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THE CASE OF
THE RUSTED ROOM
John Donavan

LUE
IT IS
MYSTERY
HILLMAN-CURL, INC.
NEW YORK, N. Y.


COPYRIGHT, 1937, BY
HILLMAN-CURL, INC.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA


CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER
1. Sion House Comes to Kensington Gore. 7
II. Mr. Wiseman Sees a Caller .....
III. Death and Miss Prillkins Intervene . ...
IV. Inspector Hunt Decides to Take Advice
V. Sergeant Lamb Sees Something Queer . .
VI. Inspector Cross Confirms a Theory ...
VII. Mr. Herries Makes a Statement ....
VIII. Sergeant Lamb Asks Some Questions ...
IX. The Doctor's Report Dispels a Doubt i
X. The Tenants Tell Their Stories .....
XI. Sergeant Lamb Summarizes the Position.
XII. Mr. Williams Lends a Hand .....
XIII. Mr. Chandler Grows Obstinate ....
XIV. Inspector Cross Becomes Active ...
XV. Heppelwhite's Report Comes In ....
XVI. Smoke Appears at Sion House . ....
XVII. Sergeant Lamb Receives Support . ...
XVIII. Mr. Williams Solves Some Puzzles ...
XIX. Mr. Brimsgrove Calls at Scotland Yard 195
XX. Sergeant Lamb Is Dissatisfied . .... 209
XXI. Mr. Herries Brings a Letter ...... 219
XXII. Mr. Nimmo Confesses ....... 228
XXIII. Heppelwhite Springs a Surprise ..... 237
XXIV. Sergeant Lamb Makes Some Discoveries . 246
XXV. Inspector Cross Becomes Annoyed ...
XXVI. Two Detectives Hear a Statement ...
XXVII. Miss Prillkins Has the Last Word ...
259
268
276


All the persons, companies, firms, syndicates, and
houses referred to in this book are entirely ficti-
tious, and in no way relate to any living person or
to any existing building or undertaking.


The Case of the Rusted Room
CHAPTER I
SION HOUSE COMES TO KENSINGTON GORE
IN THE single-minded belief that this day and age require
self-contained apartments suitable for self-contained minds,
the projectors of Sion House made little use of psychologi-
cal subtleties when they set to work. Their interpretation
of the national character found expression in the design
of a building in which every resident should have his own
front door and a window that overlooked the Park, and
should enjoy the isolated yet carefully tended luxury of a
bee's grub in its cell.
So the housebreakers came, and Kensington Gore rever-
berated to the crash of falling masonry. Where Lady
Blessington d'Orsay had taken tea, horny-handed navvies
moved in their mysterious courses; pavements that had
known the touch of Nelson's feet, and had enjoyed the
peace of a leisured, leisurely age, were rent in twain to
admit a writhing mass of pipes and cables; the houses
where bucks had exchanged venomous insults beneath a
veneer of cultured elegance became the stamping-grounds
of sane but unimaginative men who sought constantly for
the results of the latest race, whilst condemning the quality
of their beer, the works of the Government, and the va-
garies of the weather, with rigid impartiality yet perfect
unanimity.
And out of this Sion House grew. From a gaunt and
shameless steel skeleton it became dressed in bricks and


THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
mortar. Cunning architects and clever gadget-makgs
combined to reshape the fundamentals of a vanished world
to the tastes of the times. When at last the building was
complete, it flaunted a red-brick vastness and an aggres-
sive austerity that startled the quiet Victorian dreams of
Kensington.
But Peter Pan was not far from it; his spirit walked the
centrally heated corridors, and on its heels trod others
those emotional spirits of humanity which never change.
The odd things that are reputed to have come from Pan-
dora's box were in no way disconcerted by this twentieth-
century magnificence, in which externals are chromium-
plated and ozonized air comes from a box. In the dim
recesses of their own souls, the inhabitants of Sion House
heard the voices of the same gods that have talked to the
darker side of men since Cain looked at his hands and
saw that they were strangely dyed.
All London came to look at Sion House because it was
worth examining. Publicity had impressed upon the world
its modernity, its excellence, its unique qualities. Archi-
tectural journals had gone into_ecstasies over it, publishing
detailed plans alongside exhaustive articles that talked of
stress and strain, of sound-absorbing walls, of service lifts
and automatic rubbish chutes, of refrigeration, and of the
superiority over the crude efforts of Nature of mechanically
supplied air that was scrubbed, humidified, and warmed.
Roughly speaking, the building was long and shallow-
a plan that had the dual advantages of providing a fine
frontage while necessitating only the purchase of properties
on the main road. The depth being slight, there was no
encroachment on the land behind.
If reached upwards to a height of seven storeys and
downwards for a depth of two basements. Below the


SION HOUSE COMES TO KENSINGTON GORE
ne
.
ground, on the second basement, there was a maze of plant;
here Sion House manufactured its own atmosphere; a
battery of boilers supplied heat and hot water; a huge cen-
tral vacuum-cleaning plant drew dust and dirt from the
farthest corners of the building. Above, on the basement -
proper, were the kitchens and staff quarters.
Cars came under a covered way to the main entrance;
and here the visitor stepped into a miniature town contain-
ing the restaurant, the rest rooms, a library, and a row of
shops that supplied permanent waves, flowers, confection-
ery, tobacco, chemists' goods, and theatre tickets-every-
thing, in fact, but the basic essentials of life, which were
catered for by the restaurant at prices appropriate to so
select a centre.
On the ground floor, too, were modest apartments con-
taining a bed-sitting-room and bath. These were the “mini-
mum” flats that formed the base of a scale rising to the
greater magnificence of the top floor, from the windows of
which a view right across the Park to Marble Arch was
commanded.
Every flat on the top floor consisted of a large bed-sitting-
room with ample, steel-framed windows longer than they
were high, a lobby, and an internal bath-room. It was a
stroke of luck for the proprietors that the latest building
regulations of the London County Council were cast to per-
mit bath-rooms without windows, for they could use every
inch of their frontage and give every living-room its
vaunted view. Thus each flat was shaped like an elongated
rectangle.
There came to Sion House the usual miscellany of
human beings that such a building .attracts; and, as fre-
quently happens under crowded communal conditions, they
quickly resolved themselves into cliques and cabals. Suche


10
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
a group occupied the four flats at the right-hand end of the
top floor, where four beings called these boxes “home.”
Never were sound-proof walls more completely justified
than in the first of these, which faced the west-wing lift.
Here dwelt Brigadier-General Roland Railton-Railton, who
believed in expressing his opinions firmly, loudly, and, if
possible, objectionably. His body was large and red, and
the shortness of his temper contrasted with the length of
his years. His services to King and Empire were revealed
in an amazing litter of trophies and souvenirs, which
crowded the flat with tangible memories of the North-West
Frontier and the military operations of nearly half a cen-
tury; but even these were subordinated to the large arm-
chair, the Indian-lacquer table and its tantalus, which stood
in front of the window. From this vantage-point, the
General passed the greater part of his days in grumbling
peace, enlivened every few hours by a pleasant and bracing
skirmish with the valet who brought his meals from the
service kitchen. Only occasionally did the General go
abroad, either to make an energetic sortie on the Park, or
to spend an hour or two in a contemplative game of chess
with his next-door neighbour-a combination that illus-
trated the laws of contrast.
This next-door flat itself was neat almost to the point of
insult. Down to the smallest match-box, everything was
geometrically and exactly placed, as though the articles were
distributed according to some mathematical law of pro-
portion. The occupant of the apartment went to his City
office in the morning and returned in the middle of the
afternoon. From 3.40 onwards, he ruminated happily
among highly technical works on chemical engineering.
Charles Nimmo was a precise and gentle little man. The
. ordered rules by which he regulated his days were reflected


SION HOUSE COMES TO KENSINGTON GORE 11
in his daily life and in his chairmanship of Charles Nimmo,
Ltd., makers of chemical apparatus and plant. His opinions
-in fact his entire existence—were negative; but he could,
most decidedly, play chess, and there was a subtle charm in
his unfailing courtesy that offset his finicky habits.
Contrast was again supplied by his neighbour on the far
side from the General-Miss Prillkins. Aggressive as the
General, of whom she disapproved severely, she was mas-
sive, solid, and vigorous. Possessing a virile athleticism of
her own, she had no patience with people of a lesser build
and more sedentary habits. Her entire existence was de-
voted to works that she decreed good-in particular the
bullying of a troop of Girl Guides whereof she was the
proud, dictatorial-and, for all that, à most efficient-com-
mandant. She worshipped wholeheartedly at the shrines of
fresh air and of that meatiness of physical endeavour and
clear-cut, unsubtle thought she swore was England.
The last flat of all belonged to Samuel Wiseman, a gen-
tleman of substance, whose only connection with his three
neighbours was a willingness to make a fourth at bridge,
which took place perhaps twice a week, and proved, by
gathering together these antithetic characters, that there is
something in the League of Nations ideal after all.
Wiseman's Alat lay midway between the flamboyance of
the General's and the preciseness of Charles Nimmo's. It
was contrasted, too, with Miss Prillkins's, for Wiseman
shared none of that lady's enthusiasm for fresh air. He
looked on an open window as a short cut to swift eternity.
His sole reason for choosing a flat that was too humble for
him lay in its possessing a ventilation system he considered
beneficial to his'asthma.
As much as anything, the man was a hypochondriac.
There was no doubt about the genuineness of his com-


12
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
plaint, which did, beyond all question, cause him severe
distress; but it was also his hobby, his fetish, and his sole
interest in life, something that he nurtured and tended as
another man might cultivate orchids.
All day long, he would sit before the tightly closed
windows reading serious books in the intervals between the
paroxysms of coughing that racked him. This thin, spare,
prematurely grey, man was a firm believer in doctors and
patent medicines, in both of which his ample means per-
mitted unfettered indulgence. Let a new doctor be ru-
moured as an expert in asthmatic diseases and he was im-
mediately summoned to Wiseman. Let a manufacturer
announce some new and doubtful inhalant, and Wiseman
was his first and most eager customer. He had reduced the
judgment of inhalants to a fine art controlled by a simple
formula: the more unpleasant the smell of his medicine, the
more he believed in it.
Not unnaturally, his neighbours sometimes objected;
even the modern devices of Sion House were unable to
cope with the mephitic clouds he created. Every time the
valet opened the door to serve a meal, the powerful odour
of Wiseman's latest fad was wafted along the corridor, and
no man or woman appreciates the perfume of adrenalin in
concentrated form.
Death was never far from Samuel Wiseman. Every one
of those fearful bouts of coughing sapped his energy and
overstrained a heart that violent medicines did nothing to
strengthen. He sat there in his reeking atmosphere waiting
its coming, a wasted life wasting to its end. Circumstance
might have given him wealth and ease; it had given him,
too, a crabbed and crabbing nature. He saw no good in
any of his fellow men. He knew only the torture of his
malady and the loneliness to which it condemned him.


SION HOUSE COMES TO KENSINGTON GORE
13
Yet he did not want to die; he clung to the empty husk
that was his life as though it were some precious fruit.
His grim hold on life was due not so much to his enjoy-
ment of existence as to a desire to benefit no one. When he
died, his wealth would fall into other hands, and the idea
appalled him. For as long as possible, he was determined, he
alone must direct its disposition.
If there was something almost repulsive in Wiseman's
attitude to life, there was, too, something pathetic in it.
Life had played him a sorry trick; his one desire was to pay
as much back as he could before the final curtain fell.


CHAPTER II
MR. WISEMAN SEES A CALLER
INTRUSIVE strangers had little chance of breaking the clois-
tered calm enjoyed by the inhabitants of Sion House. Visi-
tors were received in the main hall by the porter on duty
and they were not allowed out of his sight, or one of his
assistant's, until the tenant had indicated a willingness to
see the caller, who was then either taken up to the flat or
shown into one of the rest rooms on the ground floor. Sion
House was a black area as far as insurance canvassers and
enterprising gentlemen with vacuum cleaners were con-
cerned.
When Hugh Chandler called to see Samuel Wiseman,
that irascible gentleman requested that the caller should be
taken into one of the small rest rooms. He did not like
visitors of any description and rarely admitted them to his
flat-an idiosyncrasy of his that met with general approval,
since few could endure that fume-sodden atmosphere. In
any event, he did not relish calls from this particular young
man.
Hugh Chandler was the ward and nephew of Wiseman's
late cousin, Joshua Wright. Wiseman had little use for the
man, whose visits usually meant a request for money“
requests that were, without exception, firmly and often
rudely refused. Wiseman was feeling particularly ungra-
cious today. He had had an exceptionally bad night, and
.
14


MR. WISEMAN SEES A CALLER
15
the hangover of the vicious attack was still with him. Yet
he was not unwilling for the interview; he almost wel-
comed an opportunity to be offensive to someone and thus
restore his belief in his own power.
As he entered the small rest room, breathing stertorously
and leaning heavily on the stout stick he always carried, he
glanced with disfavour at his visitor. He had never liked
Hugh Chandler, and this afternoon the weak yet not un-
attractive face seemed particularly distasteful to him. His
eyes travelled over the figure in an embracing glance, not-
ing the neutral-coloured hair, the full-lipped mouth and
rounded chin revealing a lack of determination, and the
slip-shod, untidy, unbrushed suit. He particularly looked at
the young man's hands, which experience told him always
betrayed his frame of mind. They were restlessly active, the
fingers clasping and unclasping; he knew at once that
Chandler had come again on the usual business. Wiseman
braced himself for the duel.
“Well?” he gasped, wheezing heavily.
"Good afternoon, Uncle.” Chandler's voice was unsteady.
He always called Wiseman “Uncle," though there was no
kinship between them. He had been old Joshua Wright's
sister's child, while Wiseman had been Wright's cousin in
the maternal line. The “Uncle” was a relic of childhood.
“How are you today?"
"Bad as usual. But not bad enough to please you, young
man. There's life in the old dog yet, and I'm not giving in
for some time to come. You're not to get any high hopes
yet.”
Chandler flushed. Obviously, Wiseman was in no con-
ciliatory mood. But the flush was caused not so much by the
offensive tone as by the fact that the remark was aimed at
a raw spot. When Wright had died, he had disposed of his


16
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
estate in what had seemed to Chandler as a cruel injustice.
The residuary sum of over fifty thousand pounds had
been left in trust, with life interest to Wiseman, who was
already a rich man, while Chandler, whom Wright had
brought up as his own son, had been left only one hun-
dred and fifty pounds a year, though the reversion came to
him at Wiseman's death. With that grimness so typical of
him, Wiseman had interpreted the terms of the will liter-
ally. Chandler got his income, but no more. He argued
that Wright's intention had been for Chandler to make his
own way in the world, while protecting him from absolute
penury, and that to give any further aid was to defeat the
ends of the testator.
Chandler looked at Wiseman in silence, trying to make
up his mind how to continue. He always rehearsed his
interviews beforehand, but when the time came, his weak-
ness invariably let him down. He never proceeded on the
lines he had thought out as the best; as a result, he failed
when greater resolution, a firmer determination to press his
own cause, might conceivably have brought him success.
"I came to you, Uncle,” he said at last, slowly, “to dis-
cuss a business matter with you."
Wiseman grunted.
"That's what I expected. Well, Joshua made me your
trustee, so I suppose I must talk to you. But we've had
these talks before, and you know that you and I rarely see
eye to eye. Still, get on with it.”
“It's about my process. I've been working night and day
on it, and it's coming on beautifully. I've got to the stage
when I must build a full-size model to try out the results
of the experimental plant under proper working conditions,
and I wanted to ask you whether the estate could let me
have, say, four or five thousand pounds "


18
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“Yes, Uncle,” he remarked at last, his perspiring hands
now closing and unclosing on his tightly rolled handker-
chief. “I know that's your view. But I thought that if I
showed you the plans and let you know what I'd achieved,
you might see your way~ "
"I tell you I'm not interested! You've come to me before
now with that story. If you were anything of the man your
uncle was, you'd raise the money you say you need on your
own efforts. I'm no judge of these processes of yours, but
I know this: If there was any good in it, you could go into
the City and get someone to back you. The whole thing's
just imagination, if you ask me. What about that man you
said was helping you—what was his name, Brinley, Brims-
grove, or something, wasn't it? Isn't he doing anything?
You told me he knew his job. Well, if he's turned it down,
I say it's no good, and I'm not doing anything about it. If
I did let you have How much was it? Five thousand?
Five thousand fiddlesticks!—you'd be back here in six
months asking for more.”
For the first time in his interviews with Wiseman,
Chandler felt his temper rising. Ineffective in most things,
he was absorbed in his work. He had taken an honours
degree in science at an early age, and ever since he had
left the Royal College of Science he had devoted almost
every thought to developing a new process of producing
oil from coal-a process in which he believed implicitly and
in which independent experts had expressed high hopes.
He did not mind what Wiseman might say about his
character or lack of it; he did resent reflections on his work.
: “You know that's all wrong, Uncle,” he retorted hotly.
“You know I'm a technical man and I admit I haven't a
business head-the two rarely go together, you know. I
want to see this thing going in the right way. I might go


MR. WISEMAN SEES A CALLER
19
into the City, but if I got the money I should have to give
up my independence and work just to keep some financier
in comfort and let the process go hang. They'd want to
exploit it-put it on the market and get money out of
people who couldn't afford it, and then let the whole thing
drop when they'd made what they could. My God!”
Wiseman rose shakily to his feet.
"It's no good being rude, or telling me what's business
and what isn't. I've had more experience than you, though
you may have degrees and letters after your name. They're
a lot of good, anyway. No one ever got rich on them. But
I know this: I'm not going to let you have any money,
either from the estate or as a business proposition. You're
just another of these imaginative inventors whose swans
always turn out geese, and if I started lending you money,
you'd just use it up and come back for more. If I had any
faith at all in you, I might do something-might, I say.
But I haven't. You haven't the spirit of a mouse. You're
full up to the brim with book knowledge without an ounce
of practical common sense. You— ".
Chandler was on his feet now. He interrupted Wise-
man's outburst.
“Oh, shut up!” He began to shout. “I might have known
that a crabbed old skinflint like you wouldn't do anything.
Why the hell do I come to you? Uncle Joshua would have
helped me; all you care about is seeing how much money
you can pour into your own banking account. If I were a
stranger, you'd let me have ten thousand without a qualm,
if I promised you ten per cent. If I was some quack with a
packet of useless herbs that I claimed was an asthma cure,
you'd be all over me in your anxiety to help. You and your
money and your asthma! It'll kill you soon, anyway, with
all that garbage you take, and you can't bank your money


MR. WISEMAN SEES A CALLER
21
fresh air were diametrically opposite, and it coloured all
their relations. Even at bridge, their common meeting-
ground, their views on play were usually violently opposed
for no other reason than a mutual antipathy.
He dourly accepted Miss Prillkins's muscular arm and
stumbled to the door.
“I've had a slight-er-disagreement,” he wheezed at
last, as they went down the corridor towards the west-wing
lift. “A young man named Hugh Chandler. Perhaps you
saw him?"
Miss Prillkins's determined mouth set into a thin, firm,
and disapproving line.
"I did,” she said emphatically. “He nearly knocked me
over as he came from the rest room, and he did not even
apologize. Typical of the youth of today, Mr. Wiseman.
No respect for their elders, no sense of discipline. I strive
constantly—and not without success, I believe—to imbue
those principles of respect and discipline into my girls.
Their disregard is the curse of the times, as all of us with a
sense of responsibility to the future and the country must
recognize."
The look on her face suggested that her methods of in-
culcating her principles might be unequivocal. Her grip on
Wiseman's arm tightened so much that he made a weak
effort to shake himself free.
“Now, Mr. Wiseman, don't try to be independent. You
are unwell. I shall take you to your flat and see you
settled. Shall I call the doctor?”
Wiseman shook his head; they proceeded in silence via
the lift to the top floor. In his flat, he dropped into the big
chair. He looked round for a moment and asked Miss
Prillkins to give him a dose of some dark fluid from a


22
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
bottle whose neck bore the remains of a patent-medicine
stamp. She hovered over him while he took the draught,
waiting for him to speak.
“Yes, you're quite right, Miss Prillkins," he said slowly.
“Modern youth is quite irresponsible. That young rascal
seems to forget that I'm an ailing man. But he shall have
his lesson. I don't think we shall see him again.”
He paused; after a while he resumed, more to himself
than to his companion.
“Wants me to die, does he? Thinks I'm better out of the
way? All right, but I shan't die. I'm not going to die."
“Of course you're not.” Miss Prillkins looked at the
tightly closed window with profound disfavour. “If I
might make a suggestion, Mr. Wiseman, don't you think
you'd feel better if I opened the window just a little? The
air is lovely today.”
Wiseman sat up abruptly.
“No!” he rapped. “Don't touch that window. Do you
want to kill me too?” He looked at her darkly. “Anyone
might think you were in league with that young puppy.
Open window indeed! I believe everyone in this place will
be glad to get rid of me. We'll see, we'll see.”
His rising choler brought on the attack again. He
coughed loudly. Miss Prillkins, feeling that duty was done,
departed hurriedly. Only when she was entering her own
flat did she remember that he had said no word of thanks
for her help. She pursed her lips. Base ingratitude, she
commented to herself; after all, she had rescued the man.
With a firm gesture, she threw open the window and
admitted a gust of wind that scattered a pile of papers over
the entire floor.


CHAPTER III
DEATH AND MISS PRILLKINS INTERVENE
JOHNSON stepped out of the lift, pausing to talk to the at-
tendant, a special crony of his.
“You know, Albert,” he remarked thoughtfully, “I'm in
two minds about my holiday. Between you and me and the
gate-post, what would you do?”.
Albert scratched his head thoughtfully.
"Well, I do say it’s ’ard,” he said slowly, as though turn-
ing some weighty matter over in his mind. “After all,
you've been valet here since we opened, and I can't see why
you should ’ave to miss yer ’oliday just because old Jim's
walked out. That was a rum go, any'ow,” he added. “ 'E 'ad
a good job 'ere, and then 'e leaves sudden-like, without
giving no reason.”
“Yes, it's hard all right.” Johnson was too absorbed in
his own problems to discuss those of Jim, the departed
valet. “Means I've got the east half of the sixth as well as
my own half to do. It's more than flesh and blood can
stand. Besides, we've booked our rooms and paid for them.
And I gave up my holiday earlier in the year just to be
obliging. It's a crying shame, that's what I say."
“Why don't you clear out, like old Jim? After all, you'd
get another job easy, wouldn't you?”
"To be sure, I would. Never known what it is to be out
o' work for more'n a week. I knows my job, I do." He
23


24
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
nodded sagely. “I'll have to think about it. Well, I've got to
go and do old Sniff-and-Smell-he'll be roaring for his
breakfast.” Johnson braced himself and wrinkled his nose
in distaste. “Beats me why I put up with it. That flat of
his makes me stomach turn every time I go in it. And it's
not even October yet, but he's got all the radiators going
full blast. Like a 'othouse, it is.”
"Ar.” Albert endeavoured to look knowing. "I'll be see-
ing you, mate," he said, as Johnson strode off down the
corridor to resume his work.
Two minutes later he had brought his lift back again to
the top floor in answer to the persistent ringing of the bell.
He was so irate that he used the emergency button to open
the automatic doors, which flew back with a resounding
crash. He stepped out to speak his mind. The impatient
caller had kept his finger on the bell-push all the time the
lift had been ascending. Albert may have been a lift-
attendant, but he was conscious of his rights and was pre-
pared to stand up for them.
“ 'Ere, you carn'-" he began hotly. "Why, it's you!”
His tone altered as he saw Johnson. “Wot's up, mate?”
The valet was leaning against the wall, waving his hands
feebly. It was only after several attempts that he found
himself able to speak.
"It's Wiseman! Phew, it gave me a nasty turn! The old
codger's sitting there, dead as mutton.”
"But "
"I know what you're going to say. Yes, he was all right
when I took in his tea at seven. A bit peaked, I thought.
But now he's dead. Come and look for yourself.”
The recital of the news restored his confidence and he
walked along the corridor. Albert, with a pleasant sense of
drama stirring in his heart, followed readily enough. Sion


26
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
tell, but had no wish to play too big a part in it himself.
Johnson went downstairs, working the lift himself, and
telephoned to Wiseman's doctor from the head porter's box.
Then he waited in the neighbourhood of the main entrance,
occupying the interval so usefully that within a few min-
utes the entire domestic staff had been made aware of the
tragedy. It never occurred to anyone to inform the man-
ager of the building.
Dr. Pilchard was prompt in answering the summons. He
arrived in a mood of unreasonable irritation. A slight epi-
demic of influenza in the district had kept him hard at
work, and, like all medicos, he disliked the complications of
a dead patient to add to his worries. As Johnson took him
up in the lift, his foot tapped the floor impatiently. It was
just like Wiseman, he felt, to choose the most inconvenient
moment to make his long-expected exit from the world.
Albert touched his uniform cap as Johnson unlocked the
flat and led the doctor through the small lobby. For a
moment, he hesitated, uncertain whether to follow them
into the flat or return to his work and the pleasurable pros-
pect of discussing the news with his colleagues. Eventually
the call of duty, as he put it, won; dead bodies were not
so exciting as he had imagined; there was something a
little too unpleasant about them.
Dr. Pilchard nodded when he saw the dead man. He
proceeded to make a superficial examination.
"Thought it'd happen this way,” he said, apparently to
no one at all, though Johnson hovered near, determined to
miss nothing. “I've been expecting it for a long time.”
He busied himself for a few minutes and then stood up,
turning to the valet.
“You'd better help me to move him across to the bed
and put him in decent order. There's nothing here that I


DEATH AND MISS PRILLKINS INTERVENE
didn't expect. He had a violent paroxysm of coughing, and
his heart couldn't stand the strain any longer. Those patent
medicines of his were enough to kill him anyway.”
Between them, they laid the corpse on the divan bed.
There was something very much like disappointment in
Johnson's face; he had hoped for something more sensa-
tional than this. The whole affair seemed to be petering
out. The doctor turned to him again.
"Do you know anything of Mr. Wiseman's affairs?” he
asked. “His relations, if he has any, will have to be in-
formed. I suppose I shall have to do it.”
Johnson shook his head and was about to elaborate on
the uncommunicativeness of the deceased when the door
opened to admit a short, tubby little man with a bald,
shining head. He looked round the room hurriedly, glanced
at the body, and averted his eyes. There was an angry ex-
pression on his face. This was Holmes, the manager of the
building.
“Good morning, Doctor,” he said, not very cordially. "I
understand that Mr. Wiseman is dead. Is there ?"
"Mr. Wiseman is quite dead. It was not unexpected, Mr.
Holmes.” The doctor turned to pick up his bag a little
wearily. People were so tiresome about deaths on their
premises; they always seemed to think it was the doctor's
fault.
Holmes turned to Johnson.
“I heard of this quite by chance, Johnson. You should
have informed me at once. You take too much on yourself.
I shall speak to you later. You'd better go and get on with
your work. The other tenants will be wanting you, and we
can't have them alarmed.”
He turned again to the doctor.
“This is most unfortunate, Doctor. I knew Mr. Wiseman


DEATH AND MISS PRILLKINS INTERVENE
29
tly before tikable. She cad her
said. “I learnt it from the room-maid when she came in
just now. What is the cause, Doctor?”
“Really, Miss Prillkins— " Holmes tried to head her
off. The spinster's resolution was unshakable. She waved
him aside and stood expectantly before the doctor.
"Heart failure,” Pilchard said wearily. "His cough
strained it too much.”
“That's what you say. But I have other knowledge. I do
not believe that this is natural death. Mr. Wiseman was no
better and no worse these past few weeks than he was dur-
ing the last few months.” She paused dramatically to get
her effect. “The day before yesterday-on Tuesday~Mr.
Wiseman's life was threatened by a young man. I heard it
with my own ears. He was very distressed, and I helped
him to his room. He kept repeating 'I'm not going to die.'
This is murder, Doctor. The police must be called!”
She was playing the part of Nemesis, and the novelty of
that unique role had gone to her head. The two men were
temporarily helpless.
The doctor suddenly felt that his professional judgment
was at stake.
“This is ridiculous, madam," he answered stiffly. "I have
been attending Mr. Wiseman for some months and was
fully aware of his condition. I am quite prepared to give
a certificate without any hesitation, and I shall do so."
“Then you will be doing a very shameful thing. You
will be conniving at crime, Doctor, and I am surprised to
see you take it all so calmly. I tell you I am convinced that
this is murder, and if neither you nor Mr. Holmes will call
the police, I shall do so myself! I am aware of my duties
towards the community. I should have thought that a mem-
ber of the medical profession would have been equally con-
scious of them."


30
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"Please, please, Miss Prillkins!” Little beads of perspira-
tion stood out on Holmes's bald head. “Surely the doctor's
opinion is to be respected. Of course, i we quite appreciate
your sense of duty, but if you have any suspicions, you
should communicate them to Mr. Wiseman's solicitors. It is
not for us to take any sort of action. We must think of the
other tenants here.”
"In other words, Mr. Holmes, you are inviting me to be
silent to avoid a scandal! I will not, Mr. Holmes. Quite de-
cidedly, I will not. There is more in this death than meets
the eye. I am quite certain the doctor believes it is natural
death. But in how many murder cases has the victim's
doctor not been deceived? I repeat that if neither of you is
prepared to do his duty as a citizen, I shall take the re-
sponsibility. We must not let personal matters deflect us
from our duty.”
She was in command of the situation now. Her eyes
were bright; her body was taut; she was determined to im-
pose her views on these two insignificant men. She moved
over towards the telephone.
“Shall I call, Mr. Holmes? Or will you?”
Holmes laid his hand, which trembled slightly, on the
instrument so that she could not pick it up.
"Really, Miss Prillkins, this attitude is quite inexplicable.
But as you seem determined to make trouble, we had best
proceed with caution. The police will, of course, accept the
doctor's word, and we shall just make fools of ourselves.
Let us understand each other, Miss Prillkins. If I call the
police and they find a mare's nest, I shall probably lose my
position here; the owners will not tolerate a scandal that
will bring the house into disrepute. The responsibility must
lie with you. If I act as you insist, you must give me your


DEATH AND MISS PRILLKINS INTERVENE 31
leged hidhd turned'e destroyed, “There Police be
word that you will take all responsibility and advise my
principals that I strongly opposed taking this action. And
you must leave it to me to handle in the way I think best.
It must be done with tact, if it's to be done at all.”
Miss Prillkins inclined her head majestically.
“Certainly, Mr. Holmes. I, at least, though I may be
only a woman, am prepared to accept my responsibilities as
a law-abiding citizen. But I must insist that the police be
called at once.” Her eyes gleamed again. “There must be
no delay, or the clues will be destroyed.”
Holmes sighed and turned to Dr. Pilchard. The latter
merely shrugged his shoulders.
"Leave it to me,” he suggested. “I know them at the
police-station, and I think I can get this dealt with dis-
creetly.”
He faced Miss Prillkins.
“No doubt, madam, you are acting from the highest
motives. But I warn you—the consequences may be most
unpleasant for you.”
“I have already said, Doctor, that I know my duty and
intend to do it.”
With an imperious gesture, she swept from the room.
“Bit of a busybody, isn't she?” Dr. Pilchard asked,
gloomily making up his mind that his patients must now
take precedence over his breakfast.
Holmes's face was furious as he replied:
"She's a pest to the whole house. Knows everyone's busi-
ness but her own. I'll see to it that the owners terminate her
tenancy as soon as it can be done legally. I suppose we've
got to go through with it now?"
Dr. Pilchard rather surprisingly unbent to pat the man-
ager on the shoulder.


132
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"I'll see that it's all right. Just to satisfy her, I'll get them
to send a man along. I'll tell them there's nothing in it.
He'll just look round and go away. Now will you give me
the solicitors' address? I must get on to my patients.”
They left the room with a sense of friendliness inspired
by a common defeat.


CHAPTER IV
INSPECTOR HUNT DECIDES TO TAKE ADVICE
DIVISIONAL DETECTIVE-INSPECTOR Hunt looked round Wise-
man's flat with an uninterested eye. He had pulled back the
sheet that covered the body, taken once glance at the pallid
face, and covered it up again.
“There's nothing much to go on here,” he remarked to
Holmes, who was standing anxiously behind him. A second
interview with Miss Prillkins had still further shaken his
confidence in himself. Hunt was not a welcome visitor.
True, he was trying, on instructions, to look as little like
a policeman as possible, but the effort was not very success-
ful. The neat, double-breasted blue serge suit belonged to
one who could be nothing else but a policeman.
"It was a lady who wanted me to come, wasn't it?” he
asked. “Dr. Pilchard said she'd been making accusations
against someone. I'd better see her, I think.”
“Surely not, Inspector.” Holmes wanted that interview
least of all. “You were only asked to come here as—as a
matter of form to satisfy her. I thought you would just
look round, see there was nothing wrong, and accept Dr.
Pilchard's opinion.”
“We've no reason to question Dr. Pilchard's opinion,"
Hunt replied. “But I've got my duty to do. I've been asked
to look into this, and I must do something. This lady, Miss
Wilkins "
33


34
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"Prillkins. Miss Angela Prillkins.” Holmes said it as a
seventeenth-century Puritan might have named the Pope.
“Prillkins, then. A fine name, Mr. Holmes. Prillkins. She
made an accusation against a certain person, and it's my
duty to investigate it.”
Hunt was a conscientious man. He had been told em-
phatically by the doctor that this was a wild-goose chase,
but he was taking no chances. If he was on the spot, he was
going through his routine.
"Well, of course, if you insist ”
"Put it that way if you like, sir,” he said cheerfully. "Is
she in?"
Holmes hurried away to Miss Prillkins's flat, praying
that he might find it deserted. His prayers were unheard, or
at any rate unanswered. Miss Prillkins was not only there,
but waiting for him. She had noticed the arrival of the de-
tective a few minutes earlier and had prepared herself for
an interview. There was a look of triumph in her eyes that
she did not attempt to disguise.
“You had better bring him in, Mr. Holmes,” she an-
swered sharply to the manager's inquiry whether she
could see the officer. “I am quite ready to tell him every-
thing. And if I may say so, Mr. Holmes, I think you have
acted with a praiseworthy promptitude I hardly expected.”
Holmes Aushed and withdrew, to return a moment or
two later with Hunt.
"Good morning, ma'am,” the detective said, glancing
round the orderly room and absorbing its atmosphere of
chill moral correctness.
"Good morning, officer. Won't you sit down?”
Hunt lowered himself gingerly into a queerly shaped
chair upholstered in a florid chintz. No sooner had he
settled than he wished he had remained standing; the


36
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
Hunt felt like agreeing with the dead man in his refusal
to have the window opened. The keen late-September wind
was playing round his back and making him feel like a
slowly cooling corpse. He kept the thought to himself, a
suitable tribute to his hostess's domination.
"Is that all?” he asked.
"No, of course not. I heard part of the conversation. The
young man was most brutal. I heard him say that he hoped
Mr. Wiseman would die. He said: 'I hope to God you
die, and die quickly. That'll be one more rat gone from
the world.' He used an adjective before the word 'rat' that
I shall not repeat.” She pursed her lips firmly.
“I see. He didn't actually threaten Mr. Wiseman? He
only said he wanted Mr. Wiseman to die?"
“Those were his words, officer. If they do not form a
threat, I do not know what does. There is also something
more. Something must have been said before I arrived.
Mr. Wiseman firmly believed that his life was in danger."
“Oh!” Hunt was beginning to get interested.
"When I brought him back to the flat, he kept repeating
to himself: 'I'm not going to die'; and he muttered some-
thing like 'Wants me to die, does he?'"
“That hardly suggests a threat to me, Miss Prillkins. It's
the sort of thing he might very well say after what you've
just told me."
“Wait, officer. I'm sorry to see that you are so prejudiced.
I have not yet finished. But I warn you, here and now, that
if you refuse to take any action, I shall go to a higher
authority. I am not without influential friends.”
“That's all right, ma'am.” Hunt was quite unruffled. “I'm
merely trying to get things straight. I'm sure neither you
nor I want to be made to look fools.”


INSPECTOR HUNT DECIDES TO TAKE ADVICE 37
"I certainly don't, officer. May I continue?” she added
sarcastically.
“Of course, ma'am.”
"I told you just now that I offered to open Mr. Wise-
man's window. He was very rude about it; most rude. He
said—and these are his words, his very words, officer: 'Doº
you want to kill me too? Anyone might think you were
in league with that young puppy.' I merely wanted to help,
officer. I was hurt, but I put it down to the strain he had
undergone. Mr. Wiseman was frequently brusque, but he
never went to that extent.”
“I see.” Hunt spoke slowly, turning the affair over in
his mind. He was uncertain what to make of it. There
might be something in it, or there might not. Either way,
it seemed to him, he would have to take a risk. It would
look bad for him if he dismissed the whole thing and
something turned up afterwards. On the other hand, it
would be no less unsatisfactory if he took the matter
further and it proved a mare's nest.
“Do you happen to know who this young man was?”
he asked, temporizing with himself.
“Mr. Wiseman did mention a name. Let me see. Yes,
it was Hugh something. Chapman? No, not Chapman,
but something like it. Ah! Hugh Chandler. That was it,
I believe.”
Hunt made a note of the name in his book. Holmes
had been standing by, his irritation visibly increasing as he
noticed Hunt's growing disinclination to wash his hands
of the whole affair. He suddenly broke in.
"Mr. Chandler has been here several times before. He
was some sort of relation of Mr. Wiseman's.”
· The detective turned on him.


38
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“Are you sure of that? Do you know anything about
him?"
“Very little. I remember in the early days, just after
the house was opened, I was in the hall, and the head
porter was away on some duty. This gentleman came up
and asked for Mr. Wiseman, giving me his card. I spoke
to Mr. Wiseman myself, and he said something about Mr.
Chandler being always on his doorstep. I saw him several
times after that.” He checked himself abruptly, realizing
that he might be saying too much. Hunt took him up
sharply.
“Mr. Wiseman wasn't too pleased to see him, is that
right?"
"You might take it that way. But Mr. Wiseman was
never very pleased to see anyone.”
“What makes you think Chandler was some relation?”
“Oh, I shouldn't have said that. Gossip gets about the
house through the staff, and a manager can't help hearing
it. I should have paid no attention to it."
"And Mr. Wiseman—what sort of a man was he?
Rich?”
“Very well off, I should say. He lived quietly, but had
everything he wanted, and he rented one of the best flats
in the house. He must have spent a tidy sum on his
doctors and his medicines.”
"H'm.”
Miss Prillkins was sharp enough to see that these addi-
tional details, so naïvely given by the reluctant Holmes,
went some way at least towards supporting her own be-
lief. She could not resist throwing a glance of triumph at
the manager, who turned slightly pink, inwardly cursing
himself for being a fool. He found himself hating this
interfering, domineering spinster, hating Dr. Pilchard and


INSPECTOR HUNT DECIDES TO TAKE ADVICE
39
oud round,
old girl ho's tough
his suave promises that all would be well, hating this
officious policeman. Of course anyone should have known
that it was a detective's job to find suspicious circumstances
in the most innocent affairs.
Hunt rose to his feet, still undecided. He gave a stiff
little bow to Miss Prillkins, who, in contrast to her previous
attitude, smiled in what she believed was a charming way.
“Good day, ma'am, and thank you. If there should be
anything else, I shall call on you again."
"Do, officer. I am always glad to assist the police in any
way I can."
“Thank you, ma'am.”
He walked out, followed by the anxious manager. In
the corridor, he turned round.
"I'm not sure but what the old girl isn't right,” he
remarked. “She's a tartar, all right, and she's tough; any-
one who could stand that draught must be. I shall have
to make a few more inquiries.”
“But, Inspector, this is really ridiculous! At the most,
all that could have happened is that Wiseman and the
other had a row and the result turned him queer. There's
nothing criminal in that.”
"Perhaps not,” the inspector returned drily. "The main
point is that if there was all this ill-will floating round,
we've got to see just how far it went. People who sling
threats about—veiled threats it may be, if that-have got
to be watched, for everybody's good. I'm not sure I
oughtn't to look up this fellow Chandler. Wait a bit,
though. What about Johnson, who found the body? He's
the valet, isn't he? Well, I'll have a word with him. Your
office will do."
They went down in the lift to the ground floor, where
Holmes had an office suite of two small rooms. Johnson


40
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
was sent for and entered, hardly trying to disguise his
excitement. He had seen Hunt go into Wiseman's flat
and his wide experience immediately suggested police in-
quiries to him. The thing was turning out well after all.
“Oh, Johnson,” Holmes said, as the man reached the
desk. “This is Inspector Hunt. He's making a few inquiries
about Mr. Wiseman. Nothing serious, of course; he'd just
like to ask you a few questions. And let me warn you,
Johnson: no word of this outside here. We don't want it
talked about all over the place. Keep your mouth shut,
or I shall have something to say to you. I haven't had my
talk with you about this morning's affair, by the way. Now
understand-keep quiet.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hunt turned to the man, noting with approval his
straightforward expression and slightly amused at his
eagerness.
“You were Mr. Wiseman's valet, weren't you?”
“Yes, sir. I looked after that half of the floor. Since
Jim left us sudden-like last week, I've been doing his half
as well.”
"That's all right, Johnson. The inspector won't be inter-
ested in that.”
"No, sir."
“Tell me, Johnson”-Hunt checked Holmes's interrup-
tion with a firm look—"did Mr. Wiseman ever mention
a Mr. Chandler to you?”
"He never spoke the name, sir. Mr. Wiseman wasn't a
talkative gent, except when he had something to lay his
tongue by. Very close about his affairs he was, as a rule.
But Mr. Chandler came to see him several times and
sometimes came up to the flat."


42
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“Kill him, sir?"
"Yes. I mean, was he the type of man whom you could
imagine anyone might dislike sufficiently?”
"Oh, I see, sir.” He looked at Holmes nervously. There
was silence for a moment.
“Since you ask me, sir, I should say he'd make more
enemies than friends. He'd that way with him, sir, as
though he'd a grudge against the world. Not that he
was anything but pleasant to me, sir,” he hastened to add
as he saw Holmes's expression. “I always put it down to
him suffering so much if he was a bit sharp like. But
others, not knowing, might think different.”
"Thank you. That'll do nicely."
Johnson paused as though not quite sure whether he
was released.
"You may go now, Johnson,” Holmes said shortly.
“Remember what I told you-keep a tight hold of your
tongue.”
“Yes, sir."
When he had gone, Hunt turned to the manager.
"A straightforward chap, that,” he remarked. “Sort of
man whose word you can rely on."
“Mere gossip and hearsay. I'm surprised at you, In-
spector, I really am. I can't understand what you're driving
at. I suppose now you'll go away, after having upset
the whole place, and then come to the conclusion every
sane person must—that it's nothing mysterious at all.”
Hunt glanced at the man with disfavour.
“I shall go away, sir, but I shan't make up my mind as
you think. I rather fancy that Miss Prillkins is right,
and that there is something worth looking into. I shall
have to take advice on it and let you know. Meanwhile,
have that flat locked up and left absolutely undisturbed.


INSPECTOR HUNT DECIDES TO TAKE ADVICE
43
even by Mr. Wiseman's solicitors if they call.” He rose
and picked up his hat. “One word of advice, Mr. Holmes.
Don't sack Johnson. We may want him, and it's better
to have him on hand. While he's here, you can keep con-
trol over him; if he goes, he'll talk about this till the cows
come home. Good morning.”
"Good morning.”
Holmes made no move to show the inspector out; in-
stead, he glared at his retreating back.


CHAPTER V
.
SERGEANT LAMB SEES SOMETHING QUEER
DETECTIVE-INSPECTOR Cross was a big man, his intelligence
neither more nor less than it should be in one who has
attained his rank by virtue of hard work and unwavering
attention to the weary detail and soul-destroying routine
that no thriller novelist would ever credit as the daily
round of the C.I.D. man.
Nobody would have called him handsome; but here
again he was neither better nor worse than his colleagues.
With the swift certainty and insight of Cockney intelli-
gence, his nickname had become “Jumper” the moment he
had been gazetted to Scotland Yard. The allusion belonged
to the more subtle, ironic type of English humour; Cross
never jumped to conclusions, arriving at every decision by
painstaking thought. To Cockneys, the joke was of the
most exquisite vintage.
* But if Cross was the personification of the sober reliabil-
ity and the calm, sane impartiality of the London detec-
tive, his sergeant was the glittering contrast.
Sergeant Lamb—Johnny Lamb—was exactly thirty; tall,
lean, and unlovely. About him was that pleasant air of
ingenuous freshness that the public-school system is legen-
darily supposed to ingrain, along with a sense of humour,
in Empire-builders. When first sensed, it seemed incongru-
ous in a policeman.
44


SERGEANT LAMB SEES SOMETHING QUEER . 45
Johnny Lamb could hardly be said to have entered Scot-
land Yard by a back door, though he had not, perhaps,
waited his full and proper time in the queue at the main
entrance. He had a family connection with the police,
though its link was not with the rank and file.
Five years ago Sir David Lamb had died, full of honours
and regretted by all official and scientific London, the finest
pathologist ever attached to the Home Office. If the
Metropolitan Police had ever been endowed with a school
of medical jurisprudence, Sir David would have been its
natural, proper head. His was a mind that not only ab-
sorbed knowledge as a sponge takes water, but one that
had the power of co-ordinating it to the practical benefit
of the community.
Johnny's upbringing had been torn between the atten-
tions of his humorous, pawkily minded Scottish mother,
and those of his serious, brilliant father. Almost from the
time he could walk, the boy had been more accustomed to
chemical retorts than toys; the language of the laboratory
sat upon lips that would more fittingly have been used
to the jargon of the wild-west yarn. Every time his mother's
back was turned, his father spirited him away to library
or laboratory, where something new was learnt. Obviously
Johnny's future was to follow in Sir David's footsteps, and
his subsequent academic career indicated that he would
be a worthy follower. There were few distinctions in medi-
cine and chemistry open to a man just of age that Johnny
Lamb had not won.
But at twenty-two he had revolted. To his healthy mind,
the obscure behaviour of cadavers and the erratic eccentrici-
ties of electron theory were less interesting than the habits
of men; in his eyes, the blue uniform of the police was
far more beautiful than the white jacket of the scientist.


THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
Cutting athwart all he had been brought up to do, he
enlisted as a uniform man in Hornsey.
The uproar in the Lamb household broke unavailingly
on the stolid Celtic determination he had inherited from
his mother. A constable he had remained. But policemen
are human, and even headquarters sometimes feel kind
emotions. If Johnny Lamb was not helped, nothing stood
in the way of his promotion but his own grim resolve to
learn his business “from the bottom up.” He took promo-
tion only when it seemed to him that he had mastered the
groundwork. As Cross's assistant, he was a fine sergeant,
and, amusingly enough, he knew very nearly as much
about medical jurisprudence as the great man who had
stepped into his dead father's shoes.
He stood beside his superior in Wiseman's flat, looking
round him with an interested air, his grey-blue eyes twin-
kling slightly. They were keen eyes, trained from childhood
to observe; and they roamed everywhere, noting in a
single glance little details that the average man would
not have seen in a lifetime.
Cross was staring out of the window morosely, gently
tugging at the tip of his nose.
"It beats me why these sub-divisional people are always
so ready to panic,” he remarked at last. “Just because a
spinster fancies she knows things. There's nothing unusual
in this death. We've got Dr. Pilchard's report—the man's
own medical adviser—and he swears it's natural death.”
“I expect the answer lies in Miss Prillkins, sir,” Johnny
murmured. “We must defer judgment till we have seen
her. She stands for all that is most hallowed in our British
Constitution. She is a spinster, and spinsters see things
we hardened men of sin would never notice; they see the
lurking evil our callous souls would not suspect.”


SERGEANT LAMB SEES SOMETHING QUEER
47
The constable outside the door smiled happily to himself
as he listened with great intentness to the conversation.
“Let's be scientific, sir. The old boy is dead. 'Murder!'
screams the Prillkins. Like a prophet fired from above, she
bludgeons a doctor into going to the police to ask them
to prove him wrong, and then, with the same undaunted
spirit, she forces the local D.D.-I. to send for us. Why?
Don't ask me, sir.”
“You're the most insubordinate officer in the force," Cross
commented amiably. “Is that the best you can do? If it is,
we can go and have tea.”
"No, sir. While you have been admiring the view over
the Park, I have been casting my eyes around. All is not
well within these walls. There is a subtle air that now and
again wafts itself across my nostrils. It isn't any of the old
boy's medicines-I know their perfumes all too well. No;
it reminds me of something else.”
“Well? You've got something on your mind, Lamb.
What is it?”
“Then there're the curtains. That stuff is the famous
Faversham fadeless fabric–I recognize it, for I bought
some for my little flat last week, and you can't mistake the
pattern; it's grim, but pleasing to the godless."
“Nothing queer about that, is there?”
“No, perhaps not. It's faded, that's all, and so is the
cover of that chair, and it comes from the same stable.
And look at that Persian rug. That's not one of your
Tottenham Court Road specimens, but a real antique
specimen, and the man valued it; he's hung it on the
wall and not put it down to wipe his feet on, as most
English Philistines would. Yet it looks dirty. Surely if
he knew it's worth, he wouldn't let it be in that state-
especially as it isn't ordinary dirt.”


48
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"Where is all this leading?"
“I don't know yet, sir. I'm merely telling you what my
all-seeing eye observes. There's a silver cigarette-box on
that little circular table, and it's quite black. Perhaps you
took it for lacquer? Are we to suppose that service in the
House of Sion is so lax that silver boxes are not cleaned
for months and months on end?”
Cross looked round him with growing interest.
"You mean to say there's something fishy here?”
"I do, sir. But it's not fish I smell. It's something more
like some kind of sewage plant. No, there's something
very, very far from right here. If this little box, that was
to Wiseman all he knew of home, is full of things that
ought not to be, how shall we say that the Prillkins's
insight is all wrong? How shall we know that, to put it
vulgarly, that corpse was not hurried to the Almighty
without His help and without His summons?”
He prowled roundathe room, thrusting his nose here,
there, and everywhere. He gazed with a look of quizzical
amusement at the array of medicine bottles ranged in
serried rows in a cupboard, noting that most of them had
patent-medicine stamps round their necks or on their card-
board boxes. He picked up one or two to read the pre-
scriptions imprinted on the labels, as required by law.
“Amazing, isn't it,” he asked, “that anyone should
spend so much on infinite variations of the same theme
when he can read? And this man can obviously read
stuff that'd turn most people's stomachs.” He paused in
front of the book-shelf. “Hegel, Nietzsche, Bertrand Rus-
sell—well, he'll need all the philosophy he can raise where
he's gone, poor old devil.”
Cross was mentally turning over Lamb's remark about
the corpse. He wanted to be sure before he committed


SERGEANT LAMB SEES SOMETHING QUEER
49
more Miss Prillbit think cha
himself and paid no attention to the remarks about the
book-case.
"Hunt seemed impressed by Miss Prillkins's story. I
suppose there is some sort of prima facie case, and what
you say puts it a bit more forcefully still. What do you
say to having a word with Miss Prillkins?”
"Certainly, if you wish it. But I don't think enlighten-
ment lies there. If she had anything to say she'd have told
it to Hunt. It was her big moment, you know, telling the
police what to do. I'm panting to meet the lady, but let's
defer the pleasure so that it may grow by anticipation.
What's happened to the corpse?”
"Been taken to the mortuary for examination by our
own man. Pilchard's statement on what he died of doesn't
seem to need checking."
“No. But I think we should have an autopsy. Just to be
sure. I don't like the look of this room.”
He had been moving about ceaselessly, picking things up
and putting them down again with restless persistence.
“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Now here's yet another thing.
What does this label say, sir?".
He held out a small bottle to Cross, who, in some sur-
prise, read the inscription: “Tincture of lodine".
"You're familiar with the stuff, sir?"
“Of course I am. Who isn't?”
"Well, this is a fresh bottle, lying on the table by this
book. It's almost full and had the cork out. Therefore,
it's not likely to have been there long, or someone, prob-
ably a maid, would have either put the cork in or upset it.
Yet it's strangely changed. This bottle seems to contain
two fluids and some crystals at the bottom. You can see
the line dividing the two fluids if you hold the bottle up
to the light, and some solid stuff at the bottom. It's not


50
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
very clear through the blue glass, but it's there. What are
we to make of that?”
"Look here, Lamb, you've got something behind all this.
What is it?"
"Nothing definite yet, sir. I've got a suspicion, but it
may be wrong because it's too fantastic. I want to check
it up. And I want to know what state that corpse is in.
I've no doubt Pilchard's right in the main essentials——the
old boy Auffed through over-coughing and breaking his
heart; but I think they'll find something more. With your
permission, I'll take this bottle and have a look-see myself.
I think I'm capable,” he added with a grin.
Cross nodded, though whether in agreement with the
last sentence or as an indication of his permission was not
clear. Taking it as the latter, Johnny drove the cork in
hard and sealed it with a piece of adhesive plaster cut from
a roll he found in the medicine cupboard. Then he wrapped
up the bottle carefully in a piece of paper and deposited it
in his pocket.
“I should like to go over this room systematically, sir,"
he said with sudden briskness. “I want to chart out certain
features. You can have a sketch made in the ordinary way,
but I should like to make my own. I can do that later.
Meanwhile, I suppose no one at all need come in here now
they've removed the corpse?”
"No. We can have it sealed if you like.”
"If we may, sir. Thank you. You agree we've got some-
thing to look into, I suppose?”
"I'll take your word for it, Lamb." Cross's tone was
dubious but kind. “This seems more your sort of case than
mine. I can't understand all this fading business. I'll leave
that to you. If we're going to tackle this case, we shall
have to make some inquiries; I'm wondering where's the


SERGEANT LAMB SEES SOMETHING QUEER
51
the rourinhew Crosa.
Il-checkin
best place to start. I must show you how real police work
is done,” he added grimly.
Johnny grinned. He knew Cross would not be happy
till he had set the routine of statement-getting and state-
ment-checking in action.
“We've got Hunt's report,” Cross continued, taking a
copy of it from his pocket and checking the points as he
went along. “That gives Miss Prillkins's story, the valet's
story, and the manager's story. He seems a bit of an ob-
stacle, by the way. All of 'em, except perhaps Miss Prill-
kins's, could be amplified, but I suppose that can wait.
None of those three will run away.
"Then there's this fellow Chandler,” he went on. "He'll
have to be seen and questioned, but we don't know where
to find him. There are the people on this floor besides Miss
Prillkins—I got their names from the manager. There's a
brigadier named Railton-Railton and a chemical-engineer
chap named Nimmo—".
Johnny looked up sharply.
“A chemist, did you say, sir?"
“Yes. Chemical engineer he described himself, but I
suppose it's much the same. Why?”
“Nothing-yet.”
"Then don't interrupt." Cross's voice was sharp, but his
eyes smiled. “We know practically nothing about Wiseman
himself except what the valet and Holmes said, and that's
only hearsay in the main. He moved in when the place
was opened about ten months ago and has been here ever
since. He was the first in this wing on this floor.”
He looked round the flat with disapproval.
“Why do they live in these places, Lamb, at a rent that's
more than your salary? Nothing but a box—and the bath-
room hasn't even got windows in it. However, let's get on.


THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
'Here his note
eadenhall
I think we ought to see someone who can give us a bird's-
eye view of Wiseman and his affairs. His solicitors, say.
Now let me see ... Holmes gave me their name—said he'd
already given it to Pilchard. H’m!” He produced his note-
book and turned the pages reflectively. “Here we are.
Ronton, Herries, and Brant, Leadenhall Street. What's the
time?"
The sergeant turned a wrist and revealed a most un-
policeman-like wrist-watch.
“Twenty-two minutes past five," he said.
"Damn! Then it's too late tonight. We'll make it first
thing in the morning. Wonder if I'd better ring first?"
He stared stolidly at the telephone as though expecting
it to reply, then picked up the instrument and asked the
house exchange to find out the number and put him
through. In a couple of minutes the bell tinkled.
Briefly he explained his business, finally ringing off after
a short conversation.
"Mr. Herries is the man," he explained. “We see him
tomorrow at ten o'clock. I'll meet you there." He scribbled
the name and address on a piece of paper, which he handed
to Lamb.
"Is there anything else you want to do here?” he asked,
stuffing his note-book and Hunt's report into a capacious
pocket.
Lamb hesitated.
"If there's nothing else on hand, I'd like to stop and
make that plan I mentioned. I'll just slip out and get a
drawing-block somewhere, have a cup of tea, and nip back.
Okay, sir?”
"Carry on. And don't fake the evidence."
Cross pulled on his mackintosh and strode towards the
door.


CHAPTER VI
INSPECTOR CROSS CONFIRMS A THEORY
WHEN Johnny Lamb returned to the flat an hour later, he
appeared to be lost in deep thought—so much so that he
exchanged a purely perfunctory greeting with the con-
stable on the door, to the officer's great surprise. Usually
he had some bright remark to make, but this evening he
scarcely noticed the man's attempts at conversation.
Once inside, he took every precaution to ensure his not
being disturbed. Having switched on the lights, he rang up
the house exchange and told the operator that on no ac-
count were calls to be put through; messages for him were
to be sent up to the constable outside. He then moved over
to the windows in order to pull the curtains. It was not
likely that anyone could overlook him at that height, but
he wished to feel quite alone, and drawn curtains gave an
impression of isolation.
He tugged at the curtain; instead of sliding easily on
the rod, the whole thing came down, wrapping him in its
folds. Cursing violently, he disentangled himself. Suddenly
he whistled softly, as he picked up the broken rod. He
examined it closely and the reason for the mishap imme-
diately became clear. It was only a cheap affair of very
inferior quality, consisting of an iron tube lightly plated
with chromium. The metal had rusted through sufficiently
for it to break when he had pulled at it. Quickly he re-
53


54
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
covered the other half of the rod, examined it minutely,
and, when he had finished, he put the two pieces carefully
together, tying them with a piece of twine he took from
his pocket.
The incident, though it deprived him of the seclusion
he desired, seemed to restore his energy. He picked up
the parcel he had brought in and took out a couple of new
drawing-pencils, one B and one 3H, an engineer's scale, a
forty-five degree set-square, and a drawing-pad of What-
man's surface paper. These he laid on the occasional-table
before beginning to sharpen the pencils. Next he took a
steel measuring-tape from his pocket; it was of the type
that curls across its width when extended so that it remains
rigid like a rule. He placed his note-book beside the other
equipment on the table.
Now he set to work methodically to survey the room.
Its greatest length ran parallel with the frontage and had
the windows on the outer wall. The inner wall had doors
to the small lobby and the bath-room. He measured the
length and breadth carefully, finding the first to be twenty
feet and the latter fifteen feet over all, after allowing for
the built-in furniture fitments at either end. By standing
on a chair, he determined the height of the room to be
ten feet. Returning to the table, he drew to scale on the
pad a rectangle twenty feet by fifteen feet, making a pencil
note of the height on the corner of the sheet.
Next, Lamb proceeded to plot in the furniture, which
seemed to have been reduced to the minimum necessary
for use and comfort. There was, in fact, little need for
anything else beyond chairs and tables beside the bed,
because the architect's design included two built-in fittings
that ran almost the entire length of each side wall. These,
two feet deep, provided for storage of all kinds, part of one


INSPECTOR CROSS CONFIRMS A THEORY
being fitted out as a wardrobe and dressing-table, while the
other afforded shelves and cupboards on a lavish scale.
The furniture itself consisted of a large easy chair uphol-
stered in Faversham fabric, a dinner-trolley on large rubber-
tyred wheels, a circular occasional-table two feet in diam-
eter, a modern-looking tubular chromium standard lamp,
a divan bed, and a large square table four feet across.
There were also two small chairs placed near the bath-room
and lobby doors respectively.
As these items were inventoried and carefully drawn
in their proper positions on the plan, Lamb realized that
the late Samuel Wiseman had obviously not planned for
the reception of visitors. The easy chair was undoubtedly
luxurious, but the only other seating-accommodation was
the two small chairs, which had straight backs and hard
seats in dull green hide.
In plotting the furniture on the ground plan, he paid
more attention to position than to the actual sizes of the
various pieces. The distribution was rather crowded. With
the exception of the larger table and the two small chairs,
all of it was grouped round the easy chair, which itself
stood near the right-hand window-looking from the
door-facing slantwise into the room. On its right was
the low circular table, bearing the telephone and a maga-
zine; behind it, and rather to its left, was the standard
lamp. To the left of the chair was the trolley, the lower
platform of which was littered with bottles, jars, and tins
of medicines and inhalants.
The only other features noted on the plan were the long
bronzed metal shelf, which ran the whole length of the
windows and was provided with air louvres over the
two radiators, one in the centre of each window, and the
long sheet metal ventilation trunk, six inches wide by a


56
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
foot deep, which traversed the whole length of the inner's
wall. The actual air inlet, covered by a metal lattice, was
exactly above the divan bed.
When all these items had been drawn on the plan,
Johnny tore the sheet from the block and proceeded to
make two vertical sections of the room across its width.
This job would have been easier if he had been working on
a large drawing-board with a T-square, so that he could
have squared each item across from the plan; but he was
a quick, neat draughtsman, and, though he found himself
growing impatient, the drawings were soon completed.
Each gave him a view of the room as though he had been
standing looking towards the lobby-entrance side wall in
the one case, and the bath-room side in the other.
The next proceeding was somewhat mysterious. He
began to make a minute examination of the whole room,
paying attention to all metalwork and to anything that
was dyed. The result of these examinations was entered
on the plan. The items to which he had drawn Cross's
attention-the faded curtains, the chair-covering, and the
blackened cigarette-box, which he now opened and found
to contain not ordinary cigarettes but a violent "asthmatic
blend” rich in evil-smelling stramonium, were all entered
on the plan and sections in the positions where they had
been found. He added many other details brought to light
by his systematic search.
So thorough was the examination that he frequently
returned to the table to draw enlarged sketches of various
details. Thus he made a bigger view of the bronzed
window-shelf, carefully marking on its various patches of
rust found, with a description of its intensity—"traces”,
"noticeable”, and in one instance "very marked”. He scru-
tinized the metal fittings on the dinner-trolley, jotting


INSPECTOR CROSS CONFIRMS A THEORY
57
down his observations; one of the forked wheel bearings
was heavily rusted.
All this, which was done with the methodical thorough-
ness and the unwearying precision and patience learnt in
the laboratory, occupied some considerable time. He stud-
ied the results for a brief interval, smiling in a curious
way. Then, carefully putting the plans together, he went
down on hands and knees and started to crawl over the
carpet, a heavy dark-green pile fitted to the room so that
the whole floor surface was covered.
He was interrupted in this undignified position by a
rap on the door; he looked up to see the constable peering
in and trying to hide a grin.
“Yes, Cozens, what is it?”
"Relief just arrived, Sergeant," the man said. “Just
wanted to know if you wished me to report anything."
"No, that's all right. I shall be here for some time yet.
Tell your relief I'm not to be disturbed unless it's urgent.
Who is he, by the way?"
“Foster."
"Right. Yes, that's all, I think. Good night and happy
dreams.”
"Good night, Sergeant.”
The man closed the door softly, leaving Johnny to his
work. After a few minutes' more crawling, he got to his
feet and stretched himself.
"Light's too tricky,” he murmured, the conversation
with the constable having apparently loosened his tongue
and reminded him of how long he had been silent. “I'll
have to look again in daylight. Why didn't I think of that
before?”
Nevertheless, he brought out the plan again and drew
two fairly large irregular shapes at positions that were


THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
vick Yecention
as then
carefully scaled off. On each he wrote lightly "Fading
marked”, adding a question mark in brackets.
Glancing round the room, Lamb decided that he had
done about all he had intended to do. He went into the
bath-room, which was tiled throughout, with a black bath
equipped with glittering stainless-steel taps and fittings.
He made a quick yet thorough inspection of everything,
paying particular attention to the lighter metal fittings,
such as the wire soap-tray across the bath, the metal sheath-
ing of the flexible tube attached to the shower and the rod
of the curtain in front of the shelf. If he was looking for
rust, he was disappointed. There was none to be found;
the place was as shining as if it had only just been built.
Having fetched his drawing-pad, he made a quick free-
hand sketch of the room, not troubling to scale up any-
thing, but putting the items in their relative positions. At
the foot of the sketch was written “Whole room free of
corrosion”. After one more look round, he returned to the
sitting-room and stood there, holding the pad, his head
resting on one hand.
The door opened again—this time without any prelim-
inary knock-and Inspector Cross came in. He greeted
Lamb with a heavy smile of tolerant amusement.
"Well, what've you found? Cozens came back and said
you were still here. I was just leaving, but thought I'd
come along and see how the magic was getting on, Got
anything yet?”
Johnny smiled a little wearily. It was past ten o'clock
and he was feeling tired. He had had nothing to eat since a
bun and a cup of tea earlier in the evening.
“I've got so much I hardly know what it all means.
There's something darned unnatural about this room. If
you put up two metal curtain rods, quite cheap ones, and


INSPECTOR CROSS CONFIRMS A THEORY
you fixed one in your bedroom and the other in your bath-
room, which would you say would rust through first?”
Cross looked at him in surprise.
“Still after rust? All right, I'll buy it. The one in the
bath-room, of course. It's damp there."
"Exactly what I should say. But in here the rod's rusted
through—when I tried to pull the curtain, the whole ca-
boodle fell on my head; in the bath-room, a rod of exactly
the same quality is as bright as a new pin. Isn't that un-
natural, sir?"
“Seems dashed funny to me, but I don't see what it
means. Do you?”
"I think I do, but I'm not sure yet. There's a lot of
work we've got to do here. We must start questioning
tomorrow. I want to talk to the valet and that manager
man-Holmes, isn't it?—and the maid who does this room.
That'll do for a start, I think, sir. What time are we due
at the solicitor-bird's place?”.
“Ten o'clock."
"Right. We can start after that.”
He looked up suddenly and grinned cheerfully.
“We ought to thank God for the Prillkins," he said.
“She's put us on a case that'll make our names. It's simply
bristling with possibilities, sir.”
"Glad you think so. I'm not even sure it's murder myself
yet. Are you?”
"That depends on what the doctors say. Have you had a
report yet?”
“Bless the man! Do you expect them to work all day and
all night? No; no full report. Carruthers has made a pre-
liminary examination, and he says that Pilchard's probably
right. The only thing he thinks queer is that the mucous
membrane and the whole of the breathing-passages are in-


60
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
flamed and seem to have been violently irritated by some-
thing. He says it might be poison, but he won't say defi-
nitely till they've made the autopsy."
"Inflamed did you say, sir? Inflamed?”
Cross nodded. To his profound astonishment, Johnny
suddenly started to execute a mild war dance.
“Then it is murder!” he cried, sobering down as he real-
ized that murder was not altogether a matter for rejoicing.
“That's what I expected,” he added modestly. “I can sleep
happy now, and I'm going straight home to do it.”
"You'd better. You look dog-tired.”
"I am. Can I leave you to lock up and put out the cat,
sir?"
"You insubordinate young puppy ..."
Cross's wrath was entirely wasted. Sergeant John Lamb
was hurrying along the corridor to the lift, blithely whis-
tling.


CHAPTER VII
MR. HERRIES MAKES A STATEMENT
THE City never appealed to Johnny Lamb. As soon as the
bus passed Temple Bar, a feeling of depression took hold of
him, and the further he travelled eastward, the more firmly
it gripped him. Fleet Street was not so bad; but the heart
of the City itself seemed to speak of everything in life he
loathed: grimy, airless streets, high finance and its connec-
tions, men who were model citizens in private life and ob-
served nothing but the law of the jungle in their business
affairs.
He had been up since half past six copying the plans and
enlarging his notes; he had set out to meet Cross in high
spirits, but by the time Leadenhall Street was reached they
had all evaporated, leaving behind a feeling of doubt and
gloom.
Cross was already waiting outside Fall House, where the
solicitors had their offices. He was pacing briskly up and
down the pavement; the autumn air was chilly, and Cross,
like most big men, was very susceptible to changes of tem-
perature. He greeted Lamb cheerily and led the way into
the long vaulted corridor with a tessellated floor that formed
the entrance to the building.
Lamb paused to examine the name-board just inside the
door, but Cross urged him on.
61


62
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"Third floor,” he said. “I've done that while I was wait-
ing. Did you oversleep yourself?”
Johnny shook his head. He did not feel like raillery, and
Cross, shrugging his shoulders, strode into the waiting lift
-an antiquated, hydraulic affair that jerked and shuddered
in the climb.
The office boy who took his card gazed at the two police
officers in awe. They were something new to him, superior
beings to whom the pert formula “I'll see if he's in” was
clearly inapplicable. He sped down the passage, unable to
resist glancing backwards at the two tall figures waiting by
the entrance.
It was a typical old-fashioned solicitors' suite. In the little
entrance lobby there was an upholstered bench that might
have been salved from some antique railway carriage. Pre-
sumably its imitation leather covering had once been ma-
roon; it was now an indeterminate grubby hue, relieved by
pink slashes where the material had cracked; here and
there, coils of horsehair erupted from craters in the surface.
Some repellent volumes stood on a shelf, while a two-
months-old copy of Truth, an auctioneer's sale catalogue
referring to a sale “forthcoming” six years earlier, and a
dusty, unused sheet of blotting-paper, lay on a small ink-
stained table, apparently for the entertainment of waiting
visitors.
There was no time for Cross and Lamb to sample these
pleasing diversions; the boy returned almost immediately
to say that Mr. Herries would see them at once. They found
his office rather more comfortable than the waiting-room; it
had the same kind of horsehair chairs—though in better
condition—and the same collection of out-of-date books.
Mr. Herries proved to be a lawyer of the old school. His


MR. HERRIES MAKES A STATEMENT
63
scanty grey hair was brushed carefully across a domed
head; the thinness of his lips was emphasized by the ab-
sence of moustache; his eyes were shrewd yet kindly. He
stood up as the two police officers entered, a tall man, well
above average height, though a slight stoop rather dis-
guised the fact. He was professionally dressed in a black
coat, striped trousers, and a black bow tie with a thin white
stripe in it.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said cordially. “This is a
case of one branch of the law coming to another. Well, well,
co-operation is a great thing, and I hope I can be of assist-
ance. Let me see”—he glanced at the card you are In-
spector Cross? Very glad to meet you, sir, very glad indeed.
And this gentleman?”
“My assistant, sir-Sergeant Lamb."
“How do you do? I knew a man named Lamb once in
connection with the police--but not in the uniform branch.”
He chuckled. “That was Sir David Lamb, the pathologist.
No relation, I suppose?” He chuckled again.
Lamb reddened slightly. He preferred to be no more than
any other sergeant when on duty. He would have shaken
his head and sought refuge in that white lie had not
Cross intervened.
"He is, sir. He's Sir David's son. Been in the Force for
some years now, and he'll make a good officer yet."
“Is that so? Dear me, dear me! I never thought I'd see
Sir David's son in the role of a detective. But each to his
taste, I suppose, Inspector, hey? It's better to be doing a job
you like than one you don't like just because it happened
to be your father's. But here am I gossiping away as though
none of us had any work to do, and I'm sure we're all busy
men. Now what is it I can do, Inspector? I think you men-


THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
tioned something about Mr. Wiseman on the telephone last
night. In what way can I assist?”
“We're investigating Mr. Wiseman's death, sir," Cross
replied. “As we know practically nothing about him, we
thought we would come along and see whether you could
help us."
"But I thought Mr. Wiseman's death was perfectly nat-
ural?” A shadow of anxiety passed across the solicitor's
face. "His medical man, Dr.-Dr. Pritchard, I think it
was "
"Pilchard, sir."
"So it was; Pilchard. Yes, he sent me a note by district
messenger boy informing me that Wiseman had died sud-
denly. He spoke as though it was not unexpected and that,
though sudden, it was no more than might have happened
at any time. And now you're investigating it?”
"That's so, sir. Certain allegations were made, and we
believe there may have been foul play. We don't say defi-
nitely yet that Mr. Wiseman was murdered, but—well, we
have strong suspicions.”
“Murdered? Good heavens, Inspector, this is an appalling
thing! Mr. Wiseman was an old client of mine-or rather
of the firm's, for I myself have only handled his business
during the past two or three years. Before that, my late
senior, Mr. Ronton, had dealt with him. Really, I can't
believe it."
He sat in silence for a short while, staring at his blotting-
pad. Then he looked up.
"What information can I give you, Inspector? I did not
know him intimately, but, of course, I know a great deal
about his business affairs and had formed some estimate of
his character. What can I tell you?"


MR. HERRIES MAKES A STATEMENT
65
“At the moment, we're quite in the dark about Mr. Wise-
man, and we want to know all about him. So far, all we
know is”-Cross produced a note-book and laid it, open at
a selected page, on his knee—“One: He lived at Sion House
and had done so since December of last year. Two: He
seemed pretty well off and might have been wealthy. Three:
He suffered from asthma and had a weak heart, and he
spent a great deal of time and money on having his ail-
ments attended to. Four: He had few, if any, friends, or at
least no one called on him. And, five, a young man, be-
lieved to be called Hugh Chandler, was apparently worry-
ing him for money.”
"Hugh Chandler?” The question came sharply from
Herries.
"That was the name mentioned, sir. We know nothing
about him either, except that he called two days before Mr.
Wiseman's death and apparently had a row with him. Do
you know him, sir? Your voice rather suggested ..."
“I have met him, and I know something of his affairs,"
Herries replied in a stern tone. “He was the ward of another
client of mine who died some five years ago—a personal
client whom I had known from my schooldays onwards. A
fine, very able man: Mr. Joshua Wright.”
"I see.”
Cross was glowing with pleasure now. He felt that he
had come to the right source for information, and that if
there was anything in the case he would find something
here to go upon. He beamed on the solicitor, who was,
however, oblivious of the fact. His good humour had evap-
orated, and he sat, with downcast head, scribbling on his
blotter.
"Suppose you tell us a little about Mr. Wiseman first,


MR. HERRIES MAKES A STATEMENT
large, but not that body to
even then he had asthma and was unable to devote himself
to it.”
Cross nodded.
"And who benefits under his will, sir?"
“The inevitable police question, Inspector!" Herries
smiled grimly. “This time, so far as his personal estate is
concerned, it won't be any help to you. Mr. Wiseman, hav-
ing no relative left, has bequeathed the whole of his for-
tune to the Asthma Research Council. The sum involved is
large, but not sufficient, I think, to induce the distinguished
members of that body to- "
“Quite so." Cross wanted facts, and facts only. Where
Lamb, with his scientific training and outlook, sought data
in inanimate things, questioning them till their meaning
was revealed, Cross was the expert in leading along wit-
nesses to tell all they knew; in that lay his recognized ability
as a police officer.
"I notice you said, sir, 'So far as his personal estate is con-
cerned'. I take it there is something else involved as well.”
"I wondered if you'd notice that, Inspector. There is;
though nothing so large. This is where Hugh Chandler
comes into it. The whole thing was a muddle from end to
facts, and facts, sought data
end.”
Herries smoothed his scanty hair and settled lower in his
chair.
“Wiseman had a cousin on his mother'side-Joshua
Wright, whom I mentioned just now as a client of my own.
Wright was not rich to start with, but he came of yeoman
stock and he was a worker. In his business life he amassed
an estate that was proved at more than fifty thousand
pounds, entirely through his own efforts. He started with a
small bakery shop, and he built it up into a concern with


MR. HERRIES MAKES A STATEMENT
“I can.” Herries shot the sergeant a keen glance. “He
took his A.R.C.Sc., of course, and also the London B.Sc.,
with honours in chemistry, I think; later he became an
Associate of the Institute of Chemistry and an Associate
Member of the Institution of Chemical Engineers. I can
give you all these facts because Wright was fond of boast-
ing about it. ‘My boy Hugh,' he used to say, 'is a better
man than I am. Look at all the letters he's got after his
name'-and then he would reel off the whole list. He was
very proud of Hugh.”
"Thank you, sir.” Johnny sat back in his chair, a little
smile in the corners of his mouth.
“I can't tell you exactly what his work was, but I know
it was some sort of chemical engineering. Wright used to
say he wasn't a pure chemist, but a chemical engineer. I'm
afraid I didn't quite see the point myself, but these technical
nieties are beyond me.”
"I think you've disposed of Lamb's question very fully,
sir,” Cross interposed. “Can we go back to the main story
now?”
“Certainly, Inspector. Wright intended to back Hugh to
the utmost. He could never believe that he might die before
the boy was well on his feet. I want you to understand this
point: by help, he meant encouragement, and, if necessary,
financial assistance on business lines, but there was to be no
spoon-feeding. Because of that he drew up a will, the weak-
ness of which I pointed out very decidedly to him. He in-
sisted that it should stand. And that is where Wiseman
reappears."
Cross sighed with relief. The statement seemed to him
to have been losing direction somewhat. He had been seek-
ing for a tactful hint.
"Briefly, he left his money in trust for Hugh, with Wise-


70
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
man as life beneficiary; that is to say, Wiseman was to draw
the income from the fifty thousand pounds odd, which was
to go absolutely to Hugh on Wiseman's death. The only
special provision was that Wiseman during his lifetime was
to pay Hugh one hundred and fifty a year in quarterly in-
stalments. Wright told me this made Hugh safe but didn't
take away the incentive to work. He'd seen too much of
young men who had been ruined by private incomes, and
he wanted to preserve Hugh from that, the more so as the
boy hadn't a business head and was rather weak willed.”
“It seems a curious will to me,” Cross remarked, “espe-
cially as he had intended to back his nephew if he'd lived."
“That's what I told Wright. But Wright replied that, in
the first place, he wouldn't die before Hugh was established,
and, in the second, that Wiseman would give help if the
need arose. He didn't know very much about his cousin,
Wiseman. For myself, I didn't anticipate that, once Wise-
man had laid hands on the money, any help would be
forthcoming from that quarter."
“Do you know what happened to Hugh Chandler after
Mr. Wright died?”
“No. I saw him and explained the will to him. He was
very bitter about it and seemed to resent Wiseman's 'intru-
sion' as he called it very much indeed—as was not unnat-
ural. He told me simply that he would get on with his
work whatever happened. The only contact with him since
has been that Wiseman instructed us, as his solicitors, to
pay Hugh the yearly income, so that he need have no rela-
tions with the boy. It was clear that Wright's expectations
of Wiseman's helping Hugh were not going to be realized.”
“Then you can tell us where Mr. Chandler is to be
found?”


MR. HERRIES MAKES A STATEMENT
71
becall be a comparatively
was grim and cause his features.
“No, I'm afraid not. Though we shall have to find out,
because we shall have to make over the estate to him now.
He'll be a comparatively wealthy man.”
"He will.” Cross's tone was grim and caused Herries to
look up; a sudden cloud again passed over his features.
"But where do you send the money?”
“Until a couple of years ago, we sent it to various ad-
dresses of which Hugh advised us. Then he wrote to us
and told us to pay the money to the Shoe Lane branch of
the Metropolitan and Provinces Bank for the credit of a
Mr. Walter Brimsgrove, who, he said, was acting as his
business agent. I wrote to him personally and suggested
this was a rather odd arrangement; he replied-very for-
mally—that those were his instructions and he wanted them
attended to, and that we could accept the bank's receipt as
full satisfaction.”
“That's where you sent the last remittance, I suppose?
When was that?”
"That would be on July 1. The sum is paid in four
quarterly instalments on the first day of January, April,
July, and October. Another would have been due in four
days."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Herries. We're very much
obliged to you, and I don't think we need trouble you
further."
Cross rose to his feet, Johnny Lamb, who was apparently
deep in thought, following his example. Herries also rose
from his chair. He seemed as though he wanted to say
something.
“Oh, Inspector," he said at last. “There's one more thing
I'd like to add. I have been very frank with you and dis-
cussed my clients in a manner that is, perhaps, not alto-


THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
gether professional. I look on this as an occasion of privi-
lege, and I am sure you will respect my confidence so far as
your duty to the law admits. We are fellow servants in
that,” he added with a touch of dignity. “I want to ask if
you will be frank with me. Do you believe there is any
truth in your suggestion that Wiseman was murdered?”
Cross hesitated for a minute or so, gently rubbing his
nose. Then he answered slowly.
"It's still too early to say either yes or no, sir. Certain
statements have been made, and it's our duty to investigate
them. That's why we're here. I may say that what you've
told us may help us very considerably in our work. I'd like
to thank you again, sir-you can rely entirely on our dis-
cretion.”
If Cross thought to sidetrack the solicitor by this broad-
side, he was mistaken; Herries seized on the evasion.
"I know I have no right to ask, but do those statements
implicate any specific person?”
The inspector rubbed his nose a little harder. He had
hoped to avoid that question.
"Well, sir," he said slowly, after thinking hard. “You've
been frank with us, and I will be frank with you. They do;
and the person concerned is Hugh Chandler. Of course,
we've no proof either way yet," he hastened to add.
“Hugh Chandler.” The lawyer repeated the name
thoughtfully. “H’m. Yes, I was afraid it would be that. God
grant I haven't helped to put a rope round his neck,” he
concluded, with real sincerity.
There was an embarrassed silence, broken by Herries.
"Well, I mustn't detain you, gentlemen,” he said, shaking
hands and opening the door. “Call on me again if you feel
I can help. We men of law must not let personal feelings
stand in the way of duty."


MR. HERRIES MAKES A STATEMENT
73
As the door closed behind them, he dropped into his chair
and sat staring into space.
"Hugh Chandler. Who else? And I drew up that will!”
He pulled himself together with an effort and rang the
bell sharply for his personal clerk.


SERGEANT LAMB ASKS SOME QUESTIONS
“Famed for 'em,” Johnny replied, grinning. “Roast an
ox whole for you if you feel that way inclined.”
He struck off to his left and brought up at a small shop
at the far end of one of those mysterious alleys which lattice
the City streets like rabbit holes on the Downs. Cross settled
his large body comfortably at the table, looking round with
satisfaction.
“Seems all right,” he commented. “It's quiet too. We can
talk if we want to."
"Too early for the mob,” Johnny said. “In an hour's time,
this place will be filled with pimply seedlings whose great-
est ambition in life is to attain to the blessed state when they
may swindle the public by courtesy of the law of respect for
silk hats and big bank balances.”
Cross looked at his assistant queerly.
“Not feeling yourself today, are you, Lamb? Anything
worrying you?”
"No, I'm all right. It's just the City. I always get like
this when I come down here."
The inspector ordered a steak and chips with a Guinness.
Johnny confined himself to brown bread, cream cheese, and
coffee. No believer in big meals at any time, he avoided them
most of all in the middle of the day. They made him too
sleepy.
“That was a useful start this morning," Cross remarked
when the food had been set before them. “Herries gave us a
lot of useful information, and we know now a bit more
where we stand. If anyone did murder Wiseman-mind
you, I'm not wholly convinced yet—that fellow Chandler
seems to have had motive enough and probably the inclina-
tion. Some people are crazy the way they draft their wills,"
he added peevishly. "Incitements to murder, many of 'em,
and you don't know it till the fools are beyond your reach.”


76
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“If someone didn't do these things now and again, we'd
all be out of business.” Johnny smiled as he spoke. “They
serve a useful purpose, if only to keep our wits sharp."
"I don't know," Cross replied absently; he was becoming
absorbed in the delights of his meal. “I'd rather let my wits
grow rusty than have them polished by some poor devil's
death. You're different-you were brought up on corpses
and post-mortems."
“H'm. Let's get back to the business in hand. What do
we do now? I worked up my plans this morning before I
came on duty, and I've quite a lot to tell you. To my mind,
it's not only murder, but damned ingenious murder; and I
think I know how it was done. But it's a long way from
‘how' to 'who.' Shall I tell you about it now?"
Cross paused, with a laden fork in mid-air, considering.
“No,” he decided. “Not yet. We ought to find out more
of the facts of the case before you start your theorizing. We
might unearth something that'd blow your theory sky high,
whatever it is, and I'd rather have an open mind until we
get the background filled in. I think we'd better go straight
on to the flat and question the neighbours and the servants.
Now that we know something about Wiseman and his
affairs, we'll be able to get a line to start on. You say you're
sure it's murder?”
“As sure as I'm here."
"I'll take your word for it. We'll start on the Sion House
people; then we'll have to look up this fellow Chandler.
Seems a queer sort of chap from what Herries said. Scien-
tists are always a bit off in the head, if you ask me." He
looked hard at Johnny, who grimaced in acknowledgement
of this sally. “I bet he was itching for old Wiseman to get
out of the way. You really can't wonder at it.”
A large hunk of bread and cheese had rounded off Cross's


78
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
use his office for interviews did not meet with a ready re-
sponse. The determined expression on the inspector's face,
however, convinced him it was better to acquiesce. He stood
by, apparently waiting for instructions, but prepared to do
no more than he was asked.
"Perhaps I can sit at your desk, Mr. Holmes?" Cross be-
gan, settling himself without waiting for permission. “Now,
first of all, there are one or two questions I must ask you.
Mr. Wiseman had been here since the building opened,
hadn't he? Exactly how long was that?”
“We opened last December—ten months ago. Mr. Wise-
man took Number 604 and was the first to move into that
section of the west wing.”
“When did the others come?" Cross consulted his note-
book, in which he had made a précis of Hunt's report.
“There are three more in that section, aren't there?”
“Yes. Do you want the exact dates? I shall have to turn
up the records if you do, but I can tell you this much from
memory: General Railton-Railton moved into Number 601
a few days after Mr. Wiseman; Miss Prillkins came at the
New Year-she's in Number 603—and Mr. Nimmo didn't
occupy his flat, Number 602, until February, I think, though
it was ready for him much earlier.”
"Thank you. I think that'll do for the present. Can you
tell me if they were friendly at all?”
"I hardly think they were friendly. They talked to each
other when they met, and they played bridge together, I
believe. Mr. Nimmo and the General sometimes played
chess, I know. But they were all rather standoffish, though
Miss Prillkins tried her utmost to make a little circle round.
her. The valet, Johnson, could tell you more about them."
“We'll see him later. Just one other question, Mr. Holmes,
if you don't mind. What sort of a tenant was Mr. Wise-
memory
after Mr. Wisher 603—and


SERGEANT LAMB ASKS SOME QUESTIONS 79
man? Did he give any trouble-I mean, upset the servants
or anything like that?”
"He was a bit sharp with them at times. Occasionally he
would come in here and protest about the draught, as he
called it, in the corridors and the halls. But he kept himself
to himself very much.”
"Thank you. Now can I see the valet, Johnson?” Cross
referred to his note-book again. "He found the body."
The valet was summoned and stood respectfully in front
of Cross.
“How long have you been valet here?” he asked.
"Since the house opened, sir. I came from the Pennant
Club in Piccadilly."
“Always on the same rooms here?”
“Yes, sir. The one-four block, west sixth, we call it. The
three gentlemen and the lady I've done for since they came.
Leastwise, the maid has had to help me with Miss Prill-
kins, sir; being a spinster, she didn't always like a man
bringing in her meals.” He grinned sheepishly.
“Quite so. What sort of a man did you find Mr. Wise-
man?”
Johnson shot a quick glance at Holmes and hesitated, as
he had when Hunt had interviewed him.
"Speak exactly what's in your mind, Johnson," Cross
urged softly.
“Yes, sir. He didn't give trouble on the whole, sir. I've
known worse gentlemen'n him. But he was a bit ratty, sir.
When he had his attacks—and they were fair dreadful, sir
- he was apt to snap your head off. Bit particular about his
food too; used to have special things sent up, and if they
wasn't quite right, he didn't hesitate to say so."
"On the whole he wasn't too bad, then?”
“No, sir. A bit mean, perhaps. But he was a sick man, and


80
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
I made allowances.” He said this with an air of conscious
virtue.
“Very proper of you, Johnson.” Cross smothered a smile.
“Now, you found Mr. Wiseman's body, I think. When was
that?"
“ 'Bout half-past eight, sir. I went in to see whether he
was ready for his breakfast, and he was lying there huddled
in his chair, dead as dead. Give me a rare turn."
As the excitement of that morning came back to him,
the man's eyes stared straight in front of him and the care-
ful intonation of the valet left him.
"Did you examine him?"
"No, sir. I was that took aback I didn't know what to
do. I slammed the door and run to the lift and I presses
the bell and keeps on pressin' it till Albert come up in the
lift."
“Then what?"
"I took Albert along and showed him the body, sir, and
told him to wait outside the door whilst I called up Dr.
Pilchard—I knew he was Mr. Wiseman's doctor—and when
the doctor arrived, I took him up to the flat and stayed
there with him until Mr. Holmes came and sent me away."
“What did Dr. Pilchard do? Was he surprised?"
"No, sir. Seemed to be expecting it, like. Said he'd been
ing it a long times the last time you "Earlier in the
“Yes, I see. When was the last time you saw Mr. Wise-
man alive?” Cross glanced at the note-book. “Earlier in the
morning, wasn't it?”
“Yes, sir. A cup o' tea, China and weak, at seven o'clock
prompt, was Mr. Wiseman's order. I took it to him, and he
was sitting up in his bed with his dressing-gown on."
“Did he look ill?”
"Not more'n I've seen him look before. Peaked about the


SERGEANT LAMB ASKS SOME QUESTIONS 81
face, sir, and drawn. Looked as though he had had another
of his bad nights."
"Did he say anything?"
“He muttered something about why was I late with the
tea, he'd been waiting half an hour for it, but it was just
striking seven as I went in, sir. Then he had a coughing fit
and he waved me out.”
Johnny Lamb stirred in his chair and looked at Cross in-
quiringly. The inspector nodded.
“Tell me, Johnson," Lamb asked. “When you went in, did
you notice anything strange about the air? Was there any
special smell about it?”
Johnson gazed at him in open-mouthed surprise.
“Lor bless you, sir! His room was always full o'smells.
He used to smoke all sorts of things for his asthma, and
you could 'a' cut the air with a knife sometimes.”
“Yes, of course. But you didn't notice any new smell that
morning?"
Johnson thought for a moment.
“Now you come to mention it, sir, I believe I did. I re-
marked to Albert when I took him in—that's the lift-man
--that it stunk o' tube stations, and I noticed it the night
before because it seemed somehow a cleaner smell, if you
get my meaning, than those cigarettes of his. I thought it
was some new medicine, sir, but I didn't take much notice.
Mr. Wiseman was a rare one for trying out new medicines.”
“That's very interesting, Johnson. You can't remember
when you first noticed the smell?”
"Can't say as I do, sir. I think it was the Wednesday, but
I couldn't be sure."
"Just one more thing. I wonder if you can tell me when
that curtain rod was put up in the room—the one the
window curtains slide along?”.


82
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
The valet's look of astonishment was too much even for
Cross, who, though he could not see the point of these ques-
tions, smiled broadly.
"Funny you should ask that, sir. In the ordinary way I
couldn't have answered, but it happens I can. The windows
here are rigged with those railway things and you pull the
curtains along by a cord at the side. About three weeks
ago Mr. Wiseman was in a fair stew. 'Take that damned
thing down,' he says, “and put up an honest rod. I get all
tied up in the cords.' When he was took bad, sir, he used
to fumble a lot and couldn't seem to control his hands. So
I had a plain rod put in- "
Holmes interrupted.
“The order is on our files. Each tenant has a book of
green forms for jobs of that kind and signs one for each
thing he wants done. Wait a moment.” He pulled out a
drawer in a steel filing-cabinet and took out a green folder.
“Yes, here we are.” He glanced at the calendar. “Just over
three weeks ago. He made a note that the job was to be
done as quickly and as cheaply as possible.”
"Thank you.” Lamb leant back in his chair again, as if
he had finished. Suddenly he sat up again.
“Yes," he said slowly. “There is just one more thing.
Sorry to be such a nuisance, Johnson.”
“Not at all, sir. Only too glad to help.”
“Did Mr. Wiseman ever say anything about that Persian
rug of his? I mean, did he ever say he put any special value
on it?"
Johnson paused to consider.
“Yes, sir, he did, when he moved in. He told me that it
was very valuable and that it was something special of his,
and I was to tell the maid not to put the vacuum cleaner on


THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"Oh yes, sir; we have to get the rooms all done by mid-
day at latest."
“I see. How was he then?"
"Same as usual, sir. Coughing and spluttering as he al-
ways did.”
"Did he seem specially bad?”.
“No, sir. Not that I noticed, but he was always so bad,
you wouldn't notice unless you were told.”
“It was just an ordinary morning, then?"
“Yes, sir.” She suddenly stopped, her mouth open. “There
was one thing, sir, I don't know if it's worth mentioning,
but if it isn't, perhaps you'll stop me ".
“We want to know everything, Dolly, no matter what
it is.”
“He asked me if I'd go down to the chemist's in the hall,
sir, and buy him a bottle of iodine. He said he'd cut his
hand on his razor and would I get him some iodine as he
didn't want to go down, and he gave me a ten-shilling note.
He'd got his thumb wrapped up in a bit of rag."
“And did you?”
“Of course I did, sir, and he gave me sixpence."
“Well, that's all, unless you want to ask anything, Lamb."
"If you don't mind. Dolly, Johnson has been telling us
that Mr. Wiseman gave special orders about cleaning his
Persian rug. Did he take great care of it?"
"Oh yes, sir, he did. He gave me a long lecture when he
moved in, all about how I wasn't to touch it without he was
there, and he made me so scared I didn't want to touch it
at all. I tried the vac. on it when he was there once, and he
nearly went crazy, said it was too strong or something, and
then he bought one of those little machines they sell for
cleaning curtains and clothes—you know, sir, just a bag and
a nozzle and I used to use that while he watched me.”


SERGEANT LAMB ASKS SOME QUESTIONS
85
"Thank you. Mr. Wiseman didn't like his windows open,
did he? Did you ever open them?”
“Oh yes, sir, when he wasn't there, though he would've
been cross if he'd known. But I had to air the room, sir, and
I used to close them when I'd finished so that it was all
right for him when he came back.”
“But Mr. Wiseman was there on Wednesday, and you
didn't open the windows?”
"No, sir. I wanted to the place was so thick with his
smoke-but I didn't dare.”
“That's understandable. Did you notice any particular
smell that morning?"
“Oh no, sir. I wouldn't. All his medicines smelt alike to
me, and I shouldn't have noticed if there had been anything
new."
"No, I don't suppose you would. Mr. Wiseman didn't
like fresh air, but did he like sunlight? I mean, did he
have his curtains drawn across when the sun shone in the
room, or did he leave them back?”
"Oh, he was very funny about sun, sir. Fussy I called it.
He told me always to draw the curtains if he wasn't in so
that the sun wouldn't fade the carpet. Once I felt them
open, sir, and the sun came out, and it was hot sun in
August. He gave me a rare blowing up."
“I expect you got over that all right.” Johnny smiled as
he had smiled at Johnson; the girl immediately responded.
“Thank you very much, Dolly. We shan't forget your help.”
“Thank you, sir. Can I go now?"
Cross nodded. As the girl left the room, he glanced
sharply at Lamb, who was wearing a smile of unusual self-
satisfaction. There was an eagerness in his look that sur-
prised even the phlegmatic inspector, who now rose to his
feet and looked at Holmes.


86
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“I think that's all for the moment, Mr. Holmes.” He re-
ferred to his notes and sat down again. “No, there's the
liftman, Albert. Is that his surname or his christian name?"
"That's his christian name,” Holmes replied. “He's Albert
Black.”
"Can we see him, please?".
Holmes went away and returned in a very short time
accompanied by the liftman, who was now bursting with
importance. He had little to add to what the others had said.
He told how Johnson had broken the news and left him on
guard, and of the “rare turn” the whole business gave him.
He tried to expand on this at some length, but Cross, firm
but kindly, suppressed the outburst. Johnny asked no ques-
tions; apparently he was interested in the room alone.
This time, Cross decided he had finished, and left the
office to return to the flat, with Johnny at his heels. Holmes
had little to say, accepted Cross's thanks with an ungracious
air, and merely grunted when he was told that some more
questions might have to be asked.
"We shall have to talk to Wiseman's three neighbours,"
Cross remarked. “Are they likely to be in?"
“Mr. Nimmo will be, and the General, I expect," was
the reply. "I can't say about Miss Prillkins.”
“We'll take our chance. Come on, Lamb.”
They walked to the lift, where Albert's understudy, a
callow youth with aggressive front teeth, bore them aloft in
stony silence.


88
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
to the belief that a case was getting nowhere unless ex-
aminations were always going on.
"Now look here." Johnny plunged his hand into a large
inner pocket of his raincoat and brought out a big envelope
containing a folded sheet of tracing-cloth. “This is a tracing
of my plans; it's not very finished, but it's good enough and
shows all the main points. Look, sir.” He spread out the
sheet on the table. “This is a plan view of the room, with
all the furniture in its right positions, and these are two
sections taken across the breadth of the room. I might do a
section along the length later, but I don't think it's neces-
sary."
He took a pencil from his coat pocket to use as a pointer.
“Each of these red patches indicates rust, and each of the
blue ones shows fading or bleaching of some fabric. You
remember I pointed out how some of the things had faded.”
Cross nodded assent.
“Well, sir, as you can see, I've marked each patch with
its condition-whether the fading or rusting was well
marked, just medium, or merely traces. It's all very syste-
matic."
“And what does it mean?”
Johnny grinned in spite of himself. Cross was interested
not so much in the details as in the final result, and he was
quite ready to dismiss the whole thing as moonshine.
"It shows this, sir. There was some agent in this room
that caused quite abnormal rusting and fading. You remem-
ber what I told you last night about the curtain rod in here,
and how a similar one in the bath-room hadn't rusted?"
“Yes."
“Well, that's not right. Corrosion-or oxidation to be
precise-ought to occur where the most damp is, if things



1 Room
xld'high
.0.9
2
SMOONIM
-.0.91
0.9
Standard, La
Low Table
F = Foding
Ro Rusting
Table
x Easy Chair
3'0'se
20'0
4'0ʻsq.
Trolley
Small Chau
18" są
.
STO.LOBBY |
Dovan Bed
Small Chair
18*sq.
176
BATHROOM
u
a
F
F
AIR INI?
Plon of the Rusted Room


90
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
are normal. But with these radiators full on, this room is the
drier, and it's here that the rusting is worst.”
"Sounds a bit queer, certainly."
“Now, sir, remember what Johnson and Dolly said. Wise-
man treasured that Persian rug like a choice bloom. You
remember I deduced that from the fact it was on the wall.”
“That was only a guess, and it turned out lucky.”
"You shock me, sir! He bought a special low-power
vacuum cleaner so that the pile shouldn't be damaged. It
was cleaned under his own supervision. But look at it-
the colours are black; in fact, the design's almost dis-
appeared.”
The inspector glanced at the rug and noted what Johnny
pointed out. He nodded again.
“Yes. That's certainly queer as well.”
“To return to the rod. It wasn't much more than three
weeks old. It was chromium-plated, though only cheaply
done, and it would come from stock in fairly good condi-
tion. The rod in the bath-room from the same piece shows
no signs of rust at all.”
“You've already said that.”
Johnny sighed.
“My gems of thought are dimmed, sir. What I want to
prove is that the rod wasn't rusted when it was put up and
so the rusting must have occurred after it was installed in
this room.”
"I'll give you that. Don't labour the point.”
Cross was not trying to pour cold water on Johnny's ideas,
but merely checking and testing every point. If science had
to be brought into the case, he wanted to make sure that it
convinced him, an ordinary, average man, as it might have
to convince a jury of ordinary, average men and women.


THE DOCTOR'S REPORT DISPELS A DOUBT
91
"Good.” Johnny took a deep breath and continued.
"Then there's the fading of the furnishing fabrics and the
carpet. The curtains and the chair covering were Faversham
fadeless fabric, which, as you know, sir, is proof against
ordinary fading, at any rate for the period it's been here-
ten months at the outside. But it's quite dull, and Dolly
told us Wiseman hated the sun almost as much as he hated
fresh air.”
He paused. Cross said nothing, but waited.
“The rod by itself might have been explained by chance.
One length of Faversham fabric might be a dud, but not all
that's in here, and old Wiseman seems the type of man who
would have sent it back to the makers and raised hell if
there'd be so much wrong. The rug by itself might also be
chance. Then there's the carpet, the silver cigarette-box, the
castor on the trolley-wagon, and the fading on the bed-
spread.” He reeled off the list excitedly.
“I suppose you mean that the combination makes it im-
possible unless there was something in the room to cause it
-something unusual?"
“Yes, sir."
“What has that to do with Wiseman's death?"
“Everything, as I see it. One more detail before we go on.
Johnson described the smell he noticed. He described it as
like tube stations. And there is yet another point. The
iodine that Dolly got the morning before Wiseman's death.
It was fresh, but it had crystallized out. I haven't examined
it yet, but I think I know what I shall find. I'll leave it out
for the present as I'm not sure.”
Cross shook his head in bewilderment. He believed in
Johnny and was certain in his own mind that the sergeant
had unearthed something. But he did not wish, for the


92
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
sake of his own reputation and of Johnny's future one, that
he should be carried away by brilliant guessing. He decided
to continue his role of unimpressed critic.
“What does all this mean, exactly?”
"I'll tell you what I think it means in a minute, sir. Let's
have all the facts first. Isn't that the proper method ?”
Cross grinned, amused at the way in which his own atti-
tude was turned against him.
"I want you to look at these plans again, sir. What do we
see?” he asked oracularly. “We see that there are two zones.
In one all things likely to fade or rust are affected to some
extent. In the other, there is practically no fading or rust-
ing at all. In between them there's a border line where the
greatest fading and rusting occur. Just look for yourself,
sir."
He pointed out the details to the inspector, who noted
them without comment.
“Well?” he asked, as Johnny remained silent.
“The rusting zone is rather lower in the room than the
non-rusting one in the sections, and it's in the middle on
the plan, while the edges are more or less clear. The centre
of the zone is round about the bed—where Wiseman was
lying. We have Johnson's word for that; he was there at
seven and moved later.”
“Yes. Go on.” This seemed significant to Cross.
“Therefore Wiseman was in the thick of it. You see, sir,
how my reasoning takes shape? If we tot up all these things
and ask ourselves what might have caused them-fading,
rusting, and a smell like tube stations—we find the answer
is-no, sir, not a lemon-ozonel”.
He took a step backward, a broad smile on his face.
· Cross glanced up sharply, ignoring Johnny's gesture.


THE DOCTOR'S REPORT DISPELS A DOUBT
93
“Ozone?” he queried, puzzled. “There's nothing wrong
about ozone, is there? I always thought it was the stuff in
seaside air that did you good.”
Lamb nodded.
“That's the general idea, sir, though it hasn't much foun-
dation. It's more likely to be hydrogen peroxide. But if
ozone is present in the air in very, very small quantities, it
acts as a deodorant and eats up bad smells. That's why it's
used for ventilation in tube stations, though very rarely
elsewhere. It destroys certain organisms, too, and is used
for treating water for drinking-purposes and deodorizing
sewage. In larger quantities, it can do you a great deal of
harm, and, if I'm right, it's done old Wiseman far too
much. One part in twenty thousand parts of air irritates the
mucous membrane and the breathing-passages. In the case
of an asthmatic like Wiseman, it'd produce paroxysms of
coughing that'd prove fatal. That was how the old boy was
due to die, according to his doctor; the ozone would just
speed things up. You see, sir,” he concluded, “ozone's like a
good many things, such as women and wine; a little's all
right, but too much plays merry hell.”
The older man grunted. He felt that this was getting
out of his depth; but he faced the issue manfully, for he
felt that, at any rate, Johnny had produced a theory.
"What is it, anyway?” he asked.
"Ozone,” Johnny declaimed, gesturing extravagantly, “is
an allotropic form of oxygen.” Cross made a wry face. “It's
oxygen gone gay, as you might put it. A molecule of ordi-
nary oxygen contains two atoms of oxygen-that's why
chemists call it 02—and they always go about together. But
ozone's greedy; it's made up of three atoms of oxygen-
our little chemist friends call it O3. You know the old gag:


94
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
'Two's company, three's a row'? Well, that's ozone. It
gobbles up things, rusts iron far too quickly, and turns dyes
black, especially vegetable dyes like those on the Persian
rug. This room shouts ozone all over it. Just take a look
round, sir, and consider it all in the light of what I've said.”
He had dropped his bantering manner and become seri-
ous. Cross's eyes roved over the room. At length he turned
to Johnny
"Your theory, then, is this: Someone put ozone in this
room, Wiseman breathed it, it upset him, and he fuffed."
He was trying to bring the thing down to essentials and to
a form he could grasp. “But how, man?” he broke out after
a pause. “How? Where did it come from? And "
“Just a moment, sir. I don't know just how, yet; that's
still puzzling me a bit. But I think we can say where it
came from. Remember what my plans show—the centre of
the rusting zone was Wiseman's bed. Look, sir, what's just
above the bed.”
Cross's eyes travelled upwards; suddenly they grew wide.
“The air inlet? Yes, that's a suggestion. Could it be
proved?”
“We can see, sir. I haven't examined it yet, but if ozone
was introduced that way, it would be very strong up there,
and it should have rusted the metal quite a lot. Let's have a
look.”
He pulled the divan bed from the wall, fetched a chair,
and clambered up on it.
"No doubt about it, sir,” he called eagerly. "It's coated
with rust.” He climbed down, agog with excitement. "Have
a look yourself, sir.”
Cross looked at the chair, and, remembering his large
bulk, shook his head.
"I'll take your word for it, Lamb. I think you've made


THE DOCTOR'S REPORT DISPELS A DOUBT
out your case, but there are two questions I'd like to ask.
Couldn't these effects come from something else—some-
thing in Wiseman's medicines, say, and he took an over-
dose? And if ozone is used for air-conditioning, as you say
it is on the tubes, couldn't it be used here and too much
have got in?"
"Individually, perhaps, we might have got the rust and
fading from other causes, but the smell is conclusive. Quite
a little makes the characteristic smell-you notice it when
an electric motor is running, due to the sparking, as I
expect you know; about one part in five hundred thousand
of air causes the smell. And there's the point that Johnson
noticed it. It would destroy the other smells and assert itself.
“About the other point, we must find out about this air
system to see if it's ozonized. Even if it is, I doubt whether
the whole of the ozone made to ventilate the entire build-
ing would be sufficient to be dangerous. No, sir,” he added
soberly, “if ozone was here, and I think we've proved it, it
came here for a purpose—and that purpose was to bump
off Wiseman.”
There was silence for a long time. Cross was trying to
see the whole significance of these revelations and decided
the next move. Johnny, his point made, was experiencing a
sense of reaction that was rather disappointing. It did not
seem to have brought them any nearer the solution of the
mystery. He still could not see how the ozone had been
brought into Sion House, and Cross's next question came
almost as a relief to him, for it provided an opportunity to
discuss it.
“We've got to get everything clear before we make any
fresh move," the inspector said at last. "How much ozone
would be needed to kill Wiseman?”
"Let's see.” Johnny fumbled in his pocket and produced


96
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
a circular watch slide-rule. “This room is twenty feet by
fifteen by ten," he murmured, referring to his plan. He
worked the slide-rule rapidly. “That means it contains three
thousand cubic feet of air. Let's assume that it was the
minimum fatal proportion—that's three thousand divided
by twenty thousand. I can do that in my head—it's three-
twentieths of a cubic foot. Let's call it four-twentieths, or a
fifth, to be on the safe side. What's that in cubic inches?”
He worked the slide-rule again. “H'm. Three-forty-five
point something. I think three hundred and forty-five cubic
inches is good enough, sir.”
“And how much is that?"
Johnny grinned; he knew there was nothing so difficult
to visualize as so many cubic inches.
"Hard to say, sir. It might, I think, have been brought
along in a pressure cylinder, like they use for oxygen in
hospitals. But let's assume it was at atmospheric pressure.
It'd go in"-once again the slide-rule worked, to Cross's
faint amusement; a detective with a slide-rule was a new
experience to him—"let's say a cylinder six inches diameter
and twelve inches long: Not a very big thing; it could
easily be hidden in a workman's toolbag."
"H'm. It's a little fantastic that way, isn't it?”.
A sudden doubt assailed Johnny, he hastened to confess.
“There's one other thing we mustn't forget. That quan-
tity of ozone would have to be introduced if the air was
still. But this room is air-conditioned, sir, and the air would
be on the move all the time. So there'd have to be much
more to allow for the leakage. It'd be a fair-sized cylinder
if it came that way."
"It would. Any other suggestions?”
“Well, the size of the cylinder could be reduced if the gas
was put under pressure. You could decide on the size of the


THE DOCTOR'S REPORT DISPELS A DOUBT 97
cylinder first, and, within limits, cram as much as you
wanted into it under pressure. But of course there'd be the
danger of an explosion.”
He was beginning to feel very doubtful of his theory
now. This practical difficulty was a big one whose solution
he could not see. Cross did not like the look of things.
“You've built up a theory, Lamb,” he remarked. “On the
face of it, it's sound, and I'm not disputing your chemical
knowledge—I couldn't. If we assume Wiseman was mur-
dered, you've given an explanation, but there's still the diffi-
culty of bringing the ozone here. We'll have to find out
how it might be done. We've got to explain all this rusting
and fading somehow. You're quite sure of your facts, aren't
you?”
"Quite, sir.” Johnny was feeling unhappy now. "There
are all sorts of technical points that confirm it; I'll explain
if you like "
"No, leave that for now. The question is: What do we
do next?"
Johnny looked up suddenly.
"The medical report, sir! We haven't had it yet, and it
may give some confirmation."
“Yes, that's an idea. I'll get on to the coroner's officer and
see if he's got it. Perhaps he can send it round if it's
arrived."
He spent a few minutes on the telephone. Eventually he
announced that the report had been in for half an hour and
would be sent round without delay. They sat down to wait.
“Whatever we do, sir,” Lamb said, after a long period of
silence, “I think we ought to check up on the ventilation
system. I suggest the best way would be to see the makers.
The plans may throw some light on the problem. Why


THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
didn't I think of the circulation?” he added, more to him-
self than to Cross.
“That's all right, my boy. You'll get used to having your
theories knocked endwise when you've been at it as long as
I have. It's good for you-teaches you that theorizing by
itself won't solve crimes. And there's something else-each
snag you encounter proves your ideas a bit more if you
overcome it. Sheer guessing is all right in detective books,
but it's no good in real life.” There was a knock at the door.
“I expect that's the report.”
Cozens entered and handed Cross an official envelope,
which he opened. He glanced through the typewritten
sheets quickly before passing them to Johnny
“This'll mean more to you than to me,” he commented.
Johnny went through the report slowly and steadily, now
and again pausing to re-read a part of it.
“Not much,” he remarked at last, laying the sheets aside,
"but what there is is useful. He died just as Pilchard said
he did-heart gave out under strain, probably coughing.
That's okay. Whole of the mucous membrane unnaturally
inflamed, by some irritant apparently. It would be, if the
old boy had breathed ozone. No trace of irritant poisons in
organs. That's all right. This is the point, sir; Carruthers
has made a good job of this report.” He paused and looked
up. “There were two cuts on the hand. One had been
painted with iodine, the other hadn't; and this second one
had bled just before death. The blood was colourless."
“Well?"
"Ozone destroys the colouring-matter in blood, sir,”
Johnny said, very quietly.


CHAPTER X
THE TENANTS TELL THEIR STORIES
It was too late that afternoon to call on the manufacturers
of the air system, which, Johnny had discovered, from a
brass plate screwed on the distributor trunk, was the
Puraire, made by the Atmospheric Treatment Company,
Ltd., with offices in Victoria Street. Cross decided, there-
fore, that the best thing they could do was to carry on with
their inquiries among the neighbours.
The first they visited was Brigadier-General Railton-
Railton, who greeted them enthusiastically.
"Police, eh? Want to talk about old Wiseman? Come in,
come in." His hand rested on the tantalus. “Have a chota-
peg? Sets you up and makes you talk better!"
Cross moistened his lips.
"I don't mind if I do, sir, thank you."
Johnny shook his head, to the General's obvious surprise.
“Oh, come, come, officer. You can't stand out of a round.”
"Sorry, sir,” Johnny replied, smiling in his friendly way.
“I don't drink before the evening.”
“Rules and regulations, what? Well, I dare say you
know your own business, but when I was your age, sir, I
was in a place where a peg was the only thing to look for-
ward to. The doctors don't know their business when they
say it does you no good out East.”
99


102
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"Some time during the afternoon—about four, I should
say. Yes, it was, by Jove! Richards was in here just before
the row started and asked me if I wanted tea.”
“Thank you."
Cross broke in.
"You can tell us nothing about Mr. Wiseman, sir, beyond
what you've said?” he asked.
“Nothing at all, Inspector.”
“Then we needn't trouble you any more. We're very
much obliged to you.”
“Not at all, not at all. Have another peg before you go?
No? Well, well. Good afternoon, gentlemen.”
He opened the door stiffly and let them out.
In the corridor, Johnny caught hold of Cross's sleeve.
“I wonder what that man was doing to the pipes?” he
asked. “Hadn't we better check up on that?”.
“Yes, we had. But don't make your questions so obvious,
Lamb. It turned out all right, but it might easily have
scared him off.”
"Okay, sir. I'll remember."
Their next call was at Nimmo's flat. They found that
mild man drinking China tea. A chess-board was in front
of him, and he was apparently deep in the intricacies of a
two-mover. He greeted them with quiet courtesy, though
without any enthusiasm. When Cross had explained the
object of their visit, he sat in silence for a moment, as though
turning the affair over in his mind.
"Really, Inspector, I don't know that there is anything
useful I could tell you,” he said at last, in a soft, cultured
voice. “I saw very little of Mr. Wiseman, except at the
bridge-table. He did not play chess, so far as I know, so I
was not even so intimate with him as I am with the
General.”


THE TENANTS TELL THEIR STORIES
103
“You formed no idea of Mr. Wiseman's character, sir?"
"You can't play bridge with a man without forming
some idea of his character.” Nimmo's voice was dry. “But
it's not always a safe thing to base general opinions on what
you learn there. I would rather not commit myself, if you
don't mind, Inspector."
“Perhaps you're wise.” Cross glanced keenly at the man,
who sat almost shyly in his chair, a frightened little man
obviously unable to stand up to the rude world. The in-
spector found him a puzzle; his experience told him that
Nimmo's replies were not wholly sincere.
"You had no contacts with Mr. Wiseman but at the
bridge-table, then. I suppose you saw him in the lift and in
the passages?”
"N-no.” There was a slight hesitancy about the reply.
Cross noted it, and Nimmo, glancing timidly at the in-
spector, suddenly smiled apologetically. “Perhaps I'd better
be frank, though I don't see how it can help you."
"It is always the best policy, sir,” Cross replied senten-
tiously. “At this stage, we can't say what may or may not be
useful to us.”
“No, I suppose you can't. It's like a chemical experiment
- you've got to try out everything, even those things you
regard as absolutely impossible.”
Cross nodded. He made a little mental note that chem-
istry was always cropping up in this case, even in con-
versation.
“As a matter of fact, Inspector, I met Mr. Wiseman in a
business capacity some years ago. I am, as perhaps you are
aware"—there was a touch of pride in his voice“chairman
of Charles Nimmo, Limited, of Salisbury Square. We make
retorts and refractory plant for industrial use mostly, though
we cover the whole field of chemical apparatus. About six


104
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
eventually be wely and
years ago we wanted to expand and needed new capital.
Up to that time it had been a purely personal business which
I had inherited from my father, and I loathed the idea of
letting anyone else into it; but it had to be done. It was the
spirit of the times.”
He sighed heavily and paused.
“Briefly,” he went on, “I looked round for assistance, and
eventually Mr. Wiseman was introduced to me and agreed
to put up the necessary money. He drove a very hard bar-
gain, Inspector, a very hard bargain. That was all I had to
do with him; the rest of it was done by the solicitors and
the bank. Needless to say, I was very surprised when, on
moving here, I found he was my neighbour. He showed no
wish to refer to our previous association, and naturally I
did not remind him. To all intents and purposes we were
strangers.” For a moment his shyness left him; his eyes
hardened and his voice became cold.
"Thank you, sir. I don't see that that helps us, but it's
better to have it from you than to discover it from other
sources.” Cross looked at Lamb, and the sergeant, who had
been surreptitiously trying to read the title of a book on the
arm of Nimmo's chair, smiled quickly.
“That's interesting about your work, sir,” he said. “I
happen to be an amateur of industrial chemistry, and of
course I know about the Nimmo vertical gas retort.”
Nimmo showed some signs of animation.
"That's our chief product, and I'm proud to say that I
myself was responsible for its main design. It has been very
successful.” He turned to the inspector with a smile. “It
was to finance its introduction that we had to seek Mr.
Wiseman's help."
“I see, sir. Well, I don't think we need trouble you


THE TENANTS TELL THEIR STORIES
105
further.” He rose to his feet, and Nimmo did the same.
Half-way to the door, Cross paused and turned to him.
"By the way, did you happen to be in last Tuesday after-
noon? There were some complaints, I understand, about a
workman who was kicking up a row with his hammering.
It's not at all important, but in our reports we have to
account for almost everyone. Some of our superiors might
even want to know where the cat was on a case like this.”
Nimmo smiled with a vague expression on his face.
“I can't say I noticed anything," he replied. “What hap-
pens outside is no concern of mine."
"Thank you, sir. We're sorry to have caused you any
inconvenience."
"I won't say it's a pleasure, Inspector. You are investigat-
ing what may be a murder, if I understand you aright.
Of course, you have to do your duty, and I-I suppose I
have to do my part as a citizen.”
He ushered them to the door, and stood smiling as they
went out. His light-grey eyes behind the gold-rimmed spec-
tacles were staring into space. They thanked him again as
he closed the door.
“H’m," Cross remarked. “Queer bird, that. I wonder
why he didn't want to admit his previous contact with
Wiseman?”
“Might be worth following up," Lamb suggested, rather
absently.
"Perhaps. Now for Miss Prillkins.” Cross squared his
shoulders and executed a flourish on the brass Lincoln Imp
that served as Miss Prillkins's knocker.
Miss Prillkins swept them into her room with every sign
of welcome. She insisted on their sharing her tea, produc-
ing spare cups from her cupboard for the purpose. This was


106
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
welcome to Johnny, though Cross was not so enthusiastic;
the General's peg was still too fresh on his tongue.
“Gentlemen, I hope you've come to tell me you've arrested
the young man who murdered Mr. Wiseman,” Miss Prill-
kins began cheerfully, when she had poured out tea and
settled them. “That constable of yours didn't seem to know
much about the affair, Inspector, and I'm glad to be able
to talk to someone in a responsible position.”
“We have to go slow on a case like this,” Cross returned
guardedly. “We daren't take chances.”
“There seems little room for mistake to my mind,” the
spinster retorted, pursing her thin lips. “I heard everything.
There were threats. Mr. Wiseman was found dead. Ob-
viously the one was the result of the other."
"Perhaps you could tell us exactly what did happen,
ma'am?”
Cross decided the best thing was to get her launched on
her story, which she was obviously bursting to tell. She
needed no encouragement, but she told little more than he
knew from Hunt's full report. He took out his note-book
and checked up the points as she made them. When she
had finished, Cross thanked her.
"That's a very clear statement, ma’am," he commented.
“I wish every witness was as helpful.”
Miss Prillkins preened herself.
"I believe in clearness and conciseness, Inspector. I im-
press its value constantly on my girls. We live in a com-
plex world and we should make our position as clear as we
can. Discipline of the mind, Inspector, is as important as
discipline of the body. We ought to have both.”
“Very right, ma'am, very right indeed.” He rose and
walked across to the open window, looking out over the


THE TENANTS TELL THEIR STORIES
107
Park. "It's very nice up here, ma'am, if I may say so. Little
noise from the traffic, being so high up, and I suppose your
neighbours and the servants never disturb you with these
sound-proof walls.”
“No, very rarely, Inspector. Though last Tuesday after-
noon there was something about which I protested very
strongly. Very strongly, Inspector. There was a workman
hammering away and making such a noise that I thought
my ceiling would fall in. I went straight down to Mr.
Holmes and complained, and he had the effrontery to tell
me he knew nothing about it. I reminded him that it was
his duty to know what was happening in the building, and
that if it happened again, I should report him to the land-
lords. One has to take a firm line with these people, Inspec-
tor, and stand up for one's rights."
“That's very true, ma'am.”
Cross had got his information without asking a direct
question, which, he realized, would set Miss Prillkins's ac-
tive mind jumping to conclusions. She had risen to the bait
admirably. He looked round at Lamb, who had suddenly
tackled Miss Prillkins and engaged her in a conversation of
the value of the Girl Guide movement, taking his cue from
a picture on the wall that depicted Miss Prillkins in full
regalia among a troop of girls. She was showing surprising
animation, gesturing freely, and laying down the law with
emphasis and conviction. Johnny was smiling pleasantly at
her; his youth and apparent innocence appealed to the
lady's doubtless feminine heart.
At length Johnny caught Cross's impatient look; he broke
off the talk with a polite excuse.
“Really, I must be getting on, Miss Prillkins,” he said.
“Duty calls, you know."


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“Of course, Sergeant. A most stimulating talk. Perhaps
you would like to call on me unofficially some time so that
we can continue it?".
“I should love to. Thank you so much.”
Cross hastened to the door. Outside, he turned to his
junior with a puzzled expression.
“What on earth ?".
“I thought it as well to establish friendly contact, sir.
Tact, sir, tact—the first requisite of a police officer. Now I
can go back to her whenever necessary and pump her as
desired.”
“And what do you hope to learn?”
"I don't know, sir. But the Prillkins is a human anteater,
with a nose devised by Nature for probing into other
people's business. One never knows when a woman like
that might be useful.”
"Perhaps you're right.”
“What do we do now, sir?"
Cross pulled out a silver watch of a massiveness com-
parable to that of his own frame.
"It's turned half-past five,” he said, and stopped to con-
sider. “I think we'd better go back to the office and sort
out what we've learnt and make our reports. Tomorrow
morning we'll look up the ventilation people, though it's
Saturday, and I expect all the bosses will be playing golf.”
He sighed deeply. “Come on. Aren't you hungry yet? I am.”
Johnny grinned.
“I dare say. I can last out,” he replied, as he pressed the
call-button for the lift.


CHAPTER XI
SERGEANT LAMB SUMMARIZES THE POSITION
WHEN they returned to Scotland Yard they were fortunate
enough to find the Inspectors' room empty, and they settled
down without fear of interruption to sort out their catch.
Cross opened his note-book and laid it in front of him,
while Johnny sat on the desk, swinging his feet and ex-
amining them with quite unwarranted interest.
"Well, where have we got to?" the inspector demanded.
This was Johnny's case by tacit agreement, though Cross
took the lead in questioning, it was being left to Johnny
to expound his views, draw his conclusions, and suggest
plans of action, for Cross to criticize from his practical
experience.
"Come on, out with it. Let's hear your views,” Cross
urged, as Johnny made no reply.
"Mine not to reason why, sir," Johnny retorted, with
mock humility. “I am the crow and you the fox who bids
me discourse. I will discourse.”
His gaze returned to his feet and he seemed to have some
hesitancy in beginning.
“Let's start with Wiseman," he said at last. “We know
there was something queer in his room, and that that
something was probably ozone. Everything points to that.
The smell was noticed by a reliable witness who was used
109


SERGEANT LAMB SUMMARIZES THE POSITION 111
the actual heat in the atmosphere as to the dampness in it."
Cross wrinkled his brow.
“Sounds daft to me, but I suppose you're right.”
“We'll ask the ventilating people tomorrow. Anyway,
what I want to put over is that, if the ozone was coming
in by way of the air inlet, it'd be in relatively damp air, and
the ozone and the dampness would provide a very powerful
corroding agent, most active where it was meeting the stale,
drier air. And that's what the distribution of the rust-the
rust, mark you, not the fading-suggests.”
"H'm, I think I see. But why not the fading?"
“Because the dampness plays little part in that. The ozone
itself would act on the dyes, and that's what we find: the
Persian rug under the air inlet and the cover on the bed are
most attacked.”
“All right. I get the idea, though I'll leave the details to
you.”..
"So I think we can assume that there was ozone there
and that it came in via the air system. Okay?"
“We'll argue on those lines.”
“Oh, sir, oh, sir! Your name should be Thomas, not
Frederick Jubilee.”
“That's enough from you, Lamb; get on with your duty."
Cross's second name, the result of misplaced parental en-
thusiasm for the Diamond Jubilee, which marked the year
of his birth, was a sore point with him and a frequent cause
for chaffing, though he usually took it in good part.
“I resume,” Johnny cried, grinning broadly—“I resume.
Then we have the doctor's report. There was violent in-
flammation of the mucous membrane and its associated
tracts—also a symptom of ozonization. And there was the
significant fact that some blood had bleached-again a
characteristic action of ozone. No, sir, we can't get away


112
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
from the ozone. The question is how was it introduced?”
“That's the whole point,” Cross nodded grimly.
“We can't settle that until we know more about the ven-
tilating system. But we've learnt that someone was playing
about with the air system on Wiseman's floor a day and a
half before he died. That's suspicious, is it not, sir?”.
"Possibly.”
“You'll break my heart, sir. Not one little word of en-
couragement or hope. But we must find out about that. At
least you'll grant me that?”.
: le looked at Cross appealingly; the inspector inclined
his head, smiling slightly.,
“Good. Then we have to ask ourselves 'oo done it? Who
did, sir?"
“This is your story, Lamb. It might've been Chandler,
though.”
"Please, sir, not so fast. Let us be coldly scientific and
consider the classic points of Motive, Means, and Oppor-
tunity. The man must have had some very strong desire
to get rid of Wiseman, who was ratty, it seems, but com-
paratively inoffensive. He must have had a pretty fair
knowledge of chemistry to know about ozone and its prob-
able effect on Wiseman, which also presupposes an intimate
knowledge of Wiseman's condition and habits. He must
have known quite a lot about the building if he introduced
it through the ventilation system and had the means of
easy access. Let's say he was a chemist, or at least a man
with chemical knowledge; that he'd strong reason for
Wiseman's hurried departure from this life; and that he'd
access to the more intimate details of Sion House. What's
the answer?”
“Chandler still fits.”
“Yes. He's obviously a clever chemist. That fits him for


SERGEANT LAMB SUMMARIZES THE POSITION 113
she answl. Lambdler, sit
number one. He'd reason for wanting Wiseman to croak.
Okay for number two. Had he access to the block in the
sense of being able to fake the air system? We don't know.
But there's one glaring point against it. He was known at
the place, because he'd been there several times. And there's
nothing to show he knew his way about upstairs. Wiseman
apparently always had his pleasant little chats downstairs."
“That's true," Cross commented reflectively. “We must
find out more about him and the mysterious workman." He
made a note in his book. “The risk he'd run in trying to
fake the system himself would be too great; from what
Herries said he isn't a man of any nerve who could carry it
off against odds. Who else is there?”.
Johnny looked up, his face rather set.
“Charles Nimmo,” he answered quietly.
"Nimmo? But hang it all, Lamb "
“Let's check him as we checked Chandler, sir. One, he is
a skilled chemist; he designed the Nimmo retort himself,
as you remember he told us. Two, he hated Wiseman.
Those mild little men are often the worst haters and the
most implacable. He didn't want to confess his relations
with Wiseman. Did you see his look when he spoke of him?
It nearly made me yelp.” Johnny paused. “The book he was
reading was a French classic on ozone: Eau oxygénée et
Ozone. It may be coincidence, or it may not. Three, he'd
have access at any time, day or night. According to him, he
was the only one who didn't notice the hammering, which
was queer when you remember what the Prillkins and the
peg-swilling General had to say about it."
"It's fantastic, but it's possible.” Cross looked at his
sergeant keenly, gratified at the reasoning power he evinced.
“We'll have to check up on Nimmo, too, though I think


114
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
I should have dismissed him on my own.” He made a
fresh note in his book.
“Yes, sir. But Chandler had the stronger motive, and
there are some rather odd things about him. There seems
no doubt about the row, and Herries told us there was no
love lost between him and Wiseman. Then there's that
business about the money. What monkey-trick did that
hide? Why should he want a perfectly good three quid a
week sent to someone else when he was poor himself? Did
you make a note of that name, sir—the one the money was
sent to, or rather, into whose banking account it was paid?”
Cross turned a page of the note-book.
"Of course I did. Yes, here it is. Walter Brimsgrove. We
shall have to go to him in any case to find out Chandler's
address.”
“We shall, sir. He may be a money-lender or some-
thing of that kind, or he may be quite honest. I just want
to know.”
Johnny relapsed into silence, while Cross, with meth-
odical thoroughness, proceeded to note down the gist of his
assistant's arguments in his book. Like all C.I.D. men, the
inspector had a good memory, but he never took chances;
he preferred everything to be written down in black and
white.
“We've got our work cut out, Lamb," he remarked at
last. “It may be necessary for us to farm it out between us.”
“I'd rather we didn't, sir, if you don't mind and if it
can be avoided. It's more than likely we shall see more be-
tween us than we should separately."
“That's very true. Do you want to do anything else
tonight?”
“I might go and see the Prillkins, sir, and discuss Girl
Guides.”


SERGEANT LAMB SUMMARIZES THE POSITION
115
"Girl Guides? Well, you can go by yourself for that. I've
had enough of her for one day.”
"I was going to see if I could find out some more about
that workman. I think it's not unreasonable to suppose
that the Prillkins went and gave him a bit of what-ho be-
fore she made her complaint to Holmes. And by the bye,
sir, oughtn't we to see Holmes to find out if he can tell us
anything?"
"We should, Lamb. But first of all we'd better see the
ventilating people. You're building too much on that work-
man, Lamb, and that's the sort of thing that makes for
disappointment. What I mean is that he may turn out to
be one of the makers' own men—and then where's your
theory?"
“That's true, sir. But I don't think he will. Holmes
would have known about the visit if he had been, and
Prillkins said he didn't. At least, I should think he'd know.
And there's the relief valet, sir. He might be important
too. We haven't seen him yet.” Cross added yet another
note to his book, without speaking. “Well, good night, sir.
I'll go and see the Prillkins.”
“Good night. And-er-Lamb."
"Yes, sir?”
“Don't compromise her. Remember she's a lone spinster.”
“I'll watch it, sir."
Johnny retired grinning broadly. Cross settled down to
write his report.


CHAPTER XII
MR. WILLIAMS LENDS A HAND
Ar half-past eleven the next morning, Cross and Lamb
were entering one of those tall, over-decorated, red-brick
buildings that give Victoria Street its own especial air of
moribundity. The offices of the Atmospheric Treatment
Company, Ltd., were on the fifth floor, and, whatever the
exterior of the building might be like, they seemed to have
been modernized on the most advanced lines.
As the two men stood in the reception lobby, they could
see right through the various rooms, for the floorspace was
divided by steel partitions, cellulosed in buff, and provided
with glass from ceiling to waist-level. Typists sat in the
nearer room; in the further apartment they caught glimpses
of draughtsmen working in the curious blue light of so-
called daylight lamps.
After Cross had handed his card to a perky office boy,
who appeared in answer to his summons on the buzzer, he
looked round with some disfavour. The inspector had an
ingrained British dislike for doing business in public.
"Privacy doesn't seem much valued here,” he remarked.
“I suppose the idea is that the bosses can keep their eyes
on the staff without moving, and that a man's too scared
to slack if you put him out in the open. Perhaps there's
something in it.”
"It works both ways, sir,” Johnny rejoined. "If the boss
116


MR. WILLIAMS LENDS A HAND
117
can see the typist, she can see the boss, and it's no good his
pretending he's busy when he wants to sleep off a business
lunch. But I expect he has his own lair heavily barricaded
from the lesser mob, and he leaves the supervision to some-
one he's got under his thumb." Johnny's ideas of business
life were more immoral than just.
Further discussion was interrupted by the return of the
office boy, who led them down the glazed corridor with
evident self-importance. It was not every day he had to
conduct officers from Scotland Yard about the place. Even-
tually they arrived at a solid oak door, lettered Private in
plain sanserif lettering, with the legend Mr. Henry Lati-
mer, Managing Director, in smaller letters beneath.
The room was comfortably furnished with a couple of
deep leather easy chairs and a large olive steel desk, from
which a square-jawed, shrewd-eyed man rose to greet them.
A typist to whom he had been dictating took one swift,
embracing glance at the two detectives before retiring un-
obtrusively to spread the news of their arrival over the
office. Latimer held out a large hand to them.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said, eyeing them keenly.
“My name's Latimer, and I'm managing director of the
company. Won't you sit down? Cigarettes?” He extended
a slim gold case towards them, and, when they had lighted
up, returned to his seat at the big desk.
“What can I do for you, gentlemen? I don't often have
visits from the police, least of all from Scotland Yard, and
it's fortunate I've got a clear conscience."
Cross groaned inwardly at this sally; he had heard it so
often in his professional career that he sometimes wondered
whether it came from some manual of good conduct or a
sixpenny treatise on how to behave in unusual circum-
stances. Chance was inadequate to explain its frequency.
office. Icy to spread the "o detectives befcook one swift,


118
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“We are investigating the death of Mr. Samuel Wiseman
of Sion House, Kensington Gore,” he began, officially im-
personal, “and we believe your company installed the air-
conditioning system there. That is correct, isn't it, sir?”
“It is. It was one of the best contracts we've handled for
some time, though it wasn't without its difficulties. But I
don't see - "
Cross held up a massive hand.
“Excuse me, sir, if you don't mind,” he interrupted. “We
want to make some inquiries about that system, because
we have some reason to believe it has been tampered with.
We have come here to see if you can help us.”
Latimer's eyebrows went upwards in surprise.
“Why, of course. I'll help you in any way I can. But I
don't see how the plant could have been tampered with.”
“So far,” Johnny broke in, "we haven't examined the
plant. We should prefer to do that when one of your
engineers was present. We are interested in the state of the
air inlet in Mr. Wiseman's flat. When was it last attended
to by you? Have your people inspected it since it was
installed?”
“The air inlet, eh? I should say we'd not seen it. We
put in the plant and contracted to make a service call every
three months to do anything necessary. That wouldn't in-
volve going into tenants' flats. As a rule, all our man would
have to do would be to examine the plant in the basement
and make any adjustments necessary besides oiling the fans
and the motors. Of course, if there was any complaint
about a particular flat, he'd go along and have a look, but
not otherwise. If you'll wait a minute, I'll have the record
looked up for you.”
He selected and pressed a bright-red knob on the switch-


MR. WILLIAMS LENDS A HAND
119
block in front of him and spoke into the loud-speaking
intercommunication telephone.
“Oh, Miss Fletcher, I want all the records of the Sion
House job. Yes, everything, including the latest service
sheet-at once, please.”
No word was spoken until the girl, accompanied by the
office boy-exuberant at this unexpected opportunity of
examining the detectives again-entered, bearing between
them two large box files, an orange manilla folder, three
record cards of different shades, and two aluminium tubes,
some three feet long and four inches in diameter. This
assorted load they deposited with some difficulty on a
small table at Latimer's elbow. He turned to the officers
with an air of triumph, as if to draw attention to the
efficiency of the office system.
"These are the complete records," he explained, pick-
ing up the orange folder. “In here are the service records
that we're concerned with now. Those tubes contain the
blue-prints, and the two box files all the other data. I
don't suppose you'll want the blue-prints,” he added with
a deprecatory chuckle.
“I don't know, sir. I'd like to go through them later if
I may.” Johnny's eyes were fixed hungrily on the alumini-
um tubes.
"Certainly.” Latimer seemed a little surprised at this
unexpected interest in the technical side. "Better still, I'll
get a duplicate set looked out for you to take away."
"Thank you, sir. That would be a great help.”.
“Anything to oblige. Let's turn up the service record
first. Let me see. The last call was made just over two
months ago, in July, and on that occasion the man just
made a routine adjustment, checked the instruments, and


120
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
oiled up. That's all. He wouldn't have gone outside the
plant chamber.”
“We were rather given to understand, sir, that a man
called last Tuesday and did something to the fittings in
Mr. Wiseman's corridor.” Cross spoke vaguely, as though
repeating a mere rumour.
“That's impossible, Inspector. Our recording system is
too detailed for us not to know that." He obviously re-
sented the suggestion that his system might have broken
down. "The man who pays the service calls has a sheet
which he hands to his supervisor every day when he signs
off. He records details of every call made, the time at each
place, and the amount of materials used, if any, with any
special remarks about the job. More than that, he has a job
card that the customer signs when the man arrives and
again when he leaves, so that we have a complete check on
how he's employed his time. Those reports, signed by the
supervisor concerned, come here the next morning. If one
of our men had been at Sion House on Tuesday, we should
have a record of it. I'll have the supervisor brought here
and ask him."
Once again he operated the loud-speaking telephone,
this time depressing a yellow knob.
“Ask Mr. Hawkes to come here at once,” he ordered.
The man was along in less than a minute, a typical
middle-aged foreman engineer, precise in clothes and man-
ner, and with the air of quiet assurance so typical of his
kind.
“Listen, Hawkes," Latimer said. “These gentlemen are
police officers, and they are seeking information about the
Sion House job. That's in your division, isn't it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The last service call recorded was in July. But these


. MR. WILLIAMS LENDS A HAND
121
gentlemen say they believe a man called last Tuesday.
That's right, Inspector, isn't it?” He turned to Cross, who
nodded.
Hawkes shook his head.
“I'm quite sure it wasn't one of our men. Not only be-
cause of the card, sir, but because I've got special reason
to remember last Tuesday. Two of the motors at the
Corona Cinema blew out in the morning—some fool had
been monkeying with them, I should say—and I had all the
men in my division working at the job to get it through
in time for the midday opening. They got one motor
going to carry on, and they spent the rest of the afternoon
there on the other. We had to put in two entirely new
armatures. I made a special report on the job to Mr.
Williams.”
"Then that settles it,” Cross interposed. “It was a point
we wanted to clear up rather specially, and I'm much
obliged.”
At a nod from Latimer, Hawkes withdrew.
“What next, gentlemen?” the director asked.
“I wonder if you could describe briefly what your system
is-or, rather, what the Sion House system is.” Johnny was
taking charge now.
“Certainly, though I'm not a technical man." Latimer
paused to consider; he looked up suddenly. “I think I'd
better turn you over to our chief engineer, Mr. Williams.
He'll be able to give you all the information you need on
the technical side, as he was responsible for both the design
and the installation."
"That'd be a very good idea, sir, and it'd save our
troubling you any more.” Johnny glanced at the plus-four
suit Latimer was wearing and the bag of golf clubs in the
corner of the room; it was obvious that Latimer was


122
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
anxious to get away. He called Williams on the telephone,
told him he was sending two police officers along, and then
rang the buzzer for the office boy.
Williams was a tall spare man with greying hair. He
greeted them pleasantly, but not effusively, waving them to
chairs. His office was a little partitioned space off the draw-
ing-office. Cross glanced with disfavour at the glass-
panelled walls, he had hoped for more privacy. Williams
noticed the look, smiling slightly.
“Privacy doesn't count here, Inspector,” he remarked.
“The object is to make each man his brother's keeper.
It may be all right for clerical staff-I don't know; but I
can't say the technical men like it. They always work
best in their own time and in their own way. What's the
trouble? How can I help you?”.
Johnny introduced himself and briefly explained what
he wanted. The engineer seemed rather surprised.
"The Sion House job? I can tell you all about that,
but perhaps you could let me know what it is you're after
particularly.”
"Everything,” Johnny replied. “We want to know what
the system is, how it's run, what the rate of circulation is,
and whether the air is just washed or treated in any other
way-ozonized, for example.”
Williams smiled again slowly.
“That's a bit of a tall order. It'd make a long story, be-
cause the job was a very special one and was non-standard
in a good many respects. I tell you what I'll do: I'll give
you the essentials, and you can ask any questions you
want afterwards. How will that do?”.
"Fine."
“Good. How much do you know about air-condition-
ing?"


MR. WILLIAMS LENDS A HAND
123
Johnny grinned.
“Not very much. I understand that it's mainly a matter
of washing the air in water sprays and sending it into
the rooms at a standard degree of humidity and tempera-
ture. Is that right?”.
“Broadly, yes. You see, the temperature you feel is de-
pendent on the degree of humidity, or quantity of water
vapour, in the air. Hot dry air may actually feel colder
than saturated air at a lower temperature. Circulation, too,
lowers the effective temperature, or sensation of heat you
experience. So what we aim at is to distribute saturated
air at a definite temperature. Is that clear?”
"Quite,” Johnny commented, though Cross looked
puzzled; this was definitely not his line of country.
“That's the normal system. Ordinary air is drawn in
by fans, passed through a water-spray chamber, and then
distributed to the rooms through trunking or pipe-runs,
after being warmed or cooled as necessary.”
“What would the rate of flow be?”.
“That depends. In ordinary living-rooms, the entire
air should be changed three or four times an hour, as a
general principle. But there are all sorts of special factors
to consider. The use of radiators or fires in the rooms sets
up a circulation on its own, and if the air is properly
conditioned the rate of flow or displacement can be
lessened.”
"I see. We're interested in one particular flat at Sion
House on the top floor. The room is twenty feet by
fifteen by ten, which means three thousand cubic feet.
Normally you'd pump air in at the rate of twelve thousand
cubic feet every hour?”
“Theoretically. But in Sion House the conditions
are quite different. We produced an entirely new system


124
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
for it, the first of its kind, we believe, in the country.
There are two methods of air circulation, as apart from
conditioning. You can pump new air in by a fan or you
can extract the stale air and let the fresh air diffuse in.”
“Yes.”
“If you're conditioning air, you must pump it in. Now
the architect of Sion House, Sir Godfrey Dallas, wanted
air conditions to be under the control of the tenant. His
pet theory is that no one wants standardized air, though
we don't agree, by the way. Our problem was to provide
conditioned air and then work out a method so that the
tenant needn't use it if he didn't want to."
“I see. If a man wanted a fug, he was able to gratify
his base desires."
"That's the idea. So far as the air-conditioning plant
is concerned, it's practically standard, except for one detail
I'll tell you about later. The air is delivered at each room
inlet at a pressure just a little above ordinary room pressure,
so it seeps in very slowly. In other words, to put it more
technically, the relative pressures are sufficient only to
ensure minimum diffusion.”
"That's quite clear.” Johnny glanced at Cross, grinning
at the wry expression on the inspector's face.
"Well,” Williams continued, "we also put in an extrac-
tion system to draw out the stale air. So the rate of input
of fresh air—that is to say, the quantity admitted in a
given time-depended almost entirely on the amount
extracted. The pressure at the inlet is very small, you
remember.”
"I get that.”
“Each tenant has a valve he can operate so that the
rate of extraction can be varied from a minimum just
sufficient to ensure a flow of air to a maximum that gives


126
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
he might start feeding back stale air into the inlet. Can
you grasp that?”
“You mean he might work up such a frowst that the
pressure of the conditioned air wouldn't be sufficient to
allow it to enter?”
"Put it that way if you like. So actually we took each
flat separately and gave it its own distributor. It increased
the cost by about three hundred per cent, but the landlords
didn't seem to mind, and we certainly didn't.”
"Could anyone tamper with the supply to one flat with-
out affecting the others?”.
Williams looked at Lamb sharply.
“Yes, of course. As a matter of fact, each room distributor
has an inspection chamber provided with a valve so that
the room can be isolated if necessary—as, for example, if a
flat is empty."
“Good.” Johnny smiled with satisfaction. One big diffi-
culty at least had been swept away; his theory looked
safer. “One thing more: Is the system to the bath-rooms
connected to the system for the living-rooms?”
“No. Those internal bath-rooms have to have their own
independent circulation. They operate from the same main
plant, but their trunks-pipe-lines are quite separate.”
Johnny sat in silence for a moment or two, turning these
facts over in his mind. Progress was certainly being made,
though he did not seem any nearer to finding out Wise-
man's murderer. But it was something to have a work-
able theory of the means of killing; with that, they could
move forward. He turned to Cross.
“Mr. Williams has been very helpful, sir, as you'll under-
stand.” Cross nodded; he had grasped the bearing of the
information, though its technicalities had escaped him. He
was looking rather stern, being, in fact, worried. The real


MR. WILLIAMS LENDS A HAND
127
cu
problem-finding the murderer—had not begun yet, so far
as he could see.
"I was wondering, sir, whether we might take Mr.
Williams into our confidence. We shall have to examine
the air system very closely, and Mr. Williams's help would
be invaluable. May I, sir?”
The inspector considered. He did not like putting for-
ward what was, after all, no more than theory to out-
siders; at the same time, Williams, or one of his men,
would have to help them in examining the piping. At last
he grunted.
“Yes, perhaps it would be as well. Carry on."
Briefly, Johnny outlined his suspicions. As he pro-
ceeded, Williams followed with very close attention, look-
ing curiously from time to time at Johnny, and wondering
that “a mere policeman,” as he put it to himself, should
show so much technical knowledge. When the story was
over, he sat back in his chair.
"Phew!” he whistled. “This looks pretty serious. Your
theory, Sergeant, is an ingenious one, but it hangs together
from the technical angle. I see your point about the
quantity required. If the ventilation had been a simple
system, it would have been practically impossible to in-
troduce enough Oz. As it is, this man Wiseman was
probably a fug fiend and kept the extractor valve at min-
imum.” He whistled again.
"There was a man at work on Tuesday afternoon and
Wiseman died on Thursday morning? That'd be roughly
thirty-six hours.” The engineer stopped to consider. “At
any one time in the room, as you say, there'd have to be
about three hundred and forty-five cubic inches of ozone.
Now, if the valve was closed, the air was leaking out at
a very slow rate, perhaps not changing twice in five hours.


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“As early as you like. But let me come today— ".
“No; it's very good of you, but we couldn't think of it.
How would nine o'clock do you? Too early?”.
"Not a bit.”
"Fine. Then we'll see you there at that time. Thank you
very much indeed for all your help. You'll keep this to
yourself, of course?"
"Certainly I will, Inspector."
Very firmly, Cross walked towards the door, with
Johnny behind him. It was clear that the inspector was
feeling the need for action. He was burning with a desire
to do something practical and to have done, at any rate
for a time, with theory. Talk was all very well, but there
could be too much of it. In a sense, he was responsible for
Johnny's career, and that young man must not be allowed
to get into bad habits.
He strode off briskly down Victoria Street without say-
ing a word. For all his bulk, he was a fast walker, and,
though Johnny was used to him, he felt himself growing
a little breathless.
“Where are we off to?” he panted at last. "What's the
hurry?”
“The office.” Cross's reply was short. “We've got some
work—some real work-to do.”


CHAPTER XIII
MR. CHANDLER GROWS OBSTINATE
SATURDAY afternoon or not, Inspector Cross was obviously
keyed up for action. While Johnny had been sorting out
his thoughts, Cross had been busy in his own way. A pile
of reports had been waiting on his desk.
“Damned obstructionists banks are,” he commented as
he read one of them. “I sent Heppelwhite down to that
bank Herries mentioned to find out about Brimsgrove. It
took him a solid hour to get the manager to disgorge the
address. Wanted to forward a letter, if you please! Well,
here goes. We'll have a talk with this gent, whoever he
may be.”
He stuffed the remaining papers in his pocket, though
most of them were mere routine matters, and reached for
his hat.
"Where does this man hold court?”
“Down by the Crystal Palace-Sydenham Hill. One of
those old houses, I expect, that breathe Victorian virtue
from every brick and look like decayed spinsters trying to
keep up appearances.”
"How do we go?"
“Train from Victoria. We might have a car, but we're
not going to."
The electric train bore them quickly to their destination,
and, as they walked up the tree-lined thoroughfare, Johnny
could not help remarking how accurate Cross's description
131


MR. CHANDLER GROWS OBSTINATE
133
“What name shall I say, sir?”
"Inspector Cross, of Scotland Yard.”
Even the girl's professional impassiveness could not pre-
vent her showing slight surprise. She led them into a cur-
tained lounge off the main hall, asking them to wait. Both
looked round with interest. The lounge was comfortably
furnished, though in a rather out-of-date style. There were
couches covered in William Morris chintzes, a Turkey rug
on the floor, and a standard lamp with a silk shade. An
anthracite stove glowed dully at one end. There were no
books, however, from which to obtain an idea of the
owner's mind, though a copy of the Financial Times, lying
on a coffee-table, suggested someone with moneyed in-
terests.
Cross had taken in these details when the maid returned
to announce that Mr. Brimsgrove would see them. She led
them up a broad well-carpeted staircase, and ushered them
into a room on the first floor that was probably called the
library, for it was flanked with book-cases. In a corner by
the window was a solid, aggressive-looking man, who rose
as they entered. His face and figure were fat and puffy;
his whole mien was that of a man given to the pleasures
of the body.
“Good afternoon," he said shortly. "Won't you sit down?
You are from Scotland Yard, I understand, though I
didn't quite catch the name.”
"Inspector Cross, sir,” that officer replied, “and this is my
assistant, Sergeant Lamb.”
Brimsgrove bowed slightly and resumed his seat at the
roll-top desk. It was a litter of papers and bore obvious in-
dications of hard use.
“What can I do for you, Inspector?”
“We are anxious to get in touch with Mr. Hugh


134
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
Chandler, and we are informed that you are aware of his
address. Could you help us, sir?"
"Well, if that's all you want, it's soon disposed of. He
lives in Bloomsbury—201 Old Cheltenham Street. You've
come a long way to get your information.”
“We're used to that, sir, and it's not always so readily
given.”
“Nothing serious, I hope, Inspector? I've not had much
to do with Chandler, except in a business way, but one
doesn't like to think of anyone one knows getting into
trouble with the police.”
"His relative, Mr. Samuel Wiseman, died suddenly on
Thursday and we wish to trace him.” Cross did not wish
to say more than was necessary.
"You don't say so? I imagine that won't be bad news
to Chandler; I believe he had expectations of some kind
from Wiseman's death, though I don't know much about
it.”
"You don't know Mr. Chandler well, sir?"
"Hardly at all. I met him in a business way a little while
ago, and he mentioned Wiseman to me. He always came
back to Wiseman and seemed to bear the man some
grudge, but it was no concern of mine."
“That's interesting, sir. We had been informed that you
were acting as his business manager or in some similar
capacity.”
“Well, well, how things get about! You were wrongly
informed. Chandler had an invention—a process of distill-
ing oil from coal-and a group I'm associated with were
interested in it. That's all.”
“I see.” Cross stood up suddenly. “We were rather
puzzled about one thing, sir. We understand that a regular
income due to Mr. Chandler was paid to your banking


MR. CHANDLER GROWS OBSTINATE
135
account, and, as it is important for us to know everything
about Mr. Chandler, we were wondering if you would
explain the arrangement to us.”
“You people do manage to find things out! There was
nothing in that. It was a purely personal arrangement to
help Chandler. His income was small and he didn't have
any reason to run an account of his own, so the money was
paid to my credit and I handed it over to him.”
“Quite so. Let me see-201 Old Cheltenham Street, I
think you said?”
“That's right. You'll not find it a palace, Inspector, but
I expect you won't mind that. Can I offer you any refresh-
ment before you go?”.
“No, thank you, sir.” Cross took the very plain hint and
prepared to depart. As they walked towards the door,
Johnny seemed to stumble on the carpet, lurching against
the table in the centre of the room and knocking a book
down as he did so. He uttered an exclamation of dismay;
then, apologizing, he picked up the book and returned it
to the table. Brimsgrove eyed him steadily.
"I'm awfully sorry, you know, sir," Johnny said. “I
can't think how it happened. But there's no damage done."
He stooped and picked up a leather book-marker. “I hope
I haven't lost your place for you.”
“No, not at all.” Brimsgrove glanced at the volume. "It
wasn't my book.”
He accompanied them to the door, watching them until
they had passed through the carriage gates into the road.
When they were out of sight, Cross turned to Johnny.
"Queer bloke, that. He knows more than he said.”
“That's what I thought, sir. What makes you think so?”
"You tell me your views, and I'll see if they're right.”
Johnny had expected that; he was used to the teacher-


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
Street represented Bloomsbury at its worst. It lay in what
was virtually slum. Dirty children played up and down
the street and swung from the ends of ropes attached to a
lamp-post to form a crude giant's stride. There was an air
of squalor and drabness.
Cross's knock was answered, after a long interval, by a
collarless man wearing no coat over his waistcoat. He
glanced keenly at the inspector and replied to his query by
denying flatly that Chandler was at home. Cross promptly
disbelieved him.
"Listen, my man,” he said. “We have important busi-
ness. Hadn't you better go and make sure that Mr. Chan-
dler is not in?” The inspector had a way of asserting his
personality which readily intimidated weaklings.
The man scowled and retired, to return a few moments
later muttering that he had made a mistake. Mr. Chandler
was in after all.
"You'd best go up. Top floor, right-'and door," he added
curtly, and departed.
They found their way up the narrow, winding staircase,
which was covered with cheap linoleum worn through to
the boards in places. There was a faint odour of un-
mourned and forgotten food about the place. It was not
actually dirty, but it was neglected.
“Friend Chandler is not a man of wealth,” Johnny re-
marked softly, as they reached the top landing. It was so
dark that they could not see. He snapped his cigarette-
lighter to enable them to locate themselves. There were
only two doors. That on the left was ajar, giving a glimpse
of an uninviting bedroom; a trickle of light came from
beneath the other door, on which Cross tapped.
“Yes, what is it? Come in.”
The inspector pushed open the door and eased his way


MR. CHANDLER GROWS OBSTINATE
141
He spoke simply enough, and with conviction; but his
eyes looked almost too intently at the Inspector's. His hands
opened and closed convulsively. He presented a sorry sight.
“If you're innocent-and, mind you, I don't say we even
think you're guilty”—Cross's natural kindliness was re-
asserting itself—“you won't mind telling us all about your-
self, will you?”
“No. What do you want to know?” The young man
relapsed into a state of stupor, his head on his hands, his
voice without animation.
“What were your relations with Mr. Wiseman?”.
"If you mean what were they like, they were bad. I've
told you I hated him for himself and because I had to go
hat in hand to him for money, though I never got it. Do
you know about Uncle Josh's will?”
“Mr. Wright's will? Yes.”
“Then you can imagine how I feel about it. He was an
interloper. That money ought to have been mine—was
mine—but he wouldn't admit it. I wanted it badly. For
years now I've been working out a new process of making
oil from coal. It needed money. I couldn't get it. Nothing
mattered to me but seeing that process in use. I asked
Uncle Samuel time and again, and he always refused. He
was a swine, but I never told him so until that last meet-
ing. Then I did. I told him what I thought of him. Some
old cow of a woman came in and overheard me. I suppose
she put you on to me? No, she couldn't have. It was
Brimsgrove, you said. There's another swine.”
“Mr. Brimsgrove? What's wrong with him? We thought
he was helping you.”
"He was, in a way. He put up some money to help my
work along. I really ought to be grateful to him, I suppose,
but he was a financier. He only wanted to make money,


142
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
and he held the whip hand. I had to work to his orders.
I loathed it.”
“Why was your money paid to his bank?"
“You know that, do you? Then why do you want to
question me like this, if you know so much? No, I mustn't
say that—it sounds bad. That was my security, if you like.
All my income went to him, and he doled it out to me."
"I see. You knew him well?".
“Too damned well. He'd got me in his grip and he let me
know it. Said he was interested in my work and not in
the money he might make. Borrowed books from me and
tried to make it look as though he was entirely disinter-
ested. He knew his game all right. I fell for it.” Chandler's
tone was bitter.
“Would you mind giving us some details of your
career?” Johnny put in the question before Cross could
frame another.
"Don't you know that? I went to the Royal College of
Science, stayed on a fourth year, and took my D.I.C., as
well as all the usual things-B.Sc., of course. Went up for
my Ph.D. a year ago.”
“Yes. What did you do when you left South Ken.?"
Chandler showed traces of surprise at this familiar phrase.
“Took on one or two odd jobs for experience. Was with
the Benson-Hillworth people on one or two water-supply
contracts; spent a few months with the Atmospheric
Treatment gang-couldn't stand that; it wasn't in my
line. Then I went into a trade research lab. for a time.
Lately, apart from my work on the oil scheme, I've been
lecturing in the evenings at L.C.C. institutes. That's not
really my work, though—it's all chemistry, and I'm a
chemical engineer.”
"I see. Is there much difference?”


144
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“I should have thought you would have realized, as an
educated man, Mr. Chandler, that your best interests would
be served by being perfectly frank, but I must leave that
to you, of course. There's one other question I'm going to
ask, and I should be very grateful to you if you'd answer it.”
"Well?”
“Did you visit Sion House after your interview of last
Tuesday?”
Chandler reddened angrily. Then he sank back in his
chair, seemingly overcome by his recent display of un-
wonted stubbornness.
“Yes. I called again on Wednesday. I wanted to apolo-
gize for my conduct of the day before and to inquire how
Uncle Samuel was. I'd upset him badly, I knew. I was
told curtly that Mr. Wiseman had given instructions he
would not see me in any circumstances and that no mes-
sages were to be accepted.”
"What time was that? Can you remember?”
"Oh, can't you leave off? I tell you I've nothing to do
with that devil's death. About half-past three or four
o'clock, if you must know.”
“Thank you."
Without another word, Cross marched out, negotiating
the crazy staircase with some difficulty; it was not well
adapted to his bulk. In the street, he turned to Lamb and
demanded where the nearest 'phone box was to be found.
Johnny lived on the other side of Bloomsbury, in Guilford
Place, and was expected to know the whole neighbourhood.
"I think there's one in the square, sir, just along at the
end of the road, or there's one in the post office in South-
ampton Row, of course.”
“Good. I'll have a man put on this house right away.
We can't be too careful with Mr. Hugh Chandler."


CHAPTER XIV
INSPECTOR CROSS BECOMES ACTIVE
The next day, Sunday, Johnny reported for duty at what
seemed to him the quite reasonable hour of nine o'clock.
The streets of Central London were in a state of early-
Sunday desolation; between Bloomsbury and Scotland
Yard he passed barely half-a-dozen pedestrians, and even
the taxis looked sleepy and out of place, as though they
had been left over by some mistake from the night before.
He found Cross already energetically at work, dealing
with reports. Routine matters had fallen into abeyance
the last two days, and the inspector had been at his desk
since half-past seven clearing up arrears in order to have
the whole day free for action. Set aside from the rest was
a report from Heppelwhite, which he had not yet read,
preferring to preserve it for his assistant's comments.
“ 'Morning, Lamb,” he jerked, as Johnny came in. He
looked at the clock, which stood at one minute past nine.
“You're late. I said nine.”
“Sorry, sir. No excuses.”
“They wouldn't be accepted anyway. Now," he con-
tinued, jamming a wad of papers into a wire basket on his
right hand and picking up the report, “Heppelwhite's got
some dope about Brimsgrove. I've not read it yet. You go
through it and tell me about it when you've finished. I've
got a few more things to polish off.”
145


146
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
Johnny's eyebrows lifted as he ran through the docu-
ment. Heppelwhite, one of the most painstaking detectives
in the junior ranks, had done his work surprisingly well,
considering that most of his inquiries had been made on a
Saturday, when few people were available. Lamb read the
whole through three times; when he finally laid the paper
down, he found Cross leaning back in his chair and light-
ing an enormous cherrywood pipe.
“Well?”
"This is interesting, sir. Brimsgrove has offices in one
of those rabbit-warrens in Holborn at the top end of Shoe
Lane; he also has an office in the City, in Princes Street,
though he doesn't use it much. The caretaker thinks he
only rents it for the address. Cosmopolis House, Princes
Street, certainly sounds well when you've only one small
room."
“Go on.”
“He's a director of a whole host of companies, most of
'em shady ones apparently. Heppelwhite's managed to get
a few of their names, and they seem rather suggestive
to me."
“Let's have 'em.”
“Nitrate Regenerations, Limited, The 1934 Chemical
Trust, Limited, Oil Recovery, Limited, and—this looks
like Chandler's little pet-Coal Liquefaction Syndicate,
Limited.”
"Any more?"
"Yes, but their names don't mean anything—Heracles
Syndicate, Limited, Albatross and General Trust, Limited,
and so on."
"They mean quite a lot to me. They sound, all of 'em,
like fakes."


INSPECTOR CROSS BECOMES ACTIVE
147
“Maybe. Caretaker of Holborn office says Chandler was
a frequent caller—there almost every day. Couldn't give
any more information, but told Heppelwhite to look up a
man named Gillings, who'd been a clerk there and left
about a fortnight or so ago. Brimsgrove apparently hasn't
got a staff now. That sounds queer.”
"Suggests he might be on the rocks."
“So does this: The caretaker, who seems to have been
a sort of manager as well, says that Brimsgrove was a
quarter behind with the rent, and the landlords were
thinking of taking action. They'd held off so long because
he'd been punctual in the past."
"That does sound like breakers on the rocks. Did
Heppelwhite find this clerk?”.
"He traced Brother Gillings in Balham on Saturday
night, apparently returning home after a bout with the
boys at the local. Witness not too reliable; state of mind
not clear.” Johnny grinned. “Heppelwhite's seeing him
again this morning.”
"H'm; that man's a stayer. He's one of our best, Lamb.
Anything more?”
"Not much, except that the Princes Street people are
also on Brimsgrove's tail for something or other. Porter
thinks it's rent, but isn't sure.”
"I see. I suppose that's set you guessing all over again?"
Cross smiled unkindly.
"Well, there are one or two points "
“Then keep 'em. What's the time? Oh, turned half past.
Right. We're getting busy. Off to Sion House."
“What for, sir?"
“Come on, and don't argue with your superiors."
"Ay, ay, sir.”


148
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
On their arrival at Sion House, Cross strode into the
manager's office and seemed surprised to find it empty.
He walked out again to exchange a word with Albert.
"Mr. Holmes not about?”.
(“Not as a rule on a Sunday morning, sir. Not now we're
all let, as you might say. When we was still half empty,
he'd be there reg'lar at ten every Sunday morning, but
not now, sir. Them as wants to be tenants 'as to find 'im
on weekdays."
"Law of supply and demand, eh? Where can we find
him?"
· "Why, don't you know, sir? Lives in the 'ouse, 'e does.
Got one of the flats on the ground floor, 'longside the
restaurant. 'Ere, 'arf a mo, sir”-he glanced quickly at the
lift indicator to see whether anyone was calling, though
the buzzer had not sounded—“I'll show you, sir.”
He trotted off happily along the corridor that struck off
from the entrance hall parallel with the front of the build-
ing. At length he stopped before a door labelled simply
"G.1.”
"That's 'im, sir," Albert whispered in a stage aside.
“And if you don't mind, sir, there's no need to mention I
showed you."
“That's all right.”
"Thank you, sir."
Cross knocked at the door, which was opened, after an
interval, by Holmes himself, wearing a dressing-gown. He
seemed none too pleased to see them, but asked them in.
“Sorry to trouble you on a Sunday morning, Mr.
Holmes," Cross remarked pleasantly. “Police work doesn't
take much notice of time-tables. I'm afraid I must go into
a few things with you.”


INSPECTOR CROSS BECOMES ACTIVE
149
"Well, of course, Inspector, you know I don't relish
all this bother, but if it must be done, it must. I hope
there's going to be no unpleasantness.”
“We can't say what will happen, Mr. Holmes. Now,
you remember there was supposed to be a man who called
to inspect the air system on Mr. Wiseman's floor last
Tuesday?"
“No, Inspector; indeed I don't. He wasn't due till next
month. If he made a special call, it should have been
reported to me,” he added.
"Two of Mr. Wiseman's neighbours made complaints.
Miss Prillkins says she reported it to you."
Holmes clicked his fingers.
“Yes, I do remember now. But I never saw the man.
He was admitted by the relief floor valet, who is no longer
with us. He left suddenly to attend his brother's funeral,
so he said, and he has never returned. A man named
James Richards."
“Ah. Do you know where he lived ?”
“He used to have a room in a mews near here, but I
sent round when he didn't come back, and they told me
he'd packed his boxes and gone.”
“Left no address?"
“None."
"Hmph.”
Cross was silent for a space.
“We must find that man, Mr. Holmes. Can you give
us any information?”
“He came here on the recommendation of a Mr. Porter,
one of our directors. He was really engaged without my
intervention. I never liked the man, but I couldn't say
much in the circumstances.” Holmes was obviously resent-


150
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
ful at this intrusion on his sphere. “I understood he had
been Mr. Porter's servant at some time, but I don't really
know. That's all I can say.”
"Can you give me Mr. Porter's address?”
“No, Inspector. It will be in the office, of course, and I
dare say tomorrow morning he might be at our head office
in Grosvenor Place "
"Tomorrow's no good. We'll get the address from your
office. But something else first. We have an engineer from
the Atmospheric Treatment Company coming tomorrow
morning to examine the plant. We want his visit to be
quite unobtrusive. If anyone asks, he's there on your
instructions.”
"Really, Inspector, I think I should be told first of your
arrangements. But I suppose I have no say in the matter.”
His sarcasm was wasted on Cross.
“One thing more. Has anyone been here since Thurs-
day to see the air system?”
"Not so far as I know. I can find out, of course, but on
Sunday ... I'll do my best.”
“Thank you. Let's go along to the office for Mr. Porter's
address.”
“One moment, Inspector, while I slip on some clothes.”
Holmes was a quick changer; in five minutes he re-
appeared his usual suave, discreet self. He led them along
to the office, where he consulted a large leather-bound file
labelled “Office Only. Confidential”. At last he looked up.
"Mr. Porter lives at Richmond-at Nepal Court, one
of our properties down there.” He scribbled the details
on a slip of paper which he handed to Cross. "I'll see if
I can find the answer to your other question."
He disappeared and was gone for twenty minutes, dur-
ing which time Johnny roamed round the office looking at


152
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
to collect anything left behind in the air system?” Johnny
asked at last, more to make conversation than for any
other reason.
“That's the idea, Lamb." Cross nodded as the train
came in. “The only man who saw the workman was this
valet, it seems, and we've got to find him. I don't like
that sudden disappearance. It may mean nothing, of course,
but it's fishy.”
“Yes, it is. He stood not upon the order of his going, but
went at once-and meant to go for good; Holmes said
all his traps had gone."
"H’m.” They were in the train now, and it was rushing
along with the curious swaying motion peculiar to District
non-stops. “They want sailors to be comfortable on these
things,” the inspector remarked. “Bad as an old-fashioned
tram.”
"Undamped periodic oscillation due to an unbalanced
pitching-couple,” Johnny replied gravely; he laughed as
Cross pouted.
“You settle down and work out your guesses, Lamb.
I've got some notes to make.”
He produced his note-book and became lost in his work.
Nepal Court was a very modern concrete block of flats
overlooking the river. It was built on the most advanced
lines, with long, continuous cantilever balconies and the
maximum of window-space. Cross looked at it with dis-
approval; he preferred a cosy two-storeyed house with a
well-pitched tile roof and a bit of garden front and back.
Johnny looked at it with admiration of its efficient, clean
functionalism and its absence of architectural ornament.
The scientist in him was never far below the surface.
A uniformed official conducted them to No. 83, where
Mr. Porter lived, and Cross's ring was answered by a dis-


INSPECTOR CROSS BECOMES ACTIVE 153
creet manservant. He would inquire if Mr. Porter was
free: what name should he give? He betrayed no emotion
when told that the callers were from Scotland Yard.
Mr. Porter received them in a room that was as scientifi-
cally planned as the exterior of the building. In-built furni-
ture fulfilled all the necessary functions, and seating was
provided by low arm-chairs and poufs. Johnny noted with
approbation that there were no lighting fittings, the lamps
being concealed behind a cornice trough. Porter himself
was a man of about forty, of medium height, and with
black hair just shooting grey at the sides. He greeted them
easily and naturally.
“Sit down,” he said. “You were lucky to find me in. I
was just going to take the family out in the car.”
“Then we're having very good luck, sir. It breaks about
evenly, taken all round.”
"It would, you know. The theory of probability says so.”
“Does it, sir? I leave those things to my assistant here,
Sergeant Lamb."
“Ah! The new policeman? The scientific observer in
regulation boots?"
"I don't know about the boots, sir,” Johnny remarked,
smiling disarmingly. “And I don't know about the scientific
observer. I'd just hate to conform to Eddington's defini-
tion."
“Wait a bit. What was that? Let me see.” He stood
considering, a smile on his face. “Wasn't there something
about having only one eye?”
“That was only one thing, sir. That one eye was his
only sense, and it was colour blind, could see in only one
direction at a time, and record nothing but black and
white."
Porter chuckled.


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“That would be no policeman, sir," Cross interposed,
fuming at these pleasantries. “Though some of 'em come
precious near it,” he added with unusual venom. “I came
here, sir, to ask you a question. Did you know we were
engaged on a case at Sion House?”
“Sion House? Indeed I didn't. You see I'm only a
nominal director of the King company. I attend Board
meetings, but otherwise take little part in the company's
affairs. There hasn't been a meeting for over a fortnight.
I'm due next on Tuesday.”
"Well, we are, sir, and we've come about it." Cross
gave a bare outline of the case, revealing no more than
any official of Sion House might have known, and leading
up to the defection of Richards.
“Richards? I shouldn't have thought he would have
decamped like that. Yet he might; he was a curious man
in some ways. I had him here as my man for some time,
and I think it quite likely that if he'd got a better job,
he'd rather walk out than risk a row in giving notice. He
hated scenes.”
"That sounds a little unreliable, sir, if I may say so.
What we really want to know is whether you can help us
to find him.”
Porter shook his head.
"I don't think I can. He lived here with us when he
was in our employ. He left because well, because he
felt he'd rather have an independent life; he hated being
on his work all the time, and I can quite imagine that he'd
prefer living in a hovel of his own to sharing a flat with
his employers. He was like that. No," he added reflectively,
"the only help I can give is that his home was in South-
• ampton-his mother and father were still alive, as well


INSPECTOR CROSS BECOMES ACTIVE
155
u very gral helpful, boked for a
Idn't be moretely I'm booked hunting.'
as a brother who worked in the docks there. You might
try that line."
"You don't know the address, I suppose, sir?" Cross
was feeling disappointed. Getting inquiries made in South-
ampton meant delay. He wanted to have things on the
move.
"I'll ask my wife. I think she may know."
He returned in a minute or two, smiling.
"You said your luck was in, Inspector, and it is. Here's
the address: 259B, Shirley Road, Southampton.”
“Thank you, sir. I'm very grateful.”
"I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. I'd like to run
you back to town, but unfortunately I'm booked for a trip
in the country. Good day, gentlemen, and good hunting."
With further thanks, they departed. On their way to
the station, they stopped at a little café and had some light
refreshment, Cross grumbling at the inadequacy of the
menu. Johnny smiled at his superior's complaints.
“You should be like me, sir-trained to abstemiousness.
It saves the figure and it's kind to the pocket.”
Cross growled by way of reply. He retired into himself
until they were in the train.
"By the way," he said suddenly, sitting up with a start,
"did you see Miss Prillkins the other night?"
Johnny shook his head sorrowfully.
"No, sir. My dreams were shattered. The Prillkins had
gone to some committee meeting or other, and my desola-
tion is not yet filled."
"A pity. You might have found out something."
“I could see her today, perhaps."
"We'll see what's at the office first. That's more im-
portant. I must get on to Southampton, too,” he added.


156
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“Expecting Heppelwhite's report on Gillings, sir?”
“I hope it'll be there. Oh, and there's something else.
I've had Perry checking up on Nimmo. His report ought
to be in soon, but he's not such a sticker as Heppelwhite."
The train discharged them at Westminster. Cross hur-
ried towards Scotland Yard as though fiends were after
him.


158
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
him. Cross reassured him. As he left the room, Cross
glanced at the report.
"I'll read this one,” he said. “You handled the last,
Lamb. Can't let you have all the plums.”
He skimmed through the pages, finally laying them
down with a whistle.
“This shows him up with a vengeance," he remarked
with emphasis. “You can read it later. Let me sum it
up for you now on the main facts. I'll write them down
as I go, and we can discuss them afterwards."
He drew out a wad of ruled foolscap paper, spreading
it in front of him. Then, making himself comfortable in
his chair, he uncapped his fountain-pen-massive, like all
his property; he believed in proportion-and began to
write.
"One: Brimsgrove and Chandler were as thick as thieves.
Chandler came to him about three years ago with the
oil scheme and Brimsgrove fell for it. He looked into it
and agreed to form a company for its development.
Chandler's visits became more and more frequent as time
went on. Gillings knows for a fact that Chandler used to
go down to Sydenham Hill for dinner and weekends."
Cross paused to look across at Johnny with a smile.
“My guess mightn't be so bad about that chemistry
book, you see,” he said.
"No, sir; nor might mine. We'll see later."
“Two: Brimsgrove had always got some shady deal or
other on the board. He formed syndicates and trusts to
buy up shares of companies he'd promoted himself, and
filched the profits. It went on and on until even Brims-
grove himself didn't seem to know his way about in the
maze of affiliations and subsidiaries and what-nots. Same


HEPPELWHITE'S REPORT COMES IN
159
old story. The centre of that maze is usually the Old
Bailey.
“Three: The chickens were coming home to roost dur-
ing the past year. People wanted money that Brimsgrove
had spent. Rumours got about. New companies became
more difficult to float. Yes, it is the same old story. How
many times has it happened?"
"It'll go on happening, sir, as long as the City exists."
"Perhaps so, Lamb; you may be right.
"Four: Brimsgrove formed the Oil Recovery Company
to back Chandler's scheme. That was three years ago. He
got hold of some bloke to help him form a private com-
pany. I expect-yes, Gillings says so here most of the
money went in development expenses', which means, of
course, Brimsgrove's own pocket. Eighteen months ago, the
Coal Liquefaction Syndicate was formed to buy the Oil
Recovery Company from Brimsgrove, though he was to
retain control-all strictly according to tradition. About
the same time, he formed the Albatross and General Trust
to relieve him of a block of shares in the Coal Liquefaction
show. That was when he was beginning to find things
hot.”
“One moment, sir. How did Gillings know all about
this?”
“Personal clerk-bit too personal, I should think. Brims-
grove ought to have used more locks and keys, if you
ask me, by the look of things. Anyway, we can check all
this from Somerset House."
"Right, sir. I only wondered.”
“Where was I? I wish you wouldn't interrupt, Lamb.
I told you we'd discuss it later."
"Sorry, sir.” .


160
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“You'd better be. Five: Gillings knew Chandler made
nothing out of these operations. He was to be chief
engineer as soon as a plant was in working commercial
order and was then to have two thousand a year. Until
then he was to receive two thousand pounds for experi-
mental work, which was to be fully accounted for to
Brimsgrove. The money was spent on development work
somewhere near the Kent coalfields.”
Cross took a fresh sheet of paper, testing his fountain-
pen on his thumb.
“Actually, of course, Chandler stood about as much
chance of getting his two thousand a year as I did. Now
for six-it's worth writing in red.” He laid down his
fountain-pen and picked up a wooden penholder, which he
dipped in the red-ink pot. Then he grimaced.
“No,” he said, laying down the pen. “Red ink's messy
stuff, and the whole thing ought to be written in red, if it
comes to that. Six, then: A year ago, Chandler came to
Brimsgrove and told him all the development grant was
used up. He couldn't get any more stuff to carry on with
-what was he to do? Brimsgrove said all the money was
gone, and that Chandler would have to raise some more
on his reversion under Uncle Joshua's will. He offered to
advance Chandler five thousand pounds at once on condi-
tions. First, the money was to be spent with the Spear
Engineering Company, of which Brimsgrove was govern-
ing director; most of the profit would return to Brims-
grove that way-neat, that. Next, Brimsgrove wouldn't
say anything to the trustees of the estate and wouldn't even
ask for proof of value if Chandler would pay seven-and-a-
half per cent per annum, and he stipulated that if the
interest was more than six months overdue, the whole of


HEPPELWHITE'S REPORT COMES IN
161
the estate was to become his absolute property on Wise-
man's death.”
Johnny was unable to contain himself any longer. He
whistled shrilly.
“Chandler must have been a nit-wit! An insurance com-
pany would have given him better terms than that on a
reversion of that size."
"Perhaps. But remember this: Chandler had no income
but the hundred and fifty under Wright's will, and that
wouldn't cover interest even at five per cent., let alone
seven and a half. Brimsgrove practically assured himself
of the estate. But come, come, Lamb; I keep on saying
we'll discuss the bearings of all this later."
“Very sorry, sir.”
“After all that, we get to point seven: Chandler agreed
to instruct Wiseman's solicitors to pay his allowance direct
to Brimsgrove's bank, and Brimsgrove was to make him
a sort of pocket-money payment so that he could meet his
living-expenses. No, no comments, please, Lamb,” the
inspector added, as Johnny seemed about to interrupt again.
"Of course, the interest fell in arrear. The one-fifty
wasn't sufficient to cover the interest on the loan, and
Chandler was encouraged to spend by Brimsgrove, who
took him round town and introduced him to expensive
friends. So at the end of six months, he was in a position
to claim the lot. But he didn't. Gillings says he was very
nice to Chandler and told him he'd give him time. About
a month ago, just before Gillings left, Brimsgrove sent
an ultimatum that unless the interest was paid up to date
by the end of September, he'd exercise his rights and claim
the reversion when it fell due. Gillings adds that Brims-
grove's intention was to secure his right to the money


162
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
and then raise funds on it himself to meet his more pressing
engagements. Gillings had been instructed to make some
inquiries for him, in fact.
“At that point, Brimsgrove slung Gillings out with a
week's pay in lieu of notice. That seems the end of the
story, except for some general notes about Brimsgrove's
business methods. He seems to have had all the attributes
of the crook money-lender, though he just kept within
the rails until the last year or so. Then he did one or two
fishy things that Gillings never quite got the hang of,
though I'll bet he tried hard enough.”
The inspector relapsed into silence. Johnny made no
comment, but started to think hard about the whole affair.
At last Cross spoke again.
“I expect you're bursting with theories, Lamb," he
said. “I'm not going to indulge you yet. It'll do you
good to sit still and listen a bit longer. I'm going to do
some thinking out loud myself. You can talk later."
He settled back in his chair, produced the cherrywood
pipe, and filled and lit it. Exhaling rapturously, he began
his review:
"All this gives us a pretty good picture of Brimsgrove
and shows some interesting sidelights on Chandler. Brims-
grove lied to us at least once, and Chandler, if he didn't
lie direct, suppressed the truth, which comes to much the
same thing. They were both anxious to make out they
weren't thick and were only chance business colleagues.
That how it appears to you?”
“Yes, sir.” Johnny grinned inwardly; it was like Cross
to stress the most obvious points first.
"Then there's the matter of dates. They all fit in. We
know now why Chandler told Herries to pay the money
to Brimsgrove's bank. We know his affairs came to a


HEPPELWHITE'S REPORT COMES IN
163
crisis six months ago, and the hold Brimsgrove had over
him. We know, too, that Brimsgrove held off and didn't
start really pressing till about a month ago. Pity Gillings
left just in the middle of it, but we can guess that Brims-
grove started playing hell with Chandler and that led
to his seeking Wiseman's help. Even a fool like Chandler
wouldn't want to lose fifty thousand pounds without a
fight. Still with me?”.
“Carry on, sir."
“Chandler hated Wiseman; he admits it. He got des-
perate, made that last throw, and, when it failed, decided
that the one thing left was to accelerate Nature's intentions
with Wiseman. His object was to get Wright's money, pay
off Brimsgrove, and then collar what was left for his own
purposes. You say that ozone caused the death, but that's
got to be proved. If it is—well, Mr. Chandler is heading
for trouble."
Cross blew out a cloud of dense blue smoke with satis-
faction. There was something he could get hold of now;
his Sunday activity was not being unfruitful.
"Well, Lamb, you're very silent; it's not natural. What's
biting you now?"
“Thinking it over, sir.” Johnny was looking distinctly
puzzled. “There's more in this than meets the eye."
"The one-way eye of the scientific observer?” Cross
queried maliciously. He was not likely to forget that re-
mark of Porter's.
"No, sir, the experienced, slightly cynical eye of the man
of the world.”
"Really?”
“Yes, sir. I admit it looks black for Chandler. He had
the means all right, in his chemical knowledge, and the
method was admirably adapted to the purpose. I mean,


164
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
he couldn't have chosen anything better than ozone to get
rid of a man like Wiseman, broken with asthma. But
he hadn't the motive any longer."
“Hadn't a motive?” Cross's tone implied that Johnny
had taken leave of his senses.
“No, sir. A year ago, he might have. If Wiseman had
croaked then, the money would have come to him and
he could have done what he liked with it. But six months
ago he lost his rights to it. Whether Wiseman died
naturally or otherwise, the money went to Brimsgrove."
“Surely not. Brimsgrove held off till the end of Septem-
ber. Gillings says so."
"Only what they call an act of grace, sir, you can bet
your life. Brimsgrove wouldn't waive his rights legally.
If he took all that care to ensure that the money would
be his in any event—as he obviously did by making sure
Chandler couldn't keep up the interest-he wouldn't
destroy his own handiwork by sheer kindheartedness."
“That's a point,” Cross commented slowly. “Go on."
"So if Chandler bumped old Wiseman, he did it out of
kindness to Brimsgrove, which doesn't seem likely."
“Not put that way.” It was the inspector's turn to look
puzzled. “What's your view, then?”
“I can only guess, sir," Johnny replied, with an innocent
smile. “Guessing is taboo."
"Let's have it. This isn't a time for fooling."
“Here's a guess for you, then. Brimsgrove wanted the
money badly. If he kept to the terms of the agreement
with Chandler, it wouldn't help him much. He'd have to
wait for Wiseman's death to realize the estate, for an
advance wouldn't come to anything like the total sum.
So far as ready cash was concerned, Chandler was no good
to him. He could take the hundred and fifty a year, but


HEPPELWHITE'S REPORT COMES IN
165
what he wanted was obviously something big to meet
his commitments. Having seen Chandler, I shouldn't be
surprised if in those circumstances he'd want Wiseman to
go on living, just to spite Brimsgrove."
"That's guesswork. Chandler said he wanted Wiseman
to die."
“Yes, sir, in the heat of a row, but perhaps not to the
extent of wanting to murder him. Chandler doesn't strike
me as having any strong passions outside his work.”
"You may be right.”
"He was afraid of Brimsgrove, and Brimsgrove had got
him well under. So I think it's not wildly improbable
that they came to some further secret arrangement, and
Brimsgrove cleared Gillings out so that he shouldn't know
about it.”
Cross looked interested.
“Yes?” he asked eagerly.
“Why shouldn't Brimsgrove have suggested that Chan-
dler should use his knowledge to get rid of Wiseman un-
obtrusively, and that he should forget about the loan and
split the proceeds, giving Chandler only a little, perhaps,
and raking in the bulk himself?” .
Cross made no immediate reply.
"It's a theory,” he admitted at last. “A workable theory.
As you say, Chandler wouldn't benefit if he did it on
his own. Brimsgrove wouldn't have the knowledge to do it
himself. The two of 'em together would have everything,
motive and means.”
“We're not sure about opportunity yet, sir,” Johnny
interposed very quietly. “We've got to prove that.”
Cross ran his fingers through his hair in dismay.
“Everywhere we get to, there's a snag,” he groaned.
“This is a lousy case.”


166
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“Surely not, sir,” Johnny retorted in mock seriousness.
“It's a gem, sir. We can sharpen our wits."
The telephone bell rang suddenly. Cross picked up the
receiver, made a few notes while he listened, and hung
up with little more than formal thanks.
“Southampton," he said shortly, rising to his feet.
“They've seen the Richards family. James merely left Sion
House because he didn't like it. He's got a private job
again in the West End. We'll go round and see him
straight away. He's valet to Percy Dalby, the explorer, who
lives in Curzon Street."
Johnny followed his superior without enthusiasm. It
was past five o'clock, and the one meal of the day that
Johnny really missed was tea, especially on Sunday. He
grumbled to himself as he strode along by the inspector's
side.


CHAPTER XVI
SMOKE APPEARS AT SION HOUSE
James RICHARDS was a shrivelled little man with thinning
grey hair and a pronounced nervousness of habit. He
could not keep still for long, and his eyes, the whites of
which were veined and yellowed, were constantly shifting.
He looked at Inspector Cross with frank displeasure,
though he was secretly glad that the police had arrived
when, except for the other servants out of sight in the
basement, he had the house to himself. His master was
visiting for the week-end.
"I never meant no 'arm when I left Sion 'Ouse, sir.
I just couldn't stand 'aving to run about for them people.
Used to lookin' arter one gentleman, sir, proper, and not
bein' at the beck an' call o’’arf a dozen. Nor could I
stand that there 'Olmes, sir, as nasty a bit of work as ever
I see.”
Though he hailed from Southampton, his accent and
mode of speech were very markedly Cockney; the polite
tone he reserved for his professional appearances had left
him in his nervousness at the detectives' visit.
“You could have given notice in the proper manner,
I suppose.” Cross eyed the man shrewdly, summing him
up as a born grouser to whom all conditions became in-
tolerable after a time.
"Not with that 'Olmes, sir. 'E'd only 'a' taken it out
167


168
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
o' me, sir, and since I 'ad shell-shock durin' the war, I
carn't a-stand rows."
“We haven't come about that, anyway, Richards.” The
man's expression lightened. “We want to ask you some
questions about last Tuesday, when you were acting as
relief for Johnson in the west-wing top floor at Sion House.
Do you remember?"
“Yessir," he replied uneasily, his nervousness returning.
"I 'opes that I did nothin' wrong "
"Mr. Wiseman was found dead on Thursday morning,”
Cross announced, rather brutally. “We want to ask you
some questions about a visitor on Tuesday afternoon."
“A visitor, sir? It's a shock to me to 'ear wot you says
about Mr. Wiseman. So sudden, sir.”
"Never mind that; that's our business. Do you remem-
ber a man coming to look after the air system in those
flats?”
Richards stopped to think.
“Yessir. He came latish in the afternoon. Came up the
stairs, 'e did, and told me 'is mates was workin' down
below and 'e'd bin sent up to see to things. I remember
thinkin' it was a bit queer I 'adn't bin told, but that man
Johnson, sir, was allus in a 'urry to git away on his after-
noons orf, and I suppose 'e'd forgot in 'is 'aste.”
“Were you supposed to let men look round without
authority?”
"Not strictly, sir. But 'e seemed to be genuine, and
when I says to 'im I didn't know nothin' about it, 'e
chuckles and says, 'That's orlright, mate, I ain't no burglar',
an' he gives me a card. It 'ad the name of the company on
it, and I lets 'im get on with it."
“A card, eh? Did you keep it?”
The man wrinkled his brow in an effort of memory.


SMOKE APPEARS AT SION HOUSE
169
"I may ’ave, sir. I seem to remember puttin' it in me
pocket. I was in uniform, sir, and I left that in the staff-
room in the basement; we allus 'ad to change in the 'ouse.
If it's still there, the card'll be there too, I expect, sir.”
“Good. Can you describe the man?”
"Carn't say as I noticed 'im pertickler. 'E seemed to
’ave a cold, sir, 'is voice being sort of muffled. 'E was
dressed in one of them brown overall suits, and 'ad a large
toolbag that I 'elped 'im carry. It was 'eavy, sir, and 'e
said 'e'd carried it upstairs 'cos there weren't no lift 'andy
and 'e'd bin workin' from floor to floor."
“Where did he go?”.
"I 'elped 'im with 'is bag as far as the door of Miss
Prillkins's flat, sir. 'E said that was good enough, and I
went on back to me work.”
“But what was the man himself like?”
"I don't know, sir.” His voice was plaintive. "E was
shortish and seemed quiet like. And 'e seemed sort of
short-sighted, 'cos 'e peered about all the time as though
'e couldn't see proper."
"As though he was used to glasses and hadn't got them
on,” Johnny asked suddenly.
"Might be, sir. But I didn't reely notice 'im to speak of.
I was busy, sir, with me own rooms and Johnson's to do
as well, and it was gettin' near the time when I ’ad to fetch
teas from the restaurant. I wanted to get on, sir," he con-
cluded on a note of misery.
“All right. No more you can tell us?”
The man cudgelled his brains, finally shaking his head.
“No, sir, nothin' at all. I didn't ’ave no cause to notice
'im, sir; 'e seemed orlright, and that was all that mat-
tered, and— ”
"We understand.” The inspector checked him with a


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
large hand. “That's all. But remember, Richards-don't
disappear again. You've given us a lot of trouble. If you
change your job again, leave word here or with us where
you're to be found. Understand?"
“Yessir. I never meant no 'arm— ".
“No. But you know now, so don't forget.”
They left the man still protesting his innocent inten-
tions. Cross paused on the pavement.
“I should have thought a valet would have noticed
people better than that,” he commented.
“Not a workman, sir. They'll sum up people who call
on their bosses, but workmen they're inclined to ignore
as beneath their notice. It's a matter of social distinction.
Your valet's a parasite who thrives on only one kind of
host,” he added with a smile.
“Bit acid sometimes, aren't you, Lamb? Let's get on
to Sion House and see if that uniform's still there. I'd like
to see that card."
"I'm sure Mr. Holmes-dear Mr. Holmes—will be
pleased to see us again. Nothing would make his heart
grow fonder than our continued absence, you know, sir."
Mr. Holmes was far from pleased to see them. Sunday
was the one day when he had some respite from his
warring tenants. He was not officially on duty, but it
was known that he was available for emergencies. His
peace was therefore never absolute; some denizens of the
building, among them the General and Miss Prillkins,
interpreted almost anything as an emergency.
Cross told him briefly what was wanted. A man was
sent to find the uniform, which was discovered still hang-
ing on its peg. Holmes not having officially announced
Richard's departure, it had been nobody's business to
remove it.


SMOKE APPEARS AT SION HOUSE
173
They found Holmes waiting for them in the entrance
hall. He was obviously excited and upset.
“Only a few moments after you had left, Inspector,"
he snapped. “Smoke on the top-floor west wing. We got all
the people out-luckily only Miss Prillkins and the Gen-
eral were in-and your man stood it as long as he could,
but he came out at last, gasping. We called the brigade,
of course, and put our own measures into action. The
firemen are still here, but they can't find any fire. They
say it was chemical smoke, Inspector. Inexplicable." He
was dancing with annoyance.
“Has anything else happened?”.
"I don't know. The brigade are in charge.”
Cross rushed for the lift, and the party was transported
upwards. On the sixth floor they found Cozens and a
fireman deep in conversation. The former saluted as Cross
came up.
"Just been round, sir. An attempt was made to break
open a door in the wall here—an inspection door or some-
thing.” He pointed to a square steel door in the wall.
Cross turned to Holmes.
“What is that?"
“One of the inspection doors of the air plant."
Cross whistled.
“Which Alat does it belong to?” Johnny broke in eagerly.
Holmes examined a brass plate on the door.
“This is the main distributor for the floor, Sergeant."
“Where is the inspection door for Mr. Wiseman's fat?”
“Immediately on the left.”
Johnny turned to Cross with a smile.
“Useful evidence, I think, sir. Shall we have it tested
for prints?"
"Yes; but I don't suppose there'll be any." He turned


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
to Cozens and gave some instructions. Then he stretched
himself.
“We'll leave the rest till the morning," he remarked.
“Come on, Lamb. ...
“You go home and think,” Cross said, after he had dis-
missed the police car at the entrance to Sion House. "I
want a rest and some grub. We'll be here again tomorrow.
This is too melodramatic for me."
“Seems a bit stupid, doesn't it?" Johnny smiled cheer-
fully. “I wonder why friend Nimmo was out when it
happened?"
Without waiting for a reply, he swung himself on a
passing bus, waving a cheery farewell to the inspector, who
remained with a surprised expression on his face.


CHAPTER XVII
SERGEANT LAMB RECEIVES SUPPORT
WILLIAMS was the first to arrive at Sion House on Monday
morning. He declined the porter's invitation either to go
along to the manager's office or to wait in one of the rest
rooms, preferring to remain in the entrance hall, which
he had not seen since the building had been in occupation.
The last time he was there was when he had supervised
the final tests on the air system; the walls had been still
damp; no decorations had been put in; and the whole
place was a happy hunting-ground for workmen. He was
impressed by the change, particularly by the way in which
the crude shell he remembered had taken on individuality
and character.
It was not long before he was joined by Cross and
Johnny Lamb, who arrived almost simultaneously. Their
greetings were slightly formal, in the manner of men in
the morning. They moved off to the office, where they
acquainted Holmes of what they proposed to do and asked,
as a formality, if he would care to attend, hoping that he
would decline. He did not from lack of interest, but
rather because he had been summoned, by the morning
post, to attend his employers' head office to make a report
on the recent events in the house. As a result, he was
even less cordial than usual.
“Shall we start right away?” Williams asked, when
175


SERGEANT LAMB RECEIVES SUPPORT
177
"Then he wasn't one of our men. A Service Department
card would be left only by a supervisor or a control engineer
calling to make inquiries. The men have identification
cards they carry about with them to put doubts at rest."
"How do they dress?”
"Same as any other fitters. They look like gas-com-
pany's men, except that they don't wear a uniform cap."
"Brown boiler suits or overalls?”
“Not as a rule. Usually they wear a blue bib-overall-
you know, trousers and a bib over the chest. Why?"
“Chap who came here wore a brown boiler suit,” Cross
said tersely.
· "By the way, a funny coincidence has turned up in this
case, Mr. Williams,” Johnny broke in with a nonchalant
air. “It turns out that a connection of Mr. Wiseman's
was previously with your people. I wonder if you remem-
ber him-bloke named Hugh Chandler."
“Chandler-Chandler?” Williams repeated the name as
he considered. “Oh yes, I recall him vaguely. About five
years ago. We were doing some special research work at
the time—by Jove, yes, into ozonization of all things!"-
he looked at Johnny very keenly and paused. "He came,
so far as I remember, as a temporary man in the lab. Rather
an expert in his line, I believe, young, a bit inexperienced
practically, but far ahead of most of us in theory. He soon
shot out, though. I fancy he thought it was rather beneath
him. Can I have his record turned up for you?"
Johnny glanced at Cross, who replied:
“We've got to check up on everyone as a matter of
routine,” he said offhandedly. “Would it be giving you too
much trouble?"
“Not a bit. If I could 'phone the office, they'll look it


178
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
out and send it round. It'll probably tickle my memory and
enable me to tell you more.”
Cross indicated the telephone. He had given instructions
for it to be left in action. Wiseman's flat made an excellent
private rendezvous for possible discussions.
Williams got through and gave his instructions. When he
had finished, Cross briefly related the smoke incident of
the night before. The engineer chuckled.
“Smoked everyone out, and then blinded himself or got
panicky. I shan't take to crime, Inspector; sounds too
risky.”
There was a constable stationed at each end of the pas-
sage to prevent unauthorized intrusion while the examina-
tion was made. The three tenants had been asked to
remain in their flats until permitted to leave. Nimmo alone
had asked to be allowed to go to his office, agreeing to
depart soon after nine instead of at the usual ten o'clock.
As they went into the corridor, they met him hurrying
off. He looked particularly neat in his outdoor clothes; his
black overcoat was perfectly brushed, and his bowler hat,
his rolled umbrella, and his brown leather dispatch-case,
all contributed to the picture of urbane respectability.
Cross greeted him cheerfully.
“Oh yes.” Nimmo peered at the three. “Of course, it's
you, Inspector. I hope your inquiries are being successful?
You have something special on this morning? Well, well,
perhaps you'll find something."
"You were lucky to miss that upset last night, sir."
"Upset? Oh yes—they thought there was a fire. I heard
about it from the General. Another mystery for you,
Inspector.”
He smiled faintly and, waving his umbrella, went on his
way. Johnny watched him out of sight, a frown on his


SERGEANT LAMB RECEIVES SUPPORT
179
brow, which vanished as soon as Williams got to work.
“There are five inspection doors in this corridor,” the
engineer explained, indicating the steel panels in the wall.
“One covers the general distributor, and each of the four
others pertains to one of the flats.” He looked at the
damaged general door with amusement. “Funny the man
didn't know it was a flush-fitting steel door that couldn't
be prised with a screwdriver.”
Neither of the detectives made any comment. Williams
glanced quickly at them and turned to the task in hand,
an amused look on his face.
"Shall I open up now?” he asked. “We may as well put
ourselves out of our misery."
“Carry on, Mr. Williams.”
He produced a key of the type used for railway-carriage
doors from a small bag he carried. He turned to one of
the doors, pointing out that it bore the number of Wise-
man's flat. There was a tense silence as he turned the key
and slowly swung open the door to reveal a cavity built
in the wall. It was dark inside. Little could be seen until
Williams flashed his electric torch into the interior.
"Don't disturb anything, Cross warned. Williams
nodded, gazing with intense interest into the cavity.
“Here we are," he called at last. “I think this is what
we are looking for."
Johnny sprang forward and peered over his shoulder.
“That larger pipe is the incoming main,” Williams ex-
plained. “The smaller pipe tee'd off at right-angles is the
inlet to the flat. There should be just an ordinary right-
angle union there, with a small pressure-reducing box and
a valve. But there's a steel bottle there now, tee'd off from
the main. See?"
Johnny nodded excitedly. His eyes were aglow. He


180
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
beckoned to Cross, who stared into the space, noting the
arrangements as Johnny re-described them to him.
"Shall I take it out now?” Williams inquired.
“We ought to have a look round first. Perhaps you'll
do so, Lamb. There might be some finger-prints.”
Johnny thrust his head into the cavity and spent several
minutes in a careful examination. First of all he looked
over the actual union; then he turned his attention, ap-
parently with some set purpose, to the floor of the space.
He emerged from the hole in order to feel in his pocket,
from which he took his note-book. Having torn a sheet
from this, he carefully swept up the dust from below the
union, wrapping it up in a little packet such as chemists
make to contain powders. Then he came out into the open
again. He asked if Cross had any stamp-edging; he had, in
his large wallet. With this, Johnny sealed the packet and
disposed of it in his leather pocketbook.
“Wouldn't it be a good idea,” he suggested, "if we
didn't unscrew the bottle, but had it cut out as it is from
the pipes? That could be done, couldn't it?” .
Williams nodded assent.
“Yes. I could isolate this run from the section distributor
so that the rest of the flats wouldn't be disturbed. Then I
can cut it out with a hacksaw. I've one in my bag—I came
prepared for anything,” he added with a smile.
“Good. Will you do that, then?"
While the engineer was at work-he found nothing
wrong in the main section-distributor cavity-Cozens came
up with an official envelope, which he presented to Cross.
The latter tore it open, calling Johnny to his side.
“No finger-prints on that door," he said briefly as he read
the paper. “Can't understand that riot last night at all.
Can you?”


SERGEANT LAMB RECEIVES SUPPORT
181
“I might guess, sir, but I'd rather not.” Johnny smirked
unctuously.
“No, don't; and don't be insubordinate. It gets on my
nerves.” Cross's grim mouth twitched as he thrust the
report in his pocket.
At length Williams finished. It was not easy working
in the confined space. The saw had to be used on a very
short stroke, which made cutting difficult. Twice the blade
broke and had to be replaced. But now he stepped back,
tenderly holding the assembly by the sawn ends of the
pipes.
“I don't think I've botched any finger-prints," he said.
“I'm beginning to think I shall become a detective. Shall I
take it into the flat?”
Cross nodded, opening the door and leading the way in.
The unit was laid on the table, on which Johnny had
spread some sheets of newspaper taken from the waste-
paper-basket, still unemptied from the day of Wiseman's
death. The three of them stood back, gazing at the as-
sembly as though it was some rare exhibit.
Williams was the first to speak.
“I think that proves it,” he said. “Some gas or other
was contained in that steel bottle, and it was fed into the
ingoing air to the flat. But it's mighty small. I'd like to
see it more closely. I wonder, Inspector—could you get your
finger-print men down here to do their stuff quickly, so
that I could take the whole thing to pieces a little later on?
I can give you most of the day, but tomorrow I'm due in
Manchester to take passing-out tests on a contract, and I
may have to stay two or three days."
“I'll fix it. Would you care to come back in a couple of
hours?"
"Fine. I can slip back to the office and see what the post


SERGEANT LAMB RECEIVES SUPPORT
183
and you know it. Williams said that some gas had been
in the bottle, and that's all. There are other gases besides
ozone, aren't there?”
“Yes, sir, but none fits in with all the other facts.”
Johnny was grinning broadly now. “I did a bit of chemis-
try last night, sir, and got proof positive."
“What have you found now?"
“The iodine, sir. It's one of the best tests for ozone and
it's usually used in labs. for experiments. That iodine had
crystallized into iodic acid.”
“Well?”
"Ozone has that effect on iodine, sir. Of course, the
reaction would be weak, because this was only a com-
mercial tincture containing water and alcohol, but the
reaction's there, and that clinches it.”
"You'd swear to that? You're sure no professor could
get up in court and prove otherwise?”
“He'd have to disprove every known work on chemistry
that's ever been printed,” Johnny replied with rather sweep-
ing emphasis. “Especially when the rusting and bleaching
are added. But there's one thing about the rusting I've
got to explain.”
"Heavens above! Another snag? I was just beginning
to think we'd settled the cause of death, and you bring
something else up. What is it?"
"That curtain rod, sir. Why did it rust so much that it
broke? It's outside the main area of corrosion, yet it had
rusted fastest of all.”
“Don't ask me. Any ideas?”.
“Yes. I'll work it out while Williams is away."
“Do. He knows too much already.”
Johnny pulled a chair over to the window and clambered
up until he could just peer above the curtain rail. He


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
searched closely for a minute or two before climbing down
with a satisfied expression.
“And that's that,” he announced happily. “Part One is
now complete; Part Two will follow immediately—I hope,”
he added beneath his breath.
"What is all this about?"
“Do you remember Williams's description of the ventila-
tion?"
“Bits of it, but I left that to you."
"Perhaps you remember he said that the air was ex-
tracted from the room as well as brought in through the
inlet. Do you, sir?”
“Yes.”
“The extractors are above the windows. That accounts
for the curtain rod.”
"How?"
“The extractor was probably closed as far as it would
go. We must ask Williams about that, by the way. He
said that it couldn't be closed entirely and that there must
always be some circulation. That means that some of the
air would go straight across from the inlet to the outlet,
carrying the ozone with it. The rod would be in the
direct line. If there'd been metal things across the ceiling,
we should have seen its trail.”
"H'm. Then you're convinced it was ozone. What about
the other snag—the quantity? Is that bottle big enough?”
“Looks small,” Johnny replied, wrinkling his nose. “We
must wait till we've examined it.”
Cross sighed.
“I hope to goodness it will be big enough. This case is
getting on my nerves. There's always a snag somewhere.
It's time those ruddy finger-print people were here,” he
a los mergey The stili per le sang somewhere


SERGEANT LAMB RECEIVES SUPPORT
185
added. “I'll give 'em ten minutes more, and then I'll ring
again and raise hell.”
Nine of the ten minutes had expired when the experts
arrived, apologizing profusely and muttering about traffic
hold-ups.
Cross grunted and showed them what he wanted tested.
Then, with Johnny beside him, he wandered out into
the passage.
"How did the bloke get in last night to monkey with
that door?” he asked fiercely, looking at the scars on the
cellulosed surface.
“The answer's in front of you, sir, if you face this way."
Cross turned so that he looked straight along to the
end of the corridor remote from the lift. Red letters, four
inches high, blazoned the words: Fire Exit. He nodded,
strolling along to the doors, which opened outwards and
were provided with crush locks. Forcing the doors open, he
stepped out on an iron platform that terminated a long
iron staircase leading from the ground.
"Better have those rails tested as well,” he remarked.
“Those finger-print people may as well do some work
while they're here."
He returned to the flat to give his instructions.


MR. WILLIAMS SOLVES SOME PUZZLES 187
plant himself in our fitting-shops. Left after three-and-a-
half months. Yes, I remember now," he chuckled.
“He came into my office one morning-technically he
was on my staff, though his work was right outside mine.
He just drifted in and said he was leaving. I asked him
why. 'Going to do some research,' he answered. He told
me he'd ben working at some invention or other and
wanted to give it his whole time. I asked him about money,
and he seemed offended. He said he didn't need it; and
at the end of the week he walked out without even saying
good-bye. That was Chandler."
“Do you remember him personally?"
"Not much. He was one of those people who don't
make any strong impression. If they're good, you look on
'em just as you look on automatics—as production ma-
chines. If they're bad, you sack 'em because they're least
likely to start trouble; they just go."
“That's quite useful, Mr. Williams. Thank you."
Williams half closed his eyes without speaking and
turned to the table.
"All right for me to start?” he asked.
"Okay,” Johnny replied, drawing a chair up to the table
and preparing to watch with close attention.
Williams picked up his bag, taking from it several
wrenches, a screwdriver, and a pipe vice. The latter he
screwed to the table, packing the clamp-jaws with pieces
of cardboard so that they would not mark the wood.
"Just a moment before you start,” Johnny said. "I'd like
to take a look at it as it is.” He leant over it, scrutinizing
the various parts and paying special attention to the unions
at either end of the bottle.
“Right-oh," he remarked at last. "Carry on.”


188
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
Williams, however, preferred to make an examination
on his own before taking the assembly to pieces.
“The flats on the nuts are a bit worn,” he commented.
“I expect he had to use what he could find.”
Johnny nodded without speaking.
First of all Williams gripped in the vice the sawn end
of the pipe that had joined the main distributor; then,
with an adjustable wrench, he eased off the nut. There
was now left the steel bottle and the length of pipe that
had been part of the room inlet run. He operated similarly
on this piping, thus freeing the bottle of all attachments.
While they examined the bottle, Cross joined them; he
had not been interested in the preparations.
“There seems to be a joint about an inch from the top,"
Williams remarked. “Shall I unscrew it?"
“Not yet,” Johnny replied. “Let's measure the whole
thing up, excluding the unions. It's cylindrical as nearly
as possible, so we can get an idea of the capacity from the
exterior and check up with what we find inside.”
“Sound idea.”
The engineer returned to his bag, this time producing a
pair of large callipers and a steel rule. Having carefully
adjusted the callipers to a nice fit on the diameter of the
bottle, he slid them off and read off the measurement on
the rule.
“Six and thirteen-sixteenths,” he announced. Johnny
noted the figure on a page of his book, while Williams
measured the length.
“Only approximate," he remarked, after taking several
measurements. “The ends are slightly dished, and that
makes it difficult to get a precise figure. I make it about
eleven-and-a-half inches.”


MR. WILLIAMS SOLVES SOME PUZZLES 189
“That'll be good enough. We can reassemble it and check
later, if necessary."
“Now shall I strip it?"
"Please.”
Cross was already beginning to feel a little out of his
depth. The language was becoming technical.
“What's 'dished' mean?” he asked Johnny.
“Something like domed—a sort of cross between conical
and hemispherical.”
Cross nodded, wondering why, if a thing was domed,
they could not say so plainly.
Williams now took a chain-grip wrench from the bag
and slipped the chain round the cylinder. Then, with a
large tube wrench, he proceeded carefully to unscrew the
top part of the cylinder. It came away, revealing that the
main part consisted of a hollow cylindrical shell. The top
part, however, carried a pipe with a metal skirt attached
to it, rather like the cowl of a domestic geyser. The engi-
neer whistled as he saw it.
“Clever-very clever. A kind of venturi.”
“What's that for?" Cross was not going to be left out
in the cold.
"Well, the air flows up this tube from the conditioner
downstairs. This skirt, or cowl, communicates with what
was in the bottle. As the air flows on, it creates a vacuum
in the skirt and sucks in some of the gas from the bottle.
In that way the amount of gas mixing with the air can
be controlled.”
"I see,” Cross said bravely.
"He used gas, not liquid,” Johnny remarked. "Even
now, I don't see ”.
“Where it all came from?” Williams smiled. “As they
say on the talkies ‘you ain't seen nuffin' yet. There's a


190
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
rather neat little mechanism here." He loosened a few
screws and took out a little cylinder inside which were
gears and a spring. “A timing valve,” he explained. “Our
friend wasn't going to waste his gas. It probably wasn't
released until he was sure he was clear. If it had been set
free on Tuesday, Wiseman would've been dead on Wednes-
day. This device ensured that he wasn't. The gas wasn't
liberated until Wednesday night."
There was a pause. Both Cross and Johnny were absorb-
ing the new facts, the former striving to understand, the
latter testing them to see how they fitted with his theory,
“Got any inside callipers?” Johnny asked at last. “We
must get the volume of the cylinder.”
• "We've got the outside ones.” Williams sprung the legs
of the callipers over each other so that they crossed. “This
is an old workshop trick-quite accurate enough for what
we want."
He carefully measured the internal diameter, scaled it
off, and checked it.
“Just under six inches, but it's probably six inches
exactly if we had a more accurate means of measurement.
So the sides are thirteen-thirty-seconds thick.” He slid
the rule into the cylinder to ascertain the depth. “Ten
inches. You've got a cylinder six inches diameter by ten
inches high.”
“Reduced by the volume of the central pipe,” Johnny
corrected.
"If you want to be dead accurate ... Let me see.” He
measured the diameter of the pipe. “Half-inch. He reduced
the diameter of the feed pipe from the distributor so that
he would get greater velocity for his intake. Clever man,
whoever did it.”
"Let's work it out.” Johnny produced his circular slide-


MR. WILLIAMS SOLVES SOME PUZZLES
191
rule, to Williams's obvious surprise. He checked Johnny
from starting.
"Wait a bit.” He took out a cloth-covered pocket-book.
“I've got a table of circle areas here; that'll simplify things.
Here you are.” He consulted a table. "Six inches gives
you twenty-eight point two-seven-four square inches. Multi-
ply by the height, ten inches, and your volume's two-
eighty-two point seven-four. Right?"
Johnny noted it down.
“You want the other volume. Half-inch circle gives
nought point one-nine-six-three square inches. Multiply by
ten, and you get one point nine-six-three. Now deduct one
from the other. It's about two eighty—what do you make
it exactly?”
Johnny scribbled for a moment.
“Two eighty point seven-eight to two places-we'll say
two eighty."
“Does that get us anywhere?” Cross asked the question
almost petulantly. He was pacing up and down impatiently,
anxious to get all this technical talk out of the way and
come to some result he could handle.
"It's not enough as it stands to give a fatal strength of
ozone in the room,” Johnny replied thoughtfully. “But
he might have compressed it. How can we tell? Looks
like another snag, sir?” he added brightly, as he saw the
despairing look in the inspector's eyes.
“I think we can assume the gas was under pressure,"
Williams interposed quietly.
"How?"
“This way: There wouldn't be a big enough venturi
effect—that's the sucking action, Inspector—to draw in
anything but a little gas. Nothing like one in twenty
thousand, which is the minimum for a fatal effect. If the


MR. WILLIAMS SOLVES SOME PUZZLES
193
the room, it would have to be compressed. Here we have a
container in which compression was not only possible, but
likely. So I think we're entitled to accept the probability as
nearly a certainty. What do you say, sir?”
“I say it's near enough. Your scientific evidence can
never get beyond the probability stage-well, very, very
rarely. A man's poisoned and the doctors say what the
poison was. But when we ask how it was administered,
all they can say, nine times out of ten, is that of half-a-
dozen ways one is the most likely. In the end, it's the plain,
unvarnished policeman who gets at the facts.”
"That's true, of course,” Johnny answered. “But after all,
science gives you the starting point. You couldn't do with-
out it."
"I'm not saying you could. I'd be a fool if I did.” Cross
stretched himself. “Take this case. You and Mr. Williams
have brought to light a lot of facts I shouldn't have seen for
myself, but the brunt of it all will fall on the inquiries
that those facts set in motion. Science alone couldn't do it.
You've got to have a sense of proportion and mix the two
together. There are more cases that routine inquiry can
handle by itself without science than cases that science
could even try to tidy up. Then there's this: Your layman's
always a bit suspicious of a scientist, because the professors
always seem to him to be changing their minds; so a jury
has to be convinced by evidence it can understand and
believes it can rely on. You may start a case with science;
it may give the right line and show which facts are relevant
and which aren't. More often than not, though, the
scientific evidence at the trial will stay out of sight, because
it would only fog the jury."
The inspector paused. This was an unusually long and


194
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
thoughtful speech for him. Johnny wondered why he had
made it. Williams made no comment, though he looked
deeply interested.
“And now, Mr. Williams, if you've finished, I think we'll
say good-bye. We've got some more work to do elsewhere,
and I expect you have too."
“Yes, Inspector; there's plenty waiting for me. I'd like
to say how grateful I am to you for this opportunity. It's
made a break in my day-to-day routine, and I've en-
joyed it.”
"It's very nice of you to say so. We're very grateful
to you."
They shook hands with great cordiality. As the door
closed behind Williams, Johnny turned to Cross with an
impertinent gesture.
"Why the lecture, sir?”.
“Two reasons—and you ought to see 'em. I wanted to
show him he didn't know all about the case, and that what
he'd done was only a bit of it; we can't have him getting
ideas into his head. And I wanted to give you some prac-
tical advice. Don't let the scientific stuff dominate your
mind, Lamb. Use it as a foundation and build up on it.
I wish I had more of it, but it wasn't the thing in my
young days. No, I'm not starting all over again," he
added, as he saw a grin broadening on Johnny's face.
"Let's go and have a bite and get back to the office.”
"Yes, sir. For a change, I want a big meal.”
"Good. I said you'd the makings of a real policeman in
you.”


CHAPTER XIX
MR. BRIMSGROVE CALLS AT SCOTLAND YARD
THE joint report of Heppelwhite and Perry came in late
on Monday afternoon. Used as he was to Heppelwhite's
efficiency, Cross could not refrain from expressing his
admiration at the way in which all the circumstances
surrounding Nimmo's relations with Wiseman had been
unearthed. Perry had proceeded on the orthodox lines,
while Heppelwhite had ingratiated himself into the friend-
ship of various members of the staff of Charles Nimmo,
Ltd. Though the completed tale was not so elaborate as
the report on Brimsgrove, it was detailed enough, when
all the items had been synthesized, to provide a fairly good
picture of the Nimmo-Wiseman relationship.
Six years ago, Charles Nimmo had perfected the now
widely used Nimmo retort for coal-gas manufacture, and
he had found himself unable to finance the new plant
necessary for its construction in quantity. Two courses lay
open to him. One was to form the business he had inherited
from his father, then known simply as Charles Nimmo
and Son, into a public company and invite subscriptions by
advertisement, a course from which his whole being re-
coiled—he had an old-fashioned enthusiasm for his firm,
which he looked on as his personal property; the other was
to seek some private help. The slump had hit the business
fairly hard, so it was useless to approach the bank, as he
195


196
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
might have done in happier times. Eventually he asked his
solicitor to make a few inquiries. The result was an intro-
duction to Samuel Wiseman, who expressed his readiness,
provided the plans were approved, to put twenty thousand
pounds into the business as a start and to consider further
advances later.
It was not long, however, before Wiseman's conditions
were formulated. He was still ready to put down the
money, but his investigations into the affairs of Charles
Nimmo and Son had not altogether satisfied him. He
insisted on wholesale reconstruction. Nimmo himself was
to give up the controlling interest, and a new and younger
man was to be installed as managing director of a private
limited company that was to be formed. The whole under-
taking was to be reorganized on those up-to-date lines
which Nimmo hated and regarded as soulless.
Wiseman's ideas of business were directly opposed to
Nimmo's: the former looked on any concern as a machine
for making profit, while the latter retained the belief,
largely outmoded, that a firm was better off if it sacrificed
some profit to turning out the best product it could.
Nimmo had gone too far to withdraw. The agreement
was drawn up and the transaction concluded. The new
managing director proceeded to upset all Nimmo's ideas
and to ride rough-shod over the most treasured traditions
of the firm. True, in name the business was still Nimmo's,
but his personal enthusiasm for it was killed. Not even
the success of the retort compensated him for what he
regarded as the degradation of the firm. He became a
changed man. His attitude of hostility to Wiseman was
a subject of common remark in the London office, where
it was noticed that though from sheer force of habit Nimmo


MR. BRIMSGROVE CALLS AT SCOTLAND YARD
197
came in daily, he always absented himself when Wiseman
chose to call. Wiseman's visits were infrequent, however;
he drew his profits, and once the reorganized business had
got under way, he left affairs entirely to his nominee.
Chance remarks that Heppelwhite had ingeniously col-
lected threw some light on both Nimmo's views of Wise-
man and his general mode of life. He had been heard on
several occasions to express the opinion that Wiseman was
a skunk for whom hanging was too good; in the past
four or five years he had, in business at any rate, become
soured. In the past he had always been mild and courteous,
but latterly there had been an undercurrent of harshness,
so that whereas before he had been the friend of his em-
ployees, now he was irritable and hard to please. Three
years ago, Wiseman had put more money in the business
and even the nominal control passed from Nimmo's hands,
leaving him nothing more than a figurehead whose name
and standing were respected throughout the trade.
Cross laid down the report thoughtfully. He had read
it in silence and passed it to Johnny without comment. The
latter studied it with interest. When he had finished, he
also looked thoughtful. He glanced up at last with sudden
brightness.
"The time has come, sir, to talk of many things. We
ought to have what the American 'tecs on the pictures
call 'a line up'. We've got all sorts of new facts in the past
day or two, and we haven't had an opportunity of sorting
them out. What do you say, sir?".
“Go ahead. We don't seem to be much forrader yet.”
“Oh, I don't know, sir. The slow dawn breaks, I think.
Shall I begin?"
"Yes. Don't be too frivolous; I'm not in the mood for it.”
a figurebea mmo's hand
are respected of


198
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"It shall be as you say, sir. We'll cut out all that old
discussion about the ozone and take it as agreed. I think
it's proved now as much as it can be."
“We'll take it as a basis.”
“Right. When we talked the case over at the beginning,
there were two suspects, one obvious, one a possible
Chandler and Nimmo. In the meantime, we've seen that
Chandler's motive, at any rate so far as money is con-
cerned, had evaporated. But Brimsgrove has come into the
picture. He wanted the money and would get it if Wise-
man died. He had a pretty big reason for wishing Wiseman
dead. He was tied up closely with Chandler, and there's
a case for his being concerned with Chandler in the murder.
That's hypothetical, I know. But there doesn't seem any
reason to suppose that he could have done it on his own.
We know now, after Williams's demonstration, that the
whole thing was a very technical crime. That narrows the
field, but it still leaves us with all our original suspects. Do
you agree, sir?"
Cross grunted non-committally.
"You prefer me to make a fool of myself on my own,
sir?” Johnny smiled happily. “The other possible was
Nimmo. We've found out he loathed Wiseman, but loath-
ing by itself is not a good motive for murder. Yet it might
be in his case. Those quiet little chaps will nurse a griev-
ance till it gets too strong for 'em, and then they'll do
something in cold blood. Apart from that, there are some
odd things about Nimmo I'd like to find out.”
"How do you mean?"
"Nimmo was the only one who didn't hear the work-
man in the corridor on Tuesday afternoon. We don't know
he was in his fat except that he says so. He'd have to admit
he was in the building, because the liftman would have


MR. BRIMSGROVE CALLS AT SCOTLAND YARD 199
seen him. He's short-sighted even with his glasses-notice
how he peered at you this morning before he recognized
you?—and Richards said the workman peered at him
though he was not wearing glasses. He also described the
man, in his vague way, as shortish, so it might have been
Nimmo."
“More guessing, Lamb."
"No, sir; merely putting up a hypothesis to demolish if
we can. It's scientific that way."
"Comes to the same thing. Go on, though.”
"He was out when there was that smoke business on
Sunday—or seems to have been. In fact, on two important
occasions, he was either out of the way or blissfully igno-
rant of what everyone else knew. It wants accounting for.”
“Only two occasions, Lamb. If there were twenty, it
might be suspicious, but two's hardly enough.”
"No; except to show that suspecting Nimmo is not
wholly fantastic. Remember that so far as opportunity
and knowledge of Wiseman's habits were concerned, he
had the best chance of any."
"Surely the relief valet, Richards, would have recognized
him?"
"He might. But he wasn't expecting to see anyone in
particular; dirt and overalls make a good disguise; and
the man was obviously unobservant. I shouldn't like to
take his evidence to clear Nimmo.”
“There's something in that. What about the card?”
"I don't know, sir. That seems to fit in more with
Chandler. The workman might have been him. He and
Nimmo are much of a size. Chandler wears glasses and is
short-sighted; you can tell that from those concave lenses he
wears. The card was of a type that was in use when Chan-
dler was with the ventilating people. Then there's the fact


200
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
that Chandler was an expert in ozone; he read a paper
that got him a job with Williams's crowd. That's the whole
problem as I see it: The method shrieks Chandler, but the
other facts don't fit in. I can't imagine that nervous wreck
carrying off the interview with the valet so well. There's
another little detail, sir; I noted it first of all and Williams
commented on it afterwards. The nuts on the unions of the
steel bottle were all badly burred; the angles of the hexa-
gons had been rounded off.”
“Well?”
“Williams rather surprised me over that, sir. He sug-
gested that old stuff has been used. But the whole assem-
bly was brand new. I tried the nuts on the threads and
they were fairly stiff-practically no spin at all, as there
would be if they were old.”
"How does that help to clear Chandler?”
“This way, sir, though it's only a suggestion. The
stripping of the nut flats was done while they were being
screwed up in the inspection chamber. Someone had used
gas-pliers on the nuts, because the floor of the chamber
was littered with new brass dust—I've got it here.” He pro-
duced the folded packet he had made at Sion House and
exhibited its contents, which consisted of brass particles
mixed with fluff and dust.
"I still don't see it, Lamb."
“Remember how insistent Chandler was that he wasn't
a plain chemist, but a chemical engineer? Remember, too,
how Williams said he was a competent mechanic and
made up experimental stuff in the workshops? Now, using
gas-pliers on a nut is sheer barbarism to anyone with an
engineer's training. If Chandler had done it, he'd have
brought the right tools-adjustable wrenches—and used
them without thinking. It would have been as unnatural


202
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“What about the bottle thing? You say it was brand
new. Where would he get a thing like that?”
"It'd have to be made, I should think. That line won't
lead us far, sir; I've thought of that. Chandler was always
in the market for chemical plant presumably, in connection
with his invention; he'd spent thousands that way in the
past few years. Nimmo could get it easily enough from his
own firm or some trade friend. If Brimsgrove was in with
Chandler, he could get it from that company he forced
Chandler to buy the plant from. Any one of 'em could get
it in their normal lines of business without trouble.”
"I see.” Cross suddenly stood up and clenched his fists.
“Snags, snags, snags! In the end I shouldn't be surprised if
we got back where we started and found it was natural
death."
"No, sir, not that. After all our work and all our brilliant
deduction? Shame on you, sir! We must get someone
hanged for it if only to pay ourselves back for our trouble.”
"You callous rat!” Cross grinned. “But I don't see what
the next move is. I believe Chandler did it, probably with
Brimsgrove to help. I don't fancy the Nimmo theory at all.
I'll have his movements on Tuesday and Sunday checked
up just to make sure. Incidentally, there were no prints
on the bottle. It was too much to expect any."
“Any on the fire escape?"
“One or two smudged ones, but they might be any-
one's. Prints aren't much good except when you're dealing
with known criminals.”
"No, sir. What's the next move? Ought we to see
Brimsgrove again?”
"Might be better than doing nothing. Yes?" Cross looked
up as a messenger came in. His information was a com-
mentary on Cross's decision.


MR. BRIMSGROVE CALLS AT SCOTLAND YARD 203
“Mr. Brimsgrove to see you, sir. Says it's urgent."
“Brimsgrove? I wonder what he wants. All right, Ben-
son. Show him into the superintendent's office; it's empty
now."
“Very good, sir.”
They hurried down the passage to the superintendent's
office that Cross had permission to use for private inter-
views when its rightful occupant was out. A few minutes
later, Brimsgrove was shown in. He blinked at them
through his horn-rimmed spectacles.
"Good afternoon, Inspector," he said. “I expect you are
surprised to see me. I must apologize if I was not too cor-
dial last Saturday, but I am a busy man, and Saturday
afternoons and Sundays give me my only opportunity to
work without interruption from callers. Your visit upset
me. Forgive me.”
“Quite all right, sir." Cross was eyeing him keenly, won-
dering why he had come.
"I am afraid I have a rather unpleasant duty, Inspector.
I have called to give you further information about Hugh
Chandler.”
“Very well, sir. You do so voluntarily, of course."
“Of course, Inspector. You did not ask me to call.”
There was a touch of asperity in the heavy voice. Cross
merely nodded.
"On Sunday I had a call from Chandler, Inspector,"
Brimsgrove continued slowly, as though reluctant to speak.
“He told me you had been to see him and asked him a lot
of questions that led him to believe you suspected him of
murdering Mr. Wiseman. There was quite a scene-he
accused me of having put you on his trail, as he termed it,
and said I'd been making statements about him that were
untrue. That, as you know, Inspector, was not right. I


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
merely gave you his address and answered your questions."
Cross nodded again.
“There were high words between us, and I told him
never to come near me again. I told him that the business
arrangement between us would be terminated in due form
as soon as possible, and that I could not work with people
who hadn't implicit trust in me.” The man's air was one of
outraged righteousness. “It would be quite inconceivable.”
He paused, looking round him.
“That was on Sunday evening. I turned the matter over
in my mind then and this morning. As a result, I have
come here to make a statement. It seems to me there are
some things you should know about Chandler."
The inspector drew a pad of paper towards him.
"If you're going to make a statement, sir, I shall write it
down and ask you to sign it. You agree to that?”
"If it is the practice; I am not accustomed to these things.”
“It saves trouble for all of us.”
“Very well, then. I'm afraid I was not altogether frank
with you on Saturday, Inspector. I withheld information I
should have given, as I see now. My relations with Chan-
dler were rather more intimate than I suggested. True, I
met him in a business way–I come across all sorts of in-
ventors who seek backing—but the relationship hardly
stopped at a mere business arrangement. He came quite
frequently to my house, and once or twice I visited his
lodgings, though I did not relish doing so. He lived like a
pig, as perhaps you noticed when you called on him."
“As a matter of fact, sir, we were coming to ask you
about your relations with Chandler,” Cross remarked
grimly. “Information received rather suggested they were
closer than you had said. You should have been more open
with us."


MR. BRIMSGROVE CALLS AT SCOTLAND YARD 205
“I see that now very clearly. I might have known you
would find out. But my first desire was to get rid of you,
and, as I thought, do nothing to implicate a rather un-
stable, unreliable young man. ...
“However, to get on,” he resumed, as Cross nodded ac-
knowledgment of these sentiments. “Chandler frequently
discussed Mr. Wiseman with me. You know about the
will, I take it?” Cross indicated that he did. “Well, he
frequently used to describe it in strong terms and indicate
that Wiseman ought to be out of the way. I took no notice
at the time. I put it down to strong resentment. But he had
unusual views on life. He held that the use of money was
to further research and activities of that kind, and that
people who stood in the way were enemies of society and
should be removed—a view not altogether uncommon
among the scientists, whose outlook is rather prejudiced at
times. He told me on several occasions that it was in the
general interest that Wiseman should be eliminated was
his own term."
Brimsgrove was speaking more freely now, apparently
having overcome his initial qualms. He went on after a
short pause.
“He went so far once, only a little while ago, as to tell me
he had worked out what he called the perfect murder plan.
I refused to listen, but he insisted. It was a dreadful experi-
ence to hear a man-a young and brilliant man at that-
talking of murder as something to be praised almost, or at
any rate justified.”
He shifted uneasily in his chair, as though overcome by
the memory.
“His plan was probably absurd and unworkable, though
it did not seem so to me; but I am not a scientist, and I
cannot judge. I will give it to you merely as a matter of


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
interest. He proposed to introduce ozone into a bedroom
in a quantity sufficient to cause death. He said that it
would leave no traces, but would merely lead to violent
coughing and irritation that would cause death. Up till
then, I had always supposed ozone to be healthful, but he
insisted that it was otherwise. He even sketched out the
apparatus he should use. I have the drawing here."
He extracted a folded sheet from his pocket-book and
laid it on the table. Cross and Lamb glanced at it with
interest; it was a freehand sketch exactly reproducing what
they had found in the inspection-cavity. Johnny controlled
his desire to whoop by a superhuman effort.
“How do you come by this very-er-very doubtful
document, sir? I shall have to impound it, of course."
"I was afraid you might, Inspector.” Brimsgrove shook
his head sadly. “As a matter of fact, it was preserved in a
very curious way. Chandler had brought some chemical
book with him and he used it to support the paper on his
knee while he drew. Afterwards, he must have slipped the
paper in the book, for I only glanced at it and would not
take it. He left the book behind. You may remember,
Sergeant”-he turned to Johnny—“that you slipped and
knocked a book from my library table. That was the book.
The paper must have fallen out of it; I found it on the
floor in a corner, where I suppose it had fluttered, next
morning. I picked it up and put it on the table without
noticing 'what it was until this morning, when I had al-
ready made up my mind to see you. Then, of course, I
decided not to throw it away."
"A fortunate chain of events, sir."
"It was indeed, Inspector. I might have thought nothing
of that talk, but for the fact that I was going through the
order-books of a company I am interested in the Spear


MR. BRIMSGROVE CALLS AT SCOTLAND YARD 207
Engineering Company-from which Chandler was in the
habit of buying supplies for his research work. There I was
surprised, to put it mildly, to find that Chandler had
ordered a flask similar in every way to what he had
sketched on that paper. In view of what had happened-
your visit to me and your questions to Chandler, as reported
by him-I could come to no other conclusion but that he
had carried out his plan. Immediately, I returned home to
collect that paper, and I came straight on here."
He fell back in his chair as if exhausted, mopping his
forehead with a silk handkerchief. For several minutes no
one spoke. At last Cross stood up.
“These are very serious allegations you are making, sir,"
he said quietly. “I can only say that they bear out certain
ideas we had in mind. You realize that you are making a
definite charge of murder against Hugh Chandler?”
“Yes.” Brimsgrove's voice sounded low and tired. “What
other course have I? It would be a crime on society to
let such a man go unchallenged."
"It would, sir, if all you say is borne out. We shall have
to check up on your statement, of course.”
“Yes, yes, of course, Inspector. You shall have every
facility."
“The question is how far you are prepared to go." Cross
shot the man a penetrating glance. "Are you prepared to
swear an information charging Hugh Chandler with
murder."
Brimsgrove jerked to his feet. He looked from Cross to
Lamb and back again in silence, his face working.
"Yes, I suppose it must come to that." His voice, though
almost inaudible, was steady. "Yes, I will do that.”
“Then perhaps you will come with me, sir."
He led the way from the room and conducted Brims-


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
grove to Cannon Row, where the information was duly
sworn. He parted from the two officers with scarcely a
word; they watched him as he clambered into a taxi rather
helplessly.
"So that's that,” Johnny remarked soberly. "Now I sup-
pose we arrest Chandler?”
“We do. And we put a man on Brimsgrove's tail. We
can't have our chief witness disappearing."
He hurried back to the Inspectors' Room, from which he
gave the necessary instructions concerning both Chandler
and Brimsgrove.


CHAPTER XX
SERGEANT LAMB IS DISSATISFIED
In less than a couple of hours it was reported that Chandler
was in a cell at Cannon Row. Cross glanced at Johnny
inquiringly. Since Brimsgrove's departure, the sergeant had
sunk into unusual taciturnity. He had shown no desire
either to comment or to theorize on Brimsgrove's remark-
able statement, but had remained in a brown study. All
Cross's efforts to draw him out met with failure. As for the
inspector, he felt a vague disappointment that the case had
collapsed, and that his difficulties had been swept away
almost at a stroke. There was, of course, still much to be
done. Brimsgrove's evidence alone would not make a case
that could be presented in court; added to what they knew,
however, it gave them something more than a scaffold to
build round; it could only be a matter of time before
everything was assembled together in a form that would
satisfy the Director of Public Prosecutions.
There had been no trouble in arresting Chandler. He
had been found quietly reading in his room, and when the
charge had been read to him he had come meekly. No
statement had been made; Chandler seemed too stunned to
realize the full implications of what was happening.
Johnny paid no attention to Cross's glance. He was still
absorbed in his own thoughts, and, in fact, had not even
noticed that the inspector was looking at him.
209


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"Come on, Lamb,” Cross urged. “I think we'd better see
Chandler right away before he's had time to invent a
story for us. I'm going to ask him to make a statement, and
you must come too.”
“Right, sir."
Chandler looked up as they entered. He gave them a nod
of dull recognition, but spoke no word.
“Well, Chandler, we've come to see if you care to make
a statement. You needn't, of course. It's entirely up to you.
It may help you, though.” Cross spoke not unkindly; he
added the prescribed warning.
There was no reply for an interval that seemed inter-
minable to Johnny. He was not feeling happy. Like Cross,
he was disappointed at the tame end to the case; unlike
Cross, he was not so sure it was the end. He had a restless
desire to do something to prove the charge independently
of Brimsgrove's evidence and made up his mind to have a
talk with the inspector at the first opportunity.
“There's nothing I can say, Inspector,” Chandler said
at last. His voice was dead. “I told you all I know the
other day. I can't add more. I didn't kill Uncle Samuel,
and that's all.”
"Come, come, Chandler. That line won't help you. You
didn't tell us everything the other day, did you? You
didn't explain your connection with Mr. Brimsgrove very
well, for example."
“No. It annoyed me, my being under an obligation to a
man like that. Why should I parade it before everyone?
I loathed it. It had nothing to do with Uncle's death so far
as I could see. You know now, so why worry me?”
The same stubborn air they had seen on Saturday re-
turned to him. Cross rubbed his chin thoughtfully. To his
surprise, Johnny suddenly took part in the conversation.


SERGEANT LAMB IS DISSATISFIED
211
"I wonder if you'd tell me something else,” he asked.
"About your process, I mean. It was coal liquefaction,
wasn't it?"
“Yes," Chandler returned, with some signs of reviving
animation.
"Hydrogenation?"
“No. That was the whole point. Hydrogenation works,
but it's expensive. Ordinary low-temperature carbonization
is cheaper, but gives nothing like the same yield of oil.
My aim was to combine the cheapness of one with the
efficiency of the other. And I'd succeeded. It can be done
but not now, I suppose,” he added gloomily.
“Can you tell me something about it?” As Johnny spoke,
Cross noted with pleasure the growing interest in Chan-
dler's whole bearing; he was coming alive again in talking
of what mattered most to him.
“Well, you see It's difficult to explain non-techni-
cally.”
"Don't worry. I can follow, I expect.”
"Stop me, then, if I'm not clear.” He had forgotten the
cell, the charge, the fate that hung over his head; he was
an enthusiast again talking to a receptive listener. Cross
wondered whether Johnny had some purpose in view, or
whether he was merely trying to re-establish the man's con-
fidence so that he would talk more rationally later on.
"It's a colloidal process,” Chandler continued. “The heat
is transmitted to the coal through a fuid medium so that
every molecule becomes properly carbonized at exactly the
right temperature. Do you follow?"
Johnny nodded.
“But the idea's not new, is it? I seem to remember hear-
ing of it before.”
"No, the idea's not brand new. But my method of work-


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THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
ing is. Other workers have used the ordinary retort. I've
designed a new carbonizer...."
He rushed off on a string of technicalities quite beyond
Cross, though Johnny nodded from time to time, putting a
question now and again to keep Chandler talking. At
length he stopped. Johnny pulled out his note-book.
"Would you mind sketching that last bit for me? I mean
the lay-out of the regenerator."
He handed a sheet of paper and a pencil to Chandler,
who drew rapidly and easily, explaining as he went. Johnny
took the paper and slipped it unobtrusively in his pocket.
“How long have you been at work on it?"
“Ever since I was at South Ken. First in my spare
time, then later I took it on full-time, taking a chance on
making a living. That was after Uncle Joshua died.”
“I see. Three years ago, wasn't it, when Brimsgrove took
it up?"
“Yes. I came across him when I was looking for some
plant. One of his companies made something like what I
wanted, and I asked them for an estimate. Then they
wrote to me and made an appointment to discuss it.
Brimsgrove was there when I talked it over with their
general manager, and he got interested. He asked me to call
on him at his private house. Somehow or other, he became
my backer.” A shade fell over his face at the mention of
Brimsgrove.
"I suppose he took technical advice before backing it?"
"No, I don't think so. Not till he formed the second
company, when I had done further development work. I
went over to Sydenham Hill every night for a week, thrash-
ing out details with him; he showed a remarkable grasp
of the subject, but that wasn't surprising, because it turned


SERGEANT LAMB IS DISSATISFIED
213
He had takent be disturbed thusly, Shall we go
out he'd backed another system just after the war, and it
had turned out a dud.”
“I expect there have been plenty of those. It's been very
interesting, Chandler. I'll come and have another talk with
you some day and go into it more fully, but I think I'm
about gorged at the moment, and I want to digest what
I've got. Shall we go, sir?"
. Rather surprised at this direct hint, but grasping that
Johnny had some plan in mind, Cross assented. When they
were clear of possible eavesdroppers, Johnny turned to his
chief.
"I want to talk, sir-very seriously. Shall we go to Sion
House? We can't be disturbed there."
He had taken charge of the proceedings. Though he
remained properly respectful to Cross, there was something
in his attitude that suggested the leader; his polite ques-
tions were more like commands. Not at all offended, as a
lesser man might have been, the inspector fell in with the
suggestion. They made their way to Kensington Gore.
The flat was just as they had left it. Cross dropped into
the arm-chair, while Johnny remained standing, leaning
against the radiator shelf.
"Listen, sir," he began, in a voice of quiet determination.
“There's something wrong about this case. We've jugged
Chandler on Brimsgrove's information, and I don't like it.
There are only two possibilities, and Chandler's arrest like
this doesn't fit in at all.”
“What are they?"
"If we put Nimmo aside for the moment—and we must,
though I don't clear him yet—there are only two alterna-
tives: either Chandler and Brimsgrove were in it together,
or Brimsgrove did it alone. In one event, you ought to


214
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
have Brimsgrove locked up as well as Chandler, in the
other, Chandler shouldn't be there at all.”
"Well, I don't trust Brimsgrove, and I've got him under
observation, But how do you make out he might have
done it alone?”
"I've been playing with the idea for quite a time. He
had the reason. We've seen him, and we can give him credit
for having the nerve, the resource, and the courage. The
one thing missing was the knowledge. We can give him
that too, now."
Cross sat bolt upright in his chair.
“How do you make that out?"
"Do you think I was talking to Chandler for fun just
now? I wanted him to tell me about his work in his own
words. He did, just as simply as he could. Once or twice I
pulled him up, but his simplifications were mildly technical
as well. He's so soaked in his subject he can't translate it
into ordinary language.”
“Well?”
"He discussed it in detail for a week with Brimsgrove
alone. You can bet that as he went into detail, he became
more and more technical. Yet at the end Brimsgrove ap-
parently agreed to back him without taking any expert
advice. Does a man like Brimsgrove, born and bred to make
money by any crooked means, turn over cash to an inventor
for something that may be sheer hocus-pocus? No, sir.
Especially when, as Chandler told us, he'd already backed
one dud in the very same line. If he hadn't grasped all
Chandler's technicalities, he'd have called in an expert.
But he didn't. The only conclusion is that he'd no need to
and that he had at least some technical knowledge himself.”
"That's a good point and sound reasoning, Lamb. I'm
glad you made it; but it doesn't clear Chandler.”


SERGEANT LAMB IS DISSATISFIED
215
“No, it doesn't. It brings Brimsgrove a little nearer the
centre of the stage, though. Then there's this: If Brims-
grove found that drawing only yesterday and then only
glanced at it, without realizing what it was, how did he
recognize the order Chandler was supposed to have given
to the Spear Engineering people?”.
"That's something else.”
"And if he wasn't interested, why did he not only listen
to Chandler's alleged murder talk, but absorb it sufficiently
to repeat details after all this time?"
Cross shrugged his shoulders.
“Have you got that paper, sir—the drawing Brimsgrove
brought?”
"Yes. I slipped it into my pocket when I took him out to
the station. But why- ?".
"Please, sir,” Johnny pleaded. Cross produced the paper,
and Johnny, bringing out the sketch Chandler had made in
the cell, compared the two closely. He looked up sharply.
"No, sir, Chandler's either innocent, or he's being left to
hold the baby."
He went over to the arm-chair and held the two papers
out to Cross.
“Both those were made under very similar conditions
as rough sketches to illustrate a friendly chat. At least we
know one was, and we're told the other was, too. There
was no thought of disguise present in Chandler's mind
when he made mine. But one's a draughtsman's sketch-
purely diagrammatic, without any perspective and with the
various conventional details draughtsmen use, such as that
cross to mark a screw-thread; the other is a crude attempt
at perspective. No technical man would try to make a
perspective sketch of a thing like that; a diagram would be


216
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
second nature to him and show the idea more clearly. Both
drawings show roughly similar things-one a carbonizing
system including a retort that is little more than an iron
cylinder, the other a gas-flask, which is practically the same
thing only smaller. Now do you see my point, sir?”.
Johnny had lost all his banter. He was emphatic and
urgent. Cross liked him the better for this show of strong
purpose.
“Yes, I grasp it. You're suggesting this drawing is a
plant?”
"Possibly; or Chandler is a damned sight cleverer than I
think he is--as a criminal, that is.”
Cross rose slowly to his feet. He was not averse to having
Brimsgrove brought into the case again as a suspect, in-
stead of as a witness for the prosecution. His instinct had
told him all along that Brimsgrove was a crook on whom
he was itching to lay his hands.
“What action do you suggest, Lamb? It's your case now,
and you must take the initiative.”
“I want to see Chandler's room, and I want to search
Brimsgrove's house."
"The first is easy. I don't see how we could get a search
warrant for the other.”
“Listen, sir. We know enough about Brimsgrove now to
be sure he's in a bad way. He's been rigging mild swindles
for years, and they've been growing. Couldn't he be
checked up again from that angle to see if there's enough
to make a charge of fraud so that we can get him out of the
way?”
“That's an idea. I'll get back to the office and fix things
up. But we shall probably have to find some other way.”
Back at Scotland Yard, the inspector asked if Heppel-


SERGEANT LAMB IS DISSATISFIED
217
white was on duty. He was; he had finished his inquiries
about Nimmo, a report about whom was waiting on
Cross's desk. The inspector gave his instructions, urging
on the man the need not only for as much detail as possible,
but for the utmost speed.
"Take Perry and—let me see-yes, Young, with you to
help. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Heppelwhite replied, looking pleased at hav-
ing some more inquiries to make. “We'll get to work at
once."
“May as well look at this first," Cross commented, pick-
ing up the report. He scanned the pages.
“On Tuesday, Nimmo was in his fat all right most of
the afternoon. Albert took him up at his usual time, soon
after three, and saw him again when he came up to the
floor again with Richards and the teas about 4.30. He came
out to ask Albert to have an evening paper sent up to him
as soon as possible.”
“Funny thing to do when he'd a telephone at his elbow."
Cross shot Lamb a quick glance.
“On Sunday, Albert picked up Nimmo on the third
floor soon after the smoke episode."
"Why the third?"
"Albert says Nimmo sometimes went there to play chess
with a Mr. Watling."
“H'm. On both occasions, then, he was seen immediately
after the time we want to check. We'll have to inquire more
closely into Nimmo's affairs. Perhaps, after all, both Chan-
dler and Brimsgrove are innocent—but I don't think so."
"No. This Nimmo business is certainly odd-dashed odd.
Do you want to go on to Chandler's digs now?"
“Yes, sir.”


218
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“We'll have a car.”
"Good. I'll tell the driver to stop at an electrician's on
the way.”
“Why?"
“I want to buy a new lamp so that I can see.”


CHAPTER XXI
MR. HERRIES BRINGS A LETTER
WHEN Johnny had put the new lamp-a one-hundred watt
gas-filled pearl-into the fitting in Chandler's room, the
squalor was thrown into strong relief. The bright light
showed up the shabbiness of the furniture and the floor
covering, revealing little accumulations of Auff and dust in
the corners. He shuddered a little, wondering how a man
like Chandler, used to comfortable and clean surroundings,
could tolerate such a room, but he concluded that necessity
could make a virtue of anything.
Cross looked round with obvious distaste. The room
compared most unfavourably with the swept and gar-
nished air Mrs. Cross maintained in his own home. He felt
the bed delicately.
"Shouldn't like to lie on that,” he remarked.
"No," Johnny replied. “I shouldn't be surprised if Chan-
dler finds his cell bed a bit more comfortable.”
He was not interested in the appointments of the room,
however. He looked round him keenly. He smiled at the
little gas cooking-stove-a grill and boiling-plate combined
-which had been disconnected from its tube and replaced
by à Bunsen burner. On the mantelpiece, which had a
faded, dusty, velvet-covered mantelboard, there were bottles
of chemical reagents. A cupboard in the corner by the bed
was filled with books, stacked, not higgledy-piggledy, but
LIC D
219


220
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
in ordered system. Al were chemical or allied volumes,
arranged in subjects.
Quickly he scrutinized the titles, as though looking for
something definite. He could not read those on the topmost
shelf, so he climbed on the bed, which creaked uneasily.
Suddenly he gave a chirrup of pleasure and clambered
down.
“Discovery number one,” he said, with a return to his
normal cheerfulness. “A complete set of Mellor's Compre-
hensive Treatise, including Volume I, sir. I don't think it
likely that Chandler would have two, so Brimsgrove's copy
could hardly be Chandler's. How's that?"
"Fishy.”
Between them they turned their attention to the rest of
the room, but they found nothing of interest. The contents
spoke of a man with one absorbing passion. Chemical
books, chemical journals, pieces of chemical apparatus,
bottles of standard substances—these and their kind occu- .
pied every nook and cranny. The rickety wardrobe con-
tained few clothes; its shelves and drawers were filled with
copies of technical papers, not only English and American,
but German. In one of the latter, Johnny found a sheet of
paper on which Chandler had started to make a translation
of an article. It was a sidelight on the man's thoroughness
that, in spite of his preoccupation with chemistry, he had
found time enough to master German as a means to his
main end.
At the bottom of the wardrobe cupboard they found a
large black-japánned dispatch box. Cross eyed it doubtfully.
"I'd been hoping for something like that. His papers
might tell us something. Shall we have to force it open?”
"I don't think so, sir," Johnny answered, with a grin.


MR. HERRIES BRINGS A LETTER
221
“That's just an ordinary dispatch box you can buy at any
stationer's. I've got one like it. I expect my key will fit.”
He took a small leather key-case from his pocket, and
stooped down to the box. The key slid in; he opened the
box without difficulty.
“See, sir. The deed is done."
“And not quite in the regular manner, Lamb, but it
doesn't matter. Let's get it up on the bed.”
They hoisted it up and Johnny proceeded to go through
the papers.
They were mostly letters, mainly from various chemical
companies or technical societies, with which Chandler ap-
parently kept up a vigorous correspondence. Deeper down,
however, they found a roll tied with pink tape, which
proved to contain certificates. Johnny noted with admira-
tion that Chandler had taken his science degree in both
chemistry and engineering. A long envelope contained a
copy of Joshua Wright's will, certified at Somerset House.
Next came another envelope, carefully sealed.
“Do we open it, sir?"
“I suppose so," Cross grunted dubiously.
Johnny slit the flap and pulled out a sheaf of typewritten
papers clipped together; the topmost sheet bore an em-
bossed duty stamp.
“H’m,” he ejaculated. “This is valuable-Chandler's
counterpart of the agreements with Brimsgrove. Here's the
contract with him about the coal process. And here”-he
whistled—“here's the agreement about the money. I think
we take all these for examination at our leisure. What do
you say, sir?"
“Give them to me to take care of.”
"Here you are, sir. I hope you will take warning from


222
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
their awful example. What have we got here?" He fished
in the box and brought out a square envelope held together
by a rubber band. "Phew!"
Cross looked up from the papers, which he had started
to read, at this exclamation of surprise.
“Cards, sir, like the one in Richards's pocket. That's a
facer, isn't it?"
"Sure they're the same?”
“No doubt about it, sir. That tasteful ornamental style
couldn't be duplicated nor forgotten-Exhibit Number One
in the typographical chamber of horrors.”
He handed them over to the inspector before returning
to his investigations.
"In the same envelope is a testimonial from the com-
pany praising his services.”
After some more rummaging, he stood up and flexed his
back. It had become stiff through bending over the bed.
"That's the lot-not much, sir, but enough to keep us
busy. The agreements should be worth their weight in
gold, and the other two discoveries almost cancel out."
"Meaning?”.
"The complete Mellor, which suggests Brimsgrove's story
about finding the sketch was shall we say out of focus,
sir? And the cards, which make things look nasty for
Chandler. Neither is conclusive either way."
“We'll take the cards. If you've finished, we'll tidy up
and go. Anything else?".
“Just a moment, sir.” He examined a glass ash-tray that
stood on the bamboo table. “I believe I see finger-prints, sir,
which are probably Chandler's. Shall we take this along as
a check-they might avoid trouble.”
"I don't see what good it is, but it'll do no harm."
“Then we will."


224
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
member how he came along after a display of ignorance on
our first and only interview?"
"And then?”
“I shall look for more finger-prints in the inspection-
chamber. I feel there should be some there. A man posing
as a workman wouldn't wear gloves, sir, until he was on
the job. It wouldn't be right and might attract attention. I
don't think he could handle that delicate timing mechan-
ism in gloves. There ought to be some somewhere, and
there's no harm in looking."
“None at all. After that? I want to know the worst.”
"I don't know, sir. It must be as the fates decide. Any-
way, I think we've enough for a morning. Now, sir–bed.”
"I'm going as soon as I've got home and had a meal.
Good night, Lamb.”
"Good night, sir.”
He had just reached the courtyard when he caught sight
of an elderly figure looking about undecidedly. It seemed
familiar, and he approached. Then he noticed that it was
Herries, the solicitor.
"Good evening, Mr. Herries,” Johnny greeted cheerfully.
“Can I help you?"
"Ah-Sergeant Lamb. How are you—how are you? What
a formidable place this is! I had been trying to decide how
I could get hold of you or the inspector in connection with
Mr. Wiseman's death. It's late, I know, but I had an im-
portant letter by a late post-I was staying on at the office
and it seemed so remarkable to me that I thought I would
seek your advice at once."
“Quite right, sir. Come upstairs. Inspector Cross was
about to leave, but I think he's still here.” He turned aside
and asked the Back Hall duty man to stop Cross if he
went out.
asked them but I thiome upsta


MR. HERRIES BRINGS A LETTER
225
Herries looked about him with obvious interest.
"Why are all our public buildings such monuments of
bad planning, Sergeant?” he asked. “There's unlimited
money available when they're built, yet they're always im-
practical. Why is it?”
"Couldn't say, sir. I expect it's because no one knows
what's wanted, and those who have to occupy them have no
say in the design."
"Perhaps it is—perhaps it is.”
They met Cross in the vaulted corridor. He greeted
Herries with a look of surprise and led him into the super-
intendent's office.
"You're just in time, sir. Another five minutes and I
should have gone. As a matter of fact, I should be on my
way home now if I hadn't stopped to have a chat with
someone.”
“In any event, I owe you an apology for troubling you
so late. I think you will forgive me when I tell you the
details. I hope I am not keeping you?”
"We'll give any amount of time to an important case,
sir,” Cross replied, bidding a mental farewell to a heavy
meal and an early retirement to bed. “Individually, we
don't count. The machine must keep running."
“A worthy sentiment, I am sure. I must say that you and
our young friend here”—Johnny grimaced—"manage to
keep very cheerful on it. But I won't waste time in idle
talk. Tonight, Inspector, I happened to be staying late at
the office on some vital work. There is a post just after six,
I believe, which usually comes when the office is closed. I
was there when it arrived this evening, of course, and out of
curiosity—I can never resist letters, even at my age-I
opened it. Among others of no importance to you, there was
a letter from Mr. Brimsgrove."


MR. HERRIES BRINGS A LETTER
227
shrugged his shoulders with a curious hunching move-
ment. “Has he sought legal advice? He should have com-
municated with me at once. Can you arrange for me to see
him in the morning?"
Cross nodded. Herries had forgotten all about Brims-
grove's letter now.
“Then I shall come along. A most misguided boy, In-
spector-stubborn at times, as many people of weak char-
acters are. I must do all I can for him.”
He rose to go, then suddenly remembered the first object
of his call.
“May I have that letter, Inspector? I shall have a copy
made in the morning and send the original over to you
or bring it myself. I hope I have been of some help, though
not, I pray, to hang Hugh Chandler."
Johnny conducted him down to the entrance. He seemed
to have aged suddenly.
"Joshua Wright loved that boy, Sergeant,” he said, as
Johnny bade him farewell. “I hope I can save him."
For a moment Johnny hesitated. Then he leant forward
confidentially.
“This is entirely between you and me, sir. He was
arrested on information supplied and sworn by Brimsgrove.
My own belief is that he is innocent or at most an accessary.
He may be able to wriggle out.”
Herries grasped his hand warmly without speaking and
shuffled off down the steps.


MR. NIMMO CONFESSES
229
"It must be,” Cross said solicitously. These complications
had not occurred to him. “Now, Lamb, we don't want to
detain Mr. Nimmo. Will you ask your question?”
“Very well, sir.” Johnny turned to Nimmo. “We're still
worried about that workman who was reported to be here
on Tuesday afternoon. We want to check the time exactly.
You heard nothing, sir?”
"Nothing, Sergeant. Nothing."
“But I understand you came in or were along the passage
later, sir, after it was over. You saw no trace of him?"
“No. I neither saw nor heard the man."
"You see, it's most important. We believe Mr. Wiseman
was killed by some gas introduced through the air system,
and we have reason to suspect that workman. Do try to
help us if you can, sir."
His voice was soft and pleading. Nimmo seemed to hesi-
tate for the briefest moment before shaking his head
decisively.
“Then perhaps you can help us over Sunday's affair, sir
—that smoke outbreak, you remember. The liftman tells us
you came up in his lift just after that, and we thought you
might have caught sight of some stranger moving away."
Nimmo looked very hard at Johnny before transferring
his gaze with equal intentness to Cross. Then he waved his
hand with a curious, almost playful, gesture, and sat down
on the edge of his unmade bed.
"It's clear to me, gentlemen," he said, in his slow, soft
accents, “that you know more about this affair than you
care to admit. It's clear to me, too, that the eye of suspicion
has not altogether ignored me. Your questions hint as much,
Sergeant. So-” He jerked his hands upwards. "I will
make a confession. First of all I must know how much you
have discovered about my affairs and my relations with


230
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
Wiseman. Then I will give you some information that I
think will interest you.”
Cross hesitated for a moment; then, in short sentences, he
told Nimmo what they knew.
“There are no secrets to you when you decide to find
things out,” Nimmo remarked with an engaging smile.
"Most certainly I had better confess."
He paused and looked keenly at them.
“Gentlemen, do not expect anything sensational. I can
assure you that I did not murder Wiseman. If I had
wanted to—wanted to in the sense of actually planning to
do so—I do not think I should have had either the courage
or the knowledge to carry it through. But if, as I did, I
observed someone else preparing to eliminate the man I
hated most, it was not my business to stand in his way.”
Cross gazed at him in astonishment. Nimmo's voice
never changed an iota from the even softness of his natural
intonation.
"On Tuesday afternoon I decided I would take a walk
in the Park and treat myself to tea in a little Belgian shop
in Church Street where they sell a cream cake to which I
am very partial. On setting out I found a man in the corri-
dor at work on one of the inspection-chambers. Being a
technical man, I stopped to watch him; he took no notice,
except that he seemed to keep himself between me and his
work as much as possible. So I looked more closely. I saw
a very singular thing. The man was inserting a steel cylin-
der, which I recognized as a gas-flask, into pipes that I
knew were the air pipes.”
He paused and glanced at Cross.
"We found that bottle, sir," the inspector said grimly.
"No doubt, Inspector; I suspected that was what you were
looking for yesterday. However, one other thing that struck


MR. NIMMO CONFESSES
231
me was the smell of ozone, which is quite unmistakable to
anyone who has worked in a laboratory. I wondered why
anyone should want to put a flask of ozone in the air
system. With that, I went downstairs, walking down in-
stead of taking the lift, partly because the lift wasn't there,
and partly because I was so deep in thought that I didn't
notice I was using the staircase until I was three floors
down.
"By the time I'd reached the ground floor, I was so in-
terested that I decided to return, so I got straight into the
lift and came up again. The man had gone."
He paused again and smiled at the detectives in turn.
"I glanced at the door of the chamber and noticed it
bore the number of Wiseman's flat. I was still puzzled,
so I got out the classic French book on ozone, which you
see there on the table.”
"I've seen it, sir; it was here when we called before,”
Lamb commented.
"Most observant of you. I know now why I was under
suspicion.” He chuckled as though it was a great joke.
"The only object I could see in ozonizing the air was to
kill someone,” he continued, after taking a gold-tipped
cigarette from his case and lighting it. “Of course, I wasn't
sure, and anyway it seemed no particular business of mine.
Then came Wiseman's death on Thursday, and I smelt a
rat-or rather, shall I say, I smelt ozone.” He chuckled
again.
"I had to make up my mind whether to tell the police
what I had seen or keep it to myself. I decided on the latter
course. It seemed to me that whoever had killed Wiseman-
I was quite convinced it was murder-had done me a
service. I could resume unfettered control over my busi-
ness.”


MR. NIMMO CONFESSES
233
I deceu no breath.
rwards
cluded a smoke rocket-a childish device, but it appealed
to my sense of humour. I discharged it on Sunday, as you
know, and drove out the tenants and the constable on duty,
who was a most persistent officer; I thought he would out-
stay my smoke. Then, with a wet towel round my mouth,
I scarred the door with a cold chisel- "
“Damn!” Johnny exclaimed suddenly. “I thought it was
a screwdriver.”
“Ah, Sergeant,” Nimmo breathed with an air of happy
triumph, "then I deceived you in one thing at least. Good!
Afterwards, I made my escape down the iron staircase to
the third floor, where I sometimes play chess, and returned
by the lift to find the fire brigade in attendance, chemical
extinguishers in action, and, best of all, you gentlemen
arriving post-haste. I hardly expected to create such a sen-
sation. It was intensely gratifying."
He beamed on them.
“This is all very well, but it was most irregular.” Cross
hardly knew how to act. “You were conniving at mur-
der "
“Dear me, no, Inspector!" Nimmo was shocked. “I had
no proof it was murder. If everyone was like my esteemed
neighbour and voiced every suspicion, the world would be
a very sorry place. On the contrary, I tried to do my duty
by leading you to the centre of interest, though you, it
seems, had already forestalled me. It was a pity that I
scarred the wrong door in my haste. But my intentions were
good.”
"I don't know I can agree with that, sir." Cross was still
worried. “I shall have to consider if any action should be
taken. As you've told us so much, perhaps you can help us
in another way."


234
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"If I can, Inspector.”
"Can you describe the man who was in the corridor on
Tuesday?"
“No, Inspector. I only saw his back, and I was more
interested in what he was doing. I should say he was not
much taller than I, though somewhat more-shall I say
adipose? His hands were either covered in thick grease or
he was wearing rubber gloves. He had on brown overalls,
and had a very large bag with him—that is all I can re-
member. I was far too absorbed in his operations.”
"Tell me, sir, did he seem at home in using the tools?”
Johnny asked.
"I barely noticed. Perhaps he may have seemed fumbling,
but it was difficult working there in that light. Now, gen-
tlemen, you know everything." He consulted his watch, an
old-fashioned gold half-hunter. “If you will excuse me, I
must go. I am already overdue for my appointment. I am
seeing my solicitors about this Wiseman business. Dear me,
what a nuisance the man always is, alive or dead!”'
He shook hands with them gravely and prepared to go.
Suddenly he paused.
"You may look round the flat, gentlemen,” he said,
chuckling. "You won't find anything incriminating.”
He went out. Cross looked at Johnny, and Johnny looked
at Cross.
“Well,” the inspector said, “that's the rummiest thing
I've ever heard! Is the man loopy or just eccentric?"
Johnny chuckled.
“Neither, sir. It's what Brimsgrove said yesterday. The
scientific mind has unusual views on life, sir, that's all. It
can't see why, if we swat a fly that annoys us, we shouldn't
snuff out a human being. I sometimes feel like that myself,"
he added.


MR. NIMMO CONFESSES
235
“I suppose his yarn was true,” Cross ruminated. "Yes, I
think it was; he couldn't invent a thing like that and put it
over. So that disposes of the smoke scene--pretty business,
that. Has he helped us in any other way?”.
“A little, sir. I think his smoke is clearing away the fog.
We know now it wasn't Chandler who installed the bottle.”
"How?"
“Nimmo said the man was adipose—by which he meant
fat and unlovely. That fits Brimsgrove, but not Chandler.
And he thought the man was fumbling with the tools. No
good putting that down to bad light. A competent me-
chanic, as Chandler seems to be, could do a job like that in
the dark. Remember how Williams did it. You know, a
man used to handling tools works far more by feel than by
sight, sir. I knew a fitting foreman once who could detect
a difference of a thousandth of an inch by sheer touch on a
calliper."
“Really? Going to look for your finger-prints?”.
"No, sir. Rubber gloves are too much for me.” He sud-
denly burst out laughing.
“What on earth- ?"
"I should love to see old Nimmo chucking a smoke
rocket! Right under a constable's nose, too! He's a bad boy,
sir. Do you notice how elderly bachelors of scholarly habit
never quite grow up?".
"I'm not sure that what he's done isn't illegal,” Cross re-
turned with emphasis. “I don't suppose I'd better do any-
thing. It'd only complicate things and make us look fools
as well.”
"No, sir, leave him alone. You know, first I fell for the
Prillkins, and now I've fallen for Nimmo. I shall have to
get on visiting terms up here."
"You'll come back to the office, my lad. There's work to


236
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
do. We've got to concoct a plan to see inside Brimsgrove's
house, and we've got to talk to Chandler again. Which
shall we do first?”.
“Neither, sir. We'll break all rules and have a morning
coffee. I need it to restore my sanity after Nimmo's inter-
lude.”
He laughed again as they wended their way towards the
lift, in which Johnny completely startled Albert and scan-
dalized Cross by suddenly breaking into a large guffaw and
then presenting the liftman with a totally unexpected half-
crown.


238
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
that I might be a little less suggestive of an official call; I
could humour him, and he might be more amenable.”
“Not a bad idea. Try it and see. If you want any help,
scream,” he added with heavy humour.
Johnny went away on his self-appointed task. Cross had
given him permission and a chit to use a police car. His
journey to Brixton was an opportunity for some careful
thinking.
He was reluctant to badger Chandler. He was prepared
to believe that Chandler was an accessary to the murder,
and that he might even have suggested the idea, as Brims-
grove had said. But it was all wrong to imagine this weak-
willed creature, practically oblivious to all else but his
beloved chemistry, as purposeful enough to carry it out.
Johnny, with his scientific upbringing, could imagine
Chandler's considering the elimination of Samuel Wiseman
purely as a theoretical problem and devoting attention to
devising ways and means purely as an exercise in applied
chemistry; he could not imagine Chandler's developing
sufficient resolution to put it into effect. Obstinate he might
and could be at times, as they knew, but it was a purely
passive resistance; constructive force, except perhaps in his
own narrow sphere, was not in keeping with the man's
mentality.
When the formalities were completed in the Head
Warder's office, Johnny was admitted to the prisoner's
cell. The chemist looked up as he came in, giving a faint
smile of recognition. Johnny smiled back, congratulating
himself on having left Cross behind. Cross was so obviously
the policeman that the very sight of him might have
roused all Chandler's mulishness.
“Well, how are things?” he asked cheerfully, dropping
on the bed. "Feel all right?"


HEPPELWHITE SPRINGS A SURPRISE
239
“More or less." Chandler's voice was rather lifeless.
"Plenty to occupy my mind, you know."
“I expect you have. Look here, Chandler, I've come to
have a talk with you. Let's face up to things squarely.
You're in a hole, and you know it. We don't want to
make things more difficult for you than they need be, and,
to be frank, I personally don't think you're entirely respon-
sible. Can't you help us a little? It'll help you, too, you
know."
Chandler looked at him in silence. For a moment, he
assumed an obstinate expression; then he smiled helplessly.
“What is it you want to know?”.
“Just what your part was in the murder of Samuel
Wiseman."
“My part? I had no part.” The voice became sullen.
"Listen to me. My department would say it wasn't
regular, but I'm going to talk to you. I'm going to tell
you all I know, more or less, and then you'll see why you're
here, and why your silence is only going to make things
worse for you. If I do that, will you correct me afterwards
where I'm wrong? Is that a go?”
"All right. It'll have to be cleared up some time, I sup-
pose, and it may as well be now. Uncle Josh always used
to tell me I'd never do anything today or even tomorrow
if I could put it off till next week. Get on with it."
“Right-oh. But one thing—will you swear not to blow
on me to my superiors?”
Johnny realized that Cross would have apoplexy if he
knew how his sergeant was making a bargain with an
arrested man, but he thought the risk worth taking.
Chandler was an unusual subject and demanded unusual
methods.


240
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“Yes, you can rely on me. People can't make me talk
unless I want to.”
Lamb grinned to himself; he knew the truth of that
remark.
"Well, it's a deal, then."
· He outlined the case, stressing how everything pointed
to Chandler's implication and probable principal guilt,
and filling in the details of Brimsgrove's story. Of intent,
he overstressed certain features to impress Chandler with
how much they knew, partly to frighten him, and partly
to show him the black outlook.
Throughout the recital, Chandler listened without com-
ment, attentively yet nervously. His hands clasped and
unclasped; he kept pulling at his tie, thrusting his hands
in his pockets, or playing with his coat-buttons. Twice he
retied the bow on his right shoe. When Johnny reached
the end, Chandler remained silent.
"It's a good case. I congratulate you on your scientific
knowledge. I almost forgot you were talking about me
and treated it as a problem in analysis and synthesis. Now
you want my side, do you?"
"Please—that was the bargain.”
“Well, you're right and you're wrong. Brimsgrove is a
ruddy liar. I'll deal with his story first. It was he who was
always pressing me for information about Uncle Samuel;
I loathed Uncle and I never wanted to talk about him. I
don't parade my troubles. He wormed the whole story out
of me, as I see now, purely to find out how he could use
him to get some money. The time I went down to have
that last row—when was it? Only last Tuesday? Good
God!” He broke off, as though astounded. “I went there
on Brimsgrove's suggestion. He was always urging me to
go and see the old dog in the manger,' as he called Uncle.


242
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
he certainly knew a lot. I put it down to his association
with technical projects for so long. If you cut out the
purely financial syndicates, all his shows had something
to do with chemistry, engineering, and so on.”
“That's interesting. We shall have to look up his record.”
“If it's in order for you to do so, you might tell me."
Johnny nodded absently; his thoughts were elsewhere.
“Anything else?” he asked at last.
“No. I don't think so."
“Then if I were you, I should draft out a statement
putting the whole story from your point of view. I'll see
you have pen and paper. And thank you."
On his way upstairs, Lamb was more than ordinarily
thoughtful. There was nothing to support Chandler's story,
but it rang true; it contained no improbabilities, with the
one patent exception of Brimsgrove's technical knowledge.
Chandler might be just trying to get his own back on
Brimsgrove, as the man had tried to shift all the blame on
Chandler. Johnny could see no particular point in that.
One's word was as good as the other's; in fact, Brimsgrove's
was perhaps of slightly higher face value.
He found Cross in the superintendent's office, where he
almost lived now that its proper owner was on sick leave.
In the privacy of the apartment, he retailed Chandler's
statement. The inspector pursed his lips at the end.
"It's not unlikely. We shall have to do some checking-
it's not easy."
"Got anything on Brimsgrove yet, sir?"
“No word at all. Anyway, that line is rather a gamble.
If we had time, we might do it, but we must work quickly.
Chandler was remanded this morning, just evidence of
arrest— I'm losing my mind. Of course, you've just come
from Brixton.”


HEPPELWHITE SPRINGS A SURPRISE
243
"Brimsgrove in court?”
“Yes; he wasn't called. I had a full report from Harman.”
“H'm. Well, we shall have to see him and question him,
I suppose, sir.”
“I suppose so," Cross replied, rather wearily.
There was a knock at the door and Heppelwhite came in.
He was looking rather excited.
“Yes, Heppelwhite, what is it?”
"Brimsgrove, sir. The man you put on the house reports
that he's left in a car with lots of luggage, sir. He wants
to know what to do about it.”
“The deuce he does! Is he paralysed ?" Cross was fuming.
“We shall have to get the car traced. Got the number?”
"Yes, sir. BLA 1859. Green Humber saloon.”
“What are we going to do if he leaves the country?
We've got nothing we can stop him for.”
"Excuse me, sir.” Heppelwhite's face broke into a grin,
which he hurriedly suppressed. “I think we might have.
His landlords have a writ out against him for his rent, sir,
and I've found a man who is trying to make up his mind
to charge him with embezzlement. Fellow director, sir,
of one of his companies—the Central African Natural
Products Syndicate, I think it's called.”
“Then that's it!" Cross roared, for once showing great
excitement. “Get that man and force him to lay an informa-
tion, Heppelwhite. Then get a warrant sworn—and we'll
have him."
"He's got a good start, sir,” Johnny interposed, feeling
it was his turn to become despondent.
“That means nothing,” Cross snapped. He picked up the
telephone and spent a busy ten minutes giving instructions.
If Brimsgrove wanted to flee the country, it was now
practically impossible for him to do so. Every port and


244
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
aerodrome was ready. The whole police system had been
switched into operation. Cross leant back in his chair,
gazing at Lamb with an air of triumph.
“Our luck's turned,” he remarked, producing his cherry-
wood pipe. “And about time too. I never expected Heppel-
white would be so quick on the job. I believe he's got secret
sources of information about everyone and everything. You
could learn a lot from him, Lamb.”
“Yes, sir. But am I always to be at school?” His tone
was rather querulous. “I've been at it ever since I was
born. First Father, now you. I escaped from one thing into
the other."
Cross looked at him in surprise.
“What's the matter, Lamb? Where're your high spirits?"
“They'll return. I'm getting old—it's a touch of the gout.”
"Fiddlesticks! You've still got the shell sticking to your
head. You've done well on this case," Cross continued,
feeling that some encouragement was necessary. "Still a
bit crude at times, mark you,” he added hurriedly, as
Johnny started to grin, “but you're coming along."
"Thank you for them kind words. Oughtn't we to be
moving now that we've got Brimsgrove out of the way?
Can't we get a search warrant?"
"Hardly, till the warrant's out for his arrest. Yes,
come in.”
The knock on the door heralded the return of Heppel-
white. He was smiling with satisfaction.
“What now, Heppelwhite?”
"Information sworn, sir," he reported punctiliously.
Cross looked at him in amazement.
"How on earth ... ? Did you have the man waiting
downstairs?”
“Yes, sir. He was a slippery-looking chap, sir, name of


248
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
retorted. “A man who combines both is beyond reproach.”
He put back the book and resumed his search. Presently
he called the inspector to his side again.
"Remember the Comprehensive Treatise, sir?"
“The book you found here?”
“Yes. There's the complete set-minus Volume I. So it
was hardly Chandler's, though we knew that.”
The book-case appeared to lose its interest; Lamb turned
away and began a rather aimless examination of the rest
of the room. Meanwhile, Cross had been trying to open
the desk in the corner. Meeting with no success, he turned
to Johnny.
"Can you do anything here? You opened Chandler's box
all right.”
Johnny took one glance at the lock.
"No, sir. I'd rather not try, though I dare say there are
some interesting things in there. Aren't we entitled to
break it open?"
"That's not altogether approved of, Lamb, but I think
we might take a chance.
He called in one of his men who was on duty outside
the door and gave him instructions; then he joined Johnny
in the general search.
“We'll have to look over the whole house, of course,”
he commented. “This was the obvious place to start, and
we've already found something useful.”
“Yes.” Johnny was a trifle doubtful. “I'm not sure if it's
the right place now. Would Brimsgrove hide the incrimi-
nating things, if there are any, in this library, or even in
this house? We've got nothing yet but strong suspicion.
Chandler's word stands against his—and that's not enough
to get him into court. We don't know for sure whether
it was Brimsgrove who put the bottle into the inspection


SERGEANT LAMB MAKES SOME DISCOVERIES
249
chamber. We don't know whether he had the knowl-
edge. ..."
“You're getting rattled, Lamb." Cross's voice was almost
solicitous. “What about that prize you found?”
“Nothing much in that, except to strengthen suspicion,
sir. It doesn't indicate any more than that Brimsgrove had
an elementary knowledge of chemistry. I wonder if we
could trace anything about him from that school? Couldn't
we send Heppelwhite down?”
“That's worth considering, Lamb. The more we know
the better.”
After a moment's thought, Cross nodded to himself and
picked up the telephone, which lay on a table beside the
desk. In a couple of minutes, he was talking to Heppel-
white, giving that glutton for work some fresh instructions.
Then he turned to see whether the desk was open.
The constable had had to open it by sheer brute force,
using a poker as a lever.
"Special lock, sir, reinforced round the edges," the man
remarked, breathing heavily from his exertions. Cross
merely nodded; he was beyond caring how things were
done so long as he got somewhere. Johnny's sudden fit of
doubt had unsettled him.
Methodically he started to sort through the contents of
the desk, taking the papers from each pigeon-hole in turn,
looking through them, and replacing them. Johnny's
proffered help was refused as likely to cause confusion, so
he sat by, watching closely.
For the most part, the papers were purely business ones
of no particular interest. Cross found, however, a threaten-
ing letter from the bank in connection with a heavy over-
draft; this he set aside. The rest yielded nothing of any
importance at all.


250
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
Wearily he turned to the pedestal drawers on either side
of the knee-hole. There were three on the left hand and
two-one normal and one double ledger drawer on the
right. He took the left side first.
The top drawer yielded only a miscellaneous collection
of stationery; some headed note-paper, foolscap, and blot-
ting-paper. At the back, however, Cross found a further
supply of printed paper bearing an address in Westbourne
Grove; he took a sample of this for investigation. The
second drawer was filled with legal-looking documents
tied up with pink tape. A specimen packet turned out to
consist of a contract and relative correspondence. Cross
made a note of the fact and shut the drawer; these were
matters for expert examination. The third drawer was
practically empty, except for one or two trade catalogues,
which Cross handed with a smile to Johnny.
"More in your line than in mine," was his comment.
The last drawer on this side was crammed full with
paid cheques returned from the bank. Brimsgrove obviously
believed in keeping everything; when Cross pulled out a
bundle at random, he found the cheques were dated 1929.
Nothing seemed to be coming of this search-a fact that
was very disappointing to the inspector, who had hoped for
some valuable evidence, either of fraud or in connection
with the murder. He started on the right-hand tier with a
grim look on his face.
Here again the contents of the first drawer were quite
colourless. There were the title deeds of the house, some
receipts for ground rent, electricity, gas, and rates, and an
unpaid bill from a plumber. Johnny was looking over his
shoulder while the examination was in progress. Cross held
up the bundle with a grimace.
“Fat lot of good all this is,” he grumbled. “All these


SERGEANT LAMB MAKES SOME DISCOVERIES 251
receipts make him look like a good citizen who paid his
way. If they were final demands, writs, or distraints, they'd
be more helpful.”
Johnny took the pile and turned it idly. The inspector
opened the large ledger drawer and did not notice that
Johnny slipped one of the papers into his pocket before
returning the bundle.
This, the last drawer of all contained account books of
various kinds, each labelled on the back with the year to
which it related. Cross picked up the latest one and scanned
its pages.
"Well,” he said at last, "these don't mean much to me,
but so far as I can see, his domestic affairs were in order."
He pointed to an entry dated the day before. "He even
paid his gas bill before he left. Rum, isn't it?”
“Rum's not the word, sir. I wonder how he paid it?”
Johnny looked up from the bank letter Cross had set
aside. “It couldn't be by cheque on the Metropolitan and
Provinces.” He tapped the letter. “The manager says here
that unless the account is put in credit at once, he will
have no alternative but to return any cheques on the
account marked 'Refer to Drawer'-which means nothing
doing. Brimsgrove's standing with the bank was just non-
existent-you know banks don't go marking customers'
cheques ‘R.D.' unless they are absolutely forced to.”
“That's true; perhaps he paid in cash.”
"Or perhaps he had another account where he kept a
secret hoard. It's only a small point, but it's worth looking
into. It shows the man had sufficient money somewhere
not to worry about little things. Of course, the ledger entry
might be a fake.”
"It might; but why?"
"Some people do these things to deceive themselves.”


252
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
“Doesn't sound likely to me.”
The inspector rose as he spoke and glanced at the top of
the desk, which was piled up with magazines and journals
in addition to the reference books Lamb had noticed on
their previous visit.
“Nothing interesting there,” he remarked.
Johnny turned to the pile, running the papers through
his fingers.
“The plot thickens!” he exclaimed suddenly. “Why did
Brimsgrove read the Architectural Times? Was architec-
ture another of his sidelines?” He picked up four copies
of the journal, opening the first at the table of contents.
"Light-blinding light! This copy contains a description
of Sion House.” He referred quickly to the others. “The
description is continued in each of them. Notice this, sir;
these copies are dated last November—that'd be just about
the opening of Sion House—but they're very clean and
don't look a bit as though they'd been lying about for a
year. I wonder why this one is more dog-eared than the
rest?" He turned the pages of the copy as he spoke. His
eyebrows mounted in a look of comical surprise. “Now
we've got him!”
Cross took the proffered journal, glancing at the article
Johnny indicated. He whistled in astonishment as he began
to read.
"Ventilation and Air-Conditioning at Sion House: A Unique Sys-
tem to Meet Special Needs: Individual Air-Flow Control.” By David
Williams, A.M.I.Mech.E., M.I.Chem.E., Chief Engineer of the Atmos-
pheric Treatment Co. Ltd.
"That looks fishy," Cross remarked. “Some of the parts
are marked in pencil. What are they about?”.
Johnny ran quickly through the article, paying particu-


SERGEANT LAMB MAKES SOME DISCOVERIES
253
lar attention to the marked passages. A smile broadened on
his face as he proceeded.
"This is very interesting, sir," he said, when he had
finished reading. "The parts marked are those that deal
specially with the control system for each flat-you know,
sir, the extractor valve, the minimum rates of flow, and
the lay-out of the pipes on the sixth floor-all the points
he'd want to know if he was going to do the trick!"
Cross's depression lifted.
"I think it might be a good idea to find out from the
publishers if they had an order for these copies fairly
recently,” Johnny suggested. “They look new to me and
probably came from the back-numbers department.”
A note was made in the inspector's book.
“That's one thing more," he commented.
“But it doesn't prove anything. You were right, sir,
when you said this case always ended in snags. I'm certain
Brimsgrove was in it, but we can't definitely lay our hands
on him. I wonder what else there is?”
He roamed round the room, rather like a cat exploring
strange surroundings.
“Let's have a look outside, sir,” he proposed. Cross
nodded agreement.
They wandered round the building, making a thorough
search of each room. It was a typical large Victorian house,
with a basement and three floors. On the ground floor was
a large hall with a lounge alcove, a drawing-room running
the full length of the house from front to back and with
a conservatory attached to it, a dining-room, and a morning-
room with a veranda overlooking the garden. On the first
floor was the library, a bath-room, a large bedroom with
its own bath-room and dressing-room, and two smaller
bedrooms. None of these revealed anything out of the


254
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
ordinary; they were expensively furnished with an odd
lack of character, in a style neither modern nor period.
Johnny turned away from the last bedroom and started
to climb to the top floor, to which the staircase was nar-
rower and steeper.
Here there were four small maids' bedrooms and another
bath-room, which had apparently been added as an after-
thought, for it was merely partitioned off from the largest
of the bedrooms by a wood-fibre wall. Facing the stair-
case, however, was another room provided with a Yale
lock. Cross glanced significantly at Johnny.
“Wonder what's in there?” he asked. “Another break-
ing-in job.”
He leant over the baluster and called for the constable,
who toiled massively up the stairs. He smiled when the
door was 'indicated to him, and hurled his weighty frame
at it as though he had been born for no other purpose
than to be a human battering-ram. The door held-it was
'solidly constructed; but at last it gave, and the constable
just saved himself from shooting headlong into the room.
Cross and Lamb entered eagerly.
There was no covering on the floor, and the room was
barely furnished with a plain, solid-looking table, a chair,
and a smaller table. Three steel cupboards stood against
the walls, while a number of packing-cases were ranged
round the floor. Light filtered in from a window that had
not been cleaned for a long time. The whole room had an
air of neglect.
Johnny switched on the light-a single, unshaded gas-
filled lamp immediately over the table.
"I wonder what he uses this room for?” Johnny mused.
"We shall have to go through those cupboards. It'll be a
tough job. They've all got cylinder locks-Yales, too."


SERGEANT LAMB MAKES SOME DISCOVERIES
255
“There are the cases."
Johnny was looking at the table-top and barely noticed
Cross's suggestion. The strong, glaring light from the
lamp overhead shone on the dust, which glistened. For-
getting everything else, he scraped some of it on a piece of
paper and teased it out with a pin. For a moment he stood
looking at it closely; then, without a word, he passed it
to Cross.
“Well?” the inspector asked, after making an exami-
nation.
“Brass filings. This room has possibly been used as a
work-room.”
“We can probably find that out from the maids."
“Yes; but there's not much need." Lamb had been going
over the table surface carefully. “On this corner,” he con-
tinued, pointing, “something's been screwed on with a
clamp-probably a vice. If you look, you'll see a sort of
square base fairly free of dust, while the brass filings-
and some iron ones too—are thickest outside the edges of
the square. All around that corner there are scratches as
though tools had been laid down, while elsewhere the
surface is clear of them. I wonder ..."
He looked round. His eyes fell on a wooden box beneath
the table; he dragged it out, ripping off the lid—a rough
affair consisting of three pieces of wood screwed together
on battens.
“H'm,” he said. “Tools. Not an expert's outfit. This man
knew nothing about 'em. Nobody in his senses'd chuck a
firmer chisel unprotected into the same box as files. The
edge would be ruined.”
"Firmer chisel?”
“Yes, sir—what carpenters use for cutting wood.”
He turned out the box. There was a small vice, whose


256
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
jaws were heavily coated with brass filings, a couple of
smooth-cut files, also clogged with brass, a hammer with
a claw head, and various odds and ends, including a short
piece of brass piping. Johnny looked at the last-named with
interest, though he made no comment.
“Not much of a collection," he commented. “The tools
he'd need to install the bottle aren't here. What do you
think he did with them?”
They started rummaging in the other boxes, merely
bringing to light a varied assortment of goods such as
collects naturally in a box-room_discarded ornaments,
broken domestic equipment, some old bound copies of
Punch, and miscellanea.
“The cupboards next, I suppose,” Cross suggested
gloomily.
"You'll have to get a locksmith to those," Johnny
answered. “No, sir, we've struck a snag again. Are they
going to report as soon as Brimsgrove's picked up?"
“Of course. They'll telephone. He ought to be in by now.”
"H'm.” Again Johnny started his cat-like prowl. Sud-
denly he stopped and peered at the floor, eventually going
down on his hands and knees to examine it more closely.
"I wonder, sir," he said, looking up with a happy smile,
"why these floorboards have been taken up. Bit funny,
don't you think?"
"Might be. Going to investigate?”
“You bet, sir. As Brimsgrove doesn't seem to value his
chisel, I'll use that."
He fetched it and prised up the boards.
"Ordinary wire nails aren't the best thing for laying
floorboards,” he remarked.
"Oh? What are, then?"


SERGEANT LAMB MAKES SOME DISCOVERIES 257
"Flat ones, sir, with Alush heads that can be driven in
so that they don't leave a bump. Here she comes!”
He wrenched up one board and then the other, leaving
a cavity. It was apparently full of newspaper. Johnny
fished in the hole, bringing a bundle to the surface.
"Financial Times of last Wednesday, sir. That's in-
teresting.”
He unwrapped the parcel carefully.
"And so's that.” He brought to light a brown boiler
suit and a pair of rubber gloves. “This seems more
promising."
With growing excitement, he produced the other parcels;
their contents proved to be an engineer's ball-pane hammer,
a pair of gas-pliers with the jaws clogged with brass, a
brass pipe union, and a label. The latter he read with a
quizzical expression before passing it to Cross.
“'Hugh Chandler, Esq.,'” he read aloud, “c/o The
Albatross and General Trust, Limited, Shakspere Cham-
bers, Holborn, E.C.1' Pretty, isn't it? See where it comes
from?”
“The Spear Engineering Company. That was that firm
of Brimsgrove's Chandler got his stuff from, wasn't it?”
Johnny nodded.
"Wait a minute. There's something else—a bit of news-
paper's sticking out over the joist. I'll have to take up
another board."
Quickly he set to work. At length he revealed a long
object covered in newspaper lying in a space all to itself.
He pulled at it, but was unable to move it on account of
its weight. With Cross's help, it was lifted out. Shorn of
its wrappings, it was seen to be a long steel cylinder with
a valve at one end.


258
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"A commercial gas-cylinder. I think this is the last
act, sir."
Cautiously he turned the valve and sniffed carefully.
Then he closed the valve quickly.
"Have a whiff,” he suggested hospitably.
The inspector bent down.
“Careful, sir; you don't want too much of it.”
Cross breathed out again and sniffed delicately. A
pungent, not unpleasing, odour met his nostrils. He sniffed
again, less cautiously, and started coughing.
“Now you know what pure ozone smells like.” Johnny
rose to his feet looking pleased and triumphant. “The
smell's enough, but I'd like to put it beyond doubt.”
He looked round the room and noted an old-fashioned
gas fire with a boiling-ring attached standing in the fire-
place.
"That”ll do. I'll use that unfortunate chisel again.”
Having lighted the ring, he held the cleaned blade of the
chisel in the flames till it was a bright red. Very cautiously
he turned on the valve of the cylinder, holding the chisel
about six inches away from the nozzle. A faint blue haze,
which deepened quickly, appeared in the air. Hurriedly
he closed the valve.
"That's proof positive, sir. Here are the tools and here's
the ozone-under pressure, too; that's why the cylinder is
covered with wire netting. That lets Brimsgrove into it up
to the neck."
"What about the label?”
“Damn the label! Shall we go back, sir, and do some
checking?”


CHAPTER XXV
INSPECTOR CROSS BECOMES ANNOYED
On the way back to Scotland Yard, Johnny outlined a
course of action to which the inspector agreed without
enthusiasm.
“You're guessing again, Lamb,” he said uneasily. “You're
too anxious to get Chandler out of it.”
"He didn't have a hand in it, sir, I'm convinced of that.
This case won't be complete until we've cleared him. It's
Brimsgrove's right through. I've known it all along."
"Then what about Nimmo and your idea that Brims-
grove and Chandler were collaborating?"
“Those were possible assumptions, sir, on the facts. We
had to tackle them. Inside me, I've never really believed
in Chandler's guilt since we found out about the money
position and I saw those nuts on the unions."
“The nuts?” Cross was obviously surprised.
“No engineer would have done a thing like that,"
Johnny said. “It would be as though an animal-lover tried
to throttle a sick horse instead of shooting it. It'd cause
him anguish."
There was still no news of Brimsgrove when they re-
turned. Heppelwhite had telephoned a message to say he
was on his way back from Sutton with a report on what
he had discovered there. Cross wanted to wait for it, but
259


INSPECTOR CROSS BECOMES ANNOYED
263
resume his technical studies, but he had refused, preferring
to go in for the commercial side, as he put it. Little more
had been heard of him after that.
“So,”. Johnny said. “Now the grisly past is out. I think if
he'd done a year at Finsbury-pity they closed that place
down, sir-he'd know enough for this little job, and it
explains what Chandler said about his chemical knowledge.
We can make out a consistent story now."
“Yes, I think it's building up, Lamb, but you'd better not
say any more until the report comes in from Grayling's.
We've still to catch Brimsgrove. You haven't cleared
Chandler yet.”
"No." Johnny looked thoughtful. “But I think we can.
We ought to have done so before, but we've been blind-
blind-blind!”
He slammed his hand on the table in exasperation.
"What on earth are you talking about?”.
“I've been blind. You, sir, if I may be permitted to say
so, have been blind too."
"I don't see- Yes?” Cross shouted irritably as there
was a tap at the door. It was the man who had been down
to Grayling's. Luckily the London office had been able to
give particulars of the order for a venturi tube; if it had
gone direct to the works, inquiries would have involved
a journey out to the Great West Road.
"They've traced the order, sir," the man said respect-
fully, in the broad, rather sing-song tones of Hampshire.
“Came in about three weeks ago. I've brought it with me,
Wher, sir," thenes of Hash me,
sir.”
He laid the paper on the table, saluted, and left the
room. Cross ignored it.
“How am I blind, Lamb? Come on.”
Johnny grinned broadly.


264
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
"Let's look at this first, sir-please.” His voice took on a
pleasantly pleading note that Cross found himself unable
to resist, in spite of the injury caused to his pride by
Johnny's earlier remark.
They looked at the order, reading it through carefully
and comparing it with the forms collected from the Spear
Company.
"There's no doubt about that. The method's the same
in both cases. Stuff ordered in Chandler's name to be
delivered at Brimsgrove's office, and in the same writing,
though it's not Chandler's.”
Johnny nodded in agreement with the inspector's
summing-up. They both remained silent for a space, busy
with their thoughts. Cross spoke first.
“We're getting on slowly. All this implicates Brimsgrove
up to the eyebrows. We don't know whether he did it
alone or if Chandler was in it; it's still one's word against
the other's. Oh, I forgot,” he added with heavy irony, “I'm
blind. Come on, Lamb, you must tell me why—no
wriggling this time.”
Johnny looked up with an innocent smile.
“We'll go and ask Miss Prillkins, sir. I think she'll tell
you."
"Miss Prillkins? What's she got to do with it?"
“That's what I want to show you. Shall we go now? If
we went at once, she would probably give us tea,” he con-
cluded wistfully.
“Oh, all right. Seems to me I'm under orders now.”
There was no malice in Cross's remark.
Miss Prillkins was delighted to see them.
"Come in, gentlemen. I am so glad you've come at last.
I am anxious for news of the case. I must say, Inspector, I
feel a little hurt.”


266
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
He turned to hell do you w demanded,
nu gassing.”.
uneasily. He was appeased somewhat when Miss Prillkins's
tea was brought in and she invited them to join her; but all
the time, the conversation droned on, with Johnny aiding
and abetting at every point. It was nearly an hour later
when they got away.
Cross was fuming when at last Miss Prillkins's door
closed, her invitation to Johnny to call again still echoing.
He turned to his assistant.
"Why the hell do you want to waste time talking to
that old antimacassar?” he demanded. “We've got work
to do, Lamb; we can't spend the whole day gassing."
"Keeping her sweet, sir. Shall we see Nimmo now?”
"Nimmo? Look here, Lamb, you've wasted enough time
asking senseless questions. We'll see Nimmo, though I
don't know what your idea is, and then we go straight
back. Understand?"
“Yes, sir,” Johnny replied meekly.
Nimmo greeted them more cordially than he had on
previous visits.
"Come in, gentlemen, come in. Not going to arrest me,
I hope?" he chuckled.
“No, sir." Johnny smiled. “Just come to ask you a tech-
nical-or perhaps I should say trade-question. Do you
know the Spear Engineering Company?”
"Spear? Yes. Rockiest show in the trade. Wouldn't give
'em that much credit.” He snapped his fingers.
"Thank you, sir. You've had no business dealings with
them?"
"Occasionally, for cash down. That's all.”
“Thank you again, sir. We won't trouble you further."
Nimmo seemed surprised. Cross nearly had apoplexy in
the passage.


INSPECTOR CROSS BECOMES ANNOYED
267
“I've given you a great deal of rope, but this has gone
too far. You're wasting time."
"Sorry, sir. Don't you see the importance of the Prill-
kins's statement? If she heard the row after she had heard
the workman, the workman couldn't be Chandler. We've
proof at last, sir, that he didn't do it. Whoever put that
flask in place is the murderer. You can take it that Brims-
grove wouldn't be acting under Chandler's orders—you do
admit that, don't you?"
“Yes.”
“If Chandler was working under Brimsgrove's orders,
why should Brimsgrove do the one thing that Chandler
could have done better? He would have stormed Chandler
into doing it instead of taking the risk of making a mess
of it himself. I think we can say that Brimsgrove knew
enough of his limitations."
"Right, Lamb. That's fair enough. I'm sorry I snapped
just now," he added gruffly. “I didn't see " He broke
off with a chuckle. "Of course, I was still blind," he said.
“We both were over those times, sir,” Johnny said rue-
fully. “It would have saved a lot of trouble if we hadn't
been. What do we do about Chandler now?"
"He'll have to wait till we get Brimsgrove. Then, if
Brimsgrove makes a statement, we'll offer no evidence
when he comes up again-provided, of course, the state-
ment lets Chandler out and we can check it up.”
“Right, sir.”
“When they got back to the office, Cross found an urgent
message for him. As he picked it up, his face lightened.
“Thank God!” he exclaimed. “They've pulled in Brims-
grove at last!”


272
THE CASE OF THE RUSTED ROOM
His tone was one of complete detachment, as though
he was talking of events and people quite outside himself.
He smiled cheerily at the grave expression on the inspec-
tor's face.
"Then Wiseman's flat interested me. I got hold of the
reports about it. I had wonderful luck, Inspector; I always
had until I tried too much; and it looked as though it was
going to hold again. For if Wiseman was made to die, and
ozone was made to kill him, Sion House was designed to
make the application of ozone easy. You know about that
freak air-conditioning system?”
“Yes,” Johnny said. “We know all about that.”
“Good. Then you know how it was done. Luck helped
me again when I looked up Chandler's record and saw
he'd been with the makers of that air system. I asked him
about it one day when I was at his digs. He turned up a
testimonial from them and let fall a visiting-card, which I
collared. Up till then I'd intended to fake a service call and
put in the ozone flask by sheer bluff. I knew I could do
that, but the card was a godsend. I decided my luck was
running strong, and that convinced me that what I'd made
up my mind to do was foreordained.”
Johnny looked pained. Like most modern scientists, he.
did not believe in determinism.
"No, I'm not religious or mystical—just an old-fashioned
scientist brought up on cause and effect. The modern
blokes don't hold with it, but it's always seemed right to
me. Let's get on with the story."
He stretched his legs as he sat on the hard bed.
"I carried it off. There was some valet or other who
butted in, but the card did the trick. An old fool came and
tried to poke his nose in, but I didn't let him have a look-
see. I'd arranged for Chandler to be on the premises so


TWO DETECTIVES HEAR A STATEMENT 275
never a mechanic. It seems to me that I'm not even a
chemist.”
They went out and left him alone.
Three hours later a distracted warder reported that
Brimsgrove was dead in his cell. The doctor diagnosed
aconitine poisoning. The turn-up of Brimsgrove's trouser
leg was ripped open; he had obviously kept a supply there
in readiness.
There was a great deal said about it officially, and some
severe heart-searchings followed.
Cross was not altogether displeased, and said so to
Johnny Lamb.
“These scientific cases are always difficult to prove," he
observed. “A jury always doubts scientific evidence, and the
only other evidence really was his statement. The rest
wouldn't have convicted him. Well, I suppose we withdraw
the charge against Chandler now. There'll be more rows
about that,” he added wearily.
Johnny said nothing. The case was over so far as he was
concerned, and he felt unusually sombre.


CHAPTER XXVII
MISS PRILLKINS HAS THE LAST WORD
Miss PRILLKINS handed Johnny his fourth cup of tea and
smiled dotingly on him.
"I do like to see a man enjoy his tea, Mr. Lamb," she
purred. “But I'm still very disappointed in you—and in
you too, Inspector."
“How's that, ma'am?” The inspector, who had been
inveigled by Johnny into attending this tea-party, smiled.
“We owe a lot to you for starting us on it, and we've
cleared it up."
“Yes, Inspector. But you let off that young man, and he
ought not to have been let off.” She pursed her lips firmly.
“He wanted Mr. Wiseman to die, and that makes him a
murderer as much as if he'd actually committed the deed.
Moral responsibility, Inspector. Most young men today
haven't got any. A few of us are trying to inculcate it in
growing youth.” Her eyes roved to the picture of herself
amid her Girl Guides.
"I'm afraid the law doesn't concern itself with niceties
like that, ma'am.” Cross wriggled uneasily on his seat, try-
ing to escape the raw October wind that sang through the
wide-open windows.
“Then the law is wrong. We, as citizens, must change
it. Right living would have saved us all this bother,” she
continued. “If that young man had had proper respect for
276