The Secret of ChimneysPart 16
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Part 16
“I explained to Mrs. Revel,” he said, “that I had been forced to refuse your kind invitation—since it had really been extended to quite a different man. And I couldn’t very well foist a perfect stranger on you under false pretences.”
“Well, well, my dear fellow,” said Lord Caterham, “that’s all over and done with now. I’ll send down to the Cricketers for your bag.”
“It’s very kind of you, Lord Caterham, but——”
“Nonsense, of course you must come to Chimneys. Horrible place, the Cricketers—to stay in, I mean.”
“Of course you must come, Mr. Cade,” said Virginia softly.
Anthony realized the altered tone of his surroundings. Already Virginia had done much for him. He was no longer an ambiguous stranger. Her position was so assured and unassailable that anyone for whom she vouched was accepted as a matter of course. He thought of the pistol in the tree at Burnham Beeches, and smiled inwardly.
“I’ll send for your traps,” said Lord Caterham to Anthony. “I suppose, in the circumstances, we can’t have any shooting. A pity. But there it is. And I don’t know what the devil to do with Isaacstein. It’s all very unfortunate.”
The depressed peer sighed heavily.
“That’s settled, then,” said Virginia. “You can begin to be useful right away, Mr. Cade, and take me out on the lake. It’s very peaceful there and far from crime and all that sort of thing. Isn’t it awful for poor Lord Caterham having a murder done in his house? But it’s George’s fault really. This is George’s party, you know.”
“Ah!” said Lord Caterham. “But I should never have listened to him!”
He assumed the air of a strong man betrayed by a single weakness.
“One can’t help listening to George,” said Virginia. “He always holds you so that you can’t get away. I’m thinking of patenting a detachable lapel.”
“I wish you would,” chuckled her host. “I’m glad you’re coming to us, Cade. I need support.”
“I appreciate your kindness very much, Lord Caterham,” said Anthony. “Especially,” he added, “when I’m such a suspicious character. But my staying here makes it easier for Battle.”
“In what way, sir?” asked the superintendent.
“It won’t be so difficult to keep an eye on me,” explained Anthony gently.
And by the momentary flicker of the superintendent’s eyelids he knew that his shot had gone home.
14
Mainly Political and Financial
Except for that involuntary twitch of the eyelids, Superintendent Battle’s impassivity was unimpaired. If he had been surprised at Virginia’s recognition of Anthony, he did not show it. He and Lord Caterham stood together and watched those two go out through the garden door. Mr. Fish also watched them.
“Nice young fellow, that,” said Lord Caterham.
“Vurry nice for Mrs. Revel to meet an old friend,” murmured the American. “They have been acquainted some time, presoomably?”
“Seems so,” said Lord Caterham. “But I’ve never heard her mention him before. Oh, by the way, Battle, Mr. Lomax has been asking for you. He’s in the Blue morning-room.”
“Very good, Lord Caterham. I’ll go there at once.”
Battle found his way to the Blue morning-room without difficulty. He was already familiar with the geography of the house.
“Ah, there you are, Battle,” said Lomax.
He was striding impatiently up and down the carpet. There was one other person in the room, a big man sitting in a chair by the fireplace. He was dressed in very correct English shooting clothes which nevertheless sat strangely upon him. He had a fat yellow face, and black eyes, as impenetrable as those of a cobra. There was a generous curve to the big nose and power in the square lines of the vast jaw.
“Come in, Battle,” said Lomax irritably. “And shut the door behind you. This is Mr. Herman Isaacstein.”
Battle inclined his head respectfully.
He knew all about Mr. Herman Isaacstein, and though the great financier sat there silent, whilst Lomax strode up and down and talked, he knew who was the real power in the room.
“We can speak more freely now,” said Lomax. “Before Lord Caterham and Colonel Melrose, I was anxious not to say too much. You understand, Battle? These things mustn’t get about.”
“Ah!” said Battle. “But they always do, more’s the pity.”
Just for a second he saw a trace of a smile on the fat yellow face. It disappeared as suddenly as it had come.
“Now what do you really think of this young fellow—this Anthony Cade?” continued George. “Do you still assume him to be innocent?”
Battle shrugged his shoulders very slightly.
“He tells a straight story. Part of it we shall be able to verify. On the face of it, it accounts for his presence here last night. I shall cable to South Africa, of course, for information about his antecedents.”
“Then you regard him as cleared of all complicity?”
Battle raised a large square hand.
“Not so fast, sir. I never said that.”
“What is your own idea about the crime, Superintendent Battle?” asked Isaacstein, speaking for the first time.
His voice was deep and rich, and had a certain compelling quality about it. It had stood him in good stead at board meetings in his younger days.
“It’s rather too soon to have ideas, Mr. Isaacstein. I’ve not got beyond asking myself the first question.”
“What is that?”
“Oh, it’s always the same. Motive. Who benefits by the death of Prince Michael? We’ve got to answer that before we can get anywhere.”
“The Revolutionary party of Herzoslovakia——” began George.
Superintendent Battle waved him aside with something less than his usual respect.
“It wasn’t the Comrades of the Red Hand, sir, if you’re thinking of them.”
“But the paper—with the scarlet hand on it?”
“Put there to suggest the obvious solution.”
George’s dignity was a little ruffled.
“Really, Battle, I don’t see how you can be so sure of that.”
“Bless you, Mr. Lomax, we know all about the Comrades of the Red Hand. We’ve had our eye on them ever since Prince Michael landed in England. That sort of thing is the elementary work of the department. They’d never be allowed to get within a mile of him.”
“I agree with Superintendent Battle,” said Isaacstein. “We must look elsewhere.”
“You see, sir,” said Battle, encouraged by his support, “we do know a little about the case. If we don’t know who gains by his death, we do know who loses by it.”
“Meaning?” said Isaacstein.
His black eyes were bent upon the detective. More than ever, he reminded Battle of a hooded cobra.
“You and Mr. Lomax, not to mention the Loyalist party of Herzoslovakia. If you’ll pardon the expression, sir, you’re in the soup.”
“Really, Battle,” interposed George, shocked to the core.
“Go on, Battle,” said Isaacstein. “In the soup describes the situation very accurately. You’re an intelligent man.”
“You’ve got to have a King. You’ve lost your King—like that!” He snapped his large fingers. “You’ve got to find another in a hurry, and that’s not an easy job. No, I don’t want to know the details of your scheme, the bare outline is enough for me, but, I take it, it’s a big deal?”
Isaacstein bent his head slowly.
“It’s a very big deal.”
“That brings me to my second question. Who is the next heir to the throne of Herzoslovakia?”
Isaacstein looked across at Lomax. The latter answered the question, with a certain reluctance, and a good deal of hesitation:
“That would be—I should say—yes, in all probability Prince Nicholas would be the next heir.”
“Ah!” said Battle. “And who is Prince Nicholas?”
“A first cousin of Prince Michael’s.”
“Ah!” said Battle. “I should like to hear all about Prince Nicholas, especially where he is at present.”
“Nothing much is known of him,” said Lomax. “As a young man, he was most peculiar in his ideas, consorted with Socialists and Republicans, and acted in a way highly unbecoming to his position. He was sent down from Oxford, I believe, for some wild escapade. There was a rumour of his death two years later in the Congo, but it was only a rumour. He turned up a few months ago when news of the Royalist reaction got about.”
“Indeed?” said Battle. “Where did he turn up?”
“In America.”
“America!”
Battle turned to Isaacstein with one laconic word:
“Oil?”
The financier nodded.
“He represented that if the Herzoslovakians chose a King, they would prefer him to Prince Michael as being more in sympathy with modern enlightened ideas, and he drew attention to his early democratic views and his sympathy with Republican ideals. In return for financial support, he was prepared to grant concessions to a certain group of American financiers.”
Superintendent Battle so far forgot his habitual impassivity as to give vent to a prolonged whistle.
“So that is it,” he muttered. “In the meantime, the Loyalist party supported Prince Michael, and you felt sure you’d come out on top. And then this happens!”
“You surely don’t think——” began George.
“It was a big deal,” said Battle. “Mr. Isaacstein says so. And I should say that what he calls a big deal is a big deal.”
“There are always unscrupulous tools to be got hold of,” said Isaacstein quietly. “For the moment, Wall Street wins. But they’ve not done with me yet. Find out who killed Prince Michael, Superintendent Battle, if you want to do your country a service.”
“One thing strikes me as highly suspicious,” put in George. “Why did the equerry, Captain Andrassy, not come down with the Prince yesterday?”
“I’ve inquired into that,” said Battle. “It’s perfectly simple. He stayed in town to make arrangements with a certain lady, on behalf of Prince Michael, for next week-end. The Baron rather frowned on such things, thinking them injudicious at the present stage of affairs, so His Highness had to go about them in a hole and corner manner. He was, if I may say so, inclined to be a rather—er—dissipated young man.”
“I’m afraid so,” said George ponderously. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“There’s one other point we ought to take into account, I think,” said Battle, speaking with a certain amount of hesitation. “King Victor’s supposed to be in England.”
“King Victor?”
Lomax frowned in an effort at recollection.
“Notorious French crook, sir. We’ve had a warning from the Sûreté in Paris.”
“Of course,” said George. “I remember now. Jewel thief, isn’t he? Why, that’s the man——”
He broke off abruptly. Isaacstein, who had been frowning abstractedly at the fireplace, looked up just too late to catch the warning glance telegraphed from Superintendent Battle to the other. But being a man sensitive to vibrations in the atmosphere, he was conscious of a sense of strain.
“You don’t want me any longer, do you, Lomax?” he inquired.
“No, thank you, my dear fellow.”
“Would it upset your plans if I returned to London, Superintendent Battle?”
“I’m afraid so, sir,” said the Superintendent civilly. “You see, if you go, there will be others who’ll want to go also. And that would never do.”
“Quite so.”
The great financier left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Splendid fellow, Isaacstein,” murmured George Lomax perfunctorily.
“Very powerful personality,” agreed Superintendent Battle.
George began to pace up and down again.
“What you say disturbs me greatly,” he began. “King Victor! I thought he was in prison?”
“Came out a few months ago. French police meant to keep on his heels, but he managed to give them the slip straight away. He would too. One of the coolest customers that ever lived. For some reason or other, they believe he’s in England, and have notified us to that effect.”
“But what should he be doing in England?”
“That’s for you to say, sir,” said Battle significantly.
“You mean——? You think——? You know the story, of course—ah, yes, I can see you do. I was not in office, of course, at the time, but I heard the whole story from the late Lord Caterham. An unparalleled catastrophe.”
“The Koh-i-noor,” said Battle reflectively.
“Hush, Battle!” George glanced suspiciously round him. “I beg of you, mention no names. Much better not. If you must speak of it, call it the K.”
The superintendent looked wooden again.
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