MURDER
IN
THE
DENTIST
CHAIR






PER
CHAIR
MOLLY THYNNE
COVICI s FRIEDE, PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK


COPYRIGHT, 1932, BY COVICI, FRIEDE, INC.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA


MURDER
IN
THE
DENTIST
CHAIR





CHAPTER ONE
"Rinse, please."
The words reached the patient faintly, coming, it
seemed, from an immeasurable distance. Barely conscious
though he was, he experienced the mere ghost of a sense
of satisfaction. He was still alive, then.
He opened his eyes. Mr. Humphrey Davenport was
standing over him holding a glass full of a pinkish liquid
in his hand, his long, yellow countenance wrinkled into
an encouraging smile.
"Rinse, please," he repeated. This time the words came
briskly and clearly.
The patient sat up and rinsed obediently. The liquid,
as it left his mouth, took on a much deeper shade of red,
and, at the sight of it, the full significance of this weird
ritual came home to him. He made a swift exploration
with his tongue and discovered a truly awful void.
"'Ou-ve thathen them au' outh!" he ejaculated faintly.
Long experience had made Mr. Davenport familiar with
this form of elocution. He beamed.
"All the upper incisors," he assented cheerfully. "Eight
altogether. They came out beautifully. Like to see them?"
He held out a repulsive little tray before which his vic-
tim recoiled, the full sense of his loss slowly dawning on
him. His front teeth had gone and nothing in the world


8
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
would bring them back. He returned to his rinsing.
There seemed nothing else to do and, as he bent over his
task, he heard the door close softly behind the doctor.
The whole ghastly business was over.
The dentist chatted on.
"We'll give the gums time to recover and then fit you
up with a temporary plate. Meanwhile, I should like to
see the mouth again. Sometime tomorrow, if you can
manage it."
The patient's sense of humor had never been very con-
spicuous and, at the moment, it was greatly in abeyance,
but even he could see the irony of such an implication.
"I'm harthy lithy tho hathe athy enthathemeth," he
lisped bitterly. Then, with a more acute realisation of the
disaster that had befallen him. "Goo' Heatheth, I earth
eveth torth dithincly!"
Once more Mr. Davenport exhibited uncanny skill in
interpretation.
"You'll soon get used to that," he asserted reassuringly.
"By tomorrow we shall have you talking splendidly. It's
only a question of habit."
He flicked over the leaves of his engagement book.
"Three o'clock tomorrow, then," he said. "And the ad-
dress? You gave it to me, I remember, but, for the mo-
ment, I have forgotten."
The patient suspended his rinsing operations.
"Therthothethy Thotheth," he volunteered painfully.
For a moment even Mr. Davenport was baffled.
"Perthoaythy Hothay," amended the patient, with an
immense effort.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
9
The dentist's face cleared.
"Of course. The Pergolese Hotel. Mr. Cattistock."
Mr. Davenport inscribed a neat little card and handed
it to him. Ten minutes later he was being bowed out and
when, badly shaken, morally and physically, he returned
to the waiting room, a large handkerchief pressed to the
lower part of his face, he presented a spectacle calculated
to inspire terror in the minds of any other of Mr. Daven-
port's patients unfortunate enough to see him.
There was only one. Sir Richard Pomfrey, already a
prey to uneasiness, gave one glance in his direction and
retired behind the decayed periodical in which he had
been trying to interest himself.
"Good Lord," he murmured and wished, sincerely and
devoutly, that the morning was over.
A moment later his summons came and, squaring his
shoulders, he strode out to meet his fate.
One ordeal still remained to Mr. Cattistock. Left to
himself, he rose shakingly to his feet and, approaching the
mirror over the mantelpiece, removed the handkerchief
from his mouth. He gave one glance at his reflection and,
with a low moan, tottered back to his seat and retired
once more behind his already nauseating yashmak.
He sat huddled in his chair, slowly recovering from
Mr. Davenport's ministrations. The effects had been
moral rather than physical and, as his mind readjusted
itself, his despair increased. Never again, he felt con-
vinced, would he enjoy the sound of his own voice, mel-
low and well-modulated, faultlessly articulating the noble
prose he loved so well. He realised, now that it was too


10
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
late, how sinfully proud he had been of his delivery. No
doubt this was a judgment, and a just one, on his vanity.
He had reached this depressing, but far from comfort-
ing, stage in his reflections when the door opened and
another patient invaded his solitude. He regarded her
over the edge of his handkerchief with the faint interest
of the wholly miserable.
She swept in, exuding opulence and well-being, and
Mr. Cattistock, who in his normal state was a kindly, toler-
ant person, took an instant and violent dislike to her.
And for this he had some excuse, though his mental de-
nunciations were perhaps unnecessarily acrimonious. She
was too fat, he told himself viciously, too old for her
ultra-fashionable and expensive clothes, and altogether too
dyed, painted and powdered. He took exception to the
small, scarlet, bad-tempered mouth, but, most of all, he
hated her for her teeth which showed, small and white
and even, between the painted lips. Mr. Cattistock was an
unsophisticated person and none too observant at the best
of times and he had no inkling that those teeth owed their
being to the skill of Mr. Humphrey Davenport. Had he
known this, a faint ray of light might have illuminated
his gloom. As it was he was thrust, if possible, even more
deeply into the abyss by the atrocious manners of the
newcomer, who gave one glance at his now revolting
handkerchief, turned away with an exaggerated shudder
of disgust and, pointedly altering the position of an arm-
chair, sat down with her back to him. Mr. Cattistock
loathed her as he crouched in his corner, trying to sum-
mon up sufficient energy to go away.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
ii
From his position he could only see her hand now, fat,
coarsely moulded and heavily beringed, the fingers beat-
ing an impatient tattoo on the arm of her chair. Insen-
sibly he began appraising the rings which loaded the
pudgy fingers. He possessed a love and appreciation of
precious stones quite out of keeping with his circum-
stances and hated to see them in uncongenial surround-
ings. There was an emerald on her third finger that must
have cost a fortune. Then she rose and, bending over the
table, tossed the papers over impatiently in an attempt to
find something to read. The full panoply of her regalia
was now revealed to Mr. Cattistock and he gasped at
the sight. For above the diamond star that heaved upon
her bosom hung another emerald, the finest he had ever
seen, and Mr. Cattistock, in his day, had handled some
of the rarest jewels in the world.
He was still blinking at it when the door opened to
the sound of voices and Sir Richard Pomfrey came in, in
animated conversation with another patient he had en-
countered in the hall. His face showed the complacence
of one whose visit to the dentist is over, but Cattistock,
watching him idly, saw the satisfaction cloud for a sec-
ond, as his eyes fell on the wearer of the emeralds. Then
he turned away and gave all his attention to his com-
panion. Cattistock, interested, cast a glance at the face of
the stout lady and was shocked at the venom he saw
there. Her lips parted, and he thought she was about to
give expression to her feelings; then, before the little
drama could develop further, the door opened and she
was swept out of the room in the wake of Mr. Daven-


12
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
port's deferential manservant. Sir Richard did not seem
to notice her departure, but Cattistock could have sworn
that there was relief in his eyes as he bent over the lady
he was addressing. Everything about her was in delight-
ful contrast to her predecessor, and Mr. Cattistock, even
in his present jaundiced state, found pleasure in looking
at her. He continued to do so until she happened to
glance in his direction and he surprised a look of min-
gled sympathy and repugnance in her eyes. He glanced at
his handkerchief and realised, with a shock, that it was
deeply stained with red. Feeling suddenly abominably
conspicuous, he rose and left the room.
Sir Richard's relief at his departure was undisguised.
He hitched his chair closer to that of his companion and
took up the conversation where it had ceased on their en-
trance into the room. For another five minutes or so it
flowed on uninterruptedly and Mrs. Vallon had almost
forgotten the aching tooth that had brought her to Mr.
Davenport's dread portals, when the turning of the door
handle and the soft murmur of the manservant's voice
gave warning of a further intrusion.
Sir Richard turned, with something approaching a
scowl on his good-tempered face, and glowered at the
new arrival. The latter, unperturbed, regarded him quiz-
zically.
Sir Richard's annoyance vanished abruptly.
"Dr. Constantinel" he exclaimed. "What's brought you
here?"
Constantine placed his hat and stick on the table.
"'The aching void the world can never fill,'" he


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
'3
quoted, with a sigh. "Only that or wild horses would
drag me to Ulbeck Street. Am I really the third on the
list?"
Sir Richard grinned.
"Your turn will come soon enough," he assured him.
"Davenport's finished with me, thank the Lord. You
know Mrs. Vallon, I think. She's for it in a minute."
Constantine bowed gravely.
"Moritorus te saluto," he murmured. "I knew your hus-
band well, Mrs. Vallon, in the great days of the Pagoda,
but I don't think we ever met. The old theatre has gone
deplorably downhill since then."
He was rewarded by an appreciative glance from her
fine eyes. Her late husband had been the most brilliant
actor-manager of his day, but she was already beginning
to learn that reputations swiftly made are, nowadays, as
swiftly forgotten, and she was grateful for so genuine a
tribute.
"I am glad sometimes that he did not live to see it in
other hands," was all she said, but she looked on Con-
stantine now with friendliness as well as interest.
She had heard of him, of course, but, until now, they
had never met. The only son of a rich Greek merchant, he
had been a notable figure in London society when she was
still a girl at school, partly owing to his good looks, partly
to sheer force of character. He was one of the finest chess
players in England, but Society recks little of the game
and had this been his only claim to distinction, he would
have been unknown outside the chess columns of the
daily papers. As it was, it would be difficult to define the


14
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
reasons for his success. "Constantine has a flair for every-
thing," Mrs. Vallon's shrewd old father had once said,
"from cooking to Grand Opera, and his taste's hardly
ever at fault." With the instinct of an acknowledged
beauty she knew now that this flair extended to pretty
women and that, as he faced her, his dark eyes ablaze
with a vitality disconcerting in so old a man, he was ap-
preciating her to the full. With the frankness that was
part of her charm she returned the compliment. Beside
Constantine's clear-cut, olive-skinned features, a trifle fine-
drawn now with age, surmounted by the still thick, virile
white hair, Sir Richard's florid good looks seemed blunted
and coarsened. With a queer little feeling of protection
she turned to the younger man, found his gaze, as usual,
fixed upon her, and for reasons she could not define,
liked him all the better for the clumsiness of his patent
adoration.
"Richard's crowing too soon," she said. "He's only
reached the temporary stopping stage, so far. His time's
to come."
Constantine smiled.
"Then I've the advantage of both of you," he declared.
"My tooth was stopped on Thursday! I've only dropped
in for a final polish. Judging by the unfortunate remnant
of humanity I met on the doorstep, Davenport's in a
savage mood today!"
Mrs. Vallon shuddered.
"Don't!" she implored him. "Do you realise that my
tooth hurts? Goodness knows what he may be going to do
to me!"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Sir Richard moved uneasily. He was in no mood for a
three-cornered conversation.
"I'll just ring my man up," he said. "Then I must be
going. It takes hours to get anywhere in this beastly fog.
In case you're in Davenport's clutches when I get back,
good luck! I hope he'll stop it aching, anyway," he added,
as he shook hands with Mrs. Vallon.
The manservant was not in the hall, but Sir Richard
had used Davenport's telephone before and knew where
to find it. He switched on the light and, shutting himself
into the dark little cupboard under the stairs, rang up his
flat.
Meanwhile Mrs. Vallon and Constantine settled down
to the task of knowing each other better. They possessed
a host of common acquaintances and it was due only to
the fact that she still clung to the theatrical set in which
she had moved during her husband's lifetime that they
had not met before. With unerring instinct Constantine
led the conversation to Sir Richard, whom he had known
since his schooldays, and found instantaneous response. It
was easy to see how things stood between these two.
The minutes passed. Mrs. Vallon's tooth, which, after
the manner of aching teeth, had become steadily less
painful since she had made her appointment with Mr.
Davenport, had now ceased to hurt. Indeed, until Con-
stantine alluded to it, she had forgotten all about it.
"Does Davenport know that you're in pain?" he asked.
"It isn't like him to keep you waiting."
"I'm not," she answered. "It's stopped aching altogether!
If he doesn't see me soon, I shall turn tail and go home!


i6
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
I can't keep my courage screwed up to concert pitch for-
ever!"
Constantine looked at his watch.
"My appointment was for twelve," he said, "and it's a
quarter past now. Richard must be ringing up half Lon-
don."
As he spoke the door opened and Sir Richard came in.
"Couldn't get through for ages," he said. "There's no
end of a fuss going on in the hall outside. Davenport
can't get into his own consulting room! He's sent down
for some tools, his man tells me. Doesn't look as if you
were going to get your turn for some time yet."
Constantine looked up quickly.
"Has the last patient gone, then?" he asked.
Sir Richard shrugged his shoulders.
"The chap outside says he hasn't let her out. I thought
I should find her in here."
Constantine rose and moved swiftly to the door.
"I say," expostulated Sir Richard, "she can't be locked
in there. She'd have made an appalling shindy by this
time!"
But Constantine had left the room, inspired by two mo-
tives: one, an inveterate dislike to playing gooseberry, the
other, that flair for a situation that lay behind the insati-
able curiosity that had led him into so many strange
places in the course of his varied life.



Constantine passed quickly down the hall and joined the
little group outside the consulting room door.
The dentist's mechanic who had been summoned from
the workroom below was kneeling in front of it, removing
the screws from the lock. Mr. Davenport, austere and
priestlike in his white overall, stood over him, a worried
frown on his usually imperturbable countenance.
"I can't understand it," he was saying. "I could swear
the key was there when I came out. Can you get the lock
off?"
The mechanic nodded.
"It's coming," he replied. "Lucky the screws are on the
outside."
Davenport's eyes fell on the new arrival.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Dr. Constantine," he
said. "But you see what's happened. I've never known
that lock to do such a thing before."
Constantine was watching the mechanic.
"The key's gone, I see," he remarked.
"It's not on the other side," answered Davenport. "You
can see right through the keyhole. I'm practically certain
it was on the outside as usual when I came out, but of
course I wasn't looking for it. I may be wrong."
"It's lucky for you that it chose a moment between two
17


18
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
appointments," continued Constantine. "I'm not sure that
I should care to be incarcerated among your instruments
of torture myself!"
The dentist's frown deepened.
"It didn't," he snapped. "There's a patient in there
now, unless she slipped out while I was in the work-
room downstairs."
"She's being very quiet then," said Constantine thought-
fully. "I wonder what she thinks is happening. Who is
she?"
"Mrs. Miller."
Constantine raised his eyebrows.
"Not Charles Miller's wife?"
The dentist nodded.
"The last person I would have had this happen to," he
murmured sombrely. "She won't forget it. One of my
best patients, too."
Constantine moved nearer to the door, bent his head
and listened.
"Not a sound," he said. "Yet she must know someone's
at work on the door. If Mrs. Miller were inside we should
have heard from her by now, if I know anything of the
lady. I think you may take it that she's gone home. Prob-
ably got tired of waiting and slammed the door after
her, jamming the lock. It's the sort of thing she would
do."
For answer Davenport thrust his hand into his overall
pocket, withdrew it and disclosed its contents.
"Not without her teeth," he asserted gloomily. "I've
got them here."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Constantine's mouth twitched involuntarily, but there
was no answering gleam in Davenport's sombre face. He
was gazing with professional pride at the denture in his
hand.
"There was a small adjustment," he continued. "I went
downstairs to make it. I was counting on having them
fitted and being well on with my next patient by now."
The mechanic twiddled the last screw out and dropped
it into his pocket.
"Done it," he said, as he helped the lock away from the
door with the screw driver. "It was locked all right. No
wonder we couldn't open it."
He rose to his feet, stood back while Davenport pushed
past him into the room, then collected his tools and de-
parted to his lair in the basement.
Constantine lingered. He had no earthly excuse to go
in, but for the life of him he could not resist waiting to
overhear Mrs. Miller's reception of Davenport.
To his surprise there was not a sound from inside the
room. Unconsciously he moved nearer to the door. Daven-
port was a taciturn creature, but surely even he would
hardly go quietly about his business without a word of
explanation to a notoriously temperamental patient? Mrs.
Miller's silence was more easily accounted for. Constan-
tine's lips twitched again as he reflected on the various
means dentists have at their disposal should they wish to
restrict any undue flow of language on the part of their
patients. He knew Mrs. Miller well by sight and had even
overheard her give vent to exasperation, and the vision of


20
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
her deftly gagged, say, with a little tray of plaster of
Paris, was an alluring one.
He was startled into alertness by the sound of his own
name.
"Dr. Constantine, are you there?"
Davenport's voice was low-pitched and even as usual,
but there was an unnatural note of restraint about it
that Constantine's sharp ears were quick to detect and
which brought him over the threshold before his own
reply had left his lips.
At the first glance there seemed nothing unusual in
the scene before him. Mrs. Miller was undoubtedly there,
seated in the dentist's chair, facing the window, her back
to the door. He could see the top of her head and one
pudgy, over-jewelled hand that was resting on the arm of
the chair. On the other side of the chair stood Daven-
port. Constantine's brain had time to register two impres-
sions: one, the unwonted quietness of Mrs. Miller, the
other, the hue of Davenport's face, which now exactly
matched the spotless white of the surgical overall he
wore, before the dentist spoke again in that toneless voice
that, but for the most rigid self-control, would have been
a shout.
"Will you shut the door, please, and look at this?"
Constantine closed the door. Owing to the absence of
a lock he could not latch it. Then he crossed the room to
the dentist's chair.
Davenport's voice came again, repeating, parrot-like:
"Just look at this!"
Constantine looked.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
21
There was a long silence before he spoke.
"What a fiendish business," he whispered at last. Then:
"Poor, poor soul!"
Mrs. Miller's head lay tilted back against the head-rest
of the chair, her mouth slightly open, as though await-
ing Davenport's ministrations. But where the fat white
roll of flesh underneath her chin should have been was
now a larger and more gaping travesty of the toothless
mouth above, a dark gash in which the blood that had
now ceased to spurt still frothed and bubbled.
Involuntarily Constantine closed his eyes, in a futile
attempt to shut out the horror, only to find himself con-
fronted with a worse assault upon his senses, for the dark-
ness became filled with the hot, sweet reek of blood. With
a shudder, he opened them again, keeping them resolutely
away from the chair and its burden. But there was blood
everywhere, even on the glass of the window pane, where
a little trickle had already reached the white woodwork.
Davenport was speaking mechanically, with stiff, dry
lips.
"Right through the jugular," he said. "God, what a
mess."
He stared at the denture in his hand with mild sur-
prise, as though he were seeing it for the first time, and
made a movement to put it down on the table by his side.
But the table was in no fit state to receive it and his hand
shot back as though it had been stung. With an air of
concentration that would have been absurd in other cir-
cumstances he crossed to the mantelpiece and carefully


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
deposited the denture on it. He stood gazing at it, his back
to the room.
"I'd better get onto the police," he said, at last.
Constantine nodded. He had been watching Davenport
and, oddly enough, in doing so, had regained his own
nerve. The passionate desire to know, stronger than any
idle curiosity, that had lured him down so many odd bye-
paths in the course of his life and had kept him young
and full of zest in spite of his years, had asserted itself,
and in contemplating Davenport's reactions to the shock,
he had insensibly shaken himself free from the mists of
pity and disgust that had obscured his vision. He stepped
back from the body and took the scene in, in detail, for
the first time.
The result was a low exclamation that brought the den-
tist to his side. His eyes followed Constantine's pointing
finger.
"Don't touch it," Constantine warned him. "That's
what it was done with, though."
Lying on the floor, to the left of the dentist's chair,
was a knife, not unlike a butcher's carver in shape, but
with a somewhat broader blade, its handle half covered
by the sleeve of a garment of some kind that had been
flung down beside it.
"Looks like one of my overalls," said Davenport, bend-
ing over it. "There was one hanging in the work
room. . . ."
His voice trailed off as he raised himself with a little
shiver of disgust. The thing was drenched with blood.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
23
"I can't stand this," he said suddenly. "The place is a
shambles. Besides, we must do something."
Constantine laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Steady," he said. "Where's your telephone?"
"In the hall, under the stairs."
"Get onto the police, then, and tell them to bring a sur-
geon. I'll keep watch on the door here and see that no
one comes in."
He did not follow Davenport out of the room, how-
ever, but stood brooding, his keen eyes taking in every
detail of the scene before him. When at last he did move
it was to step carefully to the window and stand peering
down onto the leads that formed the roof of the kitchen
underneath.
When Davenport returned from the telephone he
found him in the hall, just closing the door of the consult-
ing room behind him.
"I've found the key," he said.
Davenport stared at him.
"The key?" he repeated stupidly.
"Of this room, presumably. It's on the leads outside the
window there. It looks as if whoever attacked Mrs. Mil-
ler made his exit that way after locking the door."
Davenport assented absently. His mind was on other
things.
"That's a matter for the police," he said. "They're on
their way here now. What's bothering me is, those peo-
ple in the waiting room. My brain's gone, but there
should be a couple of patients there. What am I to do?
Get rid of them, or wait till the police come?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"There was only one when I left. Mrs. Vallon. Sir
Richard Pomfrey's there, but I gather that he's seen you."
Davenport frowned irritably.
"What's he hanging about for?" he snapped. "My pa-
tients don't usually cling to the premises after I've done
with them!"
"Done for them, you mean," countered Constantine
unkindly.
But his eyes were friendly and a little anxious. Daven-
port, he knew, had spent three years of the war in a Ger-
man prison camp and his nerves were none too good. He
was badly rattled now and had a long and troublesome
interview with the police before him. Constantine de-
tached his mind for a moment from the tragedy.
"Got anything to drink in the house?" he asked.
"Yes. I lunch here, you know. Can I get you some-
thing?"
Constantine placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed
him gently in the direction of the stairs.
"Nothing for me, I can think better without it. Get your-
self a stiff drink and take things quietly for a minute or
two. You've time before the police get here."
Davenport hesitated, then ran swiftly up the stairs.
Constantine stood thoughtfully regarding the waiting
room door. The mask had dropped from his face now
and he looked an old man, tired and apprehensive. His
usual clarity of vision had deserted him and his mind was
fumbling. He was trying to remember how long he had
sat by the fire talking to Mrs. Vallon while Sir Richard
was out of the room, trying to recall Sir Richard's face


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
and the tone of his voice when he rejoined them, and all
the time hearing again Davenport's fretful comments:
"What was he hanging about for?" He had known
Richard Pomfrey all his life and the thing was ridiculous
on the face of it, but Constantine had lived long enough
to know that nothing is too absurd to be true. He moved
uncertainly towards the door and found the manservant
at his elbow.
"Is anything the matter, sir?" he asked.
Constantine jerked his thoughts back to the present.
The man looked honest and dependable and, in any case,
he would have to know the truth soon.
"There has been a tragedy, I'm afraid," he said. "Mr.
Davenport's last patient, Mrs. Miller, has died suddenly."
"In the consulting room, sir?"
The man's shocked voice suggested that Mrs. Miller
had taken an unpardonable liberty.
"Unfortunately, yes," answered Constantine. "Mr. Daven-
port has sent for the police. Meanwhile, no one is to go
into that room until they arrive. You had better turn away
any patients who may come. Here is Mr. Davenport. He
will tell you what to say to them."
As Davenport rejoined them the door bell rang. Con-
stantine watched the man open it, caught a glimpse of
blue uniforms on the step outside, and slipped quietly
through the door into the waiting room, closing it behind
him.
Sir Richard Pomfrey was in the act of settling himself
into his overcoat before picking up his hat and gloves
from the table. Perhaps Constantine's perceptions were


26
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
abnormally acute, but it seemed to him that there was a
touch of apprehension in his hasty turn towards the
opening door. Mrs. Vallon was standing by the mantel-
piece, staring down into the fire. She looked up as Con-
stantine entered.
"Hullo," was Sir Richard's greeting. "I'm off. Mrs. Val-
lon has just been accusing you of pinching her appoint-
ment!"
Constantine, watching him closely, came to the conclu-
sion that he had been mistaken. Sir Richard's blue eyes
were as frank and carefree as usual and it was difficult to
believe that he had any premonition of the news that the
old man had determined to be the first to impart. He
realised suddenly that if he intended to forestall the po-
lice it behooved him to get on with his job.
"I'm afraid Mrs. Vallon's appointment is postponed for
the present," he said soberly, his eyes on Sir Richard's
face. But he learned nothing there.
"Why? What's the matter with Davenport?" was his
only comment.
Briefly, and with due regard to Mrs. Vallon's nerves,
Constantine broke the news that Mrs. Miller was dead.
Sir Richard stared at him.
"Dead? Did she die under gas, or what? Poor old
Davenport must be in a state!"
"I'm afraid it wasn't gas," said Constantine deliberately.
"It looks like murder. The police are in the house now."
A gasp from Mrs. Vallon made him turn. At the sight
of her face he hurried towards her, but Sir Richard fore-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
»7
stalled him. His arm round her waist, he drew her gently
towards a chair.
"It's all right," Constantine heard him murmur, as she
sank into it.
She looked up at him and, as she did so, the colour
slowly flooded back into her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she said, with a valiant effort at self-con-
trol. Then her eyes met Constantine's.
"But I don't see . . ." she continued. She paused to col-
lect her thoughts. "Was that the woman who went out
as we came in?" she asked.
Sir Richard nodded.
"Davenport's man came for her," he agreed. "I say, we
must have been sitting here, just next door, when it hap-
pened. Pretty gruesome, what?"
Again that flickering doubt crossed Constantine's mind.
Sir Richard's tone was sympathetic, but that was all. He
showed none of the horrified pity that might be expected
from one who, as Constantine knew, had once been at
least an acquaintance of the dead woman.
Mrs. Vallon covered her eyes for a moment with her
hand.
"How horrible," she whispered. "But how could she
have been killed? Mr. Davenport was with her, surely?
It wasn't. . . ."
Constantine shook his head.
"It wasn't Davenport," he assured her. "He was down-
stairs in his work room. That's the extraordinary part of
it. He couldn't have left her for more than a few min-
utes, but somebody knew and took advantage of his ab-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
sence. When he got back he found her sitting in the
chair, deadl"
Sir Richard was staring at the gloves he held, smooth-
ing them with his hand. It seemed as though realisation
were coming to him slowly.
"Poor soul," he said, at last. "It's a pretty beastly end,
isn't it?"
"You knew her, didn't you?" asked Constantine.
Sir Richard nodded.
"We all knew her in those days," he answered. "She
was one of a crowd. She'd altered a lot, though. I
shouldn't have known her if I'd come on her suddenly. I
fancy that marriage wasn't much of a success."
There was pity in his voice now and Constantine re-
flected with an inward smile that, after all, he was only
acting true to type. His nerves had always been of the
kind that go with beef and muscle and he had never suf-
fered from an over-developed imagination. Mrs. Vallon
was less shock proof.
"It's horrible," she repeated. "Can't we go away? I don't
feel as if I could ever go into that room or sit in that
chair again."
Constantine was about to reply when the door opened.
A police inspector, solid and imperturbable, stood in the
opening.
Sir Richard immediately took charge of the situation.
As a confirmed motorist, he considered that he had ac-
quired a technique in dealing with the police.
"Dr. Constantine has been telling us what has hap-
pened," he said. "This lady, Mrs. Vallon, would like to


30
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
street. He had no intention of allowing his choleric friend
to put himself in the wrong with the police at this stage
of the affair. "I was wondering about the movements of
that rather battered little person I met as I was coming
in," he continued. "Was he here when you arrived?"
Mrs. Vallon looked up quickly, her interest aroused.
"Yes, he was," she answered. "Surely you don't think
he had anything to do with it? He looked such a poor
little creature."
"I was thinking more of the questions we are likely to
be asked," said Constantine. "We may as well get our
facts straight now. What, exactly, did happen?"
"When I arrived? Well, I met Richard in the hall and
we came in here together."
"I'd just come out of the consulting room," put in Sir
Richard grudgingly. "The fellow's appointment was im-
mediately before mine. He came in here, looking pretty
gruesome, a couple of minutes before Davenport sent for
me.
"Who was here when you came back with Mrs. Val-
lon?"
"The little man and a fat woman, smothered with
jewels, who I suppose was Mrs. Miller," answered Mrs.
Vallon.
"Which of them left the room first?"
Mrs. Vallon hesitated, but Sir Richard cut in quickly.
"Mrs. Miller. She went to take her appointment and I
stayed on, keeping Mrs. Vallon company until her turn
came. The little chap went out about ten minutes later."
"How long was that before I arrived?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
31
"Directly, I should think. You must have met him in
the hall."
Sir Richard had a distinct impression that, until Con-
stantine left them to investigate the commotion in the
hall, he and Mrs. Vallon had not had three consecutive
minutes alone together that morning, but it would seem
he was mistaken.
"Oh, no," expostulated Mrs. Vallon. "He left at least
five minutes, nearer ten, I should say, before Dr. Constan-
tine got here. I know, because I had my eye more or less
on the clock. Davenport kept me waiting three quarters
of an hour last time I came and I meant to expostulate
with him if he did it again. You see, I'd sent in word that
my tooth was aching."
Constantine's interest quickened.
"You're sure of that?" he asked sharply.
She nodded.
"Quite."
"And yet I met him on the doorstep when I arrived.
Where was he in the interval?" he said slowly.
"Probably washing his face in the lavatory," suggested
Sir Richard. "The poor little chap was in the deuce of a
mess. Looked as if Davenport had been extracting with a
vengeance."
Constantine turned once more to Mrs. Vallon.
"Have you any idea what time it was when Richard
got back from the telephone?" he asked.
She reflected for a moment. Her eyes met his and he
knew that, though she realised the danger of the question,
she had determined to be frank with him.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
33
He drew him aside and laid the case of Sir Richard
and Mrs. Vallon before him, with the result that, five
minutes later, he was seeing them off from the front
door.
He watched their taxi disappear into the mist, then
made his way back into the house. Arkwright and his
minions were in the consulting room and Constantine, as
he passed the door, felt no desire to join them there. His
course carried him on and through a door situated at the
end of the passage, behind the stairs.
It was ten minutes before he emerged, rubbing a pair
of hands black with grime on a once spotless handker-
chief, satisfaction written on his countenance. He had
cause for elation, for he had almost, if not quite, laid the
spectre that had been haunting him ever since the dis-
covery of the tragedy.
As he crossed the hall Arkwright came out of the tele-
phone box.
"Been ringing up the ambulance," he said. "The pho-
tographer's at work in there now. Nasty mess, isn't it?"
He surveyed Constantine, his lips expanding into a slow
smile.
"Have you got a line on anything, sir?" he asked. "If
you have, it looks rather as if it had taken you up the
chimney!"
Constantine tucked away his handkerchief.
"I hate dirty hands," he said, "and the trouble is that,
as things stand, I can't wash them."
Arkwright looked puzzled, then leaped to his meaning.


34
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"The lavatory!" he exclaimed. "Have you found any-
thing there?"
Constantine led him down the hall and into the lava-
tory. The reason why he had been unable to use the basin
was immediately apparent. The water had been allowed
to run out, but a small, pinkish residue still remained
and there was a smear of blood on the china rim of the
basin. The towel, flung carelessly on a chair, was mottled
with bloodstains.
"Washed his hands here before making his get-away,"
commented Arkwright.
"And this is where he went," added Constantine, as he
crossed to the window and opened it.
Arkwright peered out, then, supporting himself on his
hands, raised himself until he was seated on the sill, his
head outside the window.
"Across the leads and in at the window next door," he
substantiated. "He's left his tracks plainly enough in the
soot. You didn't get out there?"
Constantine eyed him reproachfully.
"At my age?" he answered. "No, those tracks are not
mine. I collected all my soot from the window-sill, which,
by the way, bore no traces except a smear made, I imagine,
by our friend's leg when he climbed out."
Arkwright let himself down into the room.
"I noticed that before I sat on it," he said, with a touch
of amusement. "We'll follow this up. Anything else, sir?"
"A question, first. You've got a list of the patients out
of Davenport, I suppose. Who was the little man whose
appointment was just before Mrs. Miller's?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR 35
Arkwright thrust a grimy hand into his pocket and
produced a note book.
"Name of Cattistock," he read out. "Address, Per-
golese Hotel."


CHAPTER THREE
"That's as far as I have got up to the present," Constan-
tine concluded. Rising to his feet, he produced tobacco
from his pocket and began filling his pipe. Arkwright
extracted a match box and held it out to him.
"You did some useful spade-work before I arrived," he
admitted ungrudgingly. "Funny about that little chap,
Cattistock. It doesn't sound as if he'd got the temperament
or the physique for a job of that sort. And yet Davenport
knows nothing about him, except that he came on the
recommendation of an old patient, the manager of the
hotel he's staying at. From Davenport's account he must
have been feeling genuinely groggy when he came out of
the consulting room. He says he gave him no end of a
gruelling. Doesn't think he'd be fit for much for several
hours to come. In spite of which he hasn't got back to his
hotel yet and they've heard nothing of him."
"He may have been taken ill on his way there," sug-
gested Constantine, hoping devoutly that this was not the
explanation.
His mind had been more at ease since the discovery of
the marks on the leads outside the lavatory window, but
there still remained a persistent pin-prick, that time to be
accounted for when Sir Richard was presumably trying
to get onto his rooms on the telephone. He was hoping it
wasn't pricking Arkwright, too, when, almost as though
36


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
37
he had been following his train of thought, the detective
spoke.
"I shall have to see Mrs. Vallon and Sir Richard Pom-
frey," he said. "Your account satisfies me all right, but I
must get their statements direct. Meanwhile, I'll just
verify the times as I've got them here."
The two men were in Davenport's waiting room. Mrs.
Miller's body had been removed and the consulting room
sealed. Arkwright had taken the statements of the den-
tist, his mechanic and Betts, the manservant, and had
made his way along the leads and in at the window of
the house next door. The house had been standing empty
for some time and everything was thick with dust. This
had been sufficiently displaced to show that someone had
passed through the ground floor room that gave onto the
leads, indeed the window the intruder had used had been
left open. But the tracks were too blurred and indistinct
to show whether the person had been coming or going,
and, beyond verifying the murderer's means of entry or
exit, Arkwright had discovered nothing. The detective
had then adjourned to the dentist's waiting room, where
he and Constantine had been pooling the information
they had gathered.
Arkwright turned to his note book which lay open on
the table.
"According to the dentist," he said, "Cattistock's ap-
pointment was for eleven and he arrived on time. The
next on the list was Sir Richard Pomfrey, and Betts, the
manservant, states that he arrived sometime between


38
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
eleven fifteen and eleven thirty. Sir Richard told you
that he was in the waiting room when Cattistock entered
after the dentist had finished the extractions and that he
left him there when he went to the consulting room.
Betts then showed in Mrs. Miller, whose appointment was
for eleven thirty. He was aware of this and noticed that
she was about ten minutes late, so we may take it that
she arrived about eleven forty. Betts saw Cattistock in the
waiting room when he showed her in. He was also there
when Sir Richard came back with Mrs. Vallon about five
minutes later. Betts, who opened the door to Mrs. Val-
lon, can only give the time approximately, but there is no
reason to think he is far wrong. Immediately after they
had entered, Mrs. Miller went into the consulting room
and, according to what Sir Richard and Mrs. Vallon told
you, Cattistock, some five minutes later, left the waiting
room. Therefore, if we include the dentist, five people
knew that Mrs. Miller was in the consulting room from,
say, approximately, eleven forty-five onwards."
Constantine nodded.
"They knew, certainly," he admitted, "but I can see no
evidence that any of them went prowling on the leads.
Isn't this rather waste of time?"
Arkwright shrugged his shoulders.
"It's ordinary routine work. In nine cases out of ten it .
leads nowhere, and in the tenth it goes all the way.
Where had we got to? Eleven forty-five. From now on-
wards the times become more important and it's a nui-
sance that that ass, Betts, should have taken the oppor-
tunity to stand on the doorstep and gossip with the doc-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
39
tor's man from number thirty-eight just then! He's
created a nice little alibi for himself, but, as a result, he
never saw Cattistock leave the waiting room, nor did he
see Sir Richard when he went to the telephone, though
he noticed him crossing the hall from the telephone box
while they were trying to get the consulting room door
open. He says he was only on the doorstep for ten min-
utes, but I should put it at nearer a quarter of an hour
myself. Anyway, ha vouches for it that no one left the
house, via the front door, until you arrived at twelve and
met Cattistock going out. According to your account,
which tallies with Mr. Davenport's, the times are as fol-
lows. Eleven forty-five, approximately, Mrs. Miller goes
into the consulting room, leaving Sir Richard Pomfrey,
Mrs. Vallon and this man, Cattistock, in the waiting
room; eleven fifty Cattistock leaves the waiting room;
twelve o'clock you arrive, meeting Cattistock on the door-
step, and Sir Richard, immediately afterwards, goes to
the telephone. Meanwhile, Davenport, according to his
account, leaves Mrs. Miller in the consulting room and
goes to his workroom in the basement at a few minutes
to twelve. At twelve five he returns and finds the door
locked, and at twelve ten Sir Richard goes back to the
waiting room. We may therefore take it that the murder
occurred in the short interval between, say, eleven forty-
eight, when the dentist left his patient and twelve five
when he returned and found the door locked. That leaves
the murderer eight minutes in which to do a job which
he timed with amazing exactness."
Constantine glanced at him.


40 MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"Meaning that he must have been on the premises,
waiting his opportunity."
"Precisely. He must, into the bargain, not only have
known the hour of Mrs. Miller's appointment, but been
aware of the nature of the work Davenport was doing
for her, work that would take him to his workroom in
the basement and necessitate his leaving her alone in the
consulting room. So long as Davenport was with her he
could not hope to act."
"That is sound enough," agreed Constantine. "Though,
if it weren't for the knife, one might include the possi-
bility of the crime being unpremeditated and take it that
the man had merely taken advantage of a heaven-sent
opportunity. Where the weapon has been brought in from
outside, however, one may safely go on the assumption
that the thing was planned in advance."
"It was planned all right," Arkwright's tone was grim.
"That overall wasn't Davenport's, you know."
"Do you mean that the murderer brought it with
him?"
"Must have. The moment Davenport got a chance to
examine it he saw that it wasn't a make that had ever
been used in this house. We found a pair of rubber gloves
underneath it. Did you know that? They were badly
stained and don't belong to anyone on the premises. It
was a clever move, that overall, when you come to think
of it. The chap had to get across the hall from the lava-
tory and, with all the precautions in the world, he
couldn't count on no one's seeing him. If Betts had been
in his usual place he would probably have thought noth-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR 41
ing of it if he noticed a man dressed in an overall cross
the hall. It's a sight he's accustomed to and he'd have
taken it for granted that he was Davenport or one of his
assistants and never given him a second glance. That's
the meaning of the overall."
Constantine looked up quickly.
"And Mrs. Miller, seeing a man in an overall come into
the room, would have suspected nothing," he said, in a
hushed voice.
Arkwright nodded.
"Pretty grim, isn't it?" he agreed. "The chances are
that he stood behind her and, bringing his left hand
round from the back, tilted her head back, holding the
knife in his right hand. Until he actually used violence
there would be nothing abnormal in his movements. She
may even have put her head back herself and opened her
mouth as he came towards her. It is quite a common
<hing for patients to do when the dentist approaches
them. By the way, you know the husband's on his way
here?"
"I understood you were sending for him. Does he
know?"
Arkwright looked slightly uncomfortable.
"No, I didn't tell him. He rang up from his office
about twelve fifteen, while Davenport was trying to get
that door open, to ask if his wife had had her appoint-
ment, as he proposed to pick her up in the car. Betts
answered the phone and, being under the impression
that the consulting room was empty, told him she had
gone. Betts is an ass. He admits now that he never saw


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
her leave and that she invariably asked for a taxi if she'd
sent her car away as she did today. Anyway, Mr. Miller
rang off and went round to his club for lunch. We've
only just managed to trace him. He thinks his wife is ill
and is on his way to fetch her."
Constantine frowned.
"And what, may I enquire, is the idea?" he asked. "The
thing seems to my unsophisticated brain unnecessarily
heartless."
Arkwright gave him a meaning look.
"There's been a certain amount of gossip about the
Millers, I'm thinking," he said. "What have you heard,
sir?"
"Nothing definite against either of them, though they
were hardly an attractive couple, by all accounts. I've
known her by sight for a long time, but I've never seen
the husband. I've always understood that he was a rich
jeweller and, I believe, has quite a good name in Hatton
Garden. She was Lottie Belmer, an undistinguished orna-
ment of the musical comedy stage, before she married
him. Rumour has it that they were a rather ill-assorted
pair."
"That tallies with my information," agreed Arkwright,
"and I can add to it, owing to a rather curious coin-
cidence. I was going through our files the other day with
reference to a burglary in North London and I came
across Miller's name. He landed in England from Cape
Town in nineteen twenty-six, when we received a warn-
ing from the Cape Town police to keep an eye on him.
It appears that he had been arrested there as a receiver of


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
43
stolen goods but was discharged owing to lack of evi-
dence. The stuff was traced to his manager, who was con-
victed, but there was no actual proof that Miller was
aware of what was going on. We acted on the informa-
tion received, but found no cause for suspicion. All the
same, at the risk of seeming heartless, I'd prefer to spring
this on him, before he has time to collect his thoughts.
We're looking for a motive and he may be in a position
to help us."
"You're sure nothing was taken?"
Arkwright shrugged his shoulders.
"How can we be? She was literally covered with stones,
all of them valuable, but something may have been taken.
That's one of the things her husband ought to be able
to tell us. Do you want to be present at the interview,
sir? He should be here at any moment now."
Constantine glared at him.
"I don't. I detest your inhuman methods."
Arkwright's smile was disarming.
"But you won't disdain to profit by them," he sug-
gested. "I confess I should like to report to you and hear
your opinion."
Constantine rose to his feet.
"I dine at eight," he said, with a severity that was not
very convincing. "At the Club. You will find me at our
usual table."
"If I can get away, sir," answered Arkwright.
As he was about to leave Constantine made a sugges-
tion. His tone was casual, but there was an impish gleam
in his eyes.


44
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"You might take this opportunity of finding out
whether the Millers have any connection with China or
America," he murmured thoughtfully.
Arkwright permitted himself a chuckle of pure glee.
"I wondered whether you'd be able to resist that, sir,"
he retorted. "It was I who brought Meekins to see you,
you remember and I was there when he showed you the
knife."
Constantine, who was never slow to appreciate a joke
at his own expense, laughed.
"I might have guessed you'd notice the resemblance,"
he said. "Of course I haven't handled it and, in any case,
my knowledge of such things is negligible, but the knife
we found beside Mrs. Miller's body looks uncommonly
like the one Meekins got from that Chinese knife-man in
San Francisco."
Arkwright nodded.
"We shall know soon enough," he answered. "By this
time it will be in the hands of our man at the Yard. I'll
report to you this evening."
The fog was still thick enough to delay locomotion and
it was past eight when Arkwright arrived at the small,
bohemian club at which Constantine entertained those of
his friends capable of appreciating the efforts of one of
the best chefs in London. He had put up Arkwright for
it soon after their first meeting at The Noah's Ark and
the detective had fallen into the habit of dining there
whenever he could get away early enough from the
Yard.* Constantine was awaiting him and brushed away
# See The Crime at the Noah's Ark by Molly McGuire.


46
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"Any news of Cattistock?"
Arkwright cast a significant glance in his direction.
"None," he said shortly.
"None? Do you mean to say that the man has never
reached his hotel? Why, he was hardly fit to be about
when I saw him!"
"All the same, he's vanished. They've neither seen nor
heard anything of him since he left the hotel to go to the
dentist in the morning. His luggage is there, unpacked,
and he said nothing to them about leaving. The hospitals
and police stations have been canvassed, but, so far, there's
no trace of his having met with any kind of accident."
"Did you dig up anything about him?"
"Very little. I've just been down there myself, inter-
viewing the manager of the hotel, but I got very little
more than he had told our man earlier in the day. Catti-
stock arrived on November the twelfth, two days ago.
Last night he asked the manager if he could recommend
a good dentist, mentioning that he had spent the greater
part of his life abroad and was now living in the coun-
try and that the man he had been to there was not satis-
factory. The manager, who describes him as a quiet,
rather serious gentleman, very pleasant in his manner,
gave him the name of his own dentist, Davenport. Says
he believes he rang him up early next morning and made
an appointment. This tallies with Davenport's account.
Beyond that, nothing is known of him."
"He didn't mention in what part of the country he was
living."
"No. I questioned all the likely and unlikely people.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
47
His luggage consists of a couple of suitcases, unlabelled,
and, if he wrote any letters, he posted them himself."
"What about his clothes?"
"We ran into a blind alley there. There were three
suits, all from the same tailor, an old-established, inex-
pensive firm in the city, and, on enquiry, we found that
they were made for him about a year ago and sent to
the Euston Hotel, where he was staying at the time. The
tailors were given the impression that he had only just ar-
rived in England, but, beyond the fact that he paid his
bill promptly, they know nothing about him. His shirts
and underclothes bear various manufacturers' labels and
are all well known lines that are turned out by the thou-
sand. The same may be said of his socks, ties, gloves, etc.,
and the three pairs of ready-made shoes we found. Any
papers he possessed, he must have carried on him."
"No books? A man usually reads something in the
train or in bed."
"A pocket Bible by his bed, with the name 'Cattistock'
scrawled in pencil inside the cover, and a cheap reprint
of 'Esmond' on the writing table. He has covered his
tracks pretty thoroughly."
"But not necessarily purposely," pointed out Constan-
tine. "In these days of ready-made clothing there is noth-
ing unusual in such an outfit. It's only what you would
find in nine out of ten of the rooms in an inexpensive
hotel. So much for Cattistock. Anything further?"
"There's Davenport, of course. But I confess I find it
difficult to imagine why an old-established and eminently
respectable dental surgeon should cut the throat of one


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
of his most profitable patients! Apart from the fact that
he did it in the way most calculated to draw attention to
himself!"
"The wiliest of all the devices employed by criminals in
fiction, you must remember," Constantine reminded him
wickedly. "'No murderer would be such an ass as that,'
boomed Inspector Muttonhead, rolling his little pig's eyes,
etc., etc. Congratulations, Arkwright, you did it beauti-
fully!"
Arkwright chuckled, but his face grew a shade redder.
"Oh, I'm not disregarding him, by any means," he as-
serted, "but you must admit that though it comes off all
right in books it's a fairly dangerous game to play in
real life! Still, he undoubtedly had the time and the op-
portunity."
"To which, in my role of gifted amateur, I am pre-
pared to add that Davenport, to my knowledge, is the
last man in the world to cut one of his patient's throats
for any reason whatsoever. I've even known him to ex-
hibit genuine compunction when he hurt me, which
shows an almost mawkish sentimentality on the part of a
dentist. I haven't got the official mind so I'm quite ready
to give him a clean bill of health."
"If I could do the same I should no doubt save myself
any amount of time and trouble," admitted Arkwright
ruefully. "Failing Davenport, there remain Mrs. Vallon
and Sir Richard Pomfrey. I took their statements this
afternoon."
"If Mrs. Vallon is a suspect, so am I," retorted Constan-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
49
tine. "I was with her from twelve o'clock until after the
discovery of the locked door."
"All the same, if my times are correct, Davenport left
Mrs. Miller three or four minutes before you arrived,"
Arkwright reminded him, with mock solemnity.
"Do you suggest that, in the course of those four min-
utes, Mrs. Vallon, with incredible swiftness, dressed her-
self in an overall, which she was no doubt carrying in
her very small hand bag, dashed into the consulting room,
killed Mrs. Miller, whom she did not even know by
sight, removed the overall and returned to her seat by
the fire? And all this unperceived by Richard Pomfrey?"
Arkwright's guffaw so startled an old gentleman at the
next table that he swallowed his soup the wrong way and
spent the rest of the meal in endeavouring to wither the
detective with a streaming and indignant eye.
"I'll grant you Mrs. Vallon," conceded the delinquent.
"After all, as you point out, her alibi is practically as
good as your own. But you can't say the same for Sir
Richard Pomfrey. From twelve o'clock till twelve ten, he
was out of the waiting room. Betts was on the doorstep,
gossiping, and no one can check Sir Richard's move-
ments during that ten minutes."
"The telephone call?"
"The call to Sir Richard's rooms was put through,
we've traced it," admitted Arkwright, "but he only said
a couple of words to his man. As for the delay he com-
plained of, such a thing cannot occur in the annals of
the telephone service! We never expected to trace that!


5°
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
He could have committed the murder and still have had
time to telephone on his way back to the waiting room."
"It would leave him very little margin," objected Con-
stantine.
"Whoever did the thing had very little margin," re-
torted Arkwright. "Come to that, the actual stabbing
would only have taken a second."
"And the motive?"
Constantine was fighting a losing battle and he knew it.
Arkwright eyed him narrowly.
"Did you know, sir, that Sir Richard saw a good deal of
Mrs. Miller when she was Lottie Belmer?" he asked.
"I knew that he frequented the set she moved in and,
I believe, was acquainted with her, but this was a very
long time ago. I'm sure he never knew her in any inti-
mate sense and he told me he had seen nothing of her for
years."
"He told me that, too. But he admits that they were
acquainted in the past."
"Which seems hardly a motive for killing her now,"
retorted Constantine. "I never moved in that set myself.
My wild oats were sown years before and I have even
forgotten most of the current gossip, but I do remember
that Sir Richard's name was associated with a very dif-
ferent lady, one of the principals at the Pagoda, and that,
at the time, Lottie Belmer was definitely supposed to be
the property of someone else whose name I can't recall.
Sir Richard's affair ended with the marriage of the lady
in question and it is years since his name has been con-
nected in any way with the Pagoda girls."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
5i
"That was in Arthur Vallon's day, I suppose?" said Ark-
wright.
Constantine nodded.
"Vallon owned the theatre in those days," he answered.
"Rightly or wrongly his name was coupled with several
girls in succession. I can't remember whether Lottie Bel-
mer was one of them. Of one thing I can assure you. She
was never, at any time, of the type to appeal to Richard
Pomfrey, even in his most callow days."
Arkwright glanced at him.
"You're sure you're not a bit prejudiced in his favour?"
he queried demurely.
Constantine's eyes blazed suddenly.
"Of course I'm prejudiced," he snapped, with a little
burst of temper. "His father was one of my oldest friends
and I've known Richard all his life. He might kill a man
with his fists, in a moment of temper, but he's incapable
of cutting a dog's throat, much less that of a human being!"
"As his father's friend you would say that even if you
didn't think it," Arkwright reminded him.
"I've no doubt I should," admitted the old man, "but
the point is that, in this instance, I believe it."
"Well, I'm keeping an open mind," said Arkwright.
"We don't even know yet whether robbery wasn't the
motive. This man, Cattistock, was with her in the wait-
ing room and no doubt had a good look at all that stuff
she was wearing, and Cattistock's missing. That's all to
the good from your friend Sir Richard's point of view."
It was late when they finished dinner and Arkwright


5"
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
had only time for coffee and a cigar before leaving to
keep his appointment with Charles Miller.
The jeweller's house was in one of those decorously
opulent Squares that lie between Piccadilly and Oxford
Street. Arkwright was to learn later that Miller, who
dabbled in house property, had bought it as a speculation
from the executors of a deceased law lord and had only
decided to live in it owing to his wife's insistence. A
butler, flanked by a spectacular footman, opened the door,
but, in spite of the pomp and circumstance with which
he was ushered into the library, there was a lack of polish
about both servants that made Arkwright suspect that
their wages were not on a par with the footman's ornate
livery.
Miller was taking his ease in a huge leather-covered
armchair by the fire. He waved his cigar in the direction
of a formidable pile of letters on the writing table.
"See that those are taken to the post," he said to the
butler. Then, with a glance at the hideous marble clock
on the mantelpiece: "Take a seat, Inspector. I have to
meet the boat train at Victoria, but I can give you twenty
minutes."
As he sat down Arkwright took stock of the jeweller
for the second time that day and liked him even less
than when he had first met him. Under the first stag-
gering shock of his bereavement he had achieved a cer-
tain dignity and it had been difficult not to feel sorry
for him. Now, in the ugly, over-furnished room into
which he fitted so admirably, he had become a definitely
unpleasing object. The small, cunning eyes, watchful be-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
53
hind the thick lenses of his glasses, the long, predatory
nose, drooping over moist, fleshy lips that showed deeply
red against the dry, yellow skin of his heavily lined face,
and the white, gesticulative hands marked him as the
type of man who is distrusted by his business associates
and loathed by his dependants. Without rising from his
chair he craned towards a table and picked up a sheet
of paper.
"Here is a list of the jewellery my poor wife was wear-
ing," he said, in a voice so unexpectedly soft and mellow
that, coming from so inharmonious a personality, it
startled, rather than attracted those hearing it for the
first time. "My secretary typed it at the dictation of her
maid. As the things are still in your possession I cannot
check it."
His English was perfect, but he spoke with a precision
that betrayed his foreign origin.
Arkwright took the list and studied it, stroking his
chin with his large, capable fingers. At one point his eyes
narrowed, but he went stolidly on to the end. Then he
looked up.
"You told the servants to be on hand, as I requested?"
he demanded.
Miller stared at him.
"Certainly," he said. "But I can vouch for the correct-
ness of that list. My wife's maid was positive as to the
things she was wearing."
Arkwright gathered himself to his feet.
"All the same, I should like to see her," he said slowly.


54
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"Unless she has made a mistake, Mrs. Miller's jewels are
intact, with the exception of one piece."
Miller snatched the cigar from his mouth and leaned
forward eagerly.
"Then it was robbery," he exclaimed, his voice quiver-
ing with excitement. "I knew it! What has been taken?"
Arkwright consulted the list once more.
"A platinum chain with a small diamond and emerald
clasp," he read out, "supporting a large oval emerald in
a platinum and diamond setting."


CHAPTER
FOUR
Arkwright was standing before the grate in a small room
opening off the hall in Miller's house. The office desk,
typewriting table and filing cabinet proclaimed it for
what it was, the lair of Miller's secretary. A bright fire
burned in the grate and a large leather covered armchair
was drawn up to the hearth. Altogether the room ex-
hibited more comfort than Arkwright would have ex-
pected the little chap to bestow upon a dependant, though
the extremely capable looking individual who had been
at work there when Miller's butler ushered him into the
room had struck him as unlikely to stay long in any
situation that did not please him. Arkwright, in the
course of the few words he had exchanged with him be-
fore he gathered up his papers and left the room, had
summed him up as belonging to the ruthlessly efficient
type, which uses a secretaryship merely as a stepping-
stone to something more ambitious. He was of a very
different class, mentally and physically, from his employer
who, when Arkwright left the library, was already en-
gaged in drafting a letter to the Company with which he
had insured his wife's jewels.
"If you wish to conduct your inquiry in private, the
secretary's room is at your disposal," he had vouchsafed,
as he unscrewed the cap of an enormous fountain pen.
"I have to go out myself, in any case."
55


56
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Arkwright's interview with Mrs. Miller's maid had
proved more entertaining than instructive. Instead of the
rather flashy foreign soubrette he had expected to see he
had been confronted with an amazing and bedizened
lady of uncertain age, whose garrulous speech betrayed
her Cockney origin and who informed him that her name
was Mrs. Snipe; that she had been "Miss Lottie's" dresser
before she married and that he need only ask any of the
stage hands at the Pagoda if they remembered "Snipey"
to receive an unsolicited testimonial as to her many ster-
ling qualities both as friend and employee. Arkwright
let her talk, knowing from experience the pearls that
may be garnered from just such meaningless outpourings,
and learned that she had loved and cherished Miss Lottie
more than life itself and that: "Where her poor lamb
would have been without her, that husband of hers
grudging her every penny as he did, she did not know.
Time after time as she'd had to sit up all night with the
poor lamb after one of them bills had come in and she
wouldn't forget the fuss there was over that there emerald
pendant, not if she lived to be a hundred. As if her pore
lamb couldn't have had a dozen like it and better, in the
days before she tied herself to a stinking little miser!"
At this point, seeing that Mrs. Snipe was beginning to
grow incoherent in her excitement, Arkwright brought
her firmly back to the matter in hand. As regards the
pendant, she was unshakable. Her mistress had been
wearing it when she left the house to go to the dentist's.
There had even been some argument over it as, according


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
57
to Mrs. Snipe, the clasp was notoriously unsafe and she
had been trying to get her mistress to have it seen to for
some time. But Miss Lottie was that fond of that pendant
that she couldn't bear it out of her sight, not even for a
day or two. Arkwright, with the skill born of long prac-
tice, stemmed the flood of eloquence once more and elic-
ited the information that Miss Lottie, bless her dear
heart, hadn't never had no enemies. How could anyone
wish her any harm? As for that Miller, she couldn't say.
If it had been him as had been killed now!
With some difficulty Arkwright shepherded her tact-
fully out of the room and sent for the butler. From him
he got a comprehensive account of the movements of the
household that morning.
Mr. Miller had gone to Hatton Garden as usual at
nine thirty and Mrs. Miller had left the house at eleven
thirty. He was positive as to the time because he had
given the order to the chauffeur for that hour. Immediately
afterwards Mr. Bloomfield, the secretary, had gone into
the Square with the Pekinese dog, an animal, Arkwright
gathered, cordially detested by the household staff. He
had remained in the Square until shortly after twelve
fifteen, when he had returned to the house. The servants
had been in the house all the morning. As a matter of
routine Miller's movements had already been checked
earlier in the day. He had undoubtedly been at his office
at the time of the murder and had rung up Davenport's
house from there, in the presence of his typist. Before
leaving Arkwright telephoned to the Yard, only to find


58
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
that nothing had yet been heard of Cattistock. If he had
collapsed in the street it seemed fairly certain by now that
he had not been taken to any of the London hospitals and
it was beginning to look more and more as if his disap-
pearance was voluntary. Having given instructions for
the circularisation of the description of the missing pen-
dant, Arkwright groped his way through the fog to bed.
But, in the meantime, as though gathering a speedy
harvest before the stifling grey blanket of the fog lifted,
murder had stalked once more through the streets of
London.
Big Ben had just boomed the half hour. High above
Parliament Square the hands of the clock showed half
past ten, but, owing to the shrouding mist, they were in-
visible to the few misguided pedestrians who groped their
way below. The chime, curiously dead and muffled, reached
the ears of the constable on patrol as he turned into Ec-
cleston Square. It was so faint that, had he not been ex-
ceptionally keen of hearing, he would have missed the
familiar sound altogether. As it was, he halted to listen,
rubbing his hand across his stinging eyes, then resumed
his monotonous beat, past the interminable, cavernous
porticoes, each with its stretch of area railing, that loomed,
grey and mysterious, through the fog. The light of his
bull's-eye lantern, flickering like some absurd and inade-
quate will o' the wisp on locks and window catches,
marked his progress and he was half-way down the south-
east side of the Square before anything occurred to break
the dreary monotony of his vigil.
And then it was only the sight of a woman, a tramp or


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
59
flower seller, probably, sitting huddled on the steps under
one of porticoes, that arrested his attention. Pimlico fringes
the borders of a much less reputable neighbourhood and
it was no uncommon occurrence for drunks to stray into
its squares and dream their happy dreams on its prim,
Victorian doorsteps.
The constable bent over the sleeping woman. She was
sitting, crouched together, her knees drawn up and her
head bowed over her folded arms, obviously deep in obliv-
ion. He placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Wake up, mother," he said. "You'll have to move on
from 'ere, you know."
There was no response from the huddled figure and the
constable, straightening his back, turned the light of his
lantern more fully on it.
"Foxing," he reflected ponderously, "or so blind to the
world that it'll be a case for the ambulance."
Then, as he stared at her, a doubt began to assail him.
Women's fashions were beyond his ken, but there was
something about the shape and texture of the neat black
hat, tilted awry though it was on the bowed head, that
did not fit well with his conception of a drunken drab.
There was fur, too, on the collar of the dark coat, and
expensive fur at that. Some old lady, perhaps, overcome
with the fog on her way home. It behooved him to go
carefully.
He leaned over once more, keeping the light of his
lantern focussed.
"Anything wrong, mum?" he demanded, giving the
shoulder he held a gentle shake.


$0
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
The cloth of the coat slid from under his hand as the
figure toppled woodenly towards him. The shoulders hit
the steps with a soft thud, then slithered down them al-
most onto his feet. As the woman fell her hands dropped
apart, dragging inertly from step to step.
He saw the hands first, red and glistening with blood,
before his eyes fell on the gash in the upturned throat.
At midnight the fog lifted and, some twenty minutes
later, a body of silent men filed through the gate into
Eccleston Square and, for the next three quarters of an
hour, spear points of light darted and probed among the
bushes behind the railings. At the sound of a low call the
dark figures foregathered, there was a whispered consul-
tation and they slipped out as quietly as they had come in.
They had found what they were searching for.
At nine thirty next morning Superintendent Thurston,
his stocky figure jammed into a chair that looked at least
a size too small for it, leaned forward and touched a
button on his desk. He waited, impatiently fingering his
grizzled moustache, until the door opened to admit Ark-
wright.
"Morning," snapped Thurston. His speech was invariably
limited to the smallest possible quantity of words, released
grudgingly from his mouth as though each one was a very
small mouse escaping from a capacious trap. "Interested in
this?"
He jerked his head towards an object on his desk. At
the sight of it Arkwright's eyes snapped.
"That's not the Miller knife, sir!" he exclaimed.
"How d'you know that?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
61
Thurston had a grim, subterraneous humour of his own
which he gratified occasionally by baiting his subordinates.
"There's a nick out of the blade of the other, but this
one's the very spit of it. Where did it come from, sir?"
"Found early this morning in Eccleston Square."
"Eccleston Square?" said Arkwright slowly. "That's a
far cry from Illbeck Street, but it's possible that our chap
had got a pair of them and didn't dare keep the second one."
The Super snorted.
"Kept it all right and used it. Woman found stabbed
on doorstep."
Arkwright fell headlong into the trap.
"Not with this knife, sir!"
Thurston's chair creaked as he jerked himself forward
and glared at Arkwright with truculent grey eyes.
"Found at two o'clock. Expert's seen it, been dusted for
prints, blood test taken, photographed and washed! That's
why it's clean. Can you say as much for the Miller exhibit?"
Arkwright flushed.
"That's the trouble, sir," he said. "It is an exhibit, and I
treated it as such. We shall need it at the trial."
Thurston froze him with a glance.
"If there is a trial," he barked contemptuously. "Slip-
shod methods! Blade coated with congealed blood, I sup-
pose. If I hadn't been down with flu this wouldn't have
happened."
Arkwright controlled his feelings and preserved a respect-
ful silence. He had had flu not so long ago himself and
recognised the inevitable after effects.
Thurston made a long arm and turned the knife over


6a
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
so that the other side of the blade lay uppermost. Then he
jammed himself back in his chair and turned a sardonic,
parrot-like eye on Arkwright.
Arkwright bent over the table and caught his breath.
High upon the blade, close to the shaft, was a series of
marks, roughly resembling letters, and, underneath them,
unmistakably, a number: 620.
In answer to a nod from Thurston he picked the knife
up and carried it to the window. The scratches showed
clearly enough now.
"Amateur work," he said slowly. "The chap did that
himself and didn't take much trouble over it. Looks more
like English than Chinese. What does Grierson say, sir?"
"It's got Grierson beat, so you can take it it's not Chinese."
"The numeral's English, right enough," went on Ark-
wright, "and the first, second and fifth letters might stand
roughly for M. A. and H. The fourth might be another at-
tempt at H., but the third might mean anything."
The Super grunted.
"Try t'other way up," he growled.
Arkwright reversed the blade until the handle was
towards him. The third letter now showed plainly enough
as U.
"M.A.U.H.H.," he said. "With the U. upside down.
That's not very helpful."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Thurston, who had been filling a peculiarly foul pipe,
proceeded to light it.
"Neither are you," he mumbled, between puffs. "Get the
Miller knife exhibit cleaned up and let me see it."
The Miller exhibit provided another bitter pill for Ark-
wright's palate, though he knew that, in leaving the weapon
untouched, he had only followed the usual routine in such
cases. In view of Thurston's jaundiced state of mind it
was unfortunate that, when washed, the blade should be
discovered to have been scratched in exactly the same way
as that of the knife found in Eccleston Square. The letter-
ing was, if anything, clearer, the only difference being in
the numeral, which showed up distinctly as 300.
Taking the inscriptions into account it was impossible
to ignore the probable connection between the two crimes
and Arkwright spent the greater part of the morning gath-
ering what data there was from the inspector in charge of
the case.
"Haven't been able to identify the woman yet, sir," was
his discouraging report, "and it's not going to be easy. A
foreigner, I should put her down as, and you know what
those little lodging houses are Vauxhall Bridge Road way.
Swarming with Frenchies and Italians, a lot of them with-
out any friends or relations on this side of the Channel, and,
if one goes missing once in a way, the landlady knows bet-
ter than to report to us. Just hangs onto the luggage for
six months or so and then bones it. The woman hadn't a
pocket in her coat and her hand bag's missing. No papers,
no money, nothingl There's the name of a Paris boot


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
maker, Dufour, in her .shoes and there's a chemise that
comes from The Louvre. That's all we've got to go on."
"How long had she been dead?"
"Over an hour, the surgeon says. She wasn't there at
seven thirty, because the owner of the house went up the
steps and let himself in then."
"Whom does the house belong to?"
The inspector grinned.
"Mr. Justice Farrer. I reckon we can rule him out. I've
passed the tape over the household, but everything seems
straightforward. The only person that saw her is a tele-
graph boy. He had a wire for a house two doors away and
he noticed her sitting there as he passed, but, having no
occasion to climb the steps, he didn't bother about her. He
puts the time at round about eight o'clock."
"Which places the murder as having taken place between
seven thirty and eight. That narrows it down a lot. Did
the surgeon say anything about the wound?"
"He said as like as not it was done from behind. Who-
ever did it knew his job. Nearly took her head off. If the
neck hadn't been muffled round with a shawl, that boy
would have spotted the blood all right. As it was, there
wasn't anything to show till the constable moved her."
"Sure there's nothing more in that shrubbery? The mur-
derer may have chucked away her bag when he got rid of
the knife."
The inspector shook his head.
"We've been over every inch of the whole Square. Tried
the drains, too, round about, but there's nothing. I hear
you're taking over, Sir?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Arkwright sighed.
"I've got to. If there isn't some connection between this
and the Miller business I'll eat my hat, but I can't see
where the link lies. I'll go over to the mortuary now and
see you later. Had many visitors there?"
"A good few. Mostly foreigners whose relations have
gone missing, but no one that's ever seen her before. From
the look of her I should say she's a bit better class than most
of the people that have called, but it's difficult to tell now-
adays."
Arkwright, in all the years of his service, had never
been able to accustom himself to the mortuary. Today, the
pitiful figure of the murdered woman, lying unknown and
friendless on the marble slab, seemed to make the dreary
sordidness of the place even more apparent.
As he took stock of the waxen face upturned to his he
endorsed most of the inspector's comments. A white cloth
had been folded and laid under the woman's chin, so that
the cause of death was not apparent, and her face wore
that enigmatic smile that is usually associated with a peace-
ful end. Her features had been handsome once, but trouble
or illness had sharpened them and drawn deep lines about
the mouth and round the eyes. Arkwright put her age at
about forty-five, but realised that, had life proved hard,
she might easily be younger. He examined the hands,
smooth skinned and well cared for, with long, highly pol-
ished nails, and agreed with the inspector that she did not
belong to the working classes. On one point, however, he
differed from his subordinate. In spite of the marks on her
clothing and the nails, cut into the sharp point so beloved


66
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
of the foreign manicure, he had a strong suspicion that
she was English, or, at any rate, Nordic, by birth. Her
good looks had been of the milkmaid type, rarely if ever
seen in any of the Latin countries, and her hair, though
faded to a dull yellow and streaked with grey, was abun-
dant and gave signs of having once been beautiful. Ark-
wright, who had crossed the Channel many times in the
course of his service, knew that only one French woman in
a thousand is so dowered.
He wrote "Dane or Swede, possibly an Englishwoman,"
in his note book and turned to her clothes, which lay neatly
folded by her side. These confirmed his conviction that she
was no working woman. Though not expensive, each item
was well cut and of good material and showed a taste that
even Arkwright's male eye could appreciate. The only
labels on them were those of The Louvre and the boot-
maker, Dufour, the shoes being, incidentally, exceptionally
smart and expensive. "The shawl" which the Inspector had
alluded to and which had been wrapped round her throat
and upper part of her body to stem the flow of blood, turned
out to be a plaid travelling rug and Arkwright's first step,
on returning to the Yard, was to send a man to Victoria,
on the chance that a porter might be able to identify her
as one of the arrivals on the boat train. His next action was
to ring up Miller's house.
Mr. Miller was at lunch, but, on hearing Arkwright's
name, he came to the telephone.
"You have some news about the emerald?" he demanded.
"I'm afraid not," was Arkwright's answer, "but there


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
67
has been an unexpected development. If you could give
us a few minutes of your time here we should be grateful."
"You wish me to come to you?"
"At New Scotland Yard. Yes. If you will name your own
time, I shall be waiting for you."
There was a pause, then:
"It is not convenient, but, if you think it necessary, I
will come at once. As soon as I have finished my lunch. In
three quarters of an hour I will be with you."
He was better than his word and was ten minutes before
his time when he was shown into Arkwright's room.
As Arkwright rose to greet him, he found himself won-
dering whether he had not been doing him an injustice
after all. Judging by his looks he was feeling his wife's
death more deeply than had seemed possible the day be-
fore. His face was grey now, rather than sallow, and his
shoulders sagged as though the mere action of walking
was an effort. The man had aged ten years in a single
night.
"This is very good of you, Mr. Miller," he said, drawing
a chair out on the opposite side of the big office table.
Miller threw his hands out.
"Anything I can do to help," he intoned, in that surpris-
ingly sonorous voice.
Arkwright sat down opposite to him, opened a drawer
and took out the two knives. His eyes on the other man's
face, he placed them on the table in front of him.
Miller's mouth twitched. He tried to speak, failed and
swallowed convulsively. Then he mastered himself.


68
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR.
"Two knives?" he ejaculated. "But there was only
M
one. . .
"I'll tell you about the other in a minute, Mr. Miller,"
said Arkwright. "What I want you to look at is the inscrip-
tion on them."
Miller peered at the blades, removed his glasses, slowly
took a case from his pocket, extracted a second pair of
horn-rimmed spectacles and adjusted them on his nose.
Arkwright, watching him closely, noticed that his hands
were not quite steady and wondered whether he were not
playing for time.
"May one pick them up?" asked Miller.
"Certainly."
Miller pored over the inscriptions, compared them with
each other, then laid the knives down on the table with a
little shake of his head.
"The numbers are quite clear," he said, "but these signs,
what are they? They do not look like Chinese."
"You don't recognise them as Chinese symbols?" en-
quired Arkwright blandly.
Miller shrugged his shoulders.
"I should not recognise them if they were," he pointed
out. "As I told you, I know nothing of Chinese writing."
Arkwright sighed.
"I was in hopes you might be able to help us," he said.
"You don't recognise them as belonging to any language
you do know?"
Miller shook his head.
"I have never seen anything like them," he asserted. "It


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
69
is curious about the numbers, though, of course, almost
every nation in the world uses those numerals."
He hesitated, then:
"I remember you showed me the knife that was found
beside my poor wife. Is it one of these?"
His voice broke on the words and he seemed genuinely
affected.
Arkwright picked up one of the knives.
"This one," he said. "I'm sorry if this has been painful,
Mr. Miller, but the inscriptions escaped our notice in the
first instance and I had to make sure that they conveyed
nothing to you. I suppose nothing has occurred to you in
the interval that might have some bearing on the crime?"
Miller, who was replacing his glasses in the case, raised
his head and met Arkwright's gaze with the utmost can-
dour.
"Nothing, I regret to say," he asserted positively. "It is
all a mystery to me. Is there anything else?"
"I'm sorry, but there's just one more thing I must ask
you to do, rather an unpleasant one. I have not told you
yet where we got the second of these knives."
Briefly he described the finding of the woman's body and
the discovery of the weapon. Miller's expression, when he
had finished, was one of pure amazement.
"But the whole thing is meaningless!" he exclaimed.
"First my poor wife, then this woman, who can have no
connection whatever with us. And yet, judging by the
weapons, there must be some link between the two crimes.
In my wife's case, I feel convinced that the motive was one
of robbery, but this other was not a rich woman, you say?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"In so far as one can judge, she was not, but it is difficult
to say what she may have had on her. Everything was taken
by the murderer."
Miller hesitated.
"You wish me to look at this woman?" he suggested
unwillingly.
"I'm afraid so. Owing to the possible connection between
the two crimes we must make sure that she was not known
to you. Simply a matter of form, you understand."
Miller nodded.
"It is very unpleasant to me," he said, "but I see that it
is necessary. Can we go now? I have a busy afternoon be-
fore me."
"By the way," remarked Arkwright, as he rose to accom-
pany him, "you told me you were meeting a friend by the
boat train last night. Was it very crowded?"
Miller glanced at him in surprise.
"There were a good many people. It was troublesome,
as my friend did not come and I had to see them all off the
platform before I was sure I had not missed her."
Arkwright turned sharply.
"You were expecting a lady?"
"An old friend of my wife's," Miller explained. "It was
all a little awkward for me. You see, my wife had invited
this lady to stay with us while she was in London and, in
my trouble yesterday morning, I forgot all about her.
When I did remember, it seemed best to meet her and
explain the circumstances to her. It was a relief to me when
she did not turn up."
"Had she mentioned that train specifically?"
I -.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
71
"Certainly. She said she was coming by it. I have her
letter at home. But it would not surprise me if she had
changed her plans. She is an actress and was a friend of
my wife's when she was on the stage, and, like all ar-
tistes, she is probably temperamental."
An idea struck him.
"You think this poor woman who was murdered may
have come by that train," he exclaimed. "If she did and if,
by some chance, I did miss my friend, it is possible she left
the station alone. You are right. I must make sure that I
do not know her."
"She was killed over an hour before that train got into
the station," said Arkwright. "But, of course, there is a
possibility that your friend changed her plans and crossed
earlier."
He led the way down the stairs. On the road to the
mortuary Miller's excitement grew as he discussed the
possibility of his guest's having altered her arrangements,
and by the time they got there he was already convinced
that yet another appalling tragedy had come into his life.
"Why should these things happen to me?" he almost
wailed. "Neither my wife nor myself have ever wished
anyone any harm. It is as if a curse had come upon us."
Arkwright stared at him in surprise. This was a very
different person to the pompous, rather rapacious indi-
vidual he had interviewed the night before. At the door of
the mortuary Miller paused.
"What a horrible place," he muttered, and again Ark-
wright had a feeling that he was trying to gain time. Then,
suddenly, as though he had decided to get the thing over,


72
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
he straightened his shoulders and walked ahead of his
companion into the room.
"I have never seen her before," he announced, as soon
as his eyes fell on the woman. "My God, what a relief!"
He pulled out a voluminous handkerchief and passed it
over his forehead. Arkwright noticed with a certain grim
amusement that the linen was none too clean.
"No doubt you'll hear from your friend tomorrow," he
said reassuringly. "These convey nothing to you, I sup-
pose?"
He indicated the neatly folded pile of clothing. Miller
regarded the blood-stained rug with aversion.
"Thank goodness, no," he asserted with conviction, as he
turned and made hurriedly for the door.
Arkwright saw him to his car and was on his way back
to his room at the Yard when he was stopped by a constable
with the news that a Mrs. Snipe had been enquiring for
him.
His surprise was not unmixed with satisfaction. From the
first he had hoped he might cull something useful from the
garrulous dresser.
"Is she here now?" he asked.
"Waiting, sir."
At the sight of him she leaped to her feet, a dark flush
looming through the crude make-up on her face.
"I've just seen the account in the papers," she panted.
"Is it true that Sir Richard Pomfrey was in that house
when my poor lamb was murdered?"
"He was in the waiting room," said Arkwright. "Why do
you ask?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
73
"Because he was the only one there that knew Miss Lot-
tie in the old days. You ask him if he didn't!"
Arkwright figured his chin thoughtfully.
"But it doesn't follow that he meant her any harm," he
objected, hoping that opposition would only incite her to
further revelations.
"No one could have wished her any harm," sniffed
Snipey dolefully. "The poor lamb! But he was the only one
there that knew her. You ask him!"
"He has made no secret of the fact. But I understand from
him that, though he knew her, he was not an intimate
friend of hers."
Snipey, her whole body quivering with indignation,
thrust a flushed face into his.
"Wasn't he?" she snorted. "Then why did he give her
that diamond brooch? The very brooch she was wearing
when she was struck down!"


CHAPTER FIVE
Constantine was lunching at the Club. His companion, the
expression on whose plump, goodnatured face bore trib-
ute to the excellence of his digestion, was senior partner
in a well-known firm of chartered accountants and a noted
chess player. The two men often fed together and, if Con-
stantine seemed a shade more silent than usual today, Gibbs,
who was as garrulous as he was amusing, did not notice
it. He could be depended on to keep the ball rolling while
his companion pursued his own line of thought uninter-
rupted.
Constantine had food for reflection. Arkwright had rung
him up just before lunch telling him of the second murder
and the finding of the weapon, and the letters M.A.U.H.H.
were playing hide and seek in his mind as he automatically
supplied the fuel necessary to keep his companion's tongue
wagging. It was not until the meal was over and the two
men had adjourned to the smoking room for their coffee
that he resolutely dismissed the subject of this second out-
rage from his thoughts and deftly brought the conversation
round to the Millers. It was a forlorn hope, but what
Gibbs did not know about the financial status of almost
any London firm was not worth knowing and there was
just a chance that he might be able to contribute something
useful. His response was immediate.
"I see you were there," he exclaimed, his fresh-coloured
74


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
75
face alight with curiosity. "Must have been a ghastly bus-
iness."
"I was," answered Constantine, humouring him. "I've
never seen a more appalling sight."
Gibbs waited, in the hope of a more detailed description,
then, as none came:
"What do you make of it? Robbery? The papers didn't
give that impression."
"As a matter of fact, I understand that some jewellery is
missing," answered Constantine, with the air of one im-
parting a state secret.
So far, the news of the missing pendant had not leaked
out, but, knowing that Miller would make no secret of his
loss, Constantine saw no urgent need for discretion. Gibbs'
eyes gleamed. This was inside information, such as the
layman loves.
"Then the police think that robbery was the motive?"
he pursued eagerly.
"It seems the most obvious explanation," admitted Con-
stantine. "The poor woman has been literally asking for
trouble for a long time. The wonder is that no one has had
a try at those jewels before. Miller's a rich man, I imagine,
but, judging from what she was wearing when I saw her,
he must have found her an expensive proposition."
"Oh, he's sound enough financially," said Gibbs. "He's
not a client of ours, but I was talking yesterday to a fellow
who went through his books a month or so ago. It's a very
flourishing business, but, from all accounts, he didn't fork
out easily. To his wife, least of all!"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"You don't think he was responsible for the bulk of the
gewgaws she was wearing?" queried Constantine sharply.
Gibbs laughed.
"I wouldn't go so far as that," he said, "though I fancy
some of them may be relics of the past. She was a bit of a
gold digger in the old days, you know. But, apart from all
that, she had a mania for buying jewels and what you saw
must be only a small part of what she possessed. The
trouble was, she didn't always pay for them. As I said,
Miller didn't part with his money easily."
"Are you speaking from personal knowledge?" asked
Constantine, "or just hearsay?"
"I know this," answered Gibbs drily. "She was on the
black list of several of the big London people. I've seen
their books. She used to say openly that her husband
hardly ever gave her anything. Owing to his business con-
nections and the fact that she was, in her way, a good cus-
tomer, she got longer rope than most people and they
generally managed to collect from Miller himself in the
end, but she owed money everywhere and was always
complaining that he kept her short of cash."
"In fact, instead of being the rich woman one thought
she might have been actually hard up," suggested Con-
stantine thoughtfully.
"She was being dunned right and left and, I should
imagine, was afraid to appeal to her husband," asserted
Gibbs.
After Gibbs had left him Constantine lingered in his
chair by the fire, his eyes closed, engaged in the not too
pleasing contemplation of the Miller menage. When he at


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
77
last shook himself out of his abstraction and left the club
it was to pick up a taxi and direct the driver to an address
in Hatton Garden.
He found the man he was seeking in his office, a Greek,
who had set up as a jeweller in London many years ago
and who owed much of his success to the patronage of the
Constantines. He greeted his patron's son as an old friend.
"You've come at the right moment," he exclaimed. "I've
got an intaglio here that will make your mouth water. The
museum people are after it already."
With the deliberation of the very old he unlocked his
safe and produced a ring. If Constantine chafed under the
delay he did not show it and the old man had no fault
to find with his appreciation of the gem. It was not until it
was safely stowed away again that he broached the real
object of his visit.
"I suppose this Miller case has made something of a stir
in this part of the world," he said.
The old Greek cast a shrewd glance at him as he unlocked
a drawer in his table and produced the cigars that he kept
only for his most favoured clients.
"So it was not only for my beaux yeux that you came to
see me," was his dry comment. "If you would find out all
about Miller, go to Hatton Garden, hein? When I saw your
name in the papers I began to expect you."
He leaned forward to hold a match to Constantine's
cigar, took one himself and, when it was well alight, leaned
back in his chair and stretched his short legs out under the
table.
"You shall have all I can tell you," he said. "There has


78
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
been talk, yes, but they were not popular, the Millers, in
this quarter. In business he was respected. There was noth-
ing against him here, you understand. But his wife did not
mix well, she had social aspirations and showed her opin-
ion of her husband's associates too plainly. And, at best,
Miller himself was not a pleasant fellow."
"You said there was nothing against him here," said Con-
stantine. "Was there anything known to his disadvantage
elsewhere?"
"There were rumours," admitted the old man cautiously.
"I can only give them to you for what they are worth. The
diamond people from the Cape declare that he was mixed
up in a scandal there and was actually arrested and they are
of the opinion that he made a cat's paw of his assistant, who
was convicted and served his sentence. One of the De
Beers men who was here not long ago declared that he had
met the man shortly after his release from prison and that
he had sworn to get even with Miller. He also said, by the
way, that this man had left the Cape for Europe shortly
before he did. I know nothing, myself, of Miller's past, but
I must say that the story is generally accepted as true."
"Do you know the name of this man?" asked Constantinc
The Greek shook his head.
"I have never heard it, but it would be easy to trace."
"He would have had time to get over here?"
"Oh, yes. It is a month, at least, since I spoke to the De
Beers agent and he had been to Berlin and Paris on his
way to England. There has been plenty of time, but, my
friend, it was Mrs. Miller who was killedl If it had been
Miller, now!"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
79
"Too oblique a form of revenge, you think?"
The old man's eyes narrowed.
"If it had been a peasant vendetta in our own country,
no. It would have been as good a way as any other. But, in
England, and in the case of a man whose relations with
his wife were notoriously unfriendly?"
"The murderer may not have known that," put in Con-
stantine quickly.
The jeweller shrugged his shoulders.
"It was common talk. If you ask me, I do not think he
would try to hit him in that way. But the fact remains, this
man had a grudge against him and he may be in England."
Constantine assented absently.
"Miller has assured the police, who, by the way, are aware
of the arrest in Cape Town, that he knows of no one who
could possibly wish him ill," he said.
"If you were in Miller's place would you voluntarily al-
lude to that little episode in your past?"
Constantine's eyes twinkled.
"I suppose not," he admitted. "What is his standing
here?"
The jeweller smiled.
"His reputation is unblemished. But he has been caught,
once, remember, and he is very careful now. He is a clever
man, Miller, and I think he has discovered that, in this
country, honesty is the best policy. Certainly he has made
it pay. He has built up a good business."
Constantine stayed to drink a cup of Turkish coffee with
the old man, then took his leave. This time his thirst for
information carried him to a very different quarter.


8o
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Old Lady Farnborough had never, even in her prime,
been either beautiful or accomplished and now, in her
extreme old age, enthroned beside a blazing fire in her
stuffy, over-furnished drawing room, she would probably
have had to depend on her two aged and obese fox terriers
for companionship had it not been for two qualities that
had survived the years and made her one of the most
sought-after and detested old women in London. She was
possessed of a retentive memory and a curiosity as vivid as
Constantine's own. In the course of her long life she had
known everybody worth knowing and never, so it was said,
had she either failed to hear, or forgotten, the slightest
whisper to the detriment of any one of them. Daughter of
a famous politician and wife of one of the Stewards of the
Jockey Club, she had two richly manured fields from which
to cull her harvest and, as a result, her drawing room had
become the haunt of those who love gossip for its own
sake and the reference library of such writers of spicy
memoirs who depend on "good stories" for the sale of their
books. Of the Miller crowd she would, of course, know
nothing. They belonged to a class of which she barely ac-
knowledged the existence, but Constantine realised that,
for the present, he had got as far as he was likely to get
along that line. His object now was to forestall any infor-
mation that might reach Arkwright's ears later.
Lady Farnborough was at home, which was hardly sur-
prising, in view of the fact that she never went out if she
could possibly help it. She received Constantine graciously.
In her eyes he was still a "foreigner" and a nobody, whose
charm, good looks and money had won him the entree into


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
81
a magic circle that she would never realise had practically
ceased to exist. But she liked him and would store up some
of her choicest bits of scandal for his delectation.
"It is a long time since I've seen you," she panted gust-
ily. "Betty Culmer tells me you've got yourself mixed up in
this unsavoury business in Illbeck Street. Sit down and tell
me all about it."
"I'm afraid I can't tell you any more than you've seen in
the papers," answered Constantine, bending down to scratch
the elder of the terriers cunningly behind the ear.
"Nonsense. Never look at the papers nowadays. My maid
reads me as much as she thinks I can stand. It isn't good
for me to get in a temper at my age. According to Betty,
your dentist murdered some woman one's never heard
of. How you were mixed up in it I couldn't make out.
What's it all about? Dentists didn't murder people in my
day."
Constantine chuckled.
"They don't now. Poor Davenport had nothing to do
with it, but I was there when he discovered the poor wo-
man. She was a Mrs. Miller, the wife of a rich jeweller."
"Extraordinary the people one meets at one's dentist's,"
murmured his hostess. Then, briskly: "Well, who did do it,
if the dentist didn't?"
"That's what everybody would like to know. I fancy,
however, you have heard of Mrs. Miller. She was Lottie
Belmer before she married."
The old lady frowned.
"Wait a minute. It isn't like me to forget names. Of
course, Lottie Belmer was that fat chorus gell Billy Anker


8a
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
tried to get into the Enclosure at Ascot. The old duke had
to buy her off in the end. Cost him a pretty penny. And
then, on the top of it, Billy married an appalling woman
from Chicago, whose father kept a sausage shop. Rich as
Croesus until just after the wedding. Then there was a
corner in something and he lost every penny!"
"I remember now," said Constantine. "But there was
somebody else, wasn't there?"
"Dozens, one would imagine," agreed Lady Farnborough
airily. "She was Vallon's mistress for a time, I believe."
Constantine's hand paused in its progress down the dog's
back.
"Is that a fact, do you think?" he asked.
"Can't say. Everybody seemed to know it. I never saw
the woman myself. So someone's killed her? Well, that's
the way most of those women end, isn't it? Hush, pets, it's
only Cooper," as the two dogs burst into an asthmatic duet
on the entrance of the butler with the tea.
Constantine waited till he had been provided with a cup
and very buttery muffins before reverting to the subject of
Lottie Belmer.
"Richard Pomfrey never got into her clutches, did he?"
he asked.
"Whose? The Belmer gell's? Not he. He was otherwise
engaged," she answered drily. "He used to be seen about
with her though. Those gells all hang together."
"He went the pace while it lasted," said Constantine
reminiscently. "Curious how he steadied down when he
came into the property."
"Pity he didn't give up racing as well as the other things,"
i


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
83
retorted the old lady. "I hear he dropped a lot last year.
Algie tells me he's giving up his stables."
This was news to Constantine.
"Selling, do you mean?"
She nodded.
"Getting rid of them, lock, stock and barrel. I knew he
was hit pretty heavily. Poor Richard. If anyone had told me
he would ever give up racing I should have refused to be-
lieve them, but I gather there's a counter attraction now!
Curious that he can't keep his nose on this side of the foot-
lights!"
"Mrs. Vallon, you mean?"
"Who else? He's been dangling round her for the last
three years. Since her husband died it's only been a ques-
tion of time before she led him by the nose to the nearest
Registry Office. You'd have thought that other affair would
have taught him a lesson!"
"Mrs. Vallon's a very charming woman," objected Con-
stantine. "You can hardly class her with the Pagoda girls."
"Who was she?" came the swift retort, and Constantine
had perforce to admit that he did not know.
When that night Arkwright dropped in on him, he did
not tell him of his visit to Lady Farnborough nor repeat
what she had said, but salved his conscience by making a
detailed report of his interview with the old Greek jeweller.
Arkwright was interested to hear of the release of Miller's
former manager, but sceptical as to his possible connection
with the murder.
"Unless Cattistock ..."
He hesitated.


84 MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"Unless Cattistock is the name he adopted on his arrival
in England," finished Constantine. "Well, it's up to you to
find out. Have you got on the track of that illusive gentle-
man yet?"
"Not a trace of him. It's an uncommon name, too. We've
followed up two Cattistocks and drawn a blank. One is an
auctioneer's assistant, who was in Liverpool at the time of
the murder, the other's a bed-ridden old gentleman of
ninety-two, a retired lawyer's clerk, who hasn't walked a
step for the last five years. They've neither of them got any
male relatives. We've had one piece of good luck, however.
They've heard nothing at the hotel, but these arrived there
for him by post today."
He untied the string of a flat package he was carrying
and revealed a photographer's folder containing three un-
mounted prints, obviously proofs.
"Is this the man you ran into on the steps of Daven-
port's house?" he asked.
Constantine examined the three photographs. Each was
taken from a different aspect and could hardly have been
bettered from the point of view of identification. The
trouble was that Constantine's glimpse of the man had been
so fleeting. He said as much.
"If this isn't the man I met it is extraordinarily like him,
but he was wearing a hat and only took his handkerchief
away from his mouth for a moment as he passed me. I
believe this to be the same man, but that's as much as I
dare say. What about the photographers?"
"They know no more of him than we do. He simply went
in, had his portrait taken and told them to send the proofs


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
85
to his hotel. That was on the afternoon of the thirteenth,
the day before the murder. Another blind alley."
He cast a side-glance at Constantine's face and went on
more soberly.
"I got a curious bit of information from Mrs. Miller's
maid. That diamond thing she was wearing when she was
killed was given |o her by Sir Richard Pomfrey."
But Constantine did not rise to the bait.
"That does not surprise me," was all he said. "There was
money to throw away in those days before the war and
Richard did his share of the throwing. It's probably Rue
de La Paix stuff and a relic of some supper party or other
at which all the girls got extravagant presents. I've given
parties of that sort myself in my day. By the way, I sup
pose you've checked Miller's movements on the night of
the murder?"
Arkwright flashed a surprised glance at him.
"Yes," he said. "He went straight home in the afternoon
after leaving Illbeck Street and did not go out again until
I called on him at ten o'clock at night. He left the house
about ten thirty to meet a friend at Victoria. The servants
and his secretary corroborate this. Why this interest in Mil-
ler?"
Constantine shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't like him, that's all. And, sorry as I am for Mrs.
Miller, there must have been a certain temptation to get
rid of her!"
Arkwright frowned and stretched his long legs out to the
fire.
"About that woman," he said. "I got Miller to come


CHAPTER
S I X
"How did you get onto him? Where? Guildford? Right.
A widower, living alone. Sounds as if he might fit the
billet. No, I'll see to it myself."
Arkwright slammed the receiver onto its hook, stretched
out a long arm for the time-table and flicked over the
pages till he came to the one dealing with the Guildford
line. >
Half an hour later his train was bumping over the points
outside Waterloo and he was well on his way in pursuit of
his third and most hopeful Cattistock suspect.
On his arrival at Guildford he went first to the police
station. There he presented his credentials and arranged for
help should he find it necessary to detain his man. This
Cattistock, it appeared, was known to the police, though not
in the derogatory sense the phrase usually conveys. Their
account was that he had turned up in Guildford two years
before and had leased a small house not far from the police
station, establishing himself there with an elderly house-
keeper, a local woman of undoubted respectability. He was
known as the Rev. Charles Cattistock and was generally
understood to be a missionary who had been obliged to
retire on account of his health. He had twice spoken on
Eastern Missions at a neighboring Parish Hall and one
of the constables had attended a lecture and was of the
opinion that "the gentleman knew what he was talking
87


88
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
about." Both the constable and the station sergeant recog-
nized the photographs Arkwright showed them and he
began to feel certain that he was on the right track at last-
"Anything been seen of him lately?" he asked.
Come to think of it, nothing had, according to his infor-
mants, and Arkwright's suspicion that his luck had been
too good to last looked as though it was being verified.
There seemed nothing for it but to interview the house-
keeper and try to get some clue as to the man's where-
abouts. Arkwright accordingly made his way to the neat
little villa situated in one of the new streets that were al-
ready beginning to spread their tentacles round the old
town.
The housekeeper, a pleasant looking elderly woman,
opened the door and regarded him with just that shade
of suspicion that a good servant who knows the house is
empty feels towards the stranger.
"Mr. Cattistock is away, sir," she said, in answer to his
enquiry.
"Can you tell me when he will be back?"
"I'm afraid I can't, sir. I've been expecting to hear from
him."
Her voice was frank and untroubled.
"Can you give me his address?"
By this time the woman seemed to have convinced her-
self of his respectability. Leaving the door open, she turned
her back and took a postcard from the hall table.
"It's here, sir," she said, as she handed it to him.
Even before his hand closed on it Arkwright recognised


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
«9
the familiar paper heading of the Pergolese Hotel. Apart
from the fact that the station sergeant had given her an
excellent character, the woman's manner had been so natural
and her response so ready that Arkwright found it difficult
to suspect her of complicity and he decided to beat about
the bush no longer. He stepped briskly across the thres-
hold.
"I'm from the police," he said, "and there are one or
two questions I must ask you. Is there anywhere where
we can talk?"
The woman changed colour.
"Has the master had an accident?" she gasped, her hand
going involuntarily to her throat. Arkwright let his eyes
rest on her face for a moment before replying, but he
read genuine concern, rather than fear in it, and he
answered her frankly.
"We've reason to believe that he is quite safe," he said,
"but he has left his hotel and we cannot trace him. We need
him as a witness and I've come in the hope that you may
have some idea where he's gone."
Through an open door he could see into a neatly fun
nished sitting room. Followed by the housekeeper he
stepped into it, casting a keen glance round him as he
turned and faced her.
"Are there any relatives or friends he would be likely to
go to unexpectedly?" he asked.
She stared at him in utter bewilderment.
"I can't understand it, sir," she said. "His not being
at the hotel, I mean. His instructions were to forward
any letters there and he was to send me a card when he


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
91
"Of course, sir," she agreed, in surprise. "It's the living
spit of him. When did he get it done?"
"In London, the day before he disappeared. Where was
this group taken, do you know?"
"In China, I believe. He was a missionary there for years
till he retired."
"And this brother, where is he?"
"He's out there now, sir. Mr. Cattistock gets letters from
him regular."
"Is he a missionary too?"
"No, he's a merchant."
"What kind of merchant?"
She hesitated.
"I don't rightly know, sir. He doesn't seem to have a
shop, as it were. The master's told me about his house and
the lovely things he's got. He's always buying silks and
china and jewels. He sells them in England and America,
so far as I can make out, more than in China."
Arkwright nodded.
"An Export House. Has your master ever had any con-
nection with the jewellery trade, d'you know?"
"Oh no, sir. He's been in the Church all his life, Mr.
Cattistock has. But he knows a lot about jewels and china
and things through his brother. He told me that the most
beautiful jewellery in the world was in China."
Arkwright slipped the photograph out of its frame and
placed it in the folder.
"I'll take this for the present," he said. "It may be useful
if we run across him. Has he ever gone off like this before?"
Again she shook her head.


92
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"He always gives me his address and lets me know when
to expect him back. He said this time he wouldn't be gone
more than a week. I don't understand it at all, sir."
"Does he often go up to London?"
"Hardly ever, unless there's a Missionary Meeting or
something of that sort. He went up once to meet a mis-
sionary gentleman he'd known in China, but he lives very
quiet down here, as a rule. You don't think any harm
could have come to him, sir?"
There was a quiver of anxiety in her voice and Ark-
wright smiled down at her reassuringly. Whatever Cat-
tistock's faults might be he was evidently a good master.
"I don't think you need worry yourself," he said.
"Though there is a possibility he may be suffering from
loss of memory. Does he suffer from his nerves at all?"
She denied this emphatically.
"He's a very quiet, peaceful sort of gentleman, but no
one would call him nervous. Very liable to colds, he is, but
he says that's from living so long in the East."
Her work-roughened fingers were beginning to pluck
restlessly at the strings of her apron. Not too quick at the
uptake she was only just beginning to realise that there
must be something seriously wrong if the police were
concerning themselves with the matter. Arkwright ex-
tended a huge hand and covered both hers.
"Don't you worry," he said, giving them a reassuring
little shake. "We've got the matter in hand and in a day
or so we shall be able to tell you where he is, if you haven't
heard from him by then. He may have paid a visit to some-
one and gone down with a touch of flu there."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
93
There was something capable and protective about bis
very largeness and she felt vaguely comforted as he went on:
"There's one thing you can do for us. If you do get word
of him, just go around to the police station here and let
the sergeant know. He'll pass it on to us. Meanwhile, if
we hear anything, we'll advise you."
He did not tell her that a watch would be kept on the
house and that, should her master return unexpectedly, he
would not leave again without the knowledge of the police.
He dropped into the police station to make certain ar-
rangements and then caught the next train back to London.
On his arrival there he went straight to Illbeck Street and
showed Davenport the photographs. He identified them
unhesitatingly.
Arkwright then returned to the Yard, only to find that
there had been no startling developments there. The mur-
dered woman was still unidentified and the man he had
sent to Victoria had so far drawn a blank. He gave him
one of the Cattistock proofs and told him to circulate it
among the station officials on the chance that he had been
seen there on the night of the murder.
Late that evening a cable containing a more detailed
report on Miller arrived from the Cape Town police.
After studying it he rang up Constantine and arranged to
call on him on his way home. He knew the old man too
well not to realise the concern Sir Richard Pomfrey's pre-
dicament was causing him, and if there were any comfort
to be gained from the results of his day's work, he did not
grudge it to him.
On his father's death Constantine had sold the huge,


94
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
unwieldy mansion in Bayswater, divided the bulk of the
treasures it contained among various museums, and estab-
lished himself in a roomy and comfortable flat in West-
minster.
Arkwright, as he stood waiting outside the familiar green
door, pondered gratefully on the chance that had thrown
him and the old Greek together in an old inn one snowy
Christmas. Arkwright, a bachelor, whose heart and soul
was in his job, had been rapidly falling into a dreary nit
when Constantine had rescued him and introduced him
to that curious and cosmopolitan fraternity that gathers
round the chess board.
The man who opened the door was by now an old
friend of his.
"Dr. Constantine all right, Manners?" he asked.
Manners permitted himself to smile.
"Dr. Constantine is opening a new box of Halva, sir,"
he said, as though that were more than sufficient answer
to the question.
Arkwright, who shared his host's predilection for that
sticky Eastern sweetmeat, took the stairs two at a time and
peered round the door just as Constantine had finished ex-
tracting a last generous slice from the tin. He held the
plate out in silence, with the result that the opening para-
graphs of his guest's report were delivered with a diction
reminiscent of a small boy at a school treat.
There was a glint of triumph in the old man's eyes
when he had finished.
"So?" he said. "We seem to be getting somewhere.
China, and a brother with unlimited opportunities for


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
95
disposing of a stolen pendant. It fits in almost too well,
Arkwright! There's a flaw somewhere!"
"The flaw's there, right enough," answered the detective.
"For one thing, we haven't got Cattistock and he's had
time to get through to Marseilles by now. We're having
the seaports watched, but we didn't get onto the job till
after the two o'clock boat train had gone. We can use
wireless, of course."
"You can get to work at the other end."
"And meanwhile the whole thing will hang fire for
months. You've been notified as to the inquest tomorrow,
I suppose? We shall get it adjourned of course. There's
the other unfortunate woman, too. We're neither of us in-
volved in that, thank goodness. In any case, they are wait-
ing for identification."
"Nothing further cropped up, I suppose?"
"This. We've got the name of that manager of Miller's."
Arkwright took an envelope from his pocket and pro-
duced a cablegram which he handed to Constantine.
The old man ran through it.
"Greeve," he quoted, "discharged July nineteen fifteen-
Believed to have left Cape Town in the course of the last
year, but no record of anyone of that name having sailed.
Probably travelling under an assumed name."
Constantine glanced at the detective.
"He'd need a passport," he suggested.
"That wouldn't worry him," said Arkwright. "If he's
served a sentence he'll have come across a dozen people who
could have put him in the way of getting one. There's only
one thing we can bank on. He's not Cattistock!"


96
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"Unless he's done Cattistock in and taken his name,"
suggested Constantine, with a smile. "And that seems rather
too far-fetched to be true!"
Arkwright straightened himself, a piece of Halva half-
way to his mouth.
"There's something in that, all the same!" he exclaimed.
"If Cattistock's a wrong 'un, they may have been in it to-
gether, Cattistock didn't come in or leave by the lavatory
window, remember. I said there were flaws and this is the
worst of them."
"Not to mention that Cattistock's a respectable member
of the Church of England. You got onto him through the
Clergy List, didn't you?"
"Time enough for him to convince us of that when we
catch him," was Arkwright's sceptical rejoinder. "The
Cattistock in the Clergy List may have died in China for
all we know and this man may have been impersonating
him at Guildford. That's an old game and far easier to pull
off than you might think. The crux, from the beginning,
has been that business of the next door house. Someone
came in or left that way!"
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," said Constantine slowly.
"What have we really got to go on? The fact that the key
of the consulting room door was found on the leads out-
side, the traces outside the lavatory window and the open
window in the house next door. But, remember, the only
traces of blood were inside Davenport's house. Taking into
account the fact that the house next door has been unin-
habited for months, is there any reason why the entry into
Davenport's house should not have been made any time


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
97
within the past week and for some reason quite uncon-
nected with the murder? I admit that it would be a coin-
cidence, but stranger things than that have happened. There
has been no rain for a week and nothing to disturb the
traces. An open window in an empty house might not be
discovered for a long time."
"The thing's not impossible," Arkwright agreed reluct-
antly. "We can find out from Davenport whether he's got
reason to think his house has been entered at any time, but
he's hardly likely to have had anything in the shape of a
burglary without mentioning it. If he has, that will wash
out the idea of an accomplice. All the same, we'll have a
try at locating Greeve."
Constantine returned to the cablegram.
"I see that Miller came to Cape Town in nineteen eleven,"
he observed, "and left immediately after his acquittal in
nineteen fourteen. He seems to have returned again in nine-
teen twenty-six and to have left the same year for England.
Where was he in the interval?"
"I've got my own theory as to that," said Arkwright
darkly. "We'll have his passport verified, but I'm willing
to bet that he's down as a naturalised South African. That
doesn't prevent his being a foreigner. Unless I'm mistaken,
m"Miller may have had his own reasons for leaving Cape
"And nineteen fourteen is a significant date!"
Arkwright nodded.
"Miller may have had his own reasons for leaving Cape
Town just then," he said, "and, if he did offer his services,
say, to the Germans, his nationality would make him
doubly useful, from their point of view. His own account


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
is that he was in Switzerland, but I'd give something to
know what he was doing there, if only in the hope of estab-
lishing a motive."
"Aren't you rather ignoring the theft of the pendant?"
"If Cattistock, or anyone else, for the matter of that,
murdered Mrs. Miller for the sake of her jewels," said
Arkwright slowly, "why did he confine himself to the
pendant? He could have got away with a bigger haul than
that and, given this Chinese connection, he would have had
no difficulty in disposing of it."


CHAPTER SEVEN
Though Constantine attended the inquest on Mrs. Miller
he did not have to give evidence. Knowing that the police
were applying for an adjournment, the Coroner saw to it
that only essentials were dealt with, in spite of which it
was past lunch time before Arkwright managed to escape
and snatch some food on his way back to the Yard.
He found the detective he had sent to Victoria waiting
for him. He reported that he had struck oil at last.
"Got a man here, sir, a railway porter," he said, "who
identifies the body as that of a woman who arrived on the
seven fifteen boat train. He's been off duty since the mur-
der or we should have got onto him before. He's positive
that it's the same woman."
"Shown him the Cattistock photograph?" demanded
Arkwright.
"Yes, sir. He declared he's never set eyes on the man.
The photograph doesn't bear any resemblance to the per-
son that met her."
Arkwright grabbed the report the detective had placed
on his table. This looked like business at last.
"Send him along," he commanded briskly, as he read it.
His satisfaction deepened when, a few minutes later, the
man was ushered into the room. Gnarled, grizzled and
thickset, his shoulders bowed by a life spent in the lifting
of heavy weights, it was easy to place him as a porter of the
99


100
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
old school, who had probably been for years in the Com-
pany's service. Arkwright knew the type, slow of brain and
almost childishly observant of detail, a born gatherer of
unimportant facts. He gave his name as Joseph Osborne
"You were on duty at Victoria Station on the evening of
Monday last?" said Arkwright.
Osborne considered the question.
"That's right," he admitted huskily. "I come on at seven
and went off at eleven, an hour early on account of me
cough. 'Orrid bad, it was. I didn't get back Tuesday nor
yet Wednesday, owin' to bein' laid up. Reported this
mornin' I did, that's 'ow I come to 'ear about that there
enquiry."
Having said his say he passed the back of a horny hand
across his mouth and waited. Arkwright, who had had ex-
perience of this kind of witness, shot another leading ques-
tion at him and left him to tell his story in his own way.
"I understand that you recognised this woman when you
were taken to the mortuary today. Know anything about
her beyond the fact that you saw her at the station?"
The man shook his head.
"I carried 'er luggage, but I never see no name on the
labels. Shouldn't 'a noticed it, likely, if I 'ad. It's 'er, all
right, though. She come in on the seven fifteen. Three
minutes late she were."
"You didn't hear the address she gave the taxi?"
"I didn't," was the deliberate answer, "because she didn't
take no taxi. A gent met 'er and took 'er off in 'is car."
Arkwright leaned forward.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
101
"What was this gentleman like?" he asked. "Is there any
thing special you can remember about him?"
"There wasn't nothin' special, so far as I can remember,"
was the answer. "Of course, I didn't take special stock of
'im, if you understand me. 'Adn't got no reason to. Not too
short, nor yet too tall, dressed in one of them Burberrys, or
else a mackintosh, I'm not sure which. Think 'e must 'ave
'ad a soft 'at on. If it'd been a bowler or a cap I'd likely
'ave noticed, bein' as 'ow you don't often see 'em nowadays.
Anyway, I'd say 'e was dressed quite ordinary. I didn't see
much of 'is face, 'im bein' occupied with the lady, like, but
I see 'is little grey beard. That I do remember, but it's the
best I can do for you."
"A grey beard. You're sure of that?"
"Why shouldn't I be, seein' as I saw it?"
"What sort of beard?"
Osborne gave the matter his full attention.
"Smallish," he said at last. "Cut to a point, like. Very neat
and tidy. Neat lookin' sort of gentleman 'e was altogether,
now I come to think of it."
Arkwright visualised a certain, not uncommon type of
Frenchman.
"Was he a foreigner, do you think?" he asked.
Osborne scratched his head.
"They was askin' me that at the station," he said, "but I
told 'em as I couldn't say, one way or the other. 'E was
talkin' English, that I do know So was the lady. She looked
foreign, all right, but she didn't talk foreign. I'd put 'er
down as English, if you ask me."
"Did you hear what they said?"


102
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"Not a word. I was follerin' up with the luggage, if you
understand me, and, anyways, what with the noise in the
station, you wouldn't 'ear nothin'. The gentleman's English
seemed all right when 'e spoke to me."
"When was that?" Arkwright caught himself up and
amended his question. "Wait a second. Better tell the story
from the beginning in your own way."
"From where I first set eyes on the lady?"
"From the moment she engaged you. You actually saw
her get out of the train, I suppose?"
"Couldn't 'elp it, seein' as I got out 'er luggage for 'cr.
A suit-case and one of them week-end cases. She was in a
second class coach. I got 'em down from the rack and asked
'er if she'd got anythin' in the van. She said she 'adn't and
would I get a taxi for 'er. I was just goin' after a keb when
she 'ollered after me and I see this gentleman talkin' to 'er.
So I waited and then follered them along to 'is car."
"Open or closed?"
"Closed, it was. 'E put 'er in and shut the door, then 'e
told me to take the luggage to the cloak-room and bring
back the ticket to 'im. So I off with it to the cloak-room.
'E'd got the door of the car open and was talkin' to 'er
when I got back and when 'e see me 'e come to meet me
and took the ticket."
"You've no idea where they went?"
"Didn't even see 'em drive off. 'E give me 'alf a crown
for me trouble and that's the last I see of 'em."
Arkwright picked up the telephone on his desk and took
off the receiver.
"Hullo, Atkins, is Gordon there? That you, Gordon?


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
103
About this luggage in the cloak-room at Victoria. Is it still
there? Right. Send someone down for it and have it brought
to my room."
Arkwright consulted the detective's report once more.
"It's a pity you can't describe the car she went away in,"
he said. "Nothing special you can remember about it, I
suppose?"
"Don't know nothin' about cars," was Osborne's em-
phatic rejoinder. "Don't want to. Nasty things. I 'ardly
looked at it. Dark, I think it was and I know it 'ad one of
them tops on because 'e 'ad to 'old the door open to talk
to 'er."
"Had he got a driver?"
"'E was drivin' it 'imself. That was the last I see before
I turned away, 'im sittin' down in the driver's seat behind
the wheel."
"Do you know what time they left Victoria?"
"If they drove off at once it would be round about seven
thirty-five, seein' as I went straight off from there to meet
the seven thirty-seven, and she was on time."
Arkwright looked up from his notes with a friendly
smile.
"Sure that's the best you can do for us? Nothing else you
can remember?"
A gleam of humour appeared in Osborne's faded blue
eyes.
"Not unless I pitches you a tale, and I take it that
wouldn't be much good to you. I 'andles too many people's
luggage for me to remember much about 'em. Sorry I
couldn't do no better for you."


104 MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAB
"You've given us a shove in the right direction," said
Arkwright, as he dismissed him. "Someone else may have
noticed them. If you pick up any information, you let us
have it."
Osborne nodded, rose stiffly to his feet and" began wind-
ing an enormous and apparently interminable muffler round
his neck. He was drawing the end through the knot when
Arkwright's last words, which had been slowly germinating
in his mind, bore fruit.
"I reckon as the railway constable might 'ave somethin
to tell you if you asked 'im," he volunteered.
Arkwright looked up quickly. .
"Where does he come into it?"
"It was when the lady first got into the car. I was waitin'
with the luggage and the constable spoke to the gentleman.
There was a taxi wanted to draw up and there wasn't no
room for it. 'E 'ad to 'op in and back the car nearer to the
one behind. That's when I first see 'e was drivin' it 'im-
self."
"Did he speak to the constable?"
"There couldn't 'ave been more than a couple of words
passed between them. Then 'e got down and signalled me
to come over to 'im."
Arkwright frowned thoughtfully. He had an eye for de-
tail that had stood him in good stead before now.
"Why did he do that if he wanted the stuff taken to the
cloak-room?" he asked abruptly.
The porter shifted his cap to his other hand and scratched
his head.
"Now you come to mention it, I don't know," he said


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR 105
\
slowly. "I was nearer the-cloak-room where I was and that's
a fact."
"What were his movements exactly?"
Osborne's eyes closed in an effort at concentration.
"Well, first 'e 'opped up, like I told you, and backed the
car. Then 'e 'opped down and went round behind, and I
thought 'e was lettin' down the luggage rack, so I started
to move. I 'adn't 'ardly started when 'e looks round the
back of the car and beckons to me, but when I gets round
to the back 'e tells me to take the lot to the cloak-room. I
thought to myself as 'e'd changed 'is mind, like."
"And when you brought back the cloak-room ticket he
came to meet you and took it from you. Is that right?"
"That's right."
After he had gone Arkwright added his notes to the de-
tective's report. On the arrival of Gordon with the mur-
dered woman's luggage he sent him back to Victoria to
fetch the station constable while he.embarked on a careful
inspection of the contents of the two cases. They were both
locked, but the locks were of the kind that are invariably
supplied with inexpensive luggage and presented little
difficulty. As it turned out, Arkwright might just as well
have spared himself even that slight exertion, for there was
literally nothing in either of the cases that provided even the
smallest clue to the woman's identity. The larger contained
clothing, including a couple of evening dresses, of the same
style and quality as the dress she had been wearing when
she was killed. The smaller case held only toilet articles
and the things necessary for one night. There was not a


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
letter, document, photograph, or even a newspaper cutting
in either of them.
Arkwright sat back on his heels and regarded the two
cases on the floor before him, his face dark with perplexity
and exasperation. If the murdered woman carried one of
those voluminous hand-bags that are so much in use now-
adays there was every reason to suppose that she had her
passport and any private letters with her when she was
killed, but such a complete dearth of the usual epistolary
moss gathered even by the most confirmed rolling stone
was, to put it mildly, unnatural. And she had told the
porter that she had no big luggagel The only remaining
possibility was that she had followed the custom in vogue
with wealthy Americans and had forwarded her trunks
through an agent, in which case they would materialise in
a day or so, but Arkwright did not feel hopeful. He was
gradually being forced to the conclusion that she had only
come over for a couple of nights and that the bulk of her
possessions was still on the other side of the Channel. If,
as he was beginning to think, she had no friends in Eng-
land and her papers remained ungetatable, things were at
a hopeless deadlock. The only chance, in that case, was to
concentrate on the car and its owner and, unless the con-
stable on duty at Victoria possessed an unusually retentive
memory, it did not look as if that line was going to lead
far. Arkwright settled to wait for his arrival in a mood that
was not lightened by the receipt of a report from the Guild-
ford police to the effect that nothing had been heard of
Cattistock. His housekeeper had called at the police station
to ask what she was to do with his correspondence and was


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
107
beginning to betray acute anxiety as to his welfare. She had
been directed to deliver all letters to the station. The three
she had brought with her accompanied the report.
Arkwright opened them, only to fling them on the table
with a snort of exasperation. Two small bills from local
tradesmen and a form from the secretary of a well-known
charity committee to say that Cattistock's annual sub-
scription of five shillings was overdue. Arkwright reflected
dourly that if the sums had been larger the correspondence
might have furnished proof that the man was pressed for
money, but the three claims together did not amount to
fifteen shillings and there was no reason to believe that they
would not have been met promptly if he had been at home.
According to the report he was, as the housekeeper had
said, well thought of in the neighbourhood and had the
reputation of settling his accounts regularly.
To Arkwright, in his present frame of mind, the state-
ment of the constable was as the first bright gleam of sun
on a dull day. He proved to be young and earnest, with the
tan of his native Dorset still on his cheeks. He had been
only two months in London and was inclined to take both
himself and his job with a seriousness that would have been
amusing under other conditions. As it was Arkwright
blessed the gods that had placed this particular man on such
a spot at such a time, for he not only remembered the car,
but could describe it and even had ideas about the number.
"I wouldn't like to say for sure, sir," he said, with a
caution that betrayed his peasant stock. "There were five
cars I took count of that evening and I may have got them
a bit mixed."


lot
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAT*
"Can you remember the others?"
The constable reeled off five sets of numbers with com-
mendable precision.
"How did you come to have them so pat?" asked Ark-
wright, with a gleam of amusement.
The constable flushed.
"I started doing it for practice, sir," he explained. "Then
I got into the way of it. Being in the station yard there,
I often have to say a word to the drivers and, when I do,
I make a note of the number of the car in my mind, as it
were, and go over them in the evening, just to see how
many I can remember. It's just a sort of habit."
"An uncommonly good one," said Arkwright. 'It's a
thing I've recommended to any number of recruits, but I've
never caught one at it till now! I gather that you're not too
sure of these?"
"The numbers themselves are all right, sir," was the
reply. "I can pretty well vouch for that. I've got a sort of
system of my own for remembering them. What I'm not
sure about is whether I gave you the right one. I'm a bit
hazy about the order in which that car came."
"Then if we follow up the lot we can be pretty sure of
hitting on the car? They're all London numbers, I see."
"That's right, sir. Morris Oxford, dark green or dark
blue, I'm not sure which."
"Notice anything special about the driver?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. He wasn't looking my way when I
spoke to him and he didn't turn round. Just muttered
something and climbed into the car and backed her. I could


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
see he had a beard, but that was all. Once he'd cleared the
way I didn't take no further notice of him."
Arkwright dismissed him, making a mental note to keep
an eye on him if he went on shaping well, and stepped
across to the Traffic Branch. There he had little difficulty in
tracing the owners of the five cars in question.
Having more faith in the constable's memory than the
youngster had himself, he decided to begin with the num-
ber he had first mentioned. The owner of this car, it ap-
peared, ran a public garage near Buckingham Palace Road.
He accordingly went there.
At the sight of his card the proprietor left his office and
came to meet him, revealing himself as a short, stocky little
man, badly hampered by an artificial leg which he managed
with difficulty. He had ex-officer written all over him and
Arkwright, at the sight of him, blessed his luck for sending
him yet another witness capable of making a coherent state-
ment. The man's greeting was characteristic.
"What are you trying to fasten on me, Inspector?" he
demanded, with a grin. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it!"
"We're letting you off lightly this time," Arkwright as-
sured him, "though I'm not sure that one of your cars
hasn't been up to mischief."
The man stared at him for a moment, then his eyes nar-
rowed.
"Bet I can tell you which it is," he exclaimed. "Have a
look at this."
He limped ahead of Arkwright down a long alley of
cars into the back of the garage and stopped opposite a dark
green Morris Oxford.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"How's that?" he asked.
Arkwright glanced at the number plate.
"That's the offender," he admitted.
The little man cocked a shrewd eye at him.
"Want to know where she was last Monday evening, the
fourteenth, by any chance?" he asked.
Arkwright smiled.
"We should be glad of any information you can give us,"
he agreed noncommittally.
"Properly speaking, it ought to be the other way round,"
grumbled the proprietor. "However, I'll do what I can for
you. As a matter of fact, I've got it all pat. At about seven
o'clock on Monday night a man came in and said he wanted
a car for the evening. I gathered that it was the usual
restaurant and theatre business. As he hadn't dealt with us
before and wasn't taking a driver I had to ask him to pay
in advance, which he did."
"He paid in notes, I suppose?" put in Arkwright.
"Yes, and there was nothing fishy about them. I tried
one on my bank manager next day."
"Can you describe the man?"
"Medium sized, middle-aged, with a small, pointed grey
beard. Dressed in a good quality rain-coat and a felt hat.
That's all I can remember."
Arkwright nodded.
"That's near enough. It's our man all right," he said.
"Did he give his name?"
"No. To tell you the truth I didn't bother much about
him. One gets pretty good at sizing people up in this busi-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
1n
ness and I put him down as all right. Looked well to do
and respectable and all that."
Arkwright stared at the car thoughtfully.
"Don't happen to have kept any of those notes, I sup-
pose?" he asked.
The other nodded.
"Owing to what happened afterwards I felt a bit sus-
picious about them, so I stuck them in an envelope, and
when I went to the bank I got the manager to vet them for
me. He passed them all right and changed one of them for
me into silver. I've been carrying the other two about with
me ever since, meaning to shove them in the till."
He took a wallet from his pocket and extracted an en-
velope which he handed to Arkwright. Arkwright inspected
the two pound notes it contained and held one of them up
to the light.
"Was this green stain on it when you got it?" he asked.
"Yes. Nobody's handled it but myself and the bank man-
ager."
Arkwright took two pounds from his pocket and gave
them to him, keeping the others in exchange.
"I'll take charge of these if you don't mind," he said.
"And now I'll ask you how you knew that this was the car
I was after?"
The proprietor glared at him.
"I like that!" he exclaimed indignantly. "Considering
you had a full description of this car first thing Tuesday
morning!"
'There are about two hundred police stations in Lon-


112
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
don," suggested Arkwright mildly. "Which of them did
you patronize?"
The glare subsided, to be replaced by a broad smile.
"One up to you," admitted the little man. "Honestly, I
thought that was what you had come about."
"On the contrary, I came for information."
"Then you shall have it," was the sardonic answer.
"Though you may not know it, you were looking for that
car, at least, in my ignorance, I thought you were, through
the greater part of Tuesday morning. That chap who took
it out forgot to bring it back."
"Seeing that it is back, may I ask where we found it?"
"In a mews near Grosvenor Place," answered the owner.
"I can't help feeling you ought to have known that!"


CHAPTER EIGHT
"So that's what you thought I came for," said Arkwright
solemnly, giving quite an able imitation of the imbecile
stage policeman. But the little ex-officer at his elbow did
not miss the dry humour that lurked in his grey eyes and
was not surprised when he continued, with a complete
change of tone: "Now it's my turn. This is a case of murder
and there seems every reason to believe that your little tin
Lizzie, there, is an accessory!"
But the manager had played poker, too, in his day. His
face remained imperturbable.
"You don't say so," he drawled. "I must admit I'm sur-
prised at her. She's been a quiet, well-behaved little body
up till now. Are you going to arrest her? I've got my living
to make, you know."
"Depends on what I find in her. Has she been overhauled
since she came in that night?"
"She has been looked over cursorily, just to make sure
that no damage had been done to her, but it was the engine
we were interested in, mostly. She hasn't been cleaned yet."
"Been out since then?"
"No. As a matter of fact, she's a bit of a maid of all
work. I use her sometimes myself, but, as a rule, I only let
her out to customers like that chap the other night, people
I've had no dealings with before and who aren't taking a
"3


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
driver. There's been no demand for her since Monday. Ex-
cept for the engine, she's just as she was when your people
brought her in on Tuesday."
Arkwright opened the door, climbed onto the running:
board and ran his eye over the cushions and wood-work.
The proprietor watched him for a moment, then turned
and limped off in the direction of his office, to return almost
at once carrying an electric torch.
He handed it silently to Arkwright, who grunted his
acknowledgments. His head was under the steering wheel
and he was examining the wood-work of the door next the
driver's seat. He turned the light of the torch on it and
watched the beam as it travelled slowly upwards until it
reached the seat itself. The cushions revealed themselves as
rubbed and dusty, but otherwise uninjured. Slowly the little
disk of light swung round and rested finally on the up-
holstery to the left of the seat.
"Got it, by Jove!"
The exclamation came from the garage proprietor, who
had climbed onto the running board beside Arkwright and
was peering over his shoulder.
Beginning about eight inches above the edge of the cush-
ion of the seat and running down to it, was a long, dark
brown smear.
The proprietor heaved himself to the ground, hobbled
round to the other side of the car and hoisted himself once
more onto the running board. His round face sharpened
with curiosity and excitement, he resembled a fox terrier
at the mouth of a rat hole.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"5
"Let me get that cushion out!" he exclaimed. "If that's
blood, somebody's hand's been down there."
Arkwright straightened his back and stood waiting.
"Careful you don't shift anything," he enjoined, keeping
the torch focussed on the cushion as the proprietor lifted it
carefully out.
Underneath, jammed into a corner, was a pair of motor
gauntlets. Arkwright bent over and picked them up gin-
gerly. They were literally stiff with dried blood.
The proprietor gaped at him, his face considerably less
florid than it had been but a moment before.
"So that's that," he said. Then, with an attempt at his
former manner. "Poor old Lizzie! What a damned shame!"
He helped Arkwright to make a careful search of the
whole of the interior of the car, but there was nothing fur-
ther of any interest to be found.
"Chap must have been killed outside the car," he said,
when they had finished, "and those gauntlets just shoved
down there afterwards."
Arkwright picked up a bit of newspaper from the floor
and wrapped the gloves in it.
"The murder was committed inside the car, I suspect," he
asserted, "and a shawl muffled round the neck of the victim
in time to catch the spurt of blood."
"Spurt?"
Arkwright nodded.
"Jugular. The shawl was saturated."
The little man looked as if he had suddenly come across
a very nasty smell.
"Good Lord!" he ejaculated. "It seems to have been a


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
pretty skillful job! Sort of professional touch about it,
what?"
"There was," assented Arkwright grimly. "And about
the other, too!"
The proprietor's jaw dropped.
"What other? Isn't one of this sort enough for you?"
Arkwright, the parcel containing his gruesome find under
his arm, turned to go.
"It's a comfort to feel that we've got something under
our hats at the Yard that you don't know," he said com-
placently. "We must ask you to leave that car as it is and
keep it in the garage for the present."
"Do you think I'm likely to send it out in that state?
This is a garage, not the Chamber of Horrors!" exclaimed
the proprietor disgustedly , as he accompanied him to the
door. He did not speak again till they reached the street,
then:
"You didn't tell me that poor old Lizzie's victim was a
lady. Very discreet of you. But I do read my paper in the
morning and when two women get their throats cut on the
same day one can't help wondering! How does the official
hat feel now, Inspector?"
Arkwright took his off and examined it critically.
"Smaller than the civilian head," he retorted with a grin,
as he departed.
Back in his office at the Yard he examined his find more
carefully. The gauntlets bore no mark except their size
number, stamped inside the cuff. They were of inexpensive
make and had seen a good deal of service before they had
been ruined so irretrievably. Arkwright pushed them aside


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
117
and turned his attention to the notes he had taken from
the garage proprietor. These were both new and, which
was more interesting, bore consecutive numbers. Across the
corner of one of them was a green stain. While he was con-
sidering them the telephone bell rang. Arkwright took off
the receiver to find Constantine at the other end.
"I've had a stroke of luck," he said, "and, as a result, I've
got a suggestion to make to you. Did Miller tell you
anything about that woman he was by way of meeting at
Victoria on Monday night?"
"Nothing, beyond the fact that she had not arrived. As
I told you, he got the wind up before his visit to the mortu-
ary. Thought the murdered woman might out to be his
friend, but he failed to identify her."
"He did definitely fail to identify her?"
"Said he'd never seen her before. It was evidently a great
relief to him."
"Does Miller strike you as being the sort of person to
feel acute concern as to the fate of a vague friend of his
wife's? He didn't give the impression that she was an
intimate friend of his own, did he?" i
"No, I rather gathered that he didn't know her well and
was annoyed at her coming. What is the bright idea, sir?"
Constantine countered with another question.
"Have you had tea? Or does Scotland Yard not run to
such effeminacies?"
"As one old lady to another, I have not," retorted Ark-
wright, "but, as a means of changing the subject. .. ."
"Then I'll be with you very shortly and join you in a
cup," went on Constantine imperturbably. "Then, if there's


n8
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
nothing in my idea we shall neither of us have wasted our
time."
"Delighted," assented the mystified Arkwright, his finger
already on the bell. He sent the messenger who answered
it out to buy cakes, cleared a space on his table for the tray
and waited. If Constantine said "shortly," he meant it and
he knew him well enough to be certain that any idea of his
would be worthy of consideration.
The old chess player's eyebrows went up at the sight of
the tray.
"So this is where our money goes, is it?" he remarked
plaintively. "Well, I don't grudge it to you. Between mouth-
fuls I'll try to prove to you that I'm not so senile as I may
have sounded on the telephone. I had a chat with Miller
today."
Arkwright paused in the act of pouring out tea.
"Did he go to see you?" he asked in surprise.
"Hardly. Fate threw us together. I decided to indulge
my old bones in a Turkish Bath this morning. Simmering
on the next slab to myself was Miller. We could have
hardly devised a more informal meeting and I may mention
that he looks singularly unprepossessing in a Turkish
Bath."
"So I should imagine," answered Arkwright apprecia-
tively. "I gather you exercised your well known powers of
conversation on him?"
Constantine smiled reminiscently.
"I did my best. He was more than ready to talk about
the murder, in fact I had difficulty in keeping him off the


120
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Arkwright stared at him.
"You're not suggesting that he did recognize the woman
in the mortuary?" he said.
"No. I'm suggesting that he didn't, because he couldn't.
Did he ever tell you in so many words that he had ever met
this friend of his wife's?"
Arkwright hesitated.
"He certainly implied it," he said at last. "What object
could he have in concealing the fact that he didn't know
her?"
"None, unless he wanted to delay the identification as
long as possible. Supposing, when he told you his wife's
friend had never turned up, he had also told you that
he did not know what she looked like, what would you
have done?"
"I should have worked on the assumption that she might
have come on an earlier train and endeavoured to find out
whether she was missing, I suppose, merely on the chance
that she might prove to be the murdered woman."
"Helped by the fact that Miller, though he had never seen
her, could supply you with all particulars as to her identity.
By implying that he knew her and did not recognise her,
he managed to evade this. Why?"
"But he hasn't admitted to you that he has never seen her,
sir," objected Arkwright.
"In all but actual words, he has admitted it," asserted
Constantine impatiently. "I can't prove it, but I tell you I
know he was unable to describe her and that he didn't
dare take the risk of giving a false description."
"I can't see why he should have hesitated there. If the


122
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
the fire in the library at seven twenty-five states that he was
there then; the butler spoke to him in the library at seven
forty-five and saw him cross the hall from the secretary's
room at a few minutes to eight. We know that the murder
in Eccleston Square took place somewhere between seven
thirty and eight. The secretary, who was working in his
room all the evening, states that he took letters into the
library for Miller's signature several times during the eve-
ning. No, however fishy his behaviour may have been since,
he was not concerned in the murder."
Constantine deliberated for a moment.
"It looks as if he were lying low about something that
happened in the past," he said, at last. "Something fairly
significant, I should think. I have a strong suspicion that
he knows, or at least suspects, who killed his wife."
"The man's frightened," insisted Arkwright. "I can tell
you that. Shouldn't wonder if he thinks he'll be the next
to go."
"If that's the case his obvious course should be to ask
for police protection," was Constantine's dry comment. "I'd
give a great deal to know why he doesn't. Some queer
things happened in Switzerland during the war. Have you
worked on that line at all?"
"I've tried the Special Branch. There's nothing doing
there. They've no record of anyone of that name, but then,
of course, he may have called himself anything. He was
certainly in funds when he got back to Cape Town in nine-
teen twenty-six. It was understood that he had been dealing
in jewels in Switzerland for some time."
"With Russian refugees pouring in from all sides there


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
was a good field for business there. He may have made his
money honestly. All the same I think our friend Miller is
worth watching."
Constantine leaned forward and picked up The Times
from Arkwright's desk.
"The Russian show opens on Monday next at the Parthe-
non Playhouse," he said. "They are running a kind of
variety performance between the two big films. It would be
interesting to know whether any member of the cast is
missing."
Arkwright gathered himself to his feet.
"The resources of the Yard are at your disposal, sir," he
announced, with a grin. "But, honestly, I think you are
drawing a bow at a venture."
"Well, if we do hit anything the credit will go to you,"
retorted Constantine, "and the Yard has plenty of arrows
at its disposal."
Arkwright applied himself to the telephone and had no
difficulty in getting the address of the manager of the
Russian Company from the box office at the Parthenon.
After a short conversation he hung up the receiver with a
sigh. ,
"He's at a small hotel off the Strand," he said. "I'd better
see the man myself. Interviewing temperamental foreigners
on the phone is a poor business at best. What will you do,
sir? I shall come straight back here, I expect."
Constantine smiled shrewdly.
"If only for the pleasure of saying 'I told you so,' to a
fussy old gentleman," he replied. "On the whole, I should


«4
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
prefer to be present at the scene of my humiliation. Unless
you feel that I shall mar the official atmosphere?"
Arkwright executed a neat continental bow as he picked
up the receiver once more and gave the number of the man-
ager's hotel.
"I shall welcome your assistance, my dear colleague," he
asserted floridly.
The manager was at home and, ten minutes later, Con-
stantine having insisted on a taxi on the score of his ad-
vancing years, they entered the hotel.
Monsieur Karamiev, a short, immensely fat individual,
whose clean-shaven, very sallow face seemed permanently
afflicted with that look of vague discomfort and apprehen-
sion so often to be observed on the Channel, hurried down
from his room at the sight of Arkwright's official card and
professed himself entirely at his service. He protested vol-
ubly and in excellent English that his papers and those of
his artistes were all in order.
Arkwright, who, on the way from the Yard, had sug-
gested that Constantine should take charge of this, his own,
investigation, reassured Monsieur Karamiev on this point
and introduced his companion.
"This gentleman has one or two questions to ask con-
cerning a member of your troupe," he said, and then, with
a mischievous side glance at Constantine, retired into the
background.
Constantine opened negotiations with a bow as elaborate,
if slightly less florid, than the Russian's.
"I must apologise for troubling you, Monsieur," he said,


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"but I have been given to understand that Madame Abram-
off is a member of your company."
Monsieur Karamiev's look of nausea became more pro-
nounced.
"Ah, Monsieur," he exclaimed tragically. "I knew itl
You have come to tell me that Madame Abramoff is un-
able to play on Monday! You are a doctor, yes?"
Constantine smiled.
"Not a doctor of medicine, Monsieur," he assured him.
"I have no message from Madame Abramoff. On the con-
trary, I was depending on you for information concerning
her. Could you oblige me with her address?"
The manager threw out his fat little arms in a gesture
expressive of tragic despair.
"But I have it not! Imagine, Monsieur, we arrive on
Monday last at the station here in London. My artistes go
to the lodgings I have engaged for them, all of them except
Vera Abramoff. She leaves the station with a friend with
whom she is to stay during our engagement here. Before
she goes she tells me that she will telephone to me concern-
ing the times of our rehearsals and other important arrange-
ments we have to make between us. From that time until
now I hear nothing of her."
The amusement faded from Arkwright's eyes and he
took a step forward, only to subside at a warning gesture
from Constantine.
"You arrived, I think, at seven fifteen at Victoria, Mon-
sieur," suggested the old man.
Karamiev bowed.
"That is so, Monsieur."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"And this friend of Madame's? You saw him?"
"Assuredly, Monsieur. A very correct gentleman, the
husband, I understand, of the friend with whom Madame
was to stay."
"He was dark and clean-shaven, this gentleman?"
"But, no, Monsieur. He wore a little grey beard, cut as
one sees them in France and also in my country. I said to
myself, that Madame does not stay, as I thought, with her
compatriots."
"Madame Abramoff is English, then?"
The apprehension on the Russian's face deepened.
"I assure you that Madame's papers are correct, Mon-
sieur," he vociferated. "All through France and Germany
they have never been questioned. Madame is a Russian
subject by marriage, but she is of English parentage. Until
her husband's death during the Revolution she was a rich
woman, well known in society in Riga. There can be
nothing against her."
Constantine's smile was a miracle of polite deprecation.
"Believe me, Monsieur," he said, "we are not questioning
Madame's credentials. My interest in her is purely friendly.
But we have lost sight of her for many years and anything
you can tell us of her life in Russia would be of the greatest
assistance to us. Shall we sit down while you are kind
enough to satisfy our curiosity?"
Herding the little man towards a chair he took out his
cigarette case and offered it to him.
"You need be under no apprehension," he assured him.
"The police here haven't the smallest intention of interfer-
ing with your performance. This is a purely private matter,


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
127
in which my friend here, Chief Inspector Arkwright, has
kindly consented to help me. These friends, now, of
Madame Abramoffs, can you tell me anything about
them? Are they friends of long standing?"
Monsieur Karamiev shrugged his fat shoulders.
"I can only tell you what she has said to the other mem-
bers of my company, Monsieur," he answered. "Myself I
know nothing. The lady, I understand, was an old stage
acquaintance of Madame's in the days before her marriage.
Madame met Abramoff in England, married him and went
to Russia, where she has lived ever since. Her husband was
killed in the early days of the Revolution and Madame was
left penniless. Before I met Madame she had been acting
as dresser to a dancer, a woman of the new regime who
treated her worse than a dog. She was brought to me by
a member of my Company and, finding that I could use
her in my performance, I engaged her and she has been
travelling with us ever since. She can only play certain
parts, you understand. Hardship has altered her voice and
her looks, but for what you call the character parts she is
useful and I am glad to employ her."
"Can you think of anyone, Monsieur, who might wish
her ill? Is there any enemy she might have made during
those years in Russia?"
Monsieur Karamiev looked sceptical.
"It is difficult to believe, Monsieur," he answered. "Vera
Abramoff is so gentle and kindly. But during those years,
you understand, many strange things happened. She may
have made enemies, yes, in spite of herself. That she was


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
ill-treated, I know, but I have never heard that she harmed
anyone."
"She has never spoken of anyone whom she might have
reason to fear?"
For a second tragedy looked out of the eyes of the
Russian.
"There was a period, Monsieur," he said, "when we
feared everybody in Russia. Even those nearest to us. But
Vera Abramoff, once she had crossed the frontier, showed
no special fear. I think she is happy with us."
"She showed no reluctance to come to England."
"None, Monsieur. She seemed to be looking forward to
renewing her old friendships. She certainly spoke with
pleasure of this visit she was about to pay."
Constantine rose.
"Then I think I need trouble you no further, Monsieur,"
he said. "You have heard nothing from her, you say, since
she left you at the station?"
"Nothing. It is that which was making me anxious. To-
morrow we rehearse and she left me no address with which
to reach her. I feared she was ill."
Constantine turned to the window and stood there, look-
ing out into the narrow street, while Arkwright explained
matters to Monsieur Karamiev. He accompanied the two
men to the mortuary and waited outside for them, but he
had little doubt now as to what the result of their visit
would be.
One glance at the Russian's face when he emerged was
enough. The identity of the victim of the Eccleston Square
murder was established at last.


r
NINE
CHAPTER
Monsieur Karamiev had gone back, considerably shaken,
to his hotel.
"So much sorrow in her life and at the end, this," he had
muttered, wiping the tears unashamedly from his eyes.
Constantine watched the obese figure and queer, rolling
gait of the Russian as he hurried on his way, blowing his
nose sonorously on a gaudy check handkerchief.
"That is a good little man," was his comment.
Arkwright, his hands deep in his overcoat pockets, was
staring at the pavement at his feet.
"It takes a lot to stir my imagination nowadays," he said
slowly, "but that woman in there has got me thinking. It's
a queer story, isn't it? God knows what her father was, but
the chances are that she was brought up in a respectable,
middle-class home. Semi-detached villa in the suburbs;
chapel-going parents; Monday's washing hanging out in the
back garden, and all that sort of thing. Could anything be
duller and safer? Probably went on the stage in search of a
bit of excitement, met this Russian chap, married him and
found herself playing the great lady among the richest and
gayest people in the world. I don't suppose she'd ever even
imagined anything like it. And then the crash. Karamiev
said she was at breaking point when he met her. And then,
just at the moment when she must have felt safest, this vile
129


13o
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
business! I'd like to get my hands on the beast that did it!"
Constantine's eyes hardened.
"Do you know," he said, "this is about the first time I
have found myself envying you your job. I wish I could see
a light anywhere in this puzzle!"
Arkwright kicked a piece of orange peel savagely into
the gutter.
"It's all too damned geographical for my taste," he
growled. "This Chinese knife business, then Cattistock,
with his Chinese connection; Miller, with a past that covers
South Africa, Switzerland and, for all we know, Germany.
And now this woman and her Russian antecedents, as if
things weren't complicated enough already! We've got
enough to choose from!"
"And Miller's the link," insisted Constantine doggedly.
"Don't forget that. His wife was the first victim and this
woman was on her way to stay with him when she was
killed."
Arkwright grunted.
"I'm beginning to think kindly of the American third
degree," he said morosely. "I'd give a good deal to make
him talk. He's got to produce a satisfactory reason why he
kept back the fact that he had never met this Abramoff
woman and I'm off to get it!"
He found Miller out. Bloomfield, the secretary, received
him. His manner was courteous, but he gave the impres-
sion of having detached himself with difficulty from his
work to deal with the detective and, on the arrival of his
employer, ten minutes later, vanished with unflattering
celerity. Bloomfield had been discretion itself when Ark-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
wright turned the conversation to Madame Abramoff. Mrs.
Miller had mentioned her once or twice and he understood
that she had invited her to stay in the house during the run
of the performance at the Parthenon, with a view to saving
her expense, as she had lost all her money in the Russian
revolution. Asked whether Mr. Miller had ever met her, he
said he could not say, but that, unless she had been in Eng-
land lately, it was unlikely, as, with the exception of an
occasional business visit to Amsterdam and Paris, he had
not left this country since his marriage in nineteen twenty-
seven.
Miller, when he came in, was palpably ill at ease though
he tried to hide his discomfiture with an assumption of
annoyance that crumbled slowly before Arkwright's curt
officialdom.
"I can give you ten minutes, Inspector," he snapped, with
a glance at his watch. "Unfortunately, my time is not my
own."
Arkwright sat down uninvited, his feet planted firmly,
his huge hands on his knees, policeman written all over
him.
"We have identified the murdered woman, Mr. Miller,"
he announced briskly.
Miller ceased drumming impatiently with his fingers on
the table and stared at him.
"Ah, the unfortunate creature in the mortuary," he said
vaguely. "I had forgotten for the moment. My poor
wife .. ."
"Your wife's friend was a Madame Abramoff, I think,"
continued Arkwright inexorably.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Miller bowed.
"That is so," he admitted.
Arkwright leaned forward.
"Mr. Miller," he said. There was a new ring in his voice
now. "Why didn't you tell me when we were at the mor-
tuary that you had never met Madame Abramoff?"
Miller's face exhibited blank amazement.
"But surely you knew that. I thought I had given you to
understand that I had never seen my wife's friend. I
merely told you at the mortuary I could not identify the
murdered woman."
"You gave me to understand that you had never seen
her, but I've reason to think that you deliberately withheld
the fact that Madame Abramoff was unknown to you.
Had you any reason to suspect that this woman might be
Madame Abramoff?"
A mottled flush crept under Miller's thick skin.
"Aren't you taking a good deal for granted, Inspector?"
he retorted acidly. "A woman is found murdered in the
streets of London and, by pure chance, I happen to be ex-
pecting a lady from Paris on the same evening. Can you
suggest any reason why I should have jumped to the con-
clusion that these two people were identical? If I omitted to
tell you that I had never actually met Madame Abramoff,
I can assure you that it was only because the fact did not
strike me as relevant."
"You had no reason to fear that any ill might have be-
fallen this lady?"
"What possible reason could I have for suspecting such
a thing? Does it not strike you as possible, Inspector, that


i}6
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
that Madame Abramoff happened to be putting up at this
house rather than at a hotel."
Miller wrung his hands together.
"I wish I could think there is none, but Lottie was my
wife and Madame AbramofI her friend. Isn't that enough?
And, according to the papers, Vera Abramoff died in the
same way as my poor Lottie!"
He paused, staring at Arkwright with dilated eyes.
"That second knife you showed me . . ."
Arkwright nodded.
"I told you at the time where we had found it," he said.
"I knew then that some influence was at work against
me," groaned Miller. "Are the police doing nothing? Do
you propose to allow these crimes to continue?"
"If you wish to lay hands on the murderer, Mr. Miller,"
answered Arkwright bluntly, "it is up to you to tell us any-
thing that may have any bearing on the case. It is to your
own advantage to be frank with us. Is there nothing, no
matter how trivial, that you can think of that might estab-
lish a connection between these two cases?"
"There is nothing, nothing, I tell you! I have already
given you all the information I possess. You cannot expect
me to do your work for you. If the police are incompetent,
I am not to blame, but I demand to know what you are
doing. Have you made any progress whatever, Inspector?
After all, my wife has been brutally murdered and I have
a right to ask."
"I am afraid I cannot discuss the case, even with you,"
said Arkwright, as he rose to go. "But I suggest that you


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
«37
think it over, Mr. Miller. If there is anything you have to
tell me, you know where to find me."
He left the house more firmly convinced than ever that
Miller was concealing something that he was either afraid
or unwilling to tell the police. That the information he had
brought him was no news to him he was certain and yet
he could have sworn that Miller, when he saw the body at
the mortuary, had been under the impression that it was
not that of Vera Abramoff and that he was speaking the
truth when he insisted that he had expected her by a later
train. Had he merely put two and two together after read-
ing the newspaper reports of the second murder or had
something happened in the interval to convince him that
the victim was Madame Abramoff? Then there was the
question of the letter, which he had been more than ready
to produce. That it was genuine seemed indisputable, and
yet Karamiev had assured him that there had never been
any suggestion that the troupe should travel by a later train.
Owing to the fact that they were burdened with scenery
and various theatrical properties their arrangements had
been made well in advance and there had never been any
intention of altering the time-table. Madame Abramoff
had never expressed a desire to travel alone, and, he was
sure, had not intended to do so. And yet she had written
from Paris announcing her intention of coming by the
later train.
Arkwright called at Karamiev's hotel on his way back to
the Yard and interviewed him once more. The Russian was
able to produce several specimens of Madame Abramoff s
signature and had often seen her handwriting. After in-


138
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
specting the letter to Mrs. Miller he gave his opinion that it
was genuine, but again expressed his conviction that she
had never intended to travel by the later train. He was able,
however, to clear up the mystery of her luggage. A large
theatrical dress basket had gone through the Customs with
the rest of the baggage of the troupe and was at present in
one of the dressing rooms at the Parthenon. At Arkwright's
request he accompanied him to the picture theatre and
pointed out the dress basket to him. Presumably Madame
Abramoffs keys had been in the missing hand bag, but
Arkwright had little difficulty in forcing the lock and get-
ting the basket open.
He examined the contents and, at the bottom of the
trunk, found a large accumulation of old letters, pro-
grammes, photographs, etc. These he took back to the Yard
with him.
He went through them carefully, only to find that there
was little to be gleaned from them. Mrs. Miller's letters to
her she had evidently destroyed and there was no mention
of her or of any of Mrs. Abramoffs English connections
among her papers. It looked as if she had lost sight of her
people during the years she had lived abroad and, without
the help of her passport, it would be difficult to get in touch
with them, even if anything were to be gained in that di-
rection. Arkwright compared her handwriting with that of
the Miller letter and was forced to the conclusion that the
latter was genuine.
Constantine, meanwhile, had gone straight back to his
flat on leaving the mortuary. He was met by Manners with
the news that a lady had called during the afternoon. She


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
139
had left no name, but had expressed herself as very anxious
to see him and announced her intention of coming again
later in the day.
"Very worried she seemed, sir, at finding you out," volun-
teered Manners. "She wouldn't leave a name, but said she'd
take her chance of finding you."
"What kind of lady, Manners?" demanded Constantine,
knowing from experience that Manners' judgment was to
be relied on.
"Very nice, sir. Very nice indeed. Not at all the kind
of lady to be collecting subscriptions. You'll be having your
bath now, sir?"
Constantine intimated that he would and undressed
slowly to the sound of running water. He had barely got
into the bath, however, before Manners knocked at the
door with the information that the lady had returned.
Constantine, more mystified than annoyed, sacrificed his
usual quiet hour with a book and dressed hurriedly.
He was astonished to find Mrs. Vallon waiting for him.
"But this is delightful," he exclaimed, with perfect truth.
"You will let Manners mix you a cocktail?"
"I'm full of apologies," she declared. "I have just realised
that I must have interrupted the one quiet moment of your
day. I ought to have telephoned."
"And spoiled a most pleasant surprise! I'm glad you
didn't!"
Her smile was very charming.
"You're making it too easy for me," she said, "but, all
the same, you are wondering why I have come. The truth
is, I had an impulse this afternoon and then, when I found


140
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
you out, I felt I must see you. Now I'm here, I feel a little
foolish."
"My feeling, on the contrary, is entirely one of gratis
tude," Constantine assured her. "At this hour of the day
I know myself to be an old man. If it were not for you, I
should be dropping off to sleep over a book, a delightful
sensation when one is young, but humiliating and ominous
at my age."
He was interrupted by Manners with the cocktails. When
he had gone Constantine cast a whimsical glance at his
unexpected guest.
"That was a more subtle compliment than you realise,"
he said. "I was just about to order these. When Manners
brings them of his own accord it means that he thoroughly
approves of my visitors. And Manners is a potent factor in
this household, let me tell you. He said, by the way, that
you were not at all the kind of lady to be collecting sub-
scriptions! He has all the well trained servant's snobbish
dislike for charitable enterprise!"
Mrs. Vallon laughed, but her eyes were distrait. Constan-
tine knew that she was aching to broach the reason for her
visit and was finding it difficult.
"It is curious that we do not know each other better," he
went on, more to give her time than for the sake of con-
versation. "We must have nearly met so often in the past."
She leaned forward impulsively.
"You are a good friend of Richard's, aren't you, Dr.
Constantine?" she demanded.
"And of yours, I hope," he added quietly.
She flashed a grateful glance at him.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"Thank you," she said. "I mean that, you know. I have
an idea that soon Richard and I may need all the support
our friends can give us. Dr. Constantine, they say that you
have some influence at Scotland Yard. Is that true?"
"I'm afraid it is a gross exaggeration. I know the As-
sistant Commissioner rather well and I have several good
friends among the police, but that is all."
"But you hear things, don't you? Is it true that Richard
is under suspicion?"
Constantine did not try to evade the question.
"In connection with the Miller murder, you mean?" he
said. "I think perhaps that is putting it too strongly. I
suppose I ought not to give away official secrets, but, as a
matter of fact, the police have another, very definite suspect
in view. I will say this, though. I could wish that Richard
had not chosen just that particular moment to leave Dav-
enport's waiting room."
"But you don't believe he could possibly have done such
a vile thing?"
"I don't," answered Constantine, with conviction.
"You know they've been bothering him? He's been ques-
tioned and his servants have been got at. Richard's not a
patient person and I'm so afraid he'll put himself in the
wrong with the police. And yet it's so obvious to anyone
that knows him that he couldn't be anything but innocent.
Can nothing be done about it, Dr. Constantine?"
"If you mean as regards the police, any attempt to inter-
fere with their activities would be the gravest mistake,
from our point of view. Arkwright has got the case in hand
and he's scrupulously fair in his methods. He's a good


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
M3
Richard ought to tell you, though, seeing that you are in
touch with the police, I don't know whether it will help
or hamper you. You are the only person who can judge of
that and, without Richard's permission, I would rather you
did not hear it from me. May I ask him to come to you?"
"I can assure you of one thing," answered Constantine.
"I do not consider myself by any means bound to pass on
everything I hear to our friends at New Scotland Yard.
And I should feel a great deal happier if I could get a
square look at the bogey that has been lurking in the dark
corners of my soul for the last few days!"
She rose and began to draw on her gloves.
"You have laid some of my bogies, I think," she said,
with a little laugh that broke suddenly in the middle. "I
shall sleep better now that I know you are on his side.
Richard is such a dear fool and when his back is up he's
capable of any idiocy. If I can persuade him, he will come
to you and, if I can't make him do that, I shall make him
understand that I intend to tell you myself. The worst of it
is, he's so unreasonable, bless him. He's furious at what he
calls the interference of the police and yet I can't make him
see that there is any real danger."
"Send him to me," agreed Constantine, with more
cheerfulness than he felt. "It won't be the first time I've
spoken my mind to Richard, you know! And, for both your
sakes, may I say how glad I am that you decided to come
and see me?"
She had not been gone ten minutes before the telephone
bell rang. Arkwright was at the other end.
"Davenport has just rung up," he said. "He's heard from


»44
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Cattistock! Got a polite note from him by this evening's
post making an appointment for tomorrow! He's in a
nursing home! What price our fugitive, fleeing from jus-
tice, now?"


CHAPTER
TEN
The revolving doors of the Hotel Pergolese led straight
into the lounge. Arkwright had hardly passed through
them before he recognised the original of the photograph
he had been carrying about with him so assiduously seated
in a wicker chair reading the identical copy of "Esmond"
that had been found beside his bed by the police on their
first visit.
At the sight of the little, white-faced, sandy-haired man,
who looked as if the torrid Eastern sun had sapped what
little vitality his meagre frame had ever possessed, Ark-
wright recalled Mrs. Miller, vast and domineering and still
retaining, in spite of years of soft living, the muscular
vigour of her type. Cattistock would have been helpless
as a rabbit in her hands and, as his eyes fell on him, Ark-
wright saw his case against him crumbling ominously.
At the sound of his own name the little man raised a
pair of gentle blue eyes from his book.
"I am Mr. Cattistock," he said courteously, "but I don't
think I have the pleasure of your acquaintance."
Since his painful interview with the dentist he had
mastered at least some of the difficulties of enunciation, but
the effort entailed made his words sound curiously prim
and pedantic.
Arkwright introduced himself and the little man's
pinched features relaxed into a smile that, owing to his
145


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
complete lack of front teeth gave him somewhat the air
of a very sophisticated baby.
"The manager told me that you had been enquiring
for me," he said. "He gave me the impression that the mat-
ter was one of some importance and I was intending to
call at Scotland Yard first thing tomorrow morning to in-
form you that I had returned to the hotel. If it were not
for the fact that I have been unwell and am still in the
doctor's hands I should have done so this evening."
Arkwright did not tell him that, not only had the man-
ager rung up the Yard within five minutes of his return,
but that one of his own men had reported his presence in
the hotel and had been keeping him under observation
ever since his arrival.
"I understand that you have been laid up ever since
your visit to the dentist on Monday last," he said.
Cattistock once more inflicted his toothless smile on him
and Arkwright's lips twitched in spite of himself. So long
as his mouth was closed the little man bore himself with
a certain prim dignity, once it opened he had the aspect
of some fantastic, fairy-tale changeling.
"I have had a very distressing experience," he said. "The
dentist was not in any way at fault and I am afraid I have
only my own unfortunate constitution to thank for what
happened. I had had several teeth extracted and was on my
way back to this hotel when my gums began to bleed so
badly that I became alarmed and called on a doctor who
had treated me for malaria when I first returned to Eng-
land. He did his best to stop the haemorrhage, but it per-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
M7
sisted, in spite of his efforts, until early on the following
morning. I was so weak from loss of blood that I was only
too glad to comply with his suggestion that I should go
into a nursing home that night and, on his advice, I re-
mained there until all danger of a return of the trouble was
over. Owing to severe attacks of fever in the past my heart
is not all it should be and it was only today that I was
able to leave the home and come back here."
"I take it, then, that you have not seen the newspapers
for the last few days?"
Mr. Cattistock gave what in other circumstances would
have been a wan smile.
"I must confess I had little inclination to read. I was
feeling so ill that I even omitted to inform this hotel of my
whereabouts, thereby causing you some inconvenience, I'm
^* afraid I shall have to ask you to give me the names and
reason you can have for wishing to see me."
"We are endeavouring to ascertain the movements of
everyone who was at forty-two Illbeck Street on the morn-
ing of Monday last and you are naturally on our list. I'm
V. afraid I shall have to ask you to give me the names and
addresses of the doctor and the matron of the nursing
home you mentioned, after that, should our enquiries prove
satisfactory, I think I can promise you that you will not
be troubled again."
Mr. Cattistock blinked at him in mild amazement.
"I hope this man, Davenport, has been doing nothing
irregular," he said apprehensively. "He was very strongly
recommended to me by the manager here, and I must say
the place seemed to be run on excellent lines. I observed


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
nothing unusual myself, though, I confess, I was hardly
in a condition to be very critical."
"If you had stayed a few minutes longer you would have
found yourself involved in something that, I am happy to
say, is still very irregular in this country. A patient whose
appointment came shortly after yours was very brutally
murdered in the dentist's consulting room."
Mr. Cattistock recoiled.
"By the dentist who extracted my teeth?" he gasped.
"He certainly struck me as somewhat callous, but. . ."
Arkwright laughed.
"The dentist had nothing to do with it," he said. "You
needn't worry yourself about him, his reputation is good
enough to stand even this nasty business. It was done while
he was out of the room and our job is to find out who did
it. That's why we have been concerning ourselves with
your whereabouts. Could you give me a rough idea of the
time you left Davenport's house and the hour at which
you arrived at the doctor's?"
Mr. Cattistock hesitated.
"I'm usually a fairly reliable person," he declared con-
scientiously, "but you must remember that I was more
than a little dazed that morning, indeed, as time went on,
I became too faint to realise anything very clearly, but, so
far as I can recollect, I must have left the dentist's house
somewhere about twelve o'clock. My appointment was for
eleven and, after he had finished with me, I sat for a time
in the waiting room. Then, as the bleeding grew worse, I
went to the lavatory to try to make myself look a little more
presentable. It grew so much worse there that I went


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
149
straight to the doctor's and I can remember noticing that
the clock in his consulting room said twelve twenty. I am
estimating the time I left the dentist's on that."
"I wish everybody was as conscientious as you are, Mr.
Cattistock," said Arkwright, with a smile. "Now can you
go one further and tell me what other patients you saw in
Davenport's house?"
Cattistock described Sir Richard Pomfrey, Mrs. Miller
and Mrs. Vallon with an earnest eye for detail.
"I sincerely trust that that good-looking man was not the
victim of this shocking affair," he concluded.
"Sir Richard? No, the victim was a woman, the large,
overdressed lady whom, from your description, I gather you
did not much like, Mr. Cattistock."
The little man's reaction was immediate.
"Dear, dear! The poor creature!" he lisped, in a voice
full of contrition. "It was heartless in the extreme of me to
have given that impression!"
He hesitated for a moment, then his natural honesty
triumphed.
"The truth is, I did not like her," he admitted. "But, as
I have said, I was feeling ill and perhaps a little morbid.
I certainly wished her no ill, poor woman."
"You saw no one else? Either coming in or going out?"
"I passed someone, an elderly man, on my way out, but
I could not describe him."
"You saw no one else? In the hall or coming out of the
lavatory?" insisted Arkwright. "We believe the murder
to have taken place between eleven forty-eight and twelve
five."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Before he left Arkwright questioned him more closely
as to his own movements.
"We found traces of blood in the lavatory," he concluded.
"Until now we were under the impression that they had
been left by the murderer."
Cattistock blushed.
"I'm afraid I was responsible," he confessed. "I know I
was driven to use a towel owing to the deplorable state of
my handkerchief and I no doubt left the basin in somewhat
of a mess. If I had not been feeling so ill, I should, I hope,
have been less inconsiderate."
Arkwright's main feeling was one of regret that Constan-
tine had not been present at this interview. The old man
would have appreciated every moment of it. As a matter of
routine he went straight from the hotel to the nursing
home Cattistock had just left. Here the matron corrobo-
rated his story. It was too late to get in touch with the
doctor that night, but Arkwright was under no delusions as
to what the result would be when he did succeed in inter-
viewing him. As a potential murderer, Cattistock was a
complete failure.
He said as much to Constantine when he dropped in to
the Club to snatch a hasty meal before returning to the
Yard.
"He's an absolute wash-out. A queer little chap, but he
wouldn't, and couldn't, hurt a fly. He saw the murderer,
all right, though."
Constantine listened while he described the interview.
"And that leaves us, where?" was his comment at the
end.


152
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"Pretty much where we were at the beginning," admitted
Arkwright, with a wry smile.
"With Richard as your only hope?"
"I'm sorry," said Arkwright, and Constantine knew that
he was speaking the truth. "He had the opportunity, he's
an old acquaintance of Mrs. Miller's and I fancy the motive
won't be too difficult to find."
"In fact, he's got everything but the mental and moral
equipment necessary for the murder," concluded Con-
stantine drily.
"You might say that, superficially, of a dozen murderers.
It doesn't alter the fact that they did do the job."
"My knowledge of Richard's character is not superficial.
He's hot-tempered, even violent, in anger, but utterly in-
capable of cold-blooded brutality. Apart from which, what
motive can you possibly assign to him? To begin with, his
association with Lottie Belmer was never of an intimate
nature. She can have had no possible hold over him."
"You admit that if she had, she might have used it to her
own advantage?"
"From what I have heard of her, I think she might,"
agreed Constantine.
"Miller kept her short of money and she was hopelessly
extravagant. If it was a question of hard cash, I don't fancy
she would be too scrupulous. And, if what one hears
about Mrs. Vallon is true, this is the last moment that Sir
Richard would wish for any kind of scandal."
"Mrs. Vallon isn't a young, romantic girl," objected Con-
stantine. "She's a sophisticated woman of the world and
she must have heard a good deal of what was common


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
«55
"To clear Richard, seeing that you're too pig-headed to
accept my point of view," snapped the old man.
After Arkwright had left him Constantine rang up his
friend, the Greek jeweller, at his private address and asked
him if he could ascertain for him which of the West End
firms had been specially favoured by Sir Richard Pomfrey
in his more palmy days. Half an hour later the old jeweller
telephoned to him to say that he had rung up various
friends of his in the trade and had found his man almost
immediately. He gave Constantine the name of a firm in
Bond Street with which Sir Richard had at one time
dealt almost exclusively. If Constantine cared to call there
the proprietor would see him himself and give him any
information he required.
By ten o'clock next morning Constantine was in a private
room behind the shop in Bond Street. The proprietor, a
man almost as old as himself, had known Sir Richard for
years, though of late he had not dealt with him. He re-
membered the great days of the Pagoda and sent his
clerks for the ledgers that covered the period of Sir Rich-
ard's connection with the theatre.
"Did he ever bring Lottie Belmer here?" asked Con-
stantine.
"It's curious you should ask that," answered the jewel-
ler, with a reminiscent smile. "I was talking to my head
clerk here only yesterday about her. We were discussing
her death and found ourselves raking up old memories.
She was the daughter of a piano tuner out Wandsworth
way, did you know that? The old man's still alive and
appeared at the inquest, I believe. So far as I can remember,


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Sir Richard only brought her here once. I happened to be
in the shop myself that day and it's an occasion I'm not
likely to forget."
Selecting one of the ledgers, he flecked over the pages.
"I can place it fairly accurately," he murmured. "It must
have been just about a week before Derby Day."
He ran his finger down a page and gave a little exclama-
tion of triumph.
"That's what I'm looking for," he exclaimed. "Here it
is. Diamond star brooch, twelve points, to be delivered to
Miss Lottie Belmer, Pagoda Theatre, tonight without fail.
Sir Richard Pomfrey's account. That's the only time he
ever got anything from us for her. There was a strong
counter-attraction at the time, you know, and I don't mind
admitting to you, sir, that we did well out of that!"
"I quite see that her tragic death must have brought Lot-
tie Belmer back to your mind, but you will forgive me for
asking whether this remarkable performance is the result of
an incredibly efficient system of book-keeping or is merely
an astounding feat of memory on your part," enquired
Constantine, with pardonable curiosity.
The jeweller laughed.
"I hoped you would appreciate it," he said. "The truth
is, I'm hardly likely to forget that visit of Sir Richard's!
He gave me a tip for the Derby that day that brought me
in fifteen hundred pounds. I'm not a betting man as a
rule and when I do back a horse I invariably lose my money.
That Derby Day will remain in my memory till the end
of my life!"
"The brooch wasn't paste, I suppose?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
»57
"Paste? Not for Lottie, sir! There was very little she
didn't know about diamonds, even in those days. That
brooch cost Sir Richard a cool five hundred!"
Constantine walked back through the Green Park to his
flat. After Manners had relieved him of his hat and coat
he stood for so long staring into space that that faithful
guardian of his comfort began to grow anxious.
"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" he asked.
Constantine glared at him.
"You can't tell me, I suppose, why a man should sud-
denly give a woman in whom he has never shown the
slightest interest a brooch worth five hundred pounds?"
"No, sir, I'm afraid not, sir," answered Manners im-
perturbably.
Arkwright rang up in the course of the morning.
'That diamond thing that Sir Richard gave Mrs. Miller
wasn't Palais Royal," he said. "Very much the reverse. I've
had a look at Miller's insurance policy and it's listed as be-
ing worth six hundred and fifty pounds."
It is to Constantine's credit that he answered Arkwright
in his silkiest voice and then replaced the receiver quite
gently on its hook. He had seldom spent a more aggravat-
ing morning.


CHAPTER ELEVEN
Constantine, still suffering from a severe attack of what
he described as spiritual indigestion, betook himself to his
Club. But before leaving his flat he rang up Mrs. Vallon.
"No sign of Richard yet," he said. "How are you getting
on at your end?"
A sigh was wafted gently over the wires.
"He's being difficult," she answered. "His attitude is that
the police can go to Hell for all he cares."
"You might point out to him that they certainly won't
go anywhere at his bidding and that he, just as certainly,
will go to prison at theirs if he refuses to see reason."
"I did that for a solid hour last night and, when I'd
finished, he told me that I was overwrought and nervy and
that what I needed was a good, long day in bed or a whiff
of sea air! If I'd hit him, as I felt inclined to do, he'd merely
have said I was hysterical. I'm not sure that I wasn't!"
"If hysteria will do the trick, use it!" Constantine admon-
ished her shamelessly. "Seriously, I am relying on you to
send him to me as soon as possible."
He deliberately chose the Club's prize bore to lunch with
and did his best to keep the conversation on Vallon and
the Pagoda girls. But, beyond fully justifying his reputa-
tion, the man, a garrulous egotist, looked like giving little
in return for Constantine's patient endurance. Being a snob
of the first water, he took no interest in the Miller murder,
158


VIURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
and Lottie Belmcr, who at best, had been an unimportant
member of the Pagoda galaxy, he had never considered
worthy of his notice. Sir Richard he could gossip about and
did, but, after the manner of his kind, he had only man-
aged to amass those facts that were already common prop-
erty. Owing to an unhappy blend of inaccuracy and dis-
cursiveness even these lost all zest in the telling. Constan-
tine was already regretting this lost venture in Sir Rich-
ard's cause when, at the end of a long and depressing list
of the casualties that had befallen the bulk of the young
sparks of his day, his companion casually let fall one ster-
ling piece of information.
"Phipps tells me that he saw Richard Pomfrey with one
of the old Pagoda girls the other day. Lottie Belmer, it was.
Never knew her myself, but he appears to have recognised
her. Says she had grown fat and coarse. They all do, cur-
iously enough. I remember seeing . . ."
He prattled on unheeding. Constantine shook him off
as soon as possible and went in search of Phipps. He found
him in the library, his broad, florid face flushed with the
unwonted exertion of putting pen to paper.
"What's that? Hubbard told you? Well, he was right
for once. It was this way. My wife arranged to meet me
at the Futurist Galleries, of all ghastly holes, and of course
she was late, so I toddled round and had a look at their
funny pictures. Of all the rubbish! However, that's neither
here nor there. Anyway, who should I see, jammed up
next to a fat woman on one of those sofa things, but Rich-
ard 1 Looking pretty sick he was, too, I can tell you.


1IjO
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Thought he'd been lugged there by one of his rich aunts
or something of the sort and I was having a quiet chuckle
to myself over it when I caught sight of the woman's face.
Blessed if it wasn't old Lottie Belmer! She'd put on a bit
of flesh since the Pagoda days, but she was unmistakable.
She and Richard had got their heads together, going it
hammer and tongs, so I sheered off. Shouldn't have thought
of it again if it hadn't been for what happened two days
later. Seemed to bring it home to one, somehow, seeing
her like that and then hearing that she'd been done in. At a
dentist's too, of all places. Seems to make it worse, what?"
Constantine agreed that it did and drifted gently but
firmly away. The news he had just heard, disquieting
though it was, merely confirmed his suspicion that Mrs.
Miller had got some hold over Richard Pomfrey and had
decided to put the screw on shortly before her death. That
she had applied it at least once, long ago, he shrewdly sus-
pected, unless the diamond brooch had been the result of
a wager, the only other convincing explanation he could
think of.
Constantine was well known to most of the London
picture dealers and, when he strolled into the Futurist Gal-
leries, the secretary hurried to meet him with a hopeful
gleam in his eye. This Constantine, in his most urbane
manner, proceeded to extinguish.
"I'm not buying today," he said. "The truth is, I find my-
self a little old for this sort of thing, interesting as it un-
doubtedly is. You will see me next month, however, if the
advance notice you sent me is correct. At the moment I'm
in search of a little information."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
The secretary cast a deprecating glance at a nude which
the artist had innocuously camouflaged as a cooked beet-
root, expressed himself as entirely at Dr. Constantine's
disposal, and supplied him with a specimen of the New
School of furniture, the object of which seemed to be to
discommode the sitter as much as possible. Constantine
fitted himself cautiously into it.
"Did you or any of your bright young men know Mrs.
Miller by sight?" he asked.
The secretary's eyes lit up with interest.
"The poor woman who was murdered?" he exclaimed.
"I'm afraid I can't help you. One of our assistants is at
lunch, but I can send for the other if you like, though I
doubt if he has ever seen her. Was she interested in this
sort of thing?"
Constantine's eye lingered for a moment on the walls of
the gallery.
"Not greatly, I should say," he said, with a solemnity
that would have delighted Arkwright. "We won't bother
your assistant for the moment. Can you carry your mind
back to the afternoon of the twelfth of this month?"
"Our opening day? Certainly."
Choosing his words carefully, Constantine described Sir
Richard and Mrs. Miller. He was, he felt, pursuing a for-
lorn hope, but the gallery was a small one and the secre-
tary, trained to observe and canvass possible buyers, could
hardly have failed to notice anyone so patently opulent
as Mrs. Miller.
"These two people were here for some time, I believe,"
he concluded. "They probably met by appointment and cer-


16a
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
tainly sat talking for some time on one of these abominably
uncomfortable seats. I should doubt whether they looked
at the pictures at all."
"They sat on this seat," answered the secretary surpris-
ingly. "I remember the lady well. She looked just the sort
of client we hope to attract and I admit I was disappointed
when I realised that she had not come with any intention of
looking at the pictures. She and the man with her were
deep in conversation for a long time and they left the build-
ing together."
"Did the conversation strike you as being friendly or the
reverse?" asked Constantine.
The secretary hesitated.
"They were not quarrelling, though the lady struck me as
being annoyed. I had an impression that she was getting
the worst of it. Until they actually left the building I didn't
give up hope of doing a deal with her and there was no
one else in the gallery at the time who looked in the least
promising, so I gave a good deal of attention to her. Was
she really Mrs. Miller, Dr. Constantine?"
"It seems more than likely that she was. You inspected
her pretty closely, I gather, so you ought to know," said
Constantine, with a smile.
"The only portraits published by the Press were old ones,
taken in her chorus girl days," pointed out the secretary.
"They conveyed nothing to me when I saw them but, now
that you've put the idea into my head I can quite imagine
that she might have grown into the woman I saw. A Press
photograph isn't exactly helpful as a means of identifica-
tion."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Constantine cast a mischievous glance at the beetroot
nude.
"You find this sort of thing more inspiring perhaps," he
enquired politely.
The secretary laughed.
"Strictly between ourselves, I am less to be blamed than
pitied," he answered. "I do my best to sell these, but I
don't buy them. May I give you my frank impression of
Mrs. Miller's interview with the man who was with her?"
"That's precisely what I've come to hear."
"Frankly then, I concluded that the man had tired of
her and that she was doing her best to get him to take
her back. In the end I believe she went so far as to threaten
him."
"What makes you think that?"
"From the only sentence that I overheard. I was crossing
the room and passed close to them. I caught the words
'Scotland Yard' and involuntarily pricked up my ears. It
was followed by 'rather than submit to anything of the
sort' or words to that effect. They left almost immediately
afterwards. Mrs. Miller, if it was Mrs. Miller, looked pretty
poisonous and I remember wondering whether there wasn't
going to be a first-class row on the pavement outside."
Constantine rose stiffly.
"If they sat for long on one of these instruments of tor-
ture," he said drily, "their conversation must have been an
engrossing one. I am very grateful to you and should be
still more so if you would keep what you have told me
to yourself for the present. If it got about it might involve


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
the table and followed Constantine into the room, looking
so like a sheepish schoolboy who has been caught red-
handed that it was all the old man could do to keep the •
amusement out of his voice as he turned on him and
launched his attack.
"Did Mrs. Vallon give you a message from me?" he asked
abruptly.
Sir Richard looked acutely uncomfortable.
"She suggested that I should see you," he answered, with
an attempt at bravado. "But as the matter did not seem ur-
gent .. ."
He caught a withering glance from Constantine's dark
eyes and the sentence tailed off into silence. The years
seemed unaccountably to have rolled away and, to his dis-
gust, he found himself slipping back into the attitude of
futile defiance which, in years gone by, had failed to carry
him through many a painful interview with his elders
and betters.
"Won't you sit down, sir?" he said awkwardly, as the
silence grew oppressive. Constantine ignored the invitation.
"Are you going to treat me as a friend or an enemy,
Richard?" he demanded, with more ferocity than he felt.
There was something absurdly disarming about this well-
groomed, florid giant who, for all his years, still retained
so much of the clumsiness and naivete of a boy. "I've put
myself out considerably to see you today and it rests with
you whether I have wasted my time or not."
Sir Richard shifted his feet uneasily.
"I'm sorry you had all this bother, sir ..
Constantine cut him short.


166
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"You've got yourself into a devil of a mess," he snapped.
"What do you propose to do about it?"
Sir Richard flushed a deep red. For a moment it seemed
as though the interview was going to terminate swiftly and
violently. Then he controlled himself.
"I think you can trust me to manage my own affairs, sir,"
he said with ominous quietness.
"You are no longer in a position to control them," Con-
stantine assured him. "In a few hours' time the police will
have charge of both you and your affairs and the only per-
son at liberty to do anything will be your solicitor. I don't
envy him."
"If the police are such damned fools as to lay their hands
on me . . ." began Sir Richard.
"The police are not damned fools. That's where your
danger lies. They've got a sound case against you, so sound
that, if I did not know you, I should be convinced of your
guilt myself. It's because I do know you that I've come
here today. It so happens that I am in a better position to
help you than any other of your friends. I, at least, know
exactly how you stand in the eyes of the police and, if you
decide to pocket your pride and behave like an ordinary
human being we still have time to map out some sort of
defence before they act. Are you prepared to meet my offer
reasonably or do I leave you now and wash my hands of the
whole business?"
Constantine's words fell slowly; cold, biting and con-
temptous, but behind them burned an anger so sudden
and so un-English that Sir Richard's hot-headed bluster
collapsed before the shock of the encounter. He had never


168
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
prove it, I'll have the coat of! the back of the fellow who is
in charge of this!"
Constantine's voice, following on his outburst, was cold
and smooth as ice.
"If they fail to prove it, you will be discharged. No satis-
faction will be given you and, in the meanwhile, your pri-
vate affairs, as you call them, will have been dragged,
wholesale, into the open, torn to pieces, examined and com-
mented on. You will have to sit helpless while every sort
of construction is placed on them and, by the time the trial
is over, there will not be a shred of your private life that
is not common property. Is this your conception of digni-
fied reticence? That is all you will gain by these heroics.
Suppose you drop them and give me a clear account of your
dealings with Mrs. Miller. Have some pity, Richard, and
grant me the privileges of a friend instead of making me
feel like the front row of the stalls at a cheap melodrama!"
This sudden and whimsical twist at the end of a furious
tirade produced just the effect he had counted on. A slow,
deprecatory smile broke over Sir Richard's face.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I suppose I have been making a
bit of an ass of myself, but it's no fun to have one's old
follies raked up and served on a salver for a lot of fools to
gape at. I always did jump first and look afterwards and
now it seems I've got to pay for it. What, exactly, do you
want to know?"
"Where and when this business started and to what
extent it involves you in the Illbeck Street affair."
"I fail to see why it should involve me in any way," ob-
jected Sir Richard stubbornly, "but, if you say so, I'm ready


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR 169
to take your word for it that the situation is serious. The
■whole thing started, roughly speaking, about a month ago.
I hadn't seen Lottie Belmer for years when she came up to
me one night at the Savoy and asked me if I didn't re-
member her. As a matter of fact, I didn't at first. We had
a chat, a half sentimental, good old days, sort of business.
She told me about her marriage and asked me to call and
I tried to get out of it as politely as possible. I'd never liked
her and time certainly hadn't improved her. As a matter of
fact, I never did go to her house, but, after that, though I
did my best to dodge her, she seemed to be continually
cropping up. I know there was one big charity show at
which she fastened onto me and I literally couldn't get rid
of. her. It never occurred to me that she had anything up
her sleeve. Frankly, knowing she'd married money, I
thought she had social aspirations and was looking to me
to further them. Then I got a letter from her, saying that
she was in a devil of a mess and wouldn't I advise her what
to do. There was a good deal about old lang syne and the
happy old days and that sort of thing in it and she finished
up by asking me to meet her at this Futurist place and talk
things over. I shouldn't have smelt a rat even then if she
hadn't alluded to something that happened years ago and
which I'd every reason to believe was over and done with.
The last thing I wanted was ever to see her again, but I
went. She was out of money, of course, but I'll do her the
justice to admit that she tried hard to get a loan out of me
before showing her hand. She'd got a letter I'd written
years ago to Nancy Conyers and was keeping it up her
sleeve as a last resource. When I told her the truth, which


170
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIt
was that I wasn't in a position to lend my best friend a
farthing, she offered it to me for a consideration."
He paused, his florid face growing several shades pinker.
"It was a damn silly letter," he burst out at last. "Every-
one knows I made an ass of myself over Nancy and I sup-
pose I was luckier than I deserved when she gave me the
push and married Selkirk, but I only hope no one gave me
credit for the sort of drivel I managed to put on paper in
the course of that affair! It was the sort of stuff that comes
out in breach of promise cases, utterly nauseating when
you meet it later in cold blood. We'd got idiotic nicknames
for each other and all that sort of thing. It makes me hot
to think of that letter now. When she found she couldn't
get the money in any other way she threatened to send the
letter to Mrs. Vallon unless I could see my way to lending
her a cool thousand. Lend was the word she used all
through the interview. It was a pretty maddening situation.
There was nothing much to the letter except that I was
head over ears in love with Nancy when I wrote it and, as
I said, it was such confounded drivel 1 At best I should have
felt a consummate fool if it got into Mrs. Vallon's hands
and, naturally, she was the last person I wanted to read it.
Half a dozen years ago, if the situation had been the same,
I might have paid up and have done with it, but, as things
are, I should be hard put to it to lay hands on the money.
As a matter of fact, I'm cutting down expenses and getting
things straightened up, before settling down for good.
Mrs. Vallon's agreed to take me on, you know," he finished,
with an embarrassment that made him look more absurdly
like an over-grown schoolboy than ever.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
171
"Delighted to hear it. You've got my heartiest congratu-
lations," Constantine assured him, concealing his feelings
admirably. To be side-tracked with so stale a piece of news
at this juncture was annoying, to say the least of it. Sir
Richard continued, showing, in the process, how little he
still realised the seriousness of his position.
"We're hoping to get married next month and, if any-
thing should happen to me I want to leave her something
better than a pile of debts to carry on with. You can imagine
how I felt when, just as I was trying to set my house in
order, Lottie Belmer came along and tried to upset the
apple cart. I'd every reason to feel sick with her, too. She'd
let me down pretty badly, considering that she'd had her
little whack years ago and the whole matter was dead and
buried, as I thought."
Constantine looked up sharply, the light of comprehen-
sion in his eyes.
"At the price of a diamond brooch?" he suggested.
Sir Richard stared at him.
"Now how the devil did you hear about that?" he de-
manded.
"My dear Richard, the whole of Scotland Yard knows
about it," snapped Constantine, goaded beyond endurance.
"For pity's sake, stop behaving like the proverbial ostrich
and, if it's in you, give me a clear account of your trans-
actions with Lottie Belmer from the beginning. How did
she get hold of this correspondence?"
"Through her dresser, who was a friend of Nancy's
maid. The fact is, they used me pretty ruthlessly between
them. I was a young fool and they knew it! As it turned


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
out, there were three letters, not two, as I thought. Lottie
got them from her dresser and held them over Nancy's
head. They always hated each other like poison and she
knew, what I didn't, that Nancy was all but engaged to
Selkirk and would have died rather than let them fall into
his hands. Nancy came to me about it and, seeing that I'd
written the letters and that she was worrying herself stiff
over them, I undertook to settle the matter. Mind you,
I'd no idea that Selkirk was in the running then. Well,
I got the two letters at the price of a brooch which Lottie
was to choose herself. I'm sure Nancy was under the im-
pression that those were the only two that were missing,
but, as it turned out, Lottie must have been keeping the
third back in case it came in useful. To do her justice, she
must have been in a pretty tight place before she decided to
use it. As far as the brooch was concerned, she was always
as greedy as they make 'em, but I believe she was actuated
by spite more than anything else then. This last time it was
different. She was out for hard cash and hoped to get it."
"I gather she did not get it?"
"She didn't. For one thing I hadn't got it, for another
I wasn't at all sure that she was speaking the truth when
she said that that was the only letter she had. I'd been stung
once, you see. If I paid her what she asked now there was
nothing to prevent her from turning up again with an-
other later. I told her to do her worst and even threatened
to go to the police, in the hope that she'd think twice about
using the letter. We parted outside the Gallery and that's
the last I ever saw of her, except for that glimpse we had
of each other in Davenport's waiting room. I was terrified


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
173
then that she'd recognise Mrs. Vallon and would say some-
thing. Fortunately Mrs. Vallon had no idea who she was,
but it was a nasty moment for me and I admit I felt pretty
sick about it, but not sufficiently so to follow her into the
consulting room and stick a knife into her."
For a moment Constantine was silent, aghast at the com-
pleteness of Sir Richard's case against himself, then:
"So that, if anyone was out to gain anything by Mrs. Mil-
ler's death it was yourself," he said slowly. "You realise
the construction that will be put on that?"
Sir Richard smiled cheerfully down at him from his
great height.
"Not a bit of it," he retorted. "I always was an unlucky
beggar! When she was killed, Mrs. Vallon had already read
the letter 1 I'd nothing to gain by Lottie's death—she'd sent
the letter to her directly after our meeting the day before!"


CHAPTER TWELVE
"The letter had already reached Mrs. Vallon," repeated
Constantine slowly. "Did you know it had been sent to
her?"
"Of course I did. I was dining with her and was there
when it arrived."
"Did she read it?"
Sir Richard nodded.
"She was amazing! Lord knows what I've done to de-
serve such luck! She didn't say anything. Just read it
through to the end. Of course I'd no idea what she'd got
hold of, but I looked up and saw her staring at me exacdy
as if she'd never set eyes on me before. Couldn't think what
was up. Then I saw the letter and recognised itl It was a
pretty awful moment! I didn't know what to say."
"What did you do?" asked Constantine. He had a con-
viction that, whatever it was, it would be wrong and won-
dered whether Mrs. Vallon's intuition had outweighed
Richard's notorious lack of tact. But he had done Sir Rich-
ard an injustice.
"I just stood there, looking as big an ass as I felt, I sup-
pose," he continued. "She didn't say anything, simply
walked over to the fireplace and read the thing right
through again. Then she did the most extraordinary thing."
"Well?" prompted Constantine impatiendy.
"She laughed," Sir Richard informed him, in awestruck
i74


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
*75
tones. "Not a nasty laugh. As if she was really amused.
She said: 'How old were you, Richard, when you wrote
this?' And I knew it was all right."
"I confess I should like to have seen that letter," mur-
mured Constantine reflectively.
"You can't. We burned it. Of course, we talked things
over a bit and I told her about my meeting with Lottie
Belmer. That's why I got the wind up when they ran into
each other at Davenport's. As soon as Lottie saw us to-
gether she must have known she'd made a mess of things.
She looked furious and I was terrified for a moment that
she was going to let herself go, not about this business, but
about Vallon. She could have, you know, if all I've heard
was true and I'm not sure she wouldn't have, just to get
her own back, if Davenport's man hadn't come for her just
in time."
When Constantine left Sir Richard he drove straight to
Scotland Yard, where he was fortunate enough to find
Arkwright. He told him what he had just learned.
"You must admit that that pretty well disposes of any
motive for the murder," he concluded. "Mrs. Miller had
already shot her bolt and failed."
"It weakens our case against Sir Richard," assented Ark-
wright, "but there still remains the fact that he possessed
both the knowledge, which we agreed was necessary, and
the opportunity."
"I refuse to admit the knowledge," objected Constantine.
"He was not on intimate terms with Mrs. Miller and cer-
tainly did not expect to see her at Davenport's."


176
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CH.
"We have only his word for that. He could have known
of the time of her appointment either from Davenport or
his man and he was undoubtedly familiar with the dis-
posal of the rooms on that floor of the dentist's house."
"And the fact that the nature of Davenport's work on
her denture would necessitate his leaving her alone in the
consulting room? Do you suggest that he was aware of
that?"
"He may have simply awaited his opportunity. I'm not
saying that, so far as I myself am concerned, I am not
coming round to your point of view or that, at present
we have sufficient evidence to act, but we cannot afford to
disregard Sir Richard altogether yet. It would have bees
better for everybody if he had been frank with us in the
beginning."
"It would be better for Richard if his first impulse was
not always that of an impetuous fool," agreed Constantine
tartly. "All the same, you must admit that I've gone at least
part of the way towards establishing his innocence."
Arkwright grinned.
"You've succeeded in tying my hands a bit tighter," he
retorted, but there was no malice in his voice. "But, while
you're about it, I wish you'd go a little further, sir, and
find the murderer for us. If you could make anything of
the inscriptions on those knives it would be a beginning."
He went to the safe and opened it. Constantine watched
him.
"What about those notes you got from the garage pro-
prietor?" he asked suddenly. "One of them was stained,
I think you said."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
those misguided people who never touch intoxicating li-
quor?" he remarked in his most urbane tones.
Manners's expressionless eye became if anything more
glassy. Though he never allowed himself more than an
occasional glass, he was fully aware of the excellence of his
master's port.
"I believe in moderation, sir," he admitted with dignity.
"I wonder if you would feel inclined to practice it on the
other side of the Green Park? I'm not casting aspersions on
your favourite house of call, merely suggesting that you
should repeat your very able performance of last year,
when, if you remember, you beat the police at their own
job."
A ripple passed over Manners's countenance. For a sec-
ond he looked almost animated.
"The matter of the window cleaner?" he suggested re-
spectfully.
"Precisely. While the police were still engaged in taking
notes you rounded him up and got my silver salver back
for me. I haven't forgotten the neatness with which you
pulled off that job, Manners."
Even Manners was not proof against so calculated and
graceful a piece of flattery.
"We should have won our case if you'd cared to make a
charge against him, sir," was all he said, but the note of
gratification in his voice was unmistakable.
"It was on your recommendation that I didn't," Constan-
tine reminded him, with a quizzical gleam in his eyes.
"The man had a good record, sir. If it hadn't been for
that I shouldn't have taken the liberty."


18o
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Mr. Miller save his very unpleasing personality, but I'm
going on the principle of leaving no stone unturned."
"I will do my best, sir. Would it be possible to ascertain
the names of the persons in question?"
Constantine telephoned to the Yard and had no difficulty
in getting the required information.
"Remember I want all the gossip. The more, the better,"
were his parting directions, as he added Miller's address to
the names of the two servants.
His next act was to ring up Davenport.
"I'm sorry to bother you at the end of a long day's work,"
he said, when the dentist had, with difficulty, been per-
suaded to come to the telephone himself. "But can you tell
me who owns the empty house next door to you? I have
my own reasons for asking. Your own landlord? No, it
doesn't matter about his name. I can get that from the
agents if you'll put me onto them. Thearle and Thearle.
Yes. By the way, has that house been done up lately, do
you know? A couple of months ago. Thank you. I'm very
grateful. No, I'm very well satisfied where I am, but a
friend is interested."
Next morning he called on Messrs. Thearle and Thearle.
He had heard through Mr. Davenport of a house in Illbeck
Street that he thought might suit him and he understood
that it was in their hands. Messrs. Thearle's urbane young
man said that it was. If it hadn't been for the fact that rents
were high in that part of the world and times bad they
would have disposed of it long ago. As it was, they could
offer it at a comparatively low rental. Would Dr. Con-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
181
stantine like to look over it now? He had already risen
when Constantine stretched out a detaining hand.
"I'm afraid I haven't made myself clear," he said briskly.
"I'm not interested in the rental. I want to buy. From some-
thing Mr. Davenport said, I concluded that the house was
for sale, or I shouldn't have approached you about it."
The agent's face fell, but he acknowledged defeat slowly,
after the manner of his kind.
"I couldn't persuade you to go over it, I suppose?" he
urged. "I think we might persuade our client to consider
a slight reduction in rent if the house met with your ap-
proval. We can strongly recommend it and if, after you
have seen it, you feel inclined to change your mind . . ."
Constantine cut him short ruthlessly.
"Unless you can persuade your client to sell, I am not
interested."
"We could approach our client," said the agent doubt-
fully, "but I doubt whether we should be successful. He
purchased four houses in that block, including Mr. Daven-
port's about a year ago and it is unlikely that he would sell
again. We have several admirable properties on our books,
suitable for the medical profession, if you would care to
consider them."
He was assuming that his visitor was a doctor of medi-
cine and Constantine did not undeceive him.
"I've set my heart on Illbeck Street," he said, with con-
vincing finality, "and I shall be leaving for the Continent
in a day or two. I suppose, as time is short, you could not
put me in touch with your client? I might be able to per-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
suade him to sell. I need not say that all future negotiations
would, of course, be conducted through you."
"I'm afraid I cannot even give you his name," answered
the agent. "All our negotiations have been through a firm
of solicitors. We could put you onto them, of course."
Constantine shook his head.
"No good," he said. "I haven't time for that sort of thing.
Unless I can get in direct touch with the owner I must give
up the idea. It is a pity. If the house suited me I should be
prepared to make a good offer."
The agent, seeing the chance of a profitable deal slipping
through his fingers, made a final effort.
"We could approach the solicitors," he suggested. "In
the event of their being willing to negotiate, how long
could you give us?"
Constantine looked dubious.
"I've had too much experience of the dilatoriness of law-
yers," he said. "If you can give me the name of the actual
owner of the property this evening I will undertake to
approach him myself. If I can persuade him to sell I
will communicate with you."
Leaving his address with the agents he was about to
depart when he paused as though a sudden idea had struck
him.
"By the way," he said, "I understand that these houses
were redecorated not long ago. If this deal goes through I
may want to arrange about certain alterations in a hurry.
Can you recommend the firm that did the work?"
The agent could and was only too ready to supply the
name: Dicks and Hoskins, Quebec Street. Constantine


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
183
thanked him and, placating his conscience with the
thought of all he had suffered at the hands of house agents
in days gone by, went back to his flat and rang up Ark-
wright. He was not at the Yard and it was late in the after-
noon before Constantine could get onto him.
Arkwright was aggrieved.
"Look here, sir," he complained, "those inscriptions may
be in Greek, but they're absolutely meaningless. If you've
made anything of them . . ."
"I haven't. When I do I'll let you know. Meanwhile, I've
a job here that your people can do far more quickly and
efficiently than I can. How goes the official conscience?"
Arkwright's disappointment was reflected in his voice.
"That hardly comes into it, sir," he said. "After all, we're
both working for the same ends."
"We are not, if, by that, you mean your case against Sir
Richard."
Arkwright chuckled.
"You can only upset my apple-cart by producing the
murderer," he pointed out. "We're willing enough to help
you there, sir."
"This may be a step on the way, it's true, though I don't
guarantee any results."
"Good enough. What do you want us to do?"
"Get in touch with a firm of decorators named Dicks and
Hoskins and run your rule over the men who were em-
ployed in redecorating that empty house in Illbeck Street.
The keys must have been in their possession for a con-
siderable period."
There was a pause, then, ruefully:


184 MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"You've got us there, sir. An ordinary routine job we
ought to have seen to. I'll get onto it and let you know the
result. Anything else?"
"Nothing at present."
Constantine replaced the receiver with a sigh. Arkwright,
with a fixed object in view, was in a better case than him-
self. It had amused him to score over him, but he had been
speaking only the truth when he admitted that the inscrip-
tions on the knives conveyed as little to him as to the po-
lice. He had sent Manners on his quest on the vague chance
that, if Miller were concealing something, his servants
might let fall some clue as to its significance. As for the
empty house, it was a forlorn hope at best. Even if the
murderer had make his escape that way, there was no
reason to believe that he had had any previous connection
with it. A window left unlatched by a careless painter would
have given him the means to enter and he could have left
by the front door in the ordinary way.
The knowledge that he had thought it worth while to
waste a large portion of his day on the empty house only
served to increase Constantine's sense of his own futility,
and the return of Manners with his report did not tend to
raise his spirits, though, in the time, the man had performed
wonders. He had spent the hours between tea and dinner
in visiting the bars of various houses he described as "well
spoken of" and had succeeded in locating the one patronised
by Miller's butler. Though he had not seen the man himself
he had established relations with the landlord and had
found no difficulty in getting him to talk about the murder.
The man, proud of being in possession of information


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR 185
straight from the horse's mouth, as it were, had passed on
all that Miller's butler had told him. That Miller had been
at his office at the time of his wife's death, there seemed
no doubt. One of his clerks, who had called at the house
since the murder, had told the butler that he was actually
in the room with him at the time it had taken place. The
whole of the domestic staff, including Mrs. Snipe, had been
in the house all the morning. The secretary had been seen
by the butler to enter the Square with the dog, and a small
girl, whose nurse was an acquaintance of the butler's, had
played with the dog while it was in the Square. In fact,
the butler had been talking to the nurse when the secretary
returned to the house. Evidently the crime had been dis-
cussed exhaustively, in all its aspects, in the bar of the
public house, many times before Manners came on the
scene.
"That was the best I could do, sir," he finished. "Would
you wish me to see Mr. Miller's man personally? I have
ascertained when he is to be found there and, as it appears
that he is a keen billiard player, I should have no difficulty
in approaching him, being fond of a game myself."
"How did the landlord's account strike you?" asked Con-
stantine.
"Very reliable, I should say, sir. The police had been
questioning Mr. Miller's man and he seems to have re-
peated his conversations with them to the landlord, with
a bit extra, on his own, as it were."
"In fact, if anything, we now know a little more than the
police," suggested Constantine.
"Exactly, sir. It is unfortunate that it all points the same


CHAPTER THIRTEEN
]
Arkwright swung round the corner into Shepherd's Market
and barely escaped a collision with two men who were
walking in the opposite direction. He flashed a swift, ap-
praising glance at them, stopped dead in sheer amazement,
then, with a delighted chuckle, pursued his way. He had
come within an ace of bowling the irreproachable Manners
into the gutter and the companion with whom Manners
was progressing sedately along the pavement was none
other than Miller's rather raffish looking butler.
His amusement was enhanced by Manners's reaction to
the meeting. For the first time in their acquaintance Ark-
wright saw his imperturbability badly shaken. At the sight
of the detective his hand went involuntarily to his hat,
then, realising that Arkwright must be well known to
Miller's servants and that he would be severely hampered
in his task if they suspected him of any connection with
the police, he stiffened. The uncertain, almost appealing
glance he threw at the detective as he passed on, cutting
him deliberately, was a comedy in itself. Arkwright was
quick to grasp the significance of the encounter. So Con-
stantine was on the job! If there were to be any results,
he would no doubt arrive at them, he reflected rather rue-
fully, realising that Manners was in a far better position
to collect stray gossip than any of his own men.
He was on his way to Miller's house. Having failed to
187


189
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
discover anything of interest among the murdered woman's
possessions he had asked Miller to go through his wife's
papers on the chance of there being old letters of Vera
Abramoff's among them. The jeweller had promised to do
so and now Arkwright, realising that two days had gone by
with no word from him, had decided to see to the matter
himself. He had telephoned to Miller's office to find that
he was not expected there that day and actuated by that
indefinite feeling of distrust with which the jeweller had
begun to inspire him, had decided not to warn him of his
coming but to take his chance of finding him at home.
As he approached the house a man who had been walk-
ing ahead of him turned up the steps and rang the bell.
Arkwright instinctively slackened his pace, preferring to
wait until the coast was clear. He saw the door open and
Miller's secretary, Bloomfield, on the threshold. There was
a short colloquy, then Bloomfield handed something to the
man, went back into the house, and closed the door. His
visitor ran down the steps and walked briskly along the
Square ahead of Arkwright, carrying the object Bloomfield
had given him, a large white envelope, in his hand. Ark-
wright quickened his steps once more, only to be brought
again to a halt by the reopening of the front door. The
secretary emerged, wearing a hat and a heavy overcoat,
shut the door gently behind him and, with a rapid, curi-
ously furtive glance at the windows of the house he was
leaving, followed hurriedly in the wake of his late visitor.
Ordinarily speaking there was nothing out of the usual
in the whole transaction, and, had it not been for Bloom-


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
189
field's manner, Arkwright would not have given it a second
thought . As it was he was sufficiently interested to follow
the secretary until he turned the corner and stand watching
the two men as they made their way down the narrow side
street
.
Bloomfield did not attempt to diminish the distance be-
tween himself and the man he was following, neither did
he make any endeavour to attract his attention, and Ark-
wright watched with increasing interest as they continued
on their way until, halfway down the street the front man
turned into a small post office. Bloomfield, in his wake,
peered for a moment through the glass of the office door,
then went in.
His back had hardly disappeared before Arkwright was
off the mark and, a few minutes later, he, in his turn, had
his nose pressed against the glass of the post office door.
There were several other customers grouped in the con-
stricted space in front of the counter, but he could see his
men clearly enough. The first was bending over the narrow
ledge that served as a desk for those unfortunates who
might be driven to use it, and was engaged in tying up and
sealing the envelope Bloomfield had given him, obviously
unaware of the presence of that gentleman, who stood be-
hind him, shamelessly peering over his shoulder. Arkwright
took advantage of his absorption to slip through the door
and into the solitary telephone booth that stood at Bloom-
field's elbow. Leaving the door ajar and keeping his back
turned he buried his nose in the Directory and waited. The
moment he had hoped for soon arrived. Some movement of
Bloomfield's must have warned the other man for he


1go
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
swung round with a swiftness that caught him utterly un-
prepared.
"Na yer don't!" he snarled. "Follerin' of me, was yer?
Think yerself clever, I suppose. Well, yer can tike yerself
orf, see? Yer can foller me to every post orfice in London,
but yer won't see me address this parcel. I got plenty o'
time on me 'ands. And now I've spotted yer I know what
to do with it!"
Then, as Bloomfield did not answer:
"Well, what abart it?"
Bloomfield remained silent and Arkwright, realising that,
at this juncture, he would hardly have eyes for anyone but
his companion, turned until he could see him clearly
through the glass door of the booth.
He watched the secretary unbutton his coat, take a bundle
of notes from his pocket and count out five of them onto
the ledge at the man's elbow. Keeping his hand on them
he echoed the other's words.
"What about it?"
A slow grin spread over the man's face.
"What d'jer think?" he jibed. "I've got my whack comin'
to me, all right, and don't you worry. I've only got one
thing to say to you. You 'op it, mister. It's no manner o'
use yer follerin me, no matter what yer got in yer pocket."
Bloomfield spoke again.
"I'll make it ten if you give me that address."
The other's only answer was to thrust the envelope into
his pocket, keeping his hand on it.
"Orl right, smarty," he jeered, settling his back more


MURDER. IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
191
comfortably against the shelf and crossing his legs. "'Ere
we are and 'ere we stays."
For a moment Bloomfield glared at him with baleful
eyes, then, seeing himself beaten, swung round, pushed his
way through the little crowd round the counter and van-
ished. The other man watched him off the premises, gave
him time to get away, then, with a wary eye on the door,
busied himself once more with the envelope.
Arkwright waited till he had finished laboriously print-
ing the address before he stepped out of the booth. The
man, having nothing to fear from that quarter took no heed
of him and when a huge hand descended on the envelope
his consternation was such that he could do no more than
make a feeble snatch at his property. Arkwright's other
hand closed on his like a vise.
"Oy, what jer doin'?" squealed his victim.
Arkwright surveyed him and beheld a square-shouldered,
pug-nosed youth of about twenty. His clothes were neat,
shoddy, and altogether atrocious, but he bore none of the
earmarks of the habitual criminal. Arkwright turned the
hand he held palm up and looked at it. Bending forward
he sniffed the air appreciatively.
"Potman, aren't you?" he demanded.
"What's that to you? 'And over that there parcel!"
Arkwright caught the eye of the post office clerk goggling
at him through the wire netting over the counter. He took
a step nearer to her, dragging his captive with him.
"It's all right, Miss," he said in a low voice. "I'm a police
officer."
At the words, the wrist he held gave a convulsive twitch


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
193
"Goat and 'Orns, Tallow Street, Battersea."
"Name?"
"'Arry 'Oover. You got it wrong, mister. There ain't
nothin' against me. Mr. Proctor, of The Goat and 'Orns'll
speak for me."
Arkwright ignored the outburst. He held out the en-
velope.
"How did you come to be fetching this? I want the whole
story."
"All through me offerin' to do a favour. That's what
comes of bein' soft! It's the last time, I can tell yer!"
Arkwright glanced at the inscription on the envelope.
"This man, Edward Parker, who is he?"
"Chap as I met in the bar. Honest I don't know nothin'
more about 'im than that."
"How did you come to take on this job, then?"
"'E come in three nights ago and asked me to meet 'im
after closin' time. We went for a walk together and 'e said
as how 'e wanted someone to do an errand for 'im. Said
'e'd make it worth anyone's while. So I offers to do it.
That's all I got to do with it."
"What were your instructions?"
"I was to go to the 'ouse and see a cove as would give
me a letter. Then I was to address the letter and register it,
like you see me. I don't know no more than that."
"Why couldn't you take the letter to Parker yourself?"
"Dunno. I reckon 'e was afraid of me bein' follered. 'E
told me 'e didn't want no one to know 'is address."
"What were you to get for this?"
"Arf a crown and me fare," answered Hoover glibly.


194
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAR
"Yet you refused a tenner because you'd got your whack
coming to you! Not good enough, my lad. You'd better
come clear. How much were you to get if the deal went
through?"
Hoover's unsteady eyes sought the window, as though
for inspiration. None came, and, with his weak mouth ob-
stinately closed, he sat hunched, in silence. Arkwright
leaned forward, his hands on his knees.
"Want me to tell you what happened?" he said. "Parker
told you he'd got the goods on Bloomfield and was going
to bleed him, but he didn't want to collect the money him-
self. He gave you a chance to stand in if you'd do the
collecting. You were to send the money by registered post
and keep away from him, for fear Bloomfield might follow
you and find out where he hangs out. That right?"
Hoover shifted uneasily in his chair. He was beginning
to waver, but his fear of Parker was still paramount.
"You can't make me say nothin'," he muttered sullenly.
"I know me rights. You ain't even warned me."
"I haven't warned you because you're not under arrest,
yet," answered Arkwright sternly. "I've got a right to hold
you for twenty-four hours before I charge you. What you
get when I do charge you depends largely on how you be-
have now. If you come clear I'll undertake to speak for you
when the time comes. I'm giving you your chance. How
much was Parker to get out of Bloomfield and what was
your share?"
Hoover leaned forward suddenly.
"Looke 'ere, mister," he said earnestly. "You can't fix
this on me. I ain't never 'eard of any Bloomfield. I don't


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
>9S
know what's in that there letter, but it ain't from anyone
of that name. You're on the wrong track, mister."
A sudden light of comprehension dawned in Arkwright's
eyes.
"Was Charles Miller the man you were to see?" he de-
manded.
Hoover's face gave him away though he tried to bluster.
"I don't know what you mean . . ."
Arkwright cut him short.
"Very well, then, if you prefer it."
He pressed a bell on his desk and waited in silence till
a constable appeared in the doorway. Then, jerking his
head in the direction of Hoover:
"You can take him," he said curtly. "I'm holding him till
we pull in his friend."
Hoover's eyes were fixed glassily on the constable. The
sight of him had shattered what little nerve he had left.
He clutched at the table convulsively.
"I'll tell what I know," he babbled. "I ain't done no 'arm,
mister."
At a gesture the constable vanished.
"Get on with it," said Arkwright. "What's in this en-
velope?"
"Eight 'undred pounds there should be. I ain't looked."
"How much were you to get?"
"Fifty."
"What for?"
"Leavin' the letters and fetchin' the answers. And puttin'
of 'im off if 'e tried to foller me."
"Whom were these letters addressed to?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
«97
"Ugly lookin' chap about my size."
"Clean-shaven?"
"Yes."
"Hair?"
"Brown, turnin' grey."
"Complexion?"
"White. Pastiest lookin' chap I ever see."
"Any distinguishing marks?"
"Not as I know of."
"Right. We shall have to detain you. If Parker corrob-
orates your story I'll do my best for you."
He pressed the bell again. Hoover rose from his chair.
"I say, mister, you'll see 'e don't get 'is 'ands on me.
TE'd 'alf kill me if 'e knew."
Arkwright reassured him.
"You'll be safe enough here and, when you get out, he's
not likely to be in a position to annoy you."
Taking a plain clothes detective with him he went direct
to Parker's address in Battersea. There would be time
enough to tackle Miller when he had got his man. The job
proved easier than he had expected. Parker was lying on
his bed in his shirt and trousers and was taken completely
unawares. If he possessed a weapon he had no opportunity
to lay his hands on it, but there was a look on his colourless
face as he silently hitched himself into his coat that made
Hoover's attitude easily explainable. He never betrayed him-
self by look or gesture or opened his lips from the time of
his removal from the frowzy room in which they found him
till his arrival at the Yard, but Arkwright had an impres-
sion of seething emotion rigidly kept in check for so long


198
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIX
that the repression had become part of the man's nature, j
His face was a mask in which only the eyes, hot and tor-
mented, seemed alive. His voice, when Arkwright, in tit
seclusion of his room, tried to break through the barriers
of his reserve, was toneless and hardly above a whisper.
That he was a much better educated man than Hoover
was apparent as soon as he opened his lips.
Arkwright confronted him with the letter.
"This is addressed to you," he said. "Have you anything
to say about it?"
Parker's lips barely moved as he answered.
"Nothing."
"We have reason to believe that it contains money paid
to you as the result of certain letters from you to a Mr.
Miller. What was in those letters?"
"If Mr. Miller has complained to you he no doubt told
you what was in them," was the answer.
"Am I to take it that you refuse to answer?"
"I've a right to keep my correspondence private if I
choose. If Miller cares to bring the matter into court I can
defend myself."
"Mr. Miller is on his way here. I'm giving you your
chance before he comes."
Parker's thin lips did not smile, but his eyes were de-
risive.
"I've nothing to say."
Arkwright had him removed and rang up Miller's house.
He was still out and was not expected back to lunch, but
the secretary was in and announced his readiness to come
to the Yard immediately. Arkwright was hanging up the


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
201
him at a moment's notice. He will not be at the office to-
day. Is there anything I can do for you in his absence?"
"The matter concerns both you and Mr. Miller. To begin
with, this is your property, I think."
Arkwright held out the envelope.
Bloomfield stared at it, then thrust out a quick hand to
take it, but Arkwright evaded him and replaced it on the
table in front of him.
"I think not, Mr. Bloomfield," he said drily. "We will
keep this for the present, if you don't mind. Am I right in
assuming that it contains money?"
Bloomfield hesitated. Arkwright could see that he was
thinking rapidly.
"Well?" he continued briskly. "When I tell you that we
have two men in custody here in connection with this letter
you will realise the necessity for being frank with us."
Bloomfield settled himself more comfortably in his chair.
"I fail to see what bearing my private correspondence can
have on the matter," he said, at last, with a hint of inso-
lence in his voice.
"This hardly comes under the head of private corre-
spondence," said Arkwright. "From certain information I
have received I understand that you were acting for Mr.
Miller in the matter. As the result of certain letters which
passed between him and one of the people we have de-
tained he agreed to pay this man a sum of money. I am
asking you whether this letter contains the sum in ques-
tion."
Bloomfield nodded.
"It does," he said coolly. "What of it?"


202
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Arkwright eyed him narrowly.
"Blackmail is a criminal offence in this country, Mr.
Bloomfield," he said slowly. "If Mr. Miller is wise, he will
refuse to submit to it. We shall ask him to charge these
men and, once he has done so, he can rest assured that his
name will be kept out of all subsequent proceedings. In
the meantime, I am ready to listen to any statement you
may care to make. Anything you say here will be treated
as confidential."
Bloomfield's answer was to rise slowly to his feet. He
picked up his hat and stood looking down at the Inspector.
"I am sorry, Inspector," he answered, with every appear-
ance of regret, "but I really know nothing about the mat-
ter. My instructions were to place a certain sum of money
in an envelope and hand it to a messenger who would call
for it. With that my duties ended."
"Was it in pursuance of your instructions that you fol-
lowed the messenger and endeavoured to bribe him into
giving you the address of the man to whom the money was
being paid?"
For a moment the man was startled out of his equa-
nimity. Arkwright saw his hands clench and then relax as
his quick brain raced in an effort to cope with this unex-
pected development. Then he evidently realised that frank-
ness was his best policy.
"I hope you will not find it necessary to report this to
Mr. Miller," he said earnestly. "It would cost me my job
if it came to his ears. I was a fool to do such a thing, but
practically all Mr. Miller's business deals go through my
hands and this was the first time he had not taken me into


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
203
his confidence. I am afraid I yielded to curiosity and tried,
very stupidly, as it turned out, to find out what he had not
told me for myself. I intended no disloyalty to Mr. Miller."
"And you were willing to pay for your curiosity to the
tune of ten pounds?"
Arkwright's voice was frankly incredulous. Bloomfield
reddened, opened his lips to answer and was silenced by the
clamour of the telephone bell. Arkwright put the receiver
to his ear.
"Send him up," he said. Then, turning to Bloomfield:
"Mr. Miller has arrived. He found your message waiting for
him and came straight on. Now perhaps we shall get to the
bottom of this business."
Bloomfield's distress at the news was so acute that Ark-
wright felt almost sorry for him. He craned over the table,
his prehensile nose within an inch of Arkwright's face.
"Inspector," he gasped, "this means a lot to mel Let me
tell him later in my own way of the part I have played in
this. If he hears from you that I followed this man, I am
done for."
"If Mr. Miller charges these men," said Arkwright, "you
will have to give a more convincing explanation of your
part in the affair than you have given me. All I can under-
take to do at present is to keep your name out of it until
you have had an interview with him. I will do that much,
if possible."
He rose as the door opened to admit Miller. The jeweller
had evidently lunched well and was in one of his more
affable moods.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAB
"Ha, Bloomfield," he exclaimed at the sight of his secre-
tary. "You here? What is all this about, Inspector?"
Arkwright told him briefly of the detention of the two
men and of Hoover's admissions, finishing up with a repe-
tition of the little homily to which he had already treated
Bloomfield.
"We are doing our best to put a stop to this sort of
thing, Mr. Miller," he finished, "but we can only hope to
be successful if we have the co-operation of the public
Should you decide to prosecute, you will figure as Mr. X.
in the subsequent proceedings and we will undertake that
your name shall be kept out of the matter altogether."
Miller stared at him as though he could hardly believe his
ears, then, for the first time, Arkwright saw him smile, and
was irresistibly reminded of one of those ivory figures of
the more amiable Chinese deities. The smile broadened,
as though Miller was slowly digesting his own private joke.
"But this is funny," he said, at last. "It would give me
pleasure to oblige you, Inspector, but I am afraid I cannot
bring any charge against these men."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
309
Miller. "Once I had satisfied myself that he could deliver
the goods and that the article had been come by honestly
I considered that I had taken all necessary precautions. In
my profession one has to take certain risks. Owing to the
circumstances, the deal was an exceptionally good one from
my point of view and, if I had refused to negotiate, Parker
would have taken his offer elsewhere."
"It seems a risky business to entrust to a stranger. Parker
had never carried through any such transaction for you
before, had he?" suggested Arkwright, deftly leading him
on to the admission that was to be his undoing.
But, even as he spoke, he knew he was too late. He saw
Miller's hand close with a convulsive grip on the arm of
his chair and, following his eyes, caught them as they
rested for a fraction of a second on the passport that lay
beside Bloomfield's envelope on the table. He knew he had
only his own carelessness to thank for what followed.
Miller hesitated, then, with an admirable assumption of
confusion, told the truth.
"I am afraid I may have misled you as to my acquain-
tance with Parker," he admitted. "The man has been un-
fortunate and is trying his best to make a fresh start and I
was afraid if I told you what I knew about him it would
serve to prejudice you against him. But, as you have asked
the question, I must answer it. Parker was not unknown
to me, though I have never had any dealings with him in
this country. He was, however, in my employ in Cape Town
at one time and, until he was suddenly arrested for dealing
in stolen property, I had every faith in him. The most pain-
ful part of the whole affair to me was the fact that he had


210
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
used my business as a cloak to cover his transactions. He
was convicted and has already paid in full for what he did.
When he came to me I was glad to help him. Parker is not
his real name, by the way."
He had wriggled out of an awkward corner with amaz-
ing swiftness and dexterity. Not only had he been quick
to realise the probable significance of the passport, but,
handicapped by his ignorance of whether Arkwright had
heard of the Cape Town episode, he had neutralised it by
cleverly backing his horse both ways. If Arkwright knew
nothing he would naturally look upon Parker as the sole
culprit; on the other hand, should he be in possession of
the real facts, he could hardly blame Miller for telling only
a half truth. He had hampered Arkwright effectively, if
only temporarily, by a story which, he was bound to admit,
might be true, but which he viewed with the utmost scep-
ticism.
"May I have the address of this Swiss gentleman?" he
said. "And I'm afraid I must ask you to let me see the
letters that passed between you and Parker."
"My friend's name is Herr Oppenheimer, and his address,
7. Alpenstrasse, Berne. As regards the letters, I am afraid
I destroyed them on receipt of the pendant. My business
takes me occasionally to Italy and, should any details of the
affair leak out later, the less trace of my part in it the
better. Parker gave me his word that he would do the
same with my letters to him. I can show you the pendant,
of course."
"And the name of the original Italian owner?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
211
Miller drew himself up with a fine assumption of dig-
nity.
"That, Inspector, I am within my rights in refusing to
give you," he exclaimed, with some show of indignation.
"I have submitted meekly to questions which I might very
well have declined to answer and have succeeded in proving
to you that I have not acted in any way against the laws of
this country. But this Italian gentleman is in a very different
position. He is liable to prosecution if the truth leaks out in
his own country."
Arkwright nodded.
"I see," he said slowly. "I don't think I need trouble you
further, Mr. Miller. You have no reason to believe that this
man, Parker, or Greeve, bears any grudge against you, I
suppose?"
Miller stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Considering that I have just put a fat commission in his
pockets, certainly not. I should say he had every reason to
be grateful."
There was nothing for it, after he had gone, but to hand
the envelope to Parker, with as good a grace as possible and
then release the two men. Parker was cautioned that any
attempt to molest Hoover would meet with swift retribu-
tion.
"I've done with him," was his contemptous rejoinder.
"He's safe enough as far as I'm concerned."
Hoover plucked up sufficient courage to run after him
as he left the building.
"What about me money?" he was heard to say as Parker
shook him off.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"You said practically a replica. Could it have been this
one?"
Constantine bent over it once more.
"It might have been. As I said, I'm not a collector, so
I didn't examine it carefully. I do remember the price, as
the bidding was very hot and a friend of mine, who goes
in for this sort of thing, only dropped out quite at the end.
I don't know who bought it. The one I saw was an Apollo
with Lute and it was jewelled in much the same way.
More than that I dare not say."
"One could find out, I suppose?"
Constantine looked dubious.
"You might meet with success," he said, "but I'm afraid
it's not so easy as you would think. Christie's have no doubt
got the specifications and may know the present owner, but
it's not unusual to find replicas of these pendants and there
are some admirable forgeries in existence. This may very
well be a copy. So far as the present owner is concerned, he
may have bought it through an agent or it may have been
sold again, not once but several times, since it came up at
Christie's. It would be worth trying, however."
Arkwright repeated to him Miller's story of the pen-
dant.
"How does it strike you?" he asked, when he had
finished.
"It's clever," answered Constantine, with a mischievous
gleam in his eyes, "so clever that I can quite appreciate your
feelings! And it may be true. Such things do happen. The
worst of it is that it's perfectly in keeping with what we
already know of Miller. According to all accounts, he has


214
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
kept carefully on the right side of the law since he came to
England, no doubt as the result of the lesson he learned in
Cape Town, but a deal of this kind is exactly what would
appeal to him. He would safeguard himself in precisely the
way he described. But there is one thing that, in my opinion,
does not ring true."
Arkwright raised his eyebrows.
"There's a good deal, to my mind, but you know more
of the tricks of the trade than I do. Where's the hitch?"
"He's the last man, I should imagine, to hold out a help-
ing hand to Greeve, after what has happened. I should even
doubt his employing him, however advantageous the deal
might be to himself. His instinct would be to keep clear of
the man at all costs."
"Unless Greeve has some hold over him."
"Exactly. But we must take into account that, if Miller
is under the impressoin that no one in this country is aware
of the Cape Town scandal, Greeve is in a position to make
himself very troublesome. In view of Miller's business con-
nections here he may have found it worth while to buy his
silence."
"Meanwhile he's got us cold," assented Arkwright
grimly. "Our only course is to get what information we can
from this fellow, Oppenheimer, and he's probably hand
and glove with Miller. I'll try my luck at Christie's and
then send this thing back to Miller. Anyway, he's produced
a pendant, which is more than I expected!"
Arkwright's visit to the auctioneers turned out much as
Constantine had predicted. While admitting that the pen-
dant might have passed through their hands, they could


2l6
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
it pleasanter to disregard what the newspapers call 'the
human interest' and approach the thing as I would a chess
problem. For the last few hours I've been trying to keep
those two poor women out of my mind."
"For the last few hours?" queried Arkwright shrewdly.
There was no doubt about Constantine's gravity now.
"It is just beginning to dawn on me," he said, "that this
is a more abominable business than either of us suspected."
Arkwright stared at him.
"Miller?" he queried. "But he's definitely out of it. His
alibis are unassailable."
Constantine's lips curved, but his eyes did not lose their
sternness.
"That's where my problem becomes interesting," he re-
plied. "I went one step towards solving it this afternoon, but
I must admit that I don't see my way ahead yet. I came
for another look at those notes you got from the garage
proprietor."
Arkwright produced them and watched the old man as
he spread the soiled notes out in front of him and, with a
piece of green billiard chalk, proceeded to copy the stain
onto a clean pound note that he took from his case.
"Billiard chalk," he exclaimed. "It's an idea!"
"Say rather, a forlorn hope," amended Constantine. "A
good many things might have caused that stain, and
billiard chalk is one of them. I'm banking on the habit
many players have of keeping the chalk in their waistcoat
pockets."
"And the next step?" enquired Arkwright.
"I'll keep that to myself till I know whether it is a next


CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Constantine was still in bed when Arkwright rang him up
next morning.
"Shall I take the message, sir?" enquired Manners, who
was as fussy as a hen over his master and strongly disap-
proved of any form of exertion before breakfast.
Constantine, wide awake in an instant, raised himself on
his elbow.
"No, put him through to me here," he ordered, the
receiver already in his hand.
"I've got the information you asked for," Arkwright re-
ported. "Mrs. Snipe is a Roman Catholic and goes to Mass
every morning at seven. As luck would have it she men-
tioned the fact to my man, among about a thousand other
bits of extraneous information, and he caught her on her
way back this morning. She says Mrs. Miller never slept in
her denture. It was kept in a tumbler in the bathroom ad-
joining her bedroom. Mrs. Snipe does not know precisely
what went wrong with the denture, but her mistress was
very much annoyed as the damage prevented her from wear-
ing it and Davenport was unable to give her an appoint-
ment before eleven thirty. I gather that in consequence
Mrs. Miller was in a pretty bad temper all the morning
and Mrs. Snipe had to bear the brunt of it. Anyhow, plenty
was said about the teeth. Mrs. Snipe thinks Mrs. Miller
3l9


220
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
must have damaged them herself when she cleaned them
the night before, though she refused to admit this and
accused Mrs. Snipe of having dropped them when she
was preparing her bath in the morning. There seems to
have been something of a scene over it."
"The damage was actually discovered, then, on the morn-
ing of the murder?"
"When Mrs. Miller tried to wear the teeth, to be exact."
"Did anybody use the bathroom besides Mrs. Miller?"
"She and Miller shared it, but it has a second door open-
ing into the passage. When the door into Mrs. Miller's
bedroom was shut, any member of the household could
have entered the bathroom unperceived. Miller, apparently,
was not by way of using it in the morning. He always
shaved in his dressing-room. That's as much as she could
tell us. I see what you're driving at, but Miller's alibi still
holds, remember. And we've no evidence that he ever
touched the denture."
"We've no evidence against Miller at all, come to that,"
agreed Constantine, "but, if there is a crack in that alibi
we ought to find it. And why all these lies?"
"The man's naturally shifty. And he's afraid of the
police. If he was under the impression that we knew noth-
ing of that affair in Cape Town, it would account for a
good deal. By the way, he sent that secretary of his for the
pendant first thing this morning. I've a fancy he didn't
dare risk leaving it with us too long! Well, sir, you go your
way and I'll go mine. I'm not talking through my hat
when I say that I hope yours will prove the right one. I


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
221
sent a man down to Somerset House. What do you make of
that will?"
"It didn't surprise me altogether," answered Constan-
tine blandly, "though I shouldn't have credited Mrs. Miller
with an uncle called Isidor Marks! That peroxide hair was
misleading, though."
"Marks seems to have left a tidy sum of money. That he
should have made Miller Mrs. Marks' trustee seems natural
enough. After all, Miller was his niece's husband. You don't
suspect any irregularity there, do you?"
Television being still in its infancy Constantine's smile
was lost on Arkwright. His voice betrayed nothing.
"None," he answered blandly. "He probably looks after
the old lady's property admirably, though I admit I
wouldn't trust him with sixpence of my own. It's interest-
ing, all the same."
"It would interest me more to see the inside of your
mind. I've an inkling that you've got ahead of us some-
where, but I can't, for the life of me, make out where.
Where is the catch, sir?"
"There isn't one," answered Constantine, "if I seem se-
cretive it's because I don't see my way clearly yet. For your
comfort, I may tell you that I'm asking myself two ques-
tions, How and why? And I haven't got the answers yet
to either of them. Did you look up that firm of decorators?"
"Yes, and drew a blank. They're prepared to vouch for
all their men."
Constantine gave Davenport time to reach his consult-
ing rooms, then rang him up.
"I won't keep you a moment," he said. "Can you tell me,


222
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
in language adapted to the intelligence of the layman, pre-
cisely what was the matter with Mrs. Miller's denture?"
"Easily," answered the dentist. "It was quite simple and
the damage was not great, though the job required skilled
handling. The denture consisted of six front teeth, kept in
place by two gold bars which ran behind her own back
teeth. One of these bars had become so bent that it was
impossible for her to adjust the denture, much less wear it.
Gold being a soft metal, it was easy enough to bend it back
into position, but it needed careful adjustment. Is that
clear?"
"Quite. To remedy this you would have to have recourse
to the moulds you had taken of the patient's mouth, I
imagine?"
"Naturally, though, if the moulds had been broken or
mislaid, it would have been possible to do the work, using
the patient's mouth as a model. It would have been a slower
and more troublesome business, though. Fortunately, in
this case, the plaster mould had been taken recently and
was reliable. Plaster shrinks, you know, after a time."
"Any dentist, having the moulds, would have used
them?"
"Undoubtedly."
"How was the damage done, do you suppose? Could it
have happened when she was wearing the teeth?"
"Impossible. My own theory is that she either used too
much pressure in cleaning them, which is unlikely, as the
force used would have to be considerable, or she dropped
them and stepped on them. She assured me that she had


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
done neither of these things, but, as you know, she was an
excitable woman and not very exact in her statements."
"If she kept them in a drawer and had caught them in
it in shutting it, would the effect have been the same?"
enquired Constantine guilelessly.
Davenport swallowed the red herring whole.
"That explanation hadn't occurred to me, but it would
account for it admirably. Have you any reason to think it
happened in that way?" he enquired with interest.
"It's not impossible," Constantine assured him, then
thanked him and rang off.
His next act was to ring for Manners, to whom he gave
the note he had doctored in Arkwright's room at Scotland
Yard, together with certain instructions which sent that
imperturbable person forth, dignified calm personified, but
with adventure in his heart. After he had gone, his master
settled himself by the fire, filled his pipe and, with curiously
mixed feelings, gave his mind to the progress he had made
during the last twenty-four hours.
The laws of coincidence are admittedly amazing, but
Constantine refused to believe that the injury to Mrs.
Miller's denture, an injury that would oblige the dentist to
leave her alone in the consulting room while he supervised
his mechanic's work, was due to an accident. Assuming
that the damage was done intentionally, it placed the mur-
derer definitely as a member of Miller's household, some-
one who was conversant with Mrs. Miller's habits and who
had easy access to the bathroom in which she kept the teeth
at night. This knowledge must also have extended to
Davenport's house and it seemed safe to argue that the


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
229
ber twenty-seven. Said he knew by the speedometer. Prob-
ably made a mistake in the mileage though. Anyway, as
he'd told him, he was only human and, with a fog like there
was that morning, he couldn't be expected to keep an eye on
a car right at the end of the line. But there hadn't been no
sense in telling the gentleman about it. Silly to give himself
away like that, just because anyone smiled pleasant and
seemed to enjoy a bit of a chat. Couldn't remember when
he'd done such a thing before. Captain Walker wouldn't
make no fuss, he was a good sort, he was, but this gentle-
man, a stranger and all! Might as like as not cost him his
job. Mumbling and grumbling the old man turned in at
his favourite pub, to derive what comfort he could from
the new ten shilling note that was burning his pocket.
Meanwhile, had he known it, the ten shilling note was
doing double duty, for the gentleman who had beguiled
him into indiscretion had been enjoying his money's worth
in his own way. Five minutes in the nearest post office,
with the help of the London and Telephone Directories,
had given him the number of Captain Walker's mother,
another five minutes in the telephone booth, with her butler
at the other end had supplied him with Captain Walker's
address and, less than half an hour later, he was interview-
ing that gentleman in his rooms in Duke Street. Captain
Walker had heard of Constantine though he had never
met him, and, when his visitor, with the most charming
courtesy begged for details as to the suspected use of his
car on a certain foggy morning, he was quite ready to
oblige him.
"Though what he was after, I don't know," he said


230
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
afterwards. "Said he'd got a pal at Scotland Yard and that
this might have some bearing on a case he was interested
in. My old Uncle Bill, who painted the town red with him
in the year dot, told me he'd taken to that sort of thing in
his old age. Anyway, he wasn't giving anything away and
he looked as deep as they make 'em."
Captain Walker's story amounted to this. On the morn-
ing of November the fourteenth, he had called on his
mother, leaving his car under the care of old Higgs, who,
incidentally, was a protege of his mother's and a very
decent, conscientious old chap. He was engaged with his
mother from, roughly, eleven o'clock till twelve forty-five,
when he came out of the house and collected his car. When
he got into it the first thing that struck him was that his
gloves and newspaper which he'd left on the driver's seat
had gone. He found them on the floor in the body of the
car. Being certain that he had not put them there himself
he had a look at the speedometer and found that, whereas
it had registered just under twenty-six miles when he left
it, it now stood at over twenty-eight. He could speak posi-
tively as to this as he had been testing the speedometer the
day before and was keeping a careful account of the mile-
age registered. He had spoken to Higgs about it, but, as
no damage was done to the car, he had let him off lightly.
"What with the fog and the old chap's game leg, one
couldn't exactly blame him, but I'll stake my oath that
someone had been joy riding," he finished. "This won't let
Higgs in for anything, will it?"
Constantine reassured him on this point and departed.
When he got home Manners was waiting for him. His


232
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
and Roper informs me that he made a point of keeping a
certain sum in hand for the purpose. Shortly after break-
fast on the morning of the murder Mr. Miller rang for him
and told him he wanted five pounds. Roper fetched the
money, which included the stained note he had been carry-
ing in his pocket. He saw Mr. Miller put the notes on the
writing table in the library and place a paper weight on
them. What he did with them after that he cannot say."
Constantine's eyes narrowed.
"Put them on the table, did he?" he exclaimed. "You're
sure he didn't stow them in a note case, or whatever it is
he carries? Or simply put them in his pocket?"
"Roper was quite definite about it, sir. The last he saw
of them they were under the weight on the table."
His eyes fell on Constantine's overcoat and, with a shock,
he came back to a realisation of his duties.
"Excuse me, sir," he murmured, as he helped him off
with it, then, with it hanging, neatly folded, on his arm,
he reverted to his role of amateur detective. "As regards
the identity of the note, sir, I think we can settle that to
your satisfaction. Roper tells me that he got it in settlement
from a bookmaker two days before. He mentioned the
name in passing and I made a note of it. He says it was one
of a batch and that he noticed they were all new notes. If
the bookmaker got them from his bank it may be possible
to trace the numbers."
Constantine nodded.
"It's worth trying, anyway," he said. "Your job or mine,
Manners?"
Manners coughed.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
333
"If you'll excuse me, yours, I think, sir," he submitted.
"An enquiry from you would, er, carry more weight."
Constantine glanced at the clock.
"Lunch time," he said. "We shan't catch him now."
Before turning to go to his room, he faced Manners
squarely, his hands in his pockets, a whimsical smile on
his face. He looked as if a load had fallen from his
shoulders.
"We're going to win this trick, Manners," he said
softly.
The prim line of Manners' lips relaxed. For a moment
he resembled a cat that has been licking cream.
"I was beginning to form that opinion myself, sir," he
murmured deferentially.
In his interview with the bookmaker Constantine made
shameless use of Sir Richard Pomfrey's name, but he did
not mention Roper. According to his story, Sir Richard
was anxious to trace certain notes that, he believed, had
been paid out by the bookmaker on November the twelfth.
As he had foreseen, Sir Richard's name proved an Open
Sesame in that quarter and when he went on to drop a
discreet hint that the enquiry dealt with a leakage of stable
information, the bookmaker was only too anxious to con-
vince him that, if one of his clients had been lucky enough
to pitch on a vulnerable stable boy, he, at least, had had
no hand in the business. He professed himself as entirely
at Sir Richard's disposal, but, unfortunately, was not in
a position to help as, very naturally, he kept no record of
notes for small denominations that passed through his
hands. He was ready enough to give the name of his bank


234
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
and agreed that, if the notes were part of a new issue, the
series might be traceable through his bankers.
This being a task the police were better able to deal with
than himself, Constantine rang up Arkwright on his re-
turn to his flat. He gave him the name of the bank and the
data supplied by the bookmaker and asked him to put the
enquiry through as early as possible next day.
Arkwright, fresh from a protracted and unsatisfactory
conference with his superiors, was not in the best of tem-
pers. Superintendent Thurston had, as usual, spoken litde
but to the point and Arkwright had had to endure in si-
lence a reprimand which should, by rights, have fallen to
one of his subordinates. Only his genuine regard for the
old man prevented him from flatly turning down his
request.
"It would be easier if we weren't working in the dark,"
he grumbled. "I'll do what I can, but banks are jealous of
their privileges and we have to move carefully. Couldn't
you be a little more explicit, sir?"
Constantine ignored the plea. He realised, with some
amusement, that Arkwright had not recognised the serial
number he had given him and had failed to identify the
note with the one he had got from the garage proprietor.
"Can you lay your hands on Greeve?" he demanded.
Arkwright with difficulty resisted the temptation to
jam the receiver back onto its hook.
"We can pull him in again, of course," he answered
shortly, "but we must have some excuse to do it."
"Get him to Scotland Yard tomorrow afternoon and
I'll provide the excuse and what's more, I'll undertake to
make him talk," declared Constantine, ringing off before
Arkwright could question him further.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
237
singers. "The poor Vera never dwelt on her past. She
would speak sometimes of her life in England, but, like
we others, there were certain things she wanted only to
forget. When I first met her she was absolutely destitute
and too ill, as the result of suffering and want of food, to
work."
"And Madame, of her goodness, no doubt took pity on
her," interpolated Constantine quickly.
"I did my best," she answered simply. "It was not easy.
Times were hard for all of us then. When she was better
I was able to find her work as dresser to an actress of my
acquaintance. She had held such a post before with a ballet
dancer in the early days of the revolution, so it was not
difficult. Then later, I introduced her to Monsieur Kara-
miev and she has been with him ever since."
"This dancer she worked for. Could you tell me her
name?" asked Constantine, grasping at any straw con-
nected with the murdered woman's past.
Madame Varsov's good-humoured face hardened.
"She called herself Ivanovna, Monsieur. She was one of
the many figures of the Revolution, and though she
worked always behind the scenes, she was powerful. Vera
said little of her life while she was in her service, but some-
times she let drop a word that gave me, who have lived
through that time, some hint of her suffering."
"Do you know if Madame Abramoff was in Switzerland
at any time?" asked Constantine.
"I doubt it, Monsieur, though I can say nothing for cer-
tain. She told me that she left the stage here, in England,
when she married, and went at once to Russia with her


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
husband. I know that they lived for a time in Riga, where
he held an important post, before they moved to Petrograd.
After the revolution she was unable to leave Russia."
"She could not have been in Switzerland during the first
years of the war, you think?"
"I should consider it most unlikely. She spoke of nursing
in a military hospital in Riga and afterwards in Petrograd,
before her husband was killed. I have the impression that
she was in Russia all through the war."
"Did she ever speak of a man named Miller?"
"This man whose wife she was going to stay with in
London? No, Monsieur. But of this I am quite sure. She
did not know this man. Mrs. Miller she had known well
long ago when they had acted together, but that was before
Mrs. Miller's marriage. More than once she told me she was
curious to see her friend's husband. I understood from her
that Mrs. Miller had been a little difficult in the past and
she had her doubts about the success of such a menage''
"Do you know at all when she first renewed her ac-
quaintance with Mrs. Miller?"
"About six weeks ago, I believe. We were playing in
Paris then, and Mrs. Miller, it would seem, saw her name
in some theatrical journal. Vera had altered her English
Christian name of Cora to one more suitable to her Rus-
sian surname, and Mrs. Miller wrote to her at the com-
pany's agent's address, thinking she was perhaps some
relation of the Abramoff who had married her friend, ask-
ing for news of her. In that way their correspondence be-
gan."
Constantine thanked her and took his leave. In the hall


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
239
of the hotel Karamiev, who had discreetly effaced himself
during the interview, joined him. He held an envelope in
his hand.
"Will Monsieur, perhaps, be seeing his friend the In-
spector?" he asked. "These letters have arrived for Madame
Abramoff, forwarded from Paris. I am at a loss to know
what to do with them."
"I shall be going to Scotland Yard this afternoon," an-
swered Constantine, "and will give them to Inspector
Arkwright myself. As none of her relatives have put in an
appearance the police had better take charge of them."
He put the letters in his pocket and, with some ceremony,
the two men parted. On his return to his flat Constantine
found a note from Arkwright awaiting him.
"You were right," he wrote, "though I do not see how
you arrived at it. The serial number you gave me corre-
sponds with that of a batch of new notes issued to the bank
on November the eleventh. They were all paid out in the
course of the next two days and your man undoubtedly
cashed a cheque on November the twelfth. That is as much
as the manager can say, but it sounds good enough. My
head was full of other things when you telephoned or I
should have recognised the number you gave me. I'm sorry,
sir, but you'll have to put your cards on the table now. We
hold that note and any information you may have about
it belongs to us. What about it? Greeve has been in-
structed to report here at three this afternoon. Shall I ex-
pect you?"
Constantine's eyes twinkled as he read the letter. Ark-
wright's patience was giving out at last and he did not


340
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
blame him. After a hasty lunch at the Club he drove to
Scotland Yard, arriving there a good hour before he was
expected. Arkwright raised a harassed face from his pa-
pers to greet him.
"Look here, sir," he began at once, "about that note. I
know you've got your own way of doing things and I'm
not saying it isn't successful, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask
you to come forward now. I've got my report to consider."
Constantine nodded.
"I can appreciate your feelings," he admitted, "and I'm
here to make amends. All I ask is that we deal with
Greeve first."
He took a sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it
to Arkwright.
"I want you to tackle him on these lines," he said. "If
I'm right, I believe he'll talk. It's a gamble, I admit. As
you'll hear later, I've unearthed some very curious facts
and I've managed to string them into some kind of order.
If Greeve fails us, I will hand them over to you and you
must deal with them as best you can."
Arkwright, who had been running his eye over the list
of suggestions he had given him, looked up quickly.
"I say, sir," he exclaimed, "have you any foundation for
these? If the thing comes off, all well and good, but if
Greeve calls our bluff, where are we?"
"No worse off than we were before," retorted Constan-
tine. "Do you honestly believe that Greeve wasn't black-
mailing Miller?"
"I'm morally certain that he was," answered Arkwright,


242
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
summons had shaken his confidence, the longer he was left
to his own reflections in the rather grim environment of
the Yard the better.
When Constantine returned he bore under his arm a
folder, the nature of which Arkwright recognised at a
glance.
He raised his eyebrows.
"Good hunting?" he queried.
Constantine sank into a chair, deposited his burden on
the table and placed his elbow on it.
"If the afternoon ends as well as it has begun, the an-
swer is in the affirmative," he announced complacently.
"Got your man?"
"He's been awaiting your arrival," answered Arkwright,
with an amused glance at the folder. This was Constantine
at his best and, unless he was woefully mistaken, Constan-
tine successful and about to lay his winning card on the
table with that dramatic gesture he never could resist. The
elation in the old man's eyes was infectious and Arkwright,
in spite of himself, found himself joining in the game.
The official mantle was slipping from his shoulders as it
had slipped before when, sitting over the fire in Constan-
tine's flat, he had discussed his work with him, occasionally
very much to his own profit. To the old chess player, the
unmasking of delinquents was a game and he played it with
a zest that took his companion back to the days when he
had been in love with his job and still an undisillusioned
enthusiast. To Arkwright, who knew his own limitations,
Constantine's elastic, but always logical brain, backed by
his immense experience of both men and things, was such


244
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"After that did you meet him again?"
"Yes."
"When?"
It was here that Arkwright received his first surprise.
"Two days ago, in this room."
"Mr. Miller gave us to understand that you called on him
some time ago."
"I called on him, but he was out. I saw his secretary."
"Did you never see Mr. Miller?"
"No."
"What was your business with Mr. Miller?"
"I offered him a piece of jewelry that I thought might
interest him."
"Had you any reason to believe that, after what had
happened in Cape Town, Mr. Miller would wish to deal
with you?"
"He did deal with me. That speaks for itself, doesn't it?"
Arkwright ignored the insolence of his tone.
"Can you describe this piece of jewelry?"
"A gold and enamel pendant representing Apollo and
set with precious stones."
"Can you name the stones?"
"Diamonds, emeralds, rubies and pearls."
"Could you draw the pendant?"
"I could make a rough sketch, yes."
"Have you seen Mr. Miller since you were confronted
with him in this room?"
"No."
"Or his secretary?"
"No."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
The answer came almost too quickly. Arkwright's eyes
dropped for a second to the paper in front of him, then he
leaned forward impressively.
"When I tell you that we know that Mr. Bloomfield saw
you yesterday, do you still persist in that statement?"
For a second blank surprise showed in Greeve's eyes.
Arkwright could read his mind. A moment ago he had
not known how he stood with the police, now he found
himself in the same dilemma as regards Bloomfield.
"Mr. Bloomfield couldn't have said that," he temporised,
at last.
"Told you to hold your tongue about it, did he, and
then gave you away?" retorted Arkwright contemptuously.
"When he showed you that pendant you've just described
so accurately, he didn't mention that he was coming to
the Yard this morning, I suppose?"
Greeve's face flamed suddenly. If he had been doubtful
of how he stood with Bloomfield, he knew now.
"I can't help what Mr. Bloomfield may have told you,"
he began, obviously feeling his way as he went. "Once I'd
delivered the pendant, my job was finished."
"Suppose we drop the pendant," snapped Arkwright.
"It's served its purpose and, by this time, Mr. Miller has
no doubt put it back where it came from. We'll have the
true story of your dealings with Miller for a change and it
may help your memory if I tell you that I'm in a position
to check every word you say."
"If Bloomfield . . ." mumbled Greeve, obviously in
desperation.
Arkwright cut him short.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
me in a car. I couldn't see who was with her, but I got
the number of the car and made up my mind to try and
trace it later, just on the chance that it was old Miller she
was staying with. I hadn't any special plans, just meant to
bide my time on the chance of getting my own back. Then
I dropped into the pub, as I said. I was there over half an
hour, I should think, and it must have been while I was in
there that he did it."
"How do you know that?" rapped out Arkwright.
Greeve's eyes met his, triumphant and utterly relentless.
"Because there was blood in the car when I found it. I
got my hand smeared with it when I took the bag."
"Where was that?"
"In a mews near Grosvenor Place. I don't know the name
of it, but I took a short cut down it on my way from Vic-
toria. A chap in Paris had given me an address in Soho if
I wanted a cheap hotel and, when I left the pub, I started
to walk there. The barmaid had given me so many direc-
tions that I got muddled and didn't discover I was on the
wrong track till I got to Hyde Park Corner. When I was
some way down the mews I recognised the car. I saw the
number first and glanced into it as I went past to see if I
could spot Miller. When I realised it was empty I had a
look inside and there was a lady's bag lying on the seat.
There was nobody about and, on a sudden impulse, I put
my hand in and took it. It wasn't money I was after. I
got an idea that I could return the bag later. Say I'd found
it lying somewhere and have a look at the people the
woman was staying with. Also, there was a chance there
might be a letter or something in it that would give me a


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
249
line on Miller. It was a rotten silly thing to do and I knew
it when I caught sight of my own hand a moment later
in the light of gas lamp and discovered that not only had
there been blood on the cushions of the car but that there
were smears that were still wet on the bag I was holding.
Even then the idea of murder never occurred to me. I
merely thought there'd been an accident of some kind and
that was why Miller had abandoned the car. At Hyde Park
Corner I bought an evening paper and wrapped the bag in
it, then I went over to the Public Lavatory and washed
my hands. Next day I saw the account of the murder in the
paper. The description of the woman and the time at which
she'd been found seemed to fit in, so I went to the mor-
tuary."
He paused, his eyes grim and hard.
"Then I knew I'd got Miller where I wanted him," he
finished slowly.
"Why didn't you report to the police?" demanded Ark-
wright. "According to your account you were out to get
even with Miller and you'd got the means in your hands."
Greeve's haggard face flushed a dull red and Constan-
tino, watching him, realised that the man had reason enough
to hate Miller. Probably before he entered the jeweller's
service he had been honest and self-respecting. Even now
he had the grace to be ashamed.
"I suppose the money tempted me," he confessed, meeting
Arkwright's eyes frankly, "but it wasn't only that. Miller
loves money better than his life and I wanted to bleed him
white and see his face whilo I did it. And I wanted to
make certain that he got what was coming to him. What


250
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
sort of story had I got to take to the police? I hadn't even
seen the man in the car, though I was morally certain it
was Miller. Time enough to go to the police later. My
object was to make him pay for what he'd done to me and,
if he was guilty, I could do that off my own bat."
"Added to which you'd got a theft on your conscience,"
put in Arkwright drily. "What have you done with the
bag?"
"I made a parcel of it and deposited it in the cloakroom
at Leicester Square Tube Station," said Greeves sullenly.
"And the cloak-room ticket?"
"Can I take off my collar?"
For a moment Arkwright thought the man was ill, then
he understood. With a grim smile he watched him remove
his collar and tie.
"You were taking no risks," he remarked, as Greeve
slipped the ticket from inside the fold of his collar and
handed it to him.
"It meant a lot to me," was all he said. Now that his
first consternation was over he seemed to have relapsed into
a mood of dull resentment.
"When did you approach Miller?" asked Arkwright.
"The evening of the day after the murder. I slipped the
letter into his letter box myself."
"How did you know his address?"
"It was in a letter from his wife that was in the bag.
It's there now, tucked away in a pocket behind the mirror,
where I found it."
"Have you taken anything out of the bag?"
"Nothing," answered Greeve apathetically. "Not even


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
251
the money. You'll find it all there. I didn't count it, but it's
all in French notes and cash. There was no English money."
"What passed between you and Miller?"
"He answered my letter . . ."
"Where to?" interrupted Arkwright.
"The Soho address. I'd given it when I wrote to him. I
knew that, if I was right, he wouldn't dare go to the police.
In his first letter he simply wrote asking me to go and see
him."
"Did you go?"
"I called at the time he said, but I only saw the secretary.
By then I'd had time to think things over and I'd begun
to get cold feet. Though I knew Miller was a skunk, I'd
never thought of him as a killer, but now I began to see
myself going the way of the Russian woman. I'd no friends
u\,England and no one would miss me. The secretary told
me that Miller was out, but he had orders to settle with
me. He asked me to go in, but I wouldn't. I said what I'd
got to say on the doorstep. Then I left."
"You made demands, I suppose. What were they?"
"I asked for a thousand down, in notes. I don't know
how much the secretary knew. The woman was never
mentioned between us and we might have been discussing
any business deal. Even Miller wasn't aware of how I'd
got my information. In my letter I'd simply stated that I
knew who killed the woman and held the proofs in my
possession. I fancy the secretary believed that I'd unearthed
something that had happened in South Africa. Anyway, he
said he'd report to his master."
"What happened next?"


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
Greeve's lips twitched.
"I did a bunk. I went back to the room in Soho, in case
the fellow was following me. Later I slipped out and moved
over to Battersea. Next day I wrote again, saying I would
send a messenger for the answer. I posted that letter in
Soho. And the following day I got Hoover to go up there.
He brought a letter from Miller trying to beat me down.
The next day I sent another letter by Hoover, saying I'd
take eight hundred and arranging for him to call for it the
following day. I was ready to let him off easy the first time.
I hadn't finished with him by a long way. When Hoover
called for the money, you took him. If I'd known Miller
was going to try to turn the tables on me like this I'd have
been across the Channel by now. As it was, I was beginning
to realise I was carrying my life in my hands. If he'd got
my address out of Hoover I'd have been for it."
Arkwright eyed him dispassionately.
"You're not out of the wood yet," he said coldly. "If you
can prove you were in that bar on the night of the four-
teenth all well and good. Meantime, you're held pending
enquiries. Have you got those letters of Miller's?"
Greeve shook his head.
"I burnt them. They were no good to me. The wily
devil had typed them. There wasn't even a signature.
They'd have done me more harm than good if they'd been
found."
Arkwright rang the bell and had him removed. He
watched the door close behind him, then, with a sigh of
relief, turned to Constantine.
"Well, I'm jiggered!" he ejaculated. "It worked like a


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
253
dream. Congratulate you, sir. The question is, where are
we now?"
"Rather in the position of the man who fished for a
whale and caught a minnow," suggested Constantine sar-
donically.
Arkwright nodded.
"We've got Greeve for blackmail on his own confession,
but, unless there's something pretty conclusive in that bag
he stole, we're very much where we were before. His word
against Miller's won't go far and Miller's alibi still holds.
And Greeve never even saw him. So long as Miller and
that secretary of his hang together and keep their mouths
shut, we can't move."
He thrust back his chair and sat staring at the table.
Then, with a frown, he straightened himself.
"Better have a look at that bag, anyway," he grunted.
Constantine waited while he arranged to have the bag
fetched from the Tube cloak-room. When the messenger
had left the room he picked up the folder he had got from
the Special Branch.
"What about my little exhibit?" he asked mildly.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
less. Our man suggested that it might be Russian. This is
what he made of it."
He pushed the photograph over to Constantine. It was a
print of the inscriptions on the Chinese knives and under-
neath it was written the word Malin in Greek and English
lettering.
\S\ A A M HP
M A A H H
i^i <L i i n\
"The chances seemed to point towards Malin being the
name of the owner of the knives," he continued. "I'm be-
ginning to see sense in all this. Is Malin the name at the
head of your report?"
Constantine nodded.
"Peter Malin," he said. "We have both been misled by
the fact that the knives were undoubtedly of Chinese
origin, but I had less excuse, as I recognised, the first time
I saw them, that the lettering might very well be a rough
attempt at the Russian alphabet. What I ought to have re-
membered was the fact that Chinese executioners were
imported by the Russians in the early days of the revolu-
tion. When it did occur to me I had no difficulty in fitting
Vera Abramoff into the story."
He turned to the report.
"The Special Branch had the information we wanted all
the time," he went on. "According to them, Peter Malin
first came to the fore in nineteen nineteen, when he worked


356
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
with the Chinese Che-Ka at Kiev. Later he became an exe-
cutioner and has a long list of victims to his name. I think
we may take it that the numerals written under his name
on the knives represent the tally of the executions he per-
formed. The clothes and jewels of his victims were his
perquisites and he is believed to have lined his pockets
well before leaving Russia. In nineteen twenty-one he was
accused of stealing government property and seems to have
got so badly into the black books of the authorities that he
barely escaped from Russia with his life. Both our own
agents and the Soviet Government marked him down as
a dangerous man and, according to your own people he
would be repatriated promptly if he were discovered in this
country. And he wouldn't stand a dog's chance once he
set foot in Russia. The Chinese had taught him how to use
those knives and, with his record, he would not hesitate to
adopt the easiest way to stop the mouth of anyone likely
to inform against him."
"Presuming he were in England."
"He settled in England some time ago, built up a pros-
perous business and had every reason to consider himself
secure. When one thinks of what discovery meant to him;
the enforced return to his own country where, at best, he
would have to face the confiscation of his money, at worst,
a long term of imprisonment or, more likely, execution, it
isn't difficult to see where the motive for the murder of
Vera Abramoff lay."
Arkwright stared at him.
"You are referring to Miller, of course," he said. "We've


258 MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
of his change of name. Why didn't they get onto him when
he first turned up here? There's been bad staff work some-
where."
Constantine's lips twitched. If Arkwright had not been
absorbed in following his own train of thought he would
have taken warning from the mischievous gleam in the
old man's eyes.
"Don't be too hard on them," he said. "They had every
excuse. Miller, according to his passport, was born in Riga
in eighteen eighty-one. The date of Malin's birth is given
as nineteen hundred and he is reported to have been work-
ing as an errand boy in Moscow at the time of Miller's trial
in Cape Town. I understand that a certain amount of at-
tention was paid to Miller when he first landed here, but
it is a common enough name and it would not take long to
convince them that he was not their man."
Arkwright's jaw dropped. He ran a frenzied hand
through his hair and glared at Constantine.
"Then who, in the name of Heaven . . ." he began.
Then, as the truth dawned on him, the words died on
his lips.
"Bloomfield," he whispered. "Good Lord, I ought to have
seen it. The egregiously efficient secretary! I knew he was
too good a man for that job, but I put him down as mark-
ing time and picking his employer's brains in the process.
How did he get his hold over Miller, do you suppose?"
"I fancy there's a relationship somewhere, but he may
have simply terrorised the older man. In any case, I think
we may take it that those lost years of Miller's were spent
in Russia. There's no mention of him in the Malin report,


a6o
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
between a grey beard and a black one is not so very great.
The Miller murder is a more difficult problem, as it rests
purely on circumstantial evidence."
"And we're still up against those alibis," Arkwright re-
minded him. "Bloomfield's just as well covered as Miller."
Constantine raised his eyebrows.
"Is he? I'll deal with those alibis in a moment. Mean-
while, I'd better give you the points against him as I made
them. I started out on the assumption that the Miller
murder, at any rate, was committed by some member of the
Miller household. My object originally was to break Miller's
alibi. I put Manners on the job and he failed, but, as you
know, he succeeded in tracing the notes paid for the hire
of the car, to Miller. I'd already discovered that the empty
house next door to Davenport's was part of certain property
bought by Miller on behalf of a Mrs. Marks and it seemed
safe to conclude that he had access to it. Finding that Mil-
ler's alibi held good I turned my attention to the other
members of his household and realised almost immediately
that Bloomfield, when he took the dog into the Square on
the morning of Mrs. Miller's murder, could, if he had
passed straight through the Square and out at the opposite
gate, have got to Illbeck Street, committed the murder and
come back in time to pick up the dog and return to the
house at the time he was seen by the butler."
Arkwright's eyes narrowed.
"Wait a minute," he exclaimed. "Bloomfield was actually
seen in the Square by a child who played with the dog and
also by the child's nurse."
"I'm not so sure. The butler's account to Manners was


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
that the child and the nurse saw him cross the Square and
that the child played with the dog for over half an hour.
It was a foggy day, remember, and they naturally took it
for granted, as they saw him both arrive and leave, that
he was in the Square all the time. Manners has been trying
to get in touch with that nurse and, knowing him, I have
no doubt he'll succeed in the end. I've given him instruc-
tions to ring me up here if he manages to bring it off this
afternoon, but I've no doubt as to what his report will be
when it comes. My main difficulty has been to discover how
Bloomfield managed to cover the ground between the
Square and Illbeck Street in the time. No taxi has been
traced and we know he did not use the Miller car. It wasn't
till I turned my attention to the car parked on the opposite
side of the Square that I arrived at a possible solution. I
think you will find that Bloomfield walked straight across
the Square, and, taking advantage of the fog, stepped
through the opposite gate into a car standing at the rear
of the rank, drove to Illbeck Street, and returned the same
way, leaving the car where he had found it. If it had not
been for the fact that the owner of the car had turned his
speedometer back to zero the evening before no one would
have jumped to the fact that the car had been borrowed. As
it is he will be ready to come forward when the time ar-
rives."
Arkwright leaned forward eagerly.
"Given that your theory is right, what about the evening?
We have the butler's evidence that Bloomfield was working
in his room at the time of the Abramoff murder."
"Bloomfield was ostensibly working in his room," cor-


262
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
rected Constantine. "He was heard typing by the servants
both at seven thirty and seven fifty, and we have his own
statement and Miller's that he took letters to the library
for his employer's signature several times in the course of
the evening. I should imagine that that statement is hardly
worth the paper it is written on! As regards the evidence
of the servants, Miller was seen coming from the secretary's
room at eight o'clock. Does that suggest nothing to you?
Bloomfield was heard typing at seven fifty, remember."
There was a dull thud as Arkwright's fist struck the
table.
"By Jove, they could have faked it between them!'* he
exclaimed. "If Miller was responsible for the typing!"
"Exactly. Miller was backwards and forwards between
the library and the secretary's room all the evening. No one
actually saw Bloomfield except Miller during that period.
Bloomfield no doubt had a latch-key and could have let
himself in and out of the house without attracting atten-
tion. Greeve assumed that the driver of the car was Mil-
ler, but he never saw him. I fancy that it's about the only
time in history that a blackmailer has actually levied toll
on his victim under the impression that he was dealing with
a third person. Greeve was undoubtedly genuine in his
belief that Miller was the murderer."
"It hangs together all right!" admitted Arkwright, "but
I wish we'd got more to go on. If those people can identify
him, all well and good. If they can't, I can see the Public
Prosecutor pointing out some of the weak lines in the evi-
dence! There are plenty of them!"
"We've traced the notes," Constantine reminded him.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
"To Miller, not to Bloomfield," Arkwright objected. "And
Miller's a slippery customer. He's safeguarded by his alibi
and he can easily deny having given them to Bloomfield."
"That he did give them to him, I feel sure. According
to the butler he placed them under a weight on his table
when he received them instead of putting them in his
pocket. I fancy we shall find that Miller was merely a
dummy and entirely under Bloomfield's thumb. If Bloom-
field isn't the real head of the firm I shall be surprised."
"How do you suppose he discovered Vera Abramoffs
intentions? If Mrs. Miller suspected him she would hardly
be likely to give the show away."
"He had the run of Miller's correspondence and Madame
Abramoff's visit must have been discussed openly before-
hand. If he recognised the name that would be enough to
bring his danger home to him. In addition to which Miller
presumably knew who he was and would have warned
him. The most interesting problem to me is Miller himself.
That he was an accessory after the fact is obvious, but how
far he was implicated in the actual murders is an open
question."
He was interrupted by the entrance of the detective who
had been sent to fetch Vera AbramofFs bag from the station
cloak-room. Arkwright stripped the paper off it and shook
the contents out onto the table. As Greeve had said, it
contained nothing but the murdered woman's passport,
money, powder box and lip-stick. Tucked away behind
the mirror was a letter from Mrs. Miller, but it consisted
only of a blurred scrawl saying that, if she were not at


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
265
"It came about very naturally, sir. I watched the nurse
go into the Square and then dropped in on Roper for a
friendly call. Finding him occupied I offered to take the
little dog for a run in the Square. Very unpopular with the
household, the little dog is, on account of its constant bark-
ing, and they were glad to get him out of the way. If I
might make a suggestion, sir."
"Yes?"
"I worded my enquiries as carefully as I could, but the
nurse is the kind of woman that puts two and two together,
as they say. She is also of a chatty nature. If steps are to be
taken it might be advisable to take them at once, sir."
"I quite agree with you, Manners. You've done magnifi-
cently."
Arkwright, who had been availing himself of the second
earphone, grinned.
"Manners deserves a presentation watch and he shall have
it if this comes off," he said. "Anything else you can sug-
gest?"
"Nothing, I'm afraid," answered Constantine. "Karamiev
gave me these for you, by the way. They were forwarded
to Madame Abramoff from Paris. Evidently arrived too late
to catch her before she started."
He handed Arkwright the letters the manager had given
him. Arkwright ripped open the envelope and ran through
them.
Three of them were circulars, the fourth was a long
letter, in a handwriting which made him glance swiftly
at the signature.
"From Mrs. Miller," he exclaimed, as he turned back to


266
MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
the first page. Constantine bent over the table and they read
it together. It opened abruptly and had evidently been
scrawled hastily on the spur of the moment.
"This is just a line to say for God's sake do not breathe
a word to Charles of what you told me about Julius Bloom-
field. I told you how potty he was about him. He might be
his son instead of his nephew from the way he behaves, but
I did not think he had got it in him to behave like he did
today. After I wrote to you this morning I had a beast of
a row with Charles. The same old thing, a couple of bills
he could have paid without noticing. It is Julius who makes
all the trouble, you would think the money belonged to
him instead of Charles. He would be all right if it was not
for Julius. Anyway, Charles said things to me and I went
further than I meant and told him I could tell him a thing
or two about his precious Julius and his goings on before
he joined him in Switzerland. I thought Charles would
have a fit, but he had got me started and I went on spilling
the beans. And in the middle of it in walked Julius. He
did not say much, but you should have seen his face. If he
could have killed me then and there he would have. I tell
you, he frightened me. He can do what he likes with
Charles and he will get his own back through him. I never
breathed your name, but he may have guessed. But, for
goodness sake, keep quiet when you come about what you
told me. I am certain now he is the fellow you knew in
Russia, but you said he might not remember you. Anyhow
I have burnt your letters. We can talk it over when you
come, but do not say a word till you have seen me. Yours
with love, Lottie."


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR 267
Arkwright looked at the envelope.
"Written on the twelfth," he said. "He got his own back
all right, two days later. This must have just missed her.
It went to her lodgings and from there to the Theatrical
Agent's. They forwarded it, hence the delay. You weren't
far wrong, sir."
Constantine had picked up the letter and was re-reading
it carefully.
"Those two women literally held Bloomfield's life in
their hands and never realised it," he said. "If they had
they would have been more careful. Mrs. Miller evidently
detested him and she must have jumped at the chance of
poisoning her husband's mind against him. Then, when it
was too late, she got frightened. Well, I'm afraid that's the
whole of our case against him. No one saw him on the
occasion of the Miller murder except Cattistock and his was
only a fleeting glimpse."
"There's that pendant of Mrs. Miller's," Arkwright said
thoughtfully. "Bloomfield took it as a blind, of course. We
may come on it among his things. We've failed to trace the
surgeon's coat and gloves, but he may very well have
bought those abroad. He was in Paris on business about ten
days before the murder."
"There's one problem that still confronts us," observed
Constantine. "Madame AbramofPs letter to Miller."
"I'm beginning to see light there," answered Arkwright.
"We've admitted all along the possibility that it might be
a forgery. Unfortunately there were no very adequate speci-
mens of her writing available for comparison, apart from
the signatures we got from Karamiev. Bloomfield, on the


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
271
show of resistance, but his eyes never wavered from the
figure of Miller, who still sat, crouched and motionless in
his chair, his hands gripping the edge of the table. With a
jerk of his head Arkwright motioned to the detective to
take him and the man laid a hand on his arm. The contact
seemed to galvanise Miller into action. He wrenched him-
self to his feet and made a frenzied attempt to get past the
detective, who tightened his grip and held him in spite of
his futile efforts to break free.
"Let me go," he sobbed, his face riven and distorted with
terror. "Don't you see? Julius, he will . . ."
He flung his arm in the direction of Bloomfield.
He was too late. The detective on guard at the door, with
a yell of: "Look out, sir!" hurled himself forward, but
Bloomfield's right hand was already out of his pocket. The
revolver it held spoke once and Miller, with a little sigh,
slipped down onto the carpet and lay still.
Bloomfield only spoke once on his way to the station.
"For a crime committed in this country there is no ex-
tradition?" he demanded.
"You will be tried at the Old Bailey," Arkwright told
him.
With a deep breath Bloomfield sank back in his seat.
Arkwright rang up Constantine and, late that evening,
called upon him at his flat.
"Carling thought he was doing a bunk and grabbed him
and held him bang in the line of fire," he said, at the end
of his recital. "The poor beggar was trying to take cover 1
He won't live through the night. He was conscious when
they got him to the hospital and he made a statement.


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
373
the old regime. His mind had probably been irretrievably
warped by things he had seen in Russia as a child. No doubt
Bloomfield, in his eyes, was all that he would have wished
to be himself if he hadn't been born a weakling and a
coward. Miller would no doubt have shrunk from the idea
of murder. He might even have dared to oppose Bloomfield,
but it would have been because he was afraid of the con-
sequences, not from any inherent sense of decency."
"He certainly didn't instigate the murders," agreed Ark-
wright. "According to his statement he knew nothing till
he was confronted with his wife's body. He recognised the
knife, of course, and, from then on, lived in an agony of
terror. He was afraid of us and what we might find out,
but, I think, still more terrified of Bloomfield. He declared
to me that he had no suspicion that the Abramoff letter was
a forgery and went to the station fully expecting to meet
her there. When she did not come he still suspected noth-
ing, being convinced that that was the train she had meant
to travel by. I questioned him as to Bloomfield's where-
abouts that evening and he admitted that he was not in
the house at the time of Madame Abramoff's death. It was
Miller, of course, who was heard typing in the secretary's
room, but I'm inclined to believe his story, which is that
Bloomfield told him that he had to go out on urgent
business connected with the Miller murder and that he
wished him to cover the fact of his absence. One must re-
member that he had been on tenterhooks ever since he had
seen his wife's body that morning and was probably pre-
pared to follow any suggestion of Bloomfield's blindly.
Bloomfield told him late that evening what he had done. I


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
gather that they both omitted to foresee that Miller might
be called upon to identify the corpse of Madame Abramoff.
Miller was in consequence unprepared and, in his panic,
made the fatal mistake of concealing the fact that he had
never seen her."
"Bloomfield could hardly have been saddled with a worse
accomplice," said Constantine. "I should imagine that he
simply did not dare confide in him. Did you get anything
out of Miller concerning the business of Greeve?"
"Yes. Bloomfield intercepted the whole of that corre-
spondence and the first Miller heard of it was when Bloom-
field rang him up at his office after receiving our telephone
call announcing Greeve's arrest and asking him to call at
the Yard; Bloomfield primed Miller then as to the story he
was to tell. The enamel pendant was, of course, one that
they already had in stock and Miller brought it with him
from Hatton Garden that afternoon, so as to have it in
readiness if it were needed to corroborate his story. By the
way, a messenger did deliver a parcel at Miller's office on
the day he declared to us that Greeve had brought the
pendant. We have failed to trace him and the head clerk
is unable to describe him, but he certainly was not Greeve,
who was playing darts in the Goat and Horns at the time.
Bloomfield was certainly an adept at using the material he
had to hand. He saw Greeve, as you suspected, after his
release, and put him wise to the yarn about the pendant."
"Talking of pendants, did he tell you what had become
of his wife's emerald?"
"No. He was getting very feeble towards the end and I
did not press him. He was only too ready to talk, seemed to


MURDER IN THE DENTIST CHAIR
have a sort of craving to get it all off his chest. He must
have been through Hell since his wife died. His fear of
Bloomfield was the only thing that prevented him from
giving the show away earlier, I imagine. He was shot
through the spine, by the way, and the lower half of his
body is completely paralysed, but his brain is quite clear.
He literally talked himself into a state of collapse. If the
hospital people hadn't considered his case absolutely hope-
less, I shouldn't have been allowed to interview him."
Constantine rose and pulled a small inlaid table up to
the fire. Placing a box of Halva at Arkwright's elbow, he
began to set out the chessmen.
"I'm glad it's over," he said, "and that I'm free to culti-
vate my garden. Yours is a nasty job, Arkwright, and, for
the future, you can prosecute it without any interference
from me."
Arkwright, who was mixing himself a whiskey and soda,
turned to him, a shrewd twinkle in his eyes.
"To the next time, sir," he retorted, raising his glass.
A few minutes later the Miller case and all its ramifica-
tions had become a thing of the past. They were playing
chess.
The mystery of Mrs. Miller's pendant was not cleared
up until after her husband's death in hospital, when his
business was being valued for probate. The emerald was
identified in a tray of unset stones. Miller had broken up
the setting and added the gem to his stock. If he had lived
long enough to draw the insurance money and dispose of
the emerald he would have realised on its value twice over
and made a very pretty profit on his wife's death.