Elk 03 The Twister, page 14
Nobody knew but he that he had already operated outside the pool, had broken faith with his partners even before the partnership was an accomplished fact. Julian was no man to be content with a few tens of thousands; his eyes were fixed on the million mark, and he would not be satisfied until he had reached that goal.
From time to time, they walked back to the buzzing instrument and watched curiously the little heap of white crystalline powder beneath which lay the genesis of an incomparable fortune. One of the watchers, standing by the window overlooking the river, remarked upon the ease with which a murder might be committed and the victim disposed of. Even the guest himself saw the grim possibility in his remark. He opened the window which looked out on the river. The rain was pelting down steadily. Far away showed the twinkling lights on the opposite shore.
“Shut the window, for God’s sake!” said Sleser irritably. “And don’t talk about murder. This place gives me the creeps—what is that?”
In the darkness at the far end of the room two green orbs had appeared.
“My leetle cat,” chuckled Guelder, and whistled.
The white ghost form of the enormous animal came slowly into view; she rubbed herself against Guelder’s leg, and then permitted him to stroke her ear.
“Gave me a start—phew!” Sleser wiped his streaming forehead with a large handkerchief and glanced fearfully around. “Why the devil didn’t you fix your laboratory somewhere up west, eh? There’s something uncanny about this place. I wonder if anybody was ever murdered here?”
Even as he spoke he saw the big cat stand stiff, saw the fur rise and heard her low, angry purr, and then, like a streak of lightning, she leapt down the room and was instantly out of sight.
“It is nothing,” said Guelder, waving his hand airily. “Her friend has trouble in the boathouse.” He pointed to the floor. “Rats…there are many just now. Hundreds and hundreds of them, and when one leetle cat is in trouble she calls her brudder and sister—dat is all!”
Mr. Sleser wiped his neck under his collar, gazing uneasily at the dark end of the room. “Uncanny,” he said thickly. “Come on, let’s get on with this. How long are you going to be?”
“Very soon now. Come back.” He peered at the hand of the meter, gazed at a smaller instrument that looked like a voltmeter, and then at his watch. “I don’t know…” He was hesitant. “Either it is now or never. If this experiment fails, gentlemen, again we must try. In science nothing comes instantly.”
He took a little porcelain bath, filled it very carefully with a white opaque fluid which he poured from a big bottle labelled “Poison”, and then, scraping off the dust that covered the diamond with a pair of tweezers, he lifted the stone and dropped it into the milky dish. “In a minute now,” he said huskily.
That minute seemed like hours. There was no sound but their deep breathing. He had switched off the current, and the hum of the machine had died away, leaving a complete silence. He groped down into the fluid with his tweezers. “Take that cloth, please…” He pointed to a small yellow duster, and it was Sleser who obeyed his instructions. “Now!”
He groped down with his tweezers, gripped the diamond, and deftly transferred it into the waiting cloth. “Wipe it quickly…” Sleser obeyed. “Now look.”
The millionaire was staring at the thing in his—palm. Dark yellow diamond there was no more: this was a thing of white and blue fire, beautiful to see. “My God!” he muttered, and carried the stone under the light. “Will it last?”
Guelder smiled. “For efer!” he said emphatically.
The experiment was finished now. They brought the stone to the sitting-room where the lights were more brilliant. On Guelder’s desk he had fitted a daylight lamp, and under this they crowded together to examine head to head this amazing gem.
“That’s a white diamond—I’ll stake my life on it!”
“May I keep this with me for twenty-four hours?”
Guelder shrugged. “For twenty-four years, my frient!” he said humorously. “As a yellow diamond it was worth maybe three hundred pounds.”
“It’s worth four thousand as a white,” said Sleser huskily. “I’ll guarantee to sell it to a dealer for that. This is marvellous!”
There was a knock at the door. Guelder opened it. “What is it?” he asked impatiently of the old woman.
“This stupid telephone has been ringing for hours,” said the phlegmatic Freda. “I do not understand English, but they ask for Mr. Reef.”
Guelder caught Julian’s eye and beckoned him. “Phone,” said Guelder and then, in a low tone: “What do you think of me? Am I not beyond compare in science? Shall not all the peoples of the world talk of Rex Guelder, eh?”
“You’re a marvellous fellow. Who is it wants me?”
“Ach!” said Guelder in disgust. “Go mit Freda. She was your intellectuality!”
Julian was gone five minutes. He did not come back, but sent Freda for her master. They had a consultation in a low tone at the foot of the stairs and soon afterwards Julian left the house.
“Where’s Reef gone?” asked one of the party when Guelder returned alone.
The Dutchman explained that Julian had been called away on a very urgent matter, but gave no further explanation. It was neither advisable nor expedient to say that at that moment Julian Reef was chasing a Rolls in Mr. Guelder’s sports car, or what would be the likely outcome of that chase.
Chapter 24.
AFTER seeing Ursula home, Tony came back to his house more than a little perturbed. Elk had accompanied him to Hampstead and had asked to be dropped en route.
“It is rather a curious fact,” said Tony, “and I haven’t told you this before, that I have been followed for the past few days. Once I went back and tried to find the man; and if I’d caught him I’d have given him something that would rather have discouraged him!”
“In which case you’d have been pinched,” said Elk, calmly. “Not even millionaires are allowed to beat up members of the C.I.D.”
“What’s that?” said Tony, hardly believing his ears.
“It was one of my men who’s been put on to look after you, Mr. Braid. I might as well tell you that I was afraid you might be committing suicide one of these days, and you’re such a good feller that I didn’t like to take the risk.”
“Do you seriously mean that I’ve been watched, by a—?”
“Detective,” said Elk. “And you’ve got to pretend not to notice him. He was behind us when we came out of Kirro’s; he was the fellow that chased along the street and tried to get a car to follow the shooting gentleman. There’s one thing I’d like to ask, Mr. Braid; is there anybody who knew you went to Woolwich tonight, or why you went to Woolwich?”
Tony shook his head.
“You told nobody—telephoned to nobody?”
“Except to Lady Ursula.”
“Tell your servants, by any chance?”
“Certainly not the maid, she sleeps out and I’ve only got one man—named Lein. He’s not a very bright specimen and I certainly shouldn’t have taken him into my confidence, the more so as I’ve given him a week’s notice. He’s a little too inquisitive.”
“Lein?” repeated Elk thoughtfully. “How long has he been with you?”
“Only a month,” said Tony. “He came with very good references.”
“Can anybody hear when you ‘phone or when I ‘phone?”
Tony smiled: “If they stood outside the door and listened hard they could hear me, but I doubt if they could hear you. Good Lord! The extension!” He told Elk of the bedroom instrument. “Anybody who listened in there would of course hear the whole conversation. I never thought of that before. But it’s very unlikely.”
“Nothing’s very unlikely. I’ll step inside and talk to Lein.”
“The man may be perfectly honest—” began Tony.
“No man is,” said Elk. “I’m not; you’re not, from what I hear. And I’ll bet Lein has got twenty-eight convictions!”
When he confronted the rather nervous young man who came in answer to Tony’s ring, Mr. Elk could not recognize a desperate criminal. If that had been possible he would have done so before, for he had an excellent memory. But, as he subsequently explained, the majority of criminals are not at all well known, and it is only the unfortunate few, comparatively, whom the police call by their family names.
“Where were you before, my son?” asked Elk.
The man hesitated just a fraction of a second too long. “With Lord Ryslip.” He named a famous overseas Governor who, to Elk’s knowledge, had been absent from England for five years.
He asked another question; the man floundered a little, then grew defiant and a little truculent.
“If you’re saucy to me,” said Elk gently, “I’ll throw you through that window on to the iron spikes! You know me, my son?”
“Yes, sir, you’re Sergeant Elk.”
Elk’s eyes narrowed. “Inspector, you poor out-of-date herring!”
And then the man made a mistake and blurted: “They always call you sergeant.”
Elk looked at him steadily. “An associate of thieves, eh? Who sent you here? Tell me why you listened in to Mr. Braid’s conversation with me tonight, and then tell me who you phoned, or I’ll put you in the cold, cold jug and you’ll freeze to death!”
The man blustered and in the end abruptly left the room. “Guilty,” said Elk, “but I don’t know what you can do with him. Now in the old days, when we had torture chambers in the Tower, which was the old-time Scotland, Yard, we’d have got quite a lot of interesting things out of him, but they don’t allow any third-degree in England.”
He came to his feet as he heard the street door bang. He was half-way to the door, but turned back.
“Getting impulsive in my old age,” he said, “and I’ve got nothing to charge that bird with; I’ve an idea I can pick him up just when I want. Do you remember what I said over the phone? Did I mention the coat?” Tony nodded. “That was it. Did I mention the Honourable Mr. Julian Reef? I’ll bet I did! And I’ll bet that’s who this feller telephoned—probably at Greenwich. That’s an old trick of Reef’s—oh yes, he’s done it before.”
There and then he told Tony quite a lot about Mr. Julian Reef that he had never heard before. They were not nice stories; one at least was very ugly.
“It’s a funny business, this detectivizing,” said Elk. “We know so much more about people than they think we know, or they’d like us to know. There are men in the West End tonight who’d go white-haired if they knew just what Scotland Yard was thinking of them. They’ll never be pinched perhaps, but then they don’t do things for which people are pinched. Half the sin in the world is legal, and it’s the worst half, as I can prove.”
He left Anthony Braid to pass a sleepless and troubled night. At four o’clock in the morning he rose and walked to his bedroom window. It was still raining and below, in the dim light of dawn, he saw a sturdy figure standing in the shadow of a doorway, smoking a pipe. Tony guessed that it was his watcher, and waved a cheery salute, to which the unknown man responded. He made himself a cup of coffee. For some reason which he could not understand, his mind was occupied by Ursula Frensham.
He felt uncomfortable about her, for no especial reason, unless that attempted murder of the previous night had made more acute his sense of danger. He finished the coffee and dressed; five minutes later he was in the street. The detective on duty walked across the road to greet him. “You’re rather early this morning, Mr. Braid.”
“I’m taking a run to Hampstead. Would you like to come?”
“I’ve got to come,” said the other good-naturedly, “I’m glad Mr. Elk told you. If you don’t mind my saying so, you’ve been rather a nuisance, Mr. Braid; you’re such a difficult man to trail.”
He accompanied Tony to the garage in the mews, and together they brought out the convertible. “Is there any reason for your going to Hampstead?” asked the detective when they were on their way.
“None at all,” said Tony guiltily. He felt exceedingly foolish; certainly had not the courage to tell the man by his side on what a futile errand they were bound.
They turned into Regent’s Park, the gates of which had just been opened, and came along the broad Outer Circle. As they went over the bridge which spans the canal at the foot of Avenue Road, Tony saw a man leaning over the iron rail, looking intently into the water and he could have sworn he recognized the figure. It was rendered more shapeless by a heavy waterproof, the collar of which was turned up to the ears. Its owner evinced no curiosity as to the occupant of the car that was abroad so early in the morning. Moreover, and this looked suspicious to Tony, he deliberately turned his head away so that his face could not be seen.
On the other side of the bridge was a long-bodied sports car, drawn up so far along the road that unless he had stopped his own vehicle and got out to examine it, it was impossible to see the number. “That looked like Mr. Guelder,” said the detective.
“I thought it did. Do you know him?”
“I’ve seen him. That was his car along the road, wasn’t it? Did you see it last night, sir?” Tony shook his head. “Neither did I, but from the height at which the man fired I could swear it was a sports model, the same as that one. But, of course, it couldn’t have been Mr. Guelder: he was at his house when it happened.”
“How do you know?” asked Tony in surprise.
The detective smiled. “At the Yard we swear by Inspector Elk’s method—which is to inquire,” he said drily. “And we inquired long before you went to sleep, Mr. Braid.”
They ran up the Avenue on to the Heath and turned into the road where Ursula’s house occupied a corner site. Tony got out and walked round the two sides of the house. He knew which was Ursula’s window; it was open at the top. To his surprise he saw a light burning and when he continued his walk and came into view of the front door, he saw that there was a light also in the hall. It was a quarter past five; the maid would not be up for another two hours.
He was hesitating what to do when he heard her cool voice hail him and saw her walking towards him, fully dressed. “So that was why you didn’t answer my telephone call!” she said.
“What on earth are you doing up at this hour?” he asked.
She laughed. “I was called up at two o’clock to receive a proposal of marriage,” she said, “and naturally I haven’t been to sleep since. I am rather glad I haven’t, for the gentleman who proposed over the phone has been patrolling up and down outside the house since daybreak.”
Tony stared at her incredulously. “Not—surely not Guelder? No, that would be monstrous.”
She nodded. “Mr. Guelder it was,” she said, and then her voice broke and her self-control deserted her.
In another instant she was in Tony’s arms, sobbing: “Oh, Tony, it was horrible—horrible!”
Chapter 25.
IT was some little time before she was calm enough to tell what had happened. She had heard the phone ringing and had thought that it might have something to do with her visit to Woolwich, and then she heard Guelder’s voice.
“He was very apologetic and nice, and I couldn’t very well hang up until I knew what had happened. I thought it might be something about Julian. And then, Tony, he began making the wildest statements. He said he was worth a million—or two, I’m not sure which—that he would be the richest man in England before a year was over, and he was going to build a palace where the woman of his heart would reign as a queen. I didn’t understand all he said. Sometimes he lapsed into Dutch and I couldn’t make head or tail of what he was saying. And then, before I knew what was happening, he was asking me to marry him. I just stood there petrified, not able to speak. He said he’d loved me ever since he’d seen me—it was ghastly, the things he said…At last I came back to my senses and cut him off, but of course it was impossible to go to sleep again. Day was breaking when I looked out of my window and then, to my horror, I saw him slowly strolling up and down the road. He saw me, too, and kissed his hand. He must have been drunk.”
Tony remembered the man on the bridge. “Then, it was Guelder!” he said.
“You haven’t seen him?” she asked quickly.
Tony told her of the man who was standing on the bridge. “I think I’ll go back and have a talk with Mr. Guelder,” he said, but she caught his arm.
“You’ll do nothing of the kind. You mustn’t, Tony! I want you to keep away from him, not to quarrel with him. There’s something diabolical about that man. It was his awful influence I could feel last night in Greenwich. It wasn’t the street, it was the spirit of this terrible man. If he ever touched me again I think I should die.”
“If he ever touches you again,” said Tony grimly, “I think he will die!”
The maid brought them coffee and biscuits, and as they sat in the little library Tony tried to get her to tell him all that Guelder had said, but resolutely she refused to discuss the matter.
“All I remember is that he was a millionaire, and that it’s something about diamonds, and he said he was the greatest inventor of the age. And, Tony, you’re not to see him—do you hear?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ve got to see him, Ursula. There mustn’t be a repetition of that experience.”
“I think he must be mad—I’m sure that it was he who fired at you last night.”
Tony, who was equally sure that Guelder was innocent in that matter, said nothing. For to exculpate the Dutchman involved many explanations. Was Guelder really mad? he wondered, on his wily back to his house. There was nothing very extraordinary about his falling in love with Ursula. It was rather horrible, but it was normal, and this man was something of a squire of dames. If rumour spoke truly, he had never flown quite so high as Ursula Frensham. He had found his affinities in a lower sphere; he was a man of low tastes and more than a little revolting. But Guelder must be interviewed, and fervently Tony prayed that in that interview he would be able to keep his hands in his pockets.
