Books: Number Seventeen
L >>
Louis Tracy >> Number Seventeen
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 | 8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16
Theydon expected that Furneaux would flare into anger at this
well-deserved rebuke; but, much to his surprise, the detective treated
the matter argumentatively.
"Personally, I have looked on you from the outset as an innocent man,"
he said placidly. "But, just to show how circumstantial evidence may
be twisted into plausible error, let me point out that nearly all the
known facts conspire against you. Have you considered how dexterously
a prosecuting counsel would treat your admission that Mrs. Lester was
the one person in England who knew of your connection with the
revolutionary party in China? And how would you set about convincing a
stolid British jury that you were acting in the interests of law and
order in concealing your visit to No. 17 on the night of the murder?
These fine-drawn speculations, however, are a sheer waste of breath.
Suppose we concoct an advertisement for the Times?"
"Do you mean that I am to parley with these ruffians?"
"Of course you are."
"But the Home Secretary agreed with me that no action should be taken
until the Chinese Legation had considered the matter."
"And, pray, what can the Legation do?"
"They have their own sources of information. When all is said and
done, Orientals are best fitted to deal with Orientals."
Furneaux laughed sarcastically.
"If I remember rightly, the way in which the Chinese Embassy dealt
with one of your pet reformers some years ago did not win general
approval. No, Mr. Forbes, we must try and circumvent the wily Chinese
by other methods than torture and imprisonment. Of what avail will it
be if this fellow, Wong Li Fu, is laid by the heels? Isn't it more
than certain that he has plenty of determined helpers? Do you imagine
that he killed Mrs. Lester? Not a bit of it. He will be able to
produce the clearest proof that he was miles away from Innesmore
Mansions on Monday night. Now, let's see how we can get him to show
his hand a little more openly. How would this be? 'Y. M.-- Terms can
be arranged. J. C. F.' The terms are, of course, that the whole gang
be hanged or sent to penal servitude and deported."
"One moment," struck in Theydon. "I have something to say before you
decide on any definite action. I need hardly inflict on you, Mr.
Furneaux, an explanation of my silence hitherto. I don't even
apologize for it. Faced by a similar dilemma tomorrow I should
probably take the same line. But, to adopt your own simile, now that
Mr. Forbes has come out of his shell, and admits his presence here on
Monday night, my self-imposed restrictions cease. In the first place,
then, Miss Beale came here this morning--"
"Excellent! I wondered who the lady was," put in Furneaux.
"And, secondly, the gray car which pursued me on Monday seems to have
been partly identified later. A car resembling it in every detail
deposited some one at the Chinese Legation in Portland Place, at an
hour which corresponds closely with its presence here."
"Ah, that is important! I like that! I wasn't far wrong when I sensed
you as an absolute carrier of clew-germs in this affair," cried
Furneaux.
"The Chinese Embassy!" gasped Forbes. "What car? And why should any
car pursue you? Do you mean that you were followed on leaving my
house?"
It was lamentable to watch the inroad which each successive shock was
making on Forbes's physical resources, but Theydon affected to ignore
the new fright in his eyes, and told him what had happened. Although
he could see that Furneaux was in a fever of impatience to learn the
later news, he thought that Forbes should know the facts in view of
the remarkable statement that he had visited the Chinese Embassy that
morning.
In one respect, the recital was a test of the millionaire's professed
readiness to deal candidly with the police. Theydon was half inclined
to believe that the other was still wishful to conceal that part of
the day's doings. But he was mistaken. When he had finished his own
story, and given the taxi-man's version of the gray car's appearance
in Portland Place, Forbes threw out his hands in a gesture of despair.
"If the Embassy people are playing me false I do not know whom to
trust," he said brokenly; "I have just come from there, and they
assure me that if Wong Li Fu and his gang are in London they are
absolutely ignorant of the fact."
"Pooh!" cried Furneaux, snapping a thumb and forefinger. "Don't worry
about that! Put yourself in the position of the Chinese Ambassador. He
can't even guess who may be the ruler of China from one day to
another. Yesterday it was an old woman, today a dictator, tomorrow the
mob; who can foretell what shape the lava erupted from a volcano will
take? Bet you a new hat, Mr. Forbes, that the minute the embassy heard
of Mrs. Lester's murder they put two and two together and kept a sharp
eye on these mansions and on your house. That gray car is nothing more
nor less than a red herring accidentally drawn across the trail. Some
cute Chinaman said 'Hallo! that murdered woman is the wife of Forbes's
agent in Shanghai. Now, let's see what Forbes is doing, and who visits
him, and perhaps we'll learn something.' Want a bet?"
Forbes could not help but recover some of his shattered nerve in view
of the detective's airy optimism. Still, he was shaken and dubious.
"Don't forget that the Chinese Ambassador has no knowledge whatsoever
of my share in the revolution," he said.
"And don't forget that for ways which are dark and tricks which are
vain the heathen Chinee is peculiar," retorted Furneaux. "How can you
be sure that there is not in the Embassy at this moment a full
statement of your payments into the reformers' funds, as well as the
list of conspirators which our friend Wong Li Fu is in search of?"
"I think that such a thing is almost impossible."
"Is there anything really impossible? We used to believe that once a
man was dead he could not be brought to life again. A Frenchman has
just demonstrated that by a judicious application of galvanism to the
heart and salt water to the veins any average corpse can be revived."
Evidently Furneaux was enjoying himself. He sat there, absorbing new
impressions and irradiating scraps of irrelevant knowledge in a way
that would have been full of significance to Winter had he been
present. Furneaux was never so mercurial, never so ready to jump from
one subject to another, as when his subtle brain was working at high
pressure.
He actually reveled in a crime which lay on the borderland of the
exotic and the grotesque. Like the French philosopher in Poe's "Tales
of Mystery and Imagination," the savant who read his newspaper in a
dingy Paris room, and solved by sheer force of intellect extraordinary
criminal problems which baffled the shrewdest official minds, he felt
in relation to this particular tragedy that he required only to be
brought in touch with certain contingent forces bound up with it--
Forbes, for instance, and, in a minor degree, Theydon-- and in due
course he would be able to go forth and find the master wrongdoer.
Suddenly the millionaire seemed to cast off the cloak of despair which
clogged his energies and impaired his brilliant intellect. He rose to
his feet and involuntarily squared his shoulders.
"Surely we are wasting valuable hours which should be given to
action," he cried. "I am going to the city and shall arrange for a
prolonged absence from my office. Then I'll hurry home, perfect my
defenses, and defy these murderous curs. My wife must come to London.
In a crisis like this I must have my loved ones under my own personal
supervision. I can still shoot straight and quick, and woe betide any
man, white or yellow, who enters my house unbidden. As for this
infernal symbol-- !"
He raised a clenched fist, and would have pounded into fragments the
thin fabric of the ivory skull still lying where he had placed it on
the table had not Furneaux snatched it into safety.
"No, no!" protested the detective. "I want that for purposes of
comparison. Kindly give me that typed note, too, Mr. Forbes. It may
bear finger-marks. You never can tell. The cardboard box in which it
was posted also. Thank you. Now, a few more questions before you go.
How much money did you provide for the revolutionaries?"
"Two millions sterling."
"As a gift or a loan?"
"If they failed, I lost every farthing, of course. If they succeeded,
I was to recoup myself by financing the new government."
"But I gather that they have neither failed nor succeeded. China has a
constitution, but the Presidential election was conducted on lines
suspiciously akin to those recently adopted in Mexico."
"Nevertheless negotiations are now on foot for a big loan."
"If you died, what would become of the two millions?"
"They would be lost irretrievably."
Furneaux sat back in his chair.
"That gives one furiously to think," he said. "The gray car comes back
into the picture."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. But I'll tell you what-- the man who first spoke of a
Chinese puzzle as a metaphor for something downright bewildering knew
what he was talking about."
Forbes put a hand to his forehead in an unconscious gesture of
hopelessness.
"My brain is reeling," he muttered. "To think that in the London of
today we should live in abject terror of a band of Mongolian ruffians!
Why do you remain here, man? You vaunt the prowess of your
department-- why are you not scouring every haunt of Chinamen in the
East End? Spread your net widely enough, and you will surely get hold
of some minor scoundrel who will talk for fear or money. Bribe him to
the point where he cannot refuse to speak. Wong Li Fu is the only man
I fear. Put him where he can accomplish no mischief, and the rest of
his crew will be powerless!"
"When you come to count up the achievements of my friend Winter and
myself-- in the face of stupid but none the less disheartening
obstacles-- we have not done so badly in two days," said Furneaux
complacently.
"Can I drive you anywhere? My car is waiting."
"No, thanks. The truth is, Mr. Forbes, I look on you as a disturbing
influence. A man who can talk as calmly as you about dropping two
millions on a crazy project to introduce Western methods into China is
not fitted for the phlegmatic and judicial atmosphere of Scotland
Yard. If I want any money I'll come to you. If not, and all goes well
at No. 11 Fortescue Square, the next time I'll trouble you will be
when you are asked to identify Wong Li Fu, dead or alive."
Forbes seemed hardly to be aware of Furneaux's words. He went out.
Theydon accompanied him, and, as they descended the stairs together,
the older man said brokenly:
"It is my wife and daughter for whom I fear. I can hardly control my
senses when I think of these yellow fiends contemplating vengeance on
me through them. Theydon-- do you believe in that detective? He is
either a vain fool or a genius. By the way, I forgot to ask him how he
found out that I had received the warning delivered by this morning's
post."
"I'll try and worm an explanation out of him. If he tells me I'll
telephone you later. He is an extraordinary creature, but abnormally
clever at his work, I am sure. For my own part, I feel disposed to
trust him implicitly. I wish you had met his colleague, Chief
Inspector Winter. He is the sort of man whose mere presence inspires
confidence."
Forbes halted on the step of the automobile and glanced at his watch.
"I shall be home in an hour," he said. "After that I shall not stir
out all day. Telephone me if you have any news. Why not dine with us
tonight?"
Theydon's eyes sparkled. He was longing to meet Evelyn Forbes once
more, but a wretched doubt diminished the glow of gratification which
the prospect brought. Should he, or should he not, tell the girl's
father of the rather indiscreet admissions she had made during their
brief talk that morning?
That minor worry, however, was banished suddenly and forever.
Furneaux, taking the three steps which led from entrance hall to
pavement with a flying leap, cannoned right into Forbes, whom he
grasped with both hands, quite as much by way of emphasis as to check
the impetus of his diminutive body.
"In with you!" he piped. "Tell your chauffeur to obey my orders, no
matter what they are!"
Action, determination, were as the breath of the millionaire's
nostrils. He aroused himself instantly.
"You hear, Downs!" he said to the chauffeur.
Downs was one of those strange beings who have been evolved by the age
of petrol, an automaton compounded, seemingly, of steel springs and
leather. He had long ago lost the art of speech, having cultivated
delicacy of hearing and quickness of sight at the expense of all other
human faculties. The old-time coachman possessed a certain fluent
jargon, which enabled him to chide or encourage his horses and
exchange suitable comments with the drivers of brewers' drays and
market carts, but the modern chauffeur is all an ear for the rhythm of
machinery, all an eye for the nice calculation of the hazards of the
road fifty yards ahead.
At any rate, Downs mumbled something which resembled "Yes, sir,"
Forbes sprang in and slammed the door, Furneaux raced round the front
of the car and perched himself beside Downs, and the heavy automobile
was almost into its normal stride before it had traveled twice its own
length.
Theydon was left gaping on the pavement. He saw that the car turned
west, and caught a glimpse of Furneaux's outstretched hand with
forefinger pointing like the barrel of a pistol.
"Fool!" he cried, in bitter self-apostrophe. "Why didn't I jump in
after Forbes? Now I am out of the hunt! I wonder what the deuce
Furneaux saw or heard?"
That concluding thought sent him back to the flat, two steps at a
time.
"Bates!" he shouted. "Has Mr. Furneaux used the telephone, or did any
one ring up?"
"No, sir," said Bates, coming hurriedly at that urgent call. "Fust
thing I knew was he was tearin' out, an' runnin' downstairs like mad."
"O, double-distilled idiot that I am!" growled Theydon again. "Why
didn't I go with them!"
As though the gods heard his plaint and meant to crush him with their
answer, the telephone bell sounded at his elbow. Mechanically, he
lifted the receiver off its hook, and immediately became aware of
Tomlinson's voice, with some element of flurry and distress in its
unctuous accents.
"That you, Mr. Theydon?" said the butler.
"Yes."
"Have you had any news of Mr. Forbes, sir?"
"Yes. He has just left me."
"Ah, if only I had known, and had given you a call before ringing up
the city!"
"What is it? Can I do anything?"
"It's Miss Evelyn, sir."
"Yes, what of her?"
"She's gone, sir."
Theydon's heart apparently stopped for a second, and then raced madly
into tumultuous action again.
"Gone! Good Lord, man, what do you mean?" he almost groaned.
"A telegram came from Mrs. Forbes, at Eastbourne, saying she was ill
and wanted Miss Evelyn. I tried all I knew to persuade Miss Evelyn to
wait until she had spoken to her father, but she wouldn't listen-- she
just threw on a hat and a wrap, and took a taxi to Victoria."
Some membrane or film of tissue which might have served hitherto to
shut off from Frank Theydon's cheery temperament any real knowledge of
the pitfalls which may beset the path of the unwary seemed in that
instant to shrivel as though it had been devoured by flame.
He knew, how or why he could never tell, that the girl had been drawn
into the plot which had already claimed so many victims and sought so
many more. All doubt vanished. He spoke and acted with the swift
certainty of a man tackling an emergency for which he had prepared
during a long period of training and expectation.
"Mr. Forbes may arrive at any moment, Tomlinson," he said. "Tell his
office people to let you know if he goes first to the city. When you
hear from or see him, say that I have either accompanied or followed
Miss Evelyn to Eastbourne. If I do not catch the same train I shall
take prompt measures in other respects. Got that?"
"Yes, sir."
It was easy to distinguish the relief in Tomlinson's utterance, relief
mingled, doubtless, with astonishment that a comparative stranger
should display such an authoritative and prompt interest in the family
affairs.
"That is all. Write down my message, lest you omit any part of it."
Theydon rang off.
"Come!" he said to Bates, who had not retired to his den, but was
listening, discreet yet rabbit-eared, to these queer proceedings.
Followed by the manservant, he darted into the sitting room and did
several things at once.
He unlocked a drawer and took from it a considerable sum of money
which he kept there for emergency journeys, also pocketing an
automatic pistol. Pouncing on an A B C time table, be looked up the
trains for East-bourne. A fast train left Victoria at 1:25 p. m. The
hour was now 1:05.
Meanwhile he was talking.
"Bates," he said, "I promised Miss Beale, the lady who came here this
morning, that my sister, Mrs. Paxton, would visit her this evening,
say about six. Miss Beale is staying at Smith's Hotel, Jermyn Street.
Go to Mrs. Paxton, and see her, waiting at her house if she happens to
be out. Tell everything you know about Mrs. Lester's death, and ask
her to take care of Miss Beale this evening. She will understand. I'll
wire her at Smith's Hotel before the dinner hour, if possible. If
anybody calls here, I leave it to your discretion and your wife's
whether or not they should be informed of my movements. Mr. Forbes or
the police, of course, must be told everything. Miss Forbes is
probably in the 1:25 p. m. train for Eastbourne, and I am going with
her. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll wire or 'phone you later."
Grabbing a straw hat and a bundle of telegraph forms, Theydon
vanished, not even waiting to slam the outer door. Bates, who had seen
service, knew that men in time of stress and danger acted just like
the detective and his own employer.
"By Jingo!" he muttered, beginning to assemble the empty coffee-cups
on a tray. "Things is wakin' up here, an' no mistake!"
Theydon was fortunate in finding a taxicab depositing a fare at a
neighboring block. Just before he reached the vehicle a gentleman
hurried out of the building and forestalled him. Theydon dashed up,
and caught the other man by the arm.
"My need is urgent," he said. "Let, me have this cab."
The stranger smiled good-humoredly. He was an American and had not the
least objection to being hustled by a Britisher; indeed he rather
appreciated this exhibition of haste as a novel experience.
"I'm on a hair-trigger myself," he said, pleasantly. "I want to make
Victoria pretty quick. Can I give you a lift?"
"In with you!" cried Theydon. "Now, cabby, half a sovereign if you get
us to Victoria, Brighton line, in 15 minutes. I'll pay all fines."
Then they were off, and the Trans-Atlantic cousins were banged against
one another as the cab whirled round in a sharp semicircle.
"Say!" cried the American, "this reminds one of home. I've been here a
week, an' had a kind of notion that London air was half fog, half
dope. But you're awake all right. Bet you a five spot you're after a
girl!"
"I pay," said Theydon, his eyes glistening. "And such a girl! Her
portrait on the paper wrap of a 50-cent novel would sell it in
millions!"
"Gee whiz! Is it like that? Go right ahead, Augustus! Never mind me.
Take this old bus all the way to Paris. I'll find the fares and hold
your hat. But kindly shift that gun into your opposite pocket. You've
dug it into my thigh quite often enough. If you want to get first drop
on the other fellow, shove it up your sleeve!"
CHAPTER IX
SHARP WORK
The American's easy-going badinage provided the best sort of tonic.
Theydon laughed as be transferred the pistol from one pocket to the
other.
"My motto is 'Defense, not Defiance,'" he said. "I hope sincerely that
I shall not be called on to shoot, or even threaten any one. Using
firearms, although for self-protection, is a very serious matter in
this country. May I ask your name? Mine's Theydon. I live in those
mansions we have just quitted."
"And I'm George T. Handyside, 21,097 Park Avenue, Chicago," was the
answer.
"Is that your telephone number?"
"No, sir. It's my home address."
"Well, Mr. Handyside, if ever I come to Chicago, I'll travel along
Park Avenue and give you a call. How many days' journey are you from
the center of the city?"
"Say, Mr. Theydon, I'm real glad to make your acquaintance. I haven't
been joshed in that way since I left the steamer. This little island
of yours is all right as a beauty spot, but I do wish your people
wouldn't carry such a grouch agin' life generally. Great Scott! It'll
do 'em a heap of good to try a real chesty laugh occasionally."
"Tell me where I can drop across you in London later in the week, and
I'll see if we can't find a smile somewhere."
The American scribbled the name of a Strand hotel on a card, which
Theydon disposed in his pocketbook, at the same time producing one of
his own cards.
"You'll hear from me," he said. "Now, Mr. Handyside, pardon me for the
next few minutes. I have to write telegrams."
The first was to Forbes, addressed in duplicate to Old Broad Street
and Fortescue Square. It ran:
"If this message is not qualified by another within a few minutes I am
in the 1:25 train for Eastbourne."
Then to Winter:
"Young lady summoned to Eastbourne by telegram stating that her mother
is ill. Suspect the message as bogus and emanating from Y. M. See
Furneaux. He will explain. Am hoping to travel by same train. If
disappointed will wire again immediately.-- Theydon."
He read each slip carefully, to make sure that the phraseology was
clear. The speed at which the cab was traveling rendered his
handwriting somewhat illegible, but he thought he saw a means of
circumventing that difficulty.
"Which place are you going?" he inquired of his unexpected companion.
"To a place called Sutton."
"What time does your train leave?"
"Guess it's about 1:30."
"You have five more minutes at your disposal than I have. Will you
hand in these three messages at the telegraph office? I'll read them
to you, in case the counter clerk is doubtful about any of my words."
"Sure thing, Mr. Theydon. You've interested me. I don't care a row of
beans if I drop out Sutton altogether."
"I'm greatly obliged, but that is not necessary. You'll have loads of
time. We're in the Park already, and our driver has a clear run to
Victoria. Now, listen!"
Mr. Handyside did listen, and pricked his ears at the mention of
Scotland Yard.
"Gosh!" he exclaimed, "this is better'n a life-line movie! For the
love of Millie, let me in by the early door! Now, how's this for a
proposition? You send those telegrams, and I'll fix the cab an' buy
the transportation to Eastbourne for the pair of us. I'm not heeled,
but I may be useful, an' I'll jab any fellow in the solar plexus at
call."
Theydon gazed at this self-avowed knight-errant in surprise. Handyside
was a man of forty, whose dark hair was flecked with gray. He was
quietly dressed, a wide-brimmed high-crowned hat of finely-plaited
white straw providing the solo note of markedly American origin in his
attire. The expression of his well-moulded features was shrewd but
pleasing, and the poise of a spare but sinewy frame gave evidence of
active habit and some considerable degree of physical strength.
"Pon my honor," said the Englishman. "I'm half inclined to take you at
your word, except in the matter of expenses, which, of course, I must
bear. You see, if my services are called for, and prove effective, I
may need help."
"Go right ahead," said the other calmly. "Tell me as much or as little
as you like. Where's this place, Eastbourne? On the south coast, I
guess."
"Yes."
"I thought it would be. A man on the steamer asked me to come and see
him at Westgate, which is about as far east as you can go in England
without wetting your feet. I'm getting the hang of things here by
degrees. Southport, of course, is away up north, and Northamptonshire
in the midlands."
Theydon grinned, but the taxi was passing Buckingham Palace, and the
hour was 1:17 p. m.
"I cannot give you any sort of an explanation now, Mr. Handyside," he
said. "Later in the week, perhaps, I may have a big story for your
private ear. All I can say at the moment is this-- I have reason to
believe that a young lady, a daughter of Mr. James Creighton Forbes, a
well-known man in the city of London, is being decoyed to Eastbourne
in the belief that her mother is ill. Now, I may be wholly mistaken.
Her mother may be ill. If that is so, I am making this trip under a
delusion. At any rate, my notion is to try and fall in with Miss
Forbes accidentally, as it were, and watch over her until I am quite
sure that she is with her mother. You follow me?"
"Seems to me," said the American imperturbably, "it's the most natural
thing in the world that Mr. Theydon should want to show his friend,
Mr. Handyside of Chicago, England's most bracing and attractive
seaside resort, if that's the right way to describe Eastbourne."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 | 8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16