The Secret Adversary
Vandemeyer still lay without a movement. With a sudden fear clutching
at her heart, Tuppence ran to the bed. The hand she lifted was cold as
ice.... Mrs. Vandemeyer would never speak now....
Her cry brought the others. A very few minutes sufficed. Mrs. Vandemeyer
was dead--must have been dead some hours. She had evidently died in her
sleep.
“If that isn’t the cruellest luck,” cried Julius in despair.
The lawyer was calmer, but there was a curious gleam in his eyes.
“If it is luck,” he replied.
“You don’t think--but, say, that’s plumb impossible--no one could have
got in.”
“No,” admitted the lawyer. “I don’t see how they could. And yet--she is
on the point of betraying Mr. Brown, and--she dies. Is it only chance?”
“But how----”
“Yes, _how!_ That is what we must find out.” He stood there silently,
gently stroking his chin. “We must find out,” he said quietly, and
Tuppence felt that if she was Mr. Brown she would not like the tone of
those simple words.
Julius’s glance went to the window.
“The window’s open,” he remarked. “Do you think----”
Tuppence shook her head.
“The balcony only goes along as far as the boudoir. We were there.”
“He might have slipped out----” suggested Julius.
But Sir James interrupted him.
“Mr. Brown’s methods are not so crude. In the meantime we must send for
a doctor, but before we do so, is there anything in this room that might
be of value to us?”
Hastily, the three searched. A charred mass in the grate indicated
that Mrs. Vandemeyer had been burning papers on the eve of her flight.
Nothing of importance remained, though they searched the other rooms as
well.
“There’s that,” said Tuppence suddenly, pointing to a small,
old-fashioned safe let into the wall. “It’s for jewellery, I believe,
but there might be something else in it.”
The key was in the lock, and Julius swung open the door, and searched
inside. He was some time over the task.
“Well,” said Tuppence impatiently.
There was a pause before Julius answered, then he withdrew his head and
shut to the door.
“Nothing,” he said.
In five minutes a brisk young doctor arrived, hastily summoned. He was
deferential to Sir James, whom he recognized.
“Heart failure, or possibly an overdose of some sleeping-draught.” He
sniffed. “Rather an odour of chloral in the air.”
Tuppence remembered the glass she had upset. A new thought drove her to
the washstand. She found the little bottle from which Mrs. Vandemeyer
had poured a few drops.
It had been three parts full. Now-- _it was empty_.
CHAPTER XIV. A CONSULTATION
NOTHING was more surprising and bewildering to Tuppence than the ease
and simplicity with which everything was arranged, owing to Sir James’s
skilful handling. The doctor accepted quite readily the theory that Mrs.
Vandemeyer had accidentally taken an overdose of chloral. He doubted
whether an inquest would be necessary. If so, he would let Sir James
know. He understood that Mrs. Vandemeyer was on the eve of departure for
abroad, and that the servants had already left? Sir James and his young
friends had been paying a call upon her, when she was suddenly stricken
down and they had spent the night in the flat, not liking to leave
her alone. Did they know of any relatives? They did not, but Sir James
referred him to Mrs. Vandemeyer’s solicitor.
Shortly afterwards a nurse arrived to take charge, and the other left
the ill-omened building.
“And what now?” asked Julius, with a gesture of despair. “I guess we’re
down and out for good.”
Sir James stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“No,” he said quietly. “There is still the chance that Dr. Hall may be
able to tell us something.”
“Gee! I’d forgotten him.”
“The chance is slight, but it must not be neglected. I think I told you
that he is staying at the _Métropole_. I should suggest that we call
upon him there as soon as possible. Shall we say after a bath and
breakfast?”
It was arranged that Tuppence and Julius should return to the _Ritz_,
and call for Sir James in the car. This programme was faithfully carried
out, and a little after eleven they drew up before the _Métropole_.
They asked for Dr. Hall, and a page-boy went in search of him. In a few
minutes the little doctor came hurrying towards them.
“Can you spare us a few minutes, Dr. Hall?” said Sir James pleasantly.
“Let me introduce you to Miss Cowley. Mr. Hersheimmer, I think, you
already know.”
A quizzical gleam came into the doctor’s eye as he shook hands with
Julius.
“Ah, yes, my young friend of the tree episode! Ankle all right, eh?”
“I guess it’s cured owing to your skilful treatment, doc.”
“And the heart trouble? Ha ha!”
“Still searching,” said Julius briefly.
“To come to the point, can we have a word with you in private?” asked
Sir James.
“Certainly. I think there is a room here where we shall be quite
undisturbed.”
He led the way, and the others followed him. They sat down, and the
doctor looked inquiringly at Sir James.
“Dr. Hall, I am very anxious to find a certain young lady for the
purpose of obtaining a statement from her. I have reason to believe
that she has been at one time or another in your establishment at
Bournemouth. I hope I am transgressing no professional etiquette in
questioning you on the subject?”
“I suppose it is a matter of testimony?”
Sir James hesitated a moment, then he replied:
“Yes.”
“I shall be pleased to give you any information in my power. What is
the young lady’s name? Mr. Hersheimmer asked me, I remember----” He half
turned to Julius.
“The name,” said Sir James bluntly, “is really immaterial. She would be
almost certainly sent to you under an assumed one. But I should like to
know if you are acquainted with a Mrs. Vandemeyer?”
“Mrs. Vandemeyer, of 20 South Audley Mansions? I know her slightly.”
“You are not aware of what has happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“You do not know that Mrs. Vandemeyer is dead?”
“Dear, dear, I had no idea of it! When did it happen?”
“She took an overdose of chloral last night.”
“Purposely?”
“Accidentally, it is believed. I should not like to say myself. Anyway,
she was found dead this morning.”
“Very sad. A singularly handsome woman. I presume she was a friend of
yours, since you are acquainted with all these details.”
“I am acquainted with the details because--well, it was I who found her
dead.”
“Indeed,” said the doctor, starting.
“Yes,” said Sir James, and stroked his chin reflectively.
“This is very sad news, but you will excuse me if I say that I do not
see how it bears on the subject of your inquiry?”
“It bears on it in this way, is it not a fact that Mrs. Vandemeyer
committed a young relative of hers to your charge?”
Julius leaned forward eagerly.
“That is the case,” said the doctor quietly.
“Under the name of----?”
“Janet Vandemeyer. I understood her to be a niece of Mrs. Vandemeyer’s.”
“And she came to you?”
“As far as I can remember in June or July of 1915.”
“Was she a mental case?”
“She is perfectly sane, if that is what you mean. I understood from Mrs.
Vandemeyer that the girl had been with her on the _Lusitania_ when
that ill-fated ship was sunk, and had suffered a severe shock in
consequence.”
“We’re on the right track, I think?” Sir James looked round.
“As I said before, I’m a mutt!” returned Julius.
The doctor looked at them all curiously.
“You spoke of wanting a statement from her,” he said. “Supposing she is
not able to give one?”
“What? You have just said that she is perfectly sane.”
“So she is. Nevertheless, if you want a statement from her concerning
any events prior to May 7, 1915, she will not be able to give it to
you.”
They looked at the little man, stupefied. He nodded cheerfully.
“It’s a pity,” he said. “A great pity, especially as I gather, Sir
James, that the matter is important. But there it is, she can tell you
nothing.”
“But why, man? Darn it all, why?”
The little man shifted his benevolent glance to the excited young
American.
“Because Janet Vandemeyer is suffering from a complete loss of memory.”
_“What?”_
“Quite so. An interesting case, a _very_ interesting case. Not so
uncommon, really, as you would think. There are several very well known
parallels. It’s the first case of the kind that I’ve had under my own
personal observation, and I must admit that I’ve found it of absorbing
interest.” There was something rather ghoulish in the little man’s
satisfaction.
“And she remembers nothing,” said Sir James slowly.
“Nothing prior to May 7, 1915. After that date her memory is as good as
yours or mine.”
“Then the first thing she remembers?”
“Is landing with the survivors. Everything before that is a blank. She
did not know her own name, or where she had come from, or where she was.
She couldn’t even speak her own tongue.”
“But surely all this is most unusual?” put in Julius.
“No, my dear sir. Quite normal under the circumstances. Severe shock to
the nervous system. Loss of memory proceeds nearly always on the same
lines. I suggested a specialist, of course. There’s a very good man in
Paris--makes a study of these cases--but Mrs. Vandemeyer opposed the
idea of publicity that might result from such a course.”
“I can imagine she would,” said Sir James grimly.
“I fell in with her views. There is a certain notoriety given to these
cases. And the girl was very young--nineteen, I believe. It seemed
a pity that her infirmity should be talked about--might damage her
prospects. Besides, there is no special treatment to pursue in such
cases. It is really a matter of waiting.”
“Waiting?”
“Yes, sooner or later, the memory will return--as suddenly as it
went. But in all probability the girl will have entirely forgotten the
intervening period, and will take up life where she left off--at the
sinking of the _Lusitania_.”
“And when do you expect this to happen?”
The doctor shrugged his shoulders.
“Ah, that I cannot say. Sometimes it is a matter of months, sometimes
it has been known to be as long as twenty years! Sometimes another shock
does the trick. One restores what the other took away.”
“Another shock, eh?” said Julius thoughtfully.
“Exactly. There was a case in Colorado----” The little man’s voice
trailed on, voluble, mildly enthusiastic.
Julius did not seem to be listening. He had relapsed into his own
thoughts and was frowning. Suddenly he came out of his brown study,
and hit the table such a resounding bang with his fist that every one
jumped, the doctor most of all.
“I’ve got it! I guess, doc, I’d like your medical opinion on the plan
I’m about to outline. Say Jane was to cross the herring pond again, and
the same thing was to happen. The submarine, the sinking ship, every one
to take to the boats--and so on. Wouldn’t that do the trick? Wouldn’t it
give a mighty big bump to her subconscious self, or whatever the jargon
is, and start it functioning again right away?”
“A very interesting speculation, Mr. Hersheimmer. In my own opinion, it
would be successful. It is unfortunate that there is no chance of the
conditions repeating themselves as you suggest.”
“Not by nature, perhaps, doc. But I’m talking about art.”
“Art?”
“Why, yes. What’s the difficulty? Hire a liner----”
“A liner!” murmured Dr. Hall faintly.
“Hire some passengers, hire a submarine--that’s the only difficulty, I
guess. Governments are apt to be a bit hide-bound over their engines of
war. They won’t sell to the first-comer. Still, I guess that can be got
over. Ever heard of the word ‘graft,’ sir? Well, graft gets there every
time! I reckon that we shan’t really need to fire a torpedo. If every
one hustles round and screams loud enough that the ship is sinking, it
ought to be enough for an innocent young girl like Jane. By the time