Kitobni o'qish: «Malcolm Sage, Detective», sahifa 14

II

Later that night, just as Big Ben was taking breath preparatory tohis supreme effort, Malcolm Sage was seated in his big arm-chairsmoking a final pipe before bed, and turning over in his mind thehappenings of the day and the probable events of the morrow.

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a hammering at theouter door of his chambers, followed by the sound of loud andhilarious voices as Rogers answered the summons.

A moment later the door of the sitting-room burst open, and thereflowed into the room Charley Burns and his entourage, all obviouslyin the best of spirits. In the background stood Rogers, withexpressionless face, looking towards his master.

Malcolm Sage rose and shook hands with Burns, Mr. Doulton and Mr.

Papwith, Alf Pond and his assistants.

"Sorry, Mr. Sage," cried Burns, with a laugh; "but the boys wouldn'twait, although I told them calling time was four till six," and helaughed again, the laugh of a man who has not a care in the world.He also gripped Malcolm Sage's hand with a heartiness that made himwince. The others in turn shook hands in a way that caused MalcolmSage to wonder why America had not long since ceased to be aRepublic.

The men dropped into chairs in various parts of the room, and Rogers, who had disappeared at a signal from Malcolm Sage, now returned witha tray of glasses, syphons, and decanters. Soon the whole companywas drinking the health of Malcolm Sage with an earnestness whichconvinced him that on the morrow there would be trouble with ColonelSappinger, who lived above and cherished Carlyle's hatred of sound.

"And now, Mr. Sage," said Alf Pond, "we want to know how you foundCharley. He won't tell us anythink. Wonderful, I call it," he added, and there was a murmur of assent from the others, as they proceededto light the cigars that Rogers handed round.

"It was not very difficult," said Malcolm Sage, stuffing tobaccointo his pipe from a terra-cotta jar beside him. As he applied alight to the bowl the others exchanged glances.

"From the first," he continued, "it was obvious that some message,or letter, had been conveyed to our friend Burns." He gazed acrossat the champion, who looked uncomfortable.

"As he had not mentioned the fact to any of his friends," continuedMalcolm Sage, a little slyly, "it seemed obvious to assume thatthere was a lady in the case."

Alf Pond looked reproachfully at Burns, who reddened beneath theunited gaze of seven pairs of eyes.

"That the appointment had been for the evening," proceeded MalcolmSage, "was obvious from the fact that Burns disappeared in the bluesuit he always changed into after the day's work."

Alf Pond looked across at Mr. Doulton, nodding his approval of thereasoning.

"It was Kitty, or I thought it was," burst out Burns. "She saidsomething terrible had happened and that she must see me," he added.

Kitty Graham was shortly to become Mrs. Charley Burns, but duringthe period of training she had been rigorously excluded from allintercourse with her fiancé by order of the autocratic Alf Pond.

"The meeting was arranged for the further side of the large clump ofrhododendrons, which acted as a screen," continued Malcolm Sage."When Burns arrived there, he saw a girl standing a little distanceaway. Before he could reach her, however, he was seized and achloroformed pad held over his mouth. The suddenness of the attackdazed him; he did not struggle, but held his breath; he – "

"How the blazes did you know that, Mr. Sage?" burst out Burns.

"You are always a quick-thinker in the ring," said Malcolm Sage,"and you were a quick-thinker then. You smelt chloroform, held yourbreath and thought. It was a sort of instinctive ring-craft."

"But you – " began Burns.

"There were no marks of a struggle where you were seized. Youprobably realised that your only chance lay in letting the enemythink you were losing consciousness?"

Burns nodded.

"Seeing that there was no sign of trouble," continued Malcolm Sage,"the principal in this little affair stepped out from where he hadbeen taking cover just at the moment when Burns broke loose and letout. Movement has always a primary attraction for the eye, and Burnsgot this man full on the nose and ruined it. He also sent him cleaninto the privet-hedge, where he collapsed."

"Who was it?" demanded Alf Pond fiercely.

"There were, however, too many of them for Burns," continued MalcolmSage, ignoring the question. "They had planned the attack verycarefully, each clinging to a limb. Soon they had him unconsciousand bound in the car. Then they turned their attention to theirleader."

"Yes; but how did you find Burns?" asked Mr. Doulton eagerly.

"I didn't," said Malcolm Sage. "They showed me where he was."

"But – " began Mr. Papwith, whose shiny cleanshaven face, normallysuggestive of a Turner sunset, now looked like a conflagration.

"After half an hour's fruitless effort to track the car downside-roads, I returned to London as fast as my man could take me,"proceeded Malcolm Sage, "and I immediately set enquiries on foot asto the betting on the Stock Exchange, at Tattersall's, the NationalSporting Club, and other places. By three o'clock that afternoon Iknew pretty well who it was that had been laying heavily againstBurns. That simplified matters."

Alf Pond and Burns exchanged admiring glances.

"As you know, for more than a week previously the betting had madeit clear that heavy sums were being laid on Jefferson. In the courseof ten days it had veered round from 5 to 4 on Burns to 9 to 2against. As there were no rumours detrimental to his condition orstate of health, this could only mean that a lot of money was beingput on Jefferson. I found out the names of the principal layers andthe amounts. I discovered that all were extremely active with theexception of one. That I decided was the man with the umbrella."

"Who's he?" demanded Sandy, whose mouth had not ceased to gape since

Malcolm Sage began his story.

"The man Burns knocked out. He had been leaning rather heavily onthe handle whilst taking cover behind a holly-bush, and the metalcap at base of the silk was clearly marked on the ground. He wasalso holding an unlit cigar in his hand, which he left in the hedge.By great good chance this was recognised by someone I happen to knowas a brand smoked by a certain backer of Jefferson."

"Well, I'm damned!" broke in Alf Pond, with intense earnestness.

"So you see, I had quite a lot to help me. I was searching for awell-dressed man – "

"But how did you know he was well-dressed?" queried Mr. Doulton.

"His footprints showed that he wore boots of a fashionable model,"explained Malcolm Sage. "He also carried an umbrella, even on anoccasion such as this.

"I had to look for a well-dressed man who always carried an umbrella, and who smoked large and expensive cigars and, most important of all, whose nose had been smashed out of all recognition."

"But how could you tell I got him on the nose?" demanded Burns, leaning forward eagerly.

"There was quite a pool of blood beneath the hedge," explainedMalcolm Sage. "He was probably there for some minutes while hisfriends were making sure of you, Burns. Blood would not have flowedso generously as a result of a blow from the fist except from thenose."

"You're a knock-out, that's what you are, Mr. Sage," said Alf Pond, with admiring conviction. "I'd never have thought of it all," headded, with the air of one desiring to be absolutely fair.

"Finally," continued Malcolm Sage, "there was the car. It was alarge car, a defect in one of the tyres enabled me to determinethat by a steel rule. It was obviously heavily laden and the nearback-wheel was out of track. This fact, of course, was of no help onthe high-road, where other cars would blot out the track; but if Icould show that someone who had been heavily backing Jefferson hada nose badly damaged, and a car with a near back-wheel out of trackin just the same way that this particular wheel was out of track, and that its tyres were the same as those of the car that drew upoutside Burns's training-quarters, then I should have a wealth ofcircumstantial evidence that it would be almost impossible toconfute.

"From a friend at Scotland Yard I obtained the number of the carbelonging to the man whom this evidence involved.

"As Stainton is off the Portsmouth Road, I telephoned to theAutomobile Association patrols at Putney Hill, Esher, and ClandonCross Roads. I was told that on the previous evening thisparticular car was seen going in the direction of Guildford. Thesepatrols take the numbers of all cars that pass. As it had not passedLiss, where the next patrol is stationed, it was another link in thechain."

"Well, I'm blowed!" The exclamation broke involuntarily from Kid.

"As the patrols go off duty at dusk, I could get no further helpfrom them," continued Malcolm Sage. "I sent a man to watchJefferson's training-quarters, although I was fairly certain that heand his party were in no way involved."

Malcolm Sage went on to narrate his call upon Nathan Goldschmidt, carefully omitting any mention of the name or address. His hearerslistened with breathless interest.

"I concluded that they had taken their prisoner to some lonely, empty house," he explained, "but there was not time to search allthe empty houses in the home counties, so the man with the damagednose had to come with me in my car, and his friends followed inhis."

"But how did you manage it?" gasped Mr. Papwith.

"At first they showed fight," said Malcolm Sage, "and threatened tokeep me prisoner until after the fight."

"Gee!" exclaimed Kid.

"I anticipated some such move, and had instructed my people thatunless I were back by half-past four, they were to deliver certainpackets to the editors of well-known London papers. In these packetswas told the story as far as I had been able to trace it. This Iinformed them."

"What did they say to that?" asked Mr. Doulton.

"They insisted that I telephone countermanding my orders; but as Iexplained that I had told my man Thompson he was to disregard anytelephone message, or written instructions, he might receive from me, they realised that the game was up. I also informed them thatInspector Wensdale and two of his men were waiting at my office inanticipation of a possible hold-up."

"Well, I'm blessed," exclaimed Alf Pond. "If you ain't it."

"I pointed out," continued Malcolm Sage, "that whereas by producingBurns they would have a fight for their money, if the truth becameknown not only would their bets most likely be forfeited, but theywould probably have to go to law to recover their stake-money. Ifurther pledged Mr. Doulton, Mr. Papwith, and Burns not to take anylegal action. I rather suspect that in this I was technicallyconspiring to defeat the ends of justice."

"But weren't you afraid they'd do a double cross?" asked Burns.

"They heard me instruct one of my assistants that unless I were backby nine o'clock that evening, the notes I had written and addressedwere to be delivered. Incidentally the inspector was present, unofficially of course."

"You oughter been in the ring with a head like that," said Alf Pondsorrowfully.

"We found Burns fairly comfortable in the wine-cellar of an emptyhouse near Ripley. They had left him food and water and beer. In allprobability on awakening to-morrow morning, had we not found him, hewould have discovered the door unlocked and himself no longer aprisoner." Malcolm Sage paused with the air of one who has told hisstory.

"But why did you keep Papwith and me at Stainton until late thisafternoon?" enquired Mr. Doulton.

"In the first instance, to be in charge and to see that Burns'sdisappearance was kept secret. It was obvious that every endeavourwould be made to put a lot of money on Jefferson before the factbecame known. This would lead to rumour, and later to enquiry.Subsequently I decided that you were both better out of London, asyou would have been interviewed and bound to give something away, inspite of the utmost caution."

"And now, Mr. Sage," said Mr. Doulton, "who are the scroundrels?"

"I have promised not to give their names," was the quiet reply.

"Not give their names?" cried several of his hearers in unison.

Malcolm Sage then proceeded to explain that unless the gang had seena loop-hole of escape they would not have thrown up the sponge. Hadexposure been inevitable in any case, they would have brazened itout, knowing that, whatever happened to themselves, Burns could notappear at the Olympia. The knowledge that their identity would notbe divulged tempted them to risk the loss of their money. "Apart fromthis," he added, "the details I was able to give seemed to convincethem that they had either been watched or given away."

"You must remember that they have lost enormous sums of money,"Malcolm Sage went on, "and there will be another 1,000 pounds for St.Timothy's Hospital. It was further understood that, if I coulddiscover anyone of them had inspired a covering bet, I was releasedfrom my promise. This is why the odds got to six to one.Incidentally they ensured the defeat of their man. When Burnsentered the ring tonight, it was to fight, not to box."

"That's true," said Alf Pond, nodding his head and reaching foranother cigar. "He never fought like it before in all his puff."

"And where were you last night?" enquired Mr. Papwith of Burns.

"In my bed," said Malcolm Sage, "and my friend Inspector Wensdale of

Scotland Yard and I slept here. Burns has never been out of

Wensdale's sight until we handed him over this evening."

"I've been having police protection," laughed Burns.

"Still, you didn't oughter have gone two days without doinganythink," said Alf Pond.

"Oh! I had a bit of sparring with Mr. Sage," said Burns, "in spiteof the glasses. If you want to see some pretty foot-work, Alf, youget him to put the gloves on."

"I knew it," cried Alf Pond, with conviction; then, turning to theothers, "Didn't I say he oughter been in the ring?"

And Malcolm Sage found relief from the admiring eyes of his guestsin gazing down at the well-bitten mouthpiece of his briar.

"But why did you let me think that Jefferson and his crowd were init?" enquired Burns, with corrugated brow.

"Well," said Malcolm Sage slowly, "as I had put twenty-five poundson you to steady Pond's nerves, I didn't want to lose it."

And Alf Pond winked gleefully across at Mr. Doulton.

CHAPTER XVII LADY DENE CALLS ON MALCOLM SAGE

"Lady Dene wishes to see you, Miss."

"Sure the Archbishop of Canterbury isn't with her, Johnnie dear?"asked Gladys Norman sweetly, without looking up from the cleaningof her typewriter. In her own mind she was satisfied that this wasa little joke inspired by Thompson.

"No, Miss, she's alone," replied the literal William Johnson.

"Show her Ladyship in," she said, still playing for safety. "Da – sh!" she muttered as, having inadvertently touched the release, thecarriage slid to the left, pinching her finger in its course.

William Johnson departed, his head half turned over his rightshoulder in admiration of one who could hear with such unconcernthat a real lady had called to see her.

As her door opened for a second time, Gladys Norman assiduously kepther eyes fixed upon her machine.

"No, Johnnie," she remarked, still without looking up. "It's no good.Lady Denes don't call upon typists at 9.30 a.m., so buzz off, littlebeanlet. I'm – "

"But this Lady Dene does."

Gladys Norman jumped to her feet, knocking over the benzine bottleand dropping her brush into the vitals of the machine.

Before her stood a fair-haired girl, her violet eyes brimming withmischievous laughter, whilst in her arms she carried a mass of redroses.

"I'm so sorry," faltered Gladys Norman, biting her lower lip, andconscious of her heightened colour and the violet-stained glovesthat had once been white. "I thought Johnnie was playing a joke."

Lady Dene nodded brightly, whilst Gladys Norman stooped to pick upthe benzine bottle, then with a motion of her head indicated toWilliam Johnson that his presence was no longer required.Reluctantly the lad turned, and a moment later the door closedslowly behind him.

"I want you to help me," said Lady Dene, dropping the roses on tothe leaf of Gladys Norman's typing-table. "These are for Mr. Sage."

"For the Chief?" cried Gladys Norman in astonishment. Then shelaughed. The idea of a riot of red roses in Malcolm Sage's roomstruck her as funny.

"You see," said Lady Dene, "this is the birthday of the Malcolm Sage

Bureau, and I'm going to decorate his room."

"I don't – " began Gladys Norman hesitatingly, when Lady Deneinterrupted her.

"It's all right," she cried, "I'll take all the responsibility."

"But we've got no vases," objected Gladys Norman.

"My chauffeur has some in the car, and there are heaps more roses,"she added.

"More?" cried Gladys Norman aghast.

"Heaps," repeated Lady Dene, dimpling with laughter at theconsternation on Gladys Norman's face. "Ah! here they are," as thedoor opened and a mass of white roses appeared, with a florid facepeering over the top.

"Put them down there, Smithson," said Lady Dene, indicating a spotin front of Gladys Norman's table. "Now fetch the vases and the restof the roses."

"The rest!" exclaimed Gladys Norman.

Lady Dene laughed. She was thoroughly enjoying the girl'sbewilderment.

"He's not come yet?" she interrogated.

The girl shook her head.

"He won't be here for half-an-hour yet," she said. "He had to godown into the city."

"That will just give us time," cried Lady Dene, stooping and pickingup an armful of the white roses. "You bring the red ones," she criedover her shoulder, as she passed through Malcolm Sage's door, justas Smithson entered with several purple vases.

Picking up the red roses, Gladys Norman followed the others intoMalcolm Sage's room. Her feelings were those of someone constrainedto commit sacrilege against her will.

"Now get some water, Smithson."

"Water, my Lady?" repeated Smithson, looking about him vaguely, as

Moses might have done in the wilderness.

"Yes; ask the lad. Be quick," cried Lady Dene, with deft fingersbeginning to arrange the roses in the vases. "Oh! please help me,"she cried, turning to Gladys Norman, who had stood watching her asif fascinated.

"But – " she began, when Lady Dene interrupted her.

"Quick!" cried Lady Dene excitedly, "or he'll be here before we'vefinished."

Then, convinced that it was the work of Kismet, or the devil, Gladys

Norman threw herself into the task of arranging the flowers.

When Thompson arrived some ten minutes later, he stood at the doorof Malcolm Sage's room "listening with his mouth," as Gladys Normanhad expressed it. When he had regained the power of speech, heuttered two words.

"Jumping Je-hosh-o-phat!"; but into them he precipitated all theemotion of his being.

"Go away, Tommy, we're busy," cried Gladys Norman over her shoulder."Do you hear; go away," she repeated, stamping her foot angrily ashe made no movement to obey, and Thompson slid away and closed thedoor, convinced that in the course of the next half-hour there wouldbe the very deuce to pay.

He knew the Chief better than Gladys, he told himself, and if therewere one thing calculated to bring out all the sternness in hisnature it was flippancy, and what could be more flippant thandecorating the room of a great detective with huge bowls and vasesof red and white roses.

Regardless of Thompson's forebodings, Lady Dene smiled to herself asshe put the finishing touches to the last vase, whilst Gladys Normangathered up the litter of leaves and stalks that lay on the floor, throwing them into the fireplace. She then removed the last spots ofwater from Malcolm Sage's table.

Lady Dene took from her bag a small leather-case, which she openedand placed in the centre of the table opposite Malcolm Sage's chair.It was a platinum ring of antique workmanship, with a carbuchon oflapis lazuli.

"Oh, how lovely!" cried Gladys Norman, as she gazed at the ring'sexquisite workmanship.

Presently, the two girls stepped back to gaze at their handiwork. Ina few minutes they had transformed an austere, business-man's roominto what looked like a miniature rose-show. From every point redand white roses seemed to nod their fragrant heads.

"I – " began Gladys Norman, then she stopped suddenly, arrested bya slight sound behind her. She span round on her heel. Malcolm Sagestood in the doorway, with Thompson and William Johnson a few feetbehind him.

Slowly and deliberately he looked round the room; then his eyesrested on Lady Dene.

"How do you do, Lady Dene," he said quietly, extending his hand.

For a moment she was conscious of an unaccustomed sensation of fear.

"You're not cross?" she interrogated, looking up at him quizzically, her head a little on one side. "You see, it's the Bureau's birthday, and – " She stopped suddenly.

Malcolm Sage had dropped her hand and walked over to his table.

Picking up the ring he examined it intently, then turned to Lady

Dene, interrogation in his eyes.

"It's from my husband and me," she said simply. "You have suchlovely hands, and – and we should like you to wear it."

Without a word he removed the ring from the case and put it on thethird finger of his right hand, which he then extended to Lady Dene, who took it with a little laugh of happiness.

"You're not really cross," she said, looking up at him a littleanxiously.

"To me they stand for so much, Lady Dene," he said gravely, "that Iam not even speculating as to their probable effect upon the faithof my clients."

And Malcolm Sage smiled.

It was that smile Gladys Norman saw as she closed the door behindher, and which Thompson resolutely refused to believe.