’ll come, then? ”

“No fear. Run his head into the lion’s mouth? Why, the room’s bristling with detectives and high officials.”

“You don’t know much about King Victor, if you think that would deter him. By all accounts, it’s the kind of situation he loves above all, and he always manages to come out on top.”

Mr. Eversleigh shook his head doubtfully.

“That would take some doing—with the dice loaded against him. He’ll never——”

The door opened again and Tredwell announced:

“Mr. Cade.”

Anthony came straight across to his host.

“Lord Caterham, ” he said, “I’m giving you a frightful lot of trouble, and I’m awfully sorry about it. But I really do think that to-night will see the clearing up of the mystery.”

Lord Caterham looked mollified. He had always had a secret liking for Anthony.

“No trouble at all, ” he said heartily.

“It’s very kind of you, ” said Anthony. “We’re all here, I see. Then I can get on with the good work.”

“I don’t understand, ” said George Lomax weightily. “I don’t understand in the least. This is all very irregular. Mr. Cade has no standing—no standing whatever. The position is a very difficult and delicate one. I am strongly of the opinion——”

George’s flood of eloquence was arrested. Moving unobtrusively to the great man’s side, Superintendent Battle whispered a few words in his ear. George looked perplexed and baffled.

“Very well, if you say so, ” he remarked grudgingly. Then added in a louder tone, “I’m sure we are all willing to listen to what Mr. Cade has to say.”

Anthony ignored the palpable condescension of the other’s tone.

“It’s just a little idea of mine, that’s all, ” he said cheerfully. “Probably all of you know that we got hold of a certain message in cipher the other day. There was a reference to Richmond, and some numbers.” He paused. “Well, we had a shot at solving it—and we failed. Now in the late Count Stylptitch’s Memoirs (which I happen to have read) there is a reference to a certain dinner—a ‘Flower’ dinner which every one attended wearing a badge representing a flower. The Count himself wore the exact duplicate of that curious device we found in the cavity in the secret passage. It represented a Rose. If you remember, it was all _rows_ of things—buttons, letter E’s, and finally rows of knitting. Now, gentlemen, what is there in this house that is arranged in rows? Books, isn’t that so? Add to that, that in the catalogue of Lord Caterham’s library there is a book called _The Life of the Earl of Richmond_, and I think you will get a very fair idea of the hiding-place. Starting at the volume in question, and using the numbers to denote shelves and books, I think you will find that the—er—object of our search is concealed in a dummy book, or in a cavity behind a particular book.”

Anthony looked round modestly, obviously waiting for applause.

“Upon my word, that’s very ingenious, ” said Lord Caterham.

“Quite ingenious, ” admitted George condescendingly. “But it remains to be seen——”

Anthony laughed.

“The proof of the pudding’s in the eating—eh? Well, I’ll soon settle that for you.” He sprang to his feet. “I’ll go to the library——”

He got no further. M. Lemoine moved forward from the window.

“Just one moment, Mr. Cade. You permit, Lord Caterham? ”

He went to the writing-table and hurriedly scribbled a few lines. He sealed them up in an envelope, and then rang the bell. Tredwell appeared in answer to it. Lemoine handed him the note.

“See that that is delivered at once, if you please.”

“Very good, sir, ” said Tredwell.

With his usual dignified tread he withdrew.

Anthony, who had been standing, irresolute, sat down again.

“What’s the big idea, Lemoine? ” he asked gently.

There was a sudden sense of strain in the atmosphere.

“If the jewel is where you say it is—well, it has been there for over seven years—a quarter of an hour more does not matter.”

“Go on, ” said Anthony. “That wasn’t all you wanted to say? ”

“No, it was not. At this juncture, it is—unwise to permit any one person to leave the room. Especially if that person has rather questionable antecedents.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows, and lighted a cigarette.

“I suppose a vagabond life is not very respectable, ” he mused.

“Two months ago, Mr. Cade, you were in South Africa. That is admitted. Where were you before that? ”

Anthony leaned back in his chair, idly blowing smoke rings.

“Canada. Wild North West.”

“Are you sure you were not in prison? A French prison? ”

Automatically, Superintendent Battle moved a step nearer the door, as if to cut off a retreat that way, but Anthony showed no signs of doing anything dramatic.

Instead, he stared at the French detective, and then burst out laughing.

“My poor Lemoine. It is a monomania with you! You do indeed see King Victor everywhere. So you fancy that I am that interesting gentleman? ”

“Do you deny it? ”

Anthony brushed a fleck of ash from his coat sleeve.

“I never deny anything that amuses me, ” he said lightly. “But the accusation is really too ridiculous.”

“Ah! you think so? ” The Frenchman leant forward. His face was twitching painfully, and yet he seemed perplexed and baffled—as though something in Anthony’s manner puzzled him. “What if I tell you, Monsieur, that this time—this time—I am out to get King Victor, and nothing shall stop me! ”

“Very laudable, ” was Anthony’s comment. “You’ve been out to get him before, though, haven’t you, Lemoine? And he’s got the better of you. Aren’t you afraid that that may happen again? He’s a slippery fellow, by all accounts.”

The conversation had developed into a duel between the detective and Anthony. Every one else in the room was conscious of the tension. It was a fight to a finish between the Frenchman, painfully in earnest, and the man who smoked so calmly and whose words seemed to show that he had not a care in the world.

“If I were you, Lemoine, ” continued Anthony, “I should be very, very careful. Watch your step, and all that sort of thing.”

“This time, ” said Lemoine grimly, “there will be no mistake.”

“You seem very sure about it all, ” said Anthony. “But there’s such a thing as evidence, you know.”

Lemoine smiled, and something in his smile seemed to attract Anthony’s attention. He sat up and stubbed out his cigarette.

“You saw that note I wrote just now? ” said the French detective. “It was to my people at the inn. Yesterday I received from France the fingerprints and the Bertillon measurements of King Victor—the so-called Captain O’Neill. I have asked for them to be sent up to me here. In a few minutes we shall _know_ whether you are the man! ”

Anthony stared steadily at him. Then a little smile crept over his face.

“You’re really rather clever, Lemoine. I never thought of that. The documents will arrive, you will induce me to dip my fingers in the ink, or something equally unpleasant, you will measure my ears and look for my distinguishing marks. And if they agree——”

“Well, ” said Lemoine, “if they agree—eh? ”

Anthony leaned forward in his chair.

“Well, if they do agree, ” he said very gently, “what then? ”

“What then? ” The detective seemed taken aback. “But—I shall have proved then that you are King Victor! ”

But for the first time, a shade of uncertainty crept into his manner.

“That will doubtless be a great satisfaction to you, ” said Anthony. “But I don’t quite see where it’s going to hurt me. I’m not admitting anything, but supposing, just for the sake of argument, that I was King Victor—I might be trying to repent, you know.”

“Repent? ”

“That’s the idea. Put yourself in King Victor’s place, Lemoine. Use your imagination. You’ve just come out of prison. You’re getting on in life. You’ve lost the first fine rapture of the adventurous life. Say, even, that you meet a beautiful girl. You think of marrying and settling down somewhere in the country where you can grow vegetable marrows. You decide from henceforth to lead a blameless life. Put yourself in King Victor’s place. Can’t you imagine feeling like that? ”

“I do not think that I should feel like that, ” said Lemoine with a sardonic smile.

“Perhaps you wouldn’t, ” admitted Anthony. “But then you’re not King Victor, are you? You can’t possibly know what he feels like.”

“But it is nonsense, what you are saying there, ” spluttered the Frenchman.

“Oh, no, it isn’t. Come now, Lemoine, if I’m King Victor, what have you against me after all? You could never get the necessary evidence in the old, old days, remember. I’ve served my sentence, and that’s all there is to it. I suppose you could arrest me for the French equivalent of ‘Loitering with intent to commit a felony, ’ but that would be poor satisfaction, wouldn’t it? ”

“You forget, ” said Lemoine. “America! How about this business of obtaining money under false pretences, and passing yourself off as Prince Nicholas Obolovitch? ”

“No good, Lemoine, ” said Anthony, “I was nowhere near America at the time. And I can prove that easily enough. If King Victor impersonated Prince Nicholas in America, then I’m not King Victor. You’re sure he _was_ impersonated? That it wasn’t the man himself? ”

Superintendent Battle suddenly interposed.

“The man was an impostor all right, Mr. Cade.”

“I wouldn’t contradict you, Battle, ” said Anthony. “You have such a habit of being always right. Are you equally sure that Prince Nicholas died in the Congo? ”

Battle looked at him curiously.

“I wouldn’t swear to that, sir. But it’s generally believed.”

“Careful man. What’s your motto? Plenty of rope, eh? I’ve taken a leaf out of your book. I’ve given M. Lemoine plenty of rope. I’ve not denied his accusations. But, all the same, I’m afraid he’s going to be disappointed. You see I always believe in having something up one’s sleeve. Anticipating that some little unpleasantness might arise here, I took the precaution to bring a trump card along with me. It—or rather he—is upstairs.”

“Upstairs? ” said Lord Caterham, very interested.

“Yes, he’s been having rather a trying time of it lately, poor fellow. Got a nasty bump on the head from some one. I’ve been looking after him.”

Suddenly the deep voice of Mr. Isaacstein broke in:

“Can we guess who he is? ”

“If you like, ” said Anthony, “but——”

Lemoine interrupted with sudden ferocity:

“All this is foolery. You think to outwit me yet again. It may be true what you say—that you were not in America. You are too clever to say it if it were not true. But there is something else. Murder! Yes, murder. The murder of Prince Michael. He interfered with you that night as you were looking for the jewel.”

“Lemoine, have you ever known King Victor to do murder? ” Anthony’s voice rang out sharply. “You know as well—better than I do, that he has never shed blood.”

“Who else but you could have murdered him? ” cried Lemoine. “Tell me that! ”

The last word died on his lips, as a shrill whistle sounded from the terrace outside. Anthony sprang up, all his assumed nonchalance laid aside.

“You ask me who murdered Prince Michael? ” he cried. “I won’t tell you—I’ll _show_ you. That whistle was the signal I’ve been waiting for. The murderer of Prince Michael is in the library now.”

He sprang out through the window, and the others followed him as he led the way round the terrace, until they came to the library window. He pushed the window, and it yielded to his touch.

Very softly he held aside the thick velvet curtain, so that they could look into the room.

Standing by the bookcase was a dark figure, hurriedly pulling out and replacing volumes, so absorbed in the task that no outside sound was heeded.

And then, as they stood watching, trying to recognize the figure that was vaguely silhouetted against the light of the electric torch it carried, some one sprang past them with a sound like the roar of a wild beast.

The torch fell to the ground, was extinguished, and the sounds of a terrific struggle filled the room. Lord Caterham groped his way to the lights and switched them on.

Two figures were swaying together. And as they looked the end came. The short sharp crack of a pistol shot, and the smaller figure crumpled up and fell. The other figure turned and faced them—it was Boris, his eyes alight with rage.

“She killed my Master, ” he growled. “Now she tries to shoot me. I would have taken the pistol from her and shot her, but it went off in the struggle. St. Michael directed it. The evil woman is dead.”

“A woman? ” cried George Lomax.

They drew nearer. On the floor, the pistol still clasped in her hand, and an expression of deadly malignity on her face, lay—Mademoiselle Brun.

King Victor

“I suspected her from the first, ” explained Anthony. “There was a light in her room on the night of the murder. Afterwards, I wavered. I made inquiries about her in Brittany, and came back satisfied that she was what she represented herself to be. I was a fool. Because the Comtesse de Breteuil had employed a Mademoiselle Brun and spoke highly of her, it never occurred to me that the real Mademoiselle Brun might have been kidnapped on her way to her new post, and that it might be a substitute taking her place. Instead I shifted my suspicions to Mr. Fish. It was not until he had followed me to Dover, and we had had a mutual explanation that I began to see clearly. Once I knew that he was a Pinkerton’s man, trailing King Victor, my suspicions swung back again to their original object.

“The thing that worried me most was that Mrs. Revel had definitely recognized the woman. Then I remembered that it was only _after_ I had mentioned her being Madame de Breteuil’s governess. And all she had said was that that accounted for the fact that the woman’s face was familiar to her. Superintendent Battle will tell you that a deliberate plot was formed to keep Mrs. Revel from coming to Chimneys. Nothing more nor less than a dead body, in fact. And though the murder was the work of the Comrades of the Red Hand, punishing supposed treachery on the part of the victim, the staging of it, and the absence of the Comrades’ sign manual, pointed to some abler intelligence directing operations. From the first, I suspected some connection with Herzoslovakia. Mrs. Revel was the only member of the house party who had been to the country. I suspected at first that some one was impersonating Prince Michael, but that proved to be a totally erroneous idea. When I realized the possibility of Mademoiselle Brun’s being an impostor, and added to that the fact that her face was familiar to Mrs. Revel, I began to see daylight. It was evidently very important that she should not be recognized, and Mrs. Revel was the only person likely to do so.”

“But who was she? ” said Lord Caterham. “Some one Mrs. Revel had known in Herzoslovakia? ”

“I think the Baron might be able to tell us, ” said Anthony.

“I? ” The Baron stared at him, then down at the motionless figure.

“Look well, ” said Anthony. “Don’t be put off by the make-up. She was an actress once, remember.”

The Baron stared again. Suddenly he started.

“God in heaven, ” he breathed, “it is not possible.”

“What is not possible? ” asked George. “Who is the lady? You recognize her, Baron? ”

“No, no, it is not possible.” The Baron continued to mutter. “She was killed. They were both killed. On the steps of the Palace. Her body was recovered.”

“Mutilated and unrecognizable, ” Anthony reminded him. “She managed to put up a bluff. I think she escaped to America, and has spent a good many years lying low in deadly terror of the Comrades of the Red Hand. They promoted the Revolution, remember, and, to use an expressive phrase, they always had it in for her. Then King Victor was released, and they planned to recover the diamond together. She was searching for it that night when she came suddenly upon Prince Michael, and he recognized her. There was never much fear of her meeting him in the ordinary way of things. Royal guests don’t come in contact with governesses, and she could always retire with a convenient _migraine_, as she did the day the Baron was here.

“However, she met Prince Michael face to face when she least expected it. Exposure and disgrace stared her in the face. She shot him. It was she who placed the revolver in Isaacstein’s suit-case, so as to confuse the trail, and she who returned the letters.”

Lemoine moved forward.

“She was coming down to search for the jewel that night, you say, ” he said. “Might she not have been going to meet her accomplice, King Victor, who was coming from outside? Eh? What do you say to that? ”

Anthony sighed.

“Still at it, my dear Lemoine? How persistent you are! You won’t take my hint that I’ve got a trump card up my sleeve? ”

But George, whose mind worked slowly, now broke in.

“I am still completely at sea. Who was this lady, Baron? You recognize her, it seems? ”

But the Baron drew himself up and stood very straight and stiff.

“You are in error, Mr. Lomax. To my knowledge I have not this lady seen before. A complete stranger she is to me.”

“But——”

George stared at him—bewildered.

The Baron took him into a corner of the room, and murmured something into his ear. Anthony watched, with a good deal of enjoyment, George’s face turning slowly purple, his eyes bulging, and all the incipient symptoms of apoplexy. A murmur of George’s throaty voice came to him.

“Certainly ... certainly ... by all means ... no need at all ... complicate situation ... utmost discretion.”

“Ah! ” Lemoine hit the table sharply with his hand. “I do not care about all this! The murder of Prince Michael—that was not my affair. I want King Victor.”

Anthony shook his head gently.

“I’m sorry for you, Lemoine. You’re really a very able fellow. But, all the same, you’re going to lose the trick. I’m about to play my trump card.”

He stepped across the room and rang the bell. Tredwell answered it.

“A gentleman arrived with me this evening, Tredwell.”

“Yes, sir, a foreign gentleman.”

“Quite so. Will you kindly ask him to join us here as soon as possible? ”

“Yes, sir.”

Tredwell withdrew.

“Entry of the trump card, the mysterious Monsieur X, ” remarked Anthony. “_Who is he? _ Can anyone guess? ”

“Putting two and two together, ” said Herman Isaacstein, “what with your mysterious hints this morning, and your attitude this afternoon, I should say there was no doubt about it. Somehow or other you’ve managed to get hold of Prince Nicholas of Herzoslovakia.”

“You think the same, Baron? ”

“I do. Unless yet another impostor you have put forward. But that I will not believe. With me, your dealings most honourable have been.”

“Thank you, Baron. I shan’t forget those words. So you are all agreed? ”

His eyes swept round the circle of waiting faces. Only Lemoine did not respond, but kept his eyes fixed sullenly on the table.

Anthony’s quick ears had caught the sound of footsteps outside in the hall.

“And yet, you know, ” he said with a queer smile, “you’re all wrong! ”

He crossed swiftly to the door and flung it open.

A man stood on the threshold—a man with a neat black beard, eyeglasses, and a foppish appearance slightly marred by a bandage round the head.

“_Allow me to present you to the real Monsieur Lemoine of the Sûreté._”

There was a rush and a scuffle, and then the nasal tones of Mr. Hiram Fish rose bland and reassuring from the window.

“No, you don’t, Sonny—not this way. I have been stationed here this whole evening for the particular purpose of preventing your escape. You will observe that I have you covered well and good with this gun of mine. I came over to get you, and I’ve got you—but you sure are some lad! ”

Further Explanations

“You owe us an explanation, I think, Mr. Cade, ” said Herman Isaacstein, somewhat later in the evening.

“There’s nothing much to explain, ” said Anthony modestly. “I went to Dover and Fish followed me under the impression that I was King Victor. We found a mysterious stranger imprisoned there, and as soon as we heard his story we knew where we were. The same idea again, you see. The real man kidnapped, and the false one—in this case King Victor himself—takes his place. But it seems that Battle here always thought there was something fishy about his French colleague, and wired to Paris for his fingerprints and other means of identification.”

“Ah! ” cried the Baron. “The fingerprints. The Bertillon measurements that that scoundrel talked about? ”

“It was a clever idea, ” said Anthony. “I admired it so much that I felt forced to play up. Besides, my doing so puzzled the false Lemoine enormously. You see, as soon as I had given the tip about the ‘rows’ and where the jewel really was, he was keen to pass on the news to his accomplice, and at the same time to keep us all in that room. The note was really to Mademoiselle Brun. He told Tredwell to deliver it at once, and Tredwell did so by taking it upstairs to the schoolroom. Lemoine accused me of being King Victor, by that means creating a diversion and preventing anyone from leaving the room. By the time all that had been cleared up and we adjourned to the library to look for the stone, he flattered himself that the stone would be no longer there to find! ”

George cleared his throat.

“I must say, Mr. Cade, ” he said pompously, “that I consider your action in that matter highly reprehensible. If the slightest hitch had occurred in your plans, one of our national possessions might have disappeared beyond the hope of recovery. It was foolhardy, Mr. Cade, reprehensibly foolhardy.”

“I guess you haven’t tumbled to the little idea, Mr. Lomax, ” said the drawling voice of Mr. Fish. “That historic diamond was never behind the books in the library.”

“Never? ”

“Not on your life.”

“You see, ” explained Anthony, “that little device of Count Stylptitch’s stood for what it had originally stood for—a Rose. When that dawned upon me on Monday afternoon, I went straight to the Rose Garden. Mr. Fish had already tumbled to the same idea. If, standing with your back to the sundial, you take seven paces straight forward, then eight to the left and three to the right, you come to some bushes of a bright red rose called Richmond. The house has been ransacked to find the hiding-place, but nobody has thought of digging in the garden. I suggest a little digging party to-morrow morning.”

“Then the story about the books in the library—”

“An invention of mine to trap the lady. Mr. Fish kept watch on the terrace, and whistled when the psychological moment had arrived. I may say that Mr. Fish and I established martial law at the Dover house, and prevented the Comrades from communicating with the false Lemoine. He sent them an order to clear out, and word was conveyed to him that this had been done. So he went happily ahead with his plans for denouncing me.”

“Well, well, ” said Lord Caterham cheerfully, “everything seems to have been cleared up most satisfactorily.”

“Everything but one thing, ” said Mr. Isaacstein.

“What is that? ”

The great financier looked steadily at Anthony.

“What did you get me down here for? Just to assist at a dramatic scene as an interested onlooker.”

Anthony shook his head.

“No, Mr. Isaacstein. You are a busy man whose time is money. Why did you come down here originally? ”

“To negotiate a loan.”

“With whom? ”

“Prince Michael of Herzoslovakia.”

“Exactly. Prince Michael is dead. Are you prepared to offer the same loan on the same terms to his cousin Nicholas? ”

“Can you produce him? I thought he was killed in the Congo? ”

“He was killed all right. I killed him. Oh, no, I’m not a murderer. When I say I killed him, I mean that I spread the report of his death. I promised you a Prince, Mr. Isaacstein. Will _I_ do? ”

“You? ”

“Yes, I’m the man. Nicholas Sergius Alexander Ferdinand Obolovitch. Rather long for the kind of life I proposed to live, so I emerged from the Congo as plain Anthony Cade.”

Little Captain Andrassy sprang up.

“But this is incredible—incredible, ” he spluttered. “Have a care, sir, what you say.”

“I can give you plenty of proofs, ” said Anthony quietly. “I think I shall be able to convince the Baron here.”

The Baron lifted his hand.

“Your proofs I will examine, yes. But of them for me there is no need. Your word alone sufficient for me is. Besides, your English mother you much resemble. All along have I said: ‘This young man on one side or the other most highly born is’.”

“You have always trusted my word, Baron, ” said Anthony. “I can assure you that in the days to come I shall not forget.”

Then he looked over at Superintendent Battle whose face had remained perfectly expressionless.

“You can understand, ” said Anthony with a smile, “that my position has been extremely precarious. Of all those in the house I might be supposed to have the best reason for wishing Michael Obolovitch out of the way, since I was the next heir to the Throne. I’ve been extraordinarily afraid of Battle all along. I always felt that he suspected me, but that he was held up by lack of motive.”

“I never believed for a minute that you’d shot him, sir, ” said Superintendent Battle. “We’ve got a feeling in such matters. But I knew that you were afraid of something, and you puzzled me. If I’d known sooner who you really were, I dare say I’d have yielded to the evidence, and arrested you.”

“I’m glad I managed to keep one guilty secret from you. You wormed everything else out of me all right. You’re a damned good man at your job, Battle. I shall always think of Scotland Yard with respect.”

“Most amazing, ” muttered George. “Most amazing story I ever heard. I—I can really hardly believe it. You are quite sure, Baron, that——”

“My dear Mr. Lomax, ” said Anthony, with a slight hardness in his tone, “I have no intention of asking the British Foreign Office to support my claim without bringing forward the most convincing documentary evidence. I suggest that we adjourn now, and that you, the Baron, Mr. Isaacstein and myself discuss the terms of the proposed loan.”

The Baron rose to his feet, and clicked his heels together.

“It will be the proudest moment of my life, sir, ” he said solemnly, “when I see you King of Herzoslovakia.”

“Oh, by the way, Baron, ” said Anthony carelessly, slipping his hand through the other’s arm, “I forgot to tell you. There’s a string tied to this. I’m married, you know.”

The Baron retreated a step or two. Dismay overspread his countenance.

“Something wrong I knew there would be, ” he boomed. “Merciful God in Heaven! He has married a black woman in Africa! ”

“Come, come, it’s not so bad as all that, ” said Anthony, laughing. “She’s white enough—white all through, bless her.”

“Good. A respectable morganatic affair it can be, then.”

“Not a bit of it. She’s to play Queen to my King. It’s no use shaking your head. She’s fully qualified for the post. She’s the daughter of an English peer who dates back to the time of the Conqueror. It’s very fashionable just now for Royalties to marry into the aristocracy—and she knows something of Herzoslovakia.”

“My God! ” cried George Lomax, startled out of his usual careful speech. “Not—not—Virginia Revel? ”

“Yes, ” said Anthony. “Virginia Revel.”

“My dear fellow, ” cried Lord Caterham, “I mean—sir, I congratulate you, I do indeed. A delightful creature.”

“Thank you, Lord Caterham, ” said Anthony. “She’s all you say and more.”

But Mr. Isaacstein was regarding him curiously.

“You’ll excuse my asking your Highness, but when did this marriage take place? ”

Anthony smiled back at him.

“As a matter of fact, ” he said, “I married her this morning.”

Anthony Signs on for a New Job

“If you will go on, gentlemen, I will follow you in a minute, ” said Anthony.

He waited whilst the others filed out, and then turned to where Superintendent Battle was standing apparently absorbed in examining the panelling.

“Well, Battle? Want to ask me something, don’t you? ”

“Well, I do, sir, though I don’t know how you knew I did. But I always marked you out as being specially quick in the uptake. I take it that the lady who is dead was the late Queen Varaga? ”

“Quite right, Battle. It’ll be hushed up, I hope. You can understand what I feel about family skeletons.”

“Trust Mr. Lomax for that, sir. No one will ever know. That is, a lot of people will know, but it won’t get about.”

“Was that what you wanted to ask me about? ”

“No, sir—that was only in passing. I was curious to know just what made you drop your own name—if I’m not taking too much of a liberty? ”

“Not a bit. I’ll tell you. I killed myself from the purest motives, Battle. My mother was English, I’d been educated in England, and I was far more interested in England than in Herzoslovakia. And I felt an absolute fool knocking about the world with a comic opera title tacked on to me. You see, when I was very young, I had democratic ideas. Believed in the purity of ideals, and the equality of all men. I especially disbelieved in Kings and Princes.”

“And since then? ” asked Battle shrewdly.

“Oh, since then, I’ve travelled and seen the world. There’s damned little equality going about. Mind you, I still believe in democracy. But you’ve got to force it on people with a strong hand—ram it down their throats. Men don’t want to be brothers—they may some day, but they don’t now. My final belief in the Brotherhood of Man died the day I arrived in London last week, when I observed the people standing in a Tube train resolutely refuse to move up and make room for those who entered. You won’t turn people into angels by appealing to their better natures just yet awhile—but by judicious force you can coerce them into behaving more or less decently to one another to go on with. I still believe in the Brotherhood of Man, but it’s not coming yet awhile. Say another ten thousand years or so. It’s no good being impatient. Evolution is a slow process.”

“I’m very interested in these views of yours, sir, ” said Battle with a twinkle. “And if you’ll allow me to say so, I’m sure you’ll make a very fine King out there.”

“Thank you, Battle, ” said Anthony with a sigh.

“You don’t seem very happy about it, sir? ”

“Oh, I don’t know. I dare say it will be rather fun. But it’s tying oneself down to regular work. I’ve always avoided that before.”

“But you consider it your duty, I suppose, sir? ”

“Good Lord, no! What an idea. It’s a woman—it’s always a woman, Battle. I’d do more than be a King for her sake.”

“Quite so, sir.”

“I’ve arranged it so that the Baron and Isaacstein can’t kick. The one wants a King and the other wants oil. They’ll both get what they want, and I’ve got—Oh, Lord, Battle, have you ever been in love? ”

“I am much attached to Mrs. Battle, sir.”

“Much attached to Mrs.—Oh, you don’t know what I’m talking about! It’s entirely different! ”

“Excuse me, sir, that man of yours is waiting outside the window.”

“Boris? So he is. He’s a wonderful fellow. It’s a mercy that pistol went off in the struggle and killed the lady. Otherwise Boris would have wrung her neck as sure as Fate, and then you would have wanted to hang him. His attachment to the Obolovitch dynasty is remarkable. The queer thing was that as soon as Michael was dead he attached himself to me—and yet he couldn’t possibly have known who I really was.”

“Instinct, ” said Battle. “Like a dog.”

“Very awkward instinct I thought it at the time. I was afraid it might give the show away to you. I suppose I’d better see what he wants.”

He went out through the window. Superintendent Battle, left alone, looked after him for a minute, then apparently addressed the panelling.

“He’ll do, ” said Superintendent Battle.

Outside, Boris explained himself.

“Master, ” said he, and led the way along the terrace.

Anthony followed him, wondering what was forward.

Presently Boris stopped and pointed with his forefinger. It was moonlight, and in front of them was a stone seat on which sat two figures.

“He _is_ a dog, ” said Anthony to himself. “And what’s more, a pointer! ”

He strode forward. Boris melted into the shadows.

The two figures rose to meet him. One of them was Virginia—the other——

“Hullo, Joe, ” said a well remembered voice. “This is a great girl of yours.”

“Jimmy McGrath, by all that’s wonderful, ” cried Anthony. “How in the name of fortune did you get here? ”

“That trip of mine into the interior went phut. Then some Dagos came monkeying round. Wanted to buy that manuscript off me. Next thing I as near as nothing got a knife in the back one night. That made me think that I’d handed you out a bigger job than I knew. I thought you might need help, and I came along after you by the very next boat.”

“Wasn’t it splendid of him? ” said Virginia. She squeezed Jimmy’s arm. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how frightfully nice he was? You are, Jimmy, you’re a perfect dear.”

“You two seem to be getting along all right, ” said Anthony.

“Sure thing, ” said Jimmy. “I was snooping round for news of you, when I connected with this dame. She wasn’t at all what I thought she’d be—some swell haughty Society lady that’d scare the life out of me.”

“He told me all about the letters, ” said Virginia. “And I feel almost ashamed not to have been in real trouble over them when he was such a knight-errant.”

“If I’d known what you were like, ” said Jimmy gallantly, “I’d not have given him the letters. I’d have brought them to you myself. Say, young man, is the fun really over? Is there nothing for me to do? ”

“By Jove, ” said Anthony, “there is! Wait a minute.”

He disappeared into the house. In a minute or two he returned with a paper package which he cast into Jimmy’s arms.

“Go round to the garage and help yourself to a likely looking car. Beat it to London and deliver that parcel at 17, Everdean Square. That’s Mr. Balderson’s private address. In exchange he’ll hand you a thousand pounds.”

“What? It’s not the Memoirs? I understood that they’d been burnt.”

“What do you take me for? ” demanded Anthony. “You don’t think I’d fall for a story like that, do you? I rang up the publishers at once, found out that the other was a fake call, and arranged accordingly. I made up a dummy package as I’d been directed to do. But I put the real package in the Manager’s safe and handed over the dummy. The Memoirs have never been out of my possession.”

“Bully for you, my son, ” said Jimmy.

“Oh, Anthony, ” cried Virginia. “You’re not going to let them be published? ”

“I can’t help myself. I can’t let a pal like Jimmy down. But you needn’t worry. I’ve had time to wade through them, and I see now why people always hint that bigwigs don’t write their own reminiscences but hire some one to do it for them. As a writer, Stylptitch is an insufferable bore. He proses on about statecraft, and doesn’t go in for any racy and indiscreet anecdotes. His ruling passion of secrecy held strong to the end. There’s not a word in the Memoirs from beginning to end to flutter the susceptibilities of the most difficult politician. I rang up Balderson to-day, and arranged with him that I’d deliver the manuscript to-night before midnight. But Jimmy can do his own dirty work now that’s he’s here.”

“I’m off, ” said Jimmy. “I like the idea of that thousand pounds—especially when I’d made up my mind I was down and out.”

“Half a second, ” said Anthony. “I’ve got a confession to make to you, Virginia. Something that every one else knows, but that I haven’t yet told you.”

“I don’t mind how many strange women you’ve loved so long as you don’t tell me about them.”

“Women! ” said Anthony, with a virtuous air. “Women indeed? You ask James here what kind of women I was going about with last time he saw me.”

“Frumps, ” said Jimmy solemnly. “Utter frumps. Not one a day under forty-five.”

“Thank you, Jimmy, ” said Anthony, “you’re a true friend. No, it’s much worse than that. I’ve deceived you as to my real name.”

“Is it very dreadful? ” said Virginia, with interest. “It isn’t something silly like Pobbles, is it? Fancy being called Mrs. Pobbles.”

“You are always thinking the worst of me.”

“I admit that I did once think you were King Victor, but only for about a minute and a half.”

“By the way, Jimmy, I’ve got a job for you—gold prospecting in the rocky fastnesses of Herzoslovakia.”

“Is there gold there? ” asked Jimmy eagerly.

“Sure to be, ” said Anthony. “It’s a wonderful country.”

“So you’re taking my advice and going there? ”

“Yes, ” said Anthony. “Your advice was worth more than you knew. Now for the confession. I wasn’t changed at nurse, or anything romantic like that, but nevertheless I am really Prince Nicholas Obolovitch of Herzoslovakia.”

“Oh, Anthony, ” cried Virginia. “How perfectly screaming! And I have married you! What are we going to do about it? ”

“We’ll go to Herzoslovakia and pretend to be Kings and Queens. Jimmy McGrath once said that the average life of a King or Queen out there is under four years. I hope you don’t mind? ”

“Mind? ” cried Virginia. “I shall love it! ”

“Isn’t she great? ” murmured Jimmy.

Then, discreetly, he faded into the night. A few minutes later the sound of a car was heard.

“Nothing like letting a man do his own dirty work, ” said Anthony, with satisfaction. “Besides, I didn’t know how else to get rid of him. Since we were married I’ve not had one minute alone with you.”

“We’ll have a lot of fun, ” said Virginia. “Teaching the brigands not to be brigands, and the assassins not to assassinate, and generally improving the moral tone of the country.”

“I like to hear these pure ideals, ” said Anthony. “It makes me feel my sacrifice has not been in vain.”

“Rot, ” said Virginia calmly, “you’ll enjoy being a King. It’s in your blood, you know. You were brought up to the trade of Royalty, and you’ve got a natural aptitude for it, just like plumbers have a natural bent for plumbing.”

“I never think they have, ” said Anthony. “But damn it all, don’t let’s waste time talking about plumbers. Do you know that at this very minute I’m supposed to be deep in conference with Isaacstein and old Lollipop? They want to talk about oil. Oil, my God! They can just await my kingly pleasure. Virginia, do you remember my telling you once that I’d have a damned good try to make you care for me.”

“I remember, ” said Virginia softly. “But Superintendent Battle was looking out of the window.”

“Well, he isn’t now, ” said Anthony.

He caught her suddenly to him, kissing her eyelids, her lips, the green gold of her hair....

“I do love you so, Virginia, ” he whispered. “I do love you so. Do you love me? ”

He looked down at her—sure of the answer.

Her head rested against his shoulder, and very low, in a sweet shaken voice, she answered:

“Not a bit! ”

“You little devil, ” cried Anthony, kissing her again. “Now I know for certain that I shall love you until I die....”

Sundry Details

Scene—Chimneys, 11 A.M. Thursday morning.

Johnson, the police constable, with his coat off, digging.

Something in the nature of a funeral feeling seems to be in the air. The friends and relations stand round the grave that Johnson is digging.

George Lomax has the air of the principal beneficiary under the will of the deceased. Superintendent Battle, with his immovable face, seems pleased that the funeral arrangements have gone so nicely. As the undertaker, it reflects credit upon him. Lord Caterham has that solemn and shocked look which Englishmen assume when a religious ceremony is in progress.

Mr. Fish does not fit into the picture so well. He is not sufficiently grave.

Johnson bends to his task. Suddenly he straightens up. A little stir of excitement passes round.

“That’ll do, sonny, ” says Mr. Fish. “We shall do nicely now.”

One perceives at once that he is really the family physician.

Johnson retires. Mr. Fish, with due solemnity, stoops over the excavation. The surgeon is about to operate.

He brings out a small canvas package. With much ceremony he hands it to Superintendent Battle. The latter, in his turn, hands it to George Lomax. The etiquette of the situation has now been fully complied with.

George Lomax unwraps the package, slits up the oil-silk inside it, burrows into further wrapping. For a moment he holds something on the palm of his hand—then quickly shrouds it once more in cotton wool.

He clears his throat.

“At this auspicious minute, ” he begins, with the clear delivery of the practised speaker.

Lord Caterham beats a precipitate retreat. On the terrace he finds his daughter.

“Bundle, is that car of yours in order? ”

“Yes. Why? ”

“Then take me up to town in it immediately. I’m going abroad at once—to-day.”

“But, father——”

“Don’t argue with me, Bundle. George Lomax told me when he arrived this morning that he was anxious to have a few words with me privately on a matter of the utmost delicacy. He added that the King of Timbuctoo was arriving in London shortly. I won’t go through it again, Bundle, do you hear? Not for fifty George Lomaxes! If Chimneys is so valuable to the nation, let the nation buy it. Otherwise I shall sell it to a syndicate and they can turn it into an hotel.”

“Where is Codders now? ”

Bundle is rising to the situation.

“At the present minute, ” replied Lord Caterham, looking at his watch, “he is good for at least fifteen minutes about the Empire.”

Another picture.

Mr. Bill Eversleigh, not invited to be present at the graveside ceremony, at the telephone.

“No, really, I mean it.... I say, don’t be huffy.... Well, you will have supper to-night anyway? ... No, I haven’t. I’ve been kept to it with my nose at the grindstone. You’ve no idea what Codders is like.... I say, Dolly, you know jolly well what I think about you.... You know I’ve never cared for anyone but you.... Yes, I’ll come to the show first. How does the old wheeze go? ‘And the little girl tries, Hooks and Eyes’....”

Unearthly sounds. Mr. Eversleigh trying to hum the refrain in question.

And now George’s peroration draws to a close.

... “the lasting peace and prosperity of the British Empire! ”

“I guess, ” said Mr. Hiram Fish _sotto voce_ to himself and the world at large, “that this has been a great little old week.”

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Scene—Chimneys, 11 A.M. Thursday morning.

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