Part 17

“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.

26

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.

27

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.