CHAPTER IV

TALKING OF TRIANGLES

Susan Hawthorne saw the door of the library opening slowly, and her heart stood still.

The man outside was Morini--she saw his baby blue eyes above the white silk muffler that was bound about the lower part of his face. She saw something else that was blue, also, but by no means baby like, something that came up like the head of a striking snake....

The electric light switch was close to her hand, and she clicked it down and ducked swiftly. Even as she did so the sudden darkness was split by a streak of orange fire, and a deafening explosion battered on her ear-drums and left them buzzing painfully. The next instant she had smashed the heavy telephone twice against the delicate lever of the switch and efficiently mangled the mechanism.

She moved silently away along the wall, and the terrible hunt began. The girl was helped by her knowledge of the room, but Morini crept after her with an uncanny accuracy in spite of the impenetrable blackness. Her chest was heaving so that it seemed as if every breath she took must betray her whereabouts as surely as a siren. The door was a little ajar, and the lights in the hall were on. There was no escape that way, for he would see her as she was silhouetted against the glare, and she had already had enough evidence of the grimness of his purpose. Once she saw him step cat-wise across the pencil of light that the hall bulbs smudged across the room, and with difficulty choked back the cry that would have been fatal. Once he fired again, at random, and she only just had time to drop behind a couch out of the way of the more accurate shot that followed instantly on the echo of the first when the brief flash had given him his bearings.

From outside came a swelling drone that grew in volume with startling speed and then died into a breathless purr coincident with the muffled squeal of rubber tearing on asphalt. Hardly two seconds later the bell at the back of the house rang stridently, and someone pounded on the front door.

Through the half-open window came Storm's voice:

"Stand clear of the lift gates, please! This is where I damage architecture!"

She saw Morini slip through the door and out into the corridor, and then with a dreadful premonition she rushed to the window and flung up the lower sash. Storm and Inspector Teal were on the step, and Storm already had his automatic crammed against the Yale lock and his finger was on the trigger.

"Storm! Stop!" she cried, and he looked round. "Morini's in the hall and the back door's broken in--he'll get you as you come in and escape easily!"

He only hesitated for a second. Then--

"That be bullraced for a yarn!" he sang out recklessly. "All aboard for hell!"

She heard the explosion as she dashed across the room and opened the door wide. The two men crashed into the hall, but she did not look at them. She was straining her eyes into the shadows at the end of the passage which led to the servants' quarters, and, used as she was to the darkness, she saw Morini a space of time before they did ... saw his gun leap up ... and hurled the priceless vase she carried....

Three automatics detonated almost as one.

Morini was hit by the vase as he pressed the trigger, and his shot went high, splintering the transom above the front door. As Storm fired back he raced towards the servants' entrance.

Mr. Teal laid an unexpectedly gentle arm about the girl's shoulders and led her into the library.

"There's another light," she said, trying to keep her voice level. "I smashed the big switch. A reading lamp, on the table--it's lucky Morini didn't find it."

Teal, groping round, located the lamp and turned it on. A moment later Storm returned. He had rolled back his sleeve and was endeavouring to tie his handkerchief round his wrist, and to her surprise and disgust she said the conventional thing.

"You're hurt."

"Not a bit of it," he assured her. "Only a graze--dear old Gat's going off, and I think I must be, too. It's time some of us old soldiers retired--Gat and I wouldn't have missed each other in Chicago!"

"He got away?" said Teal.

Storm nodded.

"That's the day's safety bet--clean! He got through into Park Lane, and there was a fast car waiting for him. All lights out, so I missed the number. It was Morini, of course, but we couldn't get a conviction--the defence'd produce half a dozen small men with washed-out blue eyes that you couldn't distinguish from Morini if they were all dressed alike and had scarves spliced on their dials." He looked at Teal, and his gunmetal grey eyes were alight with challenge. "And this is only the opening chorus. You wait till the balloon goes up!"

Inspector Teal stroked his bowler.

"Where's Hannassay?" he asked prosaically.

"Je-rusalem! I'd forgotten him. The fireworks ought to have woken him if nothing else will."

Upstairs, after an unavailing assault on the door of Hannassay's bedroom, Storm went around to the adjoining bathroom, climbed out of the window, and edged his way perilously along a two-inch ledge with the assistance of a rickety drainpipe. He came back to report that the room was empty.

"He must be out," Susan said. "It never occurred to me, though--he generally tells me where and when he's going so that any important messages can be sent on."

"Did he always lock his bedroom?" asked Storm, and she nodded.

"He had a safe there with all his private papers. The room's always locked as soon as his valet has swept it out to make the bed."

"Let's hope it wasn't burgled," said Teal. "Didn't you say there were two men at the back door?"

They went round to the back, and the detective made an inspection with the aid of his pocket torch. The door had been burst open with a jemmy of a peculiar pattern, and Inspector Teal examined the marks with a professional eye.

"That's Prester John's work," he declared. "I know that jemmy of his--he invented it himself, and it's guaranteed to make a safe look like a sardine tin."

"Get back to the Yard and send an all-station call for Morini and John," instructed Storm. "Send Henderson up here for the rest of the night, and tell Rankin to be ready to relieve him at eight to-morrow. Find out where they took Mecklen, and ring me here. I'll wait till Henderson arrives.... There mayn't be another attempt to-night, but if there are any strategists on the staff of the Triangle there may be. Oh, and tell Henderson to bring some burglarious gadgets along with him--I want to see if that safe's all right. I can't get in through the window--there's a patent fastening inside, and not enough handhold outside for an athletic fly."

When the detective had gone, he made a careful round of the room, but found nothing. Then he turned to the girl.

"I don't know what it is you're supposed to have discovered," he said, "but there's a bad hombre in the background who seems to think you spoil the view! Can you remember anything unusual you've come across in Hannassay's papers?"

She thought for a moment.

"No.... Well, yes, a few days ago he made me search his files for something about a man named Mattock. Somebody who forged a cheque with Lord Hannassay's signature and was caught and sent to prison."

"Did you mention that to anyone?"

"I did, as a matter of fact, though I suppose I shouldn't have. It was an uncle of mine on my mother's side--I didn't know where he was, but in the City the other day I ran into Uncle Joe and he made me have lunch with him. He always was interested in crime, and of course he started talking about it almost immediately. Then I happened to mention Mattock's dossier, and he seemed awfully interested--but Uncle Joe's interested in the weirdest things."

"Uncle Joe who?" Storm asked.

"Blaythwayt. He's got a job as manager----"

"Of the City and Continental Bank, Lombard Street, which same firm is honoured with the account of Olaf the Seabird. Je-rusalem! Things do run in circles! Why isn't this Regent's Park?"

Just before Henderson arrived a call came through on the upstairs telephone, and Storm learned that Lew Mecklen had been taken to St. George's Hospital suffering from nothing more serious than a flesh wound in the thigh, and that a detective was already guarding him. So far he had refused to make any statement.

"I'll see him first thing to-morrow," said Storm. "Get hold of the Assistant Commissioner. Lew must be charged to-morrow morning."

He shook hands with Henderson and led the way upstairs. From the detective he received a small leather wallet of fine steel tools and reviewed them critically.

"Anyone might think I was going to smash a strongroom," he murmured. "Gather round for a demonstration of expert yeggship!"

It took him only a couple of minutes to manipulate the lock, and then he straightened himself and pushed open the door.

The safe was untouched, and nothing appeared to have been disturbed.

"This is not exciting," he remarked, and re-locked the door on the outside with his instruments.

They returned to the library, and he gave Henderson his instructions.

"Of course, it's all wrong," he concluded. "The Triangle are so keen on broadcasting their visiting cards--why haven't we got a memento of their call?"

While Henderson talked to the girl, Storm embarked on a fresh search of the house. He combed every inch of every room and corridor, and was raking the study upstairs when Lord Hannassay himself arrived. Storm heard the voices downstairs, and came down with the irritating belief that he had overlooked something. As a matter of fact, he had, for as he descended the stairs he saw something gleaming at the edge of the rug in the hall.

It was a silver triangle similar to the one Inspector Teal had showed him, and had obviously been kicked out of sight when they charged in--it was barely visible except when it caught the light in a certain way.

Susan was just telling Lord Hannassay her story when Storm stroked in.

"Look for the trade mark on every genuine article," he said. "I hate these anonymous presents!"

He held out the token in one triumphant palm as he spoke, and the peer turned to greet him with a smile.

"Oh, Captain Arden----"

His voice trailed away, and they saw him suddenly go white. Henderson was just in time to catch him as he fell.

Inspector Teal stood on the threshold, a burly figure, hat in hand.

"I just dropped in----" he was starting to explain, and then he caught sight of the limp form in Henderson's arms and his jaw dropped.

Storm put an arm around Hannassay and brushed Henderson aside. Then he jerked the unconscious man from the floor and, heavy as he was, carried him without any apparent effort to the chesterfield.

He left the two detectives to apply restoratives, and led the girl over to the window.

Storm was the last man on earth she would ever have associated with nerves. He was too essentially virile--dynamic--and there was too much grim strength in every line of his lean, tanned face. His eyes were as cold and steady as chilled granite, and his every least movement showed the supple grace of the born fighting man. And yet the hand he laid on her arm trembled, and when he spoke she was amazed to detect the faintest unevenness in his voice.

"Hannassay fainted as though he'd seen a ghost, didn't he?" he said. "And I know the ghost. My God!---- Life's queer!"

"Was it the Triangle you showed him?" she asked.

He shook his head, and his white teeth gleamed in a mirthless smile.

"The Triangle brought it, but the ghost's name was Mattock!" said Storm.