به . سعد THE BARTENSTEIN CASE In The Bartenstein Case Mr. J. S. Fletcher has written one of those highly ingenious detective mysteries in which he has made a reputation. He here deals with the mystery attaching to a certain sword-stick which had been in a family of rank for many generations. A murder, in which this sword-stick plays à part, is skilfully unravelled by a Scotland Yard man after many wonderful adventures and by-issues. A Jew millionaire, a young officer in the Army, a charming girl, and a young man about town who prides himself on his skill as an amateur detective, figure largely in the book, in which also appears a striking character known as "Grandfather Punctuality". By the same Author:- The Three Days' Terror The Arcadians The Harvesters The Investigators The Golden Spur The Ransom for London The Guarded Room Etc. THE BARTENSTEIN CASE By J. S. FLETCHER 50th Thousand OROKOR YILOSRENOS LONG! London John Long, Limited 34, 35 & 36, Paternoster Row WISCONSIN A all book are purely imaginary and have no reference to any living person. OF SITY ūTAINE CT BRAB Made and Printed in Great Britain for John Long, Limited, 34, 35 do 36, Paternoster Row, London, E.C.4, at the Anchor Press, Tiptree, Essex. PR 6011 L5 B35 1913 CONTENTS BOOK THE FIRST PAGE THE MURDER AT PRINCES GATE OHAPTER I. LOVERS II. MR. BARTENSTEIN'S ULTIMATUM . 13 22 III. DESPAIR IV. LAUDERDALE ACTS 31 40 49 V. THE SPANISH SWORD-STICK BOOK THE SECOND MYSTERY OF THE SWORD-STICK I. AT SCOTLAND YARD 61 II. STORY OF THE LAME YOUNG MAN STORY OF THE HIDALGO's CURSE III. 70 79 88 IV. GRANDFATHER PUNCTUALITY . V. THE SWORD-STICK DISAPPEARS 98 BOOK THE THIRD THE VEILED WOMAN OF PRIMROSE HILL I. A MYSTERIOUS APPOINTMENT III II. I 20 FURTHER SURPRISES ix х CONTENTS OHAPTER PAGR III. ON PRIMROSE HILL 129 IV. THE ARTIFICIAL EYE. 138 148 V. THREADS DRAWN CLOSER . . BOOK THE FOURTH THE CONTENTS OF THE SWORD-STICK 1. THE SWORD-STICK AGAIN 161 II. HIDDEN TREASURE . 171 180 III. THE HOUSE AT HIGHBURY. IV. THE PRIVATE STAIR . 190 199 V. A HEAVY SECRET . BOOK THE FIFTH BROUGHT TO LIGHT I. THE MURDER AT THE HOTEL VENEZIA 2II II. THE WAYSIDE INN 220 III. IN AT THE DEATH . IV. FOR VENGEANCE THE HOUSE IN ST. JOHN'S WOOD 229 238 248 V. . — BOOK THE FIRST The Murder at Princes Gate CHAPTER I LOVERS Of all the open spaces with which London has so generously provided her people, there is no single one which compares with Kensington Gardens for a certain charm which seems peculiar to it. True enough, this stretch of ground has no undulations, no mimic hills, no miniature valleys ; it possesses no stream or river, real or artificial, and its pond, how- ever useful to the owners of model yachts and to small owners of smaller craft, is not a thing of beauty. Also there are no particular views in Kensington Gardens, always excepting the artificially contrived view from the Palace windows, which gives you the impression of being in the midst of a large park, and conveys a sense of noble expanse. But the charm of the place is neither in views nor scenery ; it is rather in the presence of many trees, of de- lightful shadiness, and of great quiet. No one ever sees Kensington Gardens crowded. Its tea-house stands away in a corner, and there is no accommodation for riding your own or 13 14 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE other people's horses. It is a great place for nursemaids, babies, and old ladies who bring out fat pugs and poodles for a much-needed constitutional ; a great place, too, for quiet people who wish to meditate or to read ; a great place for young gentlemen with long hair and young ladies in æsthetic frocks who wish to commune with Nature while composing a sonnet or a rondeau. And it is also a con- venient place for lovers who wish to have a little quiet conversation with each other. There was one such lover, waiting im- patiently near the Lancaster Gate entrance one fine June morning, who wished that the gardens, quiet as they were just then, were even less public and more shady—that they were, in fact, a quiet and umbrageous valley in the midst of mountains, where there was absolute solitude. When you are but five-and- twenty, and terribly in love, and have become engaged to the object of your love, and the engagement has only just taken place-in fact, only a few hours ago--you naturally wish to lead her to quiet retreats ; in short, to have her all to yourself. This was exactly the state in which Mr. John Dalrymple Lauderdale, who held His Majesty's commission and was a lieu- tenant in the 42nd Lancers, and a young gentle- man of very ardent temperament and high spirits, found himself on this particular morning. He had been in love with Millicent Oxenham, Sir Nicholas Oxenham's daughter, ever since LOVERS 15 she was a girl of fifteen, and he at Wellington. In his holidays they had fished together, played all manner of games together, sometimes quar- relled and always made it up on the instant. Then, of course, there had been no talk of love ; they were comrades and healthy young animals. But when Lauderdale entered the Army he was almost immediately packed off, first to Gib- raltar, and then to Malta, and subsequently to Egypt, and there had been a blank of nearly four years during which they never saw each other. Then Lauderdale came home and found a beautiful young woman where he had left a still- growing girl, and they had looked at each other -and it was all over. And, last night, at Lady Tremlingham's ball, he had asked Millicent to marry him, and she had told him that she had never dreamt of marrying anybody else. And now Lieutenant Lauderdale felt as if he were intoxicated with the finest ether. How many times he pulled out his watch as he waited about the entrance to the gardens Lauderdale did not know, but he knew very well that, like all lovers, he had come too early to his appointment, and that his lady-love would not be late. “Of course she'll be punctual,” he said to himself. “Millie always was punctual. She always keeps a promise.” Then he caught sight of her coming along the walk just within the Park, and hurried to meet 18 BARTENSTEIN CASE THE said simply. “Very! Mrs. Hamilton said so last night. I-I felt-proud.” Lauderdale laughed and laid a very brown and masterful-looking hand on the girl's wrist. “We must always be proud of each other,' he said. “Dearest-am I to speak to your father tonight? And did you speak to your mother?” Millicent nodded her head. At the mention of her mother a slight look of pain crossed her face and her eyes grew sad. “Yes,” she said. “I told her this morning. She was very glad, dear, as I knew she would be. But, Jack, I hope we shall never have to be far away from her, that you won't want me to go abroad, to India or anywhere, because I'm sure, from the hints that Dr. Ingram gives us guardedly, that she may never be able to leave her room again.” “I don't think there's any fear of that, dear,” said Lauderdale. “You see, we're only just home after twenty-one years' foreign service, so there'll be a long spell here. You shall not be out of touch with her.' Millie pressed his hand. “Thank you, Jack,” she said. “That's what I do wish-while she lives. It's dreadful for her to be a confirmed invalid, as she has been now for three years, unable to leave her room, and she's dependent so much on me for company. But as to your speaking to Father-yes, I think you might do so tonight, because, so far as I know, no LOVERS 19 SO. one but yourself is coming to dine. Of course he may ask someone during the day-he often does, and telephones at the last moment to say Mr. Bartenstein, for example, often comes with him." Lauderdale frowned. “That chap !” he said. “I can't stand him, Millie.' “I loathe him," said Millie. "I even detest him ! But he and Father are such close friends that I have to be civil to him. However, I don't expect him tonight, because he was there last night. So, if there is no one there but you, Jack, you might speak to Father after dinner.' “Yes," said Lauderdale. “That's what I meant to do." “The only thing,” said Millie thoughtfully, “the only thing is- She paused and tapped the ground with the point of her shoe. “What are you thinking of?” asked Lauder- dale. “I was going to say that you had better see if he is in—not exactly a good temper, but in a fitting mood," she replied. “Lately I have been a little troubled about him. When he has come home from the City he has seemed worried, and now and then he has been rather irritable, and in the evening, instead of his old methods of spending it, he shuts himself up in his study and seems to be working at figures. “Doing some big deal, very likely,” said 20 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE Lauderdale. “Those big financial chaps are like that sometimes, I believe. However, I'll look for my opportunity. I don't see what objection he can have, dear. I'm pretty well off in this world's goods ; I've a clean record, and certainly no dark spots to cover up, and no debts ; and I shall have the baronetcy when Uncle Dick goes—I'm an eligible parti, I think.” Millie laughed and pressed his hand again. "Quite !" she said. "I don't think my father will have the least objection, Jack—it's only that lately, if one wants to ask him anything, or con- sult him in any way, one has had to choose one's time with some care. I-I have been wondering if “Yes ?” said Lauderdale, as she paused. “If what, dear ?" “If he was in any financial trouble,” she answered. “Twice lately he has scarcely touched any dinner, and his appetite at breakfast is certainly not good.” "Oh, it may be as I said, that he's doing a big deal with some of the foreign governments, said Lauderdale. “When you're dealing with millions, as Sir Nicholas does, why, you naturally feel a bit hipped." “But he has always been dealing with millions and things ever since I remember,” said Millie, "and he was always so jolly and good- tempered until recently. Í confess," she added, after a pause, “I confess, Jack, I have been rather bothered about him. Lately, too, Mr. LOVERS 21 Bartenstein has always been at the house, and he and Father have sat in the study for hours at night, apparently doing business. And—I don't like Mr. Bartenstein." “I should think not-rather !” exclaimed Lauderdale. “He makes me think of- of a fried-fish shop !" Millie laughed. “Never mind,” she said. “Let's talk of some- thing else.” There was nobody near at hand to eaves- drop, and for some time Lieutenant Lauder- dale and Miss Oxenham continued to play the parts of whispering lovers 'neath the shade, with the result that, when they rose, each looked well satisfied with the morning's tête-à-tête. Lauderdale walked back with Millie to Sir Nicholas Oxenham's house in Sussex Square, and left her there with a promise to come that evening half an hour before dinner. He went away with a light heart. The girl's heart was light too as she ran up the steps. Nor did anything warn her of any coming evil as the old butler admitted her. “What a glorious morning, Basset, isn't it?” she said cheerily. "Glorious !" “A splendid day, miss,” answered the old man. He paused a minute to lower his voice. “There's Mr. Bartenstein here, miss, in the library—to see you, miss." CHAPTER II MR. BARTENSTEIN'S ULTIMATUM MILLICENT OXENHAM, from her healthy bringing- up and active childhood, was a young woman who was not conscious of possessing nerves, and certainly knew nothing of fear. But when she heard that the man for whom she had an in- stinctive dislike, a loathing which she had never even tried to account for, was waiting to see her, she was suddenly conscious of feeling afraid for the first time in her life-afraid in a vague, dis- composing way. She felt herself looking at the old butler with a strained face as she turned to him in surprise. “Mr. Bartenstein ! Waiting to me, Basset ?" she exclaimed. “In the library, miss," replied Basset. "He's been waiting half an hour. He said he would await your return, and that I was not to mention his presence to my lady.” A sudden definite fear seized upon Millicent. She grasped Basset's arm unconsciously. "Oh, Basset !” she said. "Is it-can it be that anything has happened to—to my father ?” see 22 MR. BARTENSTEIN'S ULTIMATUM 23 The butler shook his head. “I shouldn't think so, miss,” he said. “I feel sure that Mr. Bartenstein would have mentioned the matter to me, if that had been the case. Millicent nodded her head, and turning away, went slowly across the hall to the library door. Old Basset stepped swiftly and noiselessly past her, and opened the door before she could lay hands on it. She stepped in, still wondering, still feeling that vague fear which she had never known before. The door closed behind her. She was alone with Mr. Bartenstein. Whatever might have been the grounds on which Lieutenant Lauderdale and Millicent Oxenham founded their mutual dislike of Mr. Marcus Bartenstein, it was certainly not his personal appearance which would have made him disagreeable to most people. Looking at him casually most people would have considered him a very good-looking man. Presumably about five-and-forty years of age, he was extremely well-set-up, tall, well-proportioned, and evidently in the best of condition and health. There was very little of the Semitic in his face ; his nose was, perhaps, a little curved ; his lips, perhaps, a little thick ; his jaws, perhaps, a little heavy. But he had a good forehead, powerful eyes, with the instinct of force and command in them, and he was groomed to perfection. Just as perfect was his attire : his morning coat fitted his fine figure like a glove, his white waist- ; 24 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE coat was irreproachable, his trousers a marvel, his boots a dream of brightness. There was nothing loud or obtrusive about Mr. Bartenstein : his watch-chain was a plain affair of gold ; his black cravat, tied with unerring precision, was ornamented with a single pearl pin of great beauty. And all over him there was an air of quiet dignity and power. Millicent felt, as he bowed to her, that whatever else this man might be, self-control was with him a virtue. Mr. Bartenstein probably noticed some signs of agitation in Millicent's face as she met him, and was quick to surmise the cause. “Don't be alarmed, Miss Oxenham,” he said quickly, as she shook hands with him. “There is nothing the matter—you perhaps thought I came from your father, as he has not been well lately. No-I saw him an hour ago and he was quite well.' He handed her to a chair and took one near her. "I am sorry if you were startled at my call," he said. “It is, of course, quite unusual for me to call here in the morning. The truth is, I wanted to see you-alone.” Millicent continued to watch him. Inwardly she was speculating as to the reason of his visit. Something told her that he was there for no good reason, but she would have found it difficult to explain why. "You are aware, Miss Oxenham," continued Mr. Bartenstein, in his smooth, even voice, MR. BARTENSTEIN'S ULTIMATUM 25 "you are aware, of course, that your father, Sir Nicholas, and I have for some time been closely connected in business matters." Millicent bowed her head without speaking. What, she wondered, was he going to tell her? Instinctively she thought of her father's recent alteration of habits and temper. "Have you noticed, Miss Oxenham, that Sir Nicholas has of late seemed somewhat harassed, troubled in mind ?" asked Mr. Barten- stein. “Yes," answered Millicent. “You have no idea of the cause of his altered behaviour ?” he said. “No," she replied. “I thought-feared he might have business troubles." Mr. Bartenstein brought his chair nearer and spoke in a low voice. "You feared rightly, Miss Oxenham,” he said. “He has business troubles--and very serious ones. She made no remark upon this, but con- tinued to watch him. “They are so serious," he went on, "that they are irreparable. The true fact of the case is your father is ruined." She uttered a sharp cry of pain-Mr. Barten- stein's face remained immovable. His eyes watched her steadily. “Do you mean that he is hopelessly and irretrievably ruined ?” she said. “Hopelessly and irretrievably ruined,” he 1 26 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE repeated after her. “The right words, Miss Oxenham.” “I do not understand,” she said dully. “I thought my father was a very rich man. Mr. Bartenstein smiled. His face was not so pleasant when he smiled as it was when in repose. His smile made Millicent shudder. "Your father has been a very rich man,” he said. “But of late years he has had many serious losses. Recently he has been engaged in a tremendous transaction which he trusted would be successful and enable him to make those losses good. The transaction has not been successful. He is ruined.” Millicent sat knitting her trembling fingers. On one of them was a ring which John Lauder- dale had placed there that morning-she held : it now as if she might gain some strength from it. “Does-does he know?” she asked, forcing herself to look at her visitor, though she knew that tears were in her eyes. “He will know during the afternoon,” said Mr. Bartenstein. “At present he is wondering what is to happen. About four o'clock he will know the truth. And then, Miss Oxenham, he will come to me for help. Because I am the only man who can save him.' Millicent listened in silence. A terrible fear that she had not heard all that Mr. Bartenstein had to say was creeping over her-her quick woman's wit was already suggesting things. She sat as if she were in some awful dream. MR. BARTENSTEIN'S ULTIMATUM 27 “The only man who can save him,” repeated Mr. Bartenstein with emphasis. “Mind that, Miss Oxenham. The only man out of all the men he knows-the one, only man !” Millicent forced herself to speak. It seemed to her that everything was a long way off-that her voice sounded to her a long way off-that the happy morning, and the sunlight, and her lover were far, far off, indeed. “Are you going to save my father ?" she asked, with dry lips. Mr. Bartenstein rose from his chair, walked across the room to the window, and coming back, took up his stand on the hearth-rug, and looked down at Millicent's bent head. “Miss Oxenham," he said, “I will save your father. But only upon one condition.” "And that is she whispered. “That you become my wife," he replied. He saw the girl's fingers tighten, he heard her catch her breath in a despairing sob. But no change took place in his own face. He sat down again and went on speaking in the same even tones. “Don't be alarmed,” he said. “And listen to what I have to say before you speak. It seems immaterial to say just now what I feel for you, because that must be evident. I want you to consider other matters which are of moment. Remember, first of all, that I am a very rich man-I am worth at least three millions 28 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE "Oh, don't, please !” she said entreatingly. “It is a matter worth knowing,” he said dryly. "Secondly, after my ten years in the House of Commons I have great influence with my party. In fact, it is a settled matter that Í receive a peerage at the coming Dissolution. Then Millicent wrung her hands. “Please, Mr. Bartenstein !” she exclaimed. He went on without heeding her. “Thirdly," he said, “although you have never seen it, you are aware that my town house in Princes Gate is one of the most beautiful in London, and that it contains an almost price- less collection of art treasures. In addition to that I am negotiating for the purchase of Ever- stowe Park, one of the finest places in Bucking- hamshire, while ... Millicent's mood suddenly changed. changed. She leapt to her feet and confronted Mr. Barten- stein with flushing face and blazing eyes. “Mr. Bartenstein,” she exclaimed, "you are insolent !” “On the contrary, I am explicit,” he said calmly. "I wish to inform you exactly of what it is I am offering you. In addition to all these good things, which no sensible woman would refuse, I offer to save your father and to provide against any chance of a future reverse in his fortunes. I also offer you the handsomest settlements.' Millicent, who had retreated towards the ور >> MR. BARTENSTEIN'S ULTIMATUM 29 I door, stared at him. In her eyes there was as much wonder as there was indignation. “So you believe in buying a wife !" she said. "Not at all ; far from it,” he answered. “I believe in an honourable contract, and I wished you to know what I have to offer you. As for the rest, I will be a good husband to you—you shall never have cause to regret marrying me. am a man of my word.” Millicent looked at him steadily. "Mr. Bartenstein,” she said, “I will not marry you. I don't want to seem rude, or to hurt your feelings, but I would not marry you to save my life, even if it were ten thousand times dearer than it is (and it is dear now, for Jack's sake, she added in her heart). Understand me, I will not marry you !" Mr. Bartenstein was watching her with appar- ently impassive eyes. "I think you will," he said quietly. “You think I shall !” she exclaimed angrily. “How dare “I think you will,” he repeated. “You will—for your mother's sake. Listen, Miss Oxenham.' You do not appreciate what your father's ruin means. He will have literally nothing. This house will go—everything in it will go--you will all be paupers. Your mother is a hopeless invalid-are you going to allow her to spend the last days of her life in poverty, when it is at your option to see that she spends them in luxury ? Think the position over. CHAPTER III DESPAIR For some little time after Mr. Bartenstein's departure Millicent sat alone in the library feeling as if all the world had grown dark. The events of the morning had followed one upon the other so quickly that she could scarcely realize their significance ; she felt stunned, not only mentally, but physically, as if she had just been through a serious accident. She had risen that morning feeling herself the happiest girl in the world, and had gone forth to meet her lover with a heart as light as the June winds that played about her. She had come back from their meeting happier than ever, and had felt strongly tempted, when the old butler opened the door to her, to catch him round the waist and dance him across the hall. And then had fallen this awful blow, like some great black cloud suddenly blotting out the sun. She could not yet believe it. Ruin, dishonour, perhaps for her father-poverty for them all—', and for herself a dreadful alternative. If Mr. Bartenstein could have seen into Millicent 31 32 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE Oxenham's heart just then he would have known what it is to be soundly hated. She had always disliked him ; now she thought of him with a hatred which was all the deeper because it was foreign to her nature, affectionate and sunny as it was, to hate anything. She clenched her hands as she thought of him-probably because, in her tom-boy days, now far off, Jack Lauderdale had taught her something about boxing. “Beast !” she said to herself, between set teeth. “How I should like to thrash him! And it may be that he is at the bottom of all this trouble. Oh, if my poor father had never known him or brought him here !" Then, feeling how impotent poor women are, however adept they may be in hunting and riding and driving and certain other things, she shed a few quiet tears and was very unhappy, as indeed she had good reason to be, considering that her day-dreams had suddenly been torn to shreds and her palace of shining things pulled down about her ears. But Millicent was not the sort to waste time in wailing and weeping, and ere long she had dried her eyes and informed her- self that this was not the time for nonsense, but for a display of higher qualities. And feeling that she was doing the wisest thing open to her, she dispatched a telegram to Lieutenant Lauderdale, in which she asked him to come to her half an hour earlier than they had first arranged upon. After which she forced herself to assume her usual manner and went to attend her invalid mother. 34 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE and in another minute he came in, looking much as usual, except that he seemed tired and walked rather slowly. “Are you very tired today, Father ?” she asked, when she had kissed him and put him into his favourite chair. “Well, my dear, I am a little more tired than usual,” replied Sir Nicholas. “I have had rather a trying time of it this afternoon. I have asked Basset to bring me a little brandy-and- water-I will drink it before you give me my tea. She watched him narrowly, as he sat sipping at his glass, when Basset had left the room, and it suddenly struck her with a pang that he was aging faster than seemed reasonable. He was a handsome old man, tall and slender of figure, with a clean-shaven, intellectual face, a strong chin and an aquiline nose—his daughter had always been proud of him, just as he was something more than proud of her. She noticed now, looking more narrowly at him than she had done for some time, that his hair was not only getting thinner, but that it was changing rapidly from grey to white ; she noticed, too, that there were fresh lines about his eyes and his mouth. And once Mr. Bartenstein's sinister words made her heart heavy as lead. She Nicholas drank his brandy-and-water, and presently took the cup of tea which his daughter handed him. He had a liking for certain sorts of sandwiches, and she had taken more DESPAIR 35 care to see that they were in readiness for him, but he merely made a pretence of eating, and set down his cup with a gesture which indicated that he did not care for a second. He sat for a moment or two silently staring in front of him ; then he raised his head and beckoned his daughter to him with a faint smile. “Come here, dear,” he said. “I have some- thing to tell you. Millicent knelt by his side—her favourite position when he wanted to talk confidentially to her—and put her hands in his. “It's not very pleasant telling,” he began. “My little girl must bear it bravely. But you are brave, Millie-—there's nothing of the weak woman in you, thank God !" “I hope not, Father,” she answered. “And whatever it is that you have to tell me, I hope it's nothing that will give you pain.” “I'm afraid it's something that will give us all pain,” he said. “That is, if it really happens.” If it really happens ! Then, so far, the worst had not happened! She felt a sudden lighten- ing of heart, a great sense of relief. But she made no remark, and waited for her father to continue. “I have always made a point, Millie," Sir Nicholas presently continued, “of never talking about my business affairs at home ; I get quite plenty of them at the office,” he added, with a grim smile. "I like to forget them when I leave there." ; 36 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE Millicent pressed his hands and nodded her head. “But you may have noticed lately that I have been very much worried when I came home,” he went on. “And perhaps a little irritable. The fact is, I have had serious losses this year--very serious losses. That affair of the loan to the Government of Montalbia was—almost irrepar- able. And there have been others. In fact, it became necessary to effect a great coup in order to put matters straight-desperate ills require desperate remedies, you know. Well, today- this afternoon—I found that my desperate remedy had failed.” “And what does that mean, Father ?" she asked. “It means that, unless my last resort is good, I am ruined,” he said slowly, but without emotion. “Ruined !" “What is that last resort ?" she asked, well knowing what the answer would be. “Bartenstein,” he answered slowly. “Barten- stein. I saw him this afternoon after I knew what had happened, and I explained matters to him, though, of course, he had a pretty good idea of how things stood, because he and I have had so many dealings together. He was by no means averse to doing what I asked, but he said it must depend on the success of a transaction of his own, which will be completed one way or the other tomorrow at noon. He will give me an answer at one o'clock. Well, I have had so many days 38 CASE THE BARTENSTEIN eagerly. “Why, Father, there are lots of people who live on that, aren't there?” “There are lots of people who live on half of it, and lots more who live on a quarter of it, and lots and lots more who live on a tenth of it," said Sir Nicholas grimly. “And there are still lots left who have to live, whether they like it or not, on one-twentieth of it." “Then, Father, if a thousand a year is certain, she said, “why go to Mr. Bartenstein ? Why not give up business and devote yourself to your books for—for the rest of your time? You've worked hard enough." Sir Nicholas stroked his hair again. “I am afraid you don't quite understand, dear,” he said. "If the worst comes to the worst, the books will have to go. So will the pictures. So will the old china and the coins. We shall have to leave this for a small house- a house in the suburbs. Ugh! No—a thousand a year doesn't go far, Millie. You can't keep horses or carriages on that, or give dinner- parties, even quiet ones. And besides, after my. career, I don't want to retire defeated. Remem- ber, I am only sixty-two, and with my knowledge I can put matters right again in a year or two perhaps less. When they are, then I will retire. “No-I must see what Bartenstein has to say tomorrow. It seems a little strange that he could not give me an answer this afternoon, because I should have thought that he could have put his hand on a million at any time. But one never DESPAIR 39 knows how money is tied up,” he added re- flectively. “I only hope his own transaction will end satisfactorily tomorrow morning. In that case I shall be all right-if not, I shall be all wrong." He gave his daughter a squeeze of the hand, smiled a little sadly, and rose from his chair. "Now, I'll go and see Mother," he said. “Don't let her see there's anything wrong, Millie. After all, I've got faith in Bartenstein. So don't worry unduly-I only wanted you to be pre- pared. By the by, isn't young Lauderdale din- ing tonight?” “Yes, Father,” she answered. “That's right,” he said. "He'll "He'll liven us up." Then he left the room, and Millicent was more miserable and despairing than ever. CHAPTER IV LAUDERDALE ACTS It was Sir Nicholas Oxenham's custom to spend his time between returning from his office and the dinner-hour at eight o'clock with his wife, and so, when Lauderdale arrived a few minutes before seven that evening he found Millicent quite alone. Lauderdale himself was full of life and spirits—he was young enough, and had been out of England long enough, to enjoy the delights and gaiety of a season in full swing, and he had had a good day. It gave Millicent a sharp pang to see his bright, almost boyish face as he came into the drawing-room, and when he kissed her, as confidently and fondly as if they had been plighted for six months instead of twenty-four hours, she felt more than a little disposed to cry. As for the young gentleman, he was just then far too much in love to be deeply observant, and he laughed as he drew her beside him on a con- venient lounge. “This is jolly !” he said. “There's nobody else coming, is there, Millie, so we'll have a whole hour all to ourselves. That was nice of you- to think of the extra half-hour." } 40 LAUDERDALE ACTS 41 1 ?" She had made up her mind to tell him every- thing, especially after the interview with her father. She knew that Lauderdale was to be trusted to the full ; besides, she was not the woman to withhold her confidence where she had given her love. She turned and looked at him wistfully and a little sadly. And then Lauderdale saw. “Why, Millie !” he exclaimed. “You're look- ing sad- and I believe you've been crying. Has -has anything gone wrong “Yes, Jack," she answered. “That's why I sent for you half an hour earlier. I wanted to talk to you quietly.” Lauderdale felt as a man feels who is suddenly confronted with an unseen danger. He looked at her earnestly. She returned his gaze just as steadily. “It's—it's nothing between you and me, Millie ?” he said. “Between our love for each other ?" she answered. “Oh no, Jack-nothing can alter that." Lauderdale caught her to him and kissed her passionately. “Then I don't care what it is !” he said. “Nothing can matter so long as that's all right.” "Ah, but we're not everybody, Jack," she said. "You don't know what has happened.” “Then tell me—tell me !” he said impatiently. “You remember that I told you this morning that I was troubled about my father ?" she said. LA UDERDA LE ACTS 43 up—well, of course we're all in the same boat, eh ?" Millicent rewarded him with a kiss. “That's like what you always were, dear," she said. “You always wanted to share, even when you were a grubby little boy. Oh, if that were all, Jack ! But it isn't.” “Not all ? What else is there?” asked Lauder- dale. “Everything that's dreadful,” she said. “Dread- ful—and hateful. The truth is, Jack, Father wants to go on. He can't bear the idea of defeat-especially at his age, and with his reputation. He says that even now, if he can get the help he wants, he can put things straight and in a year or two recover all he has lost. “That,” said Lauderdale, “is what all of 'em say. “He is trying to get that help, Jack. He is pretty confident of getting it,” said Millicent. ‘And, Jack—it entirely depends upon me whether he gets it or not. Lauderdale turned and gazed at her in sheer astonishment. "On-you ?” he said. “On me," she answered. “Listen, Jack, to what I am bound to tell you. I shall never keep anything from you, never, at any time ! Try to listen patiently to what I have to say. This morning, when I came home, I found Mr. Bartenstein waiting for me. Now, don't look . 44 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE so fierce and angry, Jack, but listen to me calmly.” “It's a bit difficult to keep either calm or patient when you hear that fellow's name men- tioned !” said Lauderdale. “What on earth did he want with you?” “He explained that he had come to tell me the real truth about my father's affairs,” she answered. “What business was that of his ?” he asked. “Now, Jack, be patient !” she said. "He told me everything, explained everything. It came to this—that my father was irret father was irretrievably ruined unless somebody helped him over this crisis. Mr. Bartenstein then said that he would help him on one condition.' Lauderdale sat staring at her. Some vague suspicion of what was coming had already risen in him. His eyes were growing angry. “Well ?” he said. “And that was- “That I should marry him," she almost whis- pered. “Oh, Jack, Jack, could you have con- ceived such villainy ?" Lauderdale leapt to his feet with an impreca- tion with which his sweetheart felt heartily in agreement. He walked about the room like a caged tiger for a minute or two ; then he came and stood before his sweetheart with his hands plunged to the full depths of his trousers pockets and a very determined look on his face-an attitude which she had seen him assume many LA UDERDALE ACTS 45 a time in his boyhood when he was very angry. She smiled at the recollection. “Of course you sent the fellow to the right- about, Millie ?” he said quietly. “I told him as plainly as possible what I thought of him," she answered. "I told him that I wouldn't marry him to save my life, Jack.” “Well ?” said Lauderdale. “He said very calmly that he thought I should marry him-for my mother's sake," she con- tinued. “You see how he tried to work on my feelings. I told him that I was engaged to another man-whom I loved. He paid no more heed to that than if I had told him I was in love with the Achilles statue. He simply walked out, saying that he should call here at noon tomorrow for my answer, and that upon it depended the answer he should give to my father an hour later. Oh, Jack dear, what's to be done?” Lauderdale rapped out another objurgation. “Done !” he exclaimed. “What I should like to do is to go straight off and give the scoundrel a jolly good hiding. Done, indeed !" “But, Jack-my father ?" she said. Lauderdale faced round on her. “Look here, Millie,” he said almost sternly, "have you ever had the slightest, faintest notion of doing the self-sacrificing daughter dodge since this fellow put the idea before you ?" “No, Jack, honestly, no ; I think I should kill 46 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE myself first,” she answered earnestly. "And since I have heard from Father that there would be enough left for him and Mother to live upon, I have been less troubled-except that Father will take Bartenstein's refusal so much to heart.” “That's inevitable,” said Lauderdale. “Now then, Millie, you're going to do what I tell you -I'm in command now. Sit down at that desk and write exactly what I tell you. Ready ? Very well ; begin— Sir, I wish you to know that I absolutely decline under any circumstances whatever to accept the offer which you made me this morning, and I beg to tell you that I positively decline to see you again or to hold any communication with you.' Got all that? Then sign it, address it, and give it to me. That settles that chap-if it doesn't, I'll settle him.” Millie handed the envelope to her lover with a sigh of relief. She knew Lauderdale to be a strong man. “Now, Millie, listen further,” he said. “Say nothing of this to your father tonight. I won't mention our own affair tonight, either. Let your father go to Bartenstein tomorrow and get his answer. When he comes away he will find a note from me awaiting him at his office. Leave the rest to me. And now give me a kiss, and then I'll play you a fifty at billiards until dinner- time." It seemed to Millie that Lauderdale did his best to enliven her father and herself that evening, and when he said good night to her she LA UDERDALE ACTS 47 whispered to him that she felt quite cheerful again. Lauderdale went off with a smiling face, but the smile changed to a very black frown as soon as he was clear of the house. “Now for Mr. Marcus Bartenstein !” he said. He found a taxi-cab close by and bade the man drive him round to Princes Gate. It was then nearly midnight, but he knew that Barten- stein was a member of Parliament and would not return home until late. When he reached the house its master had not returned-a sleek- looking serving-man in morning dress informed him that sometimes Mr. Bartenstein came straight from the House, and sometimes did not -it was always a matter of uncertainty. But while they were talking a motor-brougham drew up and the famous financier stepped out and entered the hall. Whatever these two men felt at sight of each other (and each knew the other well, having met several times at the Oxenhams), they showed no signs of anything but politeness in presence of the serving-man. There were formal bows on each side, but the spectator remembered after- wards that there was no hand-shaking. “I apologize to you for calling at this late hour, Mr. Bartenstein," said Lauderdale, “but it is necessary that I should see you for a few moments on very urgent business." “Certainly, certainly, Mr. Lauderdale," answered the other. "After all, it is not so very late--we sometimes get much later hours than 48 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE this in the House I can assure you. In fact, midnight is an early hour for me. Chester,” he continued, turning to the man, “is the supper- tray set out in the study ?” "Everything is there, sir," replied Chester. “And 'I suppose all the servants are gone to bed? Well, you can go to bed, too, Chester," said the financier. "I shan't want you again tonight-I will let Mr. Lauderdale out myself. Now, Mr. Lauderdale, come to my study.' Chester went to bed and to sleep, and slept soundly until morning. It was his duty to carry his master hot water at seven o'clock, and at that hour he opened Mr. Bartenstein's door. But there was no Mr. Bartenstein there, and the bed had not been slept in. And Chester, first surprised, then suddenly afraid, set down the hot water and went round to the study. He opened the door. The full glare of electric light, which had never been turned off, showed to his frightened eyes something that sent him hurrying to the butler and the telephone. CHAPTER V THE SPANISH SWORD-STICK WHEN Chief Detective - Inspector Dwayne, hurriedly sent off from Scotland Yard on the summons of the local police, arrived at Mr. Bartenstein's residence in a taxi-cab, whose driver had not paid particular heed to speed regulations, he found himself met by a police- inspector and a divisional-surgeon who both looked exceedingly grave. “Well ?” said Dwayne as he sprang from the cab. “It's a case of murder without a doubt," said the police-inspector. "Certainly," said the divisional-surgeon. “Everything is just as we found it," continued the police-inspector. “Nothing had been touched when we came, and I locked up the rooms until your arrival. Come upstairs." The late Mr. Bartenstein's palatial residence that morning was in a state of confusion. In the beautiful hall, ornamented with rare examples of the sculptor's art, the June sunlight shone through tinted windows on a group of frightened 49 D 50 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE domestics who, notwithstanding the butler and housekeeper's admonitions, could not be kept back from an endeavour to hear the news. At the foot of the great staircase a couple of police- men kept guard ; another couple mounted guard at the door leading to the dead man's private rooms. These two stood aside as the three approached. The police-inspector drew a key from his pocket. He opened the door, admitted himself, Inspector Dwayne, and the divisional-surgeon, and relocked the door. They found themselves in a sort of sitting-room, richly but plainly furnished with an old cabinet or two, a few Chippendale chairs, a square table on which writing materials were spread out, two cases of finely bound books, and a deep lounge placed in front of the fire-place. A clock and a couple of ornaments stood on the mantelpiece ; one picture hung on each of the four walls. “I've noticed this set of rooms particularly, said the police-inspector. “This is the first of three. He's in the last." Inspector Dwayne, who was also noting every- thing in his own quick, observant way, walked into the next room. This was evidently the apartment of a private secretary. Handsomely furnished as it was, it had all the appurtenances of a business room-telephones, speaking-tubes, tapes. The solid, square desk in the middle was covered with documents neatly arranged and And here, instead of pictures, were maps, chiefly of South Africa, mounted and tied up. THE SPANISH SWORD-STICK 51 framed after a definite pattern, and hung on the walls at a convenient level for the eye. “It's in here," said the police-inspector, turn- ing the handle of the last door, "and, as I said, everything's just as we found it.” Inspector Dwayne walked into a room of considerable dimensions, brilliantly illuminated by electric light. He took a rapid glance around it as he entered. Low bookcases filled with volumes in magnificent bindings ran round the walls ; above them were rare pictures. Deep, luxurious chairs were everywhere-a great lounge stood between the two high windows, and before it was set out a table on which lay a supper-tray, nothing on which, Inspector Dwayne was quick to observe, had been disturbed. In the centre of the room was a vast desk covered with books And behind it, between it and the massive fireplace, Marcus Bartenstein lay dead. “You'll observe, Inspector," said the divisional- surgeon as they bent over the quiet figure, "that he's been stabbed through the heart, from behind. Until you came I refrained from making anything but a superficial examination, but we shall find that to be the fact. He had evidently been seated at this desk when the blow was dealt by his unseen assailant and, in the start which would follow, he had overbalanced, as you see from the upset chair, and fallen, rolling over on to his face, “How long,” asked Inspector Dwayne, “how and papers. 52 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE long do you suppose he had been dead, doctor, when you saw him ?” “It was exactly twenty-five past seven when I got here," answered the divisional-surgeon, “and I should say he had been dead about seven hours. Certainly not less than that." Inspector Dwayne straightened himself and glanced round the room again. “Dr. Vernon's coming along from the Yard,” he said. “You'd better make a thorough examination of the body on his arrival. Mean- while, who found it ?” "His valet, a man named Chester," answered the police-inspector. "Found him a minute or two after seven, and immediately telephoned for Chester was the last man to see him alive too,” he added. "Where is Chester ?” asked Inspector Dwayne. “He's all right," replied the police-inspector. “I told one of my men to keep an eye on him until we had time to ask him for further ticulars." Inspector Dwayne made no remark upon this -he began to look round the room more sys- tematically. So far as he could see, there was no sign of any struggle ; everything was in order. He assured himself, by a closer inspection, that the supper-tray had not been touched ; there were two or three sorts of sandwiches in covered dishes on it and a small bowl of soup ; neither soup nor sandwiches had been tasted. A decanter of whisky flanked a syphon of soda-water, and close us. par- THE SPANISH SWORD-STICK 53 by stood two tumblers; the tumblers were quite clean, and nothing had been drawn from the syphon or taken from the decanter, both of which were full. Inspector Dwayne deduced from that that the dead man had been struck down between the time of his entrance into the room and the time when he would, in the ordinary course of things, have had recourse to the supper-tray-in other words, that he had been murdered by someone concealed in the room when he had entered. Inspector Dwayne continued to saunter round. In one corner of the room, on the right of the fire-place, he saw a heavy curtain which hung from a solid brass rod fixed in the angle of the wall. Drawing this aside, he found himself confronted by an arch which slightly projected into the room itself. In this arch was set an oak door, heavily studded with square-headed nails. Inspector Dwayne tried the handle and found the door locked. He saw at a glance that the murderer could easily have hidden behind the curtain. And as he turned away he saw something else. In the angle of the projecting fire-place and the wall stood a collection of curious walking-sticks and canes, each more or less remarkable for its make, or its head, or its carving. One of these had fallen down. Inspector Dwayne picked it up. And he suddenly saw that he was holding a sword-stick which was not quite closed. The gleam of the steel shone under the electric light for a good half-inch at the jointing. 54 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE Inspector Dwayne made a sign to the others, and in their presence drew the blade from its sheath. It was of extraordinary fineness, tapering to an almost needle-like point. And it was stained with blood. At that moment a loud knocking at the door of the outer room was heard. The police- inspector went to answer it, and presently returned with Dr. Vernon. Inspector Dwayne presently showed him the sword-stick, and all four men examined it more closely. It was made of a dark cane, and its head was ornamented with a very heavy solid silver setting in the form of a globe, on the surface of which was an almost illegible inscription which Dr. Vernon unhesitatingly pronounced to be in Spanish, enclosing an equally illegible figure somewhat resembling an angel. All gazed at the blood- stains on the blade. "That,” said the divisional-surgeon, “is exactly the weapon to have caused the wound from what I have deduced so far. But we shall know more after a proper examination.' The doctors and the officials now made arrangements for the removal and examination of the body, and when these were complete, and the dead man taken to another apartment, Inspector Dwayne, who had placed the sword- stick in a place of safety, went in search of the valet Chester, whom he asked to accompany him to the scene of the murder. Chester, who had evidently suffered a terrible shock by the dis- THE SPANISH SWORD-STICK 55 covery of his master's body, displayed con- siderable uneasiness at going into the study. “I understand that you found Mr. Barten- stein's dead body?” said Inspector Dwayne. “I did, sir," replied Chester. “Just as the police saw it when they first came ?” said the Inspector. “Nothing, sir, was touched ; the butler and I immediately closed and locked the door,” said the valet. “And you were the last person to see your master alive?" “Except the villain who killed him, sir !” said Chester. “Did he come home alone last night ?” “He came home alone, sir, but he didn't come up here alone,” replied the valet. “Just before he returned a gentleman drove up here in a taxi-cab and asked to see my master, who had not returned. While we were talking at the door-all the rest of the household being gone to bed, sir--my master came up in his motor-brougham. A few words passed between him and the gentleman, and then Mr. Bartenstein, after asking me if his usual supper-tray was up here, told me that I could go to bed, as he would let the gentleman out. Then they went upstairs together—and I never saw my master again until I found him lying dead this morning, cluded Chester with some emotion. "Can you describe the gentleman ?” asked the Inspector. con- 56 CASE THE BARTENSTEIN “Yes, sir-a tall, handsome young man, very soldierly in appearance, with a very bronzed face and reddish-brown moustache, sir. Wearing evening dress, sir, and had a black overcoat of dull cloth on. Struck me as an officer, sir,” said the valet. “Did you hear his name?” asked Inspector Dwayne. Chester shook his head sorrowfully. “I did, sir-leastways, I heard my master speak it, but I was hanging up his coat at the moment, and I didn't quite catch it, and I've forgotten it,” he said. “All I'm certain of is that it ended in ‘dale'-Littledale or something like that." "Had you ever seen this gentleman before ?" “Never, sir, and I'm sure he'd never been here before. All of us have been with Mr. Bartenstein since he came back from South Africa five years ago, and none of us ever recollect such a gentleman calling,” answered the valet. “You see that curtain ? There's a door behind it,” said the Inspector. “What does the door lead to ?” "To a turret-stair, sir, built out at the corner of the house,” said Chester. “My master had it made so that he could go straight down from this room to the garden. You'll find the key on his private bunch, sir." Inspector Dwayne produced the sword-stick. “Have you ever seen this before ?” he said. BOOK THE SECOND Mystery of the Sword-Stick CHAPTER I AT SCOTLAND YARD In the course of a lengthy and considerably diversified experience, Inspector Dwayne had known a good many surprising things, but he was never so completely surprised in his life as when Lieutenant Lauderdale presented himself in the flesh before him, and he stared at him as if he had been a ghost instead of a very palpable and healthy body. And when he found his tongue he made what seemed a fatuous remark. “So you are really the--the gentleman who called at Bartenstein's house at twelve o'clock last night ?” Lauderdale took a chair at the side of the Inspector's desk. "I certainly called at Mr. Bartenstein's house at-I should say five minutes to twelve last night,” he answered. Inspector Dwayne continued to stare at him. “God bless my soul !” he said. “And you came-here!" “Of course I came here," said Lauderdale. "I came as soon as I heard the news. I have 61 AT SCOTLAND YARD 63 “Well, really, sir,” he said, "you're either very innocent, or you're a splendid specimen of what our French neighbours term 'sang fraw'. Why, don't you see, sir, that you're in very great danger, that you're—that is, if you are, as you admit you are, the person who was with the murdered man at midnight-under suspicion of being his murderer ?” Lauderdale stared at him. " “I !” he exclaimed. “Yes, sir, you! What do you suppose these bills are for, sir ?" said the Inspector, tapping the proof sheet. "To post all over England and Scotland and Ireland and Wales—ay, and all over Europe. Now that you admit that you are that person—why, we shall be saved that trouble. But we've already wired that description to all the ports already, and they have it at all the stations. I wonder you were able to get into London this afternoon, sir, without being arrested.' "I came in my motor,” remarked Lauderdale, “Then I suppose you will arrest me now that I am here?” he added. "Softly, sir, softly !” said the Inspector. “I don't know yet that you really are the man who was with Bartenstein last night.” “Of course I am !” interrupted Lauderdale. “Though I dare say Chester would identify you,” continued the Inspector, holding up a finger, "and to tell you the truth, I'd rather have had the pleasure of tracking you down than of 64 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE night ?" seeing you walk in. Eh? But now look here, Lieutenant, I've no warrant for your arrest, so you're not under arrest—do you mind telling me, as I'm in charge of the case, what happened last “Certainly not,” replied Lauderdale. “That's what I came to do. I can tell you in a few words. I called on Mr. Bartenstein at five minutes to twelve last night. He drove up to his house while I was inquiring for him. He asked me to go up to his study with him. I accompanied him there, delivered a message to him with which I was charged, exchanged a few words of con- versation with him and terminated my visit. He took me downstairs himself and let me out. I found a taxi-cab in Knightsbridge, and drove straight home to my rooms in Jermyn Street. I was not with Mr. Bartenstein more than six or eight minutes.” "Did you notice anything in his room, sir ?" asked the Inspector. "Nothing, except that it was a very beautiful room, and that there was a supper-tray laid out there. Indeed," said Lauderdale, “he asked me to have some whisky-and-soda, but I refused." “I take it from that,” said Inspector Dwayne, "that you were not on friendly terms ?" “Quite true," replied Lauderdale. “We were not. But we had no quarrel.” "Not any high words last night ?" asked the Inspector “ No," said Lauderdale ; "I discharged my AT SCOTLAND 65 YARD mission, begged formally that it might be respected, and left him.' Inspector Dwayne opened a locked drawer in his desk. He drew out an official-looking envelope, and from it took a square envelope, which Lauderdale recognized as that in which Millicent Oxenham had enclosed her letter to Mr. Bartenstein. He held it out to his visitor, and Lauderdale saw with a feeling of repulsion that there was blood on it. “Was your mission to Bartenstein the delivery of this letter ?” asked the Inspector. "It was,” replied Lauderdale. "How came you to deliver it ?” “Because I am engaged to be married to Miss Oxenham,” said Lauderdale. “This proposal of which Miss Oxenham speaks, now, in this letter," continued Inspector Dwayne. “Am I to understand that it refers to a proposal of marriage made to her by Bartenstein ?" “I am sorry to say it does,” replied Lauderdale. “A proposal most distasteful to Miss Oxenham." The Inspector replaced the letter in his drawer and locked it up again. “Then, of course, you and the dead man were rivals,” he said. "That's rather a damaging fact against you, Lieutenant." “We were not rivals !" answered Lauderdale hotly. “Mr. Bartenstein made a certain proposal to Miss Oxenham which was a gross insult. But into that I shall not enter." Inspector Dwayne showed no particular desire E A T 67 SCOTLAND YARD stains upon it, and then replacing it in the sheath, handed the whole back to the Inspector and resumed his seat. “This is one of the most extraordinary things I ever heard of, Inspector," he said. “That is most certainly my sword-stick. It has been in our family for four generations, and we prize it as an heirloom. It was brought from Spain by my great-grandfather about the middle of the Peninsular War-he acquired it under very romantic circumstances into which I need not go. It has been handed down from father to son ever since and jealously guarded until, as I told you just now, I either lost or had it stolen about three weeks ago, soon after my return." “Under what circumstances, sir?" inquired the Inspector, who was beginning to be deeply interested. “These," replied Lauderdale. “I went one morning to walk in the Park, carrying the sword- stick with me. It was about noon, and the Row was very full. As I had been out of England for nearly four years, the sight was very novel to me, and I hung over the railings for awhile, watching the people riding up and down. Í have some recollection that I placed the sword- stick against the railings while I lighted a cigar. Possibly after that, never dreaming that it was not safe, I may have continued to stand there, or to lean over the railings without immediately resuming my hold of it. At any rate, when I finally put down my hand for it it was gone." 68 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE “Clear case of stealing," said the Inspector. “Well, so I thought at first, as I walked rapidly up and down the Row looking for any- body who might be in possession of it,” said Lauderdale. "I saw nothing of it. Then I thought that possibly somebody might have picked it up by mistake. I stayed over an hour in the Park, looking at every man's stick or cane, but I did not see mine.' “No, of course not !” said the Inspector. "I was naturally much grieved," continued Lauderdale, “and I didn't know exactly what to do." “Why didn't you report your loss to the police ?” asked Inspector Dwayne. “Well, really, I didn't know that that was usual, or I should have done so," replied Lauderdale. “What occurred to me was to offer a reward for its recovery. So I wrote out an advertisement offering twenty pounds, and had it inserted in two papers." ?” asked the Inspector. “The Times and the Morning Post," answered Lauderdale. Inspector Dwayne laughed heartily. "Why there, sir ?” he inquired. “Because I thought that they were most likely to be read by people who frequent the Park and the Row at that time,” replied Lauderdale. “You should have advertised in one of the cheap papers," he said. “The stick was, of “What papers AT SCOTLAND YARD 69 course, stolen while you were lighting your cigar, or just after, and At this moment an officer entered the room and made a whispered communication to Inspector Dwayne, who at once nodded his head. He turned to Lauderdale with a smile as the officer left the room. “Here's a step further, Lieutenant,” he said. “There's a young man coming in who's called to say that he can tell us something about the sword-stick !" CHAPTER II STORY OF THE LAME YOUNG MAN THERE now came into the Inspector's room a young man whose appearance was somewhat striking—that is, so far as his head and face were concerned. His head was more than usually large and well shaped, and was covered by a mass of thick and very black, curling hair which framed a lofty and broad forehead, which was of an ivory whiteness. The face beneath it was of the same pallor ; the features were finely cut and intellectual, but there was small sign of life in them except in the eyes, which were as dark as the hair, and unusually bright and piercing. As for the rest of this young man, it was plain to see that he had been much afflicted from birth, for he had a decided hump between his shoulders, was very stunted in his growth, and suffered still further from a shortness in his left leg, which necessitated his using a boot to which a sole of at least eight inches in thickness had been affixed. He was plainly but well dressed, and had the appearance of a person of education. This young man, coming with the limp 70 THE 71 L A ME YOUNG MAN characteristic of his infirmity across the room, and supporting himself by the help of a stout walking-stick, made a polite bow to the Inspector seated at his desk, and then glanced at Lauder- dale. “Good evening, sir," said the Inspector. “I understand that you can give me some informa- tion about the sword-stick which is mentioned in the newspaper accounts of the Bartenstein case ? You may speak freely before this gentle- man; as a matter of fact, he is directly concerned in the case. Take a chair, sir.' The lame young man took the chair which Inspector Dwayne pointed out, and regarded Lauderdale attentively. "If I am not mistaken, sir," he said presently, "you are the gentleman whose appearance is described in the evening newspapers ?" “Quite so, " answered Lauderdale, smiling. “That shows how accurate the description is. The new-comer regarded him still more atten- tively. “Well, sir," he said, “I pride myself on being something of a physiognomist, and I am very sure that you are no murderer. If you are under suspicion of this crime, I hope that what I can tell may be of service in establishing your innocence." “Thank you,” said Lauderdale. “The question is, however, what you can tell, Mr. I do not know your name," said the Inspector. 72 THE CASE BARTENSTEIN “My name, sir,” answered the lame young man, "is Albany Hasleton, and I live in Upper Berkeley Street, which, as you know, is near the Marble Arch.” “You have no objection to my making a note of that, Mr Hasleton ?” asked the Inspector. “None at all, sir, nor of anything that I tell you,” replied Mr. Hasleton. "That is what I came here for. What I have to tell you is that I believe, nay, am firmly convinced, that the sword-stick which is described in the news- papers as having been found in Mr Bartenstein's study, was for a short while in my possession some little time ago I say I am firmly con- vinced—if I could see the sword-stick I could be absolutely positive." Inspector Dwayne considered this statement a moment ; then he went over to the cupboard in which he had placed the stick and, taking it out again, handed it to Mr. Hasleton who, at the mere sight of it, nodded his head emphatically. “Yes,” he said, “that is the very sword-stick, without doubt." He placed the stick on the Inspector's desk ; the Inspector sat down again to his note-book. “If you will permit me," continued Mr. Hasleton, “I will tell you the story in my own fashion, and if I seem to be a little prolix it is simply because I am unused to these matters, and if I am to be clear must begin from a begin- ning. You observe, gentlemen, that it did not please Providence to favour me with its usual THE LA ME YOUNG MAN 73 rooms. gifts nor, in truth, with over good health–I am, indeed, for some part of the year pretty much of an invalid, and never at any time very robust. I am thankful to say, however, that I possess a competency which is more than sufficient for my needs, and I am comfortably lodged where I am, and with my books, my pictures, and my piano, I spend a very pleasant existence.' The Inspector here murmured a species of congratulation on the good fortune of his visitor. “Naturally," continued Mr. Hasleton, “it is impossible for one situated as I am to go much abroad, and I spend most of my time in my But every morning, unless the weather is unfavourable, I walk into the Park, and occasionally, if the day is unusually fine and I am feeling very well in health, I extend my ramble as far as Kensington Gardens--where, sir,” he added with a bow and a smile to Lauder- dale, “I believe, if I may say so without offence, I saw you pass me but yesterday morning.” Lauderdale, who was as much amused by the lame young man's quaintness of speech and old- fashioned manner as the Inspector was fretful of what seemed to threaten long-windedness on his part, nodded his head without replying. “Well, gentlemen, about three weeks since," Mr. Hasleton went on, "I had gone out for my morning walk, and about half-way between noon and one o'clock-I always dine at half past that hour—I was sitting on one of the chairs in the Park in a quiet spot (to be precise, it was under 74 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE one of the trees near the Police Barracks), when a tidily attired but obviously poor man came up to me, carrying a lengthy object which was wrapped up in a much crumpled newspaper. He looked at me questioningly, hesitated, and, finally approaching me, asked me if I would like to buy a fine walking-stick. I answered that I was already possessed of several walking-sticks and had no desire to acquire more. “'Yes, sir,' said he, but you don't often get the chance of buying a stick like this. Allow me to show it to you.' “ 'You may show it to me if you choose,' said I, “but you are not to suppose that I am encourag- ing you to do so.' "However, this seemed encouragement enough for him, for he immediately unwrapped the stick which lies there on your table, Inspector, and handed it to me. And naturally I was very much struck by its beauty, by the old silver knob, and by the half-worn-out inscription. “ "This is a beautiful stick,' I said. "Why do you wish to sell it ?' “He thereupon gave me a long and somewhat wearisome account-you know how apt some people are to spin their stories out- "Yes, indeed, sir," said the Inspector feelingly. -a long and wearisome account," continued the story-teller, "of his having come down in the world and being obliged to sell the few little treasures which he possessed. He was out of work and had a wife and family to support, or 76 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE one morning I had some business in Mortimer Street-I was going there, in fact, to look at some old china to which I had a mind—and I took my latest acquisition with me, more, I think, from vanity than from anything else, for I purposed strolling down Regent Street after finishing my business, and thought it would become me. Now there are, as you know, gentlemen, several curio shops in Mortimer Street, and I was so much fascinated by their contents that I lingered in several of them. And in one, the proprietor of which is known to me, Mr. Aaron Abrahams, a very worthy person, I laid the stick on the counter while I examined a very remarkable piece of Wedgwood which I had some idea of purchasing. Mr. Abrahams picked it up “ 'That's a beautiful cane, Mr. Hasleton,' he said. “Where did you find such a fine work ?' "I was not minded to tell him all that I have told you, so I merely observed that I had picked it up, and that I agreed with him in his estimate of the workmanship. " "You wouldn't like to sell this, I suppose, Mr. Hasleton ?' he said. 'I don't suppose it's got any historical value like your Wellington stick, but I happen to have a customer who has a taste for this sort of thing, and I know he'd like it.' “ 'No,' I replied, 'I don't know that I should, Mr. Abrahams.' “ 'Well, I'll tell you what,' said he. 'The THE 77 L A ME YOUNG MAN 66 last time you were here you admired those two bits of Sheffield plate there, and I offered them to you for six guineas, but you said you'd already spent all you meant to spend this quarter. Now, I'll speak fair by you—I'll give you the two pieces for this stick. What do you say ?' " "That you see your way to some very profitable deal, Mr. Abrahams,' I replied. 'No,' he answered, “it isn't that. I shall make a profit, naturally, but not a great one. I know exactly what the old gentleman will give. My actual profit on the transaction will be under three pounds, Mr. Hasleton.' “Well, gentlemen, I considered this proposa while I affected to examine the Wedgwood. Now, I much admired the two pieces of Sheffield plate, and desired to possess them, and as I had only given a pound for the sword-stick, and beyond its beauty had no great affection for it, and, moreover, already possessed many interesting sticks, I accepted Mr. Abraham's offer. I handed him the sword-stick and he handed me the Sheffield plate. This obliged me to send his shop-boy out to purchase me a stout staff, for owing to my infirmity I cannot walk without one, but that is neither here nor there. And that, gentlemen, is all that I can tell you as regards my connection with this strange matter." Inspector Dwayne, who secretly considered all this as one of the strangest affairs in which he had ever been concerned, was pondering over certain things in Mr. Hasleton's statement, when 78 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE the official who had announced that young gentleman's arrival entered the room again, and again made a whispered communication to him. The Inspector uttered an exclamation. “Upon my honour,” he said, “I shall believe this stick is bewitched ! Here is another gentle- man with something to say about it. A Spanish gentleman. Of course, the stick was brought from Spain. Show him in, Wilson.' CHAPTER III STORY OF THE HIDALGO's CURSE The person who was now shown into Inspector Dwayne's room might, but for his modern dress, have stepped out of one of the canvases of Velasquez. He was a ta He was a tall and very stately gentleman, of a clear olive complexion, very black of hair and eye, and possessed of a pair of formidable moustaches and a small beard, care- fully trimmed to a point. Irreproachably clad in the finest of black cloth, and wearing immacu- late linen, he made a figure of distinction as, drawing his heels together and executing a sweep of his glossy, wide-brimmed, high-crowned hat, he saluted those present with a profound bow. “Good morning, sir,” said Inspector Dwayne, rising and placing a chair for the new-comer. "Be seated, sir.' He glanced at the card which Wilson had given him. “Mr. Carlos “The Señor Carlos Juan Olivares,” said the Spanish gentleman in a deep voice. The Inspector made a polite bow, and when his visitor was seated resumed his own chair. "I understand, señor, that you wish to tell me 79 80 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE way, sir ?” something about the sword-stick which is men- tioned in the newspapers in connection with the Bartenstein case ?” he said. Señor Olivares made a deprecating motion of his handsome head. “Pardon, sir, no,” he replied. “That is not primarily, though I have no doubt that I could tell you much. My object in attending you was not so much to give as to receive information.” “Oh!" said the Inspector. “And in what "I have reason to believe," answered the Spaniard, who spoke very slowly but in excellent English, “that the sword-stick which you describe as having been found in the now deceased Mr. Bartenstein's room is one which, if everyone had their own, is my property." Inspector Dwayne before Señor Olivares's entrance had replaced the sword- stick in the cupboard, glanced at Lauderdale. “Well, señor," he said, "here is another gentleman who also claims the sword-stick as his property, and who, moreover, says that it has been the property of his family for over a hundred years—in fact, since the first campaign in the Peninsular War." Señor Olivares regarded Lauderdale with a calm and dignified look, and bent his head courteously: "Just so," said he. “It was about that time that it passed out of the keeping of its rightful owner, my great-grandsire.” who, THE HIDALGO's CURSE 81 “My great-grandfather, señor," said Lauder- dale, “became possessed of the sword-stick in Spain under very romantic circumstances." "It was given to him, sir, by a young Spanish lady with whom he had an affair of love,” said Señor Olivares quietly. "Is it not so, sir ?" “Well, yes, that is so,” answered Lauderdale, somewhat'taken aback. "I see you know some- thing of the story.” "I know all of it, sir,” said Señor Olivares. “For the young lady was an ancestor of my own. Sir, may I ask you a question ?" "As many as you please, señor," replied Lauderdale. "How did your great-grandfather meet his death ?" inquired the Spaniard. “He was drowned at sea,” replied Lauderdale. “And your grandfather ?” "He broke his neck in the hunting-field.” “And-you will pardon me, señor-if your father is dead, how did he die ?” asked the questioner. “My father is dead,” answered Lauderdale. "He was killed at the Battle of Colenso during the Boer War." Señor Olivares made a low bow. “Quite so, sir,” he said. “That is exactly what I expected to hear. Indeed, I could not have heard anything else.” “But why, señor ?" asked Lauderdale. “Because it is what I expected-nay, was certain to hear,” replied the Spaniard. “Were I F 82 THE CASE BARTENSTEIN you, sir, I should rejoice that the sword-stick had passed out of my possession." “Well, I don't rejoice," said Lauderdale with characteristic British bluntness. “The thing's been an heirloom in our family for over a hundred years, and I don't mean to lose possession of it if I can help it. I don't care whom it belonged to in the beginning—your family or any other family—I know it was given to my great-grand- father and therefore became his. And again I ask, why did you expect to hear that my ancestors died as they did ?” Señor Olivares bent his large and melancholy eyes more deeply on the young Englishman. “Because, sir, they could not have died in any other way,” he answered. “The sword-stick is accursed-until it is returned to its rightful owner-myself.” “Oh, bosh !" answered Lauderdale. “Who's going to believe that sort of rot at this time of day?" “It is nevertheless as I say, sir," affirmed the Spaniard. “Consider now-your great grandsire is drowned ; your grandfather broke his neck ; your father dies in battle-a most honourable death, sir, but one of violence. And over you yourself at this moment hangs the shadow of death by violence." “What do you mean, sir ?” exclaimed Lauder- dale, half angrily. “Are you not suspected of the murder of Mr. Bartenstein, and on very strong evidence ?" THE HIDALGO's CURSE 83 said the Spaniard. "I tell you, sir, the sword- stick is accursed so long as it remains out of the proprietorship of its rightful owner. What hap- pened to Bartenstein when he became possessed of it?" “Ah,” broke in Inspector Dwayne who, at this juncture, saw matters coming more within his own province, “now we're touching on some- thing practical. What I want to get at just now, Lieutenant Lauderdale, is how did Bartenstein get hold of that sword-stick ? Mind, I don't say that it would clear you of suspicion if he did buy it, for you might have seen it in his room, picked it up and used it upon him in a moment of rage or temper, but if we can prove that you didn't carry it there with you, it's a point con- siderably in your favour. Now, Mr. Hasleton here had brought us to the point where he parted with the stick to a Mr. Aaron Abrahams, when the señor came in. What do you suggest, Mr. Hasleton ?" The lame young man, who had remained silent since the entrance of Señor Olivares, but had shown great interest in that gentleman and his statements, now became more animated. “It seems to me,” said he, “that the first thing to do is to find out if Señor Olivares is talking of the same sword-stick that we were discussing. Although both he and Lieutenant Lauderdale are evidently conversant with the romantic cir- cumstances under which the stick passed from Spanish to English hands, the señor has not put 84 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE forward any evidence to show that they are speaking of the same stick, or that he is entitled to it." “Very well put, Mr. Hasleton,” said the Inspector. “Now, señor, what do you say to that?” “Merely this, sir,” answered the Spaniard, drawing out a pocket-book and producing from it a document which had become yellow with age, "that I have here a paper, written by my grandsire, Don Raman Olivares, of Seville, in which the history of the sword-stick is set forth. Now, strange as it may seem, it is only recently that I became possessed of this paper, and there- fore with the story of the stick. I have been settled in England for many years as a wine- merchant in the City-in fact, London is now my home, though I am not, and do not intend to be, naturalized, much as I admire this great nation. Very recently, on the death of my father, I received a chest full of family documents, and in going through them I discovered this. Until then I had no knowledge of the matter--if my father had, he certainly never mentioned it to me. “Does the document throw any light on the matter, señor ?” asked Inspector Dwayne. “If not "That is precisely how you take it, sir," replied the Spaniard, unfolding the time-stained paper. “There is here a complete description of the sword-stick, which tallies entirely with that given THE HIDALGO'S CURSE 85 in this afternoon's newspapers, and there is also the history of it and the curse attaching to it. If that is of moment to the case- The Inspector by his manner seemed to show that he did not think it did, but Mr. Hasleton, who was obviously inquisitive, suggested that the history should certainly be placed before them. "Well, simply then, señor,” said Inspector Dwayne, glancing at his watch. “I have further work in this matter tonight-in which I shall want your assistance, Mr. Hasleton. And yours, Lieutenant,” he added with a significant glance at Lauderdale. “Well, señor, what is it ?” Señor Olivares, putting on the bridge of his fine nose a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, consulted the document in his hand. "You must know, gentlemen," he said, "that although I prefer to rank amongst you as a plain and unpretentious citizen, I am of noble blood, being descended from the great Gaspar de Guzman, Count Duke of Olivares, who was in his time the powerful minister of Philip the Fourth. “Now it was to Olivares that this sword- stick was presented by His Majesty himself, and the inscription, which is described as now being almost illegible, was chased upon the silver head by direct orders of Philip himself. Whatever value the Count Duke placed upon this royal gift does not appear, but it eventually passed into the keeping of my branch of the family, represented about a hundred and seventy years 86 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE ago by a hidalgo of a very proud and fierce temperament who, being enamoured of this link between ourselves and Philip the Fourth, wrote a history of the sword-stick on parchment, in which he commanded it to be kept for ever as a family heirloom, and appended to the history a curse which set forth that whoever suffered it to leave the family, or whoever received it from the family, should die a violent and sudden death. It remained in the family until the time of the Peninsular War, when an English officer--the great-grandfather of this gentleman, I presume—became the family's guest and par- ticipated in an amour with the daughter of the house. She, knowing that he had a great fancy for this stick, and either being ignorant of the curse or caring nothing for it, gave it to him when he left, and concealed the matter from her people for some time. Then it passed out of possession of my family. Since I received and read this document I have done all I could to discover the whereabouts of the stick, but as I did not know the name of your ancestor, sir,” concluded Señor Olivares with a polite bow to Lauderdale, “I was unable to trace it until the event of last night brought it before the public." “What became of the young lady, señor, who gave the stick away?" asked Mr. Hasleton. “I am curious to know." “Sir," replied the Spaniard, "she was stabbed to the heart by a disappointed lover! And now, THE HIDALGO's CURSE 87 sir,” he added to Inspector Dwayne, “I trust that I have proved my claim, and that I may be per- mitted to resume possession of my family's property. Inspector Dwayne stared blankly at Señor Olivares and then laughed. “Oh, dear me, no !” he said. “You can't expect that, sir. That stick is under safe lock and key and will be wanted at-at the trial, if there is a trial,” he added. “May I, then, be permitted to look upon so historic a relic ?" asked Señor Olivares. "You will understand my feelings ?” The Inspector saw no reason to object to that and, unlocking the cupboard, he once more produced the sword-stick and permitted the Spaniard to handle it. Señor Olivares did so with great reverence, and then departed with many formal bows. “And now, gentlemen,” the Inspector said, “we must really get to business. Mr. Hasleton, I want you to take me to see this man, Aaron Abrahams. And you, Lieutenant, must come with us. I'm afraid I can't let you run off just yet." CHAPTER IV GRANDFATHER PUNCTUALITY INSPECTOR DWAYNE now summoned a co-adjutor, one Sergeant Mitchell, with whom he had a whispered consultation, after which he announced his readiness to depart and his intention of taking Mitchell with him. “And as I don't want you to be seen any more than is possible, Lieutenant,” he said, "for the description of you in the newspapers is so accurate that any of our people would know you, we'll just get out by the quickest way we can and find a taxi-cab in Whitehall.” This being done, the four men were speedily on their way to Mortimer Street, Mr. Hasleton greatly enjoying the sensation of being brought into the thick of things. As a rule his life was spent in comparative uneventfulness. To find himself suddenly involved, even in a minor way, in a drama or tragedy, as it might yet be, was a pleasant change from his usual peaceful atmosphere of books, pictures, and curios. “Abrahams is sure to be closed,” he said, as they 88 GRANDFATHER PUNCTUALITY 89 swung into Mortimer Street from Regent Street. “It is now nearly eight o'clock and he always closes at seven to the minute. But his private door is round the corner from the shop, and he'll let me in—I have been there before. You had better let me get out of the cab a few doors away, Inspector, and I will walk on and prepare him. He's rather a curious man, Abrahams, and if he saw a large concourse at his door, might not be disposed to admit us.” Inspector Dwayne considered this to be a wise suggestion, and Mr. Hasleton was, therefore, presently set down, and with the aid of his stick moved away as fast as he could round the corner, while his companions waited in the cab. In five minutes he reappeared, waving his hand. “It's all right,” he said. “He is at his repast after the day's toil, and would naturally see no one under ordinary circumstances, but when I explained the urgent nature of our business he consented to receive us. Having paid and discharged the driver, who favoured them all, and especially Lauderdale, with a minute inspection, the party was led by Mr. Hasleton to a door in a side street, where stood Mr. Aaron Abrahams himself, a tall, elderly person, whose chief garment was a long gabardine-like coat which reached nearly to his heels, where its fringes swept a pair of enormous carpet-slippers. Mr. Abrahams, as his name implied, was of a decidedly Semitic type of countenance. His grey hair, which overflowed 90 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE his ears and descended upon his collar, was surmounted by a rusty-black velvet cap; his large nose supported a pair of enormous round spectacles, and he looked altogether like a wise old goat meditating on many difficult problems. “Come in, gentlemen, come in !” said Mr. Abrahams. Anything that I can be of use to you in, I shall be happy to do. If you will follow Mr. Hasleton, gentlemen, he knows the way, and I will remain to close the door. Into my little parlour, Mr. Hasleton, if you please, sir." It was quite a feat of navigation to make a clear course for Mr. Abraham's parlour, for the passage was by no means wide, and it was so much encumbered by such trifling matters as grandfather clocks, oak presses, and bureaus, Chippendale chairs and other flotsam and jet- sam of the old-furniture trade, that it was with difficulty that Mr. Hasleton's personally con- ducted party made its way along without knocking heads against this or breaking shins against that. They were safely led, however, into a small parlour which Mr. Abrahams appeared to utilize in a three-fold capacity- first as a species of overflow depository from the shop ; second as a bed-sitting-room ; and third as a kitchen. There was excellent olfactory evidence that Mr. Abrahams was supping off steak-and-onions, and washing the solids down with rum-and-water, and Inspector Dwayne GRAND FATHER PUNCTUALITY 9I begged him to continue his repast, which invitation the furniture- and antique-dealer compromised by placing his dinner in the oven, where, he said, it would keep warm until they had finished their little conversation. "And that need not keep you long, Mr. Abrahams," said the Inspector, who then gave the old man an outline of his business, during which the dealer regarded Lauderdale with great interest. “Now," he said, “have you any idea as to how that sword-stick came into Mr. Bartenstein's possession from yours ? We know he was a collector-did you sell it him ?" “No, sir,” replied Mr. Abrahams. "No, I did not. I have heard of Mr. Bartenstein as a collector, but he never came to me so far as I remember.” “But you sold the stick, of course ?” said Inspector Dwayne. "Certainly, sir, I did," answered the dealer. "I sold it three days after I acquired it from Mr. Hasleton to an old man who is well known to us dealers, and who, I knew, would buy it. He is a very curious and eccentric person, and the general opinion is that he collects for some big people behind him, because with him price is nothing." “What's his name?” asked the Inspector. Mr. Abrahams laughed. “The only name anyone knows him by, sir, is Grandfather Punctuality,” he replied. 92 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE “Grandfather Punctuality !” exclaimed the Inspector. “What's that mean ?” "It's on account of his method of doing business,” answered the dealer. “When he takes a fancy to anything and has agreed upon the price, he names a day and an hour on which he will return and pay for it. He will never pay cash, nor give a deposit, but he is always back to the minute, at the appointed time, and pays over the sum—no matter what the amount is- in gold. That's how he got the name of Grand- father Punctuality.” “Where does he live ?” asked the Inspector. “Ah, sir, that's what nobody knows !" replied Mr. Abrahams. "He's one of the sort that keeps his private affairs very close. But I know where you would be almost certain to find him at this time. “Where, then ?" said Inspector Dwayne. "Well, sir, if you go along Holborn you will find, before you come to the First Avenue Hotel there, a little narrow passage which turns up in the direction of Bedford Row," answered Mr. Abrahams. “There are several old shops there, where curiosities and antiques of one sort or another are sold, but you will see one in which there is practically nothing in the window but old prints-name of Marks over the door, sir. That's where Grandfather Punctuality is usually to be found of an evening-he and Marks are great friends, sir—they drink to- gether.” GRANDFATHER PUNCTUALITY 93 Inspector Dwayne thanked Mr. Abrahams for his courtesy, and the party once more navi- gated the passage and regained the fresh air. “We'll go straight to Holborn,” said the Inspector, signalling for another cab. “And I only hope we shall find this old Grandfather Punctuality there. You may depend upon it that he sold the stick to Bartenstein." By Inspector's Dwayne's instructions the driver of the taxi-cab which they now entered, instead of taking them to the Holborn entrance of the passage described by Mr. Abrahams, drove them along Theobald's Road and down Bedford Row, where he was instructed to wait. There were very few people about when they alighted, and the narrow passage was deserted. “Look here, we mustn't all go down there,' said the Inspector. “Lieutenant Lauderdale, you come with me, and you, Mr. Hasleton, stay with Sergeant Mitchell. If we can find this old man, we'll try to give you a sight of him, but we mustn't go in force-we might frighten him." Lauderdale and Inspector Dwayne soon found the little shop which Mr. Abrahams had told him of an affair of a small window, with very dirty panes, within which were hung a quantity of old prints, most of them in a faded and mildewed condition. There was a light at the back of the shop, and looking between the prints they were able to obtain a view of the place without being seen themselves. Lauderdale found himself gazing at a scene GRANDFATHER PUNCTUALITY 95 Inspector Dwayne, motioning Lauderdale to follow him, walked down the shop to where Grandfather Punctuality sat at the table, pipe in mouth and glass at hand. In front of him lay an evening newspaper, black with great head-lines about the Bartenstein case. “He's as deaf as a post,” said Mr. Marks, following them. “You'll have to shout at him." Grandfather Punctuality evidently heard no sound until the Inspector tapped him on the shoulder, when he looked up and stared at the two strangers. But when his eyes fell on Lauder- dale a curious expression covered his face ; he rose slowly from his chair, and taking a step nearer the young man peered at him as if searching for something. It was a queer face that then brought itself so near to Lauderdale's -the face of a very, very old man, seamed, wrinkled, scarred, crafty, sly, but clever, framed in a mass of white hair which straggled all round it. There was a strange light in the old eyes as they regarded Lauderdale, and it deepened as the old man went back to the table and, nodding his head with great satisfaction, tapped that paragraph in the newspaper in which Chester's description of Lauderdale was given. “He's recognized you," said Inspector Dwayne. “Here, Grandfather, I want to ask you a question. You bought an old sword-stick from Mr. Abra- hams in Mortimer Street-did you sell it to Mr. Bartenstein ?" 96 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE The old man heard this shouted in his ear, but he paid no heed to it—he sipped at his glass, relighted his pipe, and turned again to the news- paper. “He'll not answer you, if he's not minded to, said Mr. Marks. "He's very queer to deal with." Inspector Dwayne tapped Grandfather Punc- tuality on the shoulder. “You'd better answer my question,” he said. "I'm from Scotland Yard, and I want to know if you sold that stick to Bartenstein." Grandfather Punctuality made a show of relighting his pipe. Bartenstein ?” he said presently, in a wheezy voice. “Yes, Bartenstein,” answered the Inspector. “Come, now !" “Ah !” said Grandfather Punctuality. “Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't—I'm getting a very old man, and my memory's a-going.” "He's having you," said the friendly Mr. Marks. "His memory's as good as ever, espe- cially about money. You can bet your boots it was 'him sold that stick to Bartenstein-he's collected lots o' things for him.” “Come along, sir," said the Inspector. “I've seen enough for what I want-I don't think there's much doubt about the history of the sword-stick at that stage. He turned away, and Lauderdale was about to follow him, when he suddenly felt his wrist GRANDFATHER PUNCTUALITY 97 clutched as in the grip of steel. He turned to find Grandfather Punctuality's burning eyes fixed on his own. “Did you drive it through his heart ?” he whispered. “Did you—did you—did you ? Excellent young man ! His heart, eh—Barten- stein's heart ! Excellent !" CHAPTER V THE SWORD-STICK DISAPPEARS THESE enigmatic words were spoken, or rather hissed, by Grandfather Punctuality in such a scarcely audible tone, that only' Lauderdale caught them. But Inspector Dwayne, turning at that moment, saw the clutch on the young man's arm and the fierce gleam in the old collector's eyes, and stopped, wondering at the meaning of the scene. Grandfather Punctual- ity's animation thereupon died away as suddenly as it had arisen ; he slouched back to his chair, picked up his pipe, and became oblivious of all around him. “What was he saying to you, Lieutenant ?" asked the Inspector, as they emerged into the passage. “He seemed a bit energetic, I thought.' Lauderdale repeated word for word exactly what Grandfather Punctuality had said. In- spector Dwayne elevated his eyebrows, removed his bowler hat, and wiped his bald head. "Well, look at that now !” he exclaimed. “Seemed as if he was glad to hear of it. There's been something between him and Bartenstein. 98 THE SWORD-STICK DISAPPEARS 99 I wonder what? I'll tell you what it is, sir this is a queer case." “A very queer case," agreed Lauderdale. “There's more much more-in it than meets the eye,” continued the Inspector sagely. “There are wheels within wheels, Lieutenant, in this. And upon my word, I don't exactly know what to do—I mean about yourself . Just take a turn along Bedford Row with me, sir, for a minute- we'll tell those other two they can have a peep at Grandfather Punctuality by looking in at the window." Bedford Row, save for a few children playing on the pavement, was now deserted, and they walked along for a time in silence—the Inspector evidently deep in thought and a good deal puzzled. “A very strange case !” he said. “And about yourself, sir, as I said, I'm a good deal puzzled. Speaking as a man, I'll tell you straight out that, from what I've already seen and heard, I believe you innocent, and that Bartenstein met his death after you left him.” “Thank you," said Lauderdale. “But speaking as an officer-why, I'm afraid I ought to arrest you,” continued the Inspector. “There's prima facie evidence against you. Will you take my advice, Lieutenant ?" “Yes—if it seems good to me,” answered Lauderdale. “Then I should go through with it,” said Inspector Dwayne. “If you're conscious of your 100 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE own innocence you won't mind the fullest inquiry.” “On the contrary, I should welcome it,” said Lauderdale. “You must see that a number of people will say that you killed the man in a sudden passion,” said the Inspector. "In a measure you were rivals- "I shouldn't stab a man behind his back !" said Lauderdale. “This man was stabbed from behind, according to the accounts." "So anybody would say that knew you, sir," answered the Inspector drily. “But the law does not know anybody. It only knows what's put before it. And when there's a woman in the case between two men- “Let us leave that out, Inspector, said Lauderdale. “Very good, sir, but I'm afraid it won't be in either your power or mine to leave it out,' answered 'Inspector Dwayne. “There are lot of things one would personally like to leave out which will force themselves in." “Well,” said Lauderdale a little impatiently. “What's to be done ?" “We'll drive back to the Yard and see the Chief,” said the Inspector. "It'll be better for you, Lieutenant, to go through with it, indeed, I see no other way for it. And in the meantime I'll be at work in some other direction, and to start with I'll put Mitchell on to this old chap here. He'll have to be a double extra speci- 9 a THE SWORD-STICK DISAPPEARS 103 a ever exchanged more than a few sentences together. “Yesterday evening, when I had gone to Sussex Square to dine with Sir Nicholas Oxenham, whose family I have known most intimately from childhood, I I received communication from Miss Oxenham, to whom I had the previous evening become engaged to be married, which I have received her permission to refer to here in plain words. It was to the effect that at noon that day Mr. Bartenstein called upon her, informed her that her father was in serious financial danger from which obody but he, Mr. Bartenstein, could save him, and offered to do so on condition that she, Miss Oxenham, married him. He gave her twenty- four hours to consider her answer. “Acting on my advice, Miss Oxenham wrote a peremptory refusal, which she handed to me. On leaving Sir Nicholas' house I decided to deliver the note myself. I called at Mr. Barten- stein's house in Princes Gate just as he returned from the House of Commons. He took me up to his study, where I delivered the note. He read it and made no comment. I said that I trusted Miss Oxenham's wishes would be respected by him. He merely replied by a bow, took me downstairs, let me out himself, and we parted without further speech. I walked up Princes Gate, found a motor-cab, and drove home. “I have been shown the sword-stick with which it is believed the crime was committed. 104 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE I recognize it as my own property. It has been in my family for over a century. It was stolen from me, or I lost it, in Hyde Park, about three weeks ago, and I offered a substantial reward for its recovery, but failed to get news of it. I never saw it from the time I lost it until Inspector Dwayne showed it to me this evening at Scotland Yard. “This is all I know of the matter, and is the strict truth so far as I am concerned.' Needless to say, public opinion was divided on this statement of Lauderdale's, even amongst those who, being in court, heard Inspector Dwayne read it, and had the opportunity of watching the accused while it was read. Ninety- nine per cent of the interested and curious believed Lauderdale innocent because of his frank outspokenness, his ingenuous manner, his impatience of form and ceremony, his truly British desire to get at the truth and to con- tribute his quota to it. But one per cent saw nothing in all this but an attempt at a gigantic piece of bluff on the young man's part, and did not scruple to say so. “He's the cheek of the old ’un himself, that young sprig of yours, Dwayne !” remarked a confrère of the Inspector, as they lunched to- gether that day. “Hang me if ever I knew a more cheeky trick than his walking in upon you with that cut-and-dried narrative. Coming the candid, eh? I should think so ! I should think so ! Why, the case is as plain as a pikestaff !" 106 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE my boy, if you're going in for the mystery business. A plain road's more to my liking.” Inspector Dwayne was very well aware that he had his work cut out ; he was already firmly convinced of Lauderdale's complete innocence. Everything that he knew was in Lauderdale's favour. The chauffeur who had driven him from Knightsbridge to Jermyn Street had turned up that morning and testified that his fare was in quite a normal condition when he had hailed him, and that he showed no trace of excitement or discomposure. Lauderdale's valet, who had awaited his return, had also told Inspector Dwayne that his master's manner had been just as usual that midnight-he had eaten a sand- wich or two, drunk a single whisky-and-soda, and “No, he didn't do it !" mused the Inspector, as he sat in his office that afternoon, Lauderdale being safely immured in Brixton on remand, and the sea of events for the moment being smooth. “I'll stake all my professional existence on that. There's some confounded mystery about the whole thing, and ten to one the secret lies where we can never get it now-with Bartenstein him- self. Now, I wonder if there was anything in Bartenstein's early history? I know he went out to South Africa, struck oil in diamonds, and made his pile, but what else was there, and how can I find out ? And then there's that stick, and Grandfather Punctuality-oh, it's a mystery, sure enough !" gone to bed. THE SWORD-STICK DISA P P E ARS 107 Pondering over the problem thus presented, Inspector Dwayne half-unconsciously approached the cupboard in which he fondly believed the fatal weapon to be lodged. He laid his hand on the latch. And then a sharp exclamation escaped him, for the door had been forced open and the sword-stick had disappeared ! BOOK THE THIRD The Veiled Woman of Primrose Hill CHAPTER I A MYSTERIOUS APPOINTMENT In the course of his lengthy experience Inspector Dwayne had often been surprised, and it was one of his favourite axioms that it is only a fool who says that he is never surprised at anything. Inspector Dwayne was never surprised at being surprised ; life, according to his philosophy, was so complex, intricate, and marvellous, that it was a great wonder in his opinion that more sur- prising things did not happen. But on this occasion he was rather more surprised than he desired to be, and the surprise was by no means an agreeable one. What hand had done this? The cupboard was a strong one and fitted with a patent lock. A superficial examination showed the Inspector that it had been forced open by a single mani- pulation of a powerful jemmy, wrought, doubt- less, of the finest steel. But how had the thief contrived to get into his room unobserved ? Then he remembered that, on going to Bow Street, he had left the door unlocked, after his usual fashion, having forgotten that the room contained something of more value than usual. III II2 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE He cursed himself for his folly at that recollection and sat down to think. With the exception of some of his own col- leagues, there were only three persons in the world, he said to himself, who knew where he had placed that sword-stick. Those three were Lauderdale, Hasleton, and the Spaniard, Señor Olivares. It was quite impossible that Lauder- dale could have got at it or have given any in- formation about it, and he could scarcely believe that Hasleton, from what he had seen of him, would wish to repossess himself of it in that fashion. But what of the Spaniard ? He had obviously been so desirious of securing it that he had asked for it. Could it be possible that he had contrived, during his, Inspector Dwayne's, absence at Bow Street, to enter the room and abstract the object about which there was so much mystery ? Inspector Dwayne left his desk and went off to make a cautious inquiry or two. The wing in which his labours were carried on was a quiet one ; at its entrance was a custodian who was supposed to remember everything about every- body who went in and out. Him the Inspector approached. *I've lost something out of my room, Wallis," he said. “You haven't seen any strangers about this morning, have you ?" “There's been very few people about at all this morning, Inspector," answered the man. "I've seen everybody that's come and gone." A MYSTERIOUS APPOINTMENT 113 >> “You haven't seen anybody carrying anything out ?” asked the Inspector. Wallis shook his head. “The only person I've seen that carried any- thing,” he answered, "was a young fellow that looked like a clerk, who asked for Inspector Mallet—said he'd got some plans for him- he had them in one of those long japanned tin cases. He went out again about ten minutes after." “Carrying the jappaned tin case ?” said Inspector Dwayne. “Yes, sir,” replied Wallis. replied Wallis. “Like one of those things that architects carry plans in, you know." "I know," said the Inspector. "All right, Wallis. And I'll lay all the world to a duck's egg he carried off my stick in it !” he muttered to himself bitterly, as he made his way back to Mallet's office, which was next to his own and situated round a corner of the corridor. “This is a plant, and that confounded Spaniard's at the back of it. Mallet,” he continued, open- ing the door of his colleague's room and finding that gentleman alone, “have you had a visitor here this morning to show you some plans ?” "Plans ?” repeated Mallet, obviously sur- prised. “What plans ?” “You haven't had a young man, looking like a clerk, and carrying one of those long, cylindrical, japanned tin cases that architects use for plans ?” asked the Inspector. H 114 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE Mr. Mallet shook his head wonderingly. “I've never seen any young man with a japanned tin case, he said. *What do you mean?" "Oh, never mind—it's all right,” said In- spector Dwayne, feeling miserably conscious that it was all wrong. “I'll tell you later.” He went into his own office and sat down again, once more trying to account to himself for his loss. What did all this mystery about the sword-stick mean? Why was somebody or other taking all this trouble to possess himself, or themselves, of it ? it? He could scarcely bring himself to believe that Señor Olivares really wished to obtain it for the mere sake of associa- tion, and he determined to find out a little more about that gentleman, whose address in the City was engraved on his card. For it seemed possible to Inspector Dwayne, on reconsidering these things, that the Spaniard might have come spying out the land, and bringing with him a ready-made and romantic story, all for the pur- pose of finding out where the sword-stick was, and how best to lay hands upon it. But why- why? What particular virtue was there about the thing ? He was struggling with these complexities when word was brought to him that Miss Millicent Oxenham wished to see him on im- portant business. Inspector Dwayne, who had already met Miss Oxenham at Bow Street, where she had been permitted to see Lieutenant A MYSTERIOUS APPOINTMENT 115 Lauderdale, expressed his willingness to see her at once, and went to the door to meet her, secretly wondering what she had to tell him. When he had seen her that morning she had known nothing beyond the superficial facts of the case, and had been in a state of great concern about her lover's safety. Inspector Dwayne, who had endeavoured to reassure her, wondered now if she had brought him any news. Miss Oxenham was not alone. There came into the Inspector's room with her a very youth- ful gentleman, attired in the very height of fashion, who wore a single eye-glass, out of which he appeared to gaze upon the world with an eye of child-like wonder. He might have been two- and-twenty, but appeared almost infantile, thanks to his small stature, his pink-and-white com- plexion, his light-coloured hair, and general aspect of juvenility. But Inspector Dwayne, who had an eye for faces, observed that although the little gentleman was a fop of the first water, and looked as if he was usually kept in a band-box or a glass case, he had a remarkably knowing air and a sharpness of eye which indicated that he was a long way off from being as innocent as the rest of him looked. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dwayne," said Miss Oxenham. "I have come to see you because, since we met this morning, I have had a re- markable communication, presumably about this case, which I think you ought to know of. This is my cousin, Mr. Ronald Tyndale, who, as 116 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE soon as he heard of this dreadful trouble, came to town to see if he could be of use to us." “How de do ?” said Mr. Tyndale affably, and inspecting the detective with great curiosity and interest. "Fine weather—what? Yes, I came to see if I could be of use, as my cousin says. Never know what you may be able to do, you know, eh ?” “Quite so, sir,” replied Inspector Dwayne. “A little help is always useful. And what is it you have to tell me, Miss Oxenham ?” he continued, turning to Millicent. "Anything important ?" “It may be, and it may not, Mr. Dwayne," she answered, drawing a paper from her pocket. “It is simply this. I was wearing a very plain coat and skirt this morning- “A dark-blue serge with no trimmings,” in- terrupted the Inspector. "I observed it, miss, and considered it very neat.' “Well,” said Millicent, with a smile, “when I changed it on reaching home, I found this paper in one of the coat pockets . It must have been placed there while I was in the court, or when I was coming out--there was rather a crush, you will remember.” “Yes, that would be an easy thing to do, miss, remarked the Inspector. “And it's some mes- sage, I suppose.” Millicent laid the paper, open, before him. The Inspector read aloud the few words written upon it. A MYSTERIOUS APPOINTMENT 117 If you wish to know something which will prove of great advantage to Mr. Lauderdale, and, therefore, to yourself , be at the sun-dial on Primrose Hill at precisely eight o'clock this evening. You will there meet a woman, heavily veiled, who will enter into conversation with you. There is nothing whatever for you to fear. Inspector Dwayne read this over again—the second time to himself. He glanced at Miss Oxenham. “Well, miss ?” he said. “Shall I go there, Mr. Dwayne ?" she asked. “I don't know why you shouldn't," he answered. “There is no very great privacy about the top of Primrose Hill on a summer evening at eight o'clock-plenty of people about." "Supposing," said Mr. Tyndale, with great sapience, “supposing the mysterious lady wished to take my cousin off somewhere?” “Then your cousin wouldn't consent to go, sir," replied the Inspector, smiling. “But i'i provide against anything of that sort. Of course, you know, Miss Oxenham," he con- tinued, turning to Millicent, “this note may be all bunkum-don't build too high hopes on it. It may be written by a lunatic." "A most unpleasant person to meet, Mr. Dwayne !” said Millicent. “I shouldn't like that. “Ay, but again it may not," said the In- spector, “and you may hear something to the 118 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE Lieutenant's advantage. There's always some- body who knows something about these affairs, and if you can learn a little, all the better.” “Then I will certainly go,” said Millicent determinedly. “Just wait a moment, then, and excuse me," said Inspector Dwayne. He left the room, but returned presently with a young man and a young woman, who, having favoured Miss Oxenham with keen and com- prehensive glances, which seemed to take her all in and to put her away somewhere for future reference, made a formal bow and retired. Inspector Dwayne resumed his seat. “Now, when you reach Primrose Hill this evening, Miss Oxenham," he said, "those two young people will be there before you in the character of lovers, who, by the by, are very fond of that part-I used to go courting there myself a long time ago. Of course, you'll take no notice of them, and they won't seem to have the least interest in you, but they'll never lose sight of you while you're with the veiled lady. So you will be quite safe. And later on in the evening, say at ten o'clock, when you will be sure to have returned, I will call at Sussex Square and hear what you have to tell. I hope it may be something worth hearing." He then attended Miss Oxenham and her cousin to the door, and in bidding them farewell gave her a final piece of advice. “Now just remember this, Miss Oxenham," he A MYSTERIOUS APPOINTMENT 119 ; said. "Say as little as you can yourself, and bear in mind all that's told you. It may be much- it may be little. We shall see.' When they had gone, Inspector Dwayne sought and found the highly glazed and beauti- fully engraved card of Señor Olivares, and going out he found a taxi-cab and betook himelf to the City and to the address which the card bore. It was in the neighbourhood of the Tower that he found the desired building- one evidently shared by several firms ; and there, sure enough, on the board within the principal entrance, was the name of Olivares, Wine- Merchant, Oporto and London. “That's right, so far," thought Inspector Dwayne. He climbed two flights of stairs and found the office he wanted ; it was not an ex- tensive place, and the room into which he stepped contained but one middle-aged clerk, to whom he explained his desire to see Señor Olivares. The clerk disappeared and reappeared, motioning the Inspector to enter an inner office. Inspector Dwayne obeyed—to find himself con- fronted by an elderly gentleman whom he had certainly never seen before in his life. CHAPTER II FURTHER SURPRISES ALTHOUGH Inspector Dwayne, from the very nature of his calling, was always prepared for contingencies, improbabilities, and other dis- concerting affairs, and was accustomed to take them with an absolute sang-froid, he was on this occasion so much surprised, that for a moment he stood staring at the wine-merchant without being able to command a word. On his part, the wine-merchant, who held the Inspector's card in his hand, gazed at it, and then at its presenter, evidently wondering what had gained him the honour of a visit from the police. “Señor Olivares, I believe ?” said the In- spector at last. "I am Mr. Olivares,” answered the old man politely. “Well, sir, Ithe fact is, Mr. Olivares, I am in a bit of a fog,” said Inspector Dwayne. “I did not expect to see you, sir.” Mr. Olivares looked an inquiry, and motioned the Inspector to a chair. The caller sat down and mopped his forehead. I 20 FURTHER SURPRISES I21 “May I ask, sir, if you have a partner- brother, son, relation ?" said the Inspector. “Another Mr. Olivares ?” "No," replied the wine-merchant. “I have no partners. “Then, sir, I have been imposed upon,” said Inspector Dwayne. "A gentleman called on me at the Yard yesterday and presented this card. Is that card one of yours, sir ?" Mr. Olivares inspected the card with interest and manifest surprise. “That,” he said, opening a drawer and pro- ducing some cards, "is certainly a card of mine. You may compare it with these.” The Inspector satisfied himself on this point after a very brief examination. “Then that card has been stolen from you, sir," he said. “The man who gave it to me evidently had some opportunity of stealing it, or you have given it to him in the way of business.” “You had better describe him," said the wine-merchant. Inspector Dwayne gave an elaborate de- scription of the soi-disant Señor Olivares. But the real Simon Pure knew nothing of him, and shook his head. “I have no knowledge of any such man," he remarked. "Nor can I understand how he can have secured my card, which is seldom pre- sented to any but well-known customers of mine with whom I have done business for many years." FURTHER SURPRISES 123 while he made his observations and calculations as to how he could get possession of the stick, and unfortunately you let him see where you kept it.” “But what is the stick wanted for ?” said the the Inspector. Mr. Olivares shrugged his shoulders. “Ah, what ?” he said. “That's the mystery. But that somebody wanted it very particularly for a particular reason is very evident. I'm afraid that I can't help you any further." Inspector Dwayne then took his leave, but on reaching the door turned and asked the wine-merchant if he had any objection to his sking the clerk if he had ever seen anything of the impostor about the building. Mr. Olivares said that he had no objection, and called the clerk, whose name turned out to be Fernandes, into the room. He was a sallow-faced, quiet- mannered person, with sad eyes and a gentle voice, and he answered the detective confidently and readily. No—he knew no one of the description which Inspector Dwayne gave no one. It was very seldom that anyone called there—it was an old business and definite in its routine. It was seldom, too, that he had occasion to give his employer's card to anyone and he could not think of how possession of it could be obtained. There was no further information to be got there, and Inspector Dwayne went away very full of thought. Although his immediate busi- ness, in plain words, was to prove who killed Marcus Bartenstein, he was much more con- I 24 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE cerned with the mystery of the sword-stick. He had no doubt-for there could be no doubt --that the assassin had made use of that weapon, but what was all this mysterious spiriting away of the stick from his custody? What good could its possession do to him who had stolen it? The more he thought of it the more he was mystified, and by the time he got back to his office he was a little out of temper, for he could not hit upon an idea. Mitchell was inquiring for him-Mitchell, whom he had not seen since he deputed him to keep an eye on Grandfather Punctuality the night before. He sat down and asked what Mitchell had to tell him. “Well,” he said, "did you find out where the old man lived ?" Mitchell shook his head ruefully. "No," he answered, “I didn't. “A bit uncommon for you,” remarked In- spector Dwayne. “I'd a nice time of it," said Mitchell. “He and that other man, Marks, kept it up late. I kept taking a look at them- “That," interrupted the Inspector, “is why they kept it up late. They knew you were watching them." "No," said Mitchell earnestly, “I'm sure they didn't-I was never more careful in my “Well, I suppose they didn't stay all night there ?" said the Inspector. “He came out at ten o'clock," answered life.” FURTHER SURPRISES 125 Mitchell. "He never saw me I'd found a good place in that passage. He went into Holborn and turned towards the City. I was never more than twenty yards behind him, but I lost him.” “Where?” asked the Inspector. “Well, he turned down Fetter Lane, and slipped into some of those small courts behind Fleet Street,” replied Mitchell. "How he dis- appeared I don't know, but he did it in a flash. Psh, man !” exclaimed Inspector Dwayne. “He's evidently got a lodging in some of those old houses. However, I want him, or may want, him, and as I understood from Abrahams that he makes a practice of passing his evening at Marks's shop you must be on to him again. “All right," said Mitchell. He lingered a little, as if he had more to say. “Wouldn't it be better” he began. “Wouldn't what be better ?” asked the In- spector. you want him at the inquest or the adjournment, to subpoena him, and let me serve him at Marks's, or wherever I can find him," answered Mitchell. "If he goes about with his curios I'm certain to come across him." Inspector Dwayne considered this proposal. He also remembered Grandfather Punctuality's conduct towards Lauderdale. "I want to know where the old man lives, and what his private life is,” he said. “However, we'll think of that tonight, Mitchell. The in- “Why, if 126 CASE THE BARTENSTEIN quest won't be opened until tomorrow afternoon, and the adjournment at Bow Street was for a week, you know. Try to run this old fox to earth tonight-a hundred to one you'll find him burrowing in some of those Fleet Street courts ; lots of 'em like him do—they can't keep away from the smell of paper and printer's ink-and rum. It draws them." Then Mitchell went away, and once more the Inspector strove to think of some explanation of the things which troubled him. Better men than himself, he said, would not have bothered themselves half so much—they would have accepted the hypothesis of Lauderdale's guilt and have gone on to collect all the evidence they could against him. But Inspector Dwayne was a very obstinate man, and he had made up his mind that the young soldier was not guilty, and that he, Samuel Dwayne, was going to find out who was. “It's a queer, queer case !” he muttered for the hundredth time. "And it's going to be queerer. ” As fortune would have it, the case became queerer within the next few minutes. While he sat there, moody and speculative, the cus- todian of that part of the building entered, con- ducting a young man in the dress of a chauffeur, who expressed a wish to have a word with Inspector Dwayne. “It's about that affair at Princes Gate, sir, he said when they were left alone. “The Bartenstein case, sir. FURTHER SURPRISES 127 "What do you know about it?" demanded the Inspector, wondering what he was going to hear next. “Anything really important ?" “I believe I do, sir, and I should have come to you sooner, but I had to leave town very early yesterday morning, and I never heard of this affair until late last night, at Salisbury,” said the chauffeur. "I've only just returned from there, so I came to you at once. “Well ?” said Inspector Dwayne, who had been narrowly inspecting the young man and had set him down for an honest fellow. “Go on. “Well, sir, night before last, at midnight, I was in Princes Gate, waiting for a gentleman whom I had driven there, and who kept me, replied the chauffeur. "I was about three doors from Mr. Bartenstein's. I know Mr. Barten- stein very well, because I've driven him many a time into the City and down to the House too. I saw a young gentleman arrive; then Mr. Bartenstein came up in his motor-brougham, which went round to the stables. The young gentleman and Mr. Bartenstein went within and the door was closed. About six minutes later they appeared at the door again, and the young gentleman walked away towards Knightsbridge. Mr. Bartenstein stood a minute or two at the door looking up at the sky, then he went within again. And. “Yes, yes ?” said the Inspector, seeing the chauffeur pause. “Go on!" . 0 128 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE “I'm sure, sir, from the description in the papers, that the young gentleman I saw was the one who has been charged,” said the young man. “If so, it's lucky for him that you were there !" exclaimed Inspector Dwayne. “Now you're sure Bartenstein closed the door ?” “I heard him bolt it, sir-heavily,” answered the chauffeur. “How long did you stay there after that ?" asked the Inspector. “Half an hour, sir, exactly." "I suppose your fare could corroborate that ?” "Oh yes, sir. It's Sir Ilbert Witherington- he often employs me.” “Then give me your name and address, and a reference or two, and don't say a word of this till you hear from me,” said Inspector Dwayne. When the chauffeur was gone the Inspector uttered an exclamation. “Ha !” he said. “Whoever did it was hidden behind that curtain, and got in and got out by that private stair." CHAPTER III ON PRIMROSE HILL IF Mr. Samuel Dwayne, clever and astute as he was in a great many respects, found the affair in which he discovered himself to be involved rather more than a puzzle, no one can wonder that Miss Millicent Oxenham, who, in the whole course of her existence, had never been faced by any problems at all, found herself in a whirl of wondrous perplexities. Everything had come upon her with a rush. She had been rudely awakened out of a dream of girlish bliss to receive a succession of shocks. There was the an- nouncement made by Marcus Bartenstein there was the scene with her father ; there was the news of the next morning. Millicent was the sort of girl who cherishes no malice and is ready to forgive on due repentance being made manifest, but she could scarcely repress a feeling of something desperately like relief and satis- faction when she heard of Bartenstein's death. Although she was naturally courageous she had been afraid of him, for she had instinctively guessed the cruelty of his nature and the implac- 129 I 130 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE able fashion in which he pursued anything he desired. It was impossible not to feel that some- thing wicked had been removed from her way, and she made no attempt to deceive herself as to her gladness that she would never again see the man who had regarded her as something to be bargained for. But uppermost in Millicent's mind was the danger in which her lover now found himself. It was impossible to deny that things looked black against him. She had sufficient know- ledge of the world to know that twelve imagi- native, stolid-natured jurors, accustomed to buy and sell without other than practical thoughts, would simply say : “Oh, this case is as plain as a pikestaff! The young fellow lost his head when he found Bartenstein wanted his sweetheart and meant to have her ; they had a row, and he ran him through before he realized what he was doing !” She had already heard hints that this was the popular theory, and she did not wonder at it; it seemed, or would seem to those who did not know Lauderdale, so very probable. Then there had been the anxiety about her father--the sickening apprehension as to what was about to happen. That anxiety as the hours had gone on had changed to wonder that nothing did happen. It was now two days since the crash was to come, and so far the crash had not come. What was more, Sir Nicholas Oxenham was now sure that there was not only not going to be any crash, but that he was safe. And this circum- ; ON PRIMROSE HILL 131 stance had already begun to arouse some curious suspicions in his mind and in his daughter's. It was Sir Nicholas who had brought the news of Bartenstein's murder to Millicent, at an early hour of the day which succeeded the delivery of the dead man's intimation to her. There was little known then, and it was not until the after- noon newspapers came out that they connected Lauderdale with it in any way. Then the description of the young man who had called so late at night convinced Millicent that her lover was the person for whom the police were now looking, and she had immediately sent messages in several directions to him, forgetting that he was out of town for the day. It was not until he telephoned to her late in the afternoon and reassured her, that she remembered her father's affairs, and went to him to make inquiry about them. But nothing had happened-nothing. Sir Nicholas was obviously bewildered about the matter. He could give no explanation of things which his daughter could understand. He had expected something very dreadful-a catas- trophe-to take place at noon. There had been no catastrophe. And on the following day, when Millicent returned from Bow Street, after hearing Lauderdale's case adjourned, she found him jubilant. Events had occurred which had brought everything round—the danger was over. Millicent was filled with a doubt. 132 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE “Father," she said, “I want to ask you a plain question. Do you think Mr. Bartenstein's death had anything to do with this ?" "Indirectly it may have had, my dear," answered Sir Nicholas. “He was a great operator, and his death, of course, affected many things." Millicent considered matters. "I think," she said presently, “I think this is the time to tell you something which, after all , I was only keeping back until I knew the truth about your affairs, and she told him everything that had passed between Bartenstein and herself. And as she proceeded Sir Nicholas' face grew graver and graver and he began to look more grim and reflective than was his wont. "It is terrible to think, Millie,” he said at last, "yes, worse than terrible, that a man whom one has trusted and made a friend of could behave like this, and it has aroused a train of thought in me. Can it be that Bartenstein can have been behind the operation that would have ruined me? If a certain deal had taken place at noon the day before yesterday I should have been ruined. And—it never did take place. If I thought that he had devised a cunningly laid trap in order to get you into his power- " 'I am afraid that was so, Father,” she said. “However, it is over, and you are safe. The great thing to think of now is Jack's safety." Sir Nicholas lifted his hands. “Oh, dear me, dear me !” he exclaimed. ON PRIMROSE 133 HILL “What a mystery! And from all I read, and all you tell me, there is no clue but that. Something must be done-Bartenstein's affairs must be gone into. He must have had secret enemies. Do you think the police are doing all they can, my dear?" Millicent refrained at that moment from telling her father of her own errand that evening. She made a plausible excuse for absenting herself from the house, and left it full of speculation as to what she might be about to hear, and what, if any, adventure would befall her. She had no sense of fear, for she did not intend to go beyond reach of help, and she knew that Inspector Dwayne's assistants would be at hand. But her curiosity as to what the evening might bring made her heart beat quicker than usual when, leaving a hansom at the entrance gate on the Albert Road, she turned into the avenue of trees which leads up to the slight eminence from which enthusiastic Londoners get, on clear mornings and evenings, a somewhat extensive view of the metropolis. If Miss Oxenham had only known it, she was not only under the observation of Inspector Dwayne's emissaries, but of someone whom she would not have suspected of being in her im- mediate vicinity, but who had kept an eye on her from the time she left Sussex Square until she arrived at Primrose Hill. In fact, if she had been told that her cousin, Mr. Ronald Tyndale, had charged himself with the duty of looking after her 134 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE safety, she would have been more surprised than if she had suddenly heard that that young gentleman had just been made Archbishop of Canterbury. Yet, when she got out of her hansom at the entrance to Primrose Hill, Mr. Tyndale, who had passed her in a taxi-cab some- where about St. John's Wood Church, was already lying in wait for her, and had the impudence to pass her by, full face, and to chuckle afterwards on finding that she did not show the slightest recognition of him. The truth was that Mr. Tyndale—who had been born with several silver spoons in his mouth, had nothing to do but amuse and dress himself, and had torn himself away from his house-boat near Henley that morning in order, as he had ex- plained to Inspector Dwayne, to see what he could do for his cousin had conceived the brilliant idea of having a little fun out of all this mystery, and at the same time of practising a bit of detective business on his own behalf. He happened to be an exceedingly good amateur actor, and possessed a choice collection of cos- tumes at his flat in Mayfair, and thither he re- paired when he left his cousin ; and after due thought and much anxious consultation with his man, he made himself up as an old gentleman, and flattered himself when he had finished his toilette, that not even Mr. Cyril Maude could have done better, in which opinion the valet- and not without reasonable excuse-heartily agreed. ON PRIMROSE HILL 135 In fact, Mr. Tyndale, artistically finished off as to wrinkles, whiskers, and wig, and carefully arrayed in a broad-brimmed hat, dark spectacles, an old-fashioned cut-away coat, fancy waist- coat, high collar, black, voluminous stock, and pearl-grey trousers, and terminated by com- fortable boots and gaiters, looked very well in the part of a respectable though diminutive buffer who would be likely to take the cool of the evening by sitting on a Park chair, resting his hands and his chin on the head of his stick, and taking a benevolent interest in the children and lovers around him. That, at any rate, was what Miss Oxenham took him to be as she passed him on her way up the hill. She was certainly preoccupied and not a little agitated, and therefore paid no very particular attention to anything but the business in hand, yet she gave Mr. Tyndale one direct glance, and he felt mightily pleased for more than one reason when he saw that his disguise was good. He let her go on with her free, elastic step, and soon afterwards followed her, walking as an old man does, slowly and haltingly, with one hand on his back. Mr. Tyndale had no fear for Milli- cent's safety, once she came within view of Dwayne's people. He himself was more con- cerned with an idea which had been shaping itself in his mind during the evening. Primrose Hill, as most Londoners know, is a sort of tumulus-shaped eminence which rises on the north side of Regent's Park. It is of no 136 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE great height and would not be glorified by the name of hill anywhere else, but it is so placed in the geographical scheme of things, that from its crown one may obtain a wide-spreading view of London, extending for a long distance from east to west, and including a great many prominent landmarks, such as St. Paul's Cathedral and the great towers of the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. There are also numerous subsidiary heights and towers and spires to be picked out of these vistas, and folk who love panoramic effect (like the late Robert Browning, who used to climb the hill very often in order to view the prospect) are fond of visiting this eminence of a fine morning or cool evening, to point out delightedly to whomsoever accompanies them, that yonder is such-and-such a church, and that surely must be the roof of this-or-the-other station. It is a peaceful delight and hurts nobody, and there is a sun-dial on the little asphalted space at the top which assures you which is north and south and east and west. About this asphalted space there are seats where lovers and many children sit ; and here Miss Oxenham, arriving in due course, very quickly perceived Inspector Dwayne's lady and gentleman, who, seated a little to the left of the sundial, played well up to their supposed characters and appeared to be deeply engaged in conversation. Millicent, showing no sign of knowledge of these two or of anybody else, walked slowly ON PRIMROSE HILL 137 towards the sun-dial. There were several people and many children about, but at first she saw nothing of the person she had come to meet. Striving to appear not to be looking for anybody, she glanced about her, and suddenly she saw, seated on a chair by the belt of trees on the north side of the cleared space, a woman in black, and so heavily veiled that nothing of her features could be seen. She looked like some shape of gloom that threatened the calm quiet of the summer evening Millicent, feeling that she must face whatever was to come, crossed over and sat down close to the dark figure. For a moment or two the woman remained silent and motionless, then she said, without turning her head : “I'll drop my bag, miss, and you can pick it up, and that'll bring us into conversation natural-like, and then we shan't be noticed.” ور CHAPTER IV THE ARTIFICIAL EYE ; MILLICENT went through this part of the per- formance with due gravity, and in handing back the bag, took a steady look at the woman beside her. But she could see nothing—her companion was so well veiled that nothing of her features was visible ; all that could be definitely said was that there was a countenance behind that veiling. As for her figure, it appeared to be that of a middle-aged woman; as for other observable things, Millicent concluded the unknown, from her dress and her voice, to be of the better sort of domestic class. “You asked me to come here,” she said quietly. “Yes, miss, and frightened I am about it,” answered the woman. “I shall be glad to say what I have to say and get away. ' “Why are you frightened ?" asked Millicent. "I wonder who wouldn't be, miss !” said the “There's been enough to destroy any- one's nerves." “Do you mean as regards Mr. Bart" woman. 138 THE ARTIFICIAL EYE 139 go. The woman uttered a warning sound. “Hush, miss, if you please !" she said. “While we're here don't mention no names we can make ourselves understood without that." "Be as little mysterious as you can,” said Millicent. “You say you will be glad to leave here—then tell me what you have to say as concisely as possible, so that we may both The veiled woman sighed. “Why, miss,” she said, “I'm no great scholar, and perhaps I can't put things as plain as you could, nor as short. And I want to say, miss, straight out, that what I'm here for is to try and save your young gentleman, because many a long year ago his mother saved me. Don't ask me for any names, miss-neither him nor you would know mine, and it isn't necessary—but I've a great debt of gratitude to pay to his family, and now perhaps I can pay it. Because I know, miss, that no child of the lady I'm speak- ing of could be evil enough to murder anybody ; and more than that, I know there was somebody in the dead man's study a good hour after your young gentleman had gone away, if he went when the papers say he did.” Millicent felt a great leaping of the heart. What was she going to hear ? “Please tell me what you know !” she said. "Well, miss," said the woman, “I'll tell you what I know, but it's on one condition. I shan't tell my name, nor where I live, and you mustn't 140 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE If you ask me to tell how I know what I do know. You're at liberty to tell the police or anybody else what I tell you, but I shall tell no more. ask me how I know the truth of what I'm going to tell, I shan't, because I can't answer—my tongue's tied on that particular. But I assure you of the truth, and if the police have anything about them, they can work the rest out for them- selves.” Millicent considered this somewhat strange and unsatisfactory statement. “But unless you can prove in the proper way the truth of what you tell me,” she said, “how will it benefit Mr- “Hush, miss—no names ! I'm frightened of the very trees,” said the woman. I can't and won't tell more! I believe that what I can tell you will put the police on the right track—that must be sufficient." Millicent sighed. “It might mean the loss of his—life !” she said. “Just think of that, if you, as you say, owe something to his mother." "I can't do more, answered the woman stubbornly. “I can give a clue, and the police must follow it up." “Very well—let me hear,” said Millicent. "Well, miss, then you'll understand that what I tell you is not from gossip or hearsay, but from first hand,” said the woman. “When I say such a thing is, you'll understand that it is so of my own knowledge. Well, miss, in the dead man's THE ARTIFICIAL EYE 141 house, whether you know it or no, there's a suite of three rooms that he used as a sort of office, for he did business there as well as in the City. There's a waiting-room, a secretary's room, and his study. In that study there's a staircase that leads to the garden below-it's built in a turret." “All that,” said Millicent a little impatiently, "was described in the papers. “Quite so, miss,” agreed the woman. “Now, the door at the foot of that turret opens into a rose porch, and from that there's a sort of verandah covered with roses runs round the garden to a private entrance near the gardener's house. I think you'll understand me, miss, continued the woman, with meaning, “when I say, without going into further details, that there are one or two places from which, if anyone happens to be looking into the garden, any person leaving the turret by the verandah would be seen.” “I see-I see !” exclaimed Millicent. “On the night that the affair happened, some- body-never mind names, miss—did happen to be looking,” continued the woman. "That somebody saw a figure leave the turret door, go along the verandah, and pass out at the private entrance. But it was too dark to tell for certain whether it was the figure of a man or a woman. “Or to recognize a face ?" asked Millicent. “Or to recognize a face, miss,” answered her 142 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE > companion. “Now, that was at exactly ten minutes past one o'clock-an hour after your young gentleman had gone. Millicent, in spite of her caution, turned to the woman appealingly. “Oh,” she said, “I'm sure it was you who saw all this! Why can't you speak? If it's a question of money “Hush, miss—it's no question of money !” replied the woman, almost defiantly. "I can't, won't, shan't, say more—not if wild horses were set to drag it out of me. The police may do the rest. And I have a clue for them.” “A clue !” exclaimed Millicent. “A sufficient one ?" thing." “I've no doubt that less has sufficed, miss, answered the woman. “Listen—the somebody I've spoken of had occasion to go into that garden early in the morning—to tell the truth, it was to get some roses for a sick woman's fancy, miss—and the somebody found—some- “Found-what?" asked Millicent, wondering what she was to hear or see. The veiled woman glanced about her sus- piciously. Nobody appeared to be taking any notice either of her or of Miss Oxenham. In- spector Dwayne's commissioners were in deeper and apparently more lover-like conference than ever ; a park-keeper was pointing out various features of the landscape to an old gentleman THE ARTIFICIAL E Y E 143 whom Millicent, although she had looked a good deal at him, had not recognized as the enterprising Mr. Tyndale ; the numerous children were running about amongst the benches. With a hasty movement she opened her handbag and took something out of it which she placed on her lap, keeping the handbag in front of it. “This, miss,” she said. Millicent, for all her resolute endeavours to keep full control over herself, could not repress a slight start and an exclamation of horror, when she looked down at the object lying on a piece of tissue paper on the woman's lap. It seemed to her that she was gazing at a human eye ! “Hush, miss, hush !” said the woman. “It's not real—it's artificial. Listen, miss : when the -the somebody saw the figure leave the turret door, that somebody noticed that just after doing so, it suddenly stopped and began to search about the ground. But not for long-it soon passed on and disappeared. Where it had stopped was where the somebody next morn- ing found—this. And if the police find the person-man or woman, for you couldn't tell in the gloom which it was—the person, I say, who dropped this, you'll find the true murderer.” Millicent almost groaned with despair. “Oh !” she said. "How can you think it. possible that the police could track anybody by 144 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE that ? Amongst all these millions ! You must think the police are superhuman.” “Well, miss, my poor father was a detective himself, and he certainly thinks he was,” said the woman drily. “I've heard of criminals being traced by a less clue than this, as I said before. You hand this to the man you know at the Yard—I saw you speaking to him this morning--and tell him what you've heard from me, and I'll warrant you he'll make something out of it-trust me! I know some of their ways. “But it is all so vague, so enigmatic !” said Millicent. “If you would only tell me your name, your address- “I shall tell you neither, miss,” said the woman resolutely. “Once more, I tell you, no ! No—not if you were to offer me a fortune. If it were known in certain quarters that I had been mixed up-at least, not that, but if certain things came out which would come out by my name appearing, I should never know a moment's peace in my life again. In fact, I might as well go and throw myself into the canal down there in the Park at once. Take this thing, miss, and do as I tell you. She deftly slipped the artificial eye, once more wrapped up in tissue paper, into Millicent's hand, at the same time looking carefully around to see that they were not observed. Millicent took it with repugnance. "And supposing that all this is of no good ?” THE ARTIFICIAL E YE 145 she said, as a last entreaty. “Supposing the police cannot trace the person who lost this, if it really was that person, which is mere sup- position on your part-do you mean that, knowing what you could say (for I am sure you are the eye-witness you have spoken of as 'somebody'), that you really will not come forward ?" The woman showed some sign of impatience. “I have told you,” she said, "that I cannot, will not, shall not, say more. Let the police try on what I have told you-keep up some hope till they have tried. You don't know their methods—I do. And”-here she lowered her voice still more—“Dwayne's a sharp fellow, miss, and he's on your side." Then, without another word, she made a jerk of the head, and rising, walked away. And the little old gentleman, who had been lounging about talking to the children, seeing that she went off in the direction of the Albert Road entrance, moved across the hill-side at an angle which would bring him into the path she had chosen lower down the Park. Millicent, following out her instruction, showed no recognition of the two guardians whom Inspector Dwayne had sent for her protection. She sat for a little time and then left the hill. Once she saw the veiled woman look around, and Millicent turned away in the other direction. She had given her informant her promise that she would not attempt to follow her, and she did K CHAPTER V THREADS DRAWN CLOSER HAVING a firm belief in the principle of making sure about everything, Mr. Ronald Tyndale, who overheard his quarry ask for a ticket to South Kensington, did precisely the same thing, and then walked past her on the stairs leading to the platform with all the sang-froid in the world. To make still surer, when the train came in, he deliberately entered the same compartment which she selected, and sat down exactly opposite her. He was so satisfied with the result of this experiment, that when they changed trains at Baker Street, Mr. Tyndale indulged himself by going into a smoking-carriage-selecting a corner, however, from which he could command a view of the next car, in which the veiled woman had taken a seat. Arrived at South Kensington, he permitted her to mount the stairs, and to leave the station a little in advance of him ; what with her tall figure, her sable garments, and above all her thick veils, she was not easily to be missed. So, Mr. Tyndale, puffing contentedly at his 148 THREADS DRAWN CLOSER 149 cigar, and declaring himself that if it ever so happened (for he was a philosopher, and was fond of telling himself and his friends that you never know what's going to turn up) that he lost all his wealth (which was an impossibility, seeing that his wise parent had tied it up some- what strictly) he would most certainly amuse himself by starting a private-detective agency, strolled behind the object of his acquaintance, resolved to follow her wherever she went. The veiled woman first of all visited a fruiterer's shop, where Mr. Tyndale, watching her from across the road (it was now quite dusk, and he knew there was small risk of her detecting him), saw her purchase some fine hot-house grapes. From this place she went to a wine-merchant's establishment, whence she presently emerged with what was obviously a bottle of wine or spirits. This apparently completed her pur- chases for that time, and she set off in the direction of the Park, Mr. Tyndale following her at a safe distance. And after various turns right and left he found himself in Princes Gate. The amateur detective was now deeply in- terested, and informed himself that he was going through with it. Up to now he had chiefly been actuated by a desire to find out who the woman was, and where she lived, just because her letter to Millicent Oxenham had been so cryptic as to provoke the curiosity which was a strong feature in Mr. Ronald Tyndale's character. 150 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE Now that he found himself in the immediate neighbourhood of Bartenstein's murder, it oc- cured to him that although he had no knowledge of what the veiled woman had told his cousin, the mere fact that she had come to Princes Gate showed that she had some connection with the affair which it might be well for him to learn something about. A vague notion shaped itself in his mind that she might be one of the servants who had some secret knowledge of the crime. It was interesting, anyway, thought Mr. Tyndale, and he watched his game carefully. The veiled woman pursued her way until she came to a large house which stood at a corner. Down a side street which seemed to lead to stables and coach-houses, and was but dimly lighted, she turned, and Mr. Tyndale, slipping into a deep shadow, saw her follow a high brick wall until she came to a small house which stood between the end of the wall and a range of stabling. It looked the sort of house that would be built for a coachman or a head gardener, and was of the same style of architecture, and there- fore in keeping with the massive mansion at the corner. Into this house the woman disappeared, letting herself in with a latch-key. Mr. Tyndale, seeing nobody about just then, walked a little way along the side street opposite the high wall and the small house. Then he discovered that the roadway in front of the house was thickly covered with tan, wherefrom his intellect deduced the fact that somebody was ill 154 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE library, and that she had left instructions that Mr. Ronald was to be sent in there as soon as he arrived. Upon the young gentleman's entrance to the place of consultation he found Millicent and Inspector Dwayne seated on either side of a small table on which, reposing on a sheet of note-paper, lay the artificial eye which Miss Oxenham had received earlier in the evening. The Inspector was looking extremely mystified, and Millicent very despairing. Mr. Tyndale cheerily inquired how things were going. Where- upon his cousin, at the detective's suggestion, gave him a brief résumé of her adventures at the appointed rendezvous, compressing into a few sentences all that was pertinent. Mr. Tyndale listened attentively. “Well,” he said, “and I dare say the woman was right. That's what I should call a good clue. All you've got to do is to find somebody who's lost an artificial eye---more green than hazel, I think.” “Be sensible, Ronny !” said his cousin. “Ah, I wish we knew who that woman was !” sighed Inspector Dwayne. “I wish I'd instructed one of my young people to follow her. That woman, miss, knows more than she's told you. Father was a detective, was he? More than her life would be worth if her name came out? Ah, indeed—yes, I've no doubt she knows a lot ---probably trying to draw a red herring across our path. I wish I could come across her.” THREADS DRAWN CLOSER 155 “Don't be doleful, Inspector,” said Mr. Tyn- dale. “You can come across her. The fact is, I have just left her. Yes !” he continued, calmly accepting the looks of wonder turned upon him. "You see, my fair cousin, I was so inquisitive as to who your unknown correspondent might be that I determined to witness your meeting in my own person." “Ronnie, you weren't there !” exclaimed Milli- cent. "I was there, my dear, in the character of a nice old gentleman, and you looked at me several times and didn't know me,” retorted Mr. Tyndale. “And when your mysterious lady left you I stepped into my worshipful aunt's brougham which I had borrowed for the occasion, and with which I had exchanged signals from the top of the hill, changed my old gentleman's attire for these garments, and followed her. And, if I didn't follow her home, I at any rate followed her to where Mr. Dwayne, there, can find her." “And where may that be, sir ?” asked the Inspector eagerly. Mr. Tyndale assumed an air of gravity, lowered his voice, and bent forward. “The coachman's house at the corner of Bartenstein's garden,” he said. Inspector Dwayne uttered a sharp click of his tongue. “Ay, ay !” he said. “The windows of that place do look out upon the garden. I have a 156 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE plan of the whole premises in my desk. Just tell me how you tracked her, and what happened, sir." Mr. Tyndale thereupon narrated his adven- tures of the evening, deducing various morals and conclusions from them. Millicent regarded him with wondering eyes, and felt uncertain whether to laugh or to marvel at his cleverness. But the Inspector nodded approvingly. "You did very well, sir,” he said. “What you've accomplished may be of great use. Now, Miss Oxenham, and you, sir, don't say a word of this to a soul-just wait. The threads are drawing closer—they are drawing closer !” “Quite so, but round whom ?” asked Mr. Tyndale. Inspector Dwayne looked wiser than ever at that question, and, having remarked that this was a very queer world and declined an offer of refreshment, he took his leave and presently departed in a taxi-cab, the artificial eye safely reposing in his waistcoat pocket, and he himself being very thoughtful and preoccupied. He continued his journey in this mood until his vehicle reached Regent Quadrant, where a block in the traffic caused his driver to stop and himself to look out of the window. He was gazing idly at the throngs coming and going from Piccadilly Circus when, as the cab moved on again, he caught sight of two men entering the Café Royal, on seeing whom he immediately THRE A DS DRA WN 157 CLOSER stopped the driver and made a hasty descent in the street. For Inspector Dwayne had recog- nized in those two men the pseudo Señor Olivares and the man who was the genuine Señor Olivares's clerk—Fernandes. A BOOK THE FOURTH The Contents of the Sword-Stick 162 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE such as can only be seen in London and New York. There was every language in Europe, and not a few languages outside it, being chattered. The whole place was as busy and as lively as an ant-heap on a working day. Inspector Dwayne had no desire to move about among this throng. If the man he wanted to see again at close quarters were in that room he would soon find out for himself for, seemingly unobservant, he was observing every group and every individual face. And within a few minutes he knew they were not there. That occasioned him no surprise. They might be supping else- where ; they might be supping in a private room. But the fact remained that he had seen them together, which, to his mind, meant much. And he determined to make another journey on the to the genuine Mr. Olivares and to ask a few more questions about this clerk, Fernandes. Just at that moment Fernandes passed the door opposite which Inspector Dwayne had pur- posely taken his seat. He was alone, and walking as rapidly as he could through the press of people crowding in at the Regent Street entrance. He looked as a man looks who wants to get some- where in a hurry. The Inspector rose and went after him, keeping his eyes open for a sight of the pseudo Olivares. But of him he saw nothing. Fernandes went straight up the street, looking neither to the right nor the left ; and he walked morrow THE SWORD-STICK AGAIN 163 con- so quickly that Inspector Dwayne, who was neither as young nor as athletic as he had been, found some difficulty in keeping him in view. But the pursuit was short and simple, and the purpose of the pursued man apparently devoid of anything sinister. Fernandes simply turned into Beak Street, wound round into Golden Square, and entered a small hotel with a foreign name over its door. And the Inspector, sidering matters, felt that he could do no more that night, and so went home and, being sensible enough to put all professional matters away from him as soon as he crossed his own threshold, ate a hearty supper, smoked a cigar, and went to bed to sleep the sleep of a tired man. But he was at his office bright and early next morning, and more resolved than ever to get at the bottom of some of the mysteries which were troubling him. To begin with, however, two things lay on his desk which, instead of doing anything to solve those mysteries, only served to heighten them. One was a long thin parcel, wrapped up in brown paper, sealed and regis- tered; the other was a somewhat dirty envelope, addressed to him and marked “Private". This the Inspector opened first, and drawing out a sheet of equally doubtful note-paper, read : Mortimer Street, June 11th. Dear Sir, If you would make it convenient to call here 164 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE any time tomorrow, I have something to tell you that may be of service. Yours faithfully, Aaron Abrahams. Inspector Dwayne put this in his pocket and turned his attention to the long thin parcel. A little time before these events some person to whom he had been of service had sent him a gold-mounted silk umbrella ; he had a vague idea that this might be another little souvenir of the same sort. There was a good deal of brown- paper wrapping to be unrolled before the object revealed itself, but before the last folds had been removed Inspector Dwayne knew that this was no umbrella. He tore off the final folds of paper with something of a suspicion in his mind. The sword-stick ! He laid it across the blotting-pad on his desk and stared at it as if it had been a live thing. It was fully two minutes before he picked it up, and then he examined it all over carefully. It was just as he had seen it last, so far as he could see. There was not a scratch on its highly polished surface; the silver head was bright and un- injured, and when he drew out the stiletto-like blade, short, sharp, murderous, the stains which meant Marcus Bartenstein's blood were there as when the stick had last been in his hands. He saw, as he replaced the blade, a scrap of paper which had been curled around it. Picking this up, he saw that a few words had been written 168 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE "Well, sir," continued Mr. Abrahams, "after the stranger had paid me, he still continued to hang about. But after a time he went off, and I made to the door and watched him. He affected to gaze into the neighbouring shops, but I knew he was keeping a watch on mine, so I determined to watch him. I knew old Grand- father wasn't going to buy anything, so I left the boy in charge and, going across the street to a good neighbour of mine, I got into one of his upper rooms and watched through the blinds. The stranger stopped and stopped, hanging about at shop windows, but at last the old man came out and went shuffling away in his usual fashion. Then my gentleman followed him and, of course," concluded Mr. Abrahams, "of course, my dear sir, I could do no more. "No, of course, said Inspector Dwayne mechanically, “of course. Let's see that photo- graph.” The curio dealer unlocked a drawer and, producing an envelope, took from it a neatly printed off photograph which he placed in his visitor's hands. Inspector Dwayne gave one glance at it. The pseudo Señor Olivares ! "You know that person, sir ?” said Mr. Abrahams, smiling and rubbing his hands. “I see you do, my dear sir—you- “Well, I do,” admitted the Inspector, “and I wish I knew where to lay hands on him at this minute," he added, in thought. “Look you here, THE SWORD-STICK AGAIN 169 Mr. Abrahams, you've done me a service in this matter, and I'll see that it's not forgotten. Now, keep all this to yourself, you know, eh ?” Mr. Abrahams lifted his hands and wagged his beard. “Not a word to anybody," said the Inspector. “And, I say, if Grandfather Punctuality comes here again, just get on to the telephone to me at once, will you ? I want to see him particularly, and I haven't been able to find out where he lives yet. Mr. Abrahams answered that the old gentle- man was very close, and having shown his visitor out at the side door, returned to his kippers, chuckling merrily to himself, while Inspector Dwayne drove back to his office, ruminating gloomily over sword-sticks, artificial eyes, and the photograph in his pocket-book. He felt like a man who is given a thousand fragments of a puzzle to piece together. The Inspector had scarcely gained his room when Mr. Ronald Tyndale called to see him. That young gentleman had come to gratify mere inquisitiveness—he wanted to see the sword- stick. Now Inspector Dwayne had carefully con- cealed from everybody the fact that his mys- terious article had been out of his possession, and he accordingly produced it from his cupboard and placed it in Mr. Tyndale's hands as if it were quite an ordinary thing. Mr. Tyndale received it with interest and examined it closely --so closely that the Inspector, who wanted to 170 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE go out again, grew tired. Suddenly Mr. Tyndale looked up “I say,” he said, “don't you think me an ass, because I've got a pretty good idea that I'm not. I'll bet you a thousand to one, Inspector, that this sword-stick contains something that'll go a long way to solving these mysteries !" 172 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE The Inspector nodded a careless consent-he saw, but comprehended nothing. "Well, now,” continued Mr. Tyndale, who seemed to be enjoying himself, “I press these two split pea projections. And A slight metallic click sounded within the interior of the stick. The Inspector started and grew suddenly interested. “Now then,” continued the manipulator, who had turned up the sleeves of his elegant morning coat, thereby displaying the latest thing in heliotrope shirts, “now, then, I draw this beautiful, seemingly solid silver head out of its cunningly arranged socket. There! And you perceive, Inspector, that it is not solid, but hollow ! You will further perceive what I confess I am much surprised at—that it is-empty!" God bless my soul !” exclaimed Inspector Dwayne. "You're a very clever young gentle- man, Mr. Tyndale. Who on earth would have thought of that ?" “There's nothing at all clever about me,” said Mr. Tyndale. “What seems cleverness is genius -it was born, not made, like the chaps who write bad poetry. Besides, I've seen a stick like this before. And, Inspector, this is not solid silver-I mean the shell of the hollow- but lead, thickly coated with silver. If the stick had ever been in long and constant use the silver would have worn through. But the stick has been kept for the most part as an heirloom." HIDDEN TREASURE 173 “And you're surprised it's empty, sir ?” said the Inspector "I am—very Now I invite you to a further examination,” continued' Mr Tyndale. "You perceive that, the head having been removed, that part of the stick which we will call the hilt is hollow and is lined with a leaden tubing That hollow is some six inches deep. What do you suppose this hollow hilt and hollow head were intended for, Inspector ? Don't know and can't guess? Well, I'll tell you—to conceal precious stones in !" “Bless me !” exclaimed Inspector Dwayne. “You don't say so ?” “I do,” answered Mr. Tyndale assertively. "You could have packed a small, ay, a big fortune in diamonds into those two cavities. Why, look, the hollow head would hold a stone as big as a pigeon's egg comfortably; the hollow tube in the hilt is at least six inches long and a good inch in diameter. How many loose dia- monds do you suppose you could pack in that, Inspector ?". But Inspector Dwayne, lost in wonderment, could only shake his head. His visitor replaced the head of the sword-stick and returned the blade to the sheath. He balanced the whole across his fingers. And suddenly he glanced sharply at the ferrule end of the stick, balanced it again, and gave the Inspector a queer, specu- lative look. “Inspector," he said, "I-I shouldn't wonder 174 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE if this stick contains something. See where it balances. And look at the ferrule." The ferrule, Inspector Dwayne admitted, was certainly uncommon. Like the head, it was of silver, terminating in a leaden shoe, quite half an inch thick, and the fact that the latter was little worn showed that the stick had never been subjected to much usage. It was secured to the cane by two silver screws. Mr. Tyndale looked at them longingly. “I dare say it's two or three centures since the screws were put in, Inspector," he said insinua- tingly. “Shall I take them out ?” Inspector Dwayne showed signs of much per- turbation. “I really don't know what to say, Mr. Tyndale," he said. "I really don't, sir! I should like that stick to be shown to the Coroner and to the magistrate just as it was found, but "But it might be just as well to make a thorough examination of it first, eh, Inspector ?" said Mr. Tyndale. “Now I've a very useful tool in one of my pockets that I never fail to carry about and that will help us considerably." Inspector Dwayne, who was in reality very curious to know what his caller was after, held the cane down, while Mr. Tyndale produced a curious-looking implement which seemed to be a compound of all sorts of things, and was really a superior combination tool that could be turned to many useful purposes. "The very best" Sheffield steel,” said Mr. HIDDEN TREASURE 175 Tyndale, drawing out of this strange-looking implement a neat screwdriver. “You get one, Inspector—they’re awfully useful. Now, then !" The first screw came out steadily. "Turn him over," commanded Mr. Tyndale. The second screw presented no greater diffi- culty. "Now then, Inspector,” said the operator, "let's have this ferrule off.” It required some vigorous wrist-work on the part of both of them to twist the ferrule off, but at last, Mr. Tyndale grasping the stick and the Inspector twisting the ferrule, the latter came away with a squeak of reproach at having been disturbed after such a long term of repose, and Mr. Tyndale held the unshod end up and peered at it through his monocle. “Ha," he said triumphantly, "just what I expected or, at any rate, hoped to find. Another hollow, another leaden tube and, Inspector, this one is not empty. See ?" The tube fixed in the hollow seemed to be filled with wool-fine wool, snowy white, and packed and compressed so tightly as to form a solid wad. Mr. Tyndale almost danced with joy, and Inspector Dwayne felt his pulses throb faster. “Here's larks !' exclaimed Mr. Tyndale. "Inspector, hold the stick on the desk while I draw out its treasure. I'll lay you a thousand to one we're going to find something. But what, Inspector, what ? HIDDEN TREASURE 177 I'll see that the things don't run away, Inspector.” Thereupon he lighted a cigar and sat down to ruminate until the return of Inspector Dwayne, who not only brought back with him his Chief, but two or three other high-and-mighty per- sonages whom, on the way, he made acquainted with the history of the sword-stick up to that point. “It strikes me you've got a sort of natural bent for this sort of thing, my young friend,” said the Chief quizzically, after greeting Mr. Tyndale and glancing at the find. “A species of genius, eh ?" “All our family are afflicted with curiosity which is hard to repress,” replied Mr. Tyndale. “We don't boast of it. And you see, we know something about old sticks because we collect 'em. I thought I could be of some service-in suggesting things, you know." Well, let's see what there is in this cocoon- looking thing," said the Chief. “I am not with- out curiosity myself.” The fine silk which wrapped the wool formed a coil which they estimated at several scores of yards in length. It took some time to wind it off upon an improvised spool, but at last the compressed wool was free, and the Chief broke it open, while they all stood excited and expec- tant round the desk. And then they saw what Mr. Tyndale's ingenuity had discovered. Ten magnificent pearls ! M 178 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE They stood gazing in silence at these treasures of the sea, wondering whose hand had placed them in this strange receptacle, and when, and for what purpose. And then they fell to dis- cussing the probability of the hollow in the handle having contained similar treasure, and if so, as to when it had been removed, and the Chief invited Mr. Tyndale to give his opinion. Mr. Tyndale modestly replied that although he certainly knew a great deal, he didn't know that, and added that, if his opinion on the whole matter was wanted, it amounted simply to this --that the whole affair was a jolly queer business and a most interesting mystery. In order to do something further towards solving the mystery, Inspector Dwayne, who was so busy that he scarcely had time to snatch his meals, paid a second visit to the City and to the genuine Mr. Olivares. He was somewhat astonished, on entering the outer office of the wine-merchant's establishment, to find his knock answered by Mr. Olivares himself, who greeted him politely, led him into his own room, and asked how he could serve him further. “The fact is, sir," answered Inspector Dwayne, "I want to ask your clerk a few questions about the matter on which I called here yesterday.” “Yes," said the wine-merchant, showing his surprise. “Well, I am afraid that is not possible at least, not just now. The fact is, Mr. Fernandes received news late yesterday afternoon of the illness of a brother who lives in Paris, and HIDDEN TREASURE 179 he would leave for there by the night mail and may not be back for some days." Inspector Dwayne consulted his memory-it was past eleven o'clock on the previous day when he had seen Fernandes in Regent Street. He debated the question quickly-should he say more on the matter to Mr. Olivares or not? He decided to say nothing, and merely remarking that he would call on the clerk later, he went away, leaving the wine-merchant wondering why he had been at all. Mitchell was awaiting his return and was evidently full of news and impatient. “I'm glad you've come, Inspector," he said. “I've been waiting some little time. There's some news come in from Highbury about an old gentleman who's missing, and from certain things in the description, I'm pretty sure it's that old Grandfather Punctuality.” THE HOUSE AT HIGHBURY 181 “I'd forgotten it for the moment. But—just wait a minute, Mitchell, while I step to the telephone.” He rang up Mr. Aaron Abrahams, who, as he never went out except to his religious duties, was on the spot. "Is that you, Mr. Abrahams ?” he asked. “This is Inspector Dwayne.” “Yes, my dear sir," answered Mr. Abrahams. “When the old gentleman-you know whom I mean-called at your place yesterday, was he wearing a patch over his left eye ?” "No, indeed, sir," replied the curio dealer. “Just as usual ?" "Just as usual.' "Have you ever seen him wear a patch ?” “Never, my dear sir.” “All right, thank you ; good-bye.” Without waiting to receive Mr. Abrahams' farewell, the Inspector rang off, and returned to Mitchell, muttering to himself, “If it were he, and he lost his eye there, he's had a new one fitted between our seeing him at Marks's shop and his visit to Abrahams yesterday. Well, Mitchell, go on,” he said as he sat down again. “Give me the facts." “It could scarcely be called a 'missing' case,” said Mitchell. “The old gentleman in question has only been 'missing', as his daughter calls it, one night-last night." “What's she uneasy for, then ?” asked the Inspector. 182 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE “Because it's the very first night he's ever been away from his home,” replied Mitchell . “Briefly, it's this. Miss Catherine Berridge, of twenty-one Dermiston Road, Highbury, reported that she was uneasy about her father, Anthony Berridge, who, for the first time in her recollection, failed to return home last night, and of whose where- abouts she knows nothing. As he is a very old man-probably over eighty years of age—and of such regular habits, she is afraid something may have happened to him. She describes him as thin and stooping, clean-shaven, as having lost most of his teeth and the left eye, in which he wears an artificial substitute, and as wearing a somewhat worn suit of black, and an old- fashioned tall hat and black stock.' Inspector Dwayne listened to this attentively. He rubbed his chin, considering matters. "I wonder if he was at Marks's shop last night ?” he said. "No, he wasn't," answered Mitchell. "I made sure of that. And I've been there to- day." more. The Inspector thought matters over a little Then he started into action again, and locked up his desk—a sure sign, as Mitchell knew, that he meant to have a hard evening's work outside. “Come along, Mitchell," said Inspector Dwayne. “We'll go and see this Miss Berridge. And after that—but let's get that done with first." 184 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE to dwell, and in Inspector Dwayne's opinion they did not exactly fit in with what he had seen of Grandfather Punctuality. “Doesn't seem very likely the old man would live in a street like this, Mitchell,” he said, voicing his thoughts. “These houses'll let for not a penny less than eighty-five to a hundred a year." “Just so, sir,” agreed Mitchell. “But then," he added with a philosophic shake of his head, "you never can tell in these cases. The old man might be as rich as what-d’ye-call-him ! There's no knowing. Here's the house, anyway, Inspector." Outwardly, at any rate, No. 21 looked just as genteel, solid and respectable, as its neighbours. The garden was ornamented by a statue of Ceres enthroned on a pedestal ; the window-blinds and curtains were unimpeachable ; the steps were stainless, and the brasswork of the front door was so highly polished that it shone like burnished gold. Inspector Dwayne was more than ever convinced that they had come on a fruitless errand, and he rang the bell in a doleful manner, which became more doleful when a smart maid- servant answered the summons. Somehow she did not seem to fit in with Grandfather Punctuality, rank tobacco, and Mr. Marks's spirit-bottle. The maid conducted them into a room on the left of the hall—a solidly furnished, middle- Victorian sort of apartment, which appeared to - THE HOUSE AT HIGHBURY 185 be a dining-room such as highly respectable people favour. They had not been a minute in this before a lady hurriedly entered. It was obvious that this arrival had set up a state of considerable nervous agitation in her. She advanced upon Inspector Dwayne with question- ing eyes and hands. . “Oh,” she said, "I-I hope you have brought me no bad news of my father?” “No, ma'am, no !” replied the Inspector hastily ; "certainly not, ma'am-Miss Berridge, I suppose ? The fact is, ma'am, we haven't brought any news at all—we came to get some information. Don't be afraid, ma'am. Miss Berridge sat down and silently motioned her visitors to be seated. Inspector Dwayne gathered a general impression of her in a swift glance. She was, he considered, a woman of about forty, who had been very handsome, and might still have been so but for the fact that her fine features bore the traces of some great sorrow, and that her hair, which had apparently been raven black, was now thickly streaked with white. He observed, too, that she was well dressed in something of an old-fashioned style, and wore several very good rings on her hands, which were white and shapely. And again he could connect nothing that he saw with Grandfather Punctuality. Miss Berridge, who had now recovered her composure, glanced at Inspector Dwayne's card, which he had sent in by the maid, and then at him, 186 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE “Yes ?" she said. “What can I tell you ?” "Well, ma'am,” replied the Inspector, “I think I might be able to assist you, if you can answer a few questions. I understand you are anxious because Mr. Berridge didn't return home last night. Was that so very remarkable ?" “Very,” replied Miss Berridge ; "we have lived in this house since I can remember any- thing-in fact, I was born here--and this is the first time he has ever failed to return home.” “And he was a man of very regular habits, ma'am, I believe ?” said Inspector Dwayne. “The most regular,” replied Miss Berridge. “He left the house of a morning between ten and eleven and he returned home at night as a rule about half past ten. Sometimes he was later --but he invariably returned.” “Could you say what time he returned home three nights ago, ma'am ?” inquired the Inspec- tor. Miss Berridge thought the question over. “Three nights ago ?” she said. that night he was very late-it must have been half past one o'clock when he came in.” “Very late for such an old gentleman, wasn't it, ma'am ?” suggested the Inspector. “Yes, but he was often out late," said Miss Berridge. “I-I think he had friends that he went to of an evening. I had never any fear of him, because he always came home-generally in a cab." “Oh yes, THE HOUSE AT HIGH BURY 187 “I gather, then, that you didn't know much of what your father did with himself at night, ma'am ?” said Inspector Dwayne. “No,” she replied in a low voice, “I didn't. My father is a little eccentric.' “May I ask what his business or profession is ?” said the Inspector. Miss Berridge shook her head. “I don't know that, either,” she answered. “And what is more, I never did. He never told me anything, though for over twenty years I have been all he had. You see this house !” she exclaimed with some emotion. “Everything in it is full of comfort; there has always been plenty and to spare of money, and I had only to ask for anything I wanted ; but beyond seeing him in it for an hour in a morning, and a few hours on Sunday, I know nothing of his business or of his life outside these walls. He is the sort of man one dare not ask questions of.” "Just so, ma'am ; I quite understand,” said Inspector Dwayne. "Now, has your father, Mr. Berridge, any little hobbies ? in for anything ?” “He is a great collector of old china, old glass, and similar things,” answered Miss Berridge. “If you will come this way I will show you some of his collection.” She led them into a large room at the rear of the house, the windows of which commanded a view of a large garden. Here were cabinets after ; Does he go 188 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE proper order. cabinets of rare china and glass, all systemati- cally arranged and labelled, and in prim and It might have been a small museum presided over by officials. “Ah, I see !” said Inspector Dwayne. “Very fine, ma'am. Now I think Mr. Berridge wears an artificial eye? Do you know whether he had any accident to it this week ?” “Yes," replied Miss Berridge unhesitatingly. "The morning after he had been out so late he came down to breakfast with a patch over his eye and said that he had had an accident, and lost the artificial eye, but laughed, and remarked that he could soon buy another. In fact, yester- day morning he appeared with the new one, and went out wearing it.” “Ah, I think I've seen your father sometimes looking round the old shops,” said the Inspector diplomatically. “In fact, I'm sure I have. Don't you be afraid, ma'am-I've no doubt he will turn up all right. He hasn't had any great trouble of late, ma'am, has he, that would affect him a little, eh ?” “He had a terrible trouble a few years ago, Miss Berridge replied in a low tone. "My sister-ran away from home. I often think, she went on rapidly, “that he may be searching for her when he stays out so late at night. She/she was his favourite-he worshipped her !” Here Miss Berridge showed signs of great emotion, and Inspector Dwayne, promising to CHAPTER IV THE PRIVATE STAIR HAVING announced his intention of going straight to the determining event of things, Inspector Dwayne immediately set about doing it, and when he had given some instructions to Mitchell about a further visit to Marks's shop that evening, with particulars of what he wished him to do there in certain eventualities, he began another stage of his campaign in an eminently wise and practical manner-by going to dine.' He knew of a good and quiet restaurant in the neighbour- hood of the Haymarket, where a truly English dinner could be had amidst peaceful surround- ings, to the accompaniment of a bottle of sound claret, and he went there and had it, and after- wards took his time over a cigar, and a cup of coffee, and the evening newspaper ; and during the hour and a half which he spent in this way he did not waste a single thought on the Barten- stein case, but resolutely kept his mind clear of it. But when the Inspector finally emerged into the life of the streets again he was keener and 199 THE PRIVATE STAIR 191 ; more resolved than ever, and once more his brain went actively to work. It was approaching dusk when he mounted an omnibus in Piccadilly, and quite dusk when he left it near Knights- bridge. He finished and threw away his cigar as he came to Princes Gate-with it went the shreds of the evening's recreation. “Now," said Inspector Dwayne, "for business.” He had two objects in view that night. The first was to make another examination of Marcus Bartenstein's study; the second to see the woman who had given Miss Oxenham what she believed to be a clue to the real murderer. Inspector Dwayne was already convinced that that was the real clue ; he remembered now what Berridge, alias Grandfather Punctuality, had said to Lauder- dale as he left Marks's shop. The words might be taken as meaning a belief that the younger man had committed the crime, and a con- gratulation thereon. Inspector Dwayne now placed another and a sinister meaning on them. Taking everything into consideration, he had come to the conclusion that Berridge had some cause of hatred, amounting to a fiendish malice, against Bartenstein, and that, having gained access to his room, probably by the turret staircase, he had stabbed him to death with the weapon, which was as much a mystery as the murder. The Bartenstein household was still in the same state as on the fatal night, for the dead man, whose body had that day been viewed by the jury at the preliminary and formal stage of the THE 193 PRIVATE STAIR drunk it off, said that the house was dismal and he should be glad to be outside it. "However, the fortunate residuary legatee will rouse it up!” he said, drawing on his heliotrope gloves and pulling down his cuffs. “Egad, Cunningham, he's a lucky fellow, young Rosen- baum, eh? No such luck for us, my boy, more's the pity “Is Mr. Rosenbaum the sole heir, sir ?" inquired the Inspector. “Well, he's not sole heir, nor any sort of heir, Dwayne, don't you know? But he's sole resi- duary legatee under Mr. Bartenstein's will, ich I prepared. He takes everything beyond legacies. I had a cablegram from Mr. Rosen- baum this afternoon,” he continued grandly. “He sails from Cape Town this evening, and in the meantime I am in full charge. Anything I can do for you before I go, Dwayne ?" “Nothing, thank you, Mr. Behrens,” replied the Inspector. “I merely wish to have another look at the study—if there's anything I want to know, Mr. Cunningham will be kind enough to tell me all he can." “Well, so long then,” said Mr. Behrens. “Though why on earth you want to waste your time here for, or anywhere else, in this case, I don't know! As I said before, the case is as plain as a pikestaff, but you chaps from the Yard delight in making as many bites at a cherry as ever you can. However, I suppose you must do something for your money." N THE 197 PRIVATE STAIR وو could I tell from the voice, for they were con- versing in very low tones.” “Ah, then you could hear as well as see !" exclaimed the Inspector. “I always keep my windows wide open,” replied Cunningham, “and when I can't sleep I sit at one of them. It's the only thing I can do. I can't read in bed." “Then you've heard him and other people talking ?” 'asked Inspector Dwayne. “Oh, frequently ! There was never anything particular in their conversation," said the secre- tary. "They seemed to have been having a drink and a smoke together. I took them to be some of his friends from the House or from the City. There was generally a motor or a hansom waiting in the side street then.” “I suppose you saw most of his callers during the morning here ?" asked the Inspector. “Unless he admitted them by the private door, which he could do, because at the wall entrance there is an electric bell and a speaking- tube which communicates with this apparatus on the desk,” said Cunningham. "Well, now, did you ever see a queer, antiquary- looking sort of chap here, an old man in rusty- black clothes -?” “Several times," interrupted Cunningham. “But Mr. Bartenstein always admitted him by the private way. “Did you ever know his business ?” asked the Inspector. 2 CHAPTER V A HEAVY SECRET The quick eye of the man practised to be observant saw what his younger companion did not see—the slightest tremor in the woman's frame, the least quiver of the lines about her mouth, the suspicion of a look of fear in her eyes. Inspector Dwayne knew that she knew him, and that she was nerving herself to show that she did not. It seemed to him, as he stood there watching her keenly under the glare of the electric light, which she had evidently switched on when she opened the door of the coachman's house, that he had seen this woman before, a long, long way back in his life, but where, and when, and under what circumstances he could not think. Then he realized that Cunningham was speaking, and that the woman was giving her attention to him. “Oh-er-good evening !" the secretary was saying. “Is Atkinson within ?” "Atkinson,” answered the woman, “is out, sir.' “Well,” said the secretary, "I'm sure Atkinson 199 200 CASE THE BARTENSTEIN wouldn't mind. This gentleman just wants to have a look from one of the upper windows into the garden.” “Mrs. Atkinson is ill,” said the woman shortly. Cunningham looked round at Inspector Dwayne in perplexity. The Inspector came to the rescue. “If you'll allow me, ma'am,” he said suavely, "just to step upstairs to any convenient room that overlooks the gardens, I shall make no noise—I'll even take my boots off, if you like." The woman seemed to recognize the in- evitable, and made way. Inspector Dwayne stepped inside and turned to the secretary. "Thank you, Mr. Cunningham," he said ; "there's no need to trouble you further, sir. I shan't be more than a few minutes, and there's a door into the side street, I know, by which this good lady will let me out. Good night, sir." Cunningham said good night and went away across the gardens, and the good woman closed the door softly. She turned to the detective with studied indifference. if you please,” she said. She led him up a staircase which opened from the little hall, and taking him into a neatly furnished bedroom on the next floor, turned up the electric light. “You can see all over the garden from here,” she said, pointing to the window, “just as you can from all the windows looking out on this side of the house." "Just so, ma'am,” said the Inspector, speaking “This way, A HE A VY SECRET 201 in a whisper. “But I shall see much better if you would turn down the light. If If you don't mind doing so, ma'am, and just remaining while my eyes get accustomed to the gloom outside, I shall be obliged to you, and I promise you I'll not detain you many minutes." The woman turned off the light without hesitation, and Inspector Dwayne, who had already crossed over to the window, looked out upon the garden beneath. He soon convinced himself that anybody standing in one of the upper windows of the coachman's house could command a full view of the private door, the trellised path which led from it to the turret stair, and the door of the stair itself. “Thank you, ma'am,” he said. She switched on the light, stood aside for him to leave the room, turned the light off, and followed him out. Then she pointed down the staircase. “The street door is exactly opposite that you came in by,” she said in a low voice. “I dare say you can find it. I am wanted here." She nodded towards a door on her left and was turning to it when Inspector Dwayne stopped her. “Thank you, ma'am," he said ; “I can find it, I am sure, but”-he paused, looking at her significantly—“I want a word with you first.” Watching her narrowly, he saw her turn white to the lips, and for a moment he thought she was going to faint. But suddenly recovering herself, 202 CASE THE BARTENSTEIN she moved past him down the stairs and, beckon- ing him to follow her, led him into a small parlour and closed the door. When she faced him he noticed that her fists were tightly clenched, and that she was striving to exercise some great con- trol over herself. “Well ?” she said. Inspector Dwayne laid his hat on the table. “Now, ma'am,” he said soothingly, “there's no need whatever for you to be alarmed, or disturbed, or anything. But I've got my duty to do and I must do it. It was you who met Miss Oxenham on Primrose Hill last night and who gave her this artificial eye. It was you who picked up that eye in the garden outside on the morning after Mr. Bartenstein's murder, and who saw some unknown person leave the private door that night.” The woman faced him with something like defiance. “So Miss Oxenham--a lady !-has betrayed me !” she exclaimed. "And tracked me—after her promise !" “Now, ma’am,” said the Inspector in his mildest manner, “Miss Oxenham has done nothing of the sort. You were followed from Primrose Hill by someone without either Miss Oxenham's knowledge or mine—someone acting on his own responsibility. That someone in- formed me. Now I want you to tell me why you can't give your evidence freely on behalf of Lieutenant Lauderdale ? You know what it means." A HEA V Y SECRET 203 "I can't and I won't !” she said. "There- that's flat.” Inspector Dwayne picked up his hat. “Then, in that case, ma'am,” he said, “I shall have to summon you as witness.” “Then, in that case, Inspector Dwayne, I shall také my life !” she answered. The Inspector hesitated, looking at her narrowly. And again the conviction that he had seen her before somewhere, a long, long time ago, forced itself upon him. He remained silent, watching her still more attentively. He judged her to be at least sixty years of age, though her dark hair was scarcely shot with grey, and her tall, well-shaped figure was as erect as his own. She had been a beautiful and was still a handsome woman, and Inspector Dwayne admired her as she stood there in an attitude of resolute defiance. “I know you now," he said suddenly. "You are, or were, Mary Simpson, of my own old town, Beechminster. You won't remember me -I was a good ten or twelve years younger than you." The woman's lips trembled, and for a moment the Inspector thought she would burst into tears. But she controlled herself and, sitting down, sighed deeply. “Look here, Mary—if I may call you so, for old times' sake," said Inspector Dwayne, “I gather you owe some debt of gratitude to the Lauderdales. Pay it off! He's a fine young A HEA VY SECRET 205 box about this, Mr. Dwayne,” she said, taking a chair opposite his and speaking in a low voice. “It's because things would come out that would ruin other people's happiness. “What people ?” asked the Inspector. “My husband, my three sons, and my two daughters,” she answered. “The children are all grown up, Mr. Dwayne, and doing well. And—they're fond of me. And respect me." “I'm sure !” said the Inspector. She bent nearer to him across the table, and a dull red overspread her features. Inspector Dwayne saw that the next words came with an effort. “Mr. Dwayne, the girl who's lying ill upstairs is my daughter,” she said. “Indeed!” said the Inspector. “Yes. But not-not of the family I spoke of,” she murmured. “I see, ma'am,” said the Inspector. “You've been married twice." The woman bent her head lower over the table. “No !” she whispered. In the silence that followed Inspector Dwayne began to understand. He also began to com- prehend certain other things. “Ah !” he said kindly. "I see—I see! Yes, to be sure." She remained silent some time ; when she spoke again, she looked up and faced him bravely. 206 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE “I suppose it's the old story,” she said. “But that doesn't make it any better, Mr. Dwayne. You see, when I left Beechminster I came to London into service-to the Lauderdales : they were living in Eaton Square then. I was young, and handsome, and headstrong, and fond of gaiety, and I used to get out as often as I could. I met a man-a good twenty years older than myself—who seemed to be a gentleman. He paid me a lot of attention and used to take me out. And, of course, the usual thing happened—at least, what they call the usual thing - I hope it isn't. When he'd had his will of me he was off. I never saw him again.” “Ay !" said Inspector Dwayne. “I see.” “Then”-she nodded her head to the ceiling- "she came. It was then that this young Lauder- dale's mother was so good to me. If it hadn't been for her, I don't know what I should have done. The child was put with good, respectable people, and I made a fresh start. And after a year or two I met-my husband.” She paused, and Inspector Dwayne made no comment. “Mr. Dwayne—I never told him! He was that fond of me, and thought so high of me, that I couldn't. If Mrs. Lauderdale had been living, I'd have got her to tell him, but she was dead. And I married him, and we did well- and he doesn't know to this day. And if he did- and if the children did—oh !" Inspector Dwayne nodded at the ceiling. 212 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE Inspector Dwayne meditatively. “I wonder what those folk would say who tell you that it's all chance." If the Inspector had been more of what he called a scholar, he would have improved the occasion by reminding himself of the late Mr. Alexander Pope's famous lines, but as he was not at that time able to indulge in taste for reading, he was not conversant with them, and so devoted himself to reconsidering the infor- mation which the one-time Mary Simpson had given him. For, having once opened the closed book of her life, she had been encouraged by Inspector Dwayne's obvious sympathy for his old townswoman to speak fully and freely, and it had probably been a relief to her to tell what had been locked up from all the world for so long. It appeared that she had never known much of this Anthony Berridge. She had met him casually at a theatre and been flattered by his attentions. She described him as being then a very handsome man, something like an actor in appearance--indeed, she had always believed him to be an actor, and had teased him on the matter. He had never made any reply of a direct nature, but had laughed at her and said she should know all in good time. He was always well dressed and appeared to have plenty of money. One peculiarity she had noticed about him and still remembered, and that was that he wore a profusion of rings, but was always chang- ing them, and that he had the same habit as MURDER AT THE HOTEL VENEZIA 213 regards his scarf-pin. They were not ordinary rings or pins, she said—they were curious things to look at ; and he had told her that they were very old and very valuable. From her description of these things Inspector Dwayne was pretty sure that even at that time Anthony Berridge had been carrying on a trade in antique gems, cameos, and intaglios. And even then to the girl whom he had ruined he was a mystery ; she knew nothing of where he lived or who he was, and he had gone out of her life as suddenly as he had entered it. Gone out! Yes, thought Inspector Dwayne, as he walked along-gone out !-but only to come back into it in a way which neither he nor she could have dreamed of! If she had not been in attendance on their own child, if she had not chanced to look out of that window, if “ 'If ifs and buts were apples and nuts'," said the Inspector, recalling an old rhyme familiar in childhood. “Well, it's a queer world. What I want now, and must have, is Master Anthony Berridge.” He had told the woman nothing of Grand- father Punctuality, nor of his suspicions, nor of Dermiston Road, nor of anything. He had left her with a promise that, whatever happened, her secret should be safe in his hands, for he was already fairly confident that her name need never be brought into public notice. Yet, if she she had not seen- The Inspector had arranged with Mitchell ? 214 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE to meet him at the corner of Knightsbridge and Brompton Road, and as he had plenty of time to spare, he walked but slowly along, enjoying the cool air and the fragrance of a second cigar. He had passed the barracks and was thinking of crossing the road, when he suddenly caught sight of the pseudo Mr. Olivares, who, seated in a motor-car, was just passing him in the full glare of a brilliant lamp. The car was travelling fast- as fast as regulations permitted—but the In- spector was certain of his man, who, at the moment of passing, was lifting his hat from his head as if to cool his forehead. He was also able to note that the car, a fine tra ling Daimler, was painted a bright green. And as he could neither stop it nor go after it, even if there had been the facilities at hand, which there were not, Inspector Dwayne steadied himself, gave one searching look, and was successful in snapping the number as it flashed into and sank out of the circle of light. LX 5031. He wrote the letters and figures down in his note-book and went leisurely onward, having still some minutes to spare. But as he came within sight of the trysting-place, he was aware of Mitchell, who, obviously in a state of great excitement, was walking up and down the pave- ment, looking in all directions, and evidently wishing that Inspector Dwayne would appear. And at that the Inspector hurried forward. He was on Mitchell before the latter saw him. MURDER AT THE HOTEL VENEZIA 215 “What is it, Mitchell ?” he asked quietly. Mitchell turned quickly with a sigh of relief. He pointed to a taxi-cab which stood at the kerb. “I'm glad you've come, Inspector,” he said. “I've been here ten minutes, hoping you might be a bit in advance. Get in—the man knows where to drive. Quick as you can !” he called to the driver as they entered the cab. “And the shortest way.” “What is it ?” asked Inspector Dwayne, as they went swiftly away in the direction of Piccadilly: “There's a message come down for you from an hotel in Golden Square,” said Mitchell. “Hotel-Hotel Venezia. The manager wants you there quick ; he was so confused and spoke so indistinctly, and such bad English, that I couldn't make it all out, but it was something about a man dying from poison, who mentioned you, and some diamonds, and an old man-that was all I could ; get at." "Poisons-diamonds an old man ?" said In- spector Dwayne. “Sounds queer, Mitchell. I wonder if the old man has any connection with Berridge ?" “That,” replied Mitchell, "is exactly what I was wondering. Though, why it should have, I don't know. They were in Golden Square in a very few minutes, and soon found the Hotel Venezia, which Inspector Dwayne immediately recog- MURDER AT THE HOTEL VENEZIA 217 him. He is visit twice by another gentleman whose name I do not know-a tall gentleman with fine moustache and beard and the grand manner-I think him certainly not English. They were very good friends these two-they dine together and are very amicable. This afternoon they come in together about the time of . “A little after five,” said Madame, seeing her husband falter. “A little after five, then," continued Mon- sieur. "They rest a while in the smoking-room, afterwards they demand a bottle of wine in Mr. Martin's apartment upstairs. It is carried to them. After that I hear nor see anything of them until it is almost dark. Then the friend, carrying some letters in his hand, come down, and as he pass out, make the adieu to me and my wife. All rests tranquil—we hear nothing-we suspect nothing. After along time has passed, the chambermaid come to say she hear strange sound from the apartment of Mr. Martin. I proceed there- “I also !” exclaimed Madame. "I, myself !" “We proceed there,” said Monsieur. “We open the door. We find Mr. Martin-he make a faint groan on the bed. We turn up the light-he is unconscious. We send for mon- sieur the doctor there--till he comes we examine him, the sufferer. There is no mark, no blood- yet he is unconscious, he is dying! We look about the apartment—we find this ?" CHAPTER II THE WAYSIDE INN THE two detectives went out of the little foreign hotel in Golden Square to set in motion one of the most perfect machines which this world has ever known-a machine more intricate, and at the same time more simple, than any tangible in- vention. Somewhere, speeding speeding through the night, with another man's death on his soul, was a fugitive from justice ; the province of that machine was to release the outer edges of a gigan- tic net which, closing in on every side, should draw nearer and nearer together until no way of escape was left. Sometimes a slippery fish found a mesh in that net which was big enough to glide through with care, or to wriggle through with a little difficulty, but not often, for as a rule the net was drawn together with startling rapidity. And so mes- sages flashed along the telegraph wires, and tele- phone bells rang everywhere, and there was great excitement and sometimes stopping of machines in the newspaper offices, and before midnight every care had been taken to let everybody in 220 224 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE . runner, fetching his breath in pants. “Great fine car-run clean into the old pin-fold. We think the driver's dead and the other man's unconscious. Can we bring them here, Mr. Marrett, and could you send one of your men for Dr. Sprig ?” “All right," said the landlord. “Any more of 'em-any ladies ?” “No, sir-only them two,” replied the man outside. The landlord roused his household, man and maid ; in a few minutes “The Jolly Woodman” was lighted from top to bottom; rooms were being prepared ; a man was hastening away on a bicycle to the next village for medical help. And a few minutes later came a little procession with the two victims of the accident carried on hastily improvised stretchers, and under the supervision of the policeman who lived in one of the cottages near the pound, and happened not to have gone to bed, having only just come in from his nightly patrol. The unfortunate chauffeur was dead enough, with doubt, and had probably been killed on the spot. As for the occupant of the car, a tall, handsome, bearded man of foreign appearance, he seemed to have been hurled through the glass- work of the front of the car and was much cut and disfigured. But there were presumably worse injuries than this, for he was unconscious and looked more dead than alive. And so for that night the folk of "The Jolly THE WAYSIDE 225 I NN Woodman” knew no rest, and the inhabitants of the houses and cottages around the lonely heath rose out of their beds and gathered about the inn, or went to the scene of the accident, and discussed it in all its phases, and everyone agreed with Mr. Marrett's first opinion, that it was a very dangerous corner for them as didn't know it, and that, spite of notices and what not, it ought to have been done away with long since, so it did. That, however, did not mend matters for the victims, one of whom was already laid out in readiness for the coroner's inquiry, and the other was pronounced by the doctor to be mortally injured. To the doctor-a young practitioner lately settled down to a country practice—and the local constable, the thick of the honours and business of the night naturally fell. There was nothing to be done for the chauffeur but to search his pockets for any particulars of his identity, and that search revealed him as Stephen Green of Lime Avenue, Battersea. But the examination of the passenger, who had been carried into the best bedroom of “The Jolly Wood- man”, because of his superior appearance, was both sensational and surprising, for the doctor immediately discovered that the very fine beard and moustaches were false !-most beautifully and artistically fashioned and fitted, but un- deniably false. And when they were removed, the man's ashen face looked very, very different. “There's some mystery here," said the doctor P 226 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE to those around him—the landlord, his house- keeper, and the policeman. “Say nothing about it outside-whoever he is, we must do what we can.' They searched the man's clothing, in the hope of discovering something that would lead to his identification. To the comfort of the landlord, whose spirits had fallen at the evidence of dis- guise, there was brought to light a considerable sum of money in notes, gold, and silver, but of papers of any sort there was not a trace. In fact, beyond such matters as a cigar-case, match- box, watch, and so on, there was nothing on the man. Yet, stay-here was something in a pocket inside his waistcoat-a packet done up in cartridge paper and sealed. Not a big packet- but weighty. Nothing else anywhere-not even a card-case. The doctor saw the landlord lock these matters and the money in his safe, and devoted himself to his patient, having already dispatched a messenger for further professional help. As for the policeman, who was greatly amazed by the incident of the false beard and moustaches, he, on the doctor's suggestion, repaired to the damaged car, in order to see if he could find any trace of the injured man's identity amongst the baggage which it might be supposed to contain. But upon reaching the car, which presented a sad spectacle in the grey light then falling across the heath, the policeman discovered that there was not so much as a handbag in it. In fact, THE 227 WAYSIDE INN beyond the ordinary furnishings, there was nothing to be found in the car, but a silver- mounted umbrella and a travelling-rug ; so the constable went back to “The Jolly Woodman” as wise as he had left it. The extra medical advice arrived and con- sulted with what was already on the spot, and sent away for still more experience, and the night wore on, and the man who had disguised himself for some purpose of which these people knew nothing, still lay in "The Jolly Woodman's” best bedroom, knowing nothing, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, but alive. They came to the conclusion that his spine was injured, that he was internally injured, that he was, in fact, drawing near to death. And they tried to restore him to consciousness, if only to hear who he was, and if he wanted to do anything, or to send for anybody, or say a word or two before he died. The constable spent the remaining hours of the night in close attendance on "The Jolly Wood- man”. It was a trying experience, because he had already been out on a long patrol before the accident occurred, and being an ambitious young officer he was greatly concerned about the false beard, which to him spelt Suspicious Circumstances. He was, therefore, very much pleased when at half past six o'clock Mr. Marrett invited him to a hot breakfast, with the remark that he was sure he could do with it. It was after that grateful breakfast of toasted bacon, new-laid eggs, and hot coffee that the 228 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE grand opportunity of that young constable's life came. For as he sat smoking his pipe in the parlour after breakfast, in walked the newspaper- boy, and handed Mr. Marrett his morning budget of the world's doings. Mr. Marrett threw it over to the constable. "No time for news-reading just now !” he said. The constable took the paper, and glanced it over, at first with indifference, then with interest. And saying that he would sit in the garden awhile and finish his pipe, he went out, taking the news with him. But instead of sitting in the garden, he hurried up the road to the damaged car, and turning back the tarpaulin which had been placed over it, looked anxiously at the number-LX 5031. Then he covered the number up again and sped away to the telegraph office. He saw him- self a sergeant or inspector. It was just two hours and twenty minutes after that, that another car drew up at “The Jolly Woodman”, and out of it stepped Inspector Dwayne. The constable met him and made obeisance to the great man. "It was me that sent the wire, sir,” he said. “The man's conscious now, and the doctor said I was to take you up at once—this way, sir.” Inspector Dwayne walked into the best bed- room and looked at the wreck on the bed. And he turned to Mitchell with a sudden exclamation. “Good heavens !” he cried. "Dick the Tale- pitcher !" CHAPTER III IN AT THE DEATH THE sick man, restored to consciousness, but very weak and gradually drawing nearer and nearer to the end, heard Inspector Dwayne's exclamation, and opening his eyes looked up from under the bandages which swathed his head. And to the astonishment of those about him, the doctors, Mitchell, the policeman, and Mr. Marrett, who, by virtue of his position, had been allowed to enter the room, he smiled faintly—and tried to wink. “Hullo, Dwayne !” he said, in a feeble whisper. “You're—you're in at the death, eh ?” Inspector Dwayne looked at him fixedly, and not without some pity. He motioned to the elder of the two doctors and drew him out of the room into a little parlour on the same landing. "Are this man's injuries fatal ?” he asked. “Absolutely," answered the doctor. “How long can he live ?” asked the Inspector. “Possibly an hour and a half-possibly two hours,” the doctor replied. “He will go quickly at the last.” 229 234 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE was a fanciful chap, and had read a lot, and he puzzled over that, and he used to say to me and to Billy, whom he'd told about this story, that he'd lay any odds that stick contained something. ‘Because,' he said, “it was a well-known fact that valuables were concealed in all sorts of places in troublous times-boot-heels and false bottoms of snuff-boxes, and I don't know what.' Heused to say he'd give anything to get hold of that sword-stick, but, of course, he didn't know what had become of it. And then came the Bartenstein murder." He paused, and the three men listening to him looked at one another, wondering what he was going to say next. “You know your own business best, Dwayne," he went on, “but you just happened to play into our hands when you let the newspaper men get hold of all the particulars about that cursed sword-stick. Of course, Fernandes was certain it was the one we were after. Then he coached me up in all the palaver I afterwards reeled off to you, and we laid out good money on that make-up and I came. Of course, I never expected to get the stick from you—all we wanted was that I should see it and know where you kept it. To get hold of it after that was an easy matter. Billy got into your room, opened the cupboard, stuck the stick into the tin case-he was an architect's clerk once, was Billy—and walked away with it. And sure enough when we examined the stick we found that the handle was hollow-only there was nothing in it.” IN A T 237 THE DEATH man. Inspector. "You gave Fernandes the poison, of course ?" “You may take it at that now," answered the “And serve him right-he'd done us once before." “You may as well give your real name, you know,” said the Inspector, finishing his writing. “Come, now !” But the Tale-pitcher gave him a look before which even Inspector Dwayne felt uneasy. He scrawled some initials at the foot of the sheet, dropped the paper, and turned his head away with closed eyes. “Glad you were in at the death, Dwayne,” he murmured feebly. “I've had a good run.” Ten minutes later Inspector Dwayne and his assistant were speeding back to London with a package of diamonds in their possession, and more food for thought in their minds. CHAPTER IV FOR VENGEANCE THERE were rumours all that morning in police and newspaper circles that something extra- ordinary was about to happen in connection with the Bartenstein case, and there were further hints that the muder at the Hotel Venezia was not wholly unconnected with it. These rumours and hints assumed all manner of shapes and took upon themselves many varieties of colour : the presumed murderer, Lieutenant Lauderdale, was absolutely innocent; the real murderer had been found ; the object was the theft of a quantity of diamonds which had been discovered in the criminal's possession ; the criminal had been killed in a motor-car catastrophe ; no, he had been murdered by an accomplice. So went the rumours, heightened and improved upon for the most part, and the evening newspapers had fine sales long before afternoon was reached. But definite news flew over London when, a little after twelve o'clock, in pursuance of an arrangement hastily arrived at amongst the authorities, Lieutenant Lauderdale was brought 238 FOR VENGEANCE 239 up to Bow Street and placed in the dock, only to hear the Solicitor for the Treasury, who had been deputed to prosecute him, announce to the sitting magistrate that, in consequence of informa- tion now in the hands of the police, and more especially because of an event which was about to take place, he had to announce that no evidence would be offered against the accused, to whose immediate discharge no opposition was now made. Whereupon Lieutenant Lauderdale-- greatly to his own surprise and to that of his solicitor and his friends, all of whom, with the possible exception of his fiancée and her clever cousin, Mr. Ronald Tyndale, were quite in the dark-was released, and hastened to take a seat between Miss Oxenham and Mr. Tyndale, and to become a spectator, of instead of principal actor in, this drama. That there were possibilities in the succeeding stages, much more prolific of thrills and sensations than those which had gone before, was apparent from the time the curtain went up on the sub- stituted final act. There suddenly appeared in the dock as strange a figure as had ever stepped into it—the figure of a very old, trembling, almost doddering, old man, who gripped the rails, as if unable to keep erect without their aid, and who stared about him from his one eye as if he scarcely comprehended his whereabouts. He was unshaven and unwashed, his clothes hung upon him as old garments hang on a scarecrow ; his silvery hair, dirty and matted, toothless mouth ; FOR VENGEANCE 241 engaged. Having released him, he arrested him on the present charge and warned him. He showed some surprise, and answered, though warned again, as he was just then very excited and weak because of his recent treatment, "I know Marcus Bartenstein was murdered, and I saw his body a few minutes after the murder, but I didn't do it, though whoever did it only gave him what he richly deserved." Upon searching the accused after arrest, two keys were dis- covered upon him which had since been found to fit, one, the garden door ; the other, the turret entrance door at Mr. Bartenstein's house in Princes Gate ; and there was proof, quite apart from the prisoner's own confession, that he left the house by these entrances between half past twelve and one o'clock on the morning of the murder. And so Anthony Berridge was remanded in due form, and the people who had stared open- mouthed at him, and the artists who had sketched him, and the journalists who had scribbled furi- ously about him, thinking what splendid copy he made and was going to make, surged out to spread and discuss the news, and to couple it somehow, vaguely, indefinitely, but somehow, with the event of the previous evening in Golden Square, all agreeing that the truth was by no means told in its entirety yet. As for Berridge himself, he was taken to a comfortable waiting- room until he could be removed to Brixton, and he had no sooner been installed in it than he asked for Inspector Dwayne. Q 242 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE seemed angry. The Inspector, on reaching London from "The Jolly Woodman”, had sent a messenger to Der- miston Road, for the accused man's daughter, and she had arrived at Bow Street in time to hear her father charged and remanded. She was conversing with Inspector Dwayne when Ber- ridge's message reached him, and at the detec- tive's request she accompanied him to the waiting- room, where the old man was being detained. They had allowed him to wash and brush him- self, and had given him some refreshment, and he now looked much better and more in pos- session of himself than he had appeared in court. But at the sight of his daughter he scowled and “What do you come here for?” he demanded surlily. “I did not send for you. I sent for Mr. Dwayne, there. You had best go home. Go home and have things in readiness for me-I shall be home in an hour or two.” “You know you can't go home, Berridge," said Inspector Dwayne. “I sent for your daughter. Be reasonable and polite to her. The old man rubbed and wrung his claw-like hands ; his one eye gleamed maliciously. “I must go home !” he said. “I've got things to do at home-things that nobody else can do. I can find bail-oh, to any amount. Ten thousand pounds myself, if need be- I'm a warm man, Mr. Dwayne, poor as I look. And I've friends, plenty of them, who'd stand in five ; FOR VENGEANCE 243 thousand apiece—warm men, all of them. I must go home and attend to my affairs." “It's out of the question, Berridge,” said the Inspector. “A man of your experience ought to know that quite well. If you've anything to tell your daughter, tell her now.” “I haven't anything to tell her !" the old man almost screamed. “I wanted to talk to you ; you're a man. I didn't do it, Dwayne ; I tell you once more I did not do it !” “Never mind that now,' " said Inspector Dwayne soothingly. “What's the use ? And you know I'm bound to make use of anything you say. “I know you are-I know you are !” said Berridge, almost choking in his vehemence. “I want you to make use of it, because, although I'd have killed and tortured Bartenstein, if I'd known nobody could have found it out, it wasn't I who killed the scoundrel. I wish I had killed him I wish I'd been able to cut his black heart into little pieces, and to have thrown 'em one by one to his own pet dog! I'll tell you all about it, and my daughter there can listen, and then perhaps she'll understand a few things. “If you wish to make a statement began the Inspector. “Get inks, pens, paper, anything you like !" snapped the old man impatiently. "But listen to what I've got to say. I'll tell you all about it --I mean, all I know I want to. Because I've nothing to keep back, d’ye see, eh? Let's 244 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE בין begin with—where shall we begin ?” he added, tapping his forehead. Miss Berridge laid a hand on the old man's arm. “Father !” she said. “Is it necessary- Berridge shook her off fiercely. “Go home, I tell you, if you can't keep quiet !” he shouted.""Don't mind her, Mr. Dwayne-I insist on saying what I have to say. Go away “Best'humour him, Miss Berridge,” said the Inspector, in an aside. “Let him talk. I'll use my own judgment afterwards." “We'll begin with Marcus Bartenstein,” said Berridge, who was moving restlessly about the room with his old-man shuffle. “It's about seven years since I first met Bartenstein-it was just after he came back from South Africa with his pile. He began to collect, and so he got to know me—I sold him many of his most valuable possessions. And found others for him. I made a lot of money out of Bartenstein. Let me take snuff.” He produced an old-fashioned silver snuff- box from his pocket, and after offering it to the Inspector took a hearty pinch. “Bartenstein had a great faith in my judg- ment,” he continued ; "so much so, that he depended almost implicitly upon it. And when he built his mansion at Princes Gate, he gave me keys for the private entrance. I used to visit him a good deal at night, letting myself in and out. And certainly I was there on the night he FOR VENGEANCE 245 was murdered, and I'll tell you all about that, but first of all I'll tell you about that sword- stick." He took another pinch of snuff, and, after staring reflectively at his silver box, resumed. “I am not clear about that sword-stick, Mr. Dwayne,” he said. “From what has happened- I refer to my treatment at the hands of those scoundrels !-there seems to have been some conspiracy about it. All I know is, that I bought it from Abrahams, and accidentally discovered the diamonds hidden in it. Of course I took them out. I estimate their value at quite £30,000, and I claim that they are mine. We shall see what the law says, since you tell me you have recovered them. Then I sold the stick to Bartenstein. Yes—but it was not because I sold him the stick that I went to his house on the midnight of his murder. Not at all—a quite different cause, Mr. Dwayne.” He walked once or twice round the room, taking frequent pinches of snuff, and uttering strange sounds. Inspector Dwayne saw that he was greatly excited, and motioned to Miss Berridge to make no interruption. “The real reason was this,” continued the old man, stopping in front of Dwayne and shaking his forefinger in passionate anger. “I had a daughter who was as the apple of my eye--a beautiful girl, with whom a king might have been proud to mate. to mate. This other daughter of mine can assure you that upon that child I doted 246 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE -I worshipped her. She had all that heart could desire-all ! And suddenly, one day three years ago, she disappeared—left me, her father, without a word, a line! It drove me mad- perhaps I am a little mad, just a little.”' He was silent for a while, then shook his finger again, and burst out once more. "But only a little ! I sought her all over I advertised—yet I heard nothing. Nothing at all, until the day that that devil, that wolf, that scoundrel was murdered. That day I happened to be in Bond Street-I saw him come out of some shop or other with her! They saw me—they ignored me-she, my flesh and blood ! They refused to know me—they drove away. Then I comprehended, and went more mad than ever, but not quite. I saw now who had robbed me of my ewe-lamb. Once or twice he had come to my house and had seen and coveted her.” “Father— father!” said Miss Berridge, seeing the old man almost inarticulate with rage. “Say no more, Father ! We understand.” "Hands off !” cried Berridge. “I tell you will speak! I went that night to his house to get at the truth to choke it out of him if need be, for I had the strength of many men. I let myself in-I went up the stairs- I gained his The light was full on—he was lying there dead-stretched across the hearth-rug, stabbed -dead! I saw his blood. Before I could have my revenge-mine! Ah, if I could only have tortured him before he died !" I room. FOR VENGEANCE 247 Then he sank down on a chair, groaning and sobbing, and Inspector Dwayne, leaving his daughter to attend to him, went out. more certain than ever now that the old man had killed Bartenstein in a fit of vengeance, and had partly lost his reason. He was CHAPTER V THE HOUSE IN ST. JOHN'S WOOD Of all people most concerned in this final stage of what had seemed to him a most extraordinary mystery, Inspector Dwayne felt most pity for Anthony Berridge's daughter. He had been quite sure, when he and Mitchell visited the house in Dermiston Road, that hers was a life of great sorrow, and he saw now that she had had more trouble to bear than she had given them any idea of. And with the charitable intention of doing anything that he could to help her, or, at least, of giving her a soothing word, he waited until she left her father. It was not long before she came away from the old man, and she looked very sad and cast down. Inspector Dwayne beckoned her into a quiet room. “You mustn't take on too much, Miss Ber- ridge,” he said, wishing to reassure her. "He'll have every care taken of him, you may be sure. And, between you and me, I don't think you need fear the worst, for it's my opinion that his—well, that his mind's seriously affected.” Miss Berridge sat down in the chair which he placed for her. She looked at him anxiously. 248 252 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE So that the real truth about the Bartenstein case may be known, and this matter be at an end, will Inspector Dwayne come to La Certosa, Grove End Road, St. John's Wood, this afternoon at four o'clock, and bring Miss Berridge with him ? The enclosed keys will admit to the garden and house. M. B. “Who gave you this, my lad ?” asked the Inspector. "Lady in a taxi in the Cecil courtyard,” answered the messenger promptly. “Rang up for two of us." “Two of you? Where did she send the other ?” demanded the Inspector. "Dunno, sir ; she sent me off first,” replied the lad. “All right,” said the Inspector. He took the keys and the note into the room where Miss Berridge awaited him, and laid the note before her. “Do you know whose handwriting that is ?” he asked her. Miss Berridge started. “Oh yes !” she exclaimed. “It is my sister's -Mabel's. Oh, Mr. Dwayne, what does this mean ?" “Don't know," said the Inspector, looking at his watch. “But I shall most certainly go there and find out. And you must come with me. It's getting on to three now, Miss Berridge- let me take you to get a little lunch or a cup of tea, and then we'll drive up there. And I wonder," he thought as he led his charge out, HOUSE IN ST. JOHN'S WOOD 253 “I wonder what we're going to hear when we get there !" An hour later Inspector Dwayne and Miss Berridge alighted from a taxi-cab‘at the bottom of Grove End Road and walked along, looking for La Certosa, and they had not proceeded very far when a hansom came up alongside them and stopped. From it descended Lieutenant Lauder- dale ; inside it they saw Miss Oxenham, looking somewhat anxious and concerned. “Good afternoon, Inspector,” said Lauderdale. “Had you any knowledge that you were to meet Miss Oxenham and myself here?” The Inspector was as much surprised as he had been when Lauderdale walked into his room at Scotland Yard. “Knowledge, sir ? No, sir !” he answered. "I am a good deal puzzled myself as to why I am here. What brought you here ?" "This,” replied Lauderdale, handing him a note, written, like the Inspector's summons, on a sheet of Hotel Cecil paper. “It was delivered at Sir Nicholas Oxenham's about an hour ago.” Inspector Dwayne read this communication over. It simply said i Will Lieutenant Lauderdale and Miss Oxenham kindly meet Inspector Dwayne in Grove End Road, St. John's Wood, a little before four o'clock this afternoon ? And it was in the handwriting which Miss 254 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE con- Berridge identified as her sister's. The Inspector handed it back. “We didn't know what to do," remarked Lauderdale, “but we thought we had better come. Sounds very mysterious, don't you think ?" “We'll soon solve the mystery, sir, for here is the house," answered the Inspector. “Now, I think you ladies had better remain outside while the Lieutenant and I just find out why we were brought here. Miss Oxenham, this lady is Miss Berridge, the daughter of the poor old gentleman who .. : . . you understand," cluded the Inspector with a meaning look. “Now, sir, you come with me." He admitted Lauderdale and himself with one of the keys ; they entered and passed through a quiet garden, tastefully and prettily kept, and in another minute were within the house. In the hall the Inspector gave his companion a brief account of what had been told him by old Berridge and his daughter, and of the note which had reached him with the keys “And here we are, and why, I don't know, sir,” he said ; "but-we're going to learn some- thing, you mark my words." They looked into the various rooms on the ground floor-beautifully appointed rooms which were silent and empty. “It's an uncanny quietness,” whispered the Inspector. "I don't like it. Let's go upstairs.” Lauderdale did not like it either, but he HOUSE IN St. John's WOOD 255 followed Inspector Dwayne up the softly car- peted staircase. The Inspector made for the room overlooking the garden. He opened the door, looked in, gave one glance at the interior, and turned a warning face to his companion. “Pull yourself together, sir !” he whispered. “She's here--and I'm afraid she's dead !” A moment later and the two men stood looking down on the still face of a beautiful She had dressed herself all in white, and had placed flowers on either side of her, and her face was peaceful. She looked, indeed, as if she had fallen asleep. Her hands were clasped across her bosom, and near them lay a paper, written over, which Inspector Dwayne presently took up and read, holding it so that his companion could also read. The words were few : woman. This is the only end that could be. My father is quite innocent, and the one reparation I can make him is to tell the truth and go. I am glad to go. It was I who killed Marcus Bartenstein. He told me, quite suddenly that day, that what I had believed until then—that I was his wife—was not so, and that he was going to marry a girl with whom he had long been in love. After that I think I went mad. Yet I know how calm and, eventually, determined I was. It was very easy to do. I had a key of the turret door, and I was hidden behind the curtain when he came in with Mr. Lauderdale. If he had said then that he should pursue that marriage no further I might 256 THE BARTENSTEIN CASE have relented. But he let Mr. Lauderdale see by his manner that he meant to have his way. I knew him. After Mr. Lauderdale had gone he took out the girl's portrait and looked at it and laughed. That decided me. He sat down at his desk to write. His back was towards me. It was easy, so easy, to do it. That is all. Ask my father and my sister to forgive me--and to forget me. Inspector Dwayne drew Lauderdale out of the room. “This is no place for your young lady, sir,” he said in a hushed voice. "Ask Miss Berridge to come inside, and then take Miss Oxenham away. Lauderdale crossed the garden and delivered his message with a whispered word of preparation to the already stricken woman. Then he re-entered the hansom and bade the man go back to Sussex Square. “Oh, Jack," cried Millicent as they drove off, "what is it? What brought us here? Is there more mystery--more trouble ?" Lauderdale took her hand in his. “No, dear,” he answered tenderly, thinking of what he had just seen. “The mystery and the trouble's all over now !" THE END 產 ​ heleELTIOье Б89011732724а