The Secret of Chimneys
“He was still asleep, sir. We’ve been up all night, as I told you.”
“Oh, quite so. I am frequently up nearly the whole night myself. To do
the work of thirty-six hours in twenty-four, that is my constant task!
Send Mr. Eversleigh over at once when you get back, will you, Battle?”
“I will give him your message, sir.”
“Thank you, Battle. I realize perfectly that you had to repose a
certain amount of confidence in him. But do you think it was strictly
necessary to take my cousin, Mrs. Revel, into your confidence also?”
“In view of the name signed to those letters, I do, Mr. Lomax.”
“An amazing piece of effrontery,” murmured George, his brow darkened
as he looked at the bundle of letters. “I remember the late King of
Herzoslovakia. A charming fellow, but weak—deplorably weak. A tool in
the hands of an unscrupulous woman. Have you any theory as to how these
letters came to be restored to Mr. Cade?”
“It’s my opinion,” said Battle, “that if people can’t get a thing one
way—they try another.”
“I don’t quite follow you,” said George.
“This crook, this King Victor, he’s well aware by now that the Council
Chamber is watched. So he’ll let us have the letters, and let us do
the decoding, and let us find the hiding-place. And then—trouble! But
Lemoine and I between us will attend to that.”
“You’ve got a plan, eh?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’ve got a plan. But I’ve got an idea.
It’s a very useful thing sometimes, an idea.”
Thereupon Superintendent Battle took his departure.
He had no intention of taking George any further into his confidence.
On the way back, he passed Anthony on the road and stopped.
“Going to give me a lift back to the house?” asked Anthony. “That’s
good.”
“Where have you been, Mr. Cade?”
“Down to the station to inquire about trains.”
Battle raised his eyebrows.
“Thinking of leaving us again?” he inquired.
“Not just at present,” laughed Anthony. “By the way what’s upset
Isaacstein? He arrived in the car just as I left, and he looked as
though something had given him a nasty jolt.”
“Mr. Isaacstein?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t say, I’m sure. I fancy it would take a good deal to jolt him.”
“So do I,” agreed Anthony. “He’s quite one of the strong silent yellow
men of finance.”
Suddenly Battle leant forward and touched the chauffeur on the shoulder.
“Stop, will you? And wait for me here.”
He jumped out of the car, much to Anthony’s surprise. But in a minute
or two, the latter perceived M. Lemoine advancing to meet the English
detective, and gathered that it was a signal from him which had
attracted Battle’s attention.
There was a rapid colloquy between them, and then the superintendent
returned to the car and jumped in again, biding the chauffeur drive on.
His expression had completely changed.
“They’ve found the revolver,” he said suddenly and curtly.
“What?”
Anthony gazed at him in great surprise.
“Where?”
“In Isaacstein’s suit-case.”
“Oh, impossible!”
“Nothing’s impossible,” said Battle. “I ought to have remembered that.”
He sat perfectly still, tapping his knee with his hand.
“Who found it?”
Battle jerked his head over his shoulder.
“Lemoine. Clever chap. They think no end of him at the Sûreté.”
“But doesn’t this upset all your ideas?”
“No,” said Superintendent Battle very slowly. “I can’t say it does. It
was a bit of a surprise, I admit, at first. But it fits in very well
with one idea of mine.”
“Which is?”
But the superintendent branched off on to a totally different subject.
“I wonder if you’d mind finding Mr. Eversleigh for me, sir? There’s a
message for him from Mr. Lomax. He’s to go over to the Abbey at once.”
“All right,” said Anthony. The car had just drawn up at the great door.
“He’s probably in bed still.”
“I think not,” said the detective. “If you’ll look, you’ll see him
walking under the trees with Mrs. Revel.”
“Wonderful eyes you have, haven’t you, Battle?” said Anthony as he
departed on his errand.
He delivered the message to Bill, who was duly disgusted.
“Damn it all,” grumbled Bill to himself, as he strode off to the house,
“why can’t Codders sometimes leave me alone? And why can’t these
blasted Colonials stay in their Colonies? What do they want to come
over here for, and pick out all the best girls? I’m fed to the teeth
with everything.”
“Have you heard about the revolver?” asked Virginia breathlessly, as
Bill left them.
“Battle told me. Rather staggering, isn’t it? Isaacstein was in a
frightful state yesterday to get away, but I thought it was just
nerves. He’s about the one person I’d have pitched upon as being above
suspicion. Can you see any motive for his wanting Prince Michael out of
the way?”
“It certainly doesn’t fit in,” agreed Virginia thoughtfully.
“Nothing fits in anywhere,” said Anthony discontentedly. “I rather
fancied myself as an amateur detective to begin with, and so far all
I’ve done is to clear the character of the French governess at vast
trouble and some little expense.”
“Is that what you went to France for?” inquired Virginia.
“Yes, I went to Dinard and had an interview with the Comtesse de
Breteuil, awfully pleased with my own cleverness, and fully expecting
to be told that no such person as Mademoiselle Brun had ever been
heard of. Instead of which I was given to understand that the lady in
question had been the mainstay of the household for the last seven
years. So, unless the Comtesse is also a crook, that ingenious theory
of mine falls to the ground.”
Virginia shook her head.
“Madame de Breteuil is quite above suspicion. I know her quite well,
and I fancy I must have come across Mademoiselle at the chateau. I
certainly know her face quite well—in that vague way one does know
governesses and companions and people one sits opposite to in trains.
It’s awful, but I never really look at them properly. Do you?”
“Only if they’re exceptionally beautiful,” admitted Anthony.
“Well, in this case——” she broke off. “What’s the matter?”
Anthony was staring at a figure which detached itself from the clump of
trees and stood there rigidly at attention. It was the Herzoslovakian,
Boris.
“Excuse me,” said Anthony to Virginia, “I must just speak to my dog a
minute.”
He went across to where Boris was standing.
“What’s the matter? What do you want?”
“Master,” said Boris, bowing.
“Yes, that’s all very well, but you mustn’t keep following me about
like this. It looks odd.”
Without a word, Boris produced a soiled scrap of paper, evidently torn
from a letter, and handed it to Anthony.
“What’s this?” said Anthony.
There was an address scrawled on the paper, nothing else.
“He dropped it,” said Boris. “I bring it to the Master.”
“Who dropped it?”
“The foreign gentleman.”
“But why bring it to me?”
Boris looked at him reproachfully.
“Well, anyway, go away now,” said Anthony. “I’m busy.”
Boris saluted, turned sharply on his heel, and marched away. Anthony
rejoined Virginia, thrusting the piece of paper into his pocket.
“What did he want?” she asked curiously. “And why do you call him your
dog?”
“Because he acts like one,” said Anthony, answering the last question
first. “He must have been a retriever in his last incarnation, I think.
He’s just brought me a piece of a letter which he says the foreign
gentleman dropped. I suppose he means Lemoine.”
“I suppose so,” acquiesced Virginia.
“He’s always following me round,” continued Anthony. “Just like a dog.
Says next to nothing. Just looks at me with his big round eyes. I can’t
make him out.”
“Perhaps he meant Isaacstein,” suggested Virginia. “Isaacstein looks
foreign enough, Heaven knows.”
“Isaacstein,” muttered Anthony impatiently. “Where the devil does he
come in?”
“Are you ever sorry that you’ve mixed yourself up in all this?” asked
Virginia suddenly.
“Sorry? Good Lord, no. I love it. I’ve spent most of my life looking
for trouble, you know. Perhaps, this time, I’ve got a little more than
I bargained for.”
“But you’re well out of the wood now,” said Virginia, a little
surprised by the unusual gravity of his tone.
“Not quite.”
They strolled on for a minute or two in silence.
“There are some people,” said Anthony, breaking the silence, “who
don’t conform to the signals. An ordinary well-regulated locomotive
slows down or pulls up when it sees the red light hoisted against it.
Perhaps I was born colour blind. When I see the red signal—I can’t
help forging ahead. And in the end, you know, that spells disaster.
Bound to. And quite right really. That sort of thing is bad for traffic
generally.”
He still spoke very seriously.
“I suppose,” said Virginia, “that you have taken a good many risks in
your life?”
“Pretty nearly every one there is—except marriage.”
“That’s rather cynical.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. Marriage, the kind of marriage I mean, would be
the biggest adventure of the lot.”
“I like that,” said Virginia, flushing eagerly.
“There’s only one kind of woman I’d want to marry—the kind who is
worlds removed from my type of life. What would we do about it? Is she
to lead my life, or am I to lead hers?”
“If she loved you——”
“Sentimentality, Mrs. Revel. You know it is. Love isn’t a drug that
you take to blind you to your surroundings—you can make it that, yes,
but it’s a pity—love can be a lot more than that. What do you think
the King and his beggar maid thought of married life after they’d been
married a year or two? Didn’t she regret her rags and her bare feet
and her care-free life? You bet she did. Would it have been any good
renouncing his Crown for her sake? Not a bit of good, either. He’d have
made a damned bad beggar, I’m sure. And no woman respects a man when
he’s doing a thing thoroughly badly.”
“Have you fallen in love with a beggar maid, Mr. Cade?” inquired
Virginia softly.
“It’s the other way about with me, but the principle’s the same.”
“And there’s no way out?” asked Virginia.
“There’s always a way out,” said Anthony gloomily. “I’ve a theory that
one can always get anything one wants if one will pay the price. And
do you know what the price is, nine times out of ten? Compromise. A
beastly thing, compromise, but it steals upon you as you near middle
age. It’s stealing upon me now. To get the woman I want I’d—I’d even
take up regular work.”
Virginia laughed.
“I was brought up to a trade, you know,” continued Anthony.
“And you abandoned it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“A matter of principle.”
“Oh!”
“You’re a very unusual woman,” said Anthony suddenly, turning and
looking at her.
“Why?”
“You can refrain from asking questions.”
“You mean that I haven’t asked you what your trade was?”
“Just that.”
Again they walked on in silence. They were nearing the house now,
passing close by the scented sweetness of the rose garden.
“You understand well enough, I dare say,” said Anthony, breaking the
silence. “You know when a man’s in love with you. I don’t suppose you
care a hang for me—or for anyone else—but, by God, I’d like to make
you care.”
“Do you think you could?” asked Virginia, in a low voice.
“Probably not, but I’d have a damned good try.”
“Are you sorry you ever met me?” she said suddenly.
“Lord no. It’s the red signal again. When I first saw you—that day
in Pont Street, I knew I was up against something that was going to
hurt like fun. Your face did that to me—just your face. There’s magic
in you from head to foot—some women are like that, but I’ve never
known a woman who had so much of it as you have. You’ll marry some
one respectable and prosperous, I suppose, and I shall return to my
disreputable life, but I’ll kiss you once before I go—I swear I will.”
“You can’t do it now,” said Virginia softly. “Superintendent Battle is