The Man in the Brown Suit
Harry. When I had finished, he nodded his head in approval.
“Wise girl. You’ve made a clean breast of the thing. And let me
tell you I should soon have caught you out if you hadn’t. A lot of
people wouldn’t believe your story, anyway, especially the beginning
part, but I do. You’re the kind of girl who would start off like
that—at a moment’s notice, on the slenderest of motives. You’ve
had amazing luck, of course, but sooner or later the amateur runs
up against the professional and then the result is a foregone
conclusion. I am the professional. I started on this business when
I was quite a youngster. All things considered, it seemed to me a
good way of getting rich quickly. I always could think things out,
and devise ingenious schemes—and I never made the mistake of trying
to carry out my schemes myself. Always employ the expert—that has
been my motto. The one time I departed from it I came to grief—but
I couldn’t trust any one to do that job for me. Nadina knew too
much. I’m an easy-going man, kind-hearted and good tempered so long
as I’m not thwarted. Nadina both thwarted me and threatened me—just
as I was at the apex of a successful career. Once she was dead and
the diamonds were in my possession, I was safe. I’ve come to the
conclusion now that I bungled the job. That idiot Pagett, with his
wife and family! My fault—it tickled my sense of humour to employ
the fellow, with his Cinquecento poisoner’s face and his
mid-Victorian soul. A maxim for you, my dear Anne. Don’t let your
sense of humour carry you away. For years I’ve had an instinct that
it would be wise to get rid of Pagett, but the fellow was so
hard-working and conscientious that I honestly couldn’t find an
excuse for sacking him. So I left things drift.
“But we’re wandering from the point. The question is what to do
with you. Your narrative was admirably clear, but there is one
thing that still escapes me. Where are the diamonds now?”
“Harry Rayburn has them,” I said, watching him.
His face did not change, it retained its expression of sardonic
good-humour.
“H’m. I want those diamonds.”
“I don’t see much chance of your getting them,” I replied.
“Don’t you? Now I do. I don’t want to be unpleasant, but I should
like you to reflect that a dead girl or so found in this quarter
of the city will occasion no surprise. There’s a man downstairs
who does those sort of jobs very neatly. Now, you’re a sensible
young woman. What I propose is this: you will sit down and write
to Harry Rayburn, telling him to join you here and bring the
diamonds with him——”
“I won’t do anything of the kind.”
“Don’t interrupt your elders. I propose to make a bargain with you.
The diamonds in exchange for your life. And don’t make any mistake
about it, your life is absolutely in my power.”
“And Harry?”
“I’m far too tender-hearted to part two young lovers. He shall go
free too—on the understanding, of course, that neither of you will
interfere with me in future.”
“And what guarantee have I that you will keep your side of the
bargain?”
“None whatever, my dear girl. You’ll have to trust me and hope for
the best. Of course, if you’re in an heroic mood and prefer
annihilation, that’s another matter.”
This was what I had been playing for. I was careful not to jump at
the bait. Gradually I allowed myself to be bullied and cajoled into
yielding. I wrote at Sir Eustace’s dictation:
Dear Harry,
I think I see a chance of establishing your innocence beyond any
possible doubt. Please follow my instructions minutely. Go to
Agrasato’s curio-shop. Ask to see something “out of the ordinary,”
“for a special occasion.” The man will then ask you to “come into
the back room.” Go with him. You will find a messenger who will
bring you to me. Do exactly as he tells you. Be sure and bring the
diamonds with you. Not a word to any one.
Sir Eustace stopped. “I leave the fancy touches to your own
imagination,” he remarked. “But be careful to make no mistakes.”
“‘Yours for ever and ever, Anne,’ will be sufficient,” I remarked.
I wrote in the words. Sir Eustace stretched out his hand for the
letter and read it through.
“That seems all right. Now the address.”
I gave it him. It was that of a small shop which received letters
and telegrams for a consideration.
He struck the bell upon the table with his hand. Chichester-Pettigrew,
_alias_ Minks, answered the summons.
“This letter is to go immediately—the usual route.”
“Very well, Colonel.”
He looked at the name on the envelope. Sir Eustace was watching
him keenly.
“A friend of yours, I think?”
“Of mine?”
The man seemed startled.
“You had a prolonged conversation with him in Johannesburg
yesterday.”
“A man came up and questioned me about your movements and those of
Colonel Race. I gave him misleading information.”
“Excellent, my dear fellow, excellent,” said Sir Eustace genially.
“My mistake.”
I chanced to look at Chichester-Pettigrew as he left the room. He
was white to the lips, as though in deadly terror. No sooner was
he outside than Sir Eustace picked up a speaking-tube that rested
by his elbow and spoke down it.
“That you, Schwart? Watch Minks. He’s not to leave the house
without orders.”
He put the speaking-tube down again and frowned, slightly tapping
the table with his hand.
“May I ask you a few questions, Sir Eustace,” I said, after a
minute or two of silence.
“Certainly. What excellent nerves you have, Anne. You are capable
of taking an intelligent interest in things when most girls would
be sniffling and wringing their hands.”
“Why did you take Harry as your secretary instead of giving him up
to the police?”
“I wanted those cursed diamonds. Nadina, the little devil, was
playing off your Harry against me. Unless I gave her the price she
wanted, she threatened to sell them back to him. That was another
mistake I made—I thought she’d have them with her that day. But
she was too clever for that. Carton, her husband, was dead too—I’d
no clue whatsoever as to where the diamonds were hidden. Then I
managed to get a copy of a wireless message sent to Nadina by some
one on board the _Kilmorden_—either Carton or Rayburn, I didn’t
know which. It was a duplicate of that piece of paper you picked
up. ‘Seventeen one twenty two,’ it ran. I took it to be an
appointment with Rayburn, and when he was so desperate to get
aboard the _Kilmorden_ I was convinced that I was right. So I
pretended to swallow his statements, and let him come. I kept a
pretty sharp watch upon him and hoped that I should learn more.
Then I found Minks trying to play a lone hand and interfering with
me. I soon stopped that. He came to heel all right. It was annoying
not getting Cabin 17, and it worried me not being able to place
you. Were you the innocent young girl you seemed, or were you not?
When Rayburn set out to keep the appointment that night, Minks was
told off to intercept him. Minks muffed it of course.”
“But why did the wireless message say ‘seventeen’ instead of
‘seventy-one’?”
“I’ve thought that out. Carton must have given that wireless
operator his own memorandum to copy off on to a form, and he never
read the copy through. The operator made the same mistake we all
did, and read it as 17.1.22 instead of 1.71.22. The thing I don’t
know is how Minks got on to Cabin 17. It must have been sheer
instinct.”
“And the dispatch to General Smuts? Who tampered with that?”
“My dear Anne, you don’t suppose I was going to have a lot of my
plans given away, without making an effort to save them? With an
escaped murderer as a secretary, I had no hesitation whatever in
substituting blanks. Nobody would think of suspecting poor old
Pedler.”
“What about Colonel Race?”
“Yes, that was a nasty jar. When Pagett told me he was a Secret
Service fellow, I had an unpleasant feeling down the spine. I
remembered that he’d been nosing around Nadina in Paris during the
War—and I had a horrible suspicion that he was out after _me!_ I
don’t like the way he’s stuck to me ever since. He’s one of those
strong, silent men who have always got something up their sleeve.”
A whistle sounded. Sir Eustace picked up the tube, listened for a
minute or two, then answered:
“Very well, I’ll see him now.”
“Business,” he remarked. “Miss Anne, let me show you your room.”
He ushered me into a small shabby apartment, a Kafir boy brought
up my small suit-case, and Sir Eustace, urging me to ask for
anything I wanted, withdrew, the picture of a courteous host. A
can of hot water was on the washstand, and I proceeded to unpack
a few necessaries. Something hard and unfamiliar in my sponge-bag
puzzled me greatly. I untied the string and looked inside.
To my utter amazement I drew out a small pearl-handled revolver.
It hadn’t been there when I started from Kimberley. I examined the
thing gingerly. It appeared to be loaded.
I handled it with a comfortable feeling. It was a useful thing to
have in a house such as this. But modern clothes are quite unsuited
to the carrying of fire-arms. In the end I pushed it gingerly into
the top of my stocking. It made a terrible bulge, and I expected
every minute that it would go off and shoot me in the leg, but it
really seemed the only place.
CHAPTER XXXIII
I was not summoned to Sir Eustace’s presence until late in the
afternoon. Eleven-o’clock tea and a substantial lunch had been
served to me in my own apartment, and I felt fortified for further
conflict.
Sir Eustace was alone. He was walking up and down the room, and
there was a gleam in his eye and a restlessness in his manner which
did not escape me. He was exultant about something. There was a
subtle change in his manner towards me.
“I have news for you. Your young man is on his way. He will be here
in a few minutes. Moderate your transports—I have something more
to say. You attempted to deceive me this morning. I warned you that
you would be wise to stick to the truth, and up to a certain point
you obeyed me. Then you ran off the rails. You attempted to make
me believe that the diamonds were in Harry Rayburn’s possession.
At the time, I accepted your statement because it facilitated my
task—the task of inducing you to decoy Harry Rayburn here. But, my
dear Anne, the diamonds have been in my possession ever since I
left the Falls—though I only discovered the fact yesterday.”
“You know!” I gasped.
“It may interest you to hear that it was Pagett who gave the show
away. He insisted on boring me with a long pointless story about
a wager and a tin of films. It didn’t take me long to put two and
two together—Mrs. Blair’s distrust of Colonel Race, her agitation,
her entreaty that I would take care of her souvenirs for her. The
excellent Pagett had already unfastened the cases through an excess
of zeal. Before leaving the hotel, I simply transferred all the
rolls of films to my own pocket. They are in the corner there. I
admit that I haven’t had time to examine them yet, but I notice
that one is of a totally different weight to the others, rattles
in a peculiar fashion, and has evidently been stuck down with
seccotine, which will necessitate the use of a tin-opener. The case
seems clear, does it not? And now, you see, I have you both nicely
in the trap. . . . It’s a pity that you didn’t take kindly to the
idea of becoming Lady Pedler.”
I did not answer. I stood looking at him.
There was the sound of feet on the stairs, the door was flung open,
and Harry Rayburn was hustled into the room between two men. Sir
Eustace flung me a look of triumph.
“According to plan,” he said softly. “You amateurs _will_ pit
yourselves against professionals.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” cried Harry hoarsely.
“It means that you have walked into my parlour—said the spider to