returning back to town, after a late lunch, larose went straight to his flat in sloane square. he had some private business to attend to and some letters to write, and, besides, he wanted to think over his plans and consider whether he should approach scotland yard now and lay the whole matter before them.
carlyle mansions was not a very big building and contained less than a score of flats. the needs of those tenants who required help were looked after by a married couple and three maids, who all lived in the basement. the ‘mansions’ was four stories high, and was served by an automatic lift.
larose let himself into his suite of rooms, and throwing himself into an armchair, gave himself up to his thoughts. he always felt at rest and peaceful there, and very seldom entertained any visitors. only a few of his most intimate friends were aware he had any flat at all in town, and, in consequence, he was seldom troubled by callers.
so he was a little bit surprised now, when he had been there about ten minutes, to hear a ring at the bell on his door.
opening the door at once, he saw two respectable-looking men in workmen’s overalls standing outside. both of them were carrying tool-bags.
“come to look at the bath taps, sir,” said the taller of them, in a pleasant drawling voice with a faint irish accent. “it’ll be mr. harvey, isn’t it?”
“no, you’ve made a mistake,” began larose, “this is not ——”
but he got no farther, for the tall man with a lightning movement had reached out and struck him violently upon the chest. thrown off his balance, he staggered back in an attempt to keep upright, but the man was upon him like a tiger and tripped him heavily to the ground. then, half stunned by the violence of his fall, he could put up no effective resistance against the two of them and was speedily tied hand and foot and a broad length of cloth wound round the lower part of his face to muffle any cries.
“if you call out,” warned the tall man sternly, and speaking in quite educated tones. “i’ll have to stun you.” he shook his head. “but i don’t want to, for it’s not to my liking to hit a helpless man.”
but larose had no breath to call out, and, lifted into an armchair, he just stared at his two captors. even in his distress it appealed to him in unpleasant humor that twice within such a short space of time he had been caught when not upon his guard and ignominiously tied up.
the tall man went carefully over the knots and then nodded to his companion. “they’re all right, neil; and now we’d best tie him to the chair.”
so another length of stout cord was produced from one of the bags and wound several times round larose and the back of the chair.
larose spoke at last. “but who are you?” he asked in hardly audible muffled tones behind the thick cloth.
the tall man smiled quite a pleasant smile. “we are your benefactors, my friend,” he said, “as we are going to save you any further suffering your poor mortal flesh is heir to.”
“but what have i done?” asked larose, a cold horror seizing him at a realisation of what the words implied.
the man shrugged his shoulders, but then, immediately, smiled again. “still, there is no reason why you shouldn’t know. it can’t do you any harm.” he pursed his lips. “you have offended the irish republican army, brother, and so are now going to pay the penalty!”
“but i have never had anything to do with it,” remonstrated larose. “i have never interfered with it in my life.”
“perhaps not,” agreed the other readily, “but you are mr. gilbert larose, and you work for the police, and the secret service, and that is quite sufficient in our eyes.” he shook his head. “i’m sorry, but you are a pawn in the game, and so have got to be taken off the board.”
he turned back to his companion, and together they busied themselves with the contents of the second bag. a wooden box about eight inches square was produced, and from it, wrapped several times round, with thick corrugated paper, was lifted out a black object of the size and shape of a large navel orange. the tall man handled it very carefully.
“my god!” exclaimed the horrified larose. “is that a bomb? are you going to blow me up?”
the tall man nodded. “both guesses quite correct, brother, and you go to the top of the form.” he spoke almost with kindness. “now, don’t you worry, for you’ll not feel a scrap of pain. you won’t even hear it going off. you’ll know nothing.”
larose was in a muck sweat all over, but he pulled himself together bravely.
“i’ll buy you off,” he said. “this can be only a question of money. i’ll give you ￡500 to let me go. if you loose my hands, i’ll write a cheque, and one of you can go and cash it, while the other waits here. you can give yourselves plenty of time to get clear.”
“sorry, but we’ve been paid once,” said the man regretfully, “and we’re quite straight in our way. money’s very necessary to us, but we don’t work for it. we work for principle.” he held up his hand protestingly. “no, no, it’s no good arguing. you’re wasting your emotions.” there was quite a sad note in his tones. “so, give your last thoughts, my friend, to those you are leaving behind.”
larose felt sick with horror, but he realised it was no good pleading, and that the man would not be turned from his purpose. he was dealing with a fanatic, and, as with von ravenheim, one who was lost to all sense of right and wrong.
a length of fuse was produced from the bag, and the second man started to fasten it to the bomb, while the tall one lit a cigarette and strolled idly round the room, looking at the pictures and the ornaments.
but his attention was soon drawn to a pair of large silver-plated candlesticks upon the mantelpiece, and, lifting one down, he proceeded to examine it most interestedly. there was evidently something about it that was appealing strongly to him and, after a few moments, he called out with some enthusiasm, “here, neil, come and look at this! it’s a splendid bit of previctorian work and the plating is as good as anything that can be done now. we have not learnt much in a hundred years.”
the second man walked over to where he was and took the candlestick from his hand. “copper,” he remarked, feeling its weight, “and it looks like a bit of french work to me.”
“no, it isn’t,” said the other emphatically. “it’s english, right enough! look at the curves of the socket and the fluted lines of the stem. it’s a typical queen caroline and, if so, it’s just over a hundred years old. that is its original plating, too, and hasn’t it worn well? only just gone a little on the stem. i’d like old johnson to see it. it’d give him quite a thrill!”
he glanced over his shoulder to larose. “no, it’s all right, brother, we shan’t take it. we’re not thieves.” he made a grimace. “just executioners, that’s all!”
coming away from the mantelpiece and, the fuse now being adjusted, the bomb was placed close to the armchair, but beyond reach of larose’s feet.
then, making sure that everything was ready, the two men took off their overalls and, folding them up neatly, placed them in one of the bags.
“now you won’t have to wait long, mr. larose,” said the tall man, striking a match. “this fuse will burn for only ten minutes and then your troubles will be all over. just shut your eyes and make your mind a blank. good-bye, and thank you for being sensible and not making a fuss,” and in a few seconds the men had disappeared from the room.
larose looked up at the clock upon the mantelpiece. it was five and twenty minutes to four. then at a quarter to four he would have ceased to live.
in a frenzy of mental agony, he struggled furiously to loosen his cords. but it was not the slightest use, as they had been tied too securely and soon, exhausted by his efforts, he let his muscles relax and lay quite still.
he could hear the murmur of the traffic outside, but a dreadful silence filled the room.
he could smell the burning fuse.
so, his life was nearly run now! he would see his wife and children no more! never again would he hear their loved voices, never again ——
he looked up at clock. only six minutes to go now! he stared hard. only five! god, how slowly they were passing!
but tears now dimmed his eyes and he could no longer mark the passing of the time.
he breathed deeply and heavily in the last stages of his mental agony.
then a new sound struck upon his ears and he held his breath to listen.
he was sure he had heard footsteps, stealthy footsteps, as of someone treading softly and not wanting to be heard!
then came the click of a key in a lock, and in a lightning instant his door was flung wide and the room seemed to be filled with men.
“damnation,” roared someone in a voice of thunder, “it’s a bomb!”
larose closed his eyes. then he heard friendly voices, and, sweetest of all sounds, the sound of running water. someone must have torn off the fuse and thrown it into the bath!
“you’re all right, mr. larose,” boomed a big stout man, with detective-inplain-clothes written all over him. “we didn’t know what was happening, but we came just in time. that fuse had only about another half inch to burn. that’s right, boys! rub his arms and legs well. now, don’t you talk for a minute or two, mr. larose. just wait and get back your nerve. have you got any brandy here? just nod your head. take it easy now.”
but larose began to recover very quickly, and when be had drunk the brandy and was handing back the empty glass, he looked at the clock again.
it was only ten minutes to four.
then he turned his attention to those who were standing round him. the janitor of the building was there and four other men.
“you remember me, don’t you, mr. larose?” asked the big, stout man, who was evidently the leader of the party. “i’m inspector hammer, and was at the yard when you were there, although i wasn’t an inspector then. these are detectives canny, goodridge, and rice.”
larose smiled weakly at them all, but then, his strength returning every moment, asked quickly, “but how on earth did it happen you came here?”
the inspector smiled. “from information received,” he began, in the usual policeman stereotyped fashion, but then his face instantly sobered down. “no, this is no time for joking.” he looked at his watch. “exactly twenty-two minutes ago, as the half-hour was striking, an urgent phone message from a call office reached the yard that you were being held up at your rooms by two desperate characters. the speaker wouldn’t state his name, but he was so very agitated that we thought we’d risk it being a hoax. he gave your address, and so we jumped into a car and came off instantly. then the janitor here let us in with his master key.”
“yes, sir,” added the janitor to larose, “and i saw the two men go out a little while ago. but i only saw their backs, and so can’t describe them, except that one was taller than the other.”
“that’s not much good is it?” laughed the inspector. he turned to larose. “now, sir, do you feel strong enough yet to tell us about these men?”
larose nodded. “i had never seen them before, inspector,” he said, “and haven’t the remotest idea who they are. i opened the door to their ring and they just pounced upon me and trussed me up. then one of them told me quite frankly they were members of the irish republican army, and had been paid to blow me up.”
the inspector whistled. “the irish republican army! oh, if we could get hold of them! we’re wanting a number of those gentry just now. they’re very active and doing a lot of damage all over the country.”
“well, you will get the fingerprints of these two, all right,” said larose. he pointed to the mantelpiece. “for one thing, they handled those candlesticks, and besides, you ought to find them on the bomb.”
“good!” exclaimed the inspector. “then i’ll use your phone, if you don’t mind, and ring up for our fingerprint man straightaway. now if you give us a good description of them, we’ll ——”
“not here!” interrupted larose. “take me back with you at once to the yard. i want to get in touch with the inspector who’s been handling all these explosion outrages, and with any luck”— his eyes gleamed —“we’ll have them both in the cells before night.”
“but you say you don’t know anything about them,” exclaimed the frowning inspector, “and have never seen them before! then how are you going to get them taken before night?”
“you come along and see,” smiled larose. “i’ve got some good ideas. if they haven’t taken fright, we ought to get them easily enough.”
a quarter of an hour later, larose was telling his story to inspector drew, a man of much smaller dimensions than the burly inspector hammer.
the inspector heard him out, hardly saying a word the whole time. then larose asked. “now, from the descriptions i have given you, can you place these two men?”
the inspector shook his head. “never heard of them before! there are no men wanted, or even suspected of having been responsible for any bomb outrages, who answer to those descriptions.” he nodded. “i don’t think i am boasting when i state that the appearance of all the known bomb-men and the suspected ones, as well, are familiar to me.” he shrugged his shoulders. “of a number of bomb-men, and, unhappily, some of the worst, we have no descriptions. there is one among them, the ring-leader, and probably the mastermind of them all, who eludes us at every turn. yes, he and his particular little band move among us like shadows. they do their dreadful work and they are gone — like shadows, too!”
“leaving no traces behind them?” asked larose. “i mean you haven’t got finger-prints of any of whom you have no description.”
“oh, but we have.” said the inspector instantly. “in several instances we have the fingerprints which they have left behind them. now, in that explosion in the british museum the week before last, when one of the museum attendants was killed, we obtained the finger-marks of a bearded man who had been seen leaning against a window-sill in the gallery five minutes before the explosion occurred. we are sure that bearded man was the bomber, because no bearded man went out again through the turnstile and the beard was found later tucked away behind the hot water pipes.” he sighed heavily. “but i’m having a dreadful time, because i can’t pick up any trails. my department is in disgrace and any day now i may be told to stand down.”
“then if i give you these two men who were going to bomb me,” smiled larose, “even if they deny they were ever to my flat, their finger-prints may yet prove their guilt in other outrages?”
“certainly!” nodded the inspector. he smiled. “if you give them to us.”
“well, here goes,” said larose, always enjoying a dramatic situation, “and i think you’ll get them right enough.” he paused a moment, and then went on, speaking very quickly. “to begin with, i am sure they are electroplaters by trade. their overalls, in which they arrived, were clean and well patched, but there were some yellow-covered stains upon them, and i noticed also a number of small holes.” he nodded. “all the work of the acid which electroplaters use, and their fingers were stained, too.”
he went on. “of course, i know acid is used in many trades, but these men were unduly interested in some old silver-plated candlesticks of mine upon the mantelpiece. one of them was evidently something of an expert, as he guessed most accurately how old the candlesticks were. but it was the silver-plating which appeared to interest him most and he remarked that, although it must have been done a hundred and odd years ago, it could not be done better even now.”
“well, granted that they are electroplaters, what next?” asked the inspector, because larose had stopped speaking.
larose then spoke very quietly. “then this same man, as he was examining one of the candlesticks said, and these were his exact words, ‘i’d like old johnson to see it. it would give him quite a thrill!’” he snapped out quickly, as if as in old times he were an authority at the yard. “have a london directory brought in and look for an electroplater called johnson among the trades. if you find him, he’ll tell us who these men are.”
the inspector looked a little astonished and perhaps just a little awed. the deductions were so simple and larose was so sure.
a london directory was produced and, the trade pages being turned up, sure enough there was a j. johnson among the electroplaters. his place of business was in clerkenwell road.
“bring a telephone book,” snapped larose. “we’ll make sure he’s on and if so, take care there’ll be no running into a back room to give these men warning, if he’s in the racket, too.”
“yes, he’s on the phone, all right,” said the inspector after a few moments’ search, “and he must be in a good way of business, as he’s got two numbers.”
he prepared quickly for action and it was arranged that two cars should go. in the first would be the inspector and larose, and in the second four plain-clothes detectives. both cars were to stop a hundred yards away from the johnson shop in clerkenwell road.
the number of the shop was 218 and, reaching number 200, the first car was pulled up and larose and the inspector stepped out. larose was wearing a pair of big dark glasses, he sported a small moustache and his hat was pulled down well over his eyes.
mindful that j. johnson had two telephones, they were not surprised, upon arriving at his premises, to find that his shop was quite a good-sized one and, upon entering, to see that it was well appointed.
“if this johnson is in with them,” whispered the inspector, “then, no doubt, he is a large contributor to the funds.” his voice thrilled a little. “we may be lighting upon something good.”
but, enquiring for mr. johnson personally and being shown into his private office, they both instantly formed the opinion that he would be no supporter of the irish republican army. he was a well-dressed, smiling good-natured looking man, of middle age and massive proportions, and apparently not in the least likely to be associated with crime and political intrigue.
he looked very grave when the inspector told him he came from scotland yard. it was larose, however, who opened the questioning and, with no beating about the bush, he came straight to the point.
“do you know, sir,” he asked, “a working electroplater, an irishman, tall, fair, with curly hair and blue eyes, pleasing to look at and with some amount of education?” mr. johnson looked graver still.
“i do,” he said. “what’s he done?”
“if he’s the man i mean,” said larose sharply, “he’s a bomb-man, an active member of the irish republican army and, most probably, has been involved in some of those explosions which have occurred lately. who is he? you must not try to shield him.”
“oh, i won’t shield him!” exclaimed mr. johnson warmly. “i’m a law-abiding citizen, i am, and although personally i like the man very much, i’d be one of the first to give him away, if he’s been doing what you think. his name is fergus o’haran shane, and he’s got a little shop in lord street, just round the back of here. he’s a very clever craftsman, and when i’ve got any special work in a small way i give it to him to do.” he clicked his tongue. “dear me, dear me, a well read, nice fellow like him being a bomb-man!” he nodded. “but i do hope you’re wrong.”
“does he employ any workmen himself?” asked the inspector.
“only one young fellow, an irishman, too, called neil,” replied mr. johnson, and larose’s heart gave a big bump.
“is he on the telephone?” asked the inspector.
“oh, yes, i’ll give you his number. it’s on my little memorandum here. ah, i see what you mean! no, of course i wouldn’t warn him. i tell you i’m a decent citizen, and i hate all violence. look here, i’ll come straight away with you and show you where his place is. i won’t go in, but i’ll come far enough to show you that i’d have no time to let him know you were coming.”
so mr. johnson put on his hat and accompanied them round the corner, and with the four plainclothes men following not far behind.
“now, that’s his shop,” he pointed out, “two doors beyond that public house.” a thought struck him, and he stopped dead. “but i say, i say, do you think shane is likely to make a struggle, if he knows you have come to arrest him? will he put up a fight?”
“for sure he will,” nodded the inspector. “so we two are going in to engage him in conversation, and then my men behind will rush him. that’s the only way. he’ll probably be armed to the teeth, and he’d pull a gun if he had the slightest warning.”
mr johnson looked very troubled. “but as a detective from scotland yard, i’m afraid he may recognise you at once. i have just remembered one of the men told me a little while ago that shane often wasted a lot of time as a spectator in the police courts. my man said he knew all the judges and magistrates by name. so, depend upon it, he’ll know the police and detectives, too.”
the inspector considered. “that’s a bit awkward,” he said frowningly. “it’s part of our duty to face danger, but for all that, we don’t want to risk valuable lives if we can help it.”
“here, i’ll manage it,” said larose, and instantly he turned into a paper shop just by where they were then standing.
a minute later he came out with a score and more of newspapers under his arm. “i’ve bought up all his evening edition,” he grinned, “and half a dozen weekly ‘comics’ as well. they’ll settle him. i’ll throw them in his face and grab him.” he gritted his teeth. “i’d like to do the job myself, i owe it to him. rush in when i shout,” and, giving the inspector no time to protest, he strode away.
with his hat pulled well down over his forehead, he pushed open the door and walked into shane’s shop. it was empty when he entered and he had to rap with his knuckles upon the counter to attract attention. then, to his great satisfaction, it was shane himself who appeared from the workroom at the back.
with his cigarette case in his hand, larose at once walked a little way towards him, so that shane should not go behind the counter, across which it would be difficult to grapple with him.
“what’ll you charge to resilver this for me?” he asked in a very hoarse tone of voice, holding the case only a few inches forward, so that shane would be obliged to come close up to take it from him.
but the man did not seem to approach too readily, and larose noted he was frowning. he had just glanced at the cigarette case and then fastened his eyes intently upon its owner. he seemed wary and suspicious in some way.
indeed, he was suspicious, for had larose only known it, he could not have done a worse thing than to approach the irishman wearing dark glasses. shane was always suspicious of dark glasses, holding them nearly always to be an attempt at disguise.
larose thought like lightning. he had only just remembered, with a pang of anger for his carelessness, that he was wearing the same suit of clothes as when he had been tied up in his flat not two hours previously, and its color and pattern might any moment strike some chord of memory in shane’s mind. so he spoke up quickly.
“mr. johnson, round the corner,” he said, “told me to come here,” and at once the frown on shane’s face lifted.
“let’s look at it,” he began, “and ——”
but he got no further, for larose flung up the newspapers into his face and then grabbed him and tripped him up. he had no need to shout for help for the inspector, getting anxious because of the delay, had peeped round the door, and seeing what had happened, was by his side in an instant, with the four plainclothes men crowding in after him without making a sound.
shane had struggled furiously, but it was all to no good, and in less than a minute he was lying handcuffed and with his legs tied. from his hip pocket they had plucked a loaded automatic.
“now, we must be very careful,” said the inspector, preparing to lead the way into the workroom. “we’ve not made much noise, and the other man, neil, may be about somewhere.”
“no, i don’t think so,” commented larose, “or this chap would have shouted to give him warning.”
and larose proved right, for the whole place was empty. it only consisted of four rooms, the shop, the workroom and a kitchen and bedroom behind.
leaving the inspector and three of the plainclothes men to make a thorough search of the premises, larose went back to shane who was now sitting propped up in a chair. the irishman was looking very white, and was breathing heavily, but there was an easy smile upon his face.
“like a cigarette, brother?” said larose in quite a friendly tone, and instantly shane frowned and his face became the very picture of amazement.
“how the devil do you come to be here?” he asked.
“oh, your little cracker didn’t go off,” smiled larose, “and i just called round to tell you about it.”
“anyone shop me?” asked shane conversationally, and for all the world as if he were speaking casually to an acquaintance.
“you shopped yourself,” laughed larose. “you talked too much about that candlestick, and i guessed you were an electroplater. then an irishman who is an electroplater and in the telephone book is not hard to pick out. see!”
shane looked very crestfallen. “a— ah, i ought to have remembered that, alive or dead, you were a man to be afraid of.” he nodded. “still, it will be a lesson to me.”
“but one learned a bit too late, i’m thinking,” said the inspector, who had just come back into the shop. “the only lesson you’ll learn now will be at the end of a six-foot drop.”
he turned to larose. “it couldn’t be better. this is a great find. there’s enough explosive here to blow up the street.” he clicked his tongue. “and bomb cases, automatics and even a submachine gun! the cellar’s a regular arsenal!”
“but it’s not the only one we’ve got,” scoffed shane derisively. “why, man, there are dozens bigger than mine in london!” his eyes flashed. “you’ll never crush us!”
the inspector beckoned larose into the workroom and then whispered exultingly, “i think this chap will turn out to be the same devil who left that bomb in the british museum. we’ve found some wigs, and another black beard, the very spit of the beard left behind in the museum.” he nodded. “still, when we get his fingerprints, we’ll know for certain. oh, and another thing, there’s going to be a party here tonight. he’s got in quite a spread for it, half a dozen meat pies, about two bob’s worth of fish and chips, and four bottles of stout and a bottle of whisky.”
“splendid!” exclaimed larose. “you’ll nab them as they come in.”
“yes, but we’ll have to get this shane away without causing any excitement in the street,” said the inspector. “so we’re going to lift him over the wall of the backyard. well, i suppose you’ll be going now.” he shook him warmly by the hand. “thank you very much for what you’ve done for us, mr. larose.” his eyes twinkled. “if you’d come, i’d dearly like to have you back at the yard as my assistant”— his face sobered down, and he spoke with undoubted sincerity —“or even as my superior.” he bowed. “you’re quite a genius in your way, sir.”
driving back to sloane square in a taxi, with many a tremor of emotion, larose went over the happenings of that afternoon, and now he had time to ponder over it, he wondered with intense curiosity who it could possibly have been who had rung up the police to tell them he was in danger.
“surely i have no friends among this bombing crowd,” he told himself, “and yet, it must have been someone among them who had pity on me! whoever he was, he must be a bad egg himself, too, or he would have said who he was when he rang up.” he nodded. “probably i’ll never know!” he nodded again. “and probably i’ll never know either who set shane on to me.” he laughed. “but i guess it was my good friend von ravenheim. he is a quick worker and never lets the grass grow under his feet!”
having a good hot bath and changing his clothes, he went off to the apollo for dinner, thinking it another occasion when he ought to do himself well.
he was late and the place was very crowded, but he was directed to a small table for two, already occupied by one diner. as he was giving his order to the waiter, he noted subconsciously that his vis-a-vis had got his head down, with his serviette tucked in the old-fashioned foreign way into his neck.
but directly the waiter had gone, the diner opposite to him looked up. “good evening, mr. larose!” he said smilingly. “surely you haven’t forgotten me!” and to larose’s amazement, he saw it was royne speaking.
“great jerusalem!” he exclaimed. “what are you doing here?”
royne raised his eyebrows. “just dining! having a bit of dinner like you’re going to have yourself!” he laughed. “i was hungry and thought this place would be good enough for me.”
“and you look to be doing yourself well,” commented larose. “vintage champagne at about thirty shillings a bottle! good gracious!”
“well, i needed something to brace me up,” said royne. he sighed. “i’ve had a lot of worry since i last saw you.”
“but the police haven’t got you yet!” said larose.
“no, no, they’ve been very good to me that way. indeed, i almost think they must have been turning a blind eye towards me all the time. one of them didn’t even look in my direction when i took a bag of buns out of a car yesterday for my lunch. of course, i may have been just lucky. i hadn’t noticed he was standing there at all.”
“you’ve been hard up, eh?” queried larose. he frowned. “but you must be in funds now to be dining here!”
“oh, don’t jump at conclusions too quickly, please mr. larose,” said royne, shaking his head, “and please don’t look at the cuffs of my shirt, either.” he pointed with his finger. “this table napkin comes in very handy to hide a dirty collar.” he sighed. “i’ve been sleeping in the parks the last two nights.”
at that moment the waiter arrived with larose’s turbot and lobster sauce, and royne ordered filets de boeuf à la soubise.
a short silence followed and then royne, noticing larose was regarding him very intently, remarked gaily, “oh yes, i had a shave! a woman gave me sixpence this afternoon. i asked her for it, in belgrave square. the square happened to be rather lonely at that moment and i don’t think she liked to refuse. she gave it me all in coppers.” he nodded. “still, that happened to be lucky a little later on.”
larose frowned. “what’s all this farce?” he asked. “if you’ve got no money, what does it mean you being here.”
“it means, mr. larose,” said royne, “that i am having my last meal in public, a meal which i shall not be able to pay for when the bill is presented.” he bowed. “tomorrow, therefore, i shall dine with his majesty, if not actually with him at buckingham palace, in one of his subordinate establishments.”
“then you have no money at all?” asked larose.
“one penny,” replied royne. he produced it. “and that i shall give to the waiter.” he bowed again. “i shall go down with flying colors.”
a long silence followed, and then royne summoned the waiter. “two of your best liqueur brandies,” he ordered. “give one to my friend.”
larose chuckled. “really, mr. royne, your poverty makes you quite an agreeable companion! it appears, too, to have brightened up your wit, quite a lot.”
“i am always at my best in adversity,” sighed royne. “it brings out qualities that at other times i do not seem to be aware i possess.”
“but why are you so short of money,” asked larose. “why, you had ￡2,000 from the baltic embassy not two months ago!”
“but pellew was our joint banker, mr. larose, and all the money was in his name. we had plenty in the bank, but, with him arrested, i can’t get a penny of it.”
“and about those jewels? have they been sold yet?”
royne looked the picture of dejection. “those jewels were never sold, and now they’re lost for good.” he sighed heavily. “that day when you found me at marle house, i had come to get them. i knew they were hidden somewhere under the floorboards in pellew’s bedroom, and, after you had gone, i started to look for them, but i dropped a lighted match among the rubbish under the boards and in a second it was all ablaze. some wretched hooligans must have turned on the taps of the rainwater tanks when the house was unoccupied, and there wasn’t a drop of water to put the fire out. then the floor boards themselves caught alight and the whole room was soon burning. knowing the smoke of the burning house would be seen for miles away, i had to run for my life to escape being caught.”
“then the house was burnt down?” said larose.
“yes, gutted out, i suppose!”
larose nodded. “well, you’ve been a traitor to your country and it serves you right!”
“i know that,” said royne dejectedly, “and what little conscience i have left often worries me about it.” he nodded. “i was brought up a gentleman, mr. larose. i was in the royal navy once.”
“then the more shame to you,” scowled larose. “i’d never forgive you for that. you can’t have a scrap of honor left.”
something in his tone of contempt seemed to stir royne to anger. “but i’m not all bad,” he scowled back, “and, for one thing, i know when to be grateful.” he nodded. “you let me off at marle house, and i believe i did you a good turn this afternoon, or at any rate i tried to.”
“what do you mean?” asked larose.
royne spoke up boldly. “well, i saw a man trail you into carlyle mansions, and then, when he went and fetched another man who had been watching at the other corner, and they both went into the same building, i rang up the police. i was suspicious because, as they passed me together, i distinctly heard one of them say, ‘we’ll get him easy enough.’”
“good god!” exclaimed larose. “then it was you who telephoned the police.”
“yes,” replied royne emphatically. “i had only threepence on me, all i had in the world, and i spent tuppence of it on you.” he drew himself up with dignity. “i wasn’t intending to mention it, so that you shouldn’t think i was wanting to get money out of you because i’d tried to do you a service.”
“and you did do me a service,” said larose warmly, “and i’m extremely grateful to you.” he nodded. “in fact you saved my life.”
then, very briefly, he related what had taken place and was soon repaid for his confidence by seeing something of self-respect creep back into royne’s face.
“and i should say,” finished up larose, “that if you are brought to trial for your part in selling those submarine plans, what you have done today will very likely earn you a free pardon.”
“you really think so?” asked royne eagerly.
“well, we shall know for certain tonight,” said larose, “for, if the fingerprints of this fergus shane turn out to be those of the man who left the bomb in the british museum, they have caught one of the most wanted men. there’s a reward of ￡500 for his capture and you would be entitled to it.”
“good heavens,” exclaimed royne, “with ￡500 i could get to australia and start a new life over there!”
“but tell me exactly how you came to notice anyone trailing me?”
royne looked very shamefaced. “i was waiting in sloane square to touch someone for a bit of silver. squares are quieter than the open streets, and the police are less likely to catch you there. i’d been in the square half an hour before and noticed two workmen in overalls loitering about, one at each end. when i went back there the second time they were still there, and i was interested. then i saw you come by and i’ve told you what happened.”
“and you went and rang up at once?”
“no, not as quickly as i wanted to. i couldn’t find a call-office at first and when i did, there was a woman in it and i had to wait several minutes. then i ran back to the mansions, but just in time to see the men going out. although they had still got their toolbags, they were no longer wearing overalls, and it made me so curious that i followed them.”
“where did they go?” asked larose quickly.
“after cutting across the park they finished up in foubert’s place, just off regents street. they went in a newspaper shop there and, looking through the window, i saw them talking and laughing with the man behind the counter. they stopped there about five minutes and then caught a bus at oxford circus going towards the city. they had left their bags at the newspaper shop.”
“did you notice any name on the shop?”
“yes, it was o’donnell.”
larose snapped his fingers together delightedly. “another bullseye, perhaps!” he went on quickly. “now, my friend, your luck’s in tonight! i’ll pay for your dinner and then you’ll come straight with me to scotland yard and repeat all you’ve just told me.”
royne’s face fell. “but they’ll take me at once!” he exclaimed. “they’re bound to recognise me in a close-up.”
“but they shan’t touch you,” said larose emphatically. “i’ll see to that. you’ll be under my protection, and it’ll be a truce of god!”
they taxied off at once, and arriving at the yard, larose learnt that inspector drew was still in the building. he had been expecting that as he knew the inspector would be having a busy evening.
leaving royne to wait in the corridor, he was ushered into the inspector’s room. the latter’s face was one broad smile of delight.
“thanks to you, mr. larose,” he said, fervently, “i shall be a made man after tonight. the chief, the press, and the public have all been railing at my department for doing nothing, and now they’re going to feel very small.” his eyes sparkled. “i’ve just finished with a room full of reporters, and tomorrow their papers will be red-hot with news.” he calmed down. “we got the lot in shane’s place, the whole tea party, five of them, and they’re all heads in the irish republican army.” he thumped upon the desk. “their finger-prints are damning! that shane is the bomber of the british museum and there are two others whose finger-prints will get them fifteen years!” he drew in a deep breath. “oh, this is a great night for me, and i’ve got you to thank for it all.”
“and, perhaps now,” laughed larose, “i’m going to give you something more to thank me for.” he raised his finger warningly. “i’ve got a man waiting outside and he’s wanted by you chaps here. no, it’s not a crime of violence, it’s more one of passing on stolen goods. still, in my judgment, knowing all the circumstances, if you don’t take him no harm will be done. so, i’ve given him a safe conduct here. you understand? he’s under my protection.”
the inspector made a grimace. “certainly, my lord!” he said. “who’s the man?”
“he’s the one who rang up here this afternoon and started you on this grand trail,” said larose. “incidentally he saved my life.”
“o-oh,” exclaimed the inspector, “then whatever he’s wanted for, i’d be inclined to give him a handsome present and let him go free.”
“if i’m not very much mistaken,” went on larose, “you’ll find him worth listening to. at any rate, he’ll give you an introduction to some more of shane’s friends.”
so royne was brought in and very nervously told his tale. the inspector listened attentively and opened his eyes very wide when royne told him about the two men laughing and talking in the newsagent’s shop and leaving their tool bags behind them there.
“and you don’t want to give us your name,” he said when royne had finished. “i particularly ask that, because it seems to me you’re clearly entitled to the ￡500 reward for the information leading to the capture of shane.”
“but he won’t claim the reward,” said larose decisively. “he’s leaving the country next week. his evidence won’t be wanted.”
“all right,” nodded the inspector. he rose to his feet. “and in twenty minutes at latest we’ll be raiding that o’donnell’s newspaper shop in foubert’s place.” he smiled. “i like anything with an irish name tonight.”
“well, i’m going home now,” said larose, “but i shan’t be going to bed yet awhile, so ring me up if you have anything interesting to tell. you’ve got my phone number. you won’t find it in the book. it’s a silent one.”
larose took royne back with him to carlyle mansions, intending to put him up for the night. the two were in deep conversation when about an hour later the telephone rang.
inspector drew was in a state of great jubilation. they had arrested three more men and found another arsenal, containing even more arms and explosives than had been found in that of shane’s. he, the inspector, quite thought he would at least be given the o.b.e. now.
and while all these events had been happening, the lovesick herr blitzen had been spending what should have been a peaceful day in the country.
with his mind full of cecily castle and made bold by his thoughts of her, he had set off early that morning for wickham towers, hoping to be able to learn from lady willingdean where the girl was.
he had not forgotten von ravenheim had been positive her ladyship had been in the plot and fully aware of his real identity, but for all that he was going to interview her, feeling quite sure she would keep up the pretence of not knowing who he was and not refer to it in any way. indeed, he felt rather pleased they should be realising he was no commonplace foreigner but the mighty dictator of the country which was causing them such apprehension and fear.
so, intending, as upon his previous journey down to haslemere, to let von ravenheim have no inkling as to where he had gone, he had made no mention even of his going out at all. but then he had spoken very few words at all to the ambassador since he had become aware of his treachery, reserving everything he was intending to say until he would explode in wrath, when the matter of lord michael and sir howard was finished with.
he reached the car-hire station in great portland street and engaging a private car for the day, asked for the driver who had driven him before.
the man was sent for, and then, when blitzen had seated himself in the car, the former said most respectfully, “i hope you found your gloves, sir!”
“what gloves?” asked herr blitzen curtly.
“the ones you lost the other day, sir, when i drove you to haslemere.”
herr blitzen frowned. he did not like holding conversations with menials. “i lost no gloves,” he snapped. “who told you i did?”
“the man from the embassy, sir,” replied the chauffeur rather timidly, not liking the look in the herr’s eyes.
“what!” ejaculated herr blitzen. “a man from the embassy told you i had lost some gloves?”
“yes, sir, himmell, from the baltic embassy,” said the chauffeur, in all haste to explain. “he came here a few minutes after i had dropped you at the circus. he said you had lost some, and thought you had left them in the car.”
the herr’s face was black as thunder. “and he asked you where i’d been?”
the driver looked most uneasy. “not exactly, sir,” he faltered, “but it came out in the course of conversation. he hoped you had had a pleasant drive. you see, sir,” he added, “i know himmell well. we oil and grease herr von ravenheim’s car here; and it is himmell who generally brings it round. he saw us, too, that afternoon when you got out at the circus. he seemed to be waiting there.”
herr blitzen cursed deeply to himself. he had been many times a damned fool to come for a car so near to portland place. he should have remembered that. of course, von ravenheim had been spying on him, and had set his man upon the watch.
“start off,” he snarled to the chauffeur. “the man was fooling you. i’d lost no gloves,” and the chauffeur hopped into the driving seat, glad that the cross-examination was over.
all the way the herr was in a black rage, and, instead of giving all his thoughts to the blue eyes of cecily castle, her beautiful profile and the entrancing curves of her lithe and supple young body, he was now thinking all the time of what dreadful punishment he would give von ravenheim.
yes, his punishment would be dreadful; and, influential as the man was in baltic circles, he should suffer just as if he was the meanest peasant who had failed to acknowledge the greatness of his country’s dictator.
then ugly thoughts began to germinate in herr blitzen’s mind.
on the morrow he and von ravenheim would be together on a lonely marshland on a lonely coast? there would be muddied creeks all round them! they would be in darkness and death would be in the air!
he must think, he must think it out well!
arriving at wickham towers, the door was opened by the lordly-looking cramp. the butler was so profoundly deferential in his demeanour that herr blitzen half wondered if, as an old and confidential servant of the family, conversation had been careless when he had been present and he knew who he, the herr, really was. he regretted now, for the first time, that he had injured the man by pushing him down the stairs.
but he might have spared himself any regrets, as cramp’s politeness was only because ‘that damned foreigner’ had eaten his master’s salt and was therefore sacred in his eyes.
lady willingdean received him warmly, taking his visit, however, only as a courtesy one because he had recently partaken of her hospitality. she was really feeling extremely sorry that he had made the long journey, as she thought, out of politeness.
von ravenheim had been quite wrong, in stating that, knowing who he was, she had purposely decoyed him down to wickham towers. as a matter of fact, she knew nothing whatever about him, except that he was a friend of her friends the two castle girls.
herr blitzen asked at once if she could tell him where cecily was, and his heart sank when she said she had no idea at all; indeed, had not heard from her since the week-end at the towers.
“but i know what her work has been,” frowned blitzen, thinking by saying that, lady willingdean would understand he was harboring no resentment because of the way cecily had been deceiving him.
but lady willingdean only thought he was referring to cecily’s work at the war office, and commented smilingly. “yes, we all think it very patriotic of her. both girls are quite well off and have no need to do any work like that at all.” then she added, “but wasn’t it dreadful those men trying to kidnap them?”
“yes, it was,” said herr blitzen with the utmost sternness, “and i intend the instigator of it all shall be most severely punished.”
lady willingdean wondered what on earth he could have to do with it, and she was also wondering vaguely why cecily had dropped him so suddenly and was not now letting him know where she was. but his next words made her, she thought, understand.
“i want to find her,” he went on. he spoke slowly. “i intend to make her my wife,” and if he had though he would surprise lady willingdean, he was certainly quite right in the supposition.
she literally gasped. she knew cecily was engaged; but, all apart from that, she was certain the girl would never give her affections to a man of herr blitzen’s type, and a foreigner at that. she would have to break it very gently to him about captain best.
“yes,” went on the herr pompously and not a little gratified at the effect he had produced, “our differing positions in the world in no wise deters me from contracting the alliance. i am fully resolved upon it; and if anyone disparages my wife they will do so at their peril.”
lady willingdean felt uneasy. except that he thought he was going to marry cecily castle, she could not understand what he meant. she did not, however, like his manner now. it was truculent, and as if he imagined he could do what he liked. she was fearing that if he were crossed he might become almost abusive. no, it would be better not to tell him anything about captain best now. she would leave that to someone else.
so she just nodded as if she were in entire agreement with him. “but then, of course, no one would disparage cecily,” she said. “she is such a charming girl.”
“and she will be the uncrowned queen of my great kingdom!” exclaimed herr blitzen fervently. “i shall be the envy of fifty million men and she will be the idol of a hundred million men and women.”
lady willingdean felt really frightened. he must be out of his mind, she was sure. she had been intending to ask him to stay to lunch but now all she thought of was how quickly to get him out of the house. she looked furtively at the bell and wondered if cramp would answer it quickly if she rang.
then, to her great relief, blitzen rose up from his chair and said he must be going.
“but how do you advise me to find out where miss castle is?” he asked.
“o-oh, that will be quite easy,” she replied. “go to the war office, and they’ll tell you at once.” then, determined to warn cecily, she added quickly. “but don’t go there until monday. saturday’s always a holiday with them, and on fridays they always leave very early.”
herr blitzen took his leave feeling quite sure in his mind that lady willingdean had been most impressed at the idea of the great honor he was proposing to confer upon her young friend, and cramp bowed so deeply when he was letting him out of the front door that, to the butler’s unbounded surprise, he gave him a treasury half note.
all that cramp’s deep bow had, however, meant, was that he had been trying to suppress a hiccough. he had just had a sandwich of mixed pickles, and pickles always affected him that way.
