The Secret of Chimneys
and stiff fashion. Little Captain Andrassy, equally correct as to
demeanour, but with a slightly hostile attitude, was also present.
The usual bows, clicking of heels, and other formal greetings of
etiquette took place. Anthony was, by now, thoroughly conversant with
the routine.
“You will forgive this early call I trust, Baron,” he said cheerfully,
laying down his hat and stick on the table. “As a matter of fact, I
have a little business proposition to make to you.”
“Ha! Is that so?” said the Baron.
Captain Andrassy, who had never overcome his initial distrust of
Anthony, looked suspicious.
“Business,” said Anthony, “is based on the well-known principle of
supply and demand. You want something, the other man has it. The only
thing left to settle is the price.”
The Baron looked at him attentively, but said nothing.
“Between a Herzoslovakian nobleman and an English gentleman the terms
should be easily arranged,” said Anthony rapidly.
He blushed a little as he said it. Such words do not rise easily to
an Englishman’s lips, but he had observed on previous occasions the
enormous effect of such phraseology upon the Baron’s mentality. True
enough, the charm worked.
“That is so,” said the Baron approvingly, nodding his head. “That is
entirely so.”
Even Captain Andrassy appeared to unbend a little, and nodded his head
also.
“Very good,” said Anthony. “I won’t beat about the bush any more——”
“What is that, you say?” interrupted the Baron. “To beat about the
bush? I do not comprehend?”
“A mere figure of speech, Baron. To speak in plain English, _you_ want
the goods, _we_ have them! The ship is all very well, but it lacks a
figurehead. By the ship, I mean the Loyalist party of Herzoslovakia.
At the present minute you lack the principal plank of your political
programme. You are minus a Prince! Now supposing—only supposing, that
I could supply you with a Prince?”
The Baron stared.
“I do not comprehend you in the least,” he declared.
“Sir,” said Captain Andrassy, twirling his moustache fiercely, “you are
insulting!”
“Not at all,” said Anthony. “I’m trying to be helpful. Supply and
demand, you understand. It’s all perfectly fair and square. No
Princes supplied unless genuine—see trademark. If we come to terms,
you’ll find it’s quite all right. I’m offering you the real genuine
article—out of the bottom drawer.”
“Not in the least,” the Baron declared again, “do I comprehend you.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” said Anthony kindly. “I just want you
to get used to the idea. To put it vulgarly, I’ve got something up
my sleeve. Just get hold of this. You want a Prince. Under certain
conditions, I will undertake to supply you with one.”
The Baron and Andrassy stared at him. Anthony took up his hat and stick
again and prepared to depart.
“Just think it over. Now, Baron, there is one thing further. You must
come down to Chimneys this evening—Captain Andrassy also. Several
very curious things are likely to happen there. Shall we make an
appointment? Say in the Council Chamber at nine o’clock? Thank you,
gentlemen, I may rely upon you to be there?”
The Baron took a step forward and looked searchingly in Anthony’s face.
“Mr. Cade,” he said, not without dignity, “it is not, I hope, that you
wish to make fun of me?”
Anthony returned his gaze steadily.
“Baron,” he said, and there was a curious note in his voice, “when this
evening is over, I think you will be the first to admit that there is
more earnest than jest about this business.”
Bowing to both the men, he left the room.
His next call was in the City where he sent in his card to Mr. Herman
Isaacstein.
After some delay, Anthony was received by a pale and exquisitely
dressed underling with an engaging manner, and a military title.
“You wanted to see Mr. Isaacstein, didn’t you?” said the young man.
“I’m afraid he’s most awfully busy this morning—board meetings and all
that sort of thing, you know. Is it anything that I can do?”
“I must see him personally,” said Anthony, and added carelessly. “I’ve
just come up from Chimneys.”
The young man was slightly staggered by the mention of Chimneys.
“Oh!” he said doubtfully. “Well, I’ll see.”
“Tell him it’s important,” said Anthony.
“Message from Lord Caterham?” suggested the young man.
“Something of the kind,” said Anthony, “but it’s imperative that I
should see Mr. Isaacstein at once.”
Two minutes later, Anthony was conducted into a sumptuous inner sanctum
where he was principally impressed by the immense size and roomy
depths of the leather-covered arm-chairs.
Mr. Isaacstein rose to greet him.
“You must forgive my looking you up like this,” said Anthony. “I know
that you’re a busy man, and I’m not going to waste more of your time
than I can help. It’s just a little matter of business that I want to
put before you.”
Isaacstein looked at him attentively for a minute or two out of his
beady black eyes.
“Have a cigar,” he said unexpectedly, holding out an open box.
“Thank you,” said Anthony. “I don’t mind if I do.”
He helped himself.
“It’s about this Herzoslovakian business,” continued Anthony, as he
accepted a match. He noted the momentary flickering of the other’s
steady gaze. “The murder of Prince Michael must have rather upset the
applecart.”
Mr. Isaacstein raised one eyebrow, murmured “Ah?” interrogatively and
transferred his gaze to the ceiling.
“Oil,” said Anthony, thoughtfully surveying the polished surface of the
desk. “Wonderful thing, oil.”
He felt the slight start the financier gave.
“Do you mind coming to the point, Mr. Cade?”
“Not at all. I imagine, Mr. Isaacstein, that if those Oil concessions
are granted to another company you won’t be exactly pleased about it?”
“What’s the proposition?” asked the other, looking straight at him.
“A suitable claimant to the throne, full of pro-British sympathies.”
“Where have you got him?”
“That’s my business.”
Isaacstein acknowledged the retort by a slight smile, his glance had
grown hard and keen.
“The genuine article? I can’t stand for any funny business.”
“The absolute genuine article.”
“Straight?”
“Straight.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“You don’t seem to take much convincing?” said Anthony, looking
curiously at him.
Herman Isaacstein smiled.
“I shouldn’t be where I am now if I hadn’t learnt to know whether a man
is speaking the truth or not,” he replied simply. “What terms do you
want?”
“The same loan, on the same conditions, that you offered to Prince
Michael?”
“What about yourself?”
“For the moment, nothing, except that I want you to come down to
Chimneys to-night.”
“No,” said Isaacstein, with some decision. “I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Dining out—rather an important dinner.”
“All the same, I’m afraid you’ll have to cut it out—for your own sake.”
“What do you mean?”
Anthony looked at him for a full minute before he said slowly:
“Do you know that they’ve found the revolver, the one Michael was shot
with? Do you know where they found it? In your suit-case.”
“What?”
Isaacstein almost leapt from his chair. His face was frenzied.
“What are you saying? What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you.”
Very obligingly, Anthony narrated the occurrences in connection with
the finding of the revolver. As he spoke the other’s face assumed a
greyish tinge of absolute terror.
“But it’s false,” he screamed out, as Anthony finished. “I never put it
there. I know nothing about it. It is a plot.”
“Don’t excite yourself,” said Anthony soothingly. “If that’s the case
you’ll easily be able to prove it.”
“Prove it? How can I prove it?”
“If I were you,” said Anthony gently, “I’d come to Chimneys to-night.”
Isaacstein looked at him doubtfully.
“You advise it?”
Anthony leant forward and whispered to him. The financier fell back in
amazement, staring at him.
“You actually mean——”
“Come and see,” said Anthony.
27
The 13th of October (contd.)
The clock in the Council Chamber struck nine.
“Well,” said Lord Caterham, with a deep sigh. “Here they all are, just
like little Bo Peep’s flock, back again and wagging their tails behind
them.”
He looked sadly round the room.
“Organ grinder complete with monkey,” he murmured, fixing the Baron
with his eye. “Nosy Parker of Throgmorton Street——”
“I think you’re rather unkind to the Baron,” protested Bundle, to whom
these confidences were being poured out. “He told me that he considered
you the perfect example of English hospitality amongst the _haute
noblesse_.”
“I daresay,” said Lord Caterham. “He’s always saying things like that.
It makes him most fatiguing to talk to. But I can tell you I’m not
nearly as much of the hospitable English gentleman as I was. As soon
as I can, I shall let Chimneys to an enterprising American, and go and
live in an hotel. There, if anyone worries you, you can just ask for
your bill and go.”
“Cheer up,” said Bundle. “We seem to have lost Mr. Fish for good.”
“I always found him rather amusing,” said Lord Caterham, who was in a
contradictory temper. “It’s that precious young man of yours who has
let me in for this. Why should I have this Board meeting called in my
house? Why doesn’t he rent The Larches or Elmhurst, or some nice villa
residence like that at Streatham, and hold his company meetings there?”
“Wrong atmosphere,” said Bundle.
“No one is going to play any tricks on us, I hope?” said her father
nervously. “I don’t trust that French fellow, Lemoine. The French
police are up to all sorts of dodges. Put India-rubber bands round
your arm, and then reconstruct the crime and make you jump, and it’s
registered on a thermometer. I know that when they call out ‘Who
killed Prince Michael?’ I shall register a hundred and twenty-two, or
something perfectly frightful, and they’ll haul me off to gaol at once.”
The door opened and Tredwell announced:
“Mr. George Lomax. Mr. Eversleigh.”
“Enter Codders, followed by faithful dog,” murmured Bundle.
Bill made a bee-line for her, whilst George greeted Lord Caterham in
the genial manner he assumed for public occasions.
“My dear Caterham,” said George, shaking him by the hand, “I got your
message, and came over, of course.”
“Very good of you, my dear fellow, very good of you. Delighted to see
you.” Lord Caterham’s conscience always drove him on to an excess of
geniality when he was conscious of feeling none. “Not that it was my
message, but that doesn’t matter at all.”
In the meantime, Bill was attacking Bundle in an undertone.
“I say. What’s it all about? What’s this I hear about Virginia bolting
off in the middle of the night? She’s not been kidnapped, has she?”
“Oh, no,” said Bundle. “She left a note pinned to the pincushion in the
orthodox fashion.”
“She’s not gone off with anyone, has she? Not with that Colonial
Johnny? I never liked the fellow and, from all I hear, there seems to
be an idea floating around that he himself is the super crook. But I
don’t quite see how that can be?”
“Why not?”
“Well, this King Victor was a French fellow, and Cade’s English enough.”
“You don’t happen to have heard that King Victor was an accomplished
linguist, and, moreover, was half Irish?”
“Oh, Lord! Then that’s why he’s made himself scarce, is it?”
“I don’t know about his making himself scarce. He disappeared the day
before yesterday, as you know. But this morning we got a wire from him,
saying he would be down here at 9 P.M. to-night, and suggesting that
Codders should be asked over. All these other people have turned up as
well—asked by Mr. Cade.”
“It is a gathering,” said Bill, looking round. “One French detective
by window, one English ditto by fireplace. Strong foreign element. The
Stars and Stripes don’t seem to be represented?”