Part 24 (1/2)

CHAPTER XXIII

THE POSSIBLE DEATH WARRANT

”Quite a clear print, you see,” repeated Mrs. Marlow brightly. ”No spot there. You must have been thinking of another.”

”Aye, just so,” replied Allerd.y.k.e absentmindedly. ”Another, yes, of course. Aye, to be sure--you're right. No spot on that, certainly.”

He was talking aimlessly, confusedly, as he turned the print over in his hand, examining it back and front. And having no excuse for keeping it, he handed it back with a keen look at its owner. What the devil, he asked himself, was this mysterious woman playing at?

”I'm going to have this mounted and framed,” said Mrs. Marlow, as she put the photograph back in her bag and turned to go. ”I misplaced it some time ago and couldn't lay hands on it, but I came across it by accident this morning, so now I'll take care of it.”

She nodded, smiled, and went off into the sunlight outside, and Allerd.y.k.e, more puzzled than ever, walked forward into the hotel and towards the restaurant. At its door he met Fullaway, coming out, and in his usual hurry.

Fullaway started at sight of Allerd.y.k.e, b.u.t.ton-holed him, and led him into a corner.

”Oh, I say, Allerd.y.k.e!” he said, in his bustling fas.h.i.+on. ”Look here, a word with you. You've no objection, have you?” he went on in subdued tones, ”if Van Koon and I have a try for that reward? It doesn't matter to you, or to the Princess, or to Miss Lennard, who gets the reward so long as the criminals are brought to justice and the goods found--eh? And you know fifty thousand is--what it is.”

”You've got an idea?” asked Allerd.y.k.e, regarding his questioner steadily.

”Frankly, yes--an idea--a notion,” answered Fullaway. ”Van Koon and I have been discussing the whole affair--just now. He's a smart man, and has had experience in these things on the other side. But, of course, we don't want to give our idea away. We want to work in entire independence of the police, for instance. What we're thinking of requires patience and deep investigation. So we want to work on our own methods. See?”

”It doesn't matter to me who gets the reward--as you say,” said Allerd.y.k.e slowly. ”I want justice. I'm not so much concerned about the jewels as about who killed my cousin. I believe that man Lydenberg did the actual killing--but who was at Lydenberg's back? Find that out, and--”

”Exactly--exactly!” broke in Fullaway. ”The very thing! Well--you understand, Allerd.y.k.e. Van Koon and I will want to keep our operations to ourselves. We don't want police interference. So, if any of these Scotland Yard chaps come to you here for talk or information, don't bring me into it. And don't expect me to tell what we're doing until we've carried out our investigations. No interim reports, you know, Allerd.y.k.e.

Personally, I believe we're on the track.”

”Do just what you please,” replied Allerd.y.k.e. ”You're not the only two who are after that reward. Go ahead--your own way.”

He turned into the restaurant and ordered his lunch, and while it was being brought sat drumming his fingers on the table, staring vacantly at the people about him and wondering over the events of the morning.

Rayner's, or Ramsay's, vague hint that something might suddenly clear everything up; Fullaway's announcement that he and Van Koon had put their heads together; Mrs. Perrigo's story of the French maid and the young man who led blue-ribboned pug-dogs--but all these were as nothing compared to the fact that Mrs. Marlow had actually shown him the photograph which he had until then firmly believed to lie hidden in the case of Lydenberg's watch. That beat him.

”Is my blessed memory going wrong?” he said to himself. ”Did I actually print more than four copies of that thing! No--no!--I'm shot if I did.

My memory never fails. I did not print off more than four. James had three; I had one. Mine's in my alb.u.m upstairs. I know what James did with his. Cousin Grace has one; Wilson Firth has another; he gave the third to this Mrs. Marlow--and she's got it! Then--how the devil did that photograph, which looks to be of my taking, which I'd swear is of my taking, come to be in Lydenberg's watch? Gad--it's enough to make a man's brain turn to pap!”

He was moodily finis.h.i.+ng his lunch when Chettle came in to find him.

Allerd.y.k.e, who was in a quiet corner, beckoned the detective to a seat, and offered him a drink.

”Well?” he asked. ”What's been done?”

”It's all right,” answered Chettle. ”I've told no more than was necessary--just what we agreed upon. To tell you the truth, our folks don't attach such tremendous importance to it--they will, of course, when you tell them your story about the photo. Just at present they merely see the obvious fact--that Lydenberg was furnished with the photo as a means of ready identification of your brother. No--at this moment they're full of the Perrigo woman's story--they think that's a sure clue--a good beginning. Somebody, they say, must own, or have owned, those pugs!

Therefore they're going strong on that. Meanwhile, I'm going back to Hull for at any rate a few days.”

”You've still got that watch on you?” asked Allerd.y.k.e.

”Certainly,” answered Chettle, clapping his hand to his breast-pocket.

”Technically speaking, it's in charge of the Hull police--it'll have to be produced there. Did you want to see it again, Mr. Allerd.y.k.e?”

”Finish your drink and come up to my sitting-room,” said Allerd.y.k.e. ”I'll give you a cigar up there. Yes,” he added, as they left the restaurant and went upstairs. ”I do want to see it again--or, rather, the photograph. You're in no hurry?”