Kate plus 10
Reggie thought the man had a message, but Vera, looking up, saw the
man’s evil face--and knew. She half twisted, half flung herself
against Reginald Boltover as the waiter’s hand came up to strike. She
saw the knife glitter for a space of a second and closed her eyes,
then there was the sound of a struggle and she opened them in time to
see the vengeful man flung backward to the floor and an immaculate
Michael Pretherston standing over him examining the knife with some
interest.
She met the inspector’s eye and smiled, though the smile was forced,
for even as he bowed, she heard the mockery of his surprise.
“Why, Kate!” he murmured. “I’m always meeting you.”
CHAPTER VI.
KATE CAME TO THE FLAT
“At 9:40 on the night of the 15th instant I was present at Sebo’s
Club. The room was full of diners and amongst them was Mr. Reginald
Boltover and a girl giving the name of Miss Vera Flemming, who was in
reality Kate Westhanger. At 9:52 an Italian named Emil Tolmini,
employed as a waiter at Sebo’s Club, attempted to stab Kate Westhanger
but was prevented and taken into custody. In the course of the
struggle in which he was disarmed he sustained a slight scalp wound
and permission was given for him to be taken to the kitchen to have
the wound dressed. I regret to state that he succeeded in making his
escape. He is a convict on license (record No. P.C.A./C.C.C. 85943).
He is an old associate of the Crime Street gang and was obviously
attempting to avenge himself upon the girl for some injury, real or
imaginary, which he had suffered.
“I made no attempt to warn Mr. Boltover as to the character of his
companion, but subsequently calling at his flat in Piccadilly on the
pretence that I wished to get information about the attempted murder,
I discovered that he had been introduced to the girl at a theatre
where she was posing as a chorus girl. She had evidently laid a deep
plan to meet him, for what reason it is not clear. He is a very
wealthy man and it may be necessary at a later stage to warn him, but
at present I have taken upon myself the responsibility of refraining
from that act.”
Michael Pretherston ended off the report with his neat signature,
folded it and inserted it into an official envelope which he addressed
to his chief. By good fortune he met that brilliant man coming into
Scotland House as Michael was going out.
“I think you did right,” said T.B., after he had heard the story; “I
wonder what her game is? I have a good mind to detail a man to take
the whole case up.”
“Let me do it,” said Michael, eagerly.
T.B. Smith pursed his lips.
“You are rather a big man for a job like that, Michael,” he said, “it
may turn out to be nothing more than a common or garden chorus girl’s
romance.”
“Kate isn’t the chorus girl type,” said Michael, “if it is big enough
for her to be in it, it is quite big enough for me.”
The chief thought for a moment.
“Very well then,” he said at length, “you can take on the job. Do it
by yourself if you possibly can, I haven’t any men to spare. But keep
in touch with me. Blowing a whistle won’t be of any service to you if
these people mean business and get after you.”
He hesitated again.
“Confound Kate!” he said. “I suppose you have circulated a description
of the ice-cream merchant?”
All Latin criminals came under this generic description with T.B.
Michael nodded.
“Well, good luck,” said the chief, “but be careful!”
When the young man had gone T.B. beckoned to an officer who was
passing.
“You’re the very man, Barr,” he said; “pick up Mr. Pretherston and
don’t lose him--you may choose your own opposite number.”
The sergeant saluted and hurried out after his charge.
Michael went back to his rooms with a light heart. It was the kind of
job that he liked better than any other. He had not told the chief all
his suspicions. Kate’s game was a big one. High-flyer as she was, she
was out for a height record--that he realised. There was some
association between her month with Lord Flanborough and the careful
cultivation of Reggie Boltover’s acquaintance. When he came to think
of it she must have met Boltover while she was still with Flanborough.
He had taken it for granted that the girl was a resident secretary but
possibly he had arrived at this conclusion in error. So it proved next
morning when he called Lord Flanborough’s house on the telephone and
had a private conversation with the butler. The young lady, during the
time she had been at Felton House, had left every afternoon at four
o’clock.
A little talk with the stage manager at the theatre showed that the
girl had never attended any of the morning rehearsals and had missed
one of the matinées. Michael saw this part of the scheme plainly
enough. Kate, through her spies, had discovered that Boltover had an
acquaintance who had a friend at the theatre. She had come to the
stage with no other object than making a friend of the girl who all
unwittingly was the instrument by which she was to meet Reggie.
The detective knew that this was no chance acquaintance. He followed
the manœuvres of Kate through all their devious paths. He took the
opportunity in the afternoon to call upon Reggie at his office which
was something between a board room and a boudoir.
Reggie’s theoretical interests were multifarious. He was the nominal
head of a dozen different corporations which his industrious father
had created for his profit. In practice he knew very little about any
of them and nothing about some.
“I hope your lady was not alarmed,” said Michael, with spurious
anxiety.
“Oh, no, the lady was not alarmed; oh, no,” said Reggie, shaking his
head violently. “Oh, dear no. She was not alarmed. Of course, it would
have been different if she had been alone, but being with me,
naturally she--er she--er was not alone.”
“Naturally,” agreed Michael.
“No, she was not alarmed,” said Mr. Boltover, “in fact, she was very
cool, remarkably cool. I have never seen anybody so cool.”
“I hope when you see her again,” said Michael, “you will tell her I
asked.”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Boltover heartily; “certainly I shall tell her
you asked.” And he added after a moment, “When I meet her again.”
“She seemed, if you will forgive the impertinence, so interested in
everything,” encouraged Michael.
“You are quite right,” said Reggie eagerly, “you are perfectly right.
That just describes her. She is interested in everything.”
“It is nice to meet people who are interested in one’s business,”
Michael went on artlessly. “I never mind people being interested in my
business, do you?”
“Oh, dear no,” replied Mr. Boltover in alarm, as though the very
thought that anybody should be discouraged from an interest in his
affairs, caused him acute mental unhappiness; “oh, dear no. Certainly
not. Not at all.”
“Of course,” smiled Michael, “she could not very well understand all
the complexities of your business, Mr. Boltover--it is such an
enormous one.”
“Well,” hesitated the other, “I don’t know. I am not so sure. She is a
very intelligent young lady. I was talking to her about my business
when this dreadful affair happened and she was so calm that she just
went on talking about it, don’t you know. My business, I mean. I
thought it was a most remarkable instance of coolness. I was telling
one of our directors to-day about it, and he thought it was a
remarkable instance of coolness. Yes, even when I was taking her home
she told me a lot about herself and--things. Her grandfather is a very
wealthy man, a financier. I didn’t know that.”
Michael might have said that he too was unaware of the fact, but he
knew just the moment when a tactless interpolation might dry up the
fount of Mr. Boltover’s eloquence.
“Very intelligent lady indeed,” wandered Mr. Boltover, “oh, yes, I was
talking about her grandfather--he is a very rich man. She thought that
he might be able to take one of our properties off our hands. I was
awfully surprised. Naturally, I did not think she had any money being
in the chorus and all that--I hope I haven’t been indiscreet?” he
asked anxiously. “You possibly did not know that she was on the
stage.”
“Oh, yes, I did,” said Michael with a smile; “you have betrayed
nothing, Mr. Boltover.”
“I am awfully glad,” replied the other, relieved; “what was I saying,
about her grandfather, yes. I think I might sell him that property. I
hate parting with properties--we have refused quite a number of good
offers--sheer sentiment, don’t you know?”
“But perhaps this is not a paying property.”
“Oh, no, not at all,” said Mr. Boltover; “by no manner of means
whatever. Still we don’t like parting with them. Of course, I talk a
lot of rot about people wanting to buy the works and I always tell
that great joke about a lunatic--ha, ha--but really it isn’t true. No,
not really true, oh, no.”
Michael had never heard the great joke about the lunatic. What he was
anxious to hear were details of Kate’s projected purchase but in this
he was foiled. There was precious little of the business man about Mr.
Reggie Boltover but one lesson he had learnt, and learnt thoroughly,
and that was the art of silence. His revered father was wont to say,
“If you never open your mouth, Reggie, nobody will know what an ass
you are,” and in business, at any rate, Reggie most religiously lived
up to this injunction.
What was the girl’s object?
Michael was puzzled. Strangely enough the obvious never occurred to
him, or if it did he dismissed it without a second consideration. He
did not look upon Kate as the type that would find any amusement,
whatever the profit might be, in the inveigling of a young fool to the
altar. Kate wanted the excitement, not the money. That was her
history. He had first met her when he was in the Special Department
and it had been over a little matter of a King’s messenger’s despatch
bag which on a cross-channel journey had mysteriously disappeared,
though it was practically handcuffed to the owner’s wrist, that he had
first become acquainted with the girl. He was interested in her, but
only mildly so, because, at the time, he arrived at a somewhat hasty
judgment. It was later, when the strong-room of the “Muranic” was
forced and twenty-five packets of diamonds vanished in mid-ocean and
when he had been in charge of the investigations which had resulted in
the imprisonment of Colonel Westhanger, that he had first formed a
true estimate of the girl’s character--an estimate which he had had
cause to modify, but never to change.
Michael lived in a big block of flats near Baker Street, where he
maintained a somewhat elaborate establishment for an inspector of
police. He had, however, a private income of his own which he had
inherited from his maternal grandmother and as he was a man of simple
tastes and very few extravagant needs, he was able to live very
comfortably indeed. He reached his home a little before 8 o’clock and
was astonished as he came through the lobby of the flat to meet
Beston, his man-servant, clad in fine raiment and going forth.
“Hello, Beston, where are you off to?” he asked in surprise.
The man touched his hat cheerfully.
“I am going to the theatre, sir, and thank you very much for the
tickets,” he said. “Cook went ten minutes ago and I stayed behind to
tidy things up.”
“Oh, cook went ten minutes ago, did she?” said Michael. “That’s good.
When did the tickets arrive?”
“About an hour ago, sir, by a district messenger. It was very kind of
you to wire to us that you were sending them.”
Michael laughed softly.
“Your surprise at my consideration hurts me, Beston,” he said. “I
always do things like that. By the way, did they spell your name
correctly in the telegram?”