CHAPTER XXXIV.

LARRY INSPECTS A HOUSE

Larry jerked open the gates on the ground floor, and staggered from the lift-shaft to meet the dumbfounded Dr. Judd standing in an attitude of surprise, and incredulity expressed on every line of his countenance.

“Whatever has happened?” he demanded anxiously.

“A miracle!” said Larry, with a touch of grimness. “I seem to have fallen about four feet. You sent for me, Dr. Judd.”

Dr. Judd shook his head.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what this is all about,” he said. “Will you come up to my office?”

“I don’t think that is necessary,” said Larry. “You sent a telephone message asking me to come here at once because you had something important to communicate to me. I’m going up,” he said viciously. “There’s a gentleman on the top floor whose acquaintance I should like to make.”

“I assure you, Mr. Holt,” said the doctor earnestly, “that I have never sent for you or communicated with you in any way. I sent my porter out on a message and then remembered that I hadn’t any cigarettes and foolishly left this great building unattended. You didn’t step into the wrong lift, did you?”

A slow smile came to Larry’s face.

“I rather fancy I did,” said he.

“Good heavens!” gasped the doctor. “Why, you might have been killed!”

“I don’t exactly know what happened as it is,” said Larry.

“Only one lift is working,” explained the doctor. “Something went wrong with the motors and we’re working them on balance. That is to say, one elevator comes down while the other goes up. Taking advantage of the fact that to-morrow is Sunday, the workmen were repairing the floor of number two elevator, which has worn rather thin----”

“And spread some pieces of paper and canvas in its place, I presume?” said Larry, who was impolite and well aware of the fact. “Anyway, I’m going up now,” he said, and they went together in the sound elevator.

Harvey was halfway down to his chief, and they met him.

“Thank God you’re not hurt,” he said.

Larry shook his head.

“I could have only been six feet from the ground when I dropped. I didn’t realize that this infernal elevator was descending all the time the gentleman was shying things at me.”

“Somebody throwing at you, sir? I thought I heard a bit of iron strike the bottom of the shaft.”

The elevator only went as far as the fourth floor. The upper floor was reached by a stairway. Larry came up to the darkened landing to find, as he had expected, that his assailant had gone. Which way he had gone there was no need to ask, for in the ceiling at the end of the passage was a square patch of light where a trap-door had been raised, and beneath there was a pair of steps.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” said Dr. Judd, when they rejoined him.

He looked unusually pale and his voice quavered.

“Some fool must have played a practical joke which might have had very serious consequences. How did you save yourself?”

But Larry was in no mood for narrative, and he left a perturbed Dr. Judd with a curt “Good-night.”

“And to-morrow, Harvey,” said Larry, “I shall be at the office at half-past nine, and I want you to be there to meet me. The clearing-up process begins in earnest to-morrow and this day week, please God, there will be no Stuart mystery.”

* * * * *

“My dear,” said Larry Holt at breakfast the next morning, and his tone was at once paternal and apprehensive, “I said one large prayer last night, and it was one of thankfulness that your prophecy is coming true.”

“About capturing the gang?” she asked.

“Something like that,” said he, rising.

“Are you going without me?” she asked in surprise as he rose from the table.

“Yes,” he hesitated, “I am going to pursue a little clue which may be a very big clue indeed.”

She looked at him doubtfully.

“I couldn’t come with you, I suppose?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“No, this is a job which I must do entirely on my own,” he said. “Anyway, it is necessary that I should break the law to make my investigations, and I cannot be responsible for leading you from the straight path.”

“I don’t think it would worry me very much,” she smiled, “but you don’t want to tell me, that’s it, isn’t it?”

“You’ve guessed it first time,” said Larry. “The noble Sunny will look after you and escort you to Scotland Yard, and he will be bulging with weapons of a lethal character.”

Sunny blushed, but recovered immediately.

“Yes, sir,” said he, “I’m thinking of sending your overcoat to be cleaned for the winter.”

“What on earth has that to do with escorting Miss Ward to Scotland Yard?” asked Larry in astonishment.

“Nothing, sir,” said Sunny, “except it will be very cold round about November, and they take a long time to clean overcoats.”

“In fact,” said the girl with a smile, “Sunny is being nicely domestic and is taking a very optimistic view of the outcome of this case. Where will this clue lead you?” she asked. “I’d rather like to know, because----” She stopped. “Well, in case you are ever missing.”

“It is leading me to Hampstead,” said Larry.

She drew a deep sigh.

“I was dreadfully afraid it was somewhere else,” she said.

He wondered why she was afraid, but it was not a subject that he wished to pursue because he had lied outrageously.

Half an hour after he reached the Yard, two slightly soiled men in the shabby uniform of the North Metropolitan Gas Company walked out the Whitehall end of Scotland Yard, one carrying a bag of tools, and boarded a bus. They were set down within a quarter of a mile of their destination and walked the remainder of the journey, stopping to survey the house wherein Larry had decided would be found the solution of Gordon Stuart’s death.

It was an unusual-looking house, bare and grim, with few windows, and those heavily barred.

“The man who planned that must have thought he was designing a prison, sir,” said Harvey.

“Maybe he was,” replied Larry. “Harvey, if what Lew the blind man told us is true, then we have come to the end of the chase.”

Harvey was shocked.

“But this is only a look-over, sir,” he said. “You don’t really expect to finish the case on this one inspection?”

Larry nodded.

“When I enter that house I am pulling into material shape every dream I have dreamt, every theory I have evolved. I stand or fall by the result.”

“Does Miss Ward know----?” began Harvey boldly.

“This is the one thing that Miss Ward doesn’t know,” smiled Larry. Crossing the road, he mounted the steps and rang the bell.

The door was opened by a manservant, and to him Larry Holt spoke shortly and with authority, and they were ushered into the hall.

“Remember, you are to keep our visit a secret,” said Larry.

“You can depend on me, Mr. Holt,” said the man, who had turned a sickly green at the detective’s appearance.

The hall was wide and lofty, panelled in oak from the tessellated marble floor to the ceiling. The only furniture was a table and a chair, Larry noted. There were no lights visible, and he gathered that illumination was furnished by lamps concealed in the cornices. Other illuminations were furnished by a long, narrow window of frosted glass, through which the shadow of the bars could be seen. There was no stairway leading from the hall, but there was a doorway immediately facing the street door, which Larry guessed concealed the staircase. On the other side of the hall was a second door, and these were the only apparent means of egress from the passage.

He opened the door on the right and found himself in a large and beautifully furnished _salon_. The walls were hung about with pictures and tapestries, and on the polished floor were half a dozen Persian rugs, which Larry could see were worth a fortune.

There were six stained-glass windows in this room, and each was a masterpiece. By their side hung heavy velvet curtains which could be so drawn that the window excluded all light. One silver electrolier hung in the middle of the apartment, and there were no other lights, though here again Larry supposed that the main illumination came from concealed lamps.

He walked across to the big fireplace with its silver grate and fixtures, and examined two letters which lay open upon a table by the side of the big armchair. They were of no importance, and he continued his search.

From the main apartment another door opened on to a flight of stairs, which led to a suite of bedrooms, a little drawing room, and a large study, which was over the _salon_ and covered practically the same area.

His search upstairs was more or less perfunctory, though his examination of the corridor from whence the bedrooms gave was of a more careful and exacting character. But he came down again to the _salon_, satisfied in his mind that what had to be discovered was to be looked for on the lower floor.

He found the servant in the room when he came down and dismissed him sharply.

“Go back to the hall,” he said, and sulkily the man obeyed.

And now Larry gave every minute to an examination of the panelled walls of the room--particularly that wall which was opposite the door through which he and Harvey had entered. So cunningly had the panelling been arranged that it was a long time before he found the concealed door; and then it was not where he had been looking, but on a level with the stained-glass window. He remembered then having seen from the outside a small semicircular obtrusion from the main wall of the building.

“Here we are, Harvey!” he said exultantly, as he pulled up a carved wreath which seemed to be part of the wall’s decorations and disclosed a tiny keyhole. He took the packet of keys from his pocket and tried first one and then the other. At the fourth trial a lock slipped back and the door opened inwards.

He was right! He knew it at that moment. The joy of accomplishment set his heart beating faster--the knowledge that he had at last a tangible something to show, not to the Commissioner, not to his superiors, but to the girl who was more to him than career or life, brought a new colour to his cheeks and a brighter light to his eyes.

He was in a small bell-shaped apartment, with a domed roof, a room so small that the door, when it was opened, touched the opposite wall. It was made of concrete, and a flight of steps leading down to the cellar were also of this material.

The first thing that caught his eye was an electric switch and this he snapped down, illuminating a lower landing. There was another door to the left, and a further flight of steps which disappeared in darkness. No effort had been made to conceal the keyhole of the door, and one of his keys opened it.

He found himself in a low-roofed concrete chamber, about five foot six in height and, as near as he could judge, about ten feet square. He searched for, and found, the electric switch and illuminated the apartment.

“What do you think of this, Harvey?”

“What are they running?” asked Harvey in surprise. “An electric light plant?”

Larry shook his head.

“No,” he said, “this isn’t a light plant. I know very little about machinery, but I have an idea that this gadget is a pump.”

He examined the machinery more carefully.

“Yes, it is a pump,” he said, “one of the type which is used in ships to trim the ballast tanks.”

A thick cable was suspended on brackets along the wall, and he felt this gingerly.

“Electric,” he said. “This is where he gets his power.”

On the wall was a switchboard and what seemed an independent lever. He examined this closely and before he went on to yet another machine.

“And this is the ventilating plant,” he said, pointing to a barrel-shaped instrument. “You notice the bad-air exhaust?”

“He’s a thorough gentleman, this,” said Sergeant Harvey.

“Very,” agreed Larry, and they walked out of the room, locking the door behind them.

“A door over there leading to the yard,” said Larry, pointing to the wall opposite the machine-room.

Harvey saw no door, but followed his leader down a further flight of stairs.

“Ten steps,” Larry warned, and then he came against a door. A heavy door of ferro-concrete hung upon hinges of toughened bronze. This Larry confirmed before he went any farther. He expected to find bronze, and would have been surprised if the hinges had been made of any other material. He had two fears: one that the doors would be fitted with bolts, and the other that they were impossible to open from the inside. This latter fear, he saw, was groundless, for the keyhole was covered from the outside by a screw cap. He twisted the cover off and opened the door. It swung back heavily, and he measured the edge.

“Four inches thick!” he said grimly. “He takes no chances.”

Behind the first door was another of steel, and this, too, he unlocked. And now he paused and he felt his breath grow laboured.

“Take note of this room to which we are coming,” said Larry Holt, “for it was here that Gordon Stuart died!”