The Secret of Chimneys Chapter 28: Part 28

circumstances of his one meeting with Count Stylptitch. It was in Paris. At some considerable risk to himself, Mr. McGrath rescued the Count from a band of Apaches. He was, I understand—shall we say a trifle—exhilarated? Being in that condition, he made two rather interesting remarks. One of them was to the effect that he knew where the Koh-i-noor was—a statement to which my friend paid very little attention. He also said that the gang in question were King Victor’s men. Taken together, those two remarks are very significant.” “Good Lord,” ejaculated Superintendent Battle, “I should say they were. Even the murder of Prince Michael wears a different aspect.” “King Victor has never taken a life,” the Frenchman reminded him. “Supposing he were surprised when he was searching for the jewel?” “Is he in England, then?” asked Anthony sharply. “You say that he was released a few months ago. Didn’t you keep track of him?” A rather rueful smile overspread the French detective’s face. “We tried to, monsieur. But he is a devil, that man. He gave us the slip at once—at once. We thought, of course, that he would make straight for England. But no. He went—where do you think?” “Where?” said Anthony. He was staring intently at the Frenchman, and absent-mindedly his fingers played with a box of matches. “To America. To the United States.” “What?” There was sheer amazement in Anthony’s tone. “Yes, and what do you think he called himself? What part do you think he played over there? The part of Prince Nicholas of Herzoslovakia.” The match-box fell from Anthony’s hand, but his amazement was fully equalled by that of Battle. “Impossible.” “Not so, my friend. You, too, will get the news in the morning. It has been the most colossal bluff. As you know, Prince Nicholas was rumoured to have died in the Congo years ago. Our friend, King Victor, seizes on that—difficult to prove a death of that kind. He resurrects Prince Nicholas, and plays him to such purpose that he gets away with a tremendous haul of American dollars—all on account of the supposed oil concessions. But by a mere accident, he was unmasked, and had to leave the country hurriedly. This time he did come to England. And that is why I am here. Sooner or later he will come to Chimneys. That is, if he is not already here!” “You think—that?” “I think he was here the night Prince Michael died, and again last night.” “It was another attempt, eh?” said Battle. “It was another attempt.” “What has bothered me,” continued Battle, “was wondering what had become of M. Lemoine here. I’d had word from Paris that he was on his way over to work with me, and I couldn’t make out why he hadn’t turned up.” “I must indeed apologize,” said Lemoine. “You see, I arrived on the morning after the murder. It occurred to me at once that it would be as well for me to study things from an unofficial standpoint without appearing officially as your colleague. I thought that great possibilities lay that way. I was, of course, aware that I was bound to be an object of suspicion, but that in a way furthered my plan since it would not put people I was after on their guard. I can assure you that I have seen a good deal that is interesting in the last two days.” “But look here,” said Bill, “what really did happen last night?” “I am afraid,” said M. Lemoine, “that I gave you rather violent exercise.” “It was you I chased then?” “Yes. I will recount things to you. I came up here to watch, convinced that the secret had to do with this room since the Prince had been killed here. I stood outside on the terrace. Presently I became aware that some one was moving about in this room. I could see the flash of a torch now and again. I tried the middle window and found it unlatched. Whether the man had entered that way earlier, or whether he had left it so as a blind in case he was disturbed, I do not know. Very gently, I pushed it back and slipped inside the room. Step by step I felt my way until I was in a spot where I could watch operations without likelihood of being discovered myself. The man himself I could not see clearly. His back was to me, of course, and he was silhouetted against the light of the torch so that his outline only could be seen. But his actions filled me with surprise. He took to pieces first one and then the other of those two suits of armour, examining each one piece by piece. When he had convinced himself that what he sought was not there, he began tapping the panelling of the wall under that picture. What he would have done next, I do not know. The interruption came. _You_ burst in——” He looked at Bill. “Our well-meant interference was really rather a pity,” said Virginia thoughtfully. “In a sense, madame, it was. The man switched out his torch, and I, who had no wish as yet to be forced to reveal my identity, sprang for the window. I collided with the other two in the dark, and fell headlong. I sprang up and out through the window. Mr. Eversleigh, taking me for his assailant, followed.” “I followed you first,” said Virginia. “Bill was only second in the race.” “And the other fellow had the sense to stay still and sneak out through the door. I wonder he didn’t meet the rescuing crowd.” “That would present no difficulties,” said Lemoine. “He would be a rescuer in advance of the rest, that was all.” “Do you really think this Arsène Lupin fellow is actually among the household now?” asked Bill, his eyes sparkling. “Why not?” said Lemoine. “He could pass perfectly as a servant. For all we may know, he may be Boris Anchoukoff, the trusted servant of the late Prince Michael.” “He is an odd-looking bloke,” agreed Bill. But Anthony was smiling. “That’s hardly worthy of you, M. Lemoine,” he said gently. The Frenchman smiled too. “You’ve taken him on as your valet now, haven’t you, Mr. Cade?” asked Superintendent Battle. “Battle, I take off my hat to you. You know everything. But just as a matter of detail, he’s taken me on, not I him.” “Why was that, I wonder, Mr. Cade?” “I don’t know,” said Anthony lightly. “It’s a curious taste, but perhaps he may have liked my face. Or he may think I murdered his master and wish to establish himself in a handy position for executing revenge upon me.” He rose and went over to the windows, pulling the curtains. “Daylight,” he said, with a slight yawn. “There won’t be any more excitements now.” Lemoine rose also. “I will leave you,” he said. “We shall perhaps meet again later in the day.” With a graceful bow to Virginia, he stepped out of the window. “Bed,” said Virginia, yawning. “It’s all been very exciting. Come on, Bill, go to bed like a good little boy. The breakfast table will see us not, I fear.” Anthony stayed at the window looking after the retreating form of M. Lemoine. “You wouldn’t think it,” said Battle behind him, “but that’s supposed to be the cleverest detective in France.” “I don’t know that I wouldn’t,” said Anthony thoughtfully. “I rather think I would.” “Well,” said Battle, “he was right about the excitements of this night being over. By the way, do you remember my telling you about that man they’d found shot near Staines?” “Yes. Why?” “Nothing. They’ve identified him, that’s all. It seems he was called Giuseppe Manelli. He was a waiter at the Blitz in London. Curious, isn’t it?” 20 Battle and Anthony Confer Anthony said nothing. He continued to stare out of the window. Superintendent Battle looked for some time at his motionless back. “Well, good night, sir,” he said at last, and moved to the door. Anthony stirred. “Wait a minute, Battle.” The superintendent halted obediently. Anthony left the window. He drew out a cigarette from his case and lighted it. Then, between two puffs of smoke, he said: “You seem very interested in this business at Staines?” “I wouldn’t go as far as that, sir. It’s unusual, that’s all.” “Do you think the man was shot where he was found, or do you think he was killed elsewhere and the body brought to that particular spot afterwards?” “I think he was shot somewhere else, and the body brought there in a car.” “I think so too,” said Anthony. Something in the emphasis of his tone made the detective look up sharply. “Any ideas of your own, sir? Do you know who brought him there?” “Yes,” said Anthony. “I did.” He was a little annoyed at the absolutely unruffled calm preserved by the other. “I must say you take these shocks very well, Battle,” he remarked. “‘Never display emotion.’ That was a rule that was given to me once, and I’ve found it very useful.” “You live up to it, certainly,” said Anthony. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen you ruffled. Well, do you want to hear the whole story?” “If you please, Mr. Cade.” Anthony pulled up two of the chairs, both men sat down, and Anthony recounted the events of the preceding Thursday night. Battle listened immovably. There was a far-off twinkle in his eyes as Anthony finished. “You know, sir,” he said, “You’ll get into trouble one of these days.” “Then, for the second time, I’m not to be taken into custody?” “We always like to give a man plenty of rope,” said Superintendent Battle. “Very delicately put,” said Anthony. “Without unduly stressing the end of the proverb.” “What I can’t quite make out, sir,” said Battle, “is why you decided to come across with this now?” “It’s rather difficult to explain,” said Anthony. “You see, Battle, I’ve come to have really a very high opinion of your abilities. When the moment comes, you’re always there. Look at to-night. And it occurred to me that, in withholding this knowledge of mine, I was seriously cramping your style. You deserve to have access to all the facts. I’ve done what I could, and up to now I’ve made a mess of things. Until to-night, I couldn’t speak for Mrs. Revel’s sake. But now that those letters have been definitely proved to have nothing whatever to do with her, any idea of her complicity becomes absurd. Perhaps I advised her badly in the first place, but it struck me that her statement of having paid this man money to suppress the letters, simply as