CHAPTER IX

SPECIMENS OF JOURNALESE

Storm trod on the self-starter. The powerful engine woke to life with no more than a whispering purr. Like a long shadow the Hirondel slid out of the cart track and down the deserted road between ghostly files of street lamps.

He switched on his lights as he turned into the Finchley Road.

It had been a merry evening, and not without those thrilling moments after which his heart yearned; and it had left him with things to ponder. He wanted to know the reason for Snooper Brome's appearance in the home of Oscar Raegenssen, and he wanted to know what the hurriedly lowered blind in an upstairs room had hidden from him, but it was typical of the man that he accepted Susan's arrival as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Lucky you found me," he remarked. "Now I can take you along to the Elysion, and we can consume bacon and eggs."

He made no effort to discover the reason for her presence, but she enlightened him of her own accord.

"It's all Uncle Joe's fault," she explained. "I'd been to dinner with him, and--you've had some experience of him--you know what a bloodthirsty little man he is, and this Triangle business is meat and strong drink to him. He was lecturing me about it for hours after I ought to have gone home, and he kept dragging Raegenssen into the discussion and then forgetting what he was going to say about him. Then he told me Raegenssen lived near by, and promptly added that women shouldn't get mixed up with crime. So, of course, I had to butt in. Did you kill Snooper?"

She asked the question so dispassionately that Storm laughed.

"No," he said mildly. "Not to-night. It wasn't--er--expedient. One of these days I shall probably have to, but that'll keep. How much did you see?"

"You saw me."

"And," said Storm in pained accents, "you saw the police charging up the garden, and you didn't rally round to assist the getaway? Susan, you're going off!"

She smiled, and laid a cool hand on his.

"Old chap," she said, "that would have been unpardonable. You knew what you were doing, and you don't need lessons in looking after yourself. If I'd thought you wanted help, I'd have come----"

"Like old times," said Storm, and raised her hand to his lips.

He felt curiously exhilarated that night. It may have been due to the fresh food for thought which he had gathered from his adventurous and wholly illegal visit, or to the sudden bracing rush of swift action he had enjoyed to the full after overmuch peace and quiet. Or, on the other hand, it may have been due to the presence of the girl at his side.... Storm felt happily incompetent to judge. He knew, at least, that the old, gay recklessness had returned to him in all its reawakened daredevilry. The cool night air was grateful on his face: he drew deep breaths of it contentedly, and it went to his head like wine. He moved his arms ecstatically, for the pure sensuous joy of feeling the rippling suppleness of them. He laughed softly, irresponsible and proud, throwing back his head--a splendid animal glorying in its magnificent manhood.

"Oh, Susan, this is the life!" he said. "No dull safety for me! I only hope it doesn't end too soon."

"You get all the fun," she complained. "All I can do is to mooch around waiting to be shot up, and fill in the intervals lunching with Uncle Joe."

"Damn Uncle Joe!" exploded Storm, but this time without jealousy. "I'm sick of hearing about Uncle Joe! Forget him, kid, and listen to me. Susan, when this jaunt's over, and the Alpha Triangle's done the six-foot drop, you're coming away with me--I don't care where, so long as it's some place where you can still go gunning for people who annoy you. London's all right when there's a Triangle livening things up, but one day the Triangle'll toe the T in a whitewashed shed, and I hate stagnation! We'll start a young war somewhere, if you like. Any old thing suits me, so long as it's disreputable and dangerous.... Is that a bet?"

"I don't know," she said demurely. "You're so very unconventional...." And thereafter he only had one hand for the steering-wheel.

Storm breakfasted next morning with his usual litter of newspapers scattered on the floor all around him, but he was chiefly amused by the alarm of the _Daily Record_. To his mind, the crime reports in which the _Record_ specialised were far more interesting than fiction, for that paper had a reputation for chewing more meat from tropical bones than any of its contemporaries.

WHERE ARE THE POLICE? LONDON AT MERCY OF GANG OF MURDERERS. GOVERNMENT MUST NOT SURRENDER. FURTHER OUTRAGES ANTICIPATED. LATEST NEWS OF GIGANTIC CONSPIRACY.

--and a lot more. The police, one gathered, were either incapable or afraid; the Government were meditating incontinent surrender; England was to be plunged into anarchy; neither life nor property would be safe.... Only the policy of the _Daily Record_ was stemming the tide of disaster.

"These people aren't helpful," murmured Storm. "Stampeding sheep! Bring me some more toast."

"Yessir," said Cork.

Cork, Storm's valet, was a man with aggrieved eyebrows and a disapproving mouth. He had the expression of one who has looked on the wine when it was sour, and who has never quite succeeded in getting rid of the taste. But, at least, he went about his work with the efficiency of a superman whose head would be bloody but unbowed despite plague, pestilence, famine, riot, civil commotion, the fall of the Conservative Party, the dissolution of the British Empire, Act of God, or the agitation of the _Daily Record_.

"There is a man downstairs who wishes to speak to you, sir," he said, returning with reinforcements of coffee.

Sorrow was in every line of his pessimistic face, and he laid a faint emphasis on the word "man." Storm had never quite induced his servant to accept Inspector Teal as a human being.

"What's the matter with him, Cork?" asked Storm. "Leper?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," replied Cork gloomily. "It's the policeman who calls sometimes."

"Show him up," said Storm and returned to his newspapers.

Mr. Teal glutinated through the door.

"Good morning, sir."

"Morn'n," said Storm without looking up. "Sit down, Teal. English or Colonial breakfast?"

Inspector Teal frowned suspiciously.

"What's a Colonial breakfast?" he inquired.

"Oh, a horse's neck, a mutton chop, and a small dog."

"What's the small dog for?" queried Mr. Teal innocently. "And why a horse's neck?"

"The dog eats the mutton chop, and a horse's neck's a brandy and ginger ale----"

"Coffee--thank you, sir," said the shocked Mr. Teal. "Fat men didn't ought----"

Over a steaming cup he surveyed the cheery, comfortable room. There were well-filled bookcases, a grand piano, and an open secretaire strewn with scraps of paper and writing materials. On the walls were fencing foils, boxing gloves, an oar, and over the mantelpiece hung a couple of sporting rifles.

"Nice little place you've got here," he remarked. "I've always liked it."

"Not so bad! Listen, Teal. The papers say, _the police are believed to have a clue_. Why don't we contradict such wicked slanders?"

"It's better than Finchley," pursued Mr. Teal without emotion.

"And this: _A sensational arrest is expected at every moment_. Je-rusalem. My dear soul, how can even a great man like yourself make a sensational arrest at every moment? There aren't enough sensational people in London to maintain the supply. Besides, blokes'd start getting peeved."

"Raegenssen was peeved," said Mr. Teal sleepily.

Storm slewed his chair round so that he faced the detective, and searched for a cigarette. His gun-metal grey eyes were alight with mischief.

"Teal!" he protested. "Why must you be inconsequent?"

"Why must you burgle Raegenssen?" asked Mr. Teal.

That quick, flickering smile played about Storm's lips.

"How do you know?" he asked calmly.

"Your tire tracks were all over that bit of building ground. And I called at your garage on my way here and found dry mud caked all over your wheels. You don't collect that sort of mud in the streets." Mr. Teal blinked twice and yawned. He became almost awake, "Mr. Arden, why can't you and me work together?"

"That accusative makes me go all goosey!" complained Storm.

"You and I," Mr. Teal corrected himself. "Why not? We'd get on much better."

Storm exhaled a thin feather of smoke from the corner of his mouth.

"You might," he said. "But then, you're only a detective."

Inspector Teal accepted the proffered cigar. His mouth widened half an inch momentarily.

"I shouldn't compromise you," he pleaded.

Storm walked over to the window.

"How did you come to visit Raegenssen at all?" he asked.

"I was called early this morning," said Teal. "I haven't been to bed yet. So I heard all about the masked man and the fancy shooting, and then I remembered you'd promised to commit a few felonies. Besides, you can recognise a Hirondel's tracks--they've got a very wide wheel-base, and you can only fit Veloris tires."

"Bit off your beat, wasn't it?"

"No." The detective rummaged in his pocket and produced something that was familiar to Storm without a closer inspection. "Anything to do with Triangles is on my beat."

Storm took the trinket and stared at it. Then he paced quickly up and down the room, his eyes half-closed and his cigarette tightened up in his lips. He raised his shoulders and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and then he stopped in his stride abruptly and turned.

"Did you get that from Raegenssen?"

Teal nodded.

"The burglar came back, and the second time he left that. He and Raegenssen had a fight, but the Swede stopped one in the tummy."

"Do you think I'm the Triangle?" asked Storm directly.

Inspector Teal jerked the ash from his cigar.

"No, I don't. But you know too much about it, and I wish you'd come across. There's an inquiry about that Moraine's stunt scheduled for this afternoon, and the Commissioner 'll be curious."

"I want the whole yarn," Storm said after a short pause. "As heard from Raegenssen."

"I can do better," said Teal. "A reporter who lives out that way was there even before I was. It was just ten when I came along Piccadilly, so I brought you in the midday edition of the _Evening Record_."

Storm took the sheet and grinned.

"You're an old cynic, Teal!" he reproved.

He lounged over to the table and rested on the edge of it while he read with interest the brief account of the happenings in North London of the small hours of that morning.

"An air of mystery surrounds the two attempts to burgle the house of Mr. Oscar Raegenssen, the well-known Swedish merchant, which took place last night.

"How does a house take place, Teal?

"Mr. Raegenssen had been to a theatre, and had thence proceeded to a night club--

"How shocking," murmured Storm.

"--from which he returned to his house in Marchmont Avenue at about 1 a.m. He went upstairs immediately and was undressing when he heard a suspicious sound in his study. A moment later a shot rang out. Stopping only to pull on a dressing-gown, Mr. Raegenssen hastened downstairs and found the window wide open and his safe broken open. Finding that the telephone wires had been cut, Mr. Raegenssen returned to his bedroom in order to don some clothes before summoning the police."

"Decency before duty," Storm drawled.

"Two constables who had heard the shot, however, had already arrived, and had entered the building by way of the window which the burglar had left open in his flight. Mr. Raegenssen, meanwhile, had heard a noise in the room adjoining his bedroom which led him to suspect that the burglar was perhaps still in the house. This, indeed, proved to be the case, and the two officers, assisted by Mr. Raegenssen, attempted to apprehend the man. The burglar, however, who was masked and evidently a dangerous character, drew a pistol and fired several times at his would-be captors without hitting them, after which he made a desperate and successful bid for safety.

"About two and a half hours later, when Mr. Raegenssen who had been too disturbed by the thrilling incident to return immediately to his bed, was working in his library, he heard a suspicious sound in his study and attempted to investigate it. He was promptly attacked with great ferocity by the desperado, who again contrived to make his escape, but who this time left behind him a silver triangle of a type which is by now familiar to readers of the _Evening Record_. During the time it took Mr. Raegenssen to recover sufficiently to rise, the library was in its turn the subject of the burglar's attentions.

"The extraordinary feature of the affair, however--

"That's three 'howevers.'

"--is the fact that in neither case--

"That's two cases.

"--was any attempt--

"That's four attempts, Teal. Beaver! ... Fifteen love.

"--made to abstract anything of value. The only things interfered with were the safe and a number of drawers and filing cabinets in which Mr. Raegenssen kept private papers concerning his business.

"Inspector Teal, who is working on the Triangle Mystery in conjunction with Captain Arden, has been called in, and he is said to have made an important discovery, which is at present being kept a strict secret."

"How much did you lend this reporter, Teal?" asked Storm accusingly.

"It will be remembered that Mr. Raegenssen had already been the recipient of one of the warnings of the Alpha Triangle.

"Good old Snooper!" said Storm cryptically. "I knew he'd get away with it somehow!" He pitched the paper into a corner and swung himself off the table. "And an inquiry. Well, I'll deal with the inquiry! But I wish I knew who Oscar's second friend was."

"It wasn't you?" Inspector Teal was incredulous.

"It was not. If you're really interested, I can prove an alibi; I was inhaling bacon and eggs at the Elysion, or beer _chez_ Mannering--where Miss Hawthorne's staying--at the time."

Teal wrinkled his brow.

"Didn't I hear you mention Snooper?" he prompted, and Storm nodded.

"Snooper was at Raegenssen's last night. And I let him go--you can tell that to your Board of Inquiry! And now, if you don't mind, we'll leave the subject until this afternoon."

The Board assembled in the Chief Commissioner's room at two o'clock, and Storm took his place at one end of the table without a trace of embarrassment. Teal, who sat on his right, was less self-confident, for Inspector Teal was a conventional detective with a proper awe for the majesty of Higher Command. Bill Kennedy, the Assistant Commissioner, shook hands with Storm as he passed, although his usual cheeriness was singularly half-hearted. The Chief, Sir Brodie Smethurst, was the last to arrive, and with him came a man whom no one present with the exception of Storm had expected to see.

"What's the Home Secretary doing in this picnic?" demanded Teal in a hoarse whisper, and Storm shrugged.

"I asked him to come," he stated shortly.

The preliminary business was soon over, for in theory the Board had assembled to make an inquiry into Storm's failure to prevent the robbery at Moraine's; and then Storm rose to give an account of his progress with the main problem.

"I have no excuses to make for the Moraine's affair," he said. "On that score you may take what action you like. The second point is the double burglary at Raegenssen's early this morning. I was the first burglar, but I don't know who the second was--although I could name the man, with certainty, in two guesses. And I'll make you a prophecy: within the next forty-eight hours the man known as Raegenssen will either have disappeared or been killed! ... I have no excuses for the burglary either. It merely happened to be necessary. By swearing information I might conceivably have got a search warrant, but I decided that that course would be both risky and futile, because the issue of the warrant would alarm the man I was anxious to trap; futile, because it might have been necessary to repeat the search without the man being aware that an official search had been made. I was both lucky and unlucky. I found what I expected, to a certain extent, but the arrival of the police gave me no time to find out all that I wanted to. To this moment Raegenssen does not know that his visitor was not a common thief, and therefore he will be killed. If I had revealed my identity to the police, he would have recognised me, and _I_ should have been killed. It was, you see, a matter of my life or--his."

They listened without comprehending.

"You suspect Raegenssen of having some connection with the Alpha Triangle?" suggested Smethurst.

"I _know_," said Storm carefully, "that the evidence I have secured from Raegenssen, together with what I have obtained from another man, will kill the Alpha Triangle. I could arrest the Apex to-day--but I won't!"

He heard the suppressed gasp that went up, and smiled faintly at Inspector Teal's muffled "Good God!"

"No one but myself," he went on simply, "has anything like the evidence necessary to secure a conviction--I even doubt very much if I could get one myself. You can be satisfied that it is a moral certainty, even if it would fail to convince a Grand Jury. But, at the instance of the late Lord Hannassay, and with the consent of Sir John Marker, I was given carte blanche in this case, and you must continue that support."

"_Must_ is a strong word, Captain Arden," said the Home Secretary mildly.

"I am a strong man," said Storm.

He spoke quietly, not as a boaster, but as one who states a fact, and his cool assurance staggered the Board. Whereas before they had been scowling or incredulous, according to temperament, they were united in indignation.

"P-please make yourself p-p-plain," stammered Smethurst harshly.

"It's rather obvious already," said Storm calmly. "The Alpha Triangle is my father. You needn't think I'm giving away my secret, because I'm not! If you took the trouble to trace my father, you'd come up against a dead end. You'd laugh at the idea--just as you'd laugh if I told you openly now. But, anyway, I don't want you to try and trace him. I don't want this case messed up with a lot of flat-footed half-wits trying to take my place! You're at my mercy. Do what you like. Sack me. Keep me on under supervision. It won't help you, because in a few hours I shall be the only man who can hope to catch the Alpha Triangle. In time, I mean. Of course, I suppose there are plenty of other men who could mug along till they got him--but by that time the Triangle will have cost the country hundreds of thousands of pounds and many lives. You can take your choice...."

He had them stymied. Their world was reeling about their ears. Never within living memory had a man dared to address a Board of Inquiry in such an arrogant manner. Storm set at naught their authority, he was coldly indifferent to the fact that he laid himself open to prosecution, he had given them an ultimatum with all the casualness of a man to whom acceptance or rejection means nothing to speak of--and the chilled insolence of it dazed them. And Storm, while they strove to collect their wits, was leisurely lighting a cigarette and smiling as affably as if he had merely made some commonplace remark about the weather, instead of handing out to Their Augustnesses the starkest slice of sheer frozen case-hardened nerve in their experience....

The atmosphere was electric. It seemed to have temporarily hypnotised all but two of them--Bill Kennedy--who was leaning back in his chair with a grin of pure delight on his ugly face, and Sir John Marker, who was tapping his teeth reflectively with a pencil and apparently considering Storm's proposition as seriously as he would have considered a question in the House.

"It is an extraordinary situation, Captain Arden," he admitted. "I can see your point--up to a point. But if, as you say, your father is involved, hadn't you better pass the case over to someone else?"

"No," said Storm steadily.

"Can't you be a little more explicit, then?"

"I can tell you this: I first suspected my man on a day when I had a slight accident." Storm spoke slowly and evenly, ignoring the stunned faces of the Board and addressing his remarks to the Home Secretary. He was standing erect, with the tips of his fingers resting on the table in front of him, completely at ease. "I was driving down Cockspur Street, and my car skidded and knocked Raegenssen down. There were present Mr. Blaythwayt, manager of the Lombard Street City and Continental; Mattock, a convict on licence employed by Raegenssen; and Miss Hawthorne, Lord Hannassay's secretary. Of those people, two were in a position to note the same thing as I did--the first piece of evidence against my father." He smiled again at their perplexity. "Acting on this, I burgled Raegenssen last night, and learnt something of the next coup planned by the Triangle. I also acquired a fresh suspicion, which I hope to verify soon. But that's all speculation. The solid fact," he said, watching them with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, "is that one is always interested in a saw-mill which has recently received a consignment of machinery and materials that have nothing whatever to do with the sawing of wood!"

"Do we have to play at Sexton Blake when there aren't any reporters with us?" drawled Bill Kennedy.

Storm grinned.

"I must have notice of that question," he murmured, and sat down.

Then the bottled-up feelings of the Police Chiefs had their vent, and a hum of argument broke out like the snarl of numerous irritated bees. Marker remained aloof, taking no part in the discussion, but listening shrewdly to what his neighbours had to say. Bill Kennedy waved a hand to Storm and lighted a cigar, seemingly bored with the whole business.

Inspector Teal was shaking his head.

"Never," he muttered breathlessly, "never, never did I hope to see this day.... Kent Road's nothin'--he's knocked 'em on the old Embankment and he's got away with it...." His vast form vibrated with Titanic ecstasy.... "'Flat-footed half-wits ... you can take your choice!' ... Oh, Boy!... _Oh_, BOY!..."

"Teal!" whispered Storm reprovingly. "This mirth is nearly indecent!"

He himself was sublimely unconcerned, for he knew exactly where he had the Great Ones of Scotland Yard. He had them right where he wanted them, gently but firmly held down under his brogues, and he wasn't of the type to indulge in gloating on that account. It had simply been, in his opinion, necessary for him to stand on their necks, and he had done it. That was all. It never occurred to him to crow about it, any more than he gave a snide halfpenny for the consequences.

He finished his cigarette and extinguished it, and selected a second. The drone of dispute died away.

"Will you answer some questions?" asked Sir John Marker.

"Within limits--yes," Storm gave back without hesitation.

"Are you convinced that you know the Triangle?"

"Yes,"

"You based your conclusion entirely on two scraps of evidence?"

"Yes."

"Solely?"

"No. Only a born fool forms a theory on the basis of two scraps of evidence without applying the known facts to that theory and finding out how it wears."

"And you think your theory stands the test?"

"Beautifully."

"What chance would you give your theory in a court of law?"

"About as much chance as a very small icicle in a burning fiery furnace," said Storm carefully--"depending, of course, on the precise grade of imbeciles you chose your jury from."

The Home Secretary conferred in an undertone with Smethurst.

"Then you think," he said, his lips twitching at the corners, "that if you are allowed to go on in your own way. without question, you will be able to raise your theory to the standard of obviousness demanded by a jury of average imbeciles?"

"It's possible."

"And what about the crimes which may be committed by the Triangle while you are attempting to do this?"

"They will be fewer than if you took the case out of my hands."

"Then what are your immediate plans?"

"I'm going to confirm my theory to my own satisfaction, and--by way of an impartial witness--to the satisfaction of Inspector Teal; and then I shall find the Triangle, and----"

"And?"

"He will die," said Storm simply. "But it will not be on the gallows."

His even, unemotional tone held them all rapt. In spite of themselves, his personality had gripped them. His slim straight figure stood out above them; his level confident voice commanded their unwilling attention; he dominated the scene as surely as if he had sat in the Chief Commissioner's chair with all the authority of Parliament behind him.

"That," he said, "is the only reason why I do not intend to conduct this case in the normal way." He looked around him searchingly, and then his eyes returned to the Home Secretary. "I will now make my demands." They gasped again at that--his unassuming presumption was a paradox they needed time to digest. "You will permit me to go on with the case as I wish, with the assistance of Inspector Teal. You will ask for no information, nor will you follow up the hints I have given you this afternoon. You will keep secret my real name, which is now known to you, until I wish the fact to be published. You will allow me to take what counter-measures I think fit to meet the offensive of the Triangle. That may seem arrogant," he continued after a short silence, as though the possibility had just occurred to him. "As a matter of fact, it's only to emphasise my determination. Anyway, you wouldn't all mess about with the case, so my reticence won't hinder you. Mr. Kennedy and Inspector Teal will vouch for my competence. In a fortnight the Triangle will have ceased to be--I can guarantee that..."

He paused, while Bill Kennedy and the for-once-completely-awake Mr. Teal nodded their answers to the unspoken question of the rest of the Board.

"Finally," said Storm, "if Sir John Marker would like to come into a private room with me, I will tell him the name of the Apex of the Triangle."

The Home Secretary deliberated for a moment, and then led the way. They were absent for fully half an hour, during which time Bill Kennedy appeared to go to sleep and Inspector Teal stolidly shook his head and refused to answer the questions that were showered upon him.

When Sir John Marker returned his face was white and he seemed to be shivering.

"Captain Arden continues with the case, on his own terms," he instructed curtly. "I may say that I agree with his attitude in every way. But keep it dark ... I don't want trouble in the House."

The other members of the Board stared at him blankly, for they had anticipated nothing so decisive. There was an eerie chill in the air, born of Sir John Marker's ghostly pallor, that would have shaken less matter-of-fact men. The hint of something vast and menacing and incomprehensible loomed over them ... something bigger than even the _Daily Record_ had ever dreamed of....

They broke up into little groups which converged on the placid Storm and the now weary Teal, while Sir Brodie Smethurst escorted the Home Secretary from the room.

As the Minister was taking his leave, the Chief Commissioner stopped him.

"There's been a lot of talk about that man Raegenssen," he said. "I've heard other things about him which make him interesting in a general way, apart from the Triangle. Can't I have that one question?"

The Home Secretary moistened his dry lips as he shook his head, and smiled crookedly.

"Oscar Raegenssen must have been reincarnated," he said flatly. "He's been dead two days..."