Books: Number Seventeen
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Louis Tracy >> Number Seventeen
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"Have you informed Scotland Yard?" said Theydon.
"No. I dared not use the telephone. I could not leave my wife. She is
far more shaken than she thinks. Ever since her return she has
followed me if I even walked across the room. It was pitiful. I had to
lie to her when the butler brought this infernal note. She saw it was
typed, and believed my explanation that it was a mere record of an
office cablegram."
"Give it to me," said Theydon. "Mr. Handyside and I must leave you
now. We'll take it to Scotland Yard. Mr. Winter ought to know of it.
In all likelihood he is arranging to remain in the Croydon house
tonight, and, if Wong Li Fu is telling the truth, which is highly
probable, the local police can watch the place adequately."
"Yes. You're right, of course. I should have seen that an hour ago,
but my brain is on fire owing to the torture these fiends have
devised."
"Are you quite safe here? It is an absurd question, but I would like
to feel assured on that point. Shall I return, and strengthen your
guard?"
"I'm exceedingly obliged to you, but, in addition to two of my
servants, thoroughly trustworthy men, a detective sergeant and
constable have come from Scotland Yard. They are now having supper.
When the household retires for the night two will remain in this room,
with the door open, and two in the butler's room, which commands the
other staircase. Moreover a constable will patrol this side of the
square, and a second one the back of the premises, until long after
daybreak."
"Tell you what," said Handyside, when he and Theydon were in a taxi,
and had made certain they were not being followed, "tell you what,
son, you've struck a bonanza in this Chinese drama."
"What do you mean?" said Theydon.
"Well, I guess you're the curly-haired boy where Miss Evelyn is
concerned."
"Like most Americans, you jump at conclusions," was the ungracious
reply.
"And, like most Americans, I'm right nearly all the time," said
Handyside dryly.
"Surely one can hardly discuss such a matter."
"Why not? If a proposition sounds hard, chew on it, and may be you'll
get your teeth into it somehow."
Theydon nearly allowed himself to become angry. Was his hopeless
admiration for Evelyn Forbes so patent that a sharp-eyed stranger
could discern it after a brief hour in their company?
"Millionaires' daughters marry poor men only in novels and on the
stage," he said bitterly. "In real life, and in England, they take
unto themselves titles and landed estates."
"I guess Wong Li Fu will have to round you up some more," was the
cryptic answer, and Handyside forthwith plunged airily into some
wholly different topic.
At Scotland Yard they inquired for Furneaux, and were told he had not
reported at headquarters since the early afternoon. So Theydon was
introduced to another representative of the department, and handed
over the typed note; the detective promised that its purport should be
telephoned to Croydon without delay.
When the two reached the Embankment again, Theydon felt unaccountably
tired, and was minded to take leave of his companion then and there.
But Handyside placed an unerring finger on the cause of his weariness.
"Say, Mr. Theydon," he cried, "I don't know what food product
arrangements you've made all day, but I couldn't have eaten less since
breakfast if Wong Li Fu was sitting over me with a pistol. How about a
square meal? Come to my hotel, and I'll start the chef on a nice
little menoo while we're having a wash and a brush up."
"By Jove! Now I know what is the matter with me," was the astonishing
answer. "I have lunched and dined on a cup of tea at Eastbourne."
"Guess I'm fifteen years older than you, so I knew my trouble all the
time. Those people in Fortescue Square were so rattled that they never
thought of asking us to eat. Come right along. It's only a step."
"I'll come with pleasure. I owe you some money, too, which I was
nearly forgetting."
"What do you owe for?"
"Railway tickets, and taxis, and motor-cycles, to begin with."
"No, sir," said the American decisively. "I've had the cheapest day's
amusement I've ever dreamed of. On balance I owe you one sovereign. As
for those half-tickets from Eastbourne I wouldn't sell them for
dollars and cents. When I get back to my home, 21,097 Park Avenue,
Chicago, I'll have those bits of cardboard framed, and when some
particular friend asks the reason I'll tell him, suppressing names of
course, and he'll go away thinking that George T. Handyside is the
biggest liar in the State of Illinois, which is some pumpkin, you
bet."
"What beats me," rejoined Theydon, "is how you remember where you
live. You must have a marvelous head for figures."
So they dined well, and wined moderately, and Theydon walked to
Innesmore Mansions, thinking of little else in the world except of the
moment when he held Evelyn Forbes in his arms, almost in an embrace,
and he had dared, nearly, if not quite, to kiss her.
As he drew near Innesmore Mansions, however, be kept his wits about
him. One of the most remarkable features of a series of remarkable
crimes was the thorough command of the resources of civilization
exhibited by the Young Manchus. A few days earlier he would not have
dared to introduce into a story of his own an association composed
exclusively of Chinamen which adapted to its needs the motor car, the
messenger boy, perhaps the telephone and telegraph, to say nothing of
the advertising columns of the daily press.
It was monstrous to imagine that a number of Orientals-- marked men,
every one, no matter what disguises they might adopt-- should dare bid
defiance to the forces of the British Constitution in order that they
might wreak vengeance on those more enlightened compatriots who wished
to see their country rescued from the effete control of a puppet
Emperor.
But Theydon was now some days older and many degrees wiser. He knew
that the wildly improbable had become dogged fact, that Chinese
fanaticism, tigerish in its crafty and utter cold-bloodedness, was
setting at naught not only the ordinances of the law, but the
brightest intellects whose duty it was to make that law respected.
It behooved him, therefore, to lend a sharp eye to his own safety, and
never a vehicle or pedestrian came near while he traversed the quiet
streets in the neighborhood of Innesmore Mansions that he did not give
the closest attention to cab or wayfarer, as the case might be.
As it happened, that quarter of London was singularly deserted. The
first flight of people homeward-bound from the theaters was well over;
the later contingent, supping in restaurants, had not begun to arrive.
Save for the slow-moving figure of a policeman the long front of the
mansions themselves was devoid of life.
Nevertheless, it was with a feeling of relief that he turned the key
in the lock of No. 18, and heard the scraping of a chair on the
kitchen floor as Bates rose to meet him.
"Hello, Bates!" he cried wearily, "here I am again, you see! Anything
new or interesting during my absence?"
"Mrs. Paxton--" began the valet, stopping when his master uttered a
sharp exclamation. Theydon had completely forgotten Miss Beale and his
sister.
"Yes," he said. "Sorry I interrupted you. What of Mrs. Paxton?"
"I saw her, sir, as you ordered, and she promised to call on Miss
Beale. She kem here about an hour ago--"
"Who? My sister?"
"Yes, sir. She was anxious to see you. From what I could gather, sir,
the two ladies had bin puttin' their heads together, and agreed that
this Chinese business has a nasty look, an' you'd better keep out of
it."
"What Chinese business, Bates?"
"Well, sir, Miss Beale will 'ave it that Mrs. Lester was killed by a
Chinaman, an' one of the police on duty in this district told me a
little while ago that he saw no less than three Chinamen prowlin'
round here last Monday between dusk and dark."
Theydon drew a deep breath. If there was gossip going on about
"Chinamen" in connection with the murder in No. 17 the newspapers
would soon be getting hold of it. The arrest of Len Shi by Furneaux
must be reported. Possibly some newspaper correspondent in Eastbourne
would hear of the kidnaping exploit, and describe the Eastern aspect
of its chief actor, Mrs. Forbes's name would "transpire" in the
paragraph, and, by putting two and two together the lynx-eyed
journalism of London would ferret out a good deal of the truth.
"Ladies very often talk nonsense about such things," he said sharply.
"Why should any Chinaman single out poor Mrs. Lester as a victim? I
think the inquiry may be left safely to Scotland Yard. Have you seen
the evening papers? I'll bet you sixpence nothing was said at the
inquest concerning Chinamen?"
"No, sir. That's true. However, Mrs. Paxton wants you to ring her up."
"Why?"
"She wants to be sure you are safe home."
Theydon laughed. "How can I?" he cried. "She is not on the telephone."
"Mrs. Paxton left a number, sir. If you give them a call it will be
taken to her."
Theydon shook his head good-humoredly but obeyed. A voice at the other
end answered:
"Will you oblige me by telling Mrs. Paxton that I took an American
friend to Eastbourne this afternoon and returned by a late trains" he
said.
"Who is it, please?"
"Mr. Theydon, Mrs. Paxton's brother."
"O, I have a message for you. Miss Beale is staying with Mrs. Paxton
tonight. There was a Chinaman in her hotel, and she didn't like it."
Theydon controlled his feelings sufficiently to thank his informant.
He really wanted to say something crude.
"Gad!" he muttered, when he had rung off, "these women have Chinamen
on the brain. Look here Bates," he added emphatically, "I hope you
won't lend an ear to this nonsense. You've seen no Chinamen, I
supposed?"
"No, sir."
"If you do see one, tell me, and I'll get to know his business, pretty
quick."
"Yes, sir."
"Any letters?"
"Three, sir, and a small parcel. I put them on your table. Shall I get
you something, sir?"
"No, thanks. I've just had a huge supper. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, sir. Any orders for the morning?"
"Let me sleep as long as I like, unless I'm wanted."
Theydon entered the sitting room. He opened the letters. Two were of
no moment; the third was a request from the editor of a magazine that
the "copy" of his article on the "Forbes Peace Propaganda" should be
forwarded as speedily as practicable. What a mad world it was, to be
sure! Here was an important periodical waiting impatiently for the
views of the millionaire on the best means of securing peace on earth
and good will to all men, while that same master mind was obsessed
with fear of a few Chinese bandits. Society was looking to Forbes for
a promised panacea against war and its evils; Forbes himself was
wondering whether bolts and locks and armed servants and policemen
would protect him and his from the claws of the Young Manchus!
Theydon heard Bates locking and bolting the outer door of the flat
with a certain thankfulness. He was thinking of the sheer
impossibility of any marauder gaining access to No. 18, when he opened
the small parcel which the valet had spoken of. He speculated idly as
to the nature of its contents, because he could not remember having
ordered any article which would be contained in so tiny a package.
He took out a piece of stout paper, folded twice, and a little white
object fell to the table and rolled over several times, finally coming
to rest with a curious suddenness. It was a small, carved, ivory
skull!
CHAPTER XIII
SOME NEW MOVES IN THE GAME
Theydon gazed dazedly at the skull for the best part of a minute. His
state of mind was that of a man, utterly incredulous, who nevertheless
thinks he sees a ghost. Then he recovered himself and laughed angrily,
harshly, because he had not succeeded better in controlling his
nerves.
He examined the paper. It bore no writing of any kind. It was
precisely similar in color and texture to the two typed slips which
Forbes had received, but the sender had evidently thought that the
skull was symbolical enough of deadly intent without troubling to add
a written threat.
The ivory skull was an exact replica of its predecessors. The set
teeth, the scowling grin of the gaunt jawbones, the dull menace of the
empty eye sockets, were equally convincing, equally disconcerting.
Lighting a cigarette, Theydon scrutinized the address and postmarks.
In a sense, it was ludicrous to find "Francis B. Theydon, Esq., 18
Innesmore Mansions, W. C.," typed in plain script on the wrapper. What
an unholy alliance of modern science and medievalism! The mind almost
refused to focus itself on the tragic aspect of the affair, yet the
hour at which the package was posted, 5:30 p. m. in the West Strand,
showed conclusively that Wong Li Fu, at any rate, had not sent the
death's head by his own hand, but had entrusted it to a confederate.
The notion brought in its train the departure of Miss Beale from her
hotel, "because she had seen a Chinaman there." "Every little helps,"
mused Theydon, "I must let Scotland Yard know."
He went straight to the telephone, and was pleased to hear that Mr.
Winter had reached headquarters. The chief inspector was feeling
grateful, and said so.
"It was very thoughtful on your part to deal so promptly with the
message received by Mr. Forbes," he said. "I meant remaining in
Croydon all night. No one came to the house, of course. Wong Li Fu's
note explained why. Callous and calculating demon, isn't he?"
"Yes. Even more calculating than you are aware. He has included me in
the count now. When I reached home ten minutes since, after
gormandizing with Mr. Handyside, I found the totem of the tribe
awaiting me."
"The what?"
"An ivory skull."
"You don't say!" and there was a genuine thrill in Winter's voice.
"Anything else?"
"There was no written legend. I have no doubt the enemy believes that
such a work of art speaks for itself. It does. I am to be
exterminated, I suppose."
A marked pause ensued. When Winter spoke again his tone was grave.
"This is a very serious business, Mr. Theydon," he said. "The worst
part of it is that it seems to be spreading in an ever-widening
circle. If it goes much further we'll be obliged to run in every
Chinaman in London, and sift out the decent ones from the heap until
we reach the unpleasant residuum. Are you worried about things? If so,
I'll send a man to mount guard tonight."
"Not at all, thanks. Bates and I will take care that there isn't even
a joss stick in the flat before we go to bed. But I say, there's
another matter. Have you met Miss Beale?"
"Yes. She came here this morning. She gave evidence at the inquest, I
am told. What of her?"
"I asked my sister to spend the evening with her, and she was so
alarmed at finding a Chinaman as a fellow-guest in her hotel that she
is spending the night in my sister's house."
"A plague on all Chinamen!" cried Winter wrathfully. "After this I'm
dashed if I don't drink Indian tea. However, we'll look him up. Sleep
soundly. Your earlier sins of omission are forgiven you, because you
have done us several good turns today. I'll tell your local police
station that if any pigtail or squint eye is found within half a mile
of Innesmore Mansions tonight it is to be jugged without the slightest
hesitation. Keep the skull safely. Furneaux is collecting them."
"Have you seen him, then'"
"No. But I've heard from him. He has gone home suffering from opium
poisoning."
"Great Scott!"
"O, that's only pretty Fanny's way. He means that he is sick of the
reek of Chinamen. You know his peculiar views with regard to tobacco.
If he has been prowling around among opium dens in the East End all
the evening, I'm sorry for him. But he'll turn up all right in the
morning, looking like a skinned weasel. By the way, it'll interest you
to hear that we have cleared up one minor issue. You remember that Ann
Rogers, Mrs. Lester's maid, was called away by a telegram saying that
her father was ill?"
"Yes."
"The old fellow, who is a bit of a sponge, admits that he was given
two pounds by 'a foreign gentleman' for sending that telegram and
shamming illness during the night. I wish I could put the hoary old
rascal in jail, but his action probably saved Ann Rogers from sharing
her mistress's fate."
"Mr. Winter, has it struck you that the man who devised this scheme,
beginning with the murder of Mrs. Lester and ending, Heaven alone
knows when or where, is an organizing genius of a very high orders"
"You would be surprised if you knew the real extent and scope of this
affair," said Winter. "Some day soon I'll be more outspoken.
Goodnight. If you go out in the morning leave word with Bates where
you can be found if wanted."
Theydon turned from the telephone and found Bates standing beside him.
That stolid and worthy ex-noncommissioned officer was armed with a
red-hot poker. Henceforth his employer saw pretense was useless.
"Beg pardon, sir," said the valet apologetically. "I couldn't help
overhearin' what you were sayin', an' if there's any blinkin' Chinee
hidden in this place I'll put a mark on him he won't forget in a
hurry."
Theydon could not help laughing, but Bates was in earnest.
"Once I was stationed in Cork, sir," he said solemnly, "an' we had to
stop a riot. It was then I learnt the reel vally of a red-hot poker.
It's as good as a baynit any time. I've kep' this one handy since Mr.
Furneaux ran out. I do believe he saw a Chinaman."
"He did, and, what is more, arrested him. Well, come on, Bates. There
are not many hiding places in one of these flats. I only hope we find
a Celestial. It would be the fitting finale to a busy day."
But their search was in vain, though they succeeded in scaring Mrs.
Bates badly. It was almost inconceivable that two such men, one a
powerfully-built athlete and the other an ex-soldier, should even
imagine that any marauder could be secreted in the flat; but the
European insensibly credits the Oriental with occult powers, and they
took their task quite soberly.
Singularly enough it led to a discovery bearing directly on the
problem of Mrs. Lester's death. Lending out of the kitchen was a
narrow scullery; here a lift, worked by a wheel on the ground level,
delivered coals by the sack and other heavy parcels.
Theydon glanced at the sliding panel which gave access to the lift.
Obviously he seldom, if ever, visited this part of his domain.
"Can that thing be operated only from the ground?" he inquired.
"O, no, sir," said Bates. "I often pull it up when I want to lower the
dust bin."
"Can you do it now?"
Bates looked surprised at first, then thoughtful. Theydon's words had
suggested a new idea. He opened the panel, tugged vigorously at a
rope, and soon the lift itself, a sort of large cupboard, open at the
side, came in view.
"By gum!" he muttered, gazing at its spacious depths, "I never thought
of that."
"You see what I'm driving at, then?"
"Why, of course, sir. A moderate-sized man could stow away inside
there and hoist himself to any floor. It 'ud be perfectly easy an'
safe as nails. A hundredweight of coal is nothing to it."
"I think we see now at least one method whereby the man who killed
Mrs. Lester could have entered the flat without her knowledge?"
"Not a doubt about it, sir. Nearly noiseless, too, an' if you heard it
working you'd imagine it was meant for the flat beneath, because
there's a whistle to warn us when it's comin' here."
They surveyed the lift in silence for a little while. Then Bates
caused it to descend again, and Theydon examined the rather flimsy
device which fastened the panel.
"I'm not what you might describe as a nervous individual," he said, at
last, "but it wouldn't be fair to your wife and yourself, Bates, if I
didn't tell you I have just received an ugly reminder that the gang
which killed Mrs. Lester has a grudge against me now. Wouldn't it be a
reasonable thing if we drove a couple of screws into that door
tonight?"
Bates stroked his chin. The long-dormant spirit of combat kindled in
his eye.
"Better still, sir," he grinned, "let's drive a screw into any one who
comes up in the lift."
"But how?"
"By tying your pistol firmly to the dresser, putting it on a
hair-trigger-- I know how to do that, of course-- an' letting it plug
a bullet into the right place when the panel is half open."
"Are we justified in taking the law into our own hands?"
"Is any one justified in tryin' to get in here an' cut our throats
while we're asleep, sir?"
Theydon weighed the pros and cons of this thesis very carefully. He
dreaded the possibility of taking a human life, even in self-defense.
Yet against the wretches who had strangled Edith Lester, and coolly
prepared to leave Mrs. Forbes to starve in an empty house until their
revengeful scheme was perfected by full knowledge of the identity of
every man in China, who had assisted in the downfall of an effete
monarchy, what code of conduct would apply unless it were that which
holds sway in the jungle?
"Couldn't we contrive matters so that if the pistol were fired it need
not necessarily inflict a fatal wound?" he said.
"Let's see what we can do, sir," and Bates set to work gleefully on
the arrangements. There was not the slightest difficulty in devising
an efficient means of pressing a trigger with a reduced pull by
opening the door. Any schoolboy could adjust a piece of string to act
unfailingly. By measuring distances, and careful sighting of the
pistol when fixed in position, they arrived at a line of fire which
would strike a body crouched in the lift about the region of the right
shoulder.
Then Bates locked the scullery door, put the key in his pocket, and
assured his trembling wife that she might sleep like a top, since no
bloomin' Chinaman could get at her that night. Theydon himself retired
soon afterwards. He was as tired as though he had been trudging
steadily along country roads since daybreak.
When he awoke, it was broad daylight. Around the corners of the drawn
blinds in his bedroom he could see strips of golden sunshine. Glancing
at a clock on the mantlepiece he was amazed to find that the hour was
ten o'clock, so, not only had there not been a raid on the premises,
but Bates had taken the overnight instructions literally, and allowed
him to sleep far beyond the usual hour.
He rose hurriedly, raced to the bathroom and shouted for "breakfast in
fifteen minutes." He was splashing in his tub when the telephone bell
rang, and Bates answered. Within a few seconds the valet was knocking
at the door.
"A Mr. Handyside has rung up, sir," was the announcement. "I think
he's an American. He wants to know if there is anything doin'. He said
you would understand."
"Tell him I'm alive, and will call at his hotel at 11:30."
"Yes, sir."
When Bates brought in the breakfast Theydon was glancing hurriedly
through the morning papers. Some of them contained an allusion to the
Eastbourne incident, but no names were mentioned.
A reference to "developments" in connection with the "Innesmore
Mansions Murder," however, caught his eye. Appended to a brief account
of the inquest were the following paragraphs:
"It may be taken as certain that the police are not altogether at sea
as to the motive of this atrocious crime. Strange as it may seem-- the
victim being a young and attractive lady, living unostentatiously and
taking little, if any, part in the social life of London-- there is
some probability that Mrs. Lester's death was the outcome of political
revenge rather than an incident in an interrupted burglary.
"At first, every indication pointed to the act of some ghoul surprised
by the unfortunate lady in her bedroom, but we have reason to believe
that graver issues to the community-at-large will be revealed when
Scotland Yard's inquiry is completed. It must not be forgotten that
her husband died 'suddenly' some six months ago in Shanghai. Oddly
enough, the police are now keeping a close surveillance on Chinese
quarters in London, not only in the neighborhood of the docks, but in
the fashionable West. It may, or may not, be a mere coincidence that a
Chinaman was arrested yesterday at St. Albans and lodged in Bow
Street.
"There are not wanting other similar 'coincidences' in places so far
apart as a well-known South Coast seaside resort and South Croydon. At
present, the whole matter is nebulous, but striking developments may
take place at any hour, and the murder of Mrs. Lester may yet figure
as one of the most sensational crimes of recent years."
Theydon was reading these discreet but exceedingly well-informed
sentences with much care, when he noticed that Bates had closed the
sitting-room door before beginning to arrange the contents of the tray
on the table. Such an unusual action meant something.
"Well, what is it now?" he inquired, lifting his eyes to the
manservant's impassive face.
"When the milkman come this morning, sir, he told me that a policeman
was found lyin' insensible on the road outside the mansions shortly
after three o'clock," was the answer, conveyed in a low note that
suggested a matter better kept from the cognizance of Mrs. Bates.
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