The Seven Dials mystery
some excellent shots this morning--really quite as good as I could do
myself."
Lord Caterham took another careless swing and removed an immense chunk
of turf. MacDonald, who was passing, retrieved it and stamped it firmly
back. The look he gave Lord Caterham would have caused anyone but an
ardent golfer to sink through the earth.
"If MacDonald has been guilty of cruelty to Cootes, which I strongly
suspect," said Bundle, "he's being punished now."
"Why shouldn't I do as I like in my own garden?" demanded her father.
"MacDonald ought to be interested in the way my game is coming on--the
Scotch are a great golfing nation."
"You poor old man," said Bundle. "You'll never be a golfer--but at any
rate it keeps you out of mischief."
"Not at all," said Lord Caterham. "I did the long sixth in five the
other day. The pro was very surprised when I told him about it."
"He would be," said Bundle.
"Talking of Cootes, Sir Oswald plays a fair game--a very fair game. Not
a pretty style--too stiff. But straight down the middle every time.
But curious how the cloven hoof shows--won't give you a six-inch putt!
Makes you put it in every time. Now I don't like that."
"I suppose he's a man who likes to be sure," said Bundle.
"It's contrary to the spirit of the game," said her father. "And he's
not interested in the theory of the thing either. Says he just plays
for exercise and doesn't bother about style. Now, that secretary chap,
Bateman, is quite different. It's the theory interests him. I was
slicing badly with my spoon; and he said it all came from too much
right arm; and he evolved a very interesting theory. It's all left arm
in golf--the left arm is the arm that counts. He says he plays tennis
left handed but golf with ordinary clubs because there his superiority
with the left arm tells."
"And did he play very marvellously?" inquired Bundle.
"No, he didn't," confessed Lord Caterham. "But then he may have been
off his game. I see the theory all right and I think there's a lot in
it. Ah! Did you see that one, Bundle? Right over the rhododendrons. A
perfect shot. Ah! If one could be sure of doing that every time--Yes,
Tredwell, what is it?"
Tredwell addressed Bundle.
"Mr. Thesiger would like to speak to you on the telephone, my lady."
Bundle set off at full speed for the house, yelling "Loraine, Loraine,"
as she did so. Loraine joined her just as she was lifting the receiver.
"Hallo, is that you, Jimmy?"
"Hallo. How are you?"
"Very fit, but a bit bored."
"How's Loraine?"
"She's all right. She's here. Do you want to speak to her?"
"In a minute. I've got a lot to say. To begin with, I'm going down to
the Cootes' for the week-end," he said significantly. "Now, look here,
Bundle, you don't know how one gets hold of skeleton keys, do you?"
"Haven't the foggiest. Is it really necessary to take skeleton keys to
the Cootes'?"
"Well, I had a sort of idea they'd come in handy. You don't know the
sort of shop one gets them at?"
"What you want is a kindly burglar friend to show you the ropes."
"I do, Bundle, I do. And unfortunately, I haven't got one. I thought
perhaps your bright brain might grapple successfully with the problem.
But I suppose I shall have to fall back upon Stevens as usual. He'll be
getting some funny ideas in his head soon about me--first a blue-nosed
automatic--and now skeleton keys. He'll think I've joined the criminal
classes."
"Jimmy?" said Bundle.
"Yes?"
"Look here--be careful, won't you? I mean if Sir Oswald finds you
nosing around with skeleton keys--well, I should think he could be very
unpleasant when he likes."
"Young man of pleasing appearance in the dock! All right, I'll be
careful. Pongo's the fellow I'm really frightened of. He sneaks around
so on those flat feet of his. You never hear him coming. And he always
did have a genius for poking his nose in where he wasn't wanted. But
trust to the boy hero."
"Well, I wish Loraine and I were going to be there to look after you."
"Thank you, nurse. As a matter of fact, though, I have a scheme--"
"Yes?"
"Do you think you and Loraine might have a convenient car breakdown
near Letherbury to-morrow morning? It's not so very far from you, is
it?"
"Forty miles. That's nothing."
"I thought it wouldn't be--to you! Don't kill Loraine though. I'm
rather fond of Loraine. All right, then--somewhere round about quarter
to half-past twelve."
"So that they invite us to lunch?"
"That's the idea. I say, Bundle, I ran into that girl Socks yesterday
and what do you think--Terence O'Rourke is going to be down there this
week-end!"
"Jimmy, do you think he--"
"Well--suspect everyone, you know. That's what they say. He's a wild
lad, and daring as they make them. I wouldn't put it past him to run a
secret society. He and the Countess might be in this together. He was
out in Hungary last year."
"But he could pinch the formula any time."
"That's just what he couldn't. He'd have to do it under circumstances
where he couldn't be suspected. But the retreat up the ivy and into his
own bed--well, that would be rather neat. Now for instructions. After
a few polite nothings to Lady Coote, you and Loraine are to get hold
of Pongo and O'Rourke by hook or by crook and keep them occupied till
lunch time. See? It oughtn't to be difficult for a couple of beautiful
girls like you."
"You're using the best butter, I see."
"A plain statement of fact."
"Well, at any rate, your instructions are duly noted. Do you want to
talk to Loraine now?"
Bundle passed over the receiver and tactfully left the room.
CHAPTER XXVII
NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
Jimmy Thesiger arrived at Letherbury on a sunny autumn afternoon and
was greeted affectionately by Lady Coote and with cold dislike by Sir
Oswald. Aware of the keen match-making eye of Lady Coote upon him,
Jimmy took pains to make himself extremely agreeable to Socks Daventry.
O'Rourke was there in excellent spirits. He was inclined to be
official and secretive about the mysterious events at the Abbey, about
which Socks catechized him freely, but his official reticence took a
novel form--namely that of embroidering the tale of events in such a
fantastic manner that nobody could possibly guess what the truth might
have been.
"Four masked men with revolvers? Is that really so?" demanded Socks
severely.
"Ah! I'm remembering now that there was the round half dozen of them to
hold me down and force the stuff down my throat. Sure, and I thought it
was poison, and I done for entirely."
"And what was stolen, or what did they try and steal?"
"What else but the crown jewels of Russia that were brought to Mr.
Lomax secretly to deposit in the Bank of England."
"What a bloody liar you are," said Socks without emotion.
"A liar? I? And the jewels brought over by aeroplane with my best
friend as pilot. This is secret history I'm telling you, Socks. Will
you ask Jimmy Thesiger there if you don't believe me. Not that I'd be
putting any trust in what he'd say."
"Is it true," said Socks, "that George Lomax came down without his
false teeth? That's what I want to know."
"There were two revolvers," said Lady Coote. "Nasty things. I saw them
myself. It's a wonder this poor boy wasn't killed."
"Oh, I was born to be hanged," said Jimmy.
"I hear that there was a Russian countess there of subtle beauty," said
Socks. "And that she vamped Bill."
"Some of the things she said about Buda Pesth were too dreadful,"
said Lady Coote. "I shall never forget them. Oswald, we must send a
subscription."
Sir Oswald grunted.
"I'll make a note of it, Lady Coote," said Rupert Bateman.
"Thank you, Mr. Bateman. I feel one ought to do something as a thank
offering. I can't imagine how Sir Oswald escaped being shot--letting
alone die of pneumonia."
"Don't be foolish, Maria," said Sir Oswald.
"I've always had a horror of cat burglars," said Lady Coote.
"Think of having the luck to meet one face to face. How thrilling!"
murmured Socks.
"Don't you believe it," said Jimmy. "It's damned painful." And he
patted his right arm gingerly.
"How is the poor arm?" inquired Lady Coote.
"Oh, pretty well all right now. But it's been the most confounded
nuisance having to do everything with the left hand. I'm no good
whatever with it."
"Every child should be brought up to be ambidextrous," said Sir Oswald.
"Oh!" said Socks, somewhat out of her depth. "Is that like seals?"
"Not amphibious," said Mr. Bateman. "Ambidextrous means using either
hand equally well."
"Oh!" said Socks, looking at Sir Oswald with respect. "Can you?"
"Certainly; I can write with either hand."
"But not with both at once?"
"That would not be practical," said Sir Oswald shortly.
"No," said Socks thoughtfully. "I suppose that would be a bit too
subtle."
"It would be a grand thing now in a Government department," observed
Mr. O'Rourke, "if one could keep the right hand from knowing what the
left hand was doing."
"Can you use both hands?"
"No, indeed. I'm the most right-handed person that ever was."
"But you deal cards with your left hand," said the observant Bateman.
"I noticed the other night."
"Oh, but that's different entirely," said Mr. O'Rourke easily.
A gong with a sombre note pealed out and everyone went upstairs to
dress for dinner.
After dinner Sir Oswald and Lady Coote, Mr. Bateman and Mr. O'Rourke
played bridge and Jimmy passed a flirtatious evening with Socks. The
last words Jimmy heard as he retreated up the staircase that night were
Sir Oswald saying to his wife:
"You'll never make a bridge player, Maria."
And her reply:
"I know, dear. So you always say. You owe Mr. O'Rourke another pound,
Oswald. That's right."
It was some two hours later that Jimmy crept noiselessly (or so he
hoped) down the stairs. He made one brief visit to the dining-room
and then found his way to Sir Oswald's study. There, after listening
intently for a minute or two, he set to work. Most of the drawers
of the desk were locked, but a curiously shaped bit of wire in
Jimmy's hand soon saw to that. One by one the drawers yielded to his
manipulations.
Drawer by drawer he sorted through methodically, being careful to
replace everything in the same order. Once or twice he stopped
to listen, fancying he heard some distant sound. But he remained
undisturbed.
The last drawer was looked through. Jimmy now knew--or could have
known had he been paying attention--many interesting details relating
to steel; but he had found nothing of what he wanted--a reference to
Herr Eberhard's invention or anything that could give him a clue to
the identity of the mysterious No. 7. He had, perhaps, hardly hoped
that he would. It was an off-chance and he had taken it--but he had not
expected much result--except by sheer luck.
He tested the drawers to make sure that he had relocked them securely.
He knew Rupert Bateman's powers of minute observation and glanced round
the room to make sure that he had left no incriminating trace of his
presence.
"That's that," he muttered to himself softly. "Nothing there. Well,
perhaps I'll have better luck to-morrow morning--if the girls only play
up."
He came out of the study, closing the door behind him and locking it.
For a moment he thought he heard a sound quite near him, but decided he
had been mistaken. He felt his way noiselessly along the great hall.
Just enough light came from the high vaulted windows to enable him to
pick his way without stumbling into anything.
Again he heard a soft sound--he heard it quite certainly this time and
without the possibility of making a mistake. He was not alone in the
hall. Somebody else was there, moving as stealthily as he was. His