THE 
 
 LSTRD 
 
 THE 
 GRILL 
 
 MYSTERY
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 CHIP. 1IMUfir>
 
 THE 
 
 MAELSTROM 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK FROEST 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 THE GRELL MYSTERY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPTHIOHT, 1010, BT 
 
 FRANK FBOBST 
 
 COPTRIOHT, 1916, BT 
 
 BDWABD J. CLODB
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 2129530
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 HALLETT blundered into an unlit lamp-post, swore with 
 fervour, and stood for a second peering for some iden- 
 tifiable landmark in the black blanket of fog that muf- 
 fled the street. Where he stood, a sluggish dense drift 
 had collected, for following the treacherous habit of 
 London fogs, it lay in patches. About him he could 
 hear ghostly noises of traffic muffled and as from afar, 
 but whether the sounds came from before or behind, 
 from right or left, was more than his bewildered senses 
 could fathom. 
 
 For the last ten minutes he had been walking in a 
 spectral city among spectres. A by-street had trapped 
 him and no single wayfarer had come within his lim- 
 ited area of sight. He lifted his hat and rubbed his 
 head perplexedly as he came to the conclusion that he 
 was lost. It was as though London had set out to 
 teach the young man from New York a lesson. The 
 fog had him beat. 
 
 " Guess I shall fetch somewhere, sometime," he mut- 
 tered and strode doggedly on. 
 
 He had gone perhaps a dozen yards when from 
 ahead a quick burst of angry voices broke out. Then 
 there came a running of feet on the sodden pavement. 
 Hallett came to a stop, listening. The fog seemed to 
 thin a trifle. 
 
 [1]
 
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 Out of the thickness the outlines of a woman's figure 
 loomed vaguely. She was running swiftly and easily 
 with lithe grace. As she noted the motionless figure 
 of a man, she swerved towards him and he caught the 
 hurried pant of her breath caused rather, he judged, 
 by emotion than by exertion. She halted impetuously 
 as she came opposite to him and he caught a glimpse 
 of her face the mobile face of a girl, with parted lips 
 and arresting blue eyes. She was hatless, and though 
 Hallett could not have described her attire, he got an 
 impression of some soft black stuff, clinging to a slim 
 figure. She surveyed him in a quick, appraising glance, 
 and before he could speak had thrust something into 
 his hand. 
 
 " Take it run," she gasped, and tore forward into 
 the fog. 
 
 It had all happened in a fraction of time. She 
 had checked rather than halted in her flight. An ex- 
 clamation burst from Hallett's lips, and he was almost 
 startled into obedience of the hurried command. Then 
 heavier footsteps thudding near brought him to him- 
 self. He moved to interrupt the pursuer. As a man 
 came into view, Hallett's hand fell on his shoulder. 
 
 " One moment, my friend " 
 
 An oath was spat at him as the man wrenched him- 
 self free and was blotted out in gloom. Hallett 
 shrugged his shoulders philosophically, and made no 
 attempt at pursuit.
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " Alarums and excursions," he murmured. " Won- 
 der what it's all about? " 
 
 In nine and twenty years of life Jimmie Hallett had 
 acquired something of a philosophy that made him con- 
 tent to accept things as they were, save only when they 
 affected his personal well-being. Then he would sit 
 up and kick with both feet. His lack of curiosity was 
 almost cold-blooded. There was indeed a certain inof- 
 fensive arrogance in his attitude towards the ordinary 
 affairs of life. He was the sort of man who would not 
 cross the road to see a dog-fight. 
 
 Yet he always had a zest for excitement, providing 
 it had novelty. A man who has scrambled for a dozen 
 years in a hotch-potch of vocations retains little en- 
 thusiasm for commonplaces. When Hallett Senior 
 had gone out from the combined effects of a Wall Street 
 cyclone and an attack of heart failure, his son and heir 
 had found himself with a hundred thousand dollars less 
 than nothing. Young Hallett went to his only surviv- 
 ing relative an elderly uncle with a liver and with 
 the confidence of youth rejected the offer of a cheap 
 stool in that millionaire's office. He believed he could 
 get a living as an actor but a five weeks' tour in a 
 fortieth-rate company, which finally stranded in the 
 wilds of Michigan convinced him of the futility of that 
 idea. Thereafter he drifted over a wide area of the 
 United States. Farm-hand, railwayman, cow-puncher, 
 prospector, and one very vivid voyage as a deck-hand 
 
 [3]
 
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 on a cattle boat. It was inevitable that of course he 
 should eventually drift into that last refuge of the un- 
 skilled intellectual classes journalism. Equally of 
 course it was inevitable that fate, who delights to take 
 a hand at unexpected moments, should interfere when 
 he showed signs of making a mark in his profession. 
 His uncle died intestate and Jimmie leapt at a bound 
 to affluence beyond his wildest dreams. 
 
 He had stayed long enough in New York after that 
 to realise how extensive and variegated were the ac- 
 quaintances who had stood by him in adversity. They 
 took pains that he should not forget it. And forthwith 
 he had taken counsel of Sleath, the youthful-looking 
 city editor of The Wire, who breathed words of wisdom 
 in his ear. 
 
 " Go to Europe, Jimmie. Travel and improve your 
 mind. Let the sharks forget you." 
 
 So Jimmie Hallett stood lost in a fog, somewhere 
 within hail of Piccadilly Circus, with an unopened pack- 
 age in his hand and the memory of a girl's voice in his 
 mind. A less observant man than Hallett could not 
 have failed to perceive that the girl was of a class un- 
 likely to be involved in any street broil. The man 
 flattered himself that he was not impressionable. But 
 he retained an impression of both breeding and looks. 
 
 He dangled the package it was small and light 
 on his finger, and moved forward till an electric 
 standard gave him an opportunity of examining it more 
 
 [4]
 
 closely. It was closely sealed at both ends with red 
 sealing wax, but the wrapping itself had apparently 
 been torn from an ordinary newspaper. He hesitated 
 for a moment and then tore it open. He could scarcely 
 have told what he expected to find. Certainly not the 
 thirty or forty cheques that lay in his hand. One by 
 one he turned them slowly over, as though the inspec- 
 tion would afford some indication of why they had been 
 so unexpectedly thrust upon him. A bare possibility 
 that he had been made an unwitting accomplice in a 
 theft was dismissed as he noticed that the cheques were 
 dead they all bore the cancelling mark of the bank. 
 Why on earth should the girl have been running away 
 with the useless cheques? And why should she have 
 so impulsively confided them to a stranger to avoid them 
 falling into the hands of her headlong pursuer? 
 
 Not that Hallett would have worried overmuch about 
 these problems had the central figure been plain or 
 commonplace. She had interested him, and his interest, 
 once aroused in any person or thing, was always vivid. 
 
 Keen-eyed, he scrutinised the cheques, in an endeavour 
 to decipher the signature. They were all made out by 
 the same person, and payable to " self." The name 
 he read as J. E. Greye-Stratton. Whoever J. E. Greye- 
 Stratton was he had drawn within three months, in 
 turns ranging from fifty to three hundred pounds, an 
 amount totalling Hallett reckoned in United States 
 terms more than fifteen thousand dollars. 
 
 [5]
 
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 He stuffed the cheques into his pocket as an idea 
 materialised in his mind. An opportune taxi pushed 
 its nose stealthily through the wall of fog and halted 
 at his hail. 
 
 " Think you can fetch a post-office, sonny? " he de- 
 manded. 
 
 " Get you anywhere, sir," assented the driver cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 " Find your way by the stars, I suppose," com- 
 mented Hallett, the tingle of fog still in his eyes. 
 
 Nevertheless, the driver justified his boast and his 
 fare was shortly engrossed with the letter " G " in the 
 London directory. There was only one entry of the 
 name he sought, and he swiftly transcribed the address 
 to a telegraph blank. 
 
 " Greye-Stratton, James Edward, Thirty-four, Lin- 
 stone Terrace Gardens, Kensington, W." 
 
 Shortly the cab was again crawling through the fog, 
 sounding its syren like a liner in mid-channel. All that 
 the passenger could make out was a hazy world, dotted 
 with faint yellow specks, which now and again trans- 
 formed themselves into lights as they drew near them. 
 Later the yellow specks grew less as they swerved off the 
 main road, and in a little while the car drew to a halt. 
 
 The driver indicated the house opposite which they 
 were standing, with a jerk of his thumb, as Hallett 
 descended. 
 
 " That's the place, sir." 
 
 [6]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 It was little that Hallett could see of the house, save 
 that it was a big old-fashioned building, with heavy 
 bow-windows, and a basement, protected by wrought- 
 iron rails. There was no light in any part of the 
 house, not even the hall. Twice the young man wielded 
 the big brass knocker, arousing nothing apparently but 
 an echo. As he raised it a third time, the door was 
 thrown open with disconcerting suddenness, and he was 
 aware of someone standing within the blackness of 
 the hall. Hallett could distinguish nothing of his 
 features. 
 
 " I wish to see Mr. Greye-Stratton," said Hallett, 
 and tendered a card. 
 
 The other made no attempt to take it. " He won't 
 see you," he declared with harsh abruptness, and only 
 a sudden movement of Hallett's foot prevented the door 
 being slammed in his face. 
 
 His teeth gritted together, and he thrust the door 
 back and himself over the lintel. He was an easy- 
 tempered man, but the deliberate discourtesy had 
 roused him to a cold anger. " That will do, my man," 
 he said, clipping off each word sharply. " I want ordi- 
 nary civility, and I'm going to see that I get it. My 
 name is Hallett James Hallett, of New York. Now 
 you go and tell your master that I want to see him 
 about certain property of his that has come into my 
 hands. Quick's the word." 
 
 There was a pause. When the man in the hall spoke 
 
 [7]
 
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 again his tone had changed. " I beg your pardon, Mr. 
 Hallett. It is dark I mistook you for someone else. I 
 am sure Mr. Greye-Stratton would have been happy 
 to see you, but unfortunately he is ill. If you will leave 
 whatever you have, I will see that it reaches him. By 
 the way, I am not a servant, I am a doctor. Gore is 
 my name." 
 
 Hallett thrust his hand in the pocket that contained 
 the cheques. He had no intention of handing them over 
 without some information about the girl in black. And 
 he fancied he detected a note of anxiety in the doctor's 
 voice, as though, while forced in a way to civility, he 
 was anxious for the visitor to go. 
 
 " I quite understand, Dr. Gore," he said coldly, " I 
 will call at some other time. I should like to return 
 the property to its owner in person for a special rea- 
 son. Good-night." 
 
 " Then you will not entrust whatever you have to 
 me?" 
 
 " I would rather see Mr. Greye-Stratton at some 
 future time." He half turned to go. 
 
 " One moment." The doctor laid a detaining hand 
 upon his sleeve. " I did not wish to disturb my patient 
 unnecessarily, but if you insist I will arrange you shall 
 see him. Will you come with me? I am afraid it is 
 rather dark. The electric light has gone wrong 
 frightfully awkward." 
 
 Hallett groped his way after his guide, his brain 
 [8]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 busy. It was queer that the light should have given 
 out queerer still that no apparent attempt had been 
 made at illumination, either with oil or candles. The 
 place was deadly quiet, but that was only natural with 
 a sick man in the house. He wondered why some 
 servant had not answered the door. A man of less 
 hardened temperament would have felt nervous. 
 
 The doctor's footsteps falling with ghostly softness 
 on the carpet in front of him ceased. 
 
 " Here we are, Mr. Hallett. Keep to your left. 
 This is the room. If you will wait here a second, I 
 will see if I can get a light. Where are you? Give 
 me your hand." 
 
 Slim delicate fingers gripped Hallett's hand as he 
 followed the direction. He passed through a doorway 
 and for a moment his back was turned towards the 
 doctor. He heard something whirl in the air and a 
 blow descended with crushing force on his right shoul- 
 der. He wheeled with a cry, but there was no question 
 of resistance. A second blow fell, this time better 
 directed, and a million stars danced before his eyes. He 
 dropped like a felled ox. 
 
 [9]
 
 CHAPTER H 
 
 PUNCTUALLY at half-past six, the little plated alarm 
 clock exploded and Weir Menzies kicked off the blankets. 
 Punctually at seven o'clock he had breakfast. Punctu- 
 ally at half-past seven he delved and weeded in the 
 square patch of ground that was the envy and despair 
 of Magersfontein Road, Upper Tooting. Punctually at 
 twenty-past eight he left his semi-detached house and 
 boarded a car for Westminster Bridge. 
 
 There were occasions when the routine was upset, 
 but it will be observed that on the whole Weir Menzies 
 was a creature of habit. He had all that respect for 
 order and method that has made Upper Tooting what 
 it is. From the heavy gold watch-chain that spanned 
 his ample waist, to his rubicund face and heavy black 
 moustache, he wore Tooting respectability all over him. 
 It was a cause of poignant regret to him that circum- 
 stance prevented him taking any part in the local gov- 
 ernment of the borough. Nevertheless, he belonged to 
 the local constitutional club, and was the highly es- 
 teemed people's warden at the Church of All Saints. 
 The acute observer, knowing all this, might have judged 
 him a deserving wholesale ironmonger. 
 
 And the acute observer would have been wrong. 
 
 Punctually at half-past nine, Weir Menzies would 
 pass up a flight of narrow stone stairs at the back of 
 
 [10]
 
 New Scotland Yard into the chief inspector's room of the 
 Criminal Investigation Department. From his button- 
 hole he would take the choice blossom gathered that 
 day at Magersfontein Road, Upper Tooting place it 
 carefully in a freshly-filled vase, exchange his well- 
 brushed morning coat for a jacket of alpaca, place paper 
 protectors on his cuffs, and settle down on his high stool 
 he preferred a high stool to half an hour's corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 Mr. Weir Menzies, churchwarden of Upper Tooting, 
 was in fact Chief Detective Inspector Menzies of the 
 Criminal Investigation Department, New Scotland 
 Yard. Not that he made any secret of it. There was 
 no reason why he should. It is only on rare occasions 
 that a detective needs to conceal his profession. 
 
 Although the residents of Magersfontein Road, Upper 
 Tooting, knew that Mr. Weir Menzies was an admira- 
 ble churchwarden, they had to take his reputation as 
 a detective on trust. And being constant subscribers 
 to circulating libraries, they knew him as an innocent 
 fraud. A man something over forty, with an increasing* 
 waist-line and a ruddy face, was obviously against the 
 rules of all the established authorities. It was only 
 understandable because he was at Scotland Yard. 
 Everyone knows that official detectives are heavy, dull, 
 unimaginative fellows, always out of their depths, and 
 continually receiving the good-natured assistance of 
 amateurs, by whom they are held in tolerant contempt. 
 
 [11]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Magersfontein Road, Upper Tooting, would have 
 smiled broadly had anyone remarked that Chief De- 
 tective Inspector Menzies held an international reputa- 
 tion that he was held one of the subtlest brains in the 
 service; that he was a man who had time and again 
 shown reckless courage and audacity in bringing off a 
 coup ; that he, in short, had individuality and a perfect 
 knowledge of every resource at his disposal in carrying, 
 out any purpose to which he was assigned. 
 
 He looked a commonplace business man; he was a 
 commonplace business man with many of the traits of 
 his class. He hated the unexpected and protested that 
 he loathed with a fierce abomination those cases in 
 which he was engaged that meant a departure from the 
 ordinary routine. But yet those cases, when they 
 arose, there was no man more capable of dealing with 
 their baffling intricacies than he. He had a faculty of 
 adjusting himself to an emergency, of ruthlessly dis- 
 carding the superfluous that in twenty-three years had 
 carried him to within one rung of the top of the ladder. 
 
 It was shortly before midnight. He had returned 
 from a remote suburb where with a corps of assistants 
 he had made an entirely successful raid upon certain 
 pickpockets, who had been too well acquainted with the 
 resident detectives to give them any chance. It had been 
 a triumph of organisation and vigilance, and Menzies 
 had gone back to headquarters to arrange that the his- 
 tories of the birds he had caged should be ready before
 
 the police court proceedings in the morning. He was 
 struggling into his overcoat when he was summoned to 
 the telephone. He picked up the receiver irritably. 
 
 " Hello," he said. 
 
 A musical buzz answered him, and Menzies allowed 
 himself an expression that should be foreign to a 
 churchwarden. Then far away and faint he caught a 
 voice. " That Mr. Menzies ? " 
 
 " Yes," he answered impatiently. " Speak up. Who 
 is it? What do you want? " 
 
 A prolonged buzz reached him. He was conscious of 
 someone speaking, but only intermittently could he 
 hear what was said. 
 
 " Pretty done up buz-z come at once buz-z at 
 thirty-four buzz-z Gardens, Kensington buzz-z." 
 
 " Number, please? " said a new and distinct voice. 
 
 " Blast," said Menzies simply, and put down the tele- 
 phone. This addiction to forcible language on occa- 
 sions of annoyance was a constant regret to him in his 
 more reflective moments. 
 
 Jimmie Hallett's first impression on awakening had 
 been that someone was swinging a sledge-hammer ir- 
 regularly on to his temples. He lay still for a little, 
 wondering why it should be. By and by he sat up and 
 tried to piece together the events of the evening. His 
 head ached intolerably, and he found consecutive 
 thought painful. 
 
 [13]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 It was totally dark, and he could make out nothing 
 of where he was. Then the whole thing flashed across 
 his mind and he staggered rather uncertainly to hifl 
 feet and, steadying himself against the wall, struck a 
 match. 
 
 The feeble nicker showed him a blue papered apart- 
 ment, furnished as a dining-room. He had been lying 
 just inside the door, which he now tried. It refused 
 to answer to his tug, and he realised how weak he was 
 as he all but toppled backwards. The match went out 
 and he struck another. 
 
 Then it was that he noticed an electric switch and 
 pulled it over. A rush of light flooded the room and 
 he tottered to one of the Jacobean armchairs at the 
 head of the table. The sledge-hammer was still swing- 
 ing at his temples and things swayed dizzily to and 
 fro before his eyes. He made a resolute effort to pull 
 himself together. His eyes roved over the room, and 
 he noticed a pedestal telephone on a small table in the 
 corner furthest from him. 
 
 " What was the name of the chap Pinkerton gave 
 me an introduction to," he muttered, and drawing a 
 bundle of papers from his breast pocket, sorted them 
 till the envelope he needed lay at the top. 
 
 Chief Detective Inspector Weir Menzies* 
 New Scotland Yard, S. W. 
 
 [14]
 
 Cautiously the man began to move across the hearth- 
 rug towards the telephone. Four shambling steps he 
 took, then something that had been hidden by the table 
 tripped him and he sprawled on all fours. He gave 
 a little gasp of horror, and steadying himself on his 
 knees, held his hands a foot in front of his face, gazing 
 at them stupidly. They were wet wet with blood, 
 and the thing that had tripped him was the body of 
 a man. 
 
 It is one thing to be brought in association at second- 
 hand, so to speak, with a crime, as are doctors, re- 
 porters, and detectives, but quite another to be so 
 closely identified with it as to be an actor in the drama. 
 Hallett had seen violence, and even death in his time, 
 but never had cold horror so thrilled him as it did now. 
 In ordinary condition, with nerves previously unshaken, 
 he would have been little more moved than a spectator 
 at a play perhaps even less so, for real life tragedies 
 are rarely well stage managed. 
 
 Circumstances, however, had conspired to bring home 
 to him the last touch of terror. The sudden assault, 
 the locked room, and now the dead man, had played 
 the mischief with his nerves. He could have shrieked 
 aloud. 
 
 He wiped his hands on his handkerchief, but the stain 
 still remained. Carefully he stepped over the body 
 and made his way to the telephone. His imagination 
 was beginning to work, and he recalled cases where per- 
 
 [15]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 fectly innocent men had been the victims of circum- 
 stantial evidence that had convicted them of hideous 
 crimes. The story of the cheques thrust upon him in 
 the fog seemed to him ridiculously unconvincing. Had 
 his mind been less overwrought, had he been able to 
 take a calmer survey of the matter, he would probably 
 never have given his own position a thought. He fin- 
 gered the telephone book clumsily and his mind reverted 
 to the coincidence that he should hold a letter of intro- 
 duction to one of the senior detectives of Scotland 
 Yard. 
 
 " Queer that it should come in so handy," he- grinned 
 feebly, and then weakness overcame him, 
 
 He gave the number. Hours seemed to elapse before 
 he got Menzies. In a quick rush of words he made him- 
 self known to the detective and recited the happenings 
 of the evening. He did not know that barely a dozen 
 disconnected words had reached him. His strength was 
 waning and he wanted Menzies to know everything be- 
 fore he gave way. As he finished the receiver dropped 
 listlessly from his hand, and for the first time in his 
 life Jimmie Hallett fainted. 
 
 At the other end of the wire Weir Menzies was left 
 with one of those harassing little problems that he 
 hated. It was an irregular hour an hour when, he 
 had reckoned on being safely on his way home. For 
 all the insistence of the voice at the telephone, it might 
 be. quite a trivial affair. Menzies did not like losing 
 
 [16]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 sleep for trivialities. People in trouble are apt to take 
 distorted views of the importance of their difficulties. 
 That is why private enquiry agencies flourish. 
 
 He was impatient with ambiguous messages. He 
 thought of his well-aired bed and sighed. But the fact 
 that he had been appealed to by name ultimately swayed 
 him. 
 
 In two minutes he had set in motion the machinery 
 which would reveal the point from which the voice orig- 
 inated. It needed no complex reasoning, no swift flash 
 of inspiration: merely to look up in the Kensington 
 directory a list of thoroughfares ending in " Gardens," 
 and the names of persons who resided at the respective 
 thirty-fours. 
 
 " And get a move on," he said to one of his men. " I 
 don't want to hang about all night. Ask Riddle to 
 come up and 'phone 'em through to the local people as 
 you check 'em off. Tell 'em they'll oblige me by send- 
 ing out as many spare men as they've got to ask at 
 each address if anyone rang me up." 
 
 He adjusted his coat with precision, lit a cigar, and 
 sauntered over to the underground station opposite. 
 Barring accidents, the address would be ready for him 
 by the time he reached Kensington. 
 
 He was not disappointed. One of the advantages 
 which the Criminal Investigation Department has over 
 the individual amateur detective, beloved by Magers- 
 fontein Road, is the co-operation at need of a prac-
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 tically unlimited number of trained men. True, the de- 
 tective staff at Kensington had long since gone home, 
 since there was no extraordinary business to detain 
 them, but in this case a dozen ordinary constables 
 served as well. Nine of them had returned when Men- 
 zies walked in. There was only one who interested him. 
 He had reported that he could get no reply from Lin- 
 stone Terrace Gardens. 
 
 " Did you find who lives there? " questioned the chief 
 inspector. 
 
 The reply was prompt. " Yes, sir. Old gentleman 
 named Greye-Stratton. He lives alone. Had two 
 servants until last week, when he sacked 'em both be- 
 cause he said they had been bribed to poison him." 
 
 " Ah ! " Menzies nodded approval. " You've got 
 your wits about you, my lad. Where did you get all 
 this from? " 
 
 The constable flushed with pleasure. He was young 
 enough in the force to appreciate a compliment from 
 the veteran detective. " The servant next door, sir," 
 he answered. 
 
 " That will do. Thank you." Menzies rubbed his 
 hands with satisfaction as he turned to the uniformed 
 inspector by his side. " It begins to sound like a case," 
 he muttered. All his petulance had gone. When it 
 came to the point, the man was an enthusiast in his 
 profession. " I'll get you to come along with me, 
 inspector. It sounds uncommonly like a case." 
 
 [18]
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE eminent Tooting churchwarden, perched on the 
 stalwart shoulders of his uniformed colleague, wriggled 
 his way on to the roof of the porch with an agility that 
 was justifiable neither to his years nor his weight. He 
 was taking a certain amount of risk, if there were no 
 serious emergency within the place, for even a chief 
 detective inspector may not break into a house without 
 justification. 
 
 He worked for a while with a big clasp knife on the 
 little landing window, with a skill that would have done 
 credit to many of the professional practitioners who had 
 passed through his hands, and at last threw up the sash 
 and squeezed himself inside. 
 
 " Wonder if I'm making a damned fool of myself, 
 after all?" he muttered with some misgiving as he 
 struck a match and softly picked his way along the cor- 
 ridor. He was peculiarly sensitive to ridicule, and he 
 knew the chaff that would descend on his head if it 
 leaked out that he had elaborately picked out and 
 broken into an empty house. 
 
 There would be no way of keeping the matter dark, 
 for every incident of the night would have to be em- 
 bodied in reports. Every detective in London keeps an 
 official diary of his work. 
 
 He burned only one match to enable him to get his 
 
 [19]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 bearings. Noiselessly he descended the stairs into the 
 hall, and his quick eye observed a splash of light across 
 the floor. It came from under a doorway. He turned 
 the handle and pushed. The door resisted. 
 
 " Locked," he murmured, and knocked thunderously. 
 " Hello in there ! Anyone about ? " 
 
 Only the muffled reverberation of his own voice came 
 back to him. Frowning, he strode to the doorway, 
 slipped back the Yale lock, and admitted the uniformed 
 man. 
 
 " If I had nerves, Mr. Hawksley, this place would 
 give me the jumps," he observed. " There's something 
 wrong here and I guess it's in that room. See, there's 
 a light on." 
 
 " That's queer," commented the other. " It could 
 only just have been switched on. I didn't notice it out- 
 side." 
 
 " Shutters," said Menzies. " Shutters and drawn 
 curtains. Come on. I'm going to see what's behind that 
 door." 
 
 There was no finesse about forcible entry this time. 
 Half a dozen well-directed kicks shattered the hasp of 
 the lock and sent the door flying open. Menzies and 
 his companion moved inside. 
 
 For the moment the blaze of the electric light dazzled 
 them. Menzies shaded his eyes with his hand. Then 
 his glance fell from the overturned telephone down to 
 the prostrate figure of Jimmie Hallett. He was across 
 
 [20]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 the room in an instant, and made swift examination of 
 the prostrate man. 
 
 " Knocked clean out of time," he diagnosed. " Help 
 me get him on the couch. Hello, there's another of 
 'em." He had observed the body on the hearth-rug. 
 
 He bent over the murdered man in close scrutiny but 
 without touching the corpse. His lips pursed into a 
 whistle as he marked the bullet wound that showed 
 among the grey locks at the back of the head. He 
 was startled but scarcely shocked. 
 
 He straightened himself up. " This looks a queer 
 business altogether, Hawksley. You'd better get back 
 to the station. Send up the divisional surgeon and 
 'phone through to the Yard. They'd better let Sir 
 Hilary Thornton and Mr. Foyle know. I shall need 
 Congreve and a couple of men, and you'd better send 
 for Carless and as many of his staff as can be reached 
 quickly. They'll know the district." 
 
 The faculty of quick organisation is one of the prime 
 qualities of a chief of detectives, and Menzies was at no 
 loss. The first step in the investigation of most great 
 mysteries is automatic the determination of the facts. 
 It is a kind of circle from facts to possibilities, from 
 possibilities to probabilities, and from probabilities to 
 facts. But the original facts must be settled first, and 
 for any one person to fix them single-handed is an im- 
 possibility. 
 
 There are certain aspects that must be settled by
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 specialists; there may be a thousand and one enquiries 
 to make in rapid succession. Menzies had no idea of 
 playing a lone hand. 
 
 For a couple of hours a steady stream of officials and 
 others descended on the house, and Linstone Terrace 
 Gardens became the centre of such police activity as it 
 had never dreamed would affect its austere respecta- 
 bility. 
 
 Men worked from house to house, interviewing 
 servants, masters, mistresses, gleaning such facts as 
 could be obtained of the lonely, eccentric old man, his 
 habits, his visitors, friends, and relations. Inside the 
 house the divisional surgeon had attended to Hallett 
 (" No serious injury. May come round any moment "), 
 and waited till flash-light photographs of the room had 
 been taken from various angles ere examining the dead 
 man. Draughtsmen made plans to scale of the room 
 and every article in it. A finger-print expert peered 
 round searchingly, scattering black or grey powder on 
 things which the murderer might have touched. In the 
 topmost rooms Congreve, Menzies' right-hand man, had 
 begun a hasty search of the house that would become 
 more minute the next day. 
 
 Menzies occupied a morning room at the back of 
 the house and was deep in consultation with Sir Hilary 
 Thornton, the grizzled assistant commissioner, and 
 Heldon Foyle, the square-shouldered, well-groomed su- 
 perintendent of the Criminal Investigation Department. 
 
 [22]
 
 There was little likeness between the three men, unless 
 it lay in a certain hint of humour in the eyes and a 
 firmness of the mouth. A detective without a sense of 
 humour is lost. 
 
 Now and again Menzies broke off the conversation to 
 issue an order or receive a report. Thornton observed 
 for the first time the characters in which he made a few 
 notes on the back of an envelope. 
 
 " I didn't know you knew Greek, Menzies," he re- 
 marked. 
 
 The chief inspector twiddled his pencil awkwardly. 
 "I use it now and again, Sir Hilary. You see, if I 
 should lose my notes by any chance it's odds against the 
 finder reading them. I used to do them in shorthand, 
 but I gave it up. There are too many people who un- 
 derstand it. Yes, what is it, Johnson? " 
 
 The man who had entered held out a paper. " Ad- 
 dresses of the cook and housemaid, sir. One lives at 
 Potters Bar, the other at Walthamstow." 
 
 " Have them fetched by taxi," ordered Menzies 
 curtly. 
 
 "Couldn't you have statements taken from them?" 
 asked Hilary mildly. " It's rather a drag for women in 
 the middle of the night." 
 
 Menzies smoothed his moustache. " We don't know 
 what may develop here, sir. We may want to put some 
 questions quickly." 
 
 While thus Menzies was straining every resource 
 [23]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 which a great organisation possessed to gather together 
 into his hands the ends of the case, Jimmie Hallett 
 awoke once more. The throbbing in his head had gone 
 and he lay for a while with closed eyes, listlessly con- 
 scious of the mutter of low voices in the room. 
 
 He sat up, and at once a dapper little man was by 
 his side. " Ah, you've woke up. Feeling better? 
 That's right. Drink this. We want you to pull your- 
 self together for a little while." 
 
 " Thanks. I'm all right," returned Hallett mechan- 
 ically. He drank something which the other held out 
 to him in a tumbler, and a rush of new life thrilled 
 through him. " Are you Mr. Menzies ? " 
 
 " No, I'm the police divisional surgeon. Mr. Men- 
 zies is in the next room. Think you're up to telling 
 him what has happened? He's anxious to know the 
 meaning of all this." 
 
 " So am I," said Hallett grimly, and staggered to his 
 feet. " Just a trifle groggy," he added as he swayed, 
 and the little doctor thrust a supporting shoulder under 
 his arm. 
 
 The three in the next room rose as Hallett 
 was ushered in. It was Foyle who sprang to assist 
 Hallett and lifted him bodily on to the settee, which 
 Menzies pushed under the chandelier. The doctor went 
 out. 
 
 "Quite comfortable, eh?" asked Foyle. "Let me 
 make that cushion a bit easier for you. Now you're 
 
 [24]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 better. We won't worry you at present more than we 
 can help, will we, Menzies? " 
 
 The three great detectives, for all that their solici- 
 tude seemed solely for the comfort of the young man, 
 were studying him keenly and unobtrusively. Already 
 they had talked him over, but any suspicions that they 
 might have held were quite indefinite. At the opening 
 stage of a murder investigation everyone is suspected. 
 In that lies the difference between murder and profes- 
 sional crime. A burglary, a forgery, is usually com- 
 mitted for one fixed motive by a fixed class of criminal, 
 and the search is narrowed from the start. A million- 
 aire does not pick pockets, but he is quite as likely as 
 anyone else to kill an enemy. In a murder case, no de- 
 tective would say positively that any person is innocent 
 until he is absolutely certain of the guilt of the real 
 murderer. 
 
 Hallett, whose brain was beginning to work swiftly, 
 held out his hand to the chief inspector. " Pleased to 
 meet you, Mr. Menzies. I've got a letter of introduction 
 to you from Pinkerton. That's how I came to ring you 
 up. My name's Hallett." 
 
 Menzies shook hands. " Glad to know you, Mr. Hal- 
 lett. This is Sir Hilary Thornton Mr. Heldon 
 Foyle." 
 
 " And now," said Jimmie decisively, when the intro- 
 ductions were done. " Do you people think I killed this 
 man, Greye-Stratton ? " 
 
 [25]
 
 The possibility had been in the minds of everyone in 
 the room, but they were taken aback by the abruptness 
 of the question. Weir Menzies laughed as though the 
 idea were preposterous. 
 
 " Not unless you've swallowed the pistol, Mr. Hal- 
 lett. We've found no weapon of any kind. You were 
 locked in, you know. Now tell us all about it. I 
 couldn't hear a word you said on the telephone." 
 
 They all listened thoughtfully until he had finished. 
 Thornton elevated his eyebrows in question at his two 
 companions as the recital closed. 
 
 " Where are those cheques ? " asked Foyle. " They 
 may help us." 
 
 Hallett patted his pockets in rapid succession. 
 " They're gone ! " he exclaimed. " They must have been 
 taken off me when I was knocked out." 
 
 " H'm," said Foyle reflectively. " Can you make 
 anything of it, Menzies ? " 
 
 The chief inspector was gnawing his moustache a 
 sure sign of bewilderment with him. He shrugged his 
 shoulders. " There's little enough to take hold of," he 
 returned. " Could you recognise any of the people you 
 saw again, Mr. Hallett ? the girl, the man who was run- 
 ning after her, or the chap in the house." 
 
 " I haven't the vaguest idea of what the face of either 
 of the men was like," said Hallett. 
 
 " But the woman the girl? " persisted Menzies. 
 
 Hallett hesitated. " I I think it possible that I 
 
 [26]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 might," he admitted. Then an impulse took him. 
 " But I'm sure she's not the sort of person to be mixed 
 up in in " 
 
 The three detectives smiled openly. " In this kind of 
 she-mozzle you were going to say," finished Menzies. 
 " There's only one flaw in your reasoning. She is." 
 
 Wrung as dry of information as a squeezed sponge, 
 Hallett was permitted to depart. The courtesy of Sir 
 Hilary Thornton supplied him with a motor-car back to 
 his hotel, the forethought of Menzies provided him with 
 an escort in the shape of a detective sergeant. Hallett 
 would have been less pleased had he known that that 
 same mentioned detective sergeant was to be relieved 
 from all other duties for the specific purpose of keeping 1 
 an eye upon him. Weir Menzies was always cautious, 
 and though his own impression of the young man had 
 been favourable enough, he was taking no chances. 
 
 All through that night Weir Menzies drove his allies 
 hither and thither in the attempt to bring the ends of 
 the ravelled threads of mystery into his hand. No one 
 knew better than he the importance of a first hot burst 
 of pursuit. An hour in the initial stages of an investi- 
 gation is worth a week later on. The irritation at being 
 kept out of bed had all vanished now that he was on 
 the warpath. He could think without regret of a com- 
 mittee meeting of the Church Restoration Fund the 
 following day from which he would be forced to absent 
 himself. 
 
 [27]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Scores of messages had been sent over the private 
 telegraph and telephone systems of the Metropolitan 
 Police before, at seven o'clock in the morning, he took 
 a respite. It was to an all-night Turkish bath in the 
 neighbourhood of Piccadilly Circus that he made his 
 way. 
 
 At nine o'clock, spruce and ruddy, showing no trace 
 of his all-night work beyond a slight tightening of the 
 brows, he was in Heldon Foyle's office. The superin- 
 tendent nodded as he came in. 
 
 " You look fine, Menzies. Got your man? " 
 
 The other made a motion of his hand deprecatory of 
 badinage. " Nope," he said. " But I've got a line on 
 him." 
 
 Foyle sat up and adjusted his pince-nez. " The 
 deuce you have. Who is he? " 
 
 " His name is Errol," said Menzies. " He's a prodi- 
 gal stepson of Greye-Stratton, and was pushed out of 
 the country seven years ago." 
 
 " Menzies," said Foyle, laying down his pince-nez. 
 <c You ought to be in a book." 
 
 [28]
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 WEIB, MENZIES fitted his form to the big armchair that 
 flanked Foyle's desk, and dragged a handful of reports 
 secured by an elastic band from his breast pocket. 
 Foyle snipped the end off a cigar and leaning back 
 puffed out a blue cloud of smoke. 
 
 " It's been quick work, though I say it myself," ob- 
 served Menzies complacently, " especially considering 
 it's a night job. This night work is poisonous no 
 way of getting about, no certainty of finding the wit- 
 nesses you want, everyone angry at being dragged out 
 of bed, and all your people knocked out the next day 
 when they ought to be fresh." 
 
 Foyle flicked the ash from his cigar, and a mischievous 
 glimmer shone in his blue eyes. " It's tough luck, Men- 
 zies. I know you hate this kind of thing. Now 
 there's Forrester he's got nothing in particular on: 
 if you like " 
 
 Menzies' heavy eyebrows contracted as he scru- 
 tinised his chief suspiciously. Untold gold would not 
 have induced him to willingly relax his hold of a case 
 that interested him. " I'm not shifting any job of 
 mine on to anyone else's shoulders, Mr. Foyle," he said 
 acidly. 
 
 " That's all right," said Foyle imperturbably. " Go 
 ahead." 
 
 [29]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Menzies tapped his pile of statements. " As far as 
 I can boil down what we've got, this is how it stands. 
 Old Greye-Stratton was a retired West Indian mer- 
 chant dropped out of harness eight years ago, and has 
 lived like a hermit by himself in Linstone Terrace Gar- 
 dens ever since. It seems there was some trouble about 
 his wife she was a widow named Errol when he mar- 
 ried her, and she had one son. Five years before the 
 crash there was a daughter born. Anyway, as I was 
 saying, trouble arose, and he kicked his wife out, sent 
 the baby girl abroad to be educated, and the boy he 
 would then be about twenty with his mother. Well, the 
 woman died a few years after. Young Errol came down 
 to Greye-Stratton, kicked up a bit of a shindy, and was 
 given an allowance on condition that he left the country. 
 He went to Canada, and thence on to the States, and 
 must have been a bit of a waster. A year ago he re- 
 turned to England and turned up in Linstone Terrace 
 Gardens ; there was a row and he went away swearing 
 revenge. Old Greye-Stratton stopped supplies, and 
 neither the lawyers nor anyone else have seen anything 
 of Errol since." 
 
 Foyle rolled a pencil to and fro across his blotting- 
 pad with the palm of his hand. He interrupted with 
 no question. What Menzies stated as facts he knew 
 the chief inspector would be able to prove by sworn 
 evidence, if necessary. He was merely summarising evi- 
 dence. The inference he allowed to be drawn, and so 
 
 [30]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 far it seemed an inference that bade fair to place a 
 noose round young Errol's neck. 
 
 " We have got this," went on Menzies, " from people 
 in Linstone Terrace Gardens, from Greye-Stratton's 
 old servants, from the house agents from whom he rented 
 his house, and from Pembroke, of Pembroke and 
 Stephens, who used to be his solicitors. Greye-Stratton 
 was seventy years old, as deaf as a beetle, and as ec- 
 centric as a monkey. I don't believe he has kept any 
 servant for more than three months at a stretch we 
 have traced out a dozen, and there must be scores more. 
 But it is only lately that he has taken to accusing them 
 of being in a plot to murder him. The last cook he 
 had he made taste everything she prepared in his 
 presence. 
 
 " He had no friends in the ordinary way and few 
 visitors. Twice within the last year he has been visited 
 by a woman, but who or what she was no one knows. She 
 came evidently by appointment and was let in by him, 
 himself; remained half an hour and went away. Prac- 
 tically all his business affairs had been carried on by 
 correspondence, and he was never known to destroy a 
 letter. Yet we have found few documents in the house 
 that can have any bearing on the case, except possibly 
 this, which was found in the grate of the little bedroom 
 he habitually used." 
 
 He extracted from the pile of statements a square 
 of doubled glass, which he passed to Foyle. It con- 
 
 [31]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 tained several charred fragments of writing paper with 
 a few detached words and letters discernible. 
 
 " J. E. Gre. . . . Will see ... Id you . . . 
 lies . . . mother to her death . . . ous swine . . . 
 let me hea. ..." 
 
 " Errol's writing? " queried Foyle. 
 
 " I haven't got a sample yet, but I've little doubt of 
 it. Now here's another thing. It was Greye-Stratton's 
 custom to lock up the house every night at dusk, himself. 
 He would go round with a revolver and see to every one 
 of the bolts and fastenings, and no one was allowed in 
 or out thereafter. It was one of the grievances of the 
 servants that they were prisoners soon after four o'clock 
 each day in winter. And though he always slept with 
 that revolver under his pillow, we can't find it. 
 
 " There's another thing. Greye-Stratton had a little 
 study where he spent most of the day, and there was a 
 safe built in to the wall. It may mean nothing, or any- 
 thing, but the safe was open and there was not a thing 
 in it. Now we have been able to discover no one who 
 has ever seen that safe open before. It's curious, too, 
 in view of Hallett's story about the cheques, that we 
 have not been able to lay our hands on a single thing 
 that refers to a banting transaction not so much as 
 a paying-in book or a bunch of counterfoils. 
 
 " The doctors say the old man was shot about three 
 hours before we got there. That would be about half- 
 
 [32]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 past nine. I don't know how Hallett struck you, Mr. 
 Foyle, but according to his own account he must have 
 arrived at Linstone Terrace Gardens at nine." 
 
 Foyle rubbed his chin thoughtfully. " You mean he 
 may have been there when the shot was fired." 
 
 Menzies made an impatient gesture. " I don't know. 
 I own freely I don't quite take in this yarn, and yet the 
 man struck me as genuine. He's got good credentials, 
 and if he's mixed up with the murder, why did he 'phone 
 to me? " 
 
 " Search me," said Foyle. " What about the daugh- 
 ter? You said there was a girl." 
 
 Menzies stuck his thumbs in the sleeve holes of his 
 waistcoat. " That's another queer point. She was 
 brought up abroad, and scarcely ever saw the old man. 
 Pembroke says she spent her holidays with an old 
 couple down in Sussex, to whom he had instructions to 
 pay three hundred pounds a year. When she left school 
 he had the allowance paid to her direct. She had a 
 taste for painting and was apparently quite capable of 
 looking after herself. For two years she has not called 
 or given any instructions about it. He wrote Greye- 
 Stratton, who retorted it was none of his business 
 that the allowance would be paid over to his firm, and 
 that if the girl did not choose to ask for it, it could 
 accumulate. He did not seem at all concerned at her 
 disappearance. Take it from me, Mr. Foyle, we shall 
 run across some more damned funny business before we 
 
 [33]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 get to the bottom of this. There's not even a ghost of 
 a finger-print. If only we can find Errol 
 
 Foyle was too old a hand to offer conjecture at so 
 early a stage of the case. Nor did Menzies seem to 
 expect any advice. Hard as he had driven the investiga- 
 tion during the night, the ground was not yet cleared. 
 Until he had all the facts in his possession it was useless 
 to absolutely pin himself to any one line of reasoning. 
 There was now one man who, en known facts, might 
 liave committed the murder. But plausible as was the 
 supposition that Errol was the man, the detectives knew 
 that at best it was only a suspicion. And suspicion 
 nowadays does not commit a man. It does not always 
 justify an arrest. There must be evidence, and so far 
 there was not a scrap of proof that Errol had been 
 within a thousand miles of Linstone Terrace Gardens 
 on the night of the murder. 
 
 Menzies went away with his bundle of documents, to 
 have them typed, indexed, and put in order, so that he 
 could lay his hand on any one needed at a moment's 
 notice. He was in for a busy day. 
 
 Two advertisements he drafted in the sanctuary of 
 his own office. One was to check Hallett's own account 
 of the evening before, and to identify, if possible, the 
 street in which the cheques had been forced on him. 
 
 " 1 REWARD. The taxi-cab driver who, on the 
 
 evening of , drove a fare from the 
 
 [34]
 
 West End to 34, Linstone Terrace Gardens, Ken- 
 sington, will receive the above reward on communi- 
 cating with the Public Carriage Office, New Scot- 
 land Yard. S. W." 
 
 The other ran differently, and seemed to give him 
 more trouble. Several sheets of note-paper he wasted, 
 and discontentedly surveyed his final effort. 
 
 " If James Errol, last heard of at Columbus, 
 Ohio, U. S. A., will communicate " 
 
 He crushed the sheet up, flung it in the waste-paper 
 basket, and lifted a speaking-tube. " Any newspaper 
 men there, Green ? Right. Tell 'em I'll see 'em in half 
 an hour. Send me up a typist." 
 
 The newspaper press, if deftly handled, may be a 
 potent factor in the detection of crime. Moreover, the 
 ubiquitous reporter is not to be evaded for long by the 
 cleverest detective living. The wisest course is to meet 
 him with fair words to guide his pen where there is 
 a danger of his writing too much, and put him on his 
 honour on occasion. Many a promising case has been 
 spoilt by tactless treatment of a pressman at a wrong 
 moment. 
 
 Menzies dictated an account of the murder, in which 
 he said just as much as he wanted to say and not a word 
 more. The conclusion ran : 
 
 [35]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " The stepson of the deceased gentleman, a Mr. 
 James Errol, left England for the United States 
 many years ago, and his present whereabouts are 
 unknown. The police are anxious to get in to touch 
 with him, in order that certain points in connection 
 with his father's career should be cleared up." 
 
 The chief detective inspector knew that the simple 
 paragraph would throw into the search for Errol the 
 energies and organisation of every great newspaper an 
 aid he did not despise. It was not intended as an official 
 statement. The Criminal Investigation Department 
 does not issue bulletins officially. It was an act of cour- 
 tesy, and incidentally a stroke of policy to maintain the 
 good-will of the Press. The reporters might para- 
 phrase it as they would. 
 
 He received the newspaper men pleasantly, parried 
 their chaff and too adroit questions with unruffled good- 
 humour, and told them little anecdotes which had not 
 the slightest bearing on the murder or Greye-Stratton. 
 They read the typewritten sheets he handed them greed- 
 ily and cross-examined him as mercilessly as ever he had 
 been cross-examined at the Old Bailey. A clerk brought 
 a card to him and he read it without a change of coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " In a minute," he said to the waiting clerk, and put 
 the card in his waistcoat pocket. " Well, gentlemen, 
 you know as much as I do now. If there's anything else 
 
 [36]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 you want to know, just drop in and see me when you 
 like. Good morning." 
 
 They accepted their dismissal, and he took another 
 glance at the card. " Miss Lucy Olney," he read ; and 
 underneath, written in pencil: " Peggy Greye-Stratton." 
 
 '[87]
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE early evening papers were on the streets before 
 Jimmie Hallett rose, and the inevitable reporters had 
 established a blockade of his hotel. He cursed them 
 while he shaved. As an old newspaper hand himself, 
 he had little taste to be served up again all hot and 
 spiced for the delectation of a morbidly hungry 
 public. 
 
 He surveyed a salver full of cards that had been 
 brought up to him with a scowl. Vivid recollections 
 came to him of the way in which he had himself dealt 
 in " personal sketches," and " personal statements " on 
 big stories, and he began to conceive a certain fellow- 
 feeling for his long-forgotten victims. But his chin 
 grew dogged. 
 
 " I'll see 'em in hell before I'll talk. Go away and 
 tell 'em I'm dead." 
 
 The liveried functionary who had brought the cards 
 gave as near an approach to a grin as his dignity per- 
 mitted. " Yes, sir," he said quietly ; " they'll not be- 
 lieve it, sir." 
 
 Hallett swung his eyes sideways to the man, and his 
 hand slipped to his trousers pocket. It was no use 
 getting angry. " Say, what are you getting out of this, 
 sonnie?" he demanded. " It's all right. You needn't 
 answer." A bank-note crackled between his fingers. 
 
 [38]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " If you can clear out the gang below this is yours. 
 It's more than they'll give you." 
 
 " Very good, sir. There'll be no harm in telling 
 them you're in a very critical condition, sir, I suppose? " 
 
 " Not in the least. If they've any bowels of com- 
 passion they won't worry a dying man. It will stave 
 'em off for a while, perhaps." 
 
 As a matter of fact, beyond a mild headache and 
 some stiffness, he felt scarcely a trace of the attentions 
 of his overnight assailant. He was uncertain whether 
 that was a tribute to the skill of the divisional surgeon 
 or to the hardness of his skull. He inwardly congratu- 
 lated himself that the injury was not a particularly 
 noticeable disfigurement. Indeed a skillful brushing of 
 the hair almost hid it. 
 
 He descended to breakfast with an appetite that of 
 itself was proof that his general health remained un- 
 affected, and discovering that there was a back entrance 
 to the hotel, decided to make use of it, lest some per- 
 tinacious reporter might still be lingering in the recep- 
 tion hall. He wanted to know something of what the 
 police were doing, and a visit to Scotland Yard seemed 
 the best way of finding out. In the background of his 
 thoughts there was perhaps less concern that a mur- 
 derer should be brought to justice than curiosity in 
 regard to the lady of the fog. 
 
 There is a way, mostly used by tradesmen, at the 
 Palatial Hotel, which leads through a narrow alley for 
 
 [39]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 fifty yards on to the Embankment. Through this Hal- 
 lett sauntered. He was halfway through when a tap 
 on the shoulder caused him to wheel. He confronted a 
 slim-built, shallow-faced man, of lank moustache and 
 burning black eyes. 
 
 " Pardon," he said. " Your name is Hallett? " He 
 spoke silkily and the extremely correct pronunciation 
 of his words showed that he was neither English nor 
 American. 
 
 " Well? " demanded Hallett shortly. He feared that 
 he had been run down by a reporter after all. 
 
 " You were at the place where this man was killed 
 yesterday eh?" The man shook a newspaper under 
 his face. 
 
 " Well? " said Hallett again. He had resumed his 
 walk but the other was keeping pace with him. 
 
 A hand caught at his arm. The burning black eyes 
 were within three inches of his face. " You know 
 who killed heem, eh?" The English had become a 
 little less correct under stress of some excitement. 
 " You have not told the pol-lice yet. You will not tell 
 them?" 
 
 Hallett shook himself free angrily. " Look here, my 
 man," he said. " I don't propose to answer your ques- 
 tions, so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it. 
 Now git." 
 
 The foreigner's hand dropped to his pocket. He did 
 not remove it, but pressed something hard through the 
 
 [40]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 cloth against the young man's ribs. " You are hasty, 
 Mr. Hallett," he remonstrated. " You don't know what 
 it is you say what you're up against. This is a pistol 
 you can feel " he pressed it close " and unless you 
 listen quietly I shall keel you dead. Understand? " 
 
 " Well? " said Hallett quietly. 
 
 " You were at the house. You saw who killed the 
 old man? You would know him again? " The man did 
 not wait for an answer. " You must keep your mouth 
 shut. This is for a warning. If you see him again you 
 not tell eh? There are many of us. You will be 
 
 watched. And if you split " A prod with the pistol 
 
 finished the sentence. 
 
 The theory that his molester was a reporter had 
 long ago been abandoned by Jimmie Hallett. It was 
 evidently thought that he had seen the face of the man 
 at Linstone Terrace Gardens and he was to be terrorised 
 into silence. He had sense enough to reflect that for 
 all the audacity of the hold-up, the threat of surveil- 
 lance was bluff perhaps even the concealed pistol was 
 bluff. Not that his actions would have differed much 
 even had he supposed them real. 
 
 He took a quick step backwards and sideways and 
 a bullet that tore its way through the cloth of the other 
 man's pocket told that that part of the story was relia- 
 ble. Then Hallett's knee was in his back and Hallett's 
 arms were woven in a strangle-hold about his throat. 
 The man collapsed, gurgling. 
 
 [41]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 The whole business had occurred in barely two sec- 
 onds of time. As they fell there was a third arrival. 
 
 " Hold him down a minute, Mr. Hallett. That's all 
 right." The third man possessed himself of the squirm- 
 ing captive's wrists and twisted them behind his back 
 to Hallett. Then he methodically and quickly ran his 
 hands through the prostrate man's clothing, possessing 
 himself of a still smoking Derringer and a formidable 
 sheath-knife. 
 
 " Thank you, sir. Now this gentleman might get up. 
 We'll run him along to King Street station and see what 
 Mr. Menzies has to say about it." 
 
 Then Hallett noted that the man who had come to 
 his assistance was the liveried functionary who had ac- 
 cepted his five-pound note to put off the press men less 
 than an hour ago. But he no longer wore livery. He 
 was in quiet, unassuming tweeds and his manner was not 
 exactly that which might be expected from a waiter to 
 an hotel guest even in the circumstances. 
 
 He surprised Hallett's look of enquiry and smiled as 
 he locked his arm into that of the prisoner. " Detective 
 Sergeant Royal, sir," he explained. " I'll let you know 
 all about it later. What's your name, my man? " He 
 shook his captive slightly. 
 
 " Smeeth William Smeeth," said the man sullenly, 
 and Royal winked at Hallett. 
 
 " That's a good old Anglo-Saxon name," he said. 
 " Come along." 
 
 [42]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 It was in the Criminal Investigation office at King- 
 Street, while they were awaiting Menzies, that Royal 
 gave his explanation with a certain apologetic tone. 
 " It was this way, Mr. Hallett. You see, Mr. Menzies 
 asked me to keep an eye on you when you were sent 
 home yesterday. Of course he thought you were all 
 right, but it doesn't do to take anyone's say-so in our 
 trade. This is murder, you see, and though it seemed 
 all right, you might have forged or stolen the introduc- 
 tion you had. We couldn't be sure your name was really 
 Hallett." 
 
 " And sandbagged myself on the back of the head," 
 interpolated Hallett with irony. 
 
 Royal gave a shrug. " Mr. Menzies doesn't take any 
 risks, sir. It couldn't do you any harm. They know 
 me at the hotel and that's how it was I was able to get 
 into livery and walk into your room pretty well as I 
 liked." 
 
 A new light broke upon Hallett. " I get you. I 
 thought perhaps I was a bit fogged when I got up and 
 had forgotten where I put things. You've been search- 
 ing my room." 
 
 Royal's face never shifted a muscle. " I don't admit 
 it, sir. That would be illegal without your permis- 
 sion." 
 
 " Illegal or not, you did it," retorted Hallett. " I 
 hope you're quite satisfied." 
 
 " Oh, there'll be no more trouble about that. Mr. 
 [43]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Menzies told me on the telephone just now that he'd 
 cabled to the States and they've put your reputation 
 straight. Besides, there's what I learned about you." 
 
 " I suppose you read my letters," ventured Hallett. 
 " No. Don't worry to soothe me down. I'd probably 
 have half killed you if I'd caught you at it, but I'm 
 quite calm now. By the way, there was a fiver 
 
 A flush mounted to the temples of the detective and! 
 he shook his head in vehement denial of the implication 
 contained in the broken sentence. " I had to take it or 
 you might have suspected something. I passed it on 
 to the servants and told 'em what to do. I never saw 
 the press people myself. Some of 'em might have 
 known me. When you went down to breakfast I changed 
 my clothes and slipped a 'phone message through to 
 headquarters. They told me to hang on to you till 
 Mr. Menzies had seen you. You'd never have known 
 a word about it if it hadn't been for our bird down 
 below." He jerked his head in the direction of the 
 cells. 
 
 Hallett began to appreciate some of the realities of 
 detective work. Before he could make any comment, 
 Menzies came in. He nodded affably to the young 
 man. 
 
 " Morning, Mr. Hallett ; not much the worse for last 
 night, I see. I've got a little job for you presently. 
 Meanwhile I want to see your friend down below. Like 
 to come along? " 
 
 [44]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 He made no apology for the espionage he had set on 
 foot and Hallett did not think it worth while to thrash 
 out the subject again. 
 
 " William Smith," it seemed, had already been 
 searched with care and thoroughness. Royal explained 
 to his chief that nothing which would serve as a hint 
 to who he was had been found on him nothing but 
 the pistol, nine cartridges, and some money. 
 
 " Have you looked for the name of the tailor on his 
 clothes the brace buttons, the inside of the breast 
 pocket, the trousers band? " demanded Menzies. 
 
 " Of course, sir," said Royal. He was a trifle of- 
 fended that it should even be thought that he had 
 neglected so elementary a precaution. " There's nothing 
 nothing at all." 
 
 Preceded by a uniformed inspector they went down 
 to the cells. Smith looked up sullenly from the bench 
 on which he was seated and met Menzies' gaze squarely. 
 The detective chief was no believer in Lombroso's the- 
 ories of physiognomy, but he studied the face intently. 
 In point of fact he was analysing the features to dis- 
 cover if he had seen the man before. He wanted, 
 too, to get some clue as to the manner he should 
 adopt authoritative and official, or familiar and per- 
 suasive. 
 
 " Well, sonny," he said gently. " You've tumbled 
 into a mess. Attempted murder is a serious business in 
 this country." 
 
 [45]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Smith glanced at him blackly over his shoulder. 
 Menzies went on : " Of course we don't believe the cock- 
 and-bull story you told Mr. Hallett of there being a 
 gang of you " 
 
 "You don't, eh?" exclaimed the prisoner, wheeling 
 in sudden passion to face his visitors. " Then you are 
 what shall I say wooden blockheads." He pointed 
 a long slender forefinger at each of them in turn. " You I 
 and you ! and you ! I tell you, you will be marked. I 
 failed but there are others who will not fail, if you 
 persist." 
 
 Royal turned away to hide a snigger. This kind of 
 melodrama failed to impress him. 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt," assented Menzies soothingly. 
 He might have been calming down a headstrong ques- 
 tioner at a vestry meeting. " But there are a good 
 many police officers in London. It will take a long time 
 to kill 'em off. Now why don't you be reasonable, Mr. 
 Smith?" 
 
 " Pah ! " interrupted the prisoner. He spat on the 
 cell floor to indicate his contempt. 
 
 " You've shown you know something about this mur- 
 der," went on Menzies. " The judge is pretty sure to 
 take that into account one way or the other at your 
 trial. I, of course, should tell him if you helped us. 
 It would probably make a difference, you know." 
 
 The prisoner showed two rows of yellow teeth in an 
 unmirthful, contemptuous grin. " Go away, wooden- 
 
 [46]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 head. I shall not go to prison, but you will die. You 
 don't know what you call what you are up against." 
 
 " Perhaps I've got an idea," said Menzies. His voice 
 changed. " I don't know whether you're playing the 
 fool, my man," he said sternly, " or whether you really 
 believe that kind of wild talk. Perhaps your friend 
 Errol will be able to enlighten us." 
 
 " Errol ? " said Smith blankly. " I know him not." 
 " I hear you," said Menzies. " You think over what 
 I've said, my lad. Meanwhile, we'll have a doctor to 
 look at you." 
 
 [47]
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 | MENZIES let an unparliamentary expression slip from 
 his lips as the cell door clanged behind them. It is 
 tantalising to have a piece of evidence drop into one's 
 lap, so to speak, and then refuse to be evidence. He was 
 annoyed because his efforts to unlock the lips of the 
 prisoner had failed. He knew that if only the man 
 could have been induced to talk, days, possibly weeks, 
 of heart-breaking labour would be saved. 
 
 This fresh development had him guessing, as Jimmie 
 Hallett might have said. Who was " William Smith "? 
 Why had he threatened Hallett, and even gone so far 
 as to try to carry his threat into execution? The hint 
 of an organised conspiracy to save the murderer of 
 Greye-Stratton would have excited his derision if it 
 had not aroused speculation. The secret societies in 
 England may talk murder at times, but they never seri- 
 ously plot murder or carry out a murder. A man who 
 perils his neck has invariably some strong, personal mo- 
 
 , tive. And when others actively shield him they also have 
 some motive other than pure altruism. 
 
 One person may commit an irresponsible act for no 
 reason; it is even conceivable that two people may act 
 in concert in some insane crime. But here were at least 
 three people concerned and possibly more the woman 
 who had passed the cheques to Hallet, the murderer of 
 
 [48]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Greye-Stratton, and " William Smith." What was the 
 link that bound them all together? That each was act- 
 ing from some powerful self-interest he felt confident. 
 It might be that there was a community of interest, but 
 he was sceptic enough to think that accidental. 
 
 The chief inspector checked his flow of thought with 
 a jerk. Speculation without materials spelt a fixed 
 theory and to a detective too early a theory may be 
 fatal. He is apt to try to prove his theory rather than 
 the truth. 
 
 He laid a hand on Hallett's arm as the gaoler inserted 
 a key in the big steel door that led to the charge room. 
 
 " Wait a minute. There are a dozen people the other 
 side of the door waiting for us. I want you to have a 
 good look at them when you go in. If you recognise 
 any of them I want you to go up and touch her." 
 
 " Her" repeated Hallett. His pulse throbbing unac- 
 countably faster. Menzies eyed him keenly. 
 
 " You said last night that you would probably know 
 the woman again who planted the cheques on you. I'm 
 relying on you, Mr. Hallett. You're a man of the 
 world. Don't run away with the idea that a pretty face 
 can't be mixed up in crime." 
 
 " So you've run her down. Why didn't you tell me 
 before? Who is she? Does she admit passing the 
 cheques ? " 
 
 Menzies shook a forefinger blandly at the young man. 
 " I'll answer your questions some other time. Only play 
 
 ' [49]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 the game, Mr. Hallett." He was a shrewd judge of 
 men, and all along he had been doubtful whether Jim- 
 mie's chivalry would be proof against the. test to which 
 he proposed to put it. 
 
 And Jimmie himself was doubtful. A week a day 
 ago he would have ridiculed the idea that a pair of blue 
 eyes, seen only once, could have swayed him in any de- 
 gree. He did not put his thoughts into form, but he 
 wondered what the effect to her of an identification 
 might be. Had Menzies any suspicion against her? 
 Jimmie found himself arguing illogically enough that it 
 was impossible. Menzies' words braced him as they 
 were intended to come what would, he would point her 
 out if she were in the charge room. 
 
 And then the door swung back. The charge room, 
 lofty and bare, was tenanted by a little group of women 
 seated in a row, at the lower end. Apart from them, 
 in the centre, by the inspector's tall desk, were a couple 
 of officers. A third was leaning against the dock. The 
 chatter of voices ceased. 
 
 " Take a good look at these ladies," said Menzies' 
 suave voice. 
 
 Jimmie had not needed more than one glance. There 
 was a sufficient general resemblance among the army of 
 women, but she was unmistakable. She was the second 
 from the right. He had taken one pace towards her 
 when her gaze met his. There was nothing in it of ap- 
 peal. It was indifferent, cold, impassive. Yet Hallett's 
 
 [50]
 
 resolution wavered. He walked past her along the row 
 and back again. He felt himself a fool. There was not 
 the faintest reason why he should not identify her. She 
 was a stranger. She was at least indirectly responsible 
 for the unpleasant experiences that had beset him. She 
 was possibly concerned in a deliberate murder. And 
 then out of the tail of his eye he saw her moisten her 
 dry lips. That was the only trace of emotion she gave. 
 
 " It's no good, Mr. Menzies," he said quietly. " I 
 don't recognise anyone here." He had played poker in 
 his time and his face and voice were absolutely expres- 
 sionless. 
 
 Menzies tapped a forefinger thoughtfully alongside 
 his nose and smiled ruefully. 
 
 " All right," he said, and Jimmie fancied there was 
 an inner shade of meaning to the words. " That will do, 
 ladies, thank you." 
 
 The women wives and daughters of police officials 
 for the most part separated. Only the girl of the 
 cheques remained behind. As the room emptied she 
 walked towards Menzies. 
 
 " That's over, Miss Greye-Stratton," he said cheer- 
 fully. " I am ever so much obliged to you. I want you 
 to know Mr. Hallett the gentleman who first called 
 our attention to the death of your father." 
 
 Jimmie concealed the surprise that the name gave him. 
 Although there was a certain touch of melancholy in 
 the oval face, there was none of that grief which might 
 
 [51]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 have been expected in a girl who had suddenly learned 
 of the murder of her father. For a moment he was re- 
 pelled. He murmured some conventional phrase of sym- 
 pathy, but she swept it away as though aware that her 
 manner needed explanation. 
 
 *' Yes, this is very dreadful, Mr. Hallett, but not 
 so dreadful to me as it might have been. You see I 
 scarcely knew my father. We were almost complete 
 strangers." 
 
 " Miss Greye-Stratton called on me at the Yard as 
 soon as she heard of the murder," interposed Menzies. 
 " I thought it as well in the circumstances that there 
 should be no ground for misunderstandings. You see 
 your story of the way the cheques came into your pos- 
 session is bound to make talk when you give evidence 
 at the inquest. I wanted it to be definitely clear that 
 Miss Greye-Stratton was not the lady and she was good 
 enough to consent to this arrangement." 
 
 Hallett wondered how the diplomacy of the detective 
 would have got over the difficulty if the girl had refused. 
 That she had consented showed nerve, for she had not 
 known that he would not identify her. He was curious, 
 too, as to what would have happened if he had picked 
 her out. Would she have been arrested on suspicion? 
 
 " If it had been Miss Greye-Stratton she would 
 hardly have sought you out," he remarked. 
 
 " No, no, of course not," said Menzies soothingly. 
 " I never thought for a moment that she was the woman. 
 
 [52]
 
 One likes to save anything in the nature of scandal, 
 though. I remember a case where two elderly ladies 
 sisters living in a country house were attacked by 
 someone with a hammer. One was found dead, the other 
 unconscious she remained unconscious for weeks. The 
 hammer was found in an outhouse a hundred yards away. 
 Now there was a considerable amount of gossip and 
 the theory was firmly held by dozens of people that the 
 living sister had attacked the dead one. They over- 
 looked the fact that to have done so she must have 
 walked to the place where the hammer was found after 
 her own injuries had been inflicted. That's an example 
 of what I mean." 
 
 The girl nodded. " I am quite sure you only meant 
 to save me possible future unpleasantness. Is there 
 anything else? You have my address." 
 
 " There is no other way at the moment in which you 
 can help. As matters develop I may call on you. It 
 has been very good of you " 
 
 She stretched out her slim gloved hand to Hallett. 
 But he was not inclined to let her escape so easily. She 
 owed him something, if only an explanation. " I am 
 going your way," he said unblushingly. " Perhaps if 
 you don't mind " 
 
 " You are very kind, Mr. Hallett," she said 
 formally. 
 
 Menzies stroked his moustache and his eyes roved 
 sideways to his aide-de-camp, Royal, who, after an ab- 
 
 [53]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 sence of two or three minutes, had now returned. Royal 
 nodded almost imperceptibly, and the inspector said 
 good-bye. 
 
 " By the way, you had better be at the police court 
 at two, Mr. Hallett. We shall charge this man Smith 
 today. I don't expect you'll be kept long. It will be 
 purely formal. We shall apply for a remand." 
 
 Hallett and the girl went down the steps to the street. 
 He was conscious that though she appeared to be gazing 
 serenely in front of her that she occasionally scru- 
 tinised him with curious eyes. 
 
 Not till they were a hundred yards away from the 
 police station did either of them speak again. Then 
 Jimmie ventured on the ice. 
 
 " Perhaps now you will tell me what it's all about?" 
 
 " Oh ! " she stopped and turned full on him with 
 the wide-open, innocent blue eyes of a child. " So you 
 knew all the time. I wasn't sure." 
 
 " Wasn't sure that I knew you as the girl in the 
 fog? 
 
 "Yes. Shall we walk on? We might attract atten- 
 tion standing here. Why did you do it? Why didn't 
 you denounce me ? " 
 
 Jimmie twiddled his walking-stick. " Hanged if I 
 know," he confessed. Her self-possession rather 
 daunted him. " I thought that is if you wanted to 
 you would have explained the incident yourself." 
 
 " That's no reason. You didn't know me. There 
 [54]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 was no earthly motive. All the same I am grateful to 
 you, Mr. Hallett sincerely grateful." She sighed. 
 
 A porter with a parcel under his arm loitered three 
 yards behind them. Ten yards behind him a. "nut," 
 scrupulously dressed and seemingly conscious of nothing 
 but the beauty of his attire, swaggered aimlessly. Men- 
 zies, as has been said, was\not a man who took anything 
 for granted. His arrangements for " covering " Peggy 
 Greye-Stratton in the event of Hallett not recognising 
 her had been completed long before he had confronted 
 them in the charge room. 
 
 Hallett might have guessed if he had thought about 
 it at all. The girl certainly did not. Jimmie caught 
 at her last words. 
 
 " You can prove that. Although we have only been 
 formally introduced in the last five minutes, we are not 
 exactly strangers. Come and lunch with me. Then we 
 can talk. There are several things I want to know." 
 
 She assented, it seemed to him somewhat indifferently. 
 He hailed a taxi-cab and gave the name of a famous 
 restaurant. As she sank back in the cushions it was as 
 though a mask had dropped from her face. It had sud- 
 denly become utterly weary. She gasped once or twice 
 as if for breath. Only for an instant had the mask 
 dropped, but Hallett had seen and understood. The 
 girl was strained to breaking point, supporting her part 
 only by strength of will. 
 
 What that part was, and why she was playing it, he 
 [55]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 was fixed in the resolution to learn. He spoke on indif- 
 ferent subjects till lunch was over and coffee was 
 brought. Then he leaned a little forward across the 
 table. 
 
 " I shall be glad if I can be of any help to you, Miss 
 Greye-Stratton," he said. 
 
 A smile, palpably forced, appeared on the girl's face. 
 She twisted a ring on her finger absently. " That is a 
 polite way of bringing me to the point, Mr. Hallett. 
 You have a right to ask." 
 
 A sigh trembled on her lips, and her eyes became 
 absent. The man said nothing, but waited. Very 
 dainty and desirable did Peggy Greye-Stratton seem to 
 him then. Yet he would not have been human if he had 
 not had misgivings. Her. very reluctance to speak 
 aroused a little spark of suspicion which he deliberately 
 trampled under foot. A beautiful face, a high intelli- 
 gence, and courage and all these he knew she pos- 
 sessed are not necessarily guarantees against crime. 
 
 She appeared to come to a resolve. " I will tell you 
 what I told Mr. Menzies," she said looking up. 
 " Knowing what you know it will seem incomplete to 
 you, but you " she looked him full in the face " are 
 a gentleman. I trust you not to question me too far. 
 There are other people." 
 
 He, too, had come to a resolve. " Tell me," he said 
 levelly, " before you say anything else. Did you have 
 act or part in. the murder of your father? " 
 
 [56]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 She stared at him whitely and half rose. Her shapely 
 
 throat was working strangely. " Do you think " 
 
 she began. And then tensely : " No ! no ! no ! " Her 
 voice fell to a strained whisper. " Why do you ask me 
 
 that if I had known if I could have prevented " 
 
 She was rapidly becoming distraught. 
 
 He felt himself a cur, but he pressed home the ques- 
 tion relentlessly. " Do you know who it was that mur- 
 dered your father? " 
 
 Her fair head fell to her arms on the table. Had 
 Hallett known, he could not have put his questions at 
 a time more likely to wring an answer from her. All 
 that morning she had borne herself before the keen eyes 
 of Menzies and his assistants, conscious that the slight- 
 est falter might betray what she did not wish known. 
 Her nerves were now paying the penalty. She raised a 
 face torn with emotion towards Hallett. 
 
 " God help me," she moaned. " I believe I do." 
 
 [57]
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 HE had expected the answer, and yet it came to him as 
 a shock. She was regarding him with an expression, 
 half defiant, half appealing. His eyes wandered roundi 
 the room. He had engaged a table that stood in a 
 recess behind one of the marbled pillars and they were 
 thus separated from the general company in the room. 
 Their voices had been low, but he was afraid they 
 might have attracted attention. But no one seemed 
 to have observed them and he turned once more to 
 her. 
 
 Somehow she had repressed her weakness. He sig- 
 nalled to the waiter and ordered a liqueur. As she took 
 it he observed that her hand was perfectly steady. And 
 yet but a moment before she had been on the verge of 
 hysterics. 
 
 " Tell me just what you like," he said simply. " Just 
 as much or as little as you like. You can trust me." 
 
 " Thank you," she said ; " you are very good. Let 
 me think. . . . To begin with, you must know my father 
 was a very strange man. When I was quite a baby he 
 quarrelled with my mother and I was sent down into the 
 country, where I lived with an old gentleman farmer 
 and his wife named Dinward. I always understood that 
 I was their child until a few years ago they never 
 spoke of either my father or my mother. Once just 
 
 [58]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 before I went to school he came to see me. I, of 
 course, did not know who he was. 
 
 " I was sent to a convent school at Bruges, where I 
 was brought up, coming home for the holidays home, 
 of course, being in Sussex. Occasionally I was brought 
 to London. I won't go into all the detail of my life until 
 I left school it wouldn't interest you. All this time, 
 remember, I had no knowledge of any relations but the 
 Dinwards. When I left school I learnt for the first time 
 that I was not their daughter. Mr. Pembroke, a so- 
 licitor, came over to Bruges and told me very nicely. 
 But acting on instructions, he said he could give me 
 no clue to my parents. There would be three hundred 
 a year payable to me quarterly by his firm. I was no 
 longer to look to the Dinwards for support. 
 
 " Mr. Pembroke was very nice, but he had his instruc- 
 tions. I asked him what I was expected to do. * I pre- 
 sume,' he said, ' that your benefactor intends that you 
 shall have enough to support you respectably. Think 
 over your plans to-night, my dear young lady, and we 
 will talk it over in the morning.' 
 
 " I did think it over. You may imagine that I slept 
 little that night. I have a certain facility for painting 
 and that seemed to me to offer an outlet to ambition. I 
 told Pembroke next day. He expressed neither ap- 
 proval nor disapproval. A cheque he said, would be 
 waiting for me at the offices of his firm on the first day 
 of every quarter. He, offered to give me introductions 
 
 .[59]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 in London, but I answered that the only introduction 
 I needed was to my parents. He shook his head at me 
 a little doubtfully and that ended the conversation. 
 
 " I wanted to see the world a little before I settled 
 down in London. I went to see the Dinwards, but no 
 word could I get from them as to who I really was. 
 They would tell me nothing. 
 
 " The Dinwards were troubled about me naturally. 
 Of course I promised to keep in touch with them. I 
 changed my name. I had been called Peggy Dinward. 
 I became Lucy Olney. That, by the way, Mr. Hallett, 
 is the name I still keep. 
 
 " The allowance I was to receive seemed a tremendous 
 fortune to me. I went abroad to study art, I told my- 
 self. I went to Paris, to Rome, to Venice, and other 
 places. But the money did not prove so ample as I 
 expected. Perhaps I was extravagant. Anyway, in 
 about eight months I was in London, determined to make 
 my fortune and I still thought that my art pointed 
 the way. 
 
 " You will guess that I had some troubles. Art for 
 art's sake is one thing, but I am afraid I haven't the 
 true temperament. I wanted recognition, and though 
 I could have existed without the money I wanted 
 money as a proof that I was recognised. But no one 
 seemed to appreciate me as a genius. It was difficult 
 enough to get dealers to take my pictures at a price that 
 barely paid for canvas and paint. Then I drifted into 
 
 [60]
 
 magazine and book illustration work and in that I found 
 my metier. I earned much more than I really needed 
 even without my allowance." 
 
 She fingered a serviette absently for a moment. 
 There was an abstraction in her eyes. Hallett waited 
 without interruption for her to resume. 
 
 " I have not told you that I have a step-brother," 
 she went on. " Indeed I did not know it myself till two 
 years ago. He is my mother's son by her first marriage 
 and is much older than myself. He was sent abroad 
 at the time that I was handed over to the Dinwards. 
 As I say, two years ago he traced me out I believe he 
 got my assumed name and my address from the Din- 
 wards. It was from him that I first learned who I was, 
 who my father was, who my mother was. He told me 
 the whole terrible story of Mr. Greye-Stratton's Ij 
 can't call him my father break with my mother. He 
 swore that she was innocent that it was a madman's 
 fit of jealousy that broke up the home. I I ^" 
 
 Her throat worked and it was some moments before 
 she took up her account again. " My brother had only 
 recently returned to England, and he told me that his 
 first step had been to find me. He wanted me to go 
 back with him to Canada. * You're my baby sister,' 
 he said, * I have a right to look after you. There's only 
 you and I now.' 
 
 " I can't express how I felt. My quick anger against 
 my father was less intense than his long-nursed hatred. 
 
 [61]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 We talked long. I refused his offer to go back to 
 Canada and told him that I would never take another 
 penny from my father. He was against that. He 
 argued that it was the least Mr. Greye-Stratton could 
 do for me. When he saw I was determined he pointed 
 out the possibility that I might be Mr. Greye-Stratton's 
 heiress, and that to refuse the allowance might embitter 
 him against me." She flamed for a moment into pas- 
 sion. " As if I wanted anything anything from that 
 man. 
 
 " When he left me I scarcely knew what to do what 
 action to take. I resolved to do nothing. After all, 
 when I was in a colder mood, I could see nothing that I 
 could do. I could not or would not attempt a recon- 
 ciliation with my father. I could not attempt the vindi- 
 cation of my mother. I renounced the allowance and 
 things went on as they were before except that I had 
 my brother. 
 
 " He went back to Canada and the United States. 
 Now and again I had letters from him. He had a hard 
 struggle to make ends meet." 
 
 Hallett nodded mechanically. Something in her tone 
 made him begin to see the brother in a less sympathetic 
 light. He blurted out the question on the spur of the 
 moment. " He bled I mean he wrote to you for 
 money? " 
 
 She winced. " Yes. He wrote to me for money. A 
 little more than a year ago he was in England again." 
 
 [62]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Her words came more slowly. " He has stayed here 
 ever since. He called on Mr. Greye-Stratton and some- 
 thing happened what I don't know. I suppose there 
 were recriminations, but my brother told me little but 
 that he was now entirely without resources. Mr. Greye- 
 Stratton " Hallett noted that she persisted in the 
 formal mode of reference " had cut off all help from 
 him. I don't know if Mr. Menzies has said anything 
 to you about my brother? " She flashed the question 
 at him suddenly. 
 
 " Not a word. This is the first I have heard of his 
 existence." 
 
 " I ask because he questioned me closely about him. 
 M} 7 brother is a hard man, Mr. Hallett, and his outlook 
 on life is different from that of the ordinary person. 
 Circumstances have been against him. He was driven 
 to find a living as he could. I want you to remember 
 that if he was desperate he was driven to it. I helped 
 as far as I could, but he had heavy expenses. He signed 
 my father's name to some cheques." 
 
 " He committed forgery ? " 
 
 " Yes. The cancelled cheques came into the hands of 
 someone else who knew that Dick Errol was my 
 brother. He threatened to pass them on to Scotland 
 Yard and give evidence against Dick unless I paid. 
 Last night there was an appointment made at my flat. 
 The price he demanded was greater than I could pay. 
 When he went I followed him. I knew he had the cheques 
 
 [63]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 on him and I hoped that I might find some way to get 
 them from him. Just before I met you I had appealed 
 to him again. He refused. He had the cheques in his 
 hand. I snatched them, and when I ran into you I 
 passed them to you on the impulse of the moment. That 
 is all, Mr. Hallett." 
 
 " But there is something more," he said ; " something 
 you have not said." 
 
 She shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together. 
 " I have said all I can all I dare. You helped me, Mr. 
 Hallett, and I have told you more even than I have the 
 detectives. It has been a relief " she sighed " to tell 
 anyone." 
 
 Jimmie was silenced. Yet a score of questions trem- 
 bled on his lips. Trained to see the weak points in a 
 narration, he could not fail to realise that there were 
 gaps in the story gaps that needed filling before one 
 could come to full judgment. She had passed no hint 
 of the blackmailer, the man from whom she had the 
 cheques. That he was closely linked with her in some 
 manner he felt confident. 
 
 And then speculation was lost in a rush of pity for 
 the girl who had been so unwittingly dragged into a 
 maelstrom from which he could see no way of escape. 
 That the man Errol was a scoundrel was certain on her 
 own showing. He glimpsed through her reticence the 
 fresh tragedy that his advent had meant to her life. 
 Vainly he tried to see for what purpose she was being 
 
 [64]
 
 used. Of course Errol had been bleeding her, but there 
 was something more. It came to him suddenly. She 
 knew the murderer she had said so. Here was a mo- 
 tive for Errol a motive more powerful than revenge 
 or passion. She would stand to gain a fortune by 
 Greye-Stratton's death and Errol would look to dabbling 
 his fingers in it. 
 
 Yet this was the man for whom she was playing with 
 fire. He was not very clear about English legal methods, 
 but he conceived that in trying to shield him she was 
 laying herself open to suspicion. He had judged Men- 
 zies acutely. If Greye-Stratton's fortune were to come 
 to her that detective would leave nothing undone to be 
 absolutely sure that she had no hand in the crime. 
 Points would arise, actions be revealed that would look 
 black against her by the very reason that she had care- 
 fully concealed them. 
 
 " Miss Greye-Stratton," he said gravely, " forgive 
 me for what I am going to say. I believe it is a crime 
 here to be an accessory after the fact. Do you realise 
 that? Don't you think it would be wiser for your sake 
 for your brother's sake to be candid with the police? 
 Believe me, all that you have told me is sure to be 
 known sooner or later." 
 
 Her face was irresolute. " You think they will find 
 out? That it will be worse because I tried to conceal 
 it?" 
 
 " I do. If you ^will take my advice you will come 
 [65]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 with me to Menzies now. Understand me. I shall not 
 betray a word of our conversation without your per- 
 mission." 
 
 She placed her elbows on the table and rested her 
 chin in her cupped hands, staring across the room in 
 reverie. Presently she stood up. 
 
 " I will think of it," she said. " I will think of it." 
 
 [66]
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 No effective detective organisation is dependent on one 
 man. Co-operation is the essence of all successful de- 
 tective work exactly as it is in the carrying on of any 
 great business. Scotland Yard will throw a score, a 
 hundred, ten thousand men into an enterprise, if need 
 be, and everyone of them from the supreme brain down- 
 wards will have an understudy ready at any moment to 
 pick up a duty abandoned from any cause. No indi- 
 vidual is vital, though some may be valuable. Every 
 fact, every definite conclusion arrived at is on record. 
 
 That is why Weir Menzies found time to cover the 
 case against the pickpockets he had captured the pre- 
 ceding evening and to return to headquarters to smoke 
 a quiet pipe and consider things in general. He stuck 
 his feet on a desk, leaned back in his chair, and began 
 serenely to go through the reports that had accumu- 
 lated from every point where information, however re- 
 mote, might have been gathered on the Greye-Stratton 
 affair. 
 
 He liked to have the salient facts of an investigation 
 clear-cut in his mind. That often saved time in an 
 emergency, as well as being an aid to definite thinking. 
 Presently he began to make his Greek notes with a stubby 
 pencil on the back of an envelope. Some of them would 
 have surprised Hallett had he chanced to see them : 
 
 [67]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " Statement of P. Greye-Stratton clearly in- 
 complete. Knows much more than she says. Cer- 
 tain that Errol has been for many months constant 
 visitor at her flat in Palace Avenue. (Goulds re- 
 port interview with maid at her flat.) Yet she 
 denies that she has spoken to or been in communica- 
 tion with her brother for nearly a year. Lift at- 
 tendant remembers man calling on her the evening 
 of the murder. Left after short interview and im- 
 mediately after she went out hatless in a hurry." 
 
 He commenced a string of question marks across the 
 paper. " I'll see that lift man myself," he murmured, 
 and continued: 
 
 " It was the maid's night out. Lift attendant 
 does not remember having seen man before, but 
 he knows Errol. Description vague. Think pos- 
 sible P. G.-S. alarmed. Must handle cautiously 
 and keep under constant surveillance. If can in- 
 duce Hallett to cultivate her may learn some- 
 thing." 
 
 A sharp tap at the door interrupted him. He 
 snapped an irritable " come in," and, pencil in hand, 
 surveyed frowningly a young man with a badly bruised 
 eye. 
 
 " Well, Jakes," he demanded impatiently ; " who's 
 been decorating you? What's the trouble? " 
 
 [68]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " I got this from Hallett, sir. He " 
 
 Menzies' feet dropped from the table with a crash. 
 " What the blazes ! Some muddle, I'll be bound. 
 Where's Gordon?" 
 
 " Down below, sir. We " 
 
 " Then you've lost the girl? " He smacked an angry 
 fist down on the table. " Oh, damn your explanations. 
 I beg your pardon you confounded idiot." He sprang 
 to the door and roared down the green-painted cor- 
 ridor :" Royal ! Royal!" 
 
 That individual popped out of a door like a rabbit 
 out of a hole. " Come here, Royal. These two cab- 
 bages have let Miss Greye-Stratton dodge 'em. Take 
 Smithers and get along to her flat, No. 74 Palace 
 Avenue, and see if you can pick her up. She may have 
 gone straight home, or she may not. I've got to come 
 there myself presently, but I'll hear what this dough- 
 witted jackass has got to say." 
 
 Ordinarily Menzies was courteous to his underlings, 
 but when anything like stupidity interfered with his 
 plans he let himself go. " They remembered it and 
 it's better than putting 'em on the M. R.," he explained 
 once to a colleague, which was his way of saying that he 
 preferred a few hot words to putting the culprits on the 
 morning report for judgment and punishment. " Only 
 I sometimes wish that I didn't swear so much at them." 
 
 Royal had slipped away to carry out his instructions 
 with the swiftness of the well-trained man. Menzies 
 
 [69]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 turned with a snarl to the young detective, who was 
 trembling nervously and as ill at ease- as any young 
 clerk " carpeted " before his departmental chief for the 
 first time. 
 
 " Let's have it," he said shortly. 
 
 The young man squared his shoulders. " They 
 lunched at Duke's in Piccadilly, sir. I went in with 
 them but could not get near enough to hear what was 
 said. The lady did most of the talking. When they 
 came out they walked towards Regent Street. I was 
 close behind. Gordon about twenty paces behind me. 
 They turned into Regent Street and then sharp back 
 along Jermyn Street. When they reached St. James 
 Street he said something to her and came back towards 
 me. I would have passed him, but he caught me by 
 the shoulder and asked what I meant by molesting a 
 lady. 
 
 " I pulled myself free and told him I was a police 
 officer. She had turned the corner by this time. I 
 would have gone on, but he pulled me back again, and 
 Gordon came up " 
 
 " And stopped to see what the matter was instead of 
 going straight on," commented Menzies bitterly. " I 
 know. Go on." 
 
 " He stopped to help me. Mr. Hallett was giving 
 me a fair rough house. It took the two of us to tackle 
 him properly. He kept it up for about three minutes 
 and then gave in." 
 
 [70]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " And by that time the girl might have been in Tim- 
 buctoo. He put up a plant on you and you both fell 
 into it." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Did you arrest him? " 
 
 " No. We thought it ought to be reported to you 
 before we did anything." 
 
 " That's the only gleam of common sense you showed 
 in the whole business. Go away. I'll think it over. 
 And the next time you're shadowing, young man, re- 
 member you've got to stick if the heavens fall you've 
 got to stick." 
 
 He whistled softly to himself when the other had 
 gone. " I thought as much. She's put the comether 
 on him and Hallett is a brainy man." 
 
 He revolved the matter steadily in his mind as he 
 walked to Palace Avenue. Hallett, if he could be per- 
 suaded, would be a valuable ally in discovering what 
 information Peggy Greye-Stratton had withheld. Men- 
 zies used the instruments to his hands; and there was 
 no reason why he should have scruples. If he had 
 troubled at all to formulate the ethics of the question 
 he might have argued that when a crime was committed 
 a person who deliberately withheld or evaded giving 
 information could not fairly object to any means 
 adopted to break her taciturnity. That the role he 
 proposed allotting to Hallett was actually that of a 
 
 [71]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 spy did not concern him. That would be Hallett's 
 own affair if he accepted the commission. 
 
 Royal appeared out of nowhere as he neared the 
 corner of Palace Avenue. " Not come back yet," he 
 reported laconically. 
 
 " Well, there's plenty of time yet," said Menzies 
 with a resignation that had been conspicuously absent 
 in his talk with the delinquent officer. " She's bound 
 to turn up. You'd better 'phone for Gould to 
 relieve you and get down to the court to charge 
 Smith." 
 
 He strolled on to the block of flats, sent his card in 
 to the manager in a sealed envelope, briefly explained 
 as much of his errand as was necessary, and was pres- 
 ently confronted with a weedy, pale-faced youth who 
 nervously twisted his cap in his hands as the detective 
 questioned him. His story varied nothing from the 
 statement Gould had put in. 
 
 " Now don't get flustered, old chap," said Menzies 
 with that suave air he knew so well how to assume. 
 " Are you sure you wouldn't know the man again? Try 
 and think for a moment. Was he tall or short, fat or 
 thin?" 
 
 " Just an ordinary-looking man," said the attendant. 
 " I didn't pay any notice." 
 
 " No, of course not. Do you remember if he had a 
 beard or moustache, or was he clean-shaven?" 
 
 The youth wrinkled his brows, and after a moment's 
 [72]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 thought shook his head. " Couldn't say, sir. I rather 
 believe he was clean-shaven." 
 
 It was hopeless to try to extract a description from 
 him. Menzies had expected as much. Observation is not 
 often a natural gift ; it is a matter of training, and many 
 and laborious are the hours spent in teaching recruits to 
 the C. I. D. staff the art. He switched to another point. 
 
 " When the man came out of her flat did he seem in 
 a hurry? " 
 
 " No, sir, not particularly. He rang for the lift." 
 
 " Didn't say anything? " 
 
 " Not to me. At least he had something in his hand. 
 He dropped it and when it rolled down the shaft he 
 swore. I offered to go and get it, but he said it didn't 
 matter it was only a halfpenny." 
 
 " H'm ! " Menzies stuck his thumbs in the armholes 
 of his waistcoat and tapped his toe on the floor. " You 
 went and made sure it was only a halfpenny afterwards, 
 of course." 
 
 The man's eyes had hitherto not met his. Now they 
 were fixed boldly on his face. " No," he declared. " I 
 didn't think it worth while." 
 
 A man may fail to look one in the face and be per- 
 fectly honest and truthful. But when such a man does 
 do so it is because he has become conscious that an 
 averted gaze may arouse suspicion. Menzies smiled 
 under his moustache and stretched out a hand. " Where 
 is it? " he added quietly. " Give it to me." 
 
 [73]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 The lift attendant flushed and drew back. The 
 directness of the demand had disconcerted him. " I 
 don't know what you mean," he said. " I haven't got 
 anything." 
 
 "That so?" said Menzies smilingly. And then, 
 with a swift change of voice : " Now, sonny, don't let's 
 have any monkey business. You can't play with me." 
 
 Reluctantly, as though hypnotised, the attendant 
 thrust two fingers into his waistcoat pocket, slowly drew 
 something out, and placed it in the detective's hand. 
 
 It was a plain, heavy circlet of gold a wedding ring !
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 JIMMIE HALLETT had run into Weir Menzies in the 
 police court corridor after the magistrate had formally 
 remanded " William Smith." The detective threw up 
 his hands quickly in the attitude of one parrying a 
 blow. 
 
 " Don't hit me, Mr. Hallett," he implored. " I've got 
 a weak heart." 
 
 Jimmie grinned a little shamefacedly. He had not 
 been quite sure how the detective chief would take the 
 assault on the shadowers of Miss Greye-Stratton. He 
 brazened it out. " Well, what are you going to do 
 about it? " he demanded. 
 
 Menzies caught him through the arm and pulled him, 
 into a small room set apart for consultations between 
 lawyers and clients. " I suppose you know that men 
 have got six months for less than you did this after- 
 noon. You can't knock police officers about with im- 
 punity, you know." 
 
 There was an underlying current of seriousness in 
 his jocular tone which Jimmie could not fail to per- 
 ceive. He ran his hand through his hair. " I'll see 
 you," he said, adopting the language of the poker table. 
 " What are you driving at? " 
 
 " This." The detective laid a thick forefinger on the 
 palm of his left hand. " You've got sense, Mr. Hallett, 
 
 [75]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 and you've had experience. Now I've gone into your 
 credentials and I believe you're straight. But I'm not 
 going to stand for any funny business. I'm investigat- 
 ing a case of murder and anyone that stands in the way 
 is liable to get hurt. Now don't interrupt. Let me 
 finish. I don't know whether you were putting up a 
 grand-stand play after lunch to win the girl's confidence 
 or if she talked you over." 
 
 He paused enquiringly. Hallett pressed his lips to- 
 gether firmly. " Go on," he said. 
 
 " Right. You were butted into this at the start and 
 I've tried to treat you fairly. Don't you forget mur- 
 der's a dirty thing, however you look at it. I don't say 
 Miss Greye-Stratton's not straight, but she knows a 
 deuce of a sight more than she ought to or than she's 
 telling us. She's got something up her sleeve. She's 
 no fool, for all her pretty face. She seems to have taken 
 a fancy to you. Do you know why ? " 
 
 The other shook his head, although he had a very 
 good idea what Menzies was going to say. His face 
 was impassive. 
 
 " For the same reason that the man we've got below 
 tried to get you this morning. You're an important 
 witness. She wants to shut your mouth and to find out 
 how much you really do know." 
 
 Jimmie laughed outright. " You're wrong there. 
 She's not asked me a single question. All the talking 
 was on her side." 
 
 [76]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Then he realised that he had fallen into a trap. 
 Not that Menzies gave any obvious indication of tri- 
 umph. He merely stroked his moustache serenely. 
 " Well, I don't know that I'm far wrong. She wouldn't 
 be too quick. So she talked, did she? What did she 
 say?" 
 
 The young man was not to be caught off guard a 
 second time. " It will all be stale to you. She repeated 
 what she said she had already told you." 
 
 " All the same, there may be something new," per- 
 sisted the detective. " Let's have it." 
 
 " If you like to let me have a look at her statement 
 I'll tell you if there's anything fresh I can add," parried 
 Jimmie. 
 
 Menzies raised his eyebrows. " I think I see," he 
 said. " I'd consider this a lot if I were you. Why, man, 
 can't you see she's playing with you. Confidence for 
 confidence is an old trick. She has known you a matter 
 of hours, and here she is pitching a tale to you as 
 though you were an intimate friend. I trust you you 
 trust me ! That's what it comes to. Now why not play 
 our game instead of hers. If she's innocent you won't 
 hurt her, but if she's got her pretty fingers in the 
 tar " 
 
 Hallett became conscious of a smouldering rage at the 
 innuendo of the comfortable, ruddy-faced detective. He 
 did not realise that he was being deliberately provoked 
 
 [77]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 for a purpose. Menzies wanted to discover without 
 doubt his attitude to the girl. 
 
 " Cut it out," he advised curtly. And then more 
 quietly: "I think you entirely misjudge the lady. If 
 I've only known her for a few hours, I guess I'm a better 
 judge of her type than you." 
 
 " Bearings a bit hot, eh? " smiled Menzies. " It's no 
 good getting angry with me. I'm clumsy, but I mean 
 well. I hate to see a man stepping into trouble. And 
 you'll find trouble on your hands pretty soon, believe 
 me. If I were you I think I'd carry a life-preserver 
 or advertise that you didn't see the man who killed 
 Greye-Stratton." 
 
 Hallett had taken a quick turn or two about the 
 room, his hands thrust deep in his trousers pockets. He 
 came to a sudden halt. " What do you mean by that? " 
 
 Weir Menzies had a well-worn briar pipe in one hand 
 and a tobacco pouch in the other. He methodically 
 filled the pipe before answering. " Only from what I 
 have gathered the lady's in with a tough mob. I'll know 
 more about 'em by to-morrow, but I don't want you 
 laid out before I've picked up all the ends. I've warned 
 you. You must do as you like. Only don't go believ- 
 ing she's a little blue-eyed saint, that's all." 
 
 Jimmie's temper, held in till now, continued to rise. 
 Whether it was the implication that he was being made 
 Miss Greye-Stratton's cats-paw, or the suggestion that 
 the radiant girl was the willing accomplice of a gang 
 
 [78]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 of criminals, he did not stop to analyse. He was wroth 
 with Menzies because he did not know by intuition what 
 was plain to him that if she was acting a part it was 
 for the sake of someone else. He regretted now that 
 he was bound not to divulge anything she had told him. 
 
 " I guess you're a fool, Menzies," he sneered. 
 " You're barking up the wrong tree." 
 
 Menzies took the handle of the door. " You think so, 
 do you? Well, we'll let it go at that." He swung the 
 door open. " I suppose the lady told you she was 
 married? " 
 
 He spoke casually as though by an after-thought, 
 but he was quick to observe the change that passed over 
 Jimmie's face. " That's a lie," he blurted out. 
 " You've got something at the back of your head." 
 
 The detective swung the door to again and took some- 
 thing from his pocket. " Look at that," he said, and 
 smoothed a sheet of paper before Hallett's eyes. 
 
 Jimmie read it over twice, unable at first to com- 
 pletely grasp its significance. It was an attested copy 
 of a marriage certificate between Peggy Greye-Stratton 
 and Stewart Reader Ling. 
 
 " She didn't tell you about this," went on the de- 
 tective levelly. " That may alter your idea that she 
 intends to play straight with you." 
 
 Jimmie was struggling with a tangle of thoughts. 
 " Who is Ling? " he demanded. 
 
 " A crook of the crookedest. He ran a wholesale fac- 
 
 [79]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 tory for forged currency notes in the United States 
 ten years ago. That was broken up and he did five 
 years in Sing Sing. He has been at the back of a lottery 
 swindle since he came out and Lord knows what else. 
 We'd lost sight of him till I happened to get hold of 
 this copy. That's the kind of man who's the husband 
 of Miss Greye-Stratton." 
 
 " How did you find this out? " 
 
 Menzies puffed reflectively. He had no intention of 
 completely exposing his hand. He was certain that 
 Peggy Greye-Stratton was the woman who had given 
 Hallett the cheques and that the latter had deliberately 
 refrained from identifying her. Moreover, he was also 
 convinced that she had told the young man something 
 at lunch, though whether she was, as he affected to be- 
 lieve, using him as a tool he was not in his own mind 
 certain. The more he considered the more he felt that 
 she held the key to the mystery if only she could be 
 induced to speak. With him, with any official of police, 
 she would be on her guard. Hallett, if he could be per- 
 suaded, was the one man who might win her confidence 
 without exciting suspicion. So long as his sympathies 
 remained with her he was unlikely to be persuaded. 
 Therefore, if possible, his sympathies had to be 
 alienated. 
 
 " Just common sense," growled Menzies, " ordinary 
 common sense. I learned that she had a wedding-ring 
 though she didn't wear it sent up to Somerset 
 
 [80]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 House to inspect the registry of marriages, and got this 
 half an hour ago." He laid a hand gently on the 
 young man's shoulder. " Better do as I advise. Any- 
 way, take care of yourself." 
 
 He did not wait for an answer, but moved softly out 
 of the room. He was wise enough to know when to 
 stop. To say more might be to spoil things. Hallett 
 might safely be left to his own reflections. 
 
 Hallett was a man whose brain as a rule worked 
 very clearly. But now he was confused, and he strove 
 vainly to reconcile reason with inclination. It seemed 
 ages since the episode of the fog, years since he had 
 looked into the pale oval of Peggy Greye-Stratton's 
 face at lunch. Spite of the convincing proof of the 
 marriage certificate, he could not think of her as a mar- 
 ried woman. Anyway, he told himself, if Menzies was 
 right in that it did not follow that all his inferences were 
 right. He had felt the ring of honesty in the story she 
 had told him. And yet the idea of the detective was 
 plausible enough. He could see where things dove- 
 tailed. If she were stringing him she had been acute 
 enough to tell him a series of half-truths. If she were 
 a willing accomplice, as Menzies supposed, there was 
 reason enough why she should mislead him. He had 
 met female adventuresses before pretty, cultivated 
 women, some of them but he had not been impressed 
 by them as he had been by her. But then the circum- 
 stances were different. 
 
 [81]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 He pondered the matter as he drove back to his 
 hotel. Suppose he did accept Menzies' version and 
 he admitted to himself that there was a considerable 
 weight of probability in that point of view. He could 
 not see, however, why in that event he should become 
 an unpaid amateur detective. The thought of spying 
 on Peggy Greye-Stratton, adventuress or not, was en- 
 tirely distasteful to him. He had no interest in the 
 investigation. He had been dragged into the affair 
 entirely by accident. Let the police do their work 
 themselves. 
 
 It was in this mood that he arrived at his hotel and 
 repulsed the newspaper men who were still blockading 
 the entrance. He avoided the public rooms. He wanted 
 to be alone. He went up to his private sitting-room. 
 
 There it was that a note was brought to him. He 
 tore it open and glanced at it mechanically. But at 
 once his interest was aroused. It had been scribbled 
 in pencil, apparently in haste : 
 
 " I am in trouble. For God's sake come and 
 help me. I don't know to whom else to appeal. 
 Call at 140 Ludford Road, Brixton, as soon as 
 you can, but alone. Ask for me." 
 
 There was no signature, but Hallett needed none. 
 He had never seen Peggy Greye-Stratton's writing, but 
 the small, neat characters were beyond doubt to him. 
 
 [82]
 
 His resolution to stand aside was already being put to 
 the test. He held the note in his hand while he recalled 
 Menzies' warnings. He was an important witness. Al- 
 ready one attempt had been made to secure his silence. 
 Was this a trap? 
 
 Yet, on the other hand, if the girl was being used 
 to secure his silence, she could not know that he had 
 changed his decision to stand by her. She must sup- 
 pose the conversation at lunch would have made her 
 believe that he had allied himself on her side. No, 
 the letter was certainly genuine. 
 
 He impressed the address on his memory, and tearing 
 the letter into little bits, dropped them into the waste- 
 paper basket. Then he searched in his kit-bag till he 
 found, at the bottom, a small automatic revolver and a 
 packet of cartridges. He loaded the weapon carefully 
 and dropped it in his jacket pocket. 
 
 He had no idea where Brixton was, but a study of 
 a street map gave him its location. He did not want 
 to have to ask questions. He had come to have too 
 much respect for Menzies' methods in following up a 
 trail for that. For the same reason, when he went out 
 into the Strand he turned abruptly in his walk once or 
 twice. 
 
 The useful little book of maps issued by the Under- 
 ground railways helped him on his next course. He 
 went into a tube station and booked for Hampstead. At 
 Leicester Square he changed for Piccadilly Circus. 
 
 [83]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 There he changed for Kennington Oval. By the time 
 he emerged into the sunlight he was satisfied that if 
 there had been any shadowers on his trail he had thrown 
 them off. 
 
 He had selected the Oval Station because the map 
 had shown him that the district lay on the verge of 
 Brixton. He was about to hail a taxi when his eye 
 caught the label on one of the big electric cars swing- 
 ing by. He jumped aboard. 
 
 Ludford Road proved to be a quiet road of small 
 houses buried away at the back of Brixton Town Hall. 
 It was a street that might very well have been inhab- 
 ited solely by moderate salaried city clerks retired, 
 unobtrusive, and respectable semi-detached villas with 
 neat squares of gardens behind iron railings. It was 
 no street of mystery. 
 
 Hallett walked to the door of No. 140 and pressed 
 the bell. It opened promptly, revealing a plump, pleas- 
 ant-faced little woman with shrewd eyes and a strong 
 mouth. Jimmie, whose right hand had been gripped 
 round the automatic in his jacket pocket, removed it 
 hurriedly and lifted his hat. 
 
 " I wish to see Miss Olney, if I may," he said. 
 
 The woman shook her head. " You have made a mis- 
 take. There's no one of that name lives here," she 
 said, and Jimmie's last shred of suspicion vanished. If 
 the note had been sent for a trap there was evidently 
 no anxiety for him to walk into it. 
 
 [84]
 
 " Pardon me. Miss Greye-Stratton, I should have 
 said. My name is Hallett." 
 
 She smiled and flung the door wide. " Oh, yes. She 
 is expecting you. Will you come in? " 
 
 Jimmie passed into the narrow little hall and the 
 door shut. 
 
 [85]
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 WITH the satisfied feeling of a man who knew he had 
 earned his salary, Weir Menzies betook himself home- 
 wards. As he boarded the Tooting electric car at the 
 corner of Westminster Bridge he automatically shut 
 out from his mind all thought of Greye-Stratton. He 
 had ceased to be Weir Menzies, chief inspector of the 
 Criminal Investigation Department. He was Weir 
 Menzies, Esq., of Magersfontein Road, Upper Tooting, 
 who, like other gentlemen of business, left his business 
 worries behind him at the office. 
 
 He ate his dinner, while Mrs. Menzies, a motherly 
 little woman who never asked questions, retailed the 
 latest domestic gossip. He added his own quota. He 
 was afraid that Browns, the new butcher in the High 
 Street, was not doing too well. As he pushed his chair 
 back and lit a cigar, Mrs. Menzies seized the oppor- 
 tunity to tell of a calamity. 
 
 " Bruin's been in mischief. He dug a big hole under 
 that Captain Hayward rose today." 
 
 This news roused Menzies. He kicked off his slip- 
 pers and began relacing his boots. " That da shed 
 dog. I'll bet he's ruined it. We'll have to chain him 
 up. Ring the bell and ask Nellie for a candle, will you, 
 dear? " 
 
 Candle in hand, he led the way to the garden, mut- 
 [86]
 
 tering discontentedly as he cast its glow on the damage. 
 He raised his voice. " Bruin, here, Bruin," and a heavy 
 bobtailed sheep dog came lumbering over the lawn. 
 Weir Menzies regarded him sternly and pointed an ac- 
 cusing finger at the hole. " What do you mean by 
 that?" he demanded. "You wicked, wicked dog." 
 Bruin sprawled with downcast head, his whole attitude 
 one of penitence and shame. "Where's the whip?" 
 asked Menzies. " Go fetch it." 
 
 Reluctantly, with slow step like a boy sent by his 
 school-master for a cane, Bruin recrossed the lawn, re- 
 turning in a few seconds with a dog whip between his 
 teeth. He cowered while Menzies administered a couple 
 of light blows blows so light that they were rather 
 symbolic of disgrace than actual punishment. His 
 master slipped the whip into his pocket. " Now go and 
 see that the house is safe." 
 
 The dog, now that retribution was over, slipped 
 away. Detectives, for all their profession, are no more 
 immune from burglary than ordinary mortals, but Men- 
 zies had little fear of his house being looted while Bruin 
 was abroad. To and fro over the house he trotted, 
 pushing open doors pr whining till they were opened by 
 the maid, and inspecting windows and fastenings with 
 an intelligence almost uncanny. By the time he had 
 finished his inspection Menzies was in his own room. 
 The dog trotted in, sat on his haunches, and made a low 
 crooning noise in his throat. 
 
 [87]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " All correct, eh? " said Menzies. " Good dog. Go 
 to bed." 
 
 He himself was asleep almost as soon as his head 
 touched the pillow. Yet it seemed to him that he had 
 not been asleep five minutes when the deep boom of the 
 dog's bark and an insistent ringing of the bell aroused 
 him. He looked at his watch as he slipped out of bed. 
 It was four o'clock. He had slept seven hours. 
 
 He shivered as he shuffled downstairs in his slippers 
 and opened the door. " Why, it's you, Congreve," he 
 exclaimed. " What the devil is the matter? Come in." 
 
 Detective-Sergeant Congreve (graded first-class at 
 headquarters) was too wise a man to say anything at 
 an open door with a taxi-driver within earshot. He fol- 
 lowed his chief into the dining-room and Menzies 
 switched on the light. " The lady's come back," he in- 
 terrogated. 
 
 " No, sir. I wouldn't have worried you for that. 
 It's Hallett. He's gone, too." 
 
 Menzies muttered a little comminatory service in a 
 low voice, because Mrs. Menzies was probably awake. 
 " That's awkward," he said at last. " I ought to have 
 him kept under observation, but I guessed I could rely 
 on the hotel people to let us know. I didn't want to 
 have to arrest him for putting any more of our men 
 on the sick list, but I wish I'd taken a chance now. 
 He'd have been safer for us and safer for himself under 
 lock and key. What's the point ? " 
 
 [88]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " He came back yesterday afternoon, went to his 
 room, found a note waiting him, and went out without 
 saying anything. He has not come back. The hotel 
 people rang me up an hour ago and I went round there. 
 I found the note." He shook an envelope on to the 
 table and a shower of torn fragments dropped. " I 
 didn't wait to put it together. I came straight on here." 
 
 The chief inspector became unpleasantly conscious 
 that his pyjamas were an inadequate protection against 
 the bite of the cold. " I suppose this means that I've 
 got to turn out," he grumbled. " I seem to get all 
 the jobs where there's no rest. It's enough to make 
 a man turn it up and take a cottage in the country. 
 Have a go at that note, Congreve, like a good chap, 
 while I go and get some clothes on." 
 
 By the time he was dressed Congreve had the note 
 ready for him. 
 
 " It looks as if the girl had got him," he commented 
 as he passed the copy over to the chief inspector. 
 " Anyway, there's an address." 
 
 Menzies laid the copy down on the table. *' That's 
 something," he agreed cautiously. " But it looks to me 
 as though we're right up against it, old man: Some- 
 body'll have to stand from under when the thud comes. 
 What do you make of it ? " 
 
 " Empty house, likely," said Congreve laconically. 
 " They've shut Hallett's mouth. If you're right about 
 Errol, Ling & Co., sir, they'll not stand on ceremony. 
 
 [89]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 They're up to their necks already. We'll find a dead 
 man in Ludford Road. They won't let Hallett do any 
 talking." 
 
 He spoke in the matter-of-fact way in which a sur- 
 geon might contemplate the result of a dangerous opera- 
 tion not with the shudder with which the average man 
 would speak of a cold-blooded murder. The case with 
 which they were dealing concerned men who he believed 
 would be desperate now that one life had been sacrificed 
 in their efforts to cover their trail. 
 
 " I don't know," said Menzies thoughtfully. " They 
 might go to extremes if they were forced, but they won't 
 make the pace too hot. We've got nothing concrete 
 against 'em yet nothing even to suggest that one of 
 them was near Linstone Terrace Gardens when the old 
 man was killed. You bet they'll have alibis all right, 
 all right. If we could lay our fingers on 'em this min- 
 ute they'd brazen it out." 
 
 " You see," he went on, " unless we prove these other 
 people accessories there is only one person whose neck 
 is in jeopardy. That's the actual murderer. He prob- 
 ably wouldn't object to save himself by another murder. 
 But the others are not going to that length if they can 
 help it. They intend, I imagine, to try and bottle him 
 up till Smith is discharged and the whole boiling of 
 them make a clean get-away." 
 
 " But," objected Congreve, " Royal's evidence alone 
 will convict the man." 
 
 [90]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " Maybe they don't understand that," retorted Men- 
 zies. " Anyway we won't worry yet. I'm going on to 
 Ludford Road. I shall want you to go back and swear 
 out a search-warrant in case it's wanted. Also have 
 that note properly done up and photographed. You 
 might get a paper merchant to examine a piece of the 
 paper. There's just a chance we might find out when 
 it was bought and who bought it. You can get an all- 
 night tramcar at the end of the road. Leave the taxi 
 for me. I'll have to change again." 
 
 An hour later a plump, ruddy-faced man, smoking a 
 clay pipe, and with his hands thrust deep in his trousers 
 pockets, slouched along Ludford Road. The loosened 
 shoulders, the shambling gait, the unpolished down-at- 
 heels boots (one of them laced with string), all told of 
 the practical vagrant. Yet Weir Menzies had not 
 disguised himself in the sense that disguise would be 
 understood by those whose knowledge of Scotland Yard 
 is derived from books and newspapers. 
 
 His face was untouched by grease-paint, he wore no 
 wig nor false beard. He was just Weir Menzies as he 
 might have been if fortune had made him a tramp. Yet 
 he bore little superficial resemblance to the Weir Men- 
 zies, Esq., churchwarden of All Saints, Upper Tooting, 
 or the Mr. Weir Menzies, chief inspector of the Crim- 
 inal Investigation Department. His hair had been 
 rubbed up until it looked as if it had not seen brush or 
 comb for a month, and was surmounted by a battered 
 
 [91]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Trilby hat. He had rubbed his hands on a doormat 
 and then on his face to prevent any suspicion of unnat- 
 ural cleanliness. His neat moustache had been combed 
 out till it hung down ragged and bristly. His clothes 
 were shabby and no two garments matched. They 
 might have been given him at different times by chari- 
 table householders. 
 
 There was nothing which could go astray and betray 
 that he had assumed a character. Indeed, any accident 
 to clothes or person would but increase the disreputa- 
 bility of his looks. 
 
 Twice he shuffled up and down the street, the second 
 time meeting a policeman, who paused and without say- 
 ing anything watched him out of sight. The two met 
 again a quarter of an hour later and this time the con- 
 stable was not so forbearing. He turned his bull's-eye 
 full on the tramp and surveyed him up and down. It 
 was at the back of his mind that he might have a 
 charge " loitering with intent to commit a felony." 
 
 " What's the game, Isaacstein? What are you hang- 
 ing around for? " he demanded. And because he had 
 been trained not to take risks, his hand gripped the 
 greasy collar of the nondescript and administered a 
 slight warning shake. 
 
 One hundred and eighty pounds of trained policeman 
 took the pavement with a thud. He sat up ruefully and 
 with wrath. One does not expect a rickety, middle-aged 
 tramp to have a working knowledge of ju-jitsu. And 
 
 [92]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 it astonished him still more that his assailant remained 
 instead of taking advantage of the opportunity and 
 making a dash for freedom. 
 
 " All right," he growled and advanced cautiously. 
 
 " Don't make a fool of yourself, my man," said 
 the tramp authoritatively. " I'm C. I. Walk on 
 quietly to the corner and I'll show you my warrant 
 card." 
 
 The constable hesitated. He was young and this 
 was beyond his experience. But the authority of the 
 voice shook him and he obeyed the order. Within five 
 minutes he learned how near he had been to committing 
 a bad mistake. 
 
 " I'm sorry, sir," he apologised. " I didn't know." 
 
 " That's all right," said Menzies. " Of course you 
 didn't. I'm not blaming you. Now you hang on to 
 this corner for half an hour. I'll be responsible to your 
 superiors. Just stand here and keep your eyes and ears 
 open in case I should want you." 
 
 He had straightened up during the conversation, but 
 now he became again the shambling hobo. A clock 
 somewhere had just chimed six, and he judged that there 
 might be a chance to commence operations. He moved 
 furtively up to the door of number one hundred and 
 forty and rang the bell. Twice he had to repeat the 
 summons before there was any movement within. Then 
 a window was flung up above and a woman's voice de- 
 manded the business of the intruder. 
 
 [93]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Menzies' answer was to press the bell again. He had 
 no very definite plan in his mind. His was merely a 
 reconnoitring expedition. He wanted the door opened 
 and had no intention of carrying on a conversation with 
 the lady upstairs, whoever she was, at the top of his 
 voice. He was shielded from her sight by the porch 
 and he did not offer to step out. 
 
 The window closed with a bang and there were sounds 
 of someone moving. Presently the door opened, and 
 the pleasant-faced woman who had met Hallett con- 
 fronted the detective. 
 
 " 'Ave you got a bite you could spare a pore man, 
 lidy," he whined. " I've been walkin' all night an' 
 nothin' 'as passed my lips since yesterday." 
 
 The pleasant-faced lady frowned. She had a dogged 
 chin and a wide mouth and was quite obviously not the 
 sort of person to be played with. " I've got nothing 
 for you," she snapped, perhaps with excusable vicious- 
 ness for one who had been dragged out of bed by a 
 beggar. She flung the door to forcefully. Menzies' 
 foot, however, was a shade the quicker as he thrust it 
 in the opening. 
 
 " Why, Gwennie," he said smilingly, in his natural 
 voice ; " this is a nice welcome for an old friend. " Don't 
 you remember me? I'm Weir Menzies." 
 
 She gave a quick exclamation and pulled the door 
 back. Her face did not for a moment bear any very 
 noticeable expression of delight at the reunion. That, 
 
 [94]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 however, was only for a second. The next instant she 
 had thrust out her hand with a bright smile. 
 
 " Why, so it is. Who'd have thought of seeing you 
 here and in a rig like that. Come right in, Mr. Men- 
 zies. I am glad to see you." 
 
 " After you, Gwennie," said Menzies politely but 
 firmly. " Lead the way. Never mind the door. I'll 
 shut it." 
 
 [95]
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 GWENNIE LYNE was a lady with a reputation or with- 
 out one. It depended on the point of view. As far back 
 as Menzies could remember she had been a notable figure 
 in the little coterie of master criminals who know no 
 nation and to whom the world is a hunting ground. 
 Long, long ago, in the days when bank robbery in the 
 United States had been a profitable pastime, she had 
 organised and even played an executive part in exploits 
 any one of which ought to have made her fortune. 
 
 Menzies knew her record almost by heart, for she 
 was one of the very few " Classic " criminals who 
 brought to bear on an undertaking an ingenuity, enter- 
 prise, and audacity that had won her through in a score 
 of tight places. At ten years of age she had assisted 
 her mother to pick pockets in Philadelphia. At twenty 
 she had married Jim Lyne, bank burglar and gunman. 
 At twenty-one she had effected a particularly daring 
 escape from Sing Sing. At twenty-five she had held 
 a pistol to a watchman's head at a bank in New Jersey 
 while her companions ransacked the vaults. At thirty 
 she had probably more experience in every grade of 
 professional crime short of murder, which is not pro- 
 fessional crime than any person of her own age, male 
 or female. Opportunely enough, her husband, always 
 too much of a swashbuckler for his trade, was shot in 
 
 [96]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 a drunken brawl in Wisconsin at this time. Thereafter 
 she held her way undisputed, always ready to 
 become a partner in any department of the higher 
 walks of crime, from receiving, to organising a bogus 
 bank. 
 
 She had of course met with checks. There were few 
 civilised countries where she had not tasted prison for 
 longer or shorter periods. All that was in the day's 
 work. 
 
 It is a myth that there is a distinctive criminal physi- 
 ognomy. Fifty years or more of crime had left 
 Gwennie Lyne untouched by any outward mark. Hers 
 was a face which none could dream of distrusting on 
 sight she had been a handsome and was still a comely 
 woman. The mouth was perhaps a trifle wide and it 
 curved downwards at the edges. Her hazel eyes were 
 shrewd, but with the apparent shrewdness of years, not 
 the cunning of the outcast. She spoke softly, with a 
 slight drawl, but her voice was the voice of a cultivated 
 woman. 
 
 Menzies had recognised her with something of a thrill. 
 Her presence in the combination against him was sin- 
 gularly unwelcome, for he knew her fertility of resource 
 and her daring. On the other hand, the mere fact that 
 he knew she was with the other side was something 
 gained. 
 
 His right hand dropped to his trousers pocket as he 
 followed her, to make sure that the little baton he had 
 
 [97]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 placed there before leaving home was in place. He 
 rarely carried a pistol for fear that he might be tempted 
 to use it before it was absolutely necessary. 
 
 She took him into one of the two small front rooms 
 of the house and pulled up the blinds to admit the now 
 growing daylight. He observed " The Stag at Bay " 
 and a " View of Naples " on the vivid yellowish-green 
 wall-paper, and it needed not the faded, worn horsehair 
 Victorian furniture, the pile of books on a table in the 
 window, to tell him that Gwennie had had no hand in 
 furnishing the house. She had the virtue of taste, at 
 any rate, and probably the place had been taken already 
 furnished and for a purpose. He wondered whether 
 its purpose had been entirely fulfilled or not. 
 
 " Sit you down, Mr. Menzies," she said briskly. " It's 
 early hours for a call, but I guess you've got some reason 
 at the back of your head. You'll have some breakfast. 
 I'll go and see about it and make myself tidy." 
 
 The detective's broad figure blocked the doorway. He 
 smilingly shook his head and with one hand behind him 
 felt for the key. There was none in the lock. He jerked 
 a chair towards him with his foot, placed it against the 
 door, and sat down. 
 
 " No breakfast for me, Gwennie, thank you. And you 
 look very charming as you are. Suppose we talk." 
 
 She made a graceful gesture of resignation and sat 
 down, her hands in her lap. " I guess I wouldn't poison 
 you," she said. 
 
 [98]
 
 "Aren't you a deportee, Gwennie? " countered the 
 man. " Surely my memory isn't playing me tricks. 
 Wasn't an order of deportation made against you let 
 me see six years ago now? You will remember a dia- 
 mond tiara in Bond Street." 
 
 She faced him placidly. " You've got a good memory. 
 What are you going to do about it? " 
 
 " Mind if I smoke? " he asked. " Oh, nothing much. 
 I needn't tell a lady of your experience it would have 
 been wiser to stay where you belong." 
 
 " See Section 4, Vagrancy Act, 1824," she laughed. 
 " That's it, isn't it. Oh, I've been there before. You 
 can't alarm me any by talking." And Menzies knew 
 the astute old lady was trying to make him lose his 
 temper. 
 
 He lifted his clay pipe from his lips. " I've always 
 admired your talents, Gwennie " she rose and swept 
 him a mo'cking curtesy " and we've been pretty good 
 pals business apart." 
 
 " Lord bless the man," she cried. " Is this a pro- 
 posal. I do believe he's making love to me." She shook 
 a well-manicured finger at him. " I warn you I might 
 accept you." 
 
 He grinned appreciatively at the thrust but shook his 
 head reprovingly. " I'm out for business, Gwennie. 
 Let's cut out the funny business and get down to hard 
 tacks. If you won't listen I'll have to take you along, 
 that's all." 
 
 [99]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " And if I do? " she interpolated quickly. 
 
 " I'm making no bargains. Will you sit tight? " 
 
 " I'll be as good as gold," she promised, a demure 
 half smile still lurking about her lips. 
 
 Menzies was too old a hand to make the mistake of 
 despising such an antagonist. The woman knew every 
 trick in the game as well as he did. An experience that 
 went back to the cradle, and a cunning and brain power 
 by which the organised detective forces of the world had 
 often been defeated, had placed her chief among the 
 very few criminals who can plan and successfully carry 
 out great coups. On his side, however, Menzies had one 
 factor on which he placed hopes. There is no such thing 
 as honour among thieves. Sometimes there is a com- 
 munity of interest which forces them to keep faith one 
 with another, but very rarely will one run a risk to save 
 another. The detective had to stir Gwennie to alarm for 
 her own safety but whether she would allow herself to 
 be alarmed or not was a doubt in his mind. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Hallett? " he asked bluntly. 
 
 If a person, ignorant of the elementary principles of 
 arithmetic, was suddenly asked to solve a problem in 
 algebra he might have looked as Gwennie did then. Her 
 air of bewilderment was an education. Had Menzies 
 been less sure of his ground even he might have been 
 deluded. She stared at him blankly. " Mr. Hallett? " 
 she repeated. " I never heard of him." 
 
 The man's face set grimly and his eyes grew hard. 
 [100]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " Or of Reader Ling, or of Errol, or Miss Greye- 
 Stratton, or William Smith?" he demanded. 
 
 " I know Ling some," she said artlessly. " But 
 I haven't seen him for two or three years. Why 
 don't you tell me straight what you're driving at, 
 Mr. Menzies? I'm always willing to help you if I 
 can." 
 
 " I aim to take you to pieces and see what makes you 
 tick if you're not careful, Gwennie," he said. " You'd 
 better listen. You know of the murder at Linstone Ter- 
 race Gardens." He tapped out the bowl of his pipe 
 against the heel of his boot and menaced her with the 
 stem. " I'm not saying you had anything to do with 
 it but you know something." She met his eyes stead- 
 ily. " You're going down, Gwennie, don't make any 
 error about it. But I'd hate to be hard on you. I 
 know you've never liked gun-play and I'm willing to 
 believe that it was an accident, so far as you were con- 
 cerned that someone got out of hand. You know 
 we've got this chap Smith he calls himself. He's likely 
 to get loose-lipped, you know." 
 
 The last hint was sheer bluff, and Menzies saw it was 
 of no avail even before she replied. She was not to be 
 bamboozled into an acknowledgment that she knew any- 
 thing of Smith. " You believe I've had something to 
 do with the Greye-Stratton murder," she answered. 
 " If you've made up your mind I'll not argue. You'll 
 have to find a better fairy-story than that to get me 
 
 [101]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 down to the Old Bailey." She rose and walked over 
 to a seat nearer to the window. 
 
 " I should have thought a lady of your penetration 
 could have put two and two together from seeing me 
 here," he remarked. 
 
 She looked through the window. " I want to know," 
 she said indifferently. 
 
 " There was a note sent to Mr. Hallett, you know. 
 It asked him to come to this address. We have got 
 the note, which is quite enough for me to act on if I 
 want to charge you on suspicion of being concerned in 
 this murder." 
 
 He thought that her cheek went a trifle paler but he 
 could not be certain. Mrs. Lyne was not a lady who 
 was likely to show her emotions by any physical change. 
 She seemed deep in thought. She watched through the 
 window for two or three minutes before replying. Her 
 white fingers played an imaginary piano on her lap. 
 Then she jerked her head abruptly as though she had 
 come to some decision. "Where do I come in?" she 
 asked. " I'm not, admitting that I know anything, but 
 if I did, would it be worth my while to tell you? What 
 should I stand to gain, anyway? Let's talk plain busi- 
 ness. You don't expect something for nothing. As far 
 as I can see all you promise is your best thanks if I'll 
 kindly supply you with evidence to get. myself con- 
 victed." 
 
 There was reason in her point of view. There are 
 [102]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 countries where a certain amount of elasticity is al- 
 lowed to detectives in the matter of bargaining with 
 guilty persons. But Scotland Yard holds very strict 
 views on that point. The slightest resemblance of par- 
 tiality in its men is rigorously condemned. Menzies 
 was in a difficulty and knew it. 
 
 " There's something in what you say, Gwennie," he 
 argued easily. " Only don't lose sight of this I've 
 got enough to act on in regard to you." He placed his 
 hands on his knees and leaned forward. " It isn't as 
 if we weren't bound to get the rest of our evidence 
 sooner or later. You would be only saving time. You 
 know if I put in a word for you at a trial " 
 
 She interrupted him. " I'll climb down," she said. 
 " You've got me docketed and I know when I'm beat." 
 Her bright face relapsed into a momentary scowl. " I 
 was foolish to send Hallett that note. I thought he 
 might not take any notice of a verbal message. After 
 all I guess you'll search this house, and you'll be bound 
 to find him." 
 
 "He's here?" 
 
 She nodded. " He's here. He's had a tiring night 
 if I'm any judge. If you'll stand out of the doorway 
 we'll get along and drag him up. We stowed him in 
 the cellar." 
 
 He had too much knowledge of Miss Lyne's resource- 
 fulness to take any chances. She had the reputation 
 of being a bitter fighter when hardest pressed and he 
 
 [103]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 was alert for any indication that she meant to throw 
 him off his guard. He gripped her wrist as he opened 
 the door. " I'm going to hold tight," he warned. 
 
 " Oh, if you like it," she retorted, and they passed 
 side by side into the passage. 
 
 In the semi-darkness by the kitchen door she stopped 
 and pushed open a cupboard under the stairs. " It's 
 here," she said. " Have you got a match ? There's a 
 trap-door." 
 
 " We'll have to do without a match," he remarked. 
 " I like clinging to you, Gwennie." 
 
 She made no answer, but he felt her stoop, and him- 
 self bent and groped on the floor. The fingers of his 
 right hand came in contact with a heavy bolt, which 
 he withdrew. She in turn flung back the trap-door 
 and both peered down into the square of blackness which 
 marked the opening. 
 
 " You there, Mr. Hallett? " he cried. 
 
 A muffled, inarticulate sound reached him. The 
 woman raised herself almost upright. " He's tied and 
 gagged. We'll need that match, after all, Mr. Men- 
 zies. There's a ladder somewhere." 
 
 He felt in his pocket with his free right hand and 
 passed her a box of matches. " You'd better strike it, 
 then. Hurry up." 
 
 She fumbled with the matches clumsily enough, which 
 was only natural. There was a quick burst of flame 
 as the whole box flared up, and then Menzies gave a 
 [104]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 cry as she brought round the flaming box with all the 
 force of her left hand full in his face. His grip on her 
 wrist involuntarily relaxed and the moment she had 
 been waiting for arrived. She flung her full weight 
 sideways upon him and he collapsed down the open 
 trap-door. 
 
 She flung the door swiftly to, pushed home the bolt, 
 and daintily brushing the dirt from her dressing-gown, 
 withdrew, closing the cupboard door behind her. 
 
 [105]
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 WEIR MENZEES, bruised in body but more battered in 
 his feelings, was on his feet in a flash. Only the need 
 for instant action kept him from expressing in un- 
 churchwardenly terms his opinion of the trick that had 
 been played him. A ladder which had made itself pain- 
 fully felt in his descent he now ascended with a rush. 
 He scarcely hoped that the trap was still unsecured, 
 but he was a man who rarely took anything for granted. 
 His fingers pressed against the rough surface of the 
 boards and he gave one futile heave. Then he sat 
 down on the top step to consider matters quietly. 
 
 It is an elementary principle continually dinned into 
 the ears of junior members of the service that never 
 in any circumstances must a prisoner upon whom hands 
 have once been laid be permitted to escape. A captain 
 who has lost his ship feels little more agony of mind 
 than a Scotland Yard man who has lost his prisoner. 
 It is always difficult to define the difference between 
 negligence and ill luck. 
 
 True Gwennie had not been technically under arrest, 
 but that was small consolation. He had intended to 
 arrest her and she had outwitted him. That was the 
 galling part a part that could admit of little explana- 
 tion or extenuation when he came to submit his report 
 [106]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 to headquarters. He a chief inspector of the C. I. D. 
 had dropped into this muddle. 
 
 He put the personal aspect aside for the moment 
 while he sought to disentangle motives and probabili- 
 ties. Gwennie could have no hope that his imprison- 
 ment would be more than temporary. She was too old 
 a hand for that. Even if he were eliminated altogether, 
 the investigation would still go on. His progress was 
 recorded at Scotland Yard and there were able men 
 ready to take it up where he had left off. Also she 
 could scarcely suppose that he had ventured unsup- 
 ported into the house. She would realise his colleagues 
 would not be far away. 
 
 It needed no great reasoning power to conclude that 
 her little effort against him was meant merely as a 
 diversion to afford her time to make a get-away. And 
 more, it seemed likely that she would succeed. 
 
 " I'd like to wring her neck," mused Menzies aloud 
 and stabbed a hand viciously into his pocket to see 
 whether he had a spare box of matches. 
 
 Down below in the darkness something stirred. The 
 detective more than ever regretted the absence of 
 matches. He cautiously descended the ladder and 
 groped his way towards the sound. The cellar had 
 seemingly been used as a depository of useless lumber 
 and more than once he stumbled before, laying on a 
 heap of coals, he placed his hands on a warm form. 
 The figure moved under his touch and he felt the corda 
 [107]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 that enwrapped it. He slipped his pocket-knife under 
 the bonds and the man moved stiffly, sat up, extracted 
 a gag from his mouth, and spat. 
 
 " That you, Hallett? " said Menzies. 
 
 " Yes." The young man broke into a cackling laugh. 
 " They've got you, then, Menzies. If I wasn't so sore 
 this would be funny." 
 
 " You've a keen sense of humour," retorted Menzies 
 grimly. " I don't see anything funny about it. 
 Here hold tight. Don't go falling about yet. 
 I'll give you a rub-down and you'll be all right in a 
 jiffy." 
 
 Pie chafed the numbed limbs until Hallett groaned 
 with the exquisite agony of returning circulation. 
 " Matches are what I want more than anything else at 
 the moment," he went on. " Do you happen to have 
 any?" 
 
 " I think there's some right-hand vest pocket," 
 groaned Hallett. " Easy you're murdering me." 
 
 Menzies extracted a small silver box of vestas and 
 struck a light. "You'll do now," he said. "Better 
 keep quiet for a little while I have a look round. We'll 
 talk when there's more time." 
 
 The light showed a low-pitched cellar such as is used 
 for the storage of coals in many suburban houses. 
 Hallett, indeed, had been lying upon a heap of coals 
 and almost immediately above was an iron plate which 
 Menzies supposed opened out on to the pavement. He 
 [108]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 pushed it upwards and a slash of light showed that 
 he was right. 
 
 " By James ! I'll do Gwennie yet," he exclaimed. 
 " This hole was not built to fit me, but I guess you'll 
 be able to wriggle through, Mr. Hallett. You're 
 slimmer than I. Feel you'd like to have a walk about 
 now? Here, let me give you a hand?" 
 
 Supported by the chief inspector, Hallett took two 
 or three uncertain steps. His strength was rapidly re- 
 turning to him and by the time they had been twice 
 round the cellar he declared himself fit for the under- 
 taking. Menzies lifted him bodily and he wriggled 
 upwards through the manhole. It was a tight squeeze 
 and he sat gasping and exhausted on the pavement by 
 the time he was through. 
 
 "What next? "he asked. 
 
 " There should be a constable at the corner to the 
 right. Get him and break into the house if you can't 
 do it any other way. Tell him to come and speak to 
 me if he won't take instructions from you." 
 
 The policeman proved amenable, and within ten min- 
 utes Menzies had the pleasure of hearing the bolts of 
 his prison withdraw and he heaved a sigh of relief as 
 he emerged into comparatively open air. " That's 
 better," he declared. He turned sharply on the con- 
 stable. " Have you seen anyone leave the house since I 
 came in? " 
 
 " There was a lady and gentleman about twenty min- 
 
 [109]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 utes or half an hour ago, sir. I could have stopped 'em, 
 but I didn't know whether you might want me to. I 
 had no instructions. The gentleman was carrying a 
 bag and the lady asked me where they were likely to 
 find a taxi-cab." 
 
 " Did you direct them? " 
 
 " I told them the town hall was the nearest rank." 
 
 " Hump yourself down to that rank," said Menzies, 
 " and find out if they took a cab. Get the number and 
 hurry back, bringing a cab with you. Come on, Hal- 
 lett. We'll make sure that all the birds have flown 
 before we have that talk. And a wash wouldn't be 
 amiss for either of us," he added, surveying the other's 
 coal-blackened face. 
 
 " You've burnt yourself," said Jimmie. 
 
 " That," commented Menzies. " Oh, that's nothing 
 only Gwennie's trade-mark. She's a regular little 
 spit-cat, isn't she? " 
 
 A room to room search of the house satisfied Menzies 
 that it was empty save for themselves. He postponed 
 a more detailed search until Congreve should arrive 
 and led the way to the room in which Gwennie Lyne 
 had received him. He dropped into a chair and looked 
 Hallett up and down. 
 
 " If it hadn't been my duty to get you out of this 
 hole," he said, " I'd have felt inclined to let your friends 
 stew you in your own juice. You're a little too inclined 
 to go off at half-cock for my taste." 
 
 [110]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Hallett flushed a little. He remembered that but for 
 the detective he would probably have been still in the 
 cellar, and he had passed no word of thanks. He tried 
 to overlook the reproof in Menzies' tone. " I'll own I 
 blundered, if that will satisfy you." He held out his 
 hand. " If it hadn't been for you I'd have still been 
 sweating my soul out down below. I take it all back. 
 You're a good man, Menzies." 
 
 " The girl played you up, did she? You're not the 
 first that's been made a fool of by a woman, my lad." 
 
 Hallett's teeth gritted together. Menzies seemed to 
 have the faculty of invariably smoothing him up the 
 wrong way. " Can't you leave that end alone," he said 
 coldly. " You may be right or wrong, but you know 
 my opinion. Miss Greye-Stratton isn't a criminal. 
 Your judgment's warped." 
 
 Menzies smiled and made a gesture as of one indulg- 
 ing a child's whim. " All right, my son. Have it your 
 own way. I know " he cocked one leg over the other 
 " if I'd been lured into this shanty by the lady and 
 bundled down to keep company with the coals, what / 
 should think. I'm not blaming you for jumping to help 
 a lady in distress but if you'd gone to the Yard with 
 that note instead of playing knight-errant, it would 
 have been the sensible thing." 
 
 " That note was forged. I'll swear she had no hand 
 in it." 
 
 Weir Menzies was whistling a tune softly to himself. 
 [Ill]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 He stopped in the middle of a bar. " My dear young 
 friend, for a man who's knocked about the world you're 
 the most verdant sprig I've run across for a long 
 time." 
 
 " How'd you know I was here?" demanded Jimmie. 
 
 " You left the fragments of the note in your room 
 and we put them together. That's all. Suppose you 
 let me know what happened. We'll want your state- 
 ment, anyway." 
 
 Jimmie Hallett felt his unshaven chin absently. " It's 
 no good explaining to you why I fell into this frame-up. 
 You wouldn't understand and you can call me all the 
 names you like if it relieves you any. You've got to take 
 it that I felt I had to do something when I got back 
 to the hotel and found the note. That was how I came 
 out here. I guess I led any of your men who were 
 shadowing me a little dance. I hopped all over the old 
 village." 
 
 " If you went to any trouble to avoid my men," said 
 Menzies drily, " it was waste of time. There was no 
 one following you. If there had been you wouldn't have 
 thrown them off. That doesn't matter, though. Go 
 on." 
 
 " Well," said Jimmie, " there isn't much more to it. 
 A nice, gentle old lady it's she who you call Gwennie, 
 I suppose opened the door to me. I was on the look- 
 out for tricks, but she pretty well threw me off my 
 guard when she denied that she knew Miss Olney al-
 
 though when I mentioned Miss Greye-Stratton's name 
 she was as nice as pie and asked me right in into this 
 very room. 
 
 " She asked me to sit down and went away as I 
 supposed to fetch Miss Greye-Stratton. She was 
 back in two or three minutes and she pitched me a little 
 tale I suppose while things were being got good and 
 ready for me. She told me that she was an old friend 
 of Miss Greye-Stratton " 
 
 " Didn't that strike you as curious, seeing she hadn't 
 recognised the name of Olney? " asked Menzies. 
 
 " It didn't occur to me then," admitted Hallett. 
 " I never gave it a thought. As I was saying, she de- 
 clared that she was an old friend and that the girl had 
 sought her advice in her difficulties. You can laugh, 
 but I gulped it all down. Then there came a tap at 
 the door. ' Peggy is ready to see you,' said she, and 
 we got up. I held the door open for her and passed 
 through close behind. The passage isn't well lighted, as 
 you may have noticed, and as I half turned to close 
 the door after me someone dropped a bag over my 
 head and shoulders. 
 
 " I did my best but I didn't stand a dog's chance. If 
 I'd had my arms free I might have done something, 
 but that smothering bag prevented anything like an 
 effective struggle. I had a gun but I couldn't get at 
 it. There were three of them Gwennie and two men 
 and I was dragged back into this room and handled. 
 
 [113]
 
 " At last the two men managed to get hold of my 
 wrists and held me while Gwennie drew the sack off. 
 Then I was lashed and gagged as you found me. 
 
 " ' Sorry to put you to this inconvenience, Mr. Hal- 
 lett,' said Gwennie, ' but we just had to make sure of 
 you.' I glared at her. Of course I couldn't answer. 
 Laying as I was I couldn't see the faces of the two 
 men they seemed to be purposely keeping out of my 
 line of sight, but one of them struck in. 
 
 " ' Think yourself lucky that we haven't put you 
 right out.' 
 
 " * All right,' thinks I to myself, ' I know that voice.' 
 It was that of the man who let me in at Linstone Ter- 
 race Gardens. 
 
 " ' You keep quiet,' said Gwennie she seemed to be 
 boss of the show. ' Now just listen to me, Mr. Hallett. 
 You've been jolted into a business that is no concern of 
 yours, and we're not the sort of people to allow our 
 plans to be interfered with. It's up to us to keep 
 your mouth shut about what you've seen or know, but 
 you won't come to any harm unless our hands are 
 forced. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with some 
 discomfort for some hours, though, until we can make 
 arrangements.' 
 
 " They lifted me up and carried me down that cellar 
 and anything harder than the coal they laid me on 
 I've never known. There was a clock I could hear 
 striking somewhere, so I was able to keep track of time. 
 
 [114]
 
 At about half-past ten last night Gwennie came down 
 and loosened the gag and gave me something to eat and 
 drink. She didn't forget to put it on again afterwards, 
 though. After that I was left alone till I heard your 
 voices above the trap-door though I never thought 
 then that she'd diddle you as she has done." 
 
 " I've not finished yet, Mr. Hallett," said Menzies. 
 " We're going to play this game out. It's one thing 
 
 gained to know that Gwennie Lyne's in it Hello, 
 
 there's a cab. That must be my constable back. Ah, 
 and there's Congreve and a couple more men. It doesn't 
 look as if we'd have stayed long in that cellar even if 
 there hadn't been the coal-shoot. I'll have to decide 
 what's to be done." 
 
 [115]
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE only man who appeared at all hurried or excited 
 was the constable. He had gained not only the number 
 of the cab in which Gwennie and her companion had 
 driven away, but the name of the driver and the location 
 of his garage. He was visibly proud of his success, 
 though perhaps a little disappointed that Menzies 
 should accept it as a matter of course. Still there was 
 the thrill not often encountered in street duty of feeling 
 that he was at work side by side with one of the best- 
 known Scotland Yard detectives. It was none the less 
 felt, although he had little idea of what was happening 
 or what had happened. 
 
 His palpable excitement was in contrast to the im- 
 perturbable attitude of the detectives to whom the 
 routine was familiar. They waited while Menzies 
 swiftly scribbled a message to headquarters. 
 
 A definite stage had been reached in the investigation. 
 The motive and identity of the murderer of the old man 
 were still in doubt, but no longer was there any neces- 
 sity for questing a trail. The law holds every person 
 innocent until proved guilty, but common sense has at 
 times to reverse the rule. No experienced police officer 
 of any nationality would hesitate for a moment in form- 
 ing an opinion even had the facts against Gwennie 
 Lyne been much slighter than they were. Her mere 
 
 [116]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 reputation as an organiser of criminal coups was 
 enough. 
 
 It might be difficult to bring home any proof of com- 
 plicity in the murder, but there was now a legitimate 
 reason for holding her (once she was caught) in the 
 abduction of Hallett or even as a returned deportee. 
 A suspect under lock and key has few opportunities 
 of clouding a line of investigation. Menzies felt the 
 elation of one who had viewed his quarry and could 
 now run it down in the open. Once she and her friends 
 were under arrest it would be easier to piece together 
 the links connecting them with the murder. 
 
 He finished his despatch and folded and blotted 
 it methodically. " Take that along to the station 
 and have it wired off to the Yard at once," he 
 ordered. 
 
 So he sent a warning that within an hour or less 
 would reach each one of the six hundred odd detectives 
 of London, to say nothing of the watchers of the ports. 
 Not a single man of those six hundred going about his 
 ordinary business but would shortly carry a photograph 
 of Gwennie and be alert for any hint of her whereabouts. 
 It was to that relentless, unceasing vigilance that Men- 
 zies pinned his faith rather than to the wearying task 
 of following her up through the cabman who had driven 
 her away. The cabman would only be able to say 
 where he put her down, and she would have had 
 ample time to cover her tracks. 
 
 [in]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " Did you get that search-warrant, Congreve ? Right 
 you are. You'd better start running over the house. 
 I'll get some clothes and come back. What do you 
 think about things, Mr. Hallett? Would you like to 
 come along with me? " 
 
 Jimmie's lips were firm-pressed. " What are you 
 doing about the girl? " he said. " She may be in dan- 
 ger. Isn't there something I can do? " 
 
 " You can't do anything but, keep cool," said Menzies. 
 " It's no good over-running ourselves. That young 
 lady's a lot more capable of taking care of herself than 
 you seem to think. We're getting on as fast as we can. 
 Something might turn up in searching the house that 
 will give us a fresh start, seeing that Gwennie hustled 
 out of it in such a hurry." 
 
 Even if Jimmie had been still resolved to chip in on 
 a lone hand, he recognised that he was helpless. He 
 could not act by himself. He had no organisation to 
 back him and no means of following up the girl unless 
 he stood in with the detectives. He nodded in token 
 of his acquiescence in Menzies* dispositions and the 
 latter led him to the taxi-cab outside. 
 
 They whirled away to Magersfontein Road, where 
 Hallett gladly availed himself of an offer to eradicate 
 most of the traces of the night's adventure. The chief 
 inspector was waiting for him by the time he had finished 
 a bath and a shave and made an energetic attack on his 
 clothes with a brush. He also had changed. Flushed 
 
 [118]
 
 and cheerful, he looked more the churchwarden than 
 ever by contrast with his late appearance. 
 
 " No need to hurry. Congreve won't have finished 
 yet awhile and a bit of breakfast won't do any harm. 
 Let me introduce Mrs. Menzies. And here's Bruin. 
 Shake hands with Mr. Hallett, Bruin." He fondled 
 the dog for a moment. " He's a rascal. Tried to 
 spoil my garden yesterday, didn't you you wicked old 
 sinner. Come and have a look at my patch, Mr. Hal- 
 lett. It's not big, but I do fairly well with my 
 roses." 
 
 " I never talk business when I'm at home and never 
 think of it if I can help it. I do all my worrying on 
 duty. Some men let a case get on their nerves. It 
 never does any good," he said when they were seated at 
 the table. 
 
 The steady search of Mrs. Lyne's house was still 
 progressing when they returned to Ludford Road. A 
 number of fresh detectives had arrived to help Congreve, 
 and they found Heldon Foyle stretched lazily out in 
 one of the horsehair chairs in the sitting-room. He 
 rose and shook hands with Jimmie. 
 
 " How are you, Mr. Hallett ? . . . I got your report, 
 Menzies. Nothing much doing, so I thought I'd drop 
 down and have a look at things." He drew the chief in- 
 spector a little aside. " I didn't think you would have 
 let Gwennie get one in on you. She complicates things. 
 The Commissioner isn't pleased." 
 
 [119]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " It's against me, sir, and that's a fact," agreed the 
 other ruefully. He made no attempt at excuse. 
 
 " It can't be helped, old man," said Foyle more sym- 
 pathetically now that he had delivered his official re- 
 proof. " I'd have fallen into it just the same way. 
 Come upstairs. Excuse us a moment, Mr. Hallett." 
 
 He led the way upstairs to a locked room and tapped 
 softly at the door. It was opened very slowly, just 
 wide enough to admit him. " Burnt paper," he ex- 
 plained laconically. " Come in slowly. Don't make a 
 draught." 
 
 The chief inspector obeyed. There were a couple of 
 men within the bedroom, which reeked of oil from a 
 cheap stove on the washstand. The window was tight 
 closed and the chimney was blocked up. In the grate 
 were the blackened fragments of a mass of burnt papers. 
 The big bed, too, was a chaos of burnt papers which 
 had broken under the efforts of the two men to move 
 them intact. 
 
 The superintendent and the chief inspector halted by 
 the door. With infinite delicacy one of the constables 
 lifted a sheet of burnt paper from the grate and placed 
 it in a kitchen sieve. This he held over a steaming 
 kettle on the oil stove while his companion with a trans- 
 parent sheet of paper on which gum had been thinly 
 spread in his hand, waited anxiously. The burnt paper 
 softened rapidly and the gummed sheet was dropped 
 upon it. 
 
 [120]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " That's the last, sir," commented one of the op- 
 erators. " The rest is too broken up to be handled." 
 He indicated the grate with a gesture. 
 
 The chief inspector moved to the bed and took a 
 seat upon it. Heldon Foyle lit a cigar. 
 
 " There are two or three cheque-book counterfoils 
 not quite destroyed," went on the man, and picking 
 them off the coverlet handed them to Menzies. 
 
 " Very well," said Foyle. " Mr. Menzies and I will 
 go through these things now. You can come to photo- 
 graph them later on." 
 
 As the experts vanished, Menzies gingerly turned 
 over the charred leaves of the cheque counterfoils. 
 " Gwennie made the most of her time," he observed, " but 
 she seems to have been too much rushed to make a com- 
 plete job of it. These are on the same bank as Greye- 
 Stratton's." 
 
 " Same cheques ? " asked Foyle. 
 
 " Hallett may be able to tell us that. What are these 
 other documents? " 
 
 It is a peculiarity of burnt paper that it often shows 
 up quite clearly any writing that was upon it before it 
 was consumed. Menzies wrinkled his brows as he 
 studied the pasted-down portions that had been res- 
 cued. Some pieces were almost complete ; some had 
 broken and twisted under the process of restoration 
 so that it was a matter of difficulty to follow the ec- 
 centricities of the writing which, in some cases, stood
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 out dirty grey, in others brilliant black, and still again 
 pale black. 
 
 " Listen to this," said Menzies. He read slowly : 
 " ' We are all right for the time being and if ' there's 
 a piece missing there ' can be handled we shall be all 
 hunky. Couldn't you square one of the bulls. You 
 know some of them and it might be worth a shot, as it 
 would simplify things. It's no good tackling M. But 
 a couple of hundred with some of the others ought to 
 go a long way. You can dig the money out and ' 
 something else gone. ' Hallett is most dangerous just 
 now. He absolutely must be settled if we are to pull 
 off the game. That's up to you, as I'll have to keep 
 below the water line. 5 
 
 " ' Better not write to me, but if you can get wind 
 to Cincinnati pass me a word. Don't trust C. too 
 much.' The rest of the letter's gone," finished Menzies. 
 
 The superintendent sucked his cigar thoughtfully. 
 "That's Cincinnati Red," he commented. "You'll 
 want to rope him in. He's been in London for three 
 months or more." 
 
 " I'll have that seen to at once," said Menzies. " The 
 rest of the letters can wait a little." 
 
 Foyle stretched out his hand for the blackened 
 epistle. " Pity the rest of it's gone. The chap who 
 wrote this thinks a lot of you, Menzies. He thinks 
 you're above graft. I wonder if Gwennie has been try- 
 ing to buy up any of our men."
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " The letter's probably been written this last day or 
 two. There's been no time yet. I'll pass the word that 
 whoever is tackled is to bite." 
 
 " There might be a chance," said Foyle. " And I'll 
 tell you what, Menzies. I'll bet you a thousand pounds 
 to a penny that the gentleman who's so anxious to keep 
 his head under the water line is Stewart Reader Ling." 
 
 " No takers, sir," said Menzies smilingly. 
 
 [123]
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 IN serene unconsciousness that he occupied any place 
 in the thoughts of Scotland Yard men Cincinnati Red 
 sat cross-legged, sipping a liqueur. Of late his lines had 
 fallen in pleasant places. He had tasted sufficiently of 
 the hardships of this world to appreciate comfort. The 
 furnished flat which he held in Palace Avenue by grace 
 of a trustful landlord was a luxury which more than 
 pleased him. 
 
 Few there were who knew Cincinnati Red's real origin 
 or real name. He was certainly a man of education and 
 address. In the police archives he was registered as 
 a " con " man which in plain English means that he 
 was a swindler. Moreover, he was a swindler of un- 
 common resource and daring who had a knowledge of 
 every trick in the game. He had been bunco-steerer, 
 gold-brick man, sawdust man long before these swindles 
 became threadbare. He always managed to keep a little 
 ahead of the ruck, and though he had had one or two 
 bad falls in his time, he was probably, as he would have 
 put it, " ahead of the game." 
 
 He might have been anything from forty to sixty. 
 His luxuriant, once auburn, hair and moustache had 
 greyed and his ingenuous frank hazel eyes were in them- 
 selves a guarantee of integrity. He wore evening dress 
 as though he were accustomed to it and his manner was
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 that of an easy-going tolerant man of the world who 
 had no enemies and thousands of friends. 
 
 Now, an American millionaire with a Bohemian taste 
 for night clubs and a cosy flat where selected friends 
 of wealth may be invited for no-limit games of chance, 
 has small fear of the police. It is unlikely that a man 
 that has dropped a hundred or two over baccarat or 
 poker will squeal to the authorities, even though he sus- 
 pects that something more than luck has favoured his 
 charming host. Publicity does not appeal to him. And 
 for any other than legal contingencies Cincinnati Red 
 was prepared. It caused a bulge in the breast pocket of 
 his otherwise well-fitting dress coat, but that could 
 scarcely be avoided. There are few smaller reliable 
 pistols than the pattern of derringer he carried. 
 
 So it was with thoughts far removed from the sordid 
 commonplaces of crime that he pressed the bell and sum- 
 moned his man to help him on with his overcoat. He 
 made his way with dignity down into the street and 
 stopped for a moment on the curb to light his cigarette. 
 
 A couple of men sauntered towards him. The taller 
 of the two halted as they came opposite. " Isn't your 
 name Tomkins ? " he asked. 
 
 Cincinnati finished lighting his cigarette, dropped the 
 match and ground the light out under his heel before 
 replying. " No, my man," he drawled, " you've made 
 a mistake. My name is Whiffen." 
 
 He calmly ignored his questioner and held up a slim 
 [125]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 cane in his left hand for a taxi-cab. Someone gripped 
 his right wrist and he wheeled in wrathful surprise. As 
 he did so his other hand was caught. He made no 
 resistance. His attitude was one of dignified and lofty 
 indignation. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? Leave me alone in- 
 stantly or I will call the police." 
 
 " That's all right," observed one of his captors 
 quietly. " We are police officers ourselves. Jump in, 
 
 Alf. I've got him. . . . Now then All right, 
 
 driver. Scotland Yard." 
 
 It was as though they were handling a bale of goods, 
 so neatly and impersonally was the whole thing effected. 
 Cincinnati Red had been for once taken off his guard. 
 He was more staggered than his manner showed. That 
 the police should know of his presence in London was 
 not astonishing. It was to be expected. That they 
 should know exactly where to lay hands on him was a 
 different thing. He thought he had covered his traces 
 effectually that no one could guess that Wilfred S. 
 Whiffen, who lived unostentatiously and well at Palace 
 Avenue was Cincinnati Red, whose record occupied a 
 prominent place in the police registers of half a dozen 
 countries. What puzzled him still more was the mere 
 fact that even knowing him, the police should trouble to 
 arrest him. Since his arrival in England there was noth- 
 ing they could hold against him, as far as he knew. He 
 was as dead certain as he cared to be about anything 
 
 [126]
 
 that none of his victims had invoked the aid of the 
 law. 
 
 The only reasonable supposition was that this was 
 a sort of bluff that was intended to frighten him out of 
 the country. He resolved to sit tight. 
 
 " If you people really are police officers," he declared 
 acidly, " this foolishness will cost you your positions. I 
 may tell you I am well known in the best circles both 
 here and in New York." 
 
 His captors remained unimpressed. Cincinnati Red 
 had been " rubbed down " before and he recognised the 
 touch of efficient hands. One of the officers thrust a 
 hand into his breast pocket and produced the derringer. 
 
 " Handy little thing, Alf," he commented. 
 
 "Will you answer me, my man?" said Cincinnati, 
 accentuating every word slowly. " Am I under arrest, 
 and if so, what for. I insist on being told. You will 
 hear more of this." He was annoyed in reality and a 
 vague alarm was growing in his breast. 
 
 " You keep quiet, old lad," said one of his captors 
 with more familiarity than was consistent with the status 
 of Wilfred S. Whiffen, whatever it might be with Cin- 
 cinnati Red. " You'll learn all about it soon enough. 
 Nobody's going to hurt you." 
 
 " That isn't the point. I insist upon knowing what 
 all this is about. I have an appointment with Lord 
 Windermere and " 
 
 " He will talk," interrupted one of the officers 
 [127]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 wearily. " Say, sonny, suppose you give it a rest for 
 five minutes. Lord Windermere will have to wait. Oh ! 
 Here we are." 
 
 Very few criminals are taken to Scotland Yard on 
 detention, whatever the reader of popular fiction is ac- 
 customed to suppose. And that fact gave Cincinnati 
 Red something to surmise upon as he was ushered into 
 the soft-carpeted room where Weir Menzies and Heldon 
 Foyle awaited him. 
 
 They both rose with the welcoming smile of old ac- 
 quaintances. His escort had vanished. " That you? " 
 said Foyle, beaming. " Say, I'm glad to see you, Cin- 
 cinnati. You're looking top hole, too." 
 
 " Sit right down," added Menzies. " Hope you've 
 not been put to any inconvenience. We told our chaps 
 not to alarm you." 
 
 Cincinnati Red looked from one to the other, sus- 
 picion working behind his bland countenance. He had 
 in his time passed through the hands of both the de- 
 tectives and it was useless keeping up the pose he had 
 adopted with the younger men. Still this assumption 
 of friendliness was beyond him. 
 
 " Well, you've got me here, gentlemen," he said 
 suavely. " I didn't invite myself and I've got business 
 to attend to." He pulled off his gloves and dangled 
 them in one hand. " It's rather rough on a man when 
 he has achieved a position for himself and is on the level 
 again " 
 
 [128]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " And you're on the level," said Menzies, rolling a 
 pen between his thumb and finger. " Well, I think it 
 is a shame to drag an honest workingman " his eye 
 wandered meditatively over Cincinnati's faultless even- 
 ing dress " away from his j ob especially as the night 
 clubs will soon be open. What line of commerce have 
 you established yourself in? " 
 
 Cincinnati returned his glance more hurt than angry. 
 Foyle struck in before he could reply. 
 
 " Let him alone, Menzies. What'll you have, Cin- 
 cinnati? I've got some of the real rye here or would 
 you prefer anything else ? " 
 
 It is unusual for an officer of the C. I. to work with 
 his desk flanked with a decanter of rye whisky. It is 
 still more unusual for him to profer hospitality to a 
 crook in the very headquarters of police. Cincinnati 
 became wary. He did not know what was going to 
 happen, but he wanted to keep his head clear. 
 
 " Nothing, I thank you," he said. 
 
 " Just as you like. I thought you might like a drink 
 while we had a talk over things." 
 
 Cincinnati knew as well as the men who faced him 
 that the whole proceedings were totally irregular. They 
 had no shadow of right to detain him while no charge 
 was hanging over his head. He would have been justified 
 in walking straight out of the building. Yet he knew 
 Foyle and he knew Menzies, and he knew, in spite of 
 their apparent friendliness, things might become un- 
 
 [129]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 pleasant if he took a high line. He flicked a speck of 
 dust off his boots with his glove. 
 
 " Don't be shy," he urged. 
 
 " Where's Ling? " questioned Menzies abruptly. His 
 ruddy face had lost its good nature. He was leaning 
 forward with hard, fierce eyes barely a couple of inches 
 from the " con " man's face. The quickness of the 
 question and harshness of his manner were all carefully 
 calculated to make an impression that would throw the 
 other off his balance. 
 
 Cincinnati seemed unperturbed. " So you're hunt- 
 ing up Ling. What's he been doing? On my soul I 
 wish I could help you. I don't like Ling." 
 
 There was a moment's silence. Then Foyle twisted 
 his swivel chair and lifted one of a row of speaking- 
 tubes behind him. It was a simple, undramatic action, 
 but somehow the " con " man's pulse beats quickened. 
 The superintendent paused with the tube in his hand. 
 
 " You've got a clean sheet, of course? " he asked, and 
 his voice, though quiet, was threatening. " Nothing we 
 can hold you for? Or shall I put a wire through to 
 Rome and Paris and New York? " 
 
 Now there had been incidents in Cincinnati Red's 
 career as in those of every professional crook wherein 
 the law had not claimed the penalty which was its due. 
 It sometimes happens that only the most grave of a 
 series of crimes is selected for definite legal punishment. 
 There were cases that still might be proceeded with 
 [130]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 against the " con " man if the blue-eyed superintendent 
 chose to induce his international colleagues to rake the 
 cold ashes together. 
 
 " Don't rush a man," protested Cincinnati Red, a 
 little less coolly. " I was saying that I'd help you if 
 I could." 
 
 " Then get down to it," snapped Menzies. " We're 
 in a hurry." 
 
 " The sweat box " is an institution unknown in Eng- 
 lish police circles. Nevertheless, the " con " man found 
 certain similarities in the conduct of the swift and re- 
 lentless examination of the two detectives. They gave 
 him little time for invention even had he been disposed 
 to mislead them. But like most of his type he put his 
 own skin first, even if it came to betraying an acquaint- 
 ance into the hands of justice. 
 
 " Guess I'll have a drink, after all," he said. He 
 swallowed a draught Foyle handed him in a quick gulp. 
 " I'll trust you not to let any of the boys know I have 
 said anything," he declared. " I saw Ling about a 
 week ago and I've known he had something big on for 
 some months. You gentlemen know that I used to have 
 considerable dealings with him. He'd shoot on sight 
 if he guessed. ..." 
 
 " You were one of the layers down in that forged cir- 
 cular note stunt of his," remarked Menzies. " Yes, we 
 know all about that. Five years you got in Paris, wasn't 
 it? " 
 
 [131]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " Three," corrected Cincinnati. " You'd have 
 thought," he went on with more bitterness, " that he'd 
 have let me in on the ground floor of any fresh job, see- 
 ing how I had the brunt of that. If it hadn't been for 
 an accident we'd have made a pile. But no. He said 
 they were full up." 
 
 The two detectives exchanged glances. Cincinnati 
 Red, clever man though he was, had always been viewed 
 with a certain amount of not altogether unjustified dis- 
 trust by his associates in the underworld. The phrase in 
 the letter warning Gwennie not to trust Cincinnati too 
 much occurred to them. 
 
 " A lucky thing for you, too," observed Foyle. " Go 
 on." 
 
 "Well, whatever the job is Gwennie Lyne is in it. 
 Ling said he might have to lay close for a bit, but there 
 might be a chance for me to sit in the game later on. 
 That was to sweeten me, you bet. He wanted me to keep 
 in touch with Gwennie she lives down at Brixton 
 now. ..." 
 
 "What address?" asked Menzies. There was noth- 
 ing to be gained by giving Cincinnati Red any sort of a 
 hint as to how far they were able to check his story. 
 He gravely wrote down the address the correct one 
 given by the " con " man. 
 
 " Well," went on Cincinnati, " it's no good asking me 
 what the job is, because, honest injun, I don't know " 
 he shot a sideways glance at them " you'll be more clear 
 
 [132]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 on that than I am. All I know is that it's a big thing." 
 
 " Do you know a Miss Olney Miss Lucy Olney? " 
 
 Cincinnati shook his head. " Never heard the name 
 before." 
 
 Two pairs of eyes were watching him closely. The 
 chief inspector gave a slight cough into his moustache. 
 So far the swindler had been convincingly plausible and 
 if he were more deeply involved in the mystery than he 
 appeared to be, he had taken a cunning line. " How did 
 you come to take a flat in Palace Avenue? " demanded 
 Foyle. 
 
 " Well," said Cincinnati slowly, " I don't know there 
 was any special reason why I should take it there more 
 than anywhere else " 
 
 " Answer the question quick," demanded Menzies ; 
 " don't talk round it." 
 
 " It was Ling who told me the place was to let." 
 
 " Ah. And I suppose you got your references from 
 him?" 
 
 " That's so. But don't you run away with any de- 
 lusions, Mr. Menzies. I've paid my rent regularly and 
 honestly." Cincinnati was plainly grieved at the re- 
 flection on his integrity. 
 
 " We'll take your word. But I thought you weren't 
 very friendly with Ling. Why should he go out of his 
 way to do you a favour? " 
 
 Cincinnati shrugged his shoulders. " Oh, it didn't 
 cost him anything, I suppose. He said he might want 
 [133]
 
 me to chip in sometime and it was handy for Gwennie 
 and him to know where I was. He used to run up and 
 see me sometimes. That's all there is to it." 
 
 " You haven't said how you were to communicate 
 with Ling. Where is he ? " 
 
 " I don't know where he is. Last I saw of him was 
 when he used to take meals at the Petit Savoy you 
 know that little restaurant in Soho. He hasn't always 
 been there lately. Sometimes a chap named Dago Sam 
 used to come instead. If I got any urgent message I 
 was to post it to T. S. Charters, Poste Restante, Aid- 
 gate." 
 
 " H'm." Menzies wrote out the address and looked 
 questioningly at Foyle. 
 
 " That'll do for the present," said the superinten- 
 dent. " The point is what arc we going to do about 
 you?" He shook his head at the "con" man. 
 " You're an awkward problem, you know." 
 
 " You can trust me, Mr. Foyle," said Cincinnati. 
 " I know when to keep my mouth shut. Why, I might 
 be able to help you to get hold of Ling." 
 
 " That's decidedly an idea," said Menzies. " Wait 
 a minute." He dashed outside and returned accom- 
 panied by the men who had captured Cincinnati Red. 
 " If you'll go with these gentlemen, Mr. er Whif- 
 fen," he said politely, " Mr. Foyle and I will talk things 
 over and see what is to be done." 
 
 [134]
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A HALF smile of triumph was on Menzies' face as he 
 returned to his seat. " Ling is a judge of character," 
 he said with a contemptuous jerk of the head in the 
 direction of the door. " That chap would sell his father, 
 and mother, and brothers, and sisters to save his own 
 skin. Pah ! " 
 
 " Handle him easy all the same," exhorted the su- 
 perintendent. " He's a nasty man to get in a corner. 
 He had a gun on me once in a saloon and if I hadn't 
 been a quick shot with a beer bottle well, I wouldn't 
 be talking to you now. Hello ! Good evening, Sir 
 Hilary." 
 
 The gaunt figure of the assistant commissioner had 
 entered the room, an open newspaper in his hand. 
 " Good evening. They told me you were here, Menzies. 
 Seen the Evening Comet? They've got a new clue 
 for you. Seems that Greye-Stratton was a defaulting 
 member of the Black Hand. It's true, because its spe- 
 cial commissioner has found certain cabalistic marks 
 chalked on the pavement which no one is able to deci- 
 pher. Here's a photograph. Scotland Yard that's 
 one of you two, I suppose is extremely reticent and 
 would express no opinion when approached on the sub- 
 ject. Two columns." 
 
 " So that torn-fool published it," said Foyle, his eyes 
 [135]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 twinkling behind his glasses. " He found some boy 
 scout marks about a hundred yards away from the 
 house and came up here full of it. He wasn't quite 
 sure whether it was the Black Hand or the High Bind- 
 ers, but he's certain he's on the track and he left a 
 photograph for you, Menzies." 
 
 " Obliged, I'm sure," said the chief inspector shortly. 
 
 " How are things shaping? " asked Thornton. 
 
 " Moderate, sir, moderate," answered Menzies. 
 " We've just been talking to a gentleman who may be 
 of some use but I'm not dead certain yet." He fished 
 in his pocket and produced some notes. " We've brushed 
 away a lot of the fog at the beginning of the case and 
 we've got something to concentrate on. I never like 
 to be confident, but we've got heaps of suspicion to 
 bring against one or two people and the evidence may 
 come along. It makes it easier in a way that some of 
 them are known crooks." 
 
 Thornton was standing in front of the fireplace, his 
 hands behind his back. He jerked his coat-tails to and 
 fro. " I don't follow that altogether. I used to under- 
 stand that it was easier to run down an amateur than 
 a professional. Surely their experience will help 'em 
 to blind the trail." 
 
 " That's partly right," agreed Menzies, " but it cuts 
 
 both ways. I can judge of my difficulties. Now I'm 
 
 not clear about a lot of things, but I've got ideas on 
 
 which I've not reported yet because they may turn out 
 
 [136]
 
 all wrong. The point on which we are clear now is that 
 robbery at least straightforward robbery was not 
 the motive of the murder. Revenge is a possibility. 
 Errol, Greye-Stratton's step-son, hated him like poison 
 and it is clear that the old man dreaded some attempt 
 on his life though that may have been pure mono- 
 mania with no foundation in fact at all. All the same 
 Errol is the pivot on which we have to work. I, at one 
 time, supposed him the actual murderer. I am not so 
 certain now. Errol by the way, we haven't found 
 what name he passes under yet and his sister are liv- 
 ing in London apart from each other and apart from 
 the old man. She is sole heiress. She is quietly mar- 
 ried to Stewart Reader Ling Errol's pal. Do you 
 follow me, sir? " 
 
 " That's plain and plausible as far as it goes," said 
 Sir Hilary. " It supplies a powerful motive. But, to 
 be frank, it doesn't do much else." 
 
 " I don't pretend it does,/' said Menzies. " It would 
 be mighty thin to put before a jury by itself, as you 
 say. But now we come to Hallett. He hears a quarrel 
 in the fog. A woman pursued by a man rushes up to 
 him and puts a bundle of cheques into his hand. He 
 goes to Greye-Stratton's house and is admitted about 
 the time of the murder and knocked out by a man whose 
 face he never saw. Twice he was brought into contact 
 with a man or possibly two men who must know a 
 great deal about the case. And yet he never saw them." 
 
 [137]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " I thought you were convinced of his honesty," said 
 Thornton. " I myself believe he's perfectly clear." 
 
 " Wait a minute," said Foyle. 
 
 " I think so, too," went on Menzies. " But this is 
 significant. Does the man who was in the fog, does the 
 man who was in the house, know that Hallett never saw 
 his features? We get the attempt to silence him first by 
 threats, then by a pistol shot, then by abduction. This 
 part, at any rate, links up some evidence. The Greye- 
 Stratton girl's name is used to lure him to Gwennie 
 Lyne's house. If she wrote the note herself and, 
 mind you, we've no proof she didn't that connects her 
 with Gwennie and the rest. I'm pretty positive in my 
 own mind that she was the woman of the fog and that 
 Hallett knows it and she knows he knows. We carry 
 the linking up closer by one of the burnt notes we 
 found, which warns Gwennie Lyne that Hallett must be 
 silenced at all costs. We guess that's Ling's writing 
 and may be able to prove it. We've got collaboration in 
 some plot whether it's the murder of Greye-Stratton 
 or not partly established at any rate." 
 
 " But the cheques," said Thornton. " How do you 
 explain the cheques ? " 
 
 " I don't. I'll own they're beyond me at the moment. 
 None of our enquiries have thrown any light on that, 
 though we found some burnt stubs which may be the 
 counterfoils in Gwennie's grate. However, that may 
 be one of those things capable of a quite simple expla- 
 
 [138]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 nation at the right moment. Now there's the man we've 
 just been talking to Cincinnati Red. Of course, he's 
 a crook and he wouldn't show up well under cross- 
 examination if we should want to put him in the box. 
 But what he says goes to help my ideas. He points out 
 that Ling and Gwennie have had some big scheme on 
 about which they've been very close. I'll not deny that 
 I may have built up the wrong theory time will show 
 but it's got a framework of facts and I can't see that 
 they fit any other theory." 
 
 " How about Miss Greye-Stratton Mrs. Ling? " 
 asked Foyle. 
 
 Menzies scratched an eyebrow. " She's difficult," he 
 admitted. " Whether's she's deliberately in the game or 
 not it's hard to say. She's told Hallett something, too, 
 but she seems to have hypnotised him. He's as tight as 
 a nut when it comes to her. I've got hopes that I may 
 make him see reason and then I shall have something 
 to go on from the inside." 
 
 " You're going out with Cincinnati? " said the super- 
 intendent switching off the discussion. " I know you're 
 prejudiced against guns, but if you are I think I'd put 
 one in my pocket. You want to take care with the mob 
 you're handling." 
 
 " I don't know," said Menzies casually. " I'd as 
 likely as not hit the wrong person if I pulled a trigger. 
 I'm taking Royal. He can have one if he likes. He's 
 out looking after Hallett just now. The pair of them 
 
 [139]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 are eating somewhere. I daren't leave that young man 
 alone or he'll be trying the amateur detective game 
 again." 
 
 " Suit yourself then. Only don't blame me if Ling 
 and his pals lay you out." 
 
 " I'll look after that," retorted Menzies. 
 
 He disappeared into his own room and changed the 
 ink-stained alpaca jacket of office use for a tweed one. 
 Then he sent a messenger out for Royal. The detec- 
 tive-sergeant and Jimmie Hallett shortly showed up. 
 Menzies took them along to the subdued " con " man, 
 who was smoking his twelfth cigarette and returning 
 curt monosyllables to the attempts of one of his guar- 
 dians to drag him into conversation. 
 
 " Here we are, Cincinnati," announced the chief in- 
 spector cheerily. " Think we were never coming? This 
 is a fellow-countryman of yours. Mr. Hallett Mr. 
 Whiffle." 
 
 " Whiffen," corrected Cincinnati Red. 
 
 " Oh, yes. I beg your pardon. Whiffen it is. To 
 us and to some of the Central Office folk he answers to 
 the name of Cincinnati Red." 
 
 A flush mounted Cincinnati Red's handsome face. It 
 was a curious thing that this man, known as a cunning 
 felon in a dozen countries, should resent the tactless- 
 ness that introduced him to a fellow-American by a 
 nickname. He bowed austerely. 
 
 " We thought of taking a walk down to the Petit 
 [140]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Savoy," went on Menzies. " We might see that pal of 
 jours there." 
 
 " Oh, come, I say," remonstrated Cincinnati. 
 " That's going a bit beyond it. If anyone saw me get- 
 ting around with a couple of police officers where would 
 I be? " He spread his hands in protest. 
 
 " It would get you into bad odour with the boys, 
 wouldn't it? " said Menzies. " Kind of hurt your repu- 
 tation?" 
 
 Cincinnati Red was plainly alarmed at the course 
 events were taking. He was not a coward, but he never 
 asked for trouble. To give Ling away was one thing 
 to seek him out barefaced in the company of detectives 
 was quite another. Apart from any danger which Ling 
 himself might threaten it would be advertising himself 
 to the whole of the underworld as a man definitely unfit 
 to be trusted. Although his present prospects were 
 favourable enough there might at any moment arise an 
 occasion for him to co-operate with acquaintances in 
 some fresh nefarious scheme. 
 
 " It isn't that," he explained. " If I was seen walk- 
 ing with you it would give the game away." 
 
 The chief inspector twisted his fingers in his watch- 
 chain. He was as well aware of the course of Cincin- 
 nati's thoughts as the " con " man himself. " Comfort 
 yourself, laddie," he remarked. " We aren't quite so 
 fresh as that. Mr. Hallett here will walk with you and 
 Royal and I will look after ourselves. If you meet Ling 
 
 [141]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 or anyone else in his mob all you've got to do is to 
 fiddle with the top button of your jacket. Savvy? " 
 
 " That's all right," said Cincinnati. 
 
 " And just in case of accidents Mr. Hallett's 
 name is Mr. Green Mr. Samuel Green." 
 
 " Samuel Green it is. I understand, Mr. Menzies." 
 
 Jimmie Hallett found the walk through the West 
 End streets not without interest. Had not the circum- 
 stances of the introduction told him that Mr. Whiffen 
 was a crook he would have had difficulty in arriving 
 at that conclusion. Cincinnati Red could be a delight- 
 ful companion when he chose. It was part of his pro- 
 fession. He had read widely and well, and his study of 
 human nature had been vast. As a student of the news- 
 papers he knew that Jimmie had been the first to raise 
 an alarm after the murder, but not until now had he 
 supposed that Ling had any connection with the crime. 
 He laid himself out to pump Jimmie, but with little 
 success. Hallett was willing enough to talk, but Cin- 
 cinnati speedily found that he was expected to provide 
 any loose information that might be floating around, in- 
 stead of obtaining it. He dropped finesse and tried the 
 point-blank method. 
 
 " This is a rotten business for anyone from across 
 the water to walk into just when they are expecting to 
 enjoy themselves. I'd just hate to be worried if I were 
 in your place. How'd it come about, anyway? Did you 
 know Greye-Stratton before? " 
 [142]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " It's a long story," parried Jimmie warily. " What 
 about this Ling man? Known him long? " 
 
 " Some years," said Cincinnati. " You must net 
 imagine, Mr. Hallett, that because of the circumstances 
 in which we've met I am just a crook. I've had mis- 
 fortunes. I made a mistake once and I've paid for it. 
 You know what the police are they're the same all 
 over the world. They don't forgive men for rising 
 from their dead selves. I've come to this country to 
 start over again and my hands are clean. Yet here I 
 am pulled into this because I once knew Ling. You 
 saw the offensive manner of the ill-bred vulture 
 Menzies just now. I daren't resent it." 
 
 Jimmie had heard the same story before. Police 
 persecution is an unfailing text for the habitual crim- 
 inal. He scrutinised Mr. Whiffen with smiling incredu- 
 lity. 
 
 " Did you ever meet Ling's wife ? " he asked. 
 
 " His wife? " ejaculated Cincinnati. " I didn't know 
 he was married." 
 
 " I was wondering," said Jimmie. " That's all." 
 
 He followed Cincinnati through the swing doors of 
 the Petit Savoy and a waiter glided forward to lead 
 them to a table. Cincinnati brushed him aside and 
 led the way through the throng of diners to a further 
 room. Jimmie Hallett had to seek the support of a 
 chair to steady himself. He heard Cincinnati Red 
 speaking as one far off. 
 
 [143]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " Hullo, old man. How are you? Shake hands with 
 my friend here Mr. Samuel G. Green from Mobile." 
 
 The clean-shaven, keen-eyed man whom Cincinnati 
 had omitted to name was shaking hands with him across 
 the table. But Jimmie paid little attention to him. 
 For by his side, half risen from her chair, wide-eyed 
 and astonished, was Peggy Greye-Stratton. 
 
 [144]
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 " You ! " she gasped. " You here ? " 
 
 He, too, was taken aback. For a moment he was 
 incapable of consecutive thought. He had fiercely com- 
 bated, even to himself, Menzies' theory that she was a 
 willing associate of the people who were being hunted 
 down. But this encounter staggered his faith. If the 
 Scotland Yard man's suspicions were right it was not 
 at all a surprising thing that she should be dining quietly 
 with Ling Ling, her husband and the master brain of 
 the conspiracy. Yet so assiduously had Jimmie accus- 
 tomed himself to believe that she was rather a victim 
 than an accomplice that her presence came upon him 
 as a shock. 
 
 "You know my this lady?" someone said as 
 though mildly interested. 
 
 Jimmie pulled himself together. He threw a back- 
 ward glance at the door. Menzies and Royal had not 
 yet appeared. 
 
 " We have met before," he answered with a fine as- 
 sumption of coolness. "Miss Olney, isn't it? Can I 
 have a word with you? " He beckoned her aside, the 
 eyes of the other two men following them with curiosity. 
 "Is that man Ling?" he whispered. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " What " 
 
 He cut her short. " This is no time for questions. 
 [145]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 The police are immediately behind us. They are go- 
 ing to arrest him, and maybe you, too. You must get 
 away at once." He signalled to a waiter. " Is there 
 another way out? Some people are coming in at the 
 front whom we don't want to meet." 
 
 A gleam of gold between his fingers transformed the 
 waiter into a quick ally. " If you will step this way, 
 sir this way, madam." He pushed forward half a 
 dozen steps and flung open a door. They descended a 
 couple of steps into a derelict side street, and Ling, 
 who had watched them with a puzzled frown, turned 
 to Cincinnati as they disappeared. 
 
 " What in thunder's the game ? " 
 
 " Blest if I know," said Cincinnati. " Who's your 
 lady friend? She seemed surprised to see my friend." 
 He was fumbling with the buttons of his coat. 
 
 Suspicion sat black and lowering on Ling's face. 
 His hand dropped to his jacket pocket and Cincinnati 
 had a little apprehensive thrill as he heard a faint click 
 and the bottom corner of the jacket pocket poked the 
 edge of the table. He longed to look round to see if 
 Menzies had entered the room, but he dared not turn 
 his head. A waiter glided to his side and as he picked 
 up the menu card, and with deliberation, gave his orders, 
 he felt Ling's menacing gaze still upon him. The 
 waiter moved away. 
 
 " There's some monkey trick on the board," said 
 Ling in a low voice. " By God, I'll plug if you 
 
 [146]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 don't tell me what's on. What are you doing with 
 Hallett? Why did you bring him here? Answer. If 
 you move or turn a hair I'll blow a hole through you, 
 you dog ! " 
 
 Cincinnati was between the devil and the deep sea 
 with the detectives behind and a desperate man in front. 
 " Easy does it, Stewart," he said soothingly. " Easy 
 does it. I couldn't help myself." 
 
 Between clenched teeth Ling spat a vicious oath at 
 him. His eyes shot up and down the crowded aisles of 
 the restaurant, always coming back to Cincinnati Red's 
 face. There was a white scar an inch long above his left 
 eye which now showed crimson, giving him an indescrib- 
 ably sinister appearance. He withdrew his right hand 
 from his pocket, keeping it concealed with a serviette. 
 The serviette lay at last carelessly crumpled in front 
 of him and his hand was under it. 
 
 " See that ? " he growled menacingly. " There's two 
 men just come in. Pals of yours, I guess. You'd bet- 
 ter get your thinking apparatus started, for if those 
 splits offer to come near me it's going to be an almighty 
 bad time for you. You'd try to put it across me, you 
 tin horn ! I tell you, if I go out of this place with the 
 cuffs on, you'll go out feet first. Think it out quick, 
 you dirty squealer." 
 
 Cincinnati Red was frightened, badly frightened, 
 though his face did not show it, save perhaps that it 
 was whiter than usual. The waiter placed a plate of 
 
 [147]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 soup before him and his hand was steady as he lifted 
 the spoon. Ling himself, in spite of his passion, had 
 lowered his tone and not a soul in the room beyond 
 themselves knew that they were within measurable dis- 
 tance of tragedy. \ 
 
 " That back door those others used," he said quickly ; 
 " slip out. I'll hold the bulls back." 
 
 The serviette stirred impatiently. " Not on your tin- 
 type, my son. You don't pass on this hand. You'll 
 stick closer to me than a brother. I'll trust you while 
 my finger's on a gun and the gun on you." 
 
 Menzies and Royal had seated themselves three or 
 four tables away. Nothing seemingly was of less in- 
 terest to them than the two crooks. 
 
 " I can't think of anything," protested Cincinnati 
 sullenly. 
 
 " How much do they know ? " asked Ling sharply. 
 
 " They raided Gwennie's shanty this morning. 
 They're after her, but you mainly." 
 
 " You seem to know a hell of a lot," commented 
 Ling crisply. " I suppose you've arranged to give 'em 
 the office when they're to pull me. That would have 
 been all right if Hallett hadn't gone off at half cock. 
 Now the surprise packet is going to be mine. I'm 
 going to drink this liqueur and my attention is going to 
 seem to wander off you for a little minute only seem^ 
 mind you. There's a menu card down by your hand. 
 You've got a pencil. Now write on that that I suspect 
 
 [148]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 nothing that I'm going to take you round now to 
 the spot where the rest of the boys are. Then give it 
 to the waiter to pass to them." 
 
 The astuteness of the move appealed to Cincinnati. 
 Ling was playing for time, to avoid immediate arrest. 
 If the detectives thought they would make a bigger haul 
 by postponing matters they would do so. The " con " 
 man had no conscientious scruples about tricking them, 
 but he was uneasy when he thought of the hints which 
 Foyle had given him. If he could have safely betrayed 
 Ling he would. Still, life was, after all, worth clinging 
 to even if a certain proportion of it had to be spent 
 in prison. He followed Ling's instructions docilely and 
 over his shoulder saw Menzies read the card and nod 
 without looking up. Ling drank his liqueur slowly and 
 there was a more complacent expression about his thin 
 lips. Now that he had obtained a respite he seemed 
 in no hurry to go. He regarded the " con " man with 
 a sneer. " You're not fit for this sort of thing, Cincin- 
 nati," he said acidly. " You ought to stick to parlour 
 games. A yellow streak doesn't matter there." 
 
 The other leaned back in his chair unmoved by the 
 insult. " I'm not silly enough to butt my head against 
 a brick wall," he answered equably. " One of these 
 times we may meet on level terms." His eye dropped 
 meaningly on the serviette. 
 
 " Not if I know it," retorted Ling. " I like you bet- 
 ter as you are. You'll never be on level terms with 
 
 [149]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 me. I wonder what I'll do to you," he went on reflec- 
 tively. " Did you ever hear how they used to treat 
 witches in the old days in Massachusetts? They used 
 to stick red-hot knitting needles through their 
 tongues. It always seemed to me that wouldn't be a 
 bad punishment for squealers.'* He pushed back his 
 chair. " Get my coat, waiter. And this gentleman's." 
 
 They marched out of the restaurant side by side and 
 a little walk brought them into Shaftesbury Avenue. 
 Cincinnati had every nerve strained watching for an 
 opportunity to escape. But Ling's vigilance never re- 
 laxed. " I've got very attached to you this last half 
 hour," he explained in friendly tones. " I wouldn't 
 lose you for anything. I want to hear you pitch a tale 
 when we get time. It'll be a real pleasure to learn how 
 you've been working yourself to help us and how I've 
 been deceived by appearances into dealing with you 
 harshly." 
 
 This tribute to his inventive faculties did not seem 
 to afford Cincinnati Red any pronounced gratification. 
 He grunted something unintelligible. Then : " If I 
 were you, Stewart, I'd take a taxi. We'll never throw 
 these splits off walking." 
 
 " Well, well," exclaimed Ling in well-assumed sur- 
 prise. " It's you've got the brains. Fancy thinking 
 of that. Never mind. The walk won't hurt us, and 
 perhaps a little exercise'll do your chums good." 
 
 Cincinnati doubted it, but did not repeat his sugges- 
 [150]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 tion. He was very cloudy as to what his companion 
 proposed to do. The trick in the restaurant he had 
 supposed to be but a temporary expedient of Ling's in 
 order to get away. Not to give the detectives the slip 
 now they were in the open seemed like playing with 
 fire. He knew Ling as a dare-devil, but for a man 
 whose neck was in jeopardy he was carrying things 
 j auntily. 
 
 It was in Bloomsbury that they swerved off the main 
 road into one of those hideous streets of tall boarding- 
 houses with iron-railed areas and forbidding front doors 
 of mid- Victorian era. 
 
 " Nearly home, Cincinnati," encouraged Ling. 
 " Now you'll be able to see things move. We'll see if 
 there's any knitting needles in the house afterwards." 
 
 They ascended the steps of one of the most gloomy 
 looking of the houses and Ling inserted a key. He 
 carefully closed and bolted the door after him and or- 
 dered Cincinnati forward. There was a faint glimmer 
 of light from a gas lamp in the hall. 
 
 " The back room will do for us," said Ling. " Get 
 along." 
 
 A descent of a couple of steps led into a back sit- 
 ting-room. Ling pointed with his pistol he was car- 
 rying it openly in his hand now. " There's a chair. 
 Sit down. I want you with your back to me. That's 
 right. Now put your arms behind your back and keep 
 still." 
 
 [151]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Cincinnati Red felt something encircle his wrists and 
 a lashing was dextrously drawn tight. An involuntary 
 cry escaped him. Ling finished the knot and, stepping 
 in front, swung a smashing blow at the bound man's 
 face. 
 
 " That's on account," he said fiercely. " If you don't 
 keep still you'll get what's coming to you." He thrust 
 his face, contorted with passion, close to that of the 
 " con " man and Cincinnati shivered. " I can't do all 
 I'd like to," he went on, " but I'll pay the bill in full 
 some other time you bet I will." 
 
 He stooped and tied Cincinnati's ankles to the chair- 
 legs as effectively as he had bound his wrists. Then 
 he lifted chair and all and staggered with it into the 
 front room. He placed it by the curtained window 
 and stood for a moment breathless. Cincinnati was no 
 light weight. 
 
 " Now listen to me," he said incisively. " I'm going 
 to turn up the lights and draw the curtains back so 
 that your head and shoulders can be seen from the 
 street. Your detective pals will be in sight somewhere 
 and they'll be pleased to see you. I shall be behind 
 the door and don't forget I'll plug you good if you 
 play foxy. You've got to shake your head to them 
 see? Convey to them that everything isn't quite ready. 
 You know how to do it. Lean a bit forward as though 
 you were talking to somebody they can't see. It's up 
 to you to keep 'em stalled off for a quarter of an hour." 
 
 [152]
 
 He slipped the curtains back and retreated to the 
 doorway, out of the direct line of sight of anyone in 
 the street. Cincinnati cast a casual glance out on the 
 pavement and made a motion with his head as Ling had 
 directed. 
 
 He had a vision of Weir Menzies posed precariously 
 on the iron railings four feet away. There was a 
 smashing of glass as the detective leapt and the " con " 
 man heard a vehement oath from Ling, followed by two 
 sharp reports in quick succession. 
 
 Menzies tore furiously through one of the broken 
 panes at the window fastenings. Presently he flung up 
 the sash and half leapt, half tumbled within. Congreve 
 stayed without long enough to put a whistle to his lips 
 in swift summons and appeal and then followed his 
 chief. 
 
 Cincinnati Red had fainted with a bullet wound in 
 his shoulder. 
 
 [153]
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE chief inspector hurled himself blindly across the 
 room. When a man is shooting at short range it is 
 advisable to get at him as quickly as possible. But 
 Ling had no intention of waiting. His plans had mis- 
 carried somehow it was of no immediate importance 
 how. The chief thing was to get away. 
 
 He took the stairs three steps at a time and flung 
 up the landing window and cocked one leg through. The 
 back of the house looked sheer on to a builder's yard 
 twenty feet below. He poised himself, swore as he 
 found that a portion of his clothing had become en- 
 tangled in a nail in the window and turned momentarily. 
 Menzies saw his silhouette outlined against the window 
 for a second and the pistol flamed again. 
 
 " The back door, Royal," he roared as he appre- 
 hended the pursued man's purpose. " Get to the back 
 door." 
 
 Then Ling leapt. It was a desperate feat in the dark- 
 ness, but the crook's luck held. He fell heavily on his 
 feet and hands, straightened himself and waved a hand 
 lightly in the direction of the window. " Sorry I can't 
 stop," he cried. " Give my love to Cincinnati," and 
 disappeared at a dog trot behind piles of bricks and 
 stacks of drain pipes. 
 
 Weir Menzies drew a long breath. There were pas- 
 [154]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 sages in the comminatory service which occurred to 
 him as doing justice to the occasion, but he maintained 
 an eloquent silence. Words were too feeble. He could 
 hear Royal striking matches and muttering softly to 
 himself, and the sound made him feel better. He de- 
 scended slowly. 
 
 " All right," he said as he met his breathless subor- 
 dinate. " I know. There isn't any back way, of course. 
 You can't think of these things when you're in a hurry. 
 The tradesmen's entrance is in the basement in front. 
 He wouldn't have risked his neck had there been any 
 other way." 
 
 "He got away, then?" said the sergeant. Menzies 
 remembered that he always had considered one of Con- 
 greve's shortcomings a lack of tact. He answered 
 shortly : 
 
 " Jumped six or seven yards. Don't look at me like 
 that. If I'd been a lightweight I might have followed 
 him, but I'm getting too old for such foolishness. 
 Who's that at the door? " 
 
 " I blew my whistle, sir ; I expect it's the uniform 
 men. He can't have got far. We might run a cordon 
 round the neighbourhood." 
 
 " Oh, talk sense," retorted Menzies sharply. " He 
 may be a couple of miles away before we can get the 
 men. Hello, what's this?" 
 
 He held up his left hand. It was dripping with 
 blood. He walked closer to the light and examined it. 
 [155]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 with dispassionate curiosity. " That's funny," he 
 commented. " I must have got a rap across the 
 knuckles with a bullet." He wrapped his handkerchief 
 around the injured hand. " Go and open the door or 
 those fools'll have it down. I'm going to have a talk 
 with Cincinnati." 
 
 The peril of capture in which Ling had been 
 placed had not been due entirely to luck. His fertile 
 resources had conceived a plan for a strategic retreat 
 and was intended to combine business with pleasure 
 business in that Cincinnati was to keep the attention of 
 the detectives, while allowing him comparatively ample 
 time, to confound the active pursuit and pleasure so far 
 that he had turned the tool of the police against them- 
 selves. 
 
 There was only one flaw in this scheme and that 
 flaw had all but proved fatal the supposition that the 
 detectives would have implicit confidence in the good 
 faith of the " con " man. To one unprejudiced or not 
 tensely strung up by an emergency it might have seemed 
 an unlikely hypothesis. Weir Menzies might use 
 a crook, but he never made the mistake of trusting 
 one. 
 
 A doubt had crept into Menzies' mind at the very 
 moment he arrivecl at the Petit Savoy and observed 
 that Hallett was no longer with the " con " man. How 
 nearly he had been to acting then in spite of Cincin- 
 nati's dictated note no one but Royal knew. Against 
 
 [156]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 his instincts he had waited, but he had made up his 
 mind to afford little rope to Ling. So it was that he 
 had wasted no time when they had entered the house. 
 The latter part of Ling's stage management had been 
 entirely futile. For once in a while the chief inspector 
 let intuition carry him on. 
 
 Able now for the first time to see Cincinnati's pre- 
 dicament, he gave a grave nod of comprehension. Some 
 of the methods which Ling had employed became clear to 
 him. He cut the cords and slit away the sodden dress 
 coat at the shoulder. As deftly and gently as a woman 
 he examined it. 
 
 " A clean flesh wound," he murmured. " Nothing 
 much to hurt there. An inch or two lower and there 
 would have been no need to hunt for evidence to hang 
 Ling." 
 
 Royal had admitted a uniformed sergeant. " I 
 haven't troubled about the cordon, sir. It seems that 
 a builder's yard runs into a street backing on this. I 
 have sent a couple of men round there." 
 
 " Right you are. It might as well be done as a mat- 
 ter of form. They'll not see anything of Ling, though. 
 He'd got this all cut and dried and if we'd been a little 
 later getting in we'd not have had a ghost of a notion 
 which way he'd gone at all. If you've got a spare man 
 out there, sergeant, you might send for a doctor. This 
 chap's caught it." 
 
 Cincinnati Red opened his eyes and smiled uncer- 
 [157]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 tainlj. " Thought Ling was a better shot," he mur- 
 mured. 
 
 " Hello, you've come round, have you ? " asked 
 Menzies. " Sorry for you, Cincinnati. How he came 
 to miss me at that distance is more than I can fathom. 
 I'm big enough." 
 
 The " con " man's smile broadened. " Say, you don't 
 know Ling, do you? He wasn't shooting at you; he 
 meant it for me, all right." He winced with pain as 
 he moved slightly. " He always pays his scores, does 
 Ling. I guess I'll have something to say next time we 
 
 meet. If your people hadn't taken my gun away ! 
 
 He had me covered from the moment he saw me." 
 
 " I suspected that," said Menzies. " How'd you slip 
 Mr. Hallett?" 
 
 "Me? Slip Hallett?" repeated Cincinnati. 
 
 " That's what I said." 
 
 " He slipped me, you mean," retorted the other 
 querulously. " That's how it was that the whole thing 
 started. There was a girl with Ling. Hallett knew 
 her and carted her away through a side-door just be- 
 fore you came in. I thought it was part of the pro- 
 gramme." 
 
 Menzies lifted his hat and scratched his hair with 
 the brim the while he regarded Cincinnati with a steady 
 stare. Jimmie Hallett had spoilt things again. There 
 was some excuse for the bitterness with which his 
 thoughts dwelt on that young man, who seemed to have 
 
 [158]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 the faculty of making himself a continual stumbling 
 block to the investigation. Menzies had something of 
 a taste for romance in fiction. He even had no ob- 
 jection to it in real life as a general rule. But he hated 
 it when it became entangled in his business, as it often 
 did. One can as little be certain of what a woman 
 will do as of what a man infatuated with a woman 
 will do. 
 
 The expression of chagrin on the chief inspector's 
 face faded as quickly as it had arisen. " Well, not 
 exactly," he said with nonchalance. " He didn't do 
 quite what I wanted him to. Still, never mind. Here's 
 something else I wanted to ask you." He pulled a 
 photograph from his pocket the inevitable official 
 full and side face. " Do you recognize this man? " 
 
 Cincinnati surveyed the photograph. " Sure," he 
 answered. " That's ' Dago Sam ' that I told you 
 about he's in Ling's lot." 
 
 " Thanks." The detective put the photograph back 
 in his pocket. " I won't worry you any more now. I'll 
 leave you to look after things here a bit, Royal. I've 
 got several things I want to do and I mean to have a 
 night's rest for once." 
 
 Yet, in spite of his intentions it was well after mid- 
 night before he sought the repose afforded by Magers- 
 fontein Road, Upper Tooting. His way lay first to 
 the residence of a well-known coroner who lived in so 
 inaccessible a portion of North London that even a taxi 
 
 [159]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 driver had difficulty in locating his residence. Mr. 
 Fynne-Racton was a white haired, ruddy cheeked, little 
 man whose calling in no way corresponded with his ap- 
 pearance. Although his name was well known to 
 the general public his chief capacities were known 
 most fully in a more select circle the Microscopical 
 Society. 
 
 He peered over his spectacles at the tiny fragment of 
 cloth and the single thread which Weir Menzies took 
 from an envelope. " Certainly, certainly, Mr. Menzies,'* 
 he said. " I'll do my best and let you know. I wish 
 you'd have come to me earlier. Of course I can guess 
 that these things are concerned in the case we're all 
 talking about. I won't ask questions, though eh? " 
 
 " I might want you as an expert witness," explained 
 the detective. 
 
 " And I might be asked if you gave me any sugges- 
 tion," said Fynne-Racton. " Yes, yes, I understand. 
 I'll do my best, Mr. Menzies. I hope it will be satis- 
 factory. Good-night, good-night." 
 
 Menzies spent half an hour and a little longer at 
 Scotland Yard and so home to bed and slumbers that 
 did credit to his nerves. At breakfast the next morn- 
 ing one result of his labours stared him in the face as 
 he opened his favourite morning paper. A double 
 column portrait of " William Smith " appeared on the 
 splash page and big letters in the heading propounded 
 the query: 
 
 [160]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 "DO YOU KNOW THIS MAN? IF SO, TELL 
 THE POLICE. 
 
 " The above is a photograph of the mysterious 
 prisoner now under arrest for a murderous attempt 
 on the life of Mr. James Hallett, who, it will be 
 remembered, is one of the chief witnesses in the case 
 of the murder of Mr. Greye-Stratton. He refuses 
 to give any account of himself and the police are 
 anxious to trace his antecedents so that the full 
 facts, whether for or against him, may be brought 
 out when he is tried." 
 
 Menzies could be disingenuous when he liked. 
 Though even the omniscient reporter did not know it, he 
 had no longer much doubt on the subject of William 
 Smith, or " Dago Sam," as he preferred to think of 
 him. The hint given by the " con " man, even if later 
 questions failed to amplify it, would probably prove 
 sufficient to dig out all the personal history that was 
 wanted. Nevertheless there was no reason for allowing 
 either Gwennie Lyne or Ling to know how much he 
 knew of their confederate. The apparently earnest 
 search by newspaper might help to blind them as to 
 how far the investigation had progressed. 
 
 He threw the paper aside and accompanied by Bruin 
 walked reflectively round the garden with a sharp eye 
 
 [161]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 for caterpillars. Ten minutes before his usual time, he 
 put on his hat and coat, flicked away an imaginary spot 
 of dust from his boots, kissed his wife, and caught the 
 city-bound car. 
 
 [162]
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 HALLETT had not stopped to consider any complica- 
 tions that might arise when he had rushed Peggy 
 Greye-Stratton from the restaurant. Even had he done 
 so, his action would have been the same. In a flash he 
 had realised how the black cloud of suspicion already 
 formed against her by Menzies would be increased 
 should she be found in amicable association with Ling. 
 Even he himself held doubts, doubts which no reason- 
 ing could have stifled but which he ignored until there 
 should be more time to resolve them. 
 
 She obeyed him without question. He hustled her into 
 a taxi-cab and gave an order to the driver. He sat 
 by her side, his heart pumping hard. Outwardly, 
 though, he showed little indication of emotion. " A 
 close thing that," he commented coolly. 
 
 She was trembling violently. Her face was half 
 turned towards him. " You said the police the de- 
 tectives were there; why? What are they going to do? 
 How do they know?" A soft gloved hand lay on his 
 knee where she had placed it unconsciously in her 
 eagerness. He noticed that it was trembling. " I am 
 quite calm," she insisted, although her bearing gave 
 the lie to her words. " You must tell me." 
 
 " I am afraid," he spoke gently, though his heart 
 was aflame, " that your friend will be arrested." 
 [163]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " Oh ! " She dropped back against the soft cushions, 
 her fists clenched, her face as hard as stone. Then 
 suddenly she awoke to fierce life. " They mustn't. I 
 must go back, Mr. Hallett. Stop the cab. Why didn't 
 I think at first. I must warn him. Let me alone. If 
 you are a gentleman you will do as I say." 
 
 She was striving to open the door and he had to use 
 force to pull her back to her seat. " Sit still," he said. 
 " You can do no good now. It is too late. You have 
 got to think of yourself. If you go back you will be 
 arrested. Will that improve matters ? " 
 
 A fit of shivering shook her and she covered her face 
 with her hands. Jimmie watched her sombrely. To 
 him there was only one explanation of her agitation 
 fear for the man who was her husband. In a little while 
 the fit passed. 
 
 " I suppose you are right," she said colourlessly. 
 " But " her voice grew tense again " you don't 
 know what it means to me. You can't know." 
 
 " That's all right," he said soothingly. " I can 
 guess. We will talk over all that later. Nothing can 
 be done until you are more yourself. If if " he 
 suddenly became diffident " if money can do anything 
 to save him you must call on me. A loan, you know," 
 he ended tamely. 
 
 He saw the blue eyes fixed keenly on him with a 
 curious expression that was hard to analyse. " You 
 think that that man Ling is a murderer that I want 
 
 [164]
 
 to save him," she said breathlessly. And then, without 
 warning, she broke into laughter laughter that was 
 akin to hysterics. 
 
 It was then that Jimmie Hallett did a thing which 
 in the ordinary way he would have deemed impossible. 
 He stood up, took her by the shoulders, and shook her 
 roughly. 
 
 " Stop that. Stop it at once," he commanded 
 harshly. 
 
 He had never had occasion to deal with a woman in 
 hysterics before and the treatment was instinctive. He 
 was relieved to find it effective. The girl quieted after 
 one or two convulsive sobs. " I'm sorry," she gasped. 
 " I am better now. Where are we going? " 
 
 " I told the man to drive to the Monument. I didn't 
 know where you might like to go and the important 
 thing was to get away. One moment." He pushed his 
 head out of the window. " Which is the nearest main- 
 line depot to the Monument ? " he asked. 
 
 The man slowed up to answer the question. " Depot, 
 sir? " he repeated, puzzled. " Oh, you mean station. 
 You'll want London Bridge." 
 
 " That will do." He dropped back to his seat. " It 
 will be safer if we go a little way up the line and then 
 return," he exclaimed. " They might try to trace you 
 through the cabman." 
 
 She made a weary gesture of assent, and the rest of 
 the journey was accomplished in silence. A few rapid 
 1165]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 enquiries established that a train was about to start 
 for Sevenoaks, and chancing the possibility of a return 
 connection, Jimmie took two first-class singles. His 
 suggestion of a train journey was not entirely prompted 
 by the wish to blind the trail. That would have been 
 as satisfactorily achieved merely by entering a station. 
 He wanted to get at the bottom of the mystery sur- 
 rounding the girl, and though he was no admirer of the 
 compartment system of British railways, he recognised 
 the advantages that an empty compartment would af- 
 ford for a confidential interview. 
 
 The girl had rapidly regained her self-possession and 
 her abstraction vanished as the train started. She 
 flashed a half smile on him. " You will think 
 me very foolish to have given way like this, Mr. 
 Hallett. It's been good of you to take such trouble 
 to serve a comparative stranger. I can't thank you 
 properly." 
 
 " There's nothing to thank me for. I acted from 
 purely selfish motives. I wanted to satisfy my 
 curiosity you remember I have only half your 
 story." 
 
 She met his eyes steadily. There was still only the 
 faintest touch of colour in her cheeks. She had taken 
 off her gloves and was mechanically twisting them in 
 her lap. He leaned forward and possessed himself of 
 one of her hands. She tore it sharply away and a gush 
 of crimson swept over her face. 
 [166]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " You mustn't do that," she said hastily. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he muttered. " I forgot. 
 You are married." 
 
 The crimson in her cheeks deepened and she took a 
 long breath. Her blue eyes took on a new alertness. 
 He had half expected, half hoped that she would deny 
 it. Even the marriage certificate had not convinced 
 him entirely, and her being with Ling that night had 
 scarcely affected his hope. Yet he was a man of more 
 than ordinary acuteness and common sense. He was 
 ready to believe that there had been some incredible 
 mistake. 
 
 " I am married," she repeated. " And you know. 
 How did you learn ? " He could hear her breath catch 
 as she waited for his reply. 
 
 " I have seen the marriage certificate," he answered 
 simply. 
 
 " And the police," her words came incisively, " they 
 know?" 
 
 He nodded. " It was through them I learnt." 
 
 A revulsion of feeling was coming to him. Somehow 
 her fresh manner had broken the spell. There was 
 something of calculation about it of the fencer stand- 
 ing with weapon poised for offence or defence. Hith- 
 ertofore he had viewed her through a mist content to 
 accept what she had told him as the truth, and with faith 
 that the inexplicable things would in time be made 
 clear and her innocence apparent. He had brushed 
 
 [167]
 
 aside the suspicions of Menzies as the natural tendency 
 of the police officer to put the worst construction on 
 everything. 
 
 Now he began to wonder if after all Menzies had 
 been right. Was she merely a cunning adventuress 
 who had all along deluded him and laughed at his folly 
 behind his back with her criminal confederates. Look- 
 ing at it coolly, he told himself, he could see a score 
 of reasons why it should be so. A couple of deep lines 
 bit into his forehead. He had helped her escape and 
 her first words had shown her solicitude for Ling. 
 Afterwards she had tried to dismiss the impression she 
 had created or erected by an assumption of the mys- 
 terious. Quite possibly her whole intention since they 
 met in the police station had been to use him as a 
 stalking-horse. 
 
 He had been gazing unseeingly straight in front of 
 him. A light touch recalled his wandering thoughts. 
 " What are the police doing? " she asked. " You have 
 not told me how they knew that Ling and I would be 
 there." 
 
 His face hardened. She was taking it for granted 
 that she could pump him. " That is their secret," he 
 answered bluntly, " as much theirs as your secrets are 
 yours." 
 
 " I I'm sorry," she stammered timidly. " You 
 think I am taking advantage." 
 
 " I think, miss " he corrected himself " Mrs. 
 [168]
 
 Ling, that there are several matters you should answer 
 yourself before putting questions to me." 
 
 She winced at the stress he laid on the name and 
 drew herself together. " I am to suppose that you dis- 
 trust me," she said haughtily. 
 
 " That's a quaint way of putting it. Exactly what 
 reason is there that I should trust you?" He spoke 
 brutally. He felt the occasion was not one for delicacy 
 of language. " You have told me a story that I then 
 believed to be true a story of devotion to a scalywag 
 brother. You said nothing about a greater motive for 
 loyalty to your gang your marriage to one of the 
 most notorious criminals in the world. I shall see 
 something to laugh at in the way I've been strung 
 sometime." 
 
 Her lips were parted and her breast was heaving. 
 Undeniably pretty she was with her flushed face and 
 her eyes lighted till they looked like blue flame. There 
 was neither shame nor contrition within their depths. 
 " Why did you help me to-night, then? " she asked. 
 
 " Because " He wavered. " Oh, because I was 
 
 a fool, I suppose. I thought there might be some ex- 
 planation. I see now " he made a gesture with his 
 hand " there can't be. You vanished as soon as Scot- 
 land Yard got a hot scent. You were afraid I might 
 get dangerous and you played on me with a note to 
 get me into the hands of your pals. I fell for it all 
 right, all right." 
 
 [169]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 She stared at him dumbly. " You got my note, 
 then ? " she said after a pause. 
 
 He laughed shortly. " Yes, I got it all right. No 
 mistake about that. And Gwennie Lyne got me." 
 
 She was leaning forward with her elbows on her 
 knees, troubled thought in her face. " Gwennie Lyne? 
 But you never came. And I don't know Gwennie Lyne. 
 i. . . What address did you go to? " 
 
 " The address you gave 1-40 Ludford Road, Brix- 
 ton." 
 
 " That wasn't it." She passed her hand over her 
 brow. " There's been some trickery I don't under- 
 stand. It was quite another place. I wanted a friend. 
 . . . You didn't come. ... I thought oh, I didn't 
 blame you- There was no reason why you should run 
 any risks to help me. ..." 
 
 He watched her with obvious disbelief. 
 
 " You think I'm lying," she said with another change 
 of manner. " Very well. You shall see and learn for 
 yourself. I will prove to you that I am not lying 
 that I have not tricked you. You can keep your own 
 counsel. All I ask is that you will not betray mine." 
 
 " You may rely on me," he said icily. 
 
 The train ran into Sevenoaks and they alighted. 
 There was a return train within a quarter of an hour 
 and this they caught. Both were grimly silent on the 
 return journey and for the most part JimmJe kept his 
 eyes resolutely fixed on the blank blackness of the win- 
 
 [170]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 dow. Once he surprised her watching him with an air 
 of wistfulness. " A consummate actress," he thought 
 and shifted his gaze again to the window. To question 
 her would be only to invite another series of lies. 
 
 At London Bridge she took command, piloting him 
 to the Bank and stopping a motor bus with an im- 
 perative wave of the hand. They ran through into the 
 gloomy heart of the East End. " This is Shadwell," 
 she said. " We get off here." 
 
 It was hard to reconcile the dainty figure in the neat 
 grey costume with the slums and squalor into which 
 they entered. Through narrow, desolate streets she led 
 him, past here and there a drunken man or a riotous 
 group racing from one public-house to another. At 
 last she paused and tapped with her bare knuckles on 
 the unpainted door of a tumble-down house. He was 
 not without courage, but he hesitated. 
 
 " Are you going in there? " 
 
 " Yes. Are you afraid ? " she taunted. 
 
 " I am," he admitted. " I may tell you I am armed." 
 
 Her lips curled. He got a vague glimpse of a slat- 
 ternly old woman with curious eyes staring at them, 
 and then the girl, without stopping to see whether he 
 would follow, led the way within. He followed, men- 
 tally calling himself a fool. The old woman closed the 
 door and they were left in darkness. 
 
 " Take my hand," she said, " I know the way. The 
 fourth stair up is broken." 
 
 [171]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 The hand he groped for and found was ice cold. He 
 dragged his pistol out of his pocket and held it ready 
 for instant use. There was going to be no repetition 
 of the Gwennie Lyne trick if he could help it. At the 
 first sign of treachery he was determined to shoot. 
 He heard the creak of a door on rusty hinges as she 
 pushed it back and released his hand from hers with 
 a sudden jerk. 
 
 A thin light filtered out and he beheld a wretchedly 
 furnished room with something lying on a mattress in 
 the farther corner. He advanced cautiously, weapon 
 ready. She pushed the door to and his pistol dropped 
 as he saw the haggard, unshaven face of the sleeping 
 man on the mattress. A man who turned restlessly at 
 their entrance. 
 
 She pointed to the corner. " There you are, Mr. 
 Hallett. That's my brother, James Errol. You have 
 his life in your hands if you want to fetch the police." 
 
 [1721
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 SHE faced him by the thin light of the cheap oil lamp, 
 her head defiantly tilted. He remained dumb, the pistol 
 dangling by his side till he became conscious of the in- 
 congruity and replaced it in his pocket. The sudden 
 spectacle of the sick man lying there in that miserable 
 hovel had shorn him for the moment of the power of 
 consecutive thought. 
 
 She lifted the lamp to examine the sleeping man and, 
 replacing it on the table, readjusted a pillow with ten- 
 der fingers. She rose and pushed forward a rickety 
 chair. He complied with the unspoken invitation. 
 
 " He is a fugitive from justice." She spoke softly 
 lest the sleeper be disturbed. " Whatever he is, scoun- 
 drel though you think him, can I do less? But for me 
 he would have been helpless. Would you have me 
 desert him ? Do you think " she made a gesture of 
 disgust " that I like living in this place these two 
 sordid rooms which are the only place in London I 
 could hide him in? Why, I daren't even have a doctor 
 for fear of betrayal. And you thought that I was in 
 league with the people who brought him to this. Well 
 I am in league. They know where he is and a single 
 word would bring the police down here." 
 
 The fire in her low tone challenged him to still con- 
 demn her. Once before he had reasoned out a theory 
 
 [173]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 of her attitude a theory that had partly been broken 
 down by the open scepticism of Menzies until the cul- 
 minating point had been reached when he found her 
 dining with Ling. At first the apparent significance of 
 that had been lost, but it had been borne upon him with 
 ever-increasing force that it was evidence that the letter 
 luring him to Gwennie Lyne's house was no forgery but 
 deliberately written by her. Now again he had to go 
 back to the old line of reasoning. He wondered that 
 he had permitted anything to throw him off it. Why, 
 it was plain to the most dense intellect. Who so likely 
 to pay off the old score of hatred of his father by a 
 bullet than this mean, reckless waster, Errol. 
 
 " It was he who killed Mr. Greye-Stratton ? " he 
 whispered hoarsely. 
 
 Her reply was inaudible. But the drawn face, the 
 twitching hands left it in no doubt. 
 
 Without warning the man on the pallet raised him- 
 self on one elbow, his features ghastly in the dim light. 
 
 " Who says I killed him ? " he gasped in a cracked 
 voice. " It's a lie a lie, I tell you. Who's that you've 
 got there, Peggy? Damn this light. I can't see. Tell 
 him it's a lie an infernal lie. I never laid a finger on 
 the old man old man old man old devil ! " He 
 gasped out the last word with shrill vindictiveness and 
 fell back breathless. 
 
 She hurriedly lifted a small bottle from the mantel- 
 piece, poured a little of the contents into a glass, and 
 
 [174]
 
 supported her brother's head while he drank, talking 
 soothingly to him the while. In a little while his regular 
 breathing told that he was asleep. 
 
 " I think you had better go now," she said brokenly. 
 " I don't know why I should have brought you here 
 why it should matter to me what you think. You have 
 seen and you are at liberty to believe what you like." 
 
 " Don't let us talk nonsense," he said briskly. " I 
 begin to see that I have acted like a blackguard, but 
 I can't leave you like this." He rose, crossed over to 
 her, and laid a hand on her shoulder. " You have 
 trusted me with the most important thing. Now you 
 must trust me fully. You need a friend and whether 
 you like it or not I am going to see this through. 
 Where's the other room you spoke of? Let's go in 
 there and talk." 
 
 With a glance at her brother she lit a candle and 
 led him to the adjoining room, as poorly furnished as 
 the other. " I can't offer you even a cup of tea, Mr. 
 Hallett," she said with a feeble attempt at cheerful- 
 ness. " There is no gas and the fires are out." 
 
 " I don't mind defects in hospitality," he said. 
 " They can be remedied some other time. Now tell 
 me how it all came about and we'll see what's to be 
 done." 
 
 She paused as though to put her thoughts into form. 
 " You wondered why I never told you I was married," 
 she said wearily. " It is true, all that you know. I 
 [175]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 am married to that man " a shudder swept her slim 
 frame " Ling. If there is any living thing that I de- 
 test, hate, and despise it is he. I want you to believe it, 
 Mr. Hallett, when I say that I am his wife only in 
 name. Never ! Never ! " he could see her face glow 
 with her vehemence in the candle light " shall I be 
 anything more. He was a friend of my brother's he 
 had a hold on him, and to save him I consented to a 
 marriage. It was a marriage of form and we separated 
 at the registry office. Not even for my brother could I 
 do more." 
 
 " This was before the death of your father? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then it was Ling who knew he had committed 
 forgery? It was he who held the threat of expos- 
 ure over your head. The price you paid was mar- 
 riage ? " 
 
 " That was part of the price. I thought it would 
 silence him to have me bear the same name as himself. 
 It was he who came to my flat the night of the murder 
 with the forged cheques in his hand and demanded the 
 full price of his silence that I should take my place 
 as his wife." 
 
 Jimmie bit his lip. He promised himself there should 
 be a reckoning if ever he ran across Ling again. 
 
 " Then the murder took place. It was not difficult 
 for me to guess what had happened when I read of it 
 and I spent a terrible hour. I knew that the detectives 
 
 [176]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 would soon learn enough to put them on the track and 
 that at any moment they might seek me out. So I went 
 to them, partly because I was anxious to see what they 
 knew, partly because I knew suspicion might be aroused 
 if I seemed to avoid them. You know more or less 
 what happened. Then I was brought up for you to 
 indentify me and I confess I had an anxious few minutes 
 while you were walking up and down that line of women. 
 I knew you had recognised me and when you denied it 
 to the officers I could I could have done anything for 
 you. 
 
 " I hadn't a single friend in whom I could confide and 
 then you appeared. I told you more much more than 
 I intended to and when you urged me to give the police 
 full details I was half tempted to comply. But it 
 seemed too great a risk to take. If there was any doubt 
 
 if there had seemed any doubt about my brother. 
 
 How could I? To have told the police would have been 
 to betray him. 
 
 " I realised how desperate things were when I knew 
 I was being shadowed and you stopped the detectives. 
 I hurried back to my flat and outside in the street I 
 met Ling. I had neither the chance nor the desire to 
 avoid him. * I have been running great risks to see 
 you,' he said. ' You must come with me at once. Your 
 brother is hurt.' 
 
 " I distrusted him and my suspicion must have shown 
 itself. He let me see plainly that he knew the truth, 
 
 [177]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 and he added that my brother was lying injured at a 
 house in the East End. ' He is nothing to me,' he 
 added. * He can die there like a dog in a kennel or the 
 police can patch him up for another dog's death. There 
 is the address.' He pushed a scrap of paper into my 
 hand and went away without another word. 
 
 " If he had offered to accompany me I fear I should 
 not have come. He must have known that. He was 
 astute enough to understand that once I came here he 
 could see me whenever he wanted. I found my brother 
 as you have seen him. He was suffering from a knife 
 thrust in the ribs which he told me was due to an acci- 
 dent. He was in great pain and I did not question him 
 too much. Someone had bandaged it up, and the old 
 woman below the landlady of this house was watch- 
 ing him. He had been brought here by two other men, 
 she said. She did not know anything about him, how 
 he had been injured nor who the people were who 
 brought him. They had taken the two rooms and told 
 her a lady would come to look after him. She wasn't 
 one to ask questions or to pry into other folks' business 
 as long as they paid their rent regularly. You know 
 the kind of thing. It was then I wrote the note to you 
 and gave it to her with some money to have sent to 
 you." 
 
 " The old Jezebel," said Jimmie. " She must have 
 made it over to Ling, or Gwennie Lyne, and they had 
 the address altered." 
 
 [178]
 
 " Well, you never came. I saw to my brother as well 
 as I could, draining on my memory of some red cross 
 classes I once attended. I think I was near going mad 
 at night with my impotence, and the loneliness, and the 
 thought of his peril. At about nine o'clock Ling came. 
 He entered the room without knock or ceremony and 
 smoking a cigar. He laughed when he saw how terri- 
 fied I was. ' All right,' he said. ' I'm not going to hurt 
 a hair of your head. You ought to be grateful to me, 
 young lady, for all the trouble I've been taking. Still 
 it's a family affair and I couldn't do less, could I? ' He 
 grinned at me hatefully and I don't know what I an- 1 
 swered. ' You're a little bit off colour to-night,' he 
 went on. * I don't wonder. You haven't been used 
 to this sort of thing. It would be wise to be civil, 
 though.' 
 
 " He left me in no doubt as to the meaning of his 
 hint and I constrained myself to a formal politeness. 
 * I'll not worry you any further to-night,' he said, * but 
 we've got to look our positions in the face. Now by 
 to-morrow you'll probably be glad of a change. I'll 
 come for you at seven o'clock and we'll go and have a 
 dinner somewhere and talk things out sensibly. Mrs. 
 Buttle here will look after your brother for an hour or 
 two.' 
 
 " I was in his power, and of course there was no 
 question of refusing. I had to make every sacrifice but 
 the last one. To-night he called and we went to the 
 
 [179]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 place where you met us. I don't know how long we 
 had been there, but we had practically finished dinner. 
 He would talk of nothing but indifferent subjects, but 
 there was something on his mind I felt sure. ' Pleasure 
 first,' he said when I tried to pin him down. * We'll leave 
 business till we have eaten.' 
 
 " Then when you came in I was bewildered. You 
 rushed me off my feet, and not till we were in the cab 
 did I realise what the arrest of Ling would mean. He 
 wouldn't hesitate for a moment to betray my brother 
 if he learned he is himself suspected. If Mr. Menzies 
 has arrested Ling he will probably know all by this 
 time." She glanced apprehensively towards the door, as 
 though she feared the immediate entrance of the police. 
 " Now I have told you everything, Mr. Hallett. Can 
 I ask you now what what " 
 
 He understood her hesitation to frame the question 
 as he understood now her eagerness to extract informa- 
 tion from him in the train. But there was still some- 
 thing inexplicable on the face of her story. No reason, 
 no motive other than that of a sort of blackmail had 
 been given for Ling's actions. The personality of Ling 
 as he understood it was entirely alien to any unselfish 
 action. So far as her story had gone the man had com- 
 mitted no crime no legal crime that would bring him 
 within the law. Why then the attempt on his life by 
 William Smith, why the attempt to make him a prisoner 
 
 [180]
 
 by Gwennie Lyne, why the apparent importance which 
 Menzies attached to the arrest of Ling? 
 
 He explained what had happened so far as he knew 
 it, and little puzzled wrinkles appeared in her white 
 forehead. " Now Ling isn't an altruist," he ended, 
 " any more than Menzies is a fool. The gang has not 
 been butting into this game merely to save your 
 brother. And Menzies isn't red hot after them for no 
 reason at all. If the case were as you think it would 
 be simple enough. The hue and cry would be all after 
 him." He made a motion of his hand towards the other 
 room. 
 
 "Ah!" She looked at him thoughtfully and then 
 walked slowly up and down the narrow confines of 
 the apartment. " It's no good," she exclaimed at 
 last. 
 
 " It may be as you say, but it's all too complex for me. 
 Even if someone else is bound up with this crime, my 
 brother's danger remains the same. That is all that con- 
 cerns me." 
 
 Hallett found something to admire in the singleness 
 of purpose that actuated the girl, even though it was 
 to shield a man who was certainly a scoundrel and, in 
 all probability, a murderer. " There is yourself to be 
 considered," he remonstrated. " You are in deep 
 waters." 
 
 " I shall find a way out." Her tone belied the con- 
 fidence of her words. 
 
 [181]
 
 He scratched his chin, " The first thing to do is to 
 get your brother away from here somewhere where 
 these crooks cannot get at him." 
 
 She shook her head. " That is out of the question. 
 It might kill him to be moved. Besides, there is Mrs. 
 Buttle. She would tell Ling and he would find me some- 
 how." 
 
 " Then there is only one other thing. This is no 
 place for you. You had better get decent lodgings 
 somewhere and I will stay here. You can rely I will 
 do everything possible for your brother." 
 
 Again she shook her head. " That is quite out of the 
 question, though I am grateful for the offer. The only 
 chance of safety is for me to remain here." 
 
 He lost patience. " Hang it all," he cried. " You 
 can't. This house this neighbourhood why how can 
 a child like you stay here alone? If you won't allow 
 me to take your place I must get rooms in the neigh- 
 bourhood." 
 
 " I thank you very much, Mr. Hallett," she said, 
 " but you will see it is impossible. Anything you did 
 would only attract attention to the house. You can 
 see that. I promise you, if you like, that should ever I 
 need you I will send for you. It will be a comfort to 
 know that I have at least one honest friend on whom 
 I can rely." 
 
 He was still uncertain. " I don't like it," he grum- 
 bled. " Anything might happen suddenly. It would 
 
 [182]
 
 take an hour to fetch me even if you had a reliable mes- 
 senger." Then, as she showed no signs of relenting, 
 " Very well, it shall be as you say. Here " he took his 
 automatic from his pocket and passed it to her " you 
 might feel safer if you have this. Do you understand 
 how it works ? " 
 
 He explained the mechanism to her. She held the 
 weapon rigidly at arm's length. "Like this?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " Great Jehosophat, no ! That is how they do it on 
 the stage. Take your finger off the trigger. Never 
 put it there till you mean it to go off. And use the 
 second finger, not the first. Point your first finger along 
 the barrel. If you haven't time to take aim, all you 
 nave got to do is to point your finger and you will hit 
 whatever you are pointing at. Hold your arm more 
 loosely. That's the idea. Now put it away. I feel 
 better to think you've got it." 
 
 She held out her hand to him. " Thank you. And 
 now good-night, Mr. Hallett. I will write you some- 
 time." 
 
 He took her hand and held it. " Do you know that 
 I was just going without asking you the name of this 
 place? I might have something to tell you, you 
 know." 
 
 She released herself with some confusion. " I will 
 write it down." She scribbled for a second and then 
 passed him the address. 
 
 [183]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " A very interesting picture," sneered a voice. " Mr. 
 Hallett, I presume or Mr. Green, from Mobile? " 
 
 The girl gasped. Red-eyed and flushed, with a rent 
 in his jacket, Ling was regarding them from the 
 doorway. 
 
 [184]
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 HALLETT'S fists clenched. He was poised for a rush 
 when restraining fingers on his sleeve recalled to him 
 that he had not only himself to consider. There might 
 be a satisfaction in thrashing Ling, but it would be too 
 dearly paid for. Moreover, for all they knew, he might 
 not be alone. He was leaning against the doorpost with 
 one hand in his jacket pocket. There was a cigar be- 
 tween his teeth and his lower jaw jutted out. His green 
 eyes, alert and menacing, took in the little by-play that 
 restrained Jimmie. He had evidently expected and been 
 prepared for violence. 
 
 Jimmie dropped his hands with a boyish laugh. " My 
 name's Hallett," he said. " We have met before. Mr. 
 Ling, isn't it? This is rather unexpected. I thought 
 some friends of yours had arranged an invitation for 
 you? " 
 
 Ling grinned. " They sure did, sonny boy. They 
 held four aces but I scooped the pot with a straight 
 flush. I wondered what your little game was. Now I 
 know." He continued to inflect a meaning into his 
 words that made the blood surge in Jimmie's veins. " I 
 thought you'd be the kind of fool that'd come right on 
 here. You see, Peggy was hardly likely to desert her 
 darling brother and you wouldn't leave her, eh? How's 
 that for Sherlock Holmes ? It won't do, though, it won't 
 
 [ 185 ]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 do. I'll have to be seeing a lawyer about this. Lucky 
 I'm an indulgent husband, eh, Peggy ? " His voice 
 changed. " You stand right where you are, Hallett. It 
 won't be healthy for you if you take another step like 
 that. I hate violence especially before ladies." 
 
 The other man remained stock-still. He knew what 
 the hand in Ling's pocket was gripping. His mind was 
 actively seeking for a solution of the immediate problem. 
 Ling held the doorway, the only exit from the room, 
 and he recognised perfectly well that this man, whose 
 friends had twice before made attempts to secure his 
 silence, was little likely to let him go again. If he had 
 not made over the gun to Peggy he could have felt on 
 more level terms. 
 
 " Sherlock Holmes would have carried it a bit fur- 
 ther," he said. " Has it flashed across that limpid intel- 
 lect of yours that I'd take care not to put my head into 
 the lion's jaws if I'd not taken precautions to keep 
 them propped open. If this place isn't surrounded now 
 it will be in five minutes. Those friends you missed 
 won't be put off a second time." 
 
 Ling started. Then his features relaxed and he 
 laughed. 
 
 " Good bluff," he said. " You nearly had me stam- 
 peded that time. But it's no go. You've sent out no 
 message since you came in and if you'd given it before 
 the splits would have been here by now." He spat on the 
 boarded floor. " Say, Mr. Hallett," he went on with 
 
 [186]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 the air of a man laying down a tentative business pro- 
 posal. " I've got you now cold. Suppose we come to 
 terms. I'm willing to overlook the compromising cir- 
 cumstances of your little jaunt with my wife to- 
 night " 
 
 " That's enough," ordered Hallett coldly. " If you 
 insult this lady again, gun or no gun I'll smash your 
 lying tongue down your throat." 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " The green eyes gleamed amusedly on 
 the young man. " I must be careful. I didn't mean 
 to get your goat. We'll call it off then. What I'm 
 aiming at is this. There's no sense in making things- 
 more uncomfortable than we've got to. If you put me 
 to it I've got to see that you keep out of mischief. 
 Give me your word that you'll take the first boat back 
 to New York and never say anything about what you 
 may know and I'll take it. That's fair, and it isn't 
 everyone who would do it." 
 
 " You want to get me out of the way? " 
 
 " That's so. Stay out of England for a year and 
 keep your mouth shut." 
 
 Jimmie stroked his upper lip. " That's very obliging 
 of you, Ling. I feel flattered at your supposition that , 
 I should keep my word. I seem to be an embarrass- 
 ment though I don't know why." 
 
 " You are an embarrassment." 
 
 " Why ? " repeated Jimmie artlessly. 
 
 He had one hand behind his back and was signalling 
 [187]
 
 to Peggy. He hoped fervently that she would under- 
 stand what it meant and pass the pistol. Once he re- 
 gained that he could close the conversation when he 
 liked. 
 
 " Cut it out," retorted Ling. " You don't need tell- 
 ing. I'm making you a fair offer. Will you take it 
 or leave it ? " 
 
 Hallett's concealed hand waved frantically. Would 
 she never understand? " My dear friend," he said 
 airily. " Can't you see I'm trying to make up my 
 mind. I haven't your faculty of quick decision. My 
 wits move slowly. If you'd only tell me why. You'll 
 forgive me, but I don't quite see where you come in. 
 I could understand why some people should wish me 
 er disposed of, but although I dislike your appearance 
 and your ways, there's nothing I could do would hurt 
 .you. Why can't you live and let live? " 
 
 Ling eyed him doubtfully. " This is funny, isn't it? 
 I'm not going to stay here all night. I've sent for some 
 people who won't be disposed to argue with you. You'd 
 better hurry and make up your mind." 
 
 It was evident that the girl would never understand 
 the meaning of that signalling hand. Jimmie shrugged 
 his shoulders and remained in an attitude of thought. 
 A querulous voice came from the outer room. 
 
 " Peggy ! . . . Gone away again." The voice was 
 like that of a plaintive child except that an unchildlike 
 <oath slipped out. " And she calls herself a sister . . . 
 
 [188]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 leaving me here like this . . . alone with the old man 
 ... all alone. with the old man. ... I tell you I 
 didn't I couldn't. . . . He's a liar. . . . Peggy, 
 come and take him off. . . . Those long fingers 
 long, lean scraggy fingers. . . . He'll strangle me. 
 . . . Blast it, why don't you come and take him 
 off." 
 
 The high-pitched voice rang out in shrill alarm. Ling 
 had taken a pace back into the other room, but he 
 was too cautious to take his eyes off Hallett. " It's 
 Errol," he laughed. " Gave me a start for a minute. 
 Make's you feel as if someone's walking over your 
 grave." 
 
 " He's delirious," cried Peggy. " I must go to him." 
 She raised her voice. " All right. I'm coming." 
 
 " Not by a jugful you don't," said Ling. " He 
 won't hurt for five minutes. I don't allow anyone to get 
 behind me till Mr. Hallett here's made up his mind not 
 even you, Peggy." 
 
 The voice inside moaned and then burst into a series 
 of insane chuckles. " He's going now. . . . He thinks 
 he's going to get away but he won't. . . . It's no good 
 your hiding. ... I can see you. I'll get you this 
 time." 
 
 Through the open door Jimmie could now see him. 
 He had pulled himself off the pallet and, lamp in hand, 
 was advancing stealthily towards Ling, crouching as- 
 he moved and still chuckling. Jimmie's hand fell calmly 
 
 [189]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 on the back of the chair nearest him. Things were 
 coming his way. 
 
 The changing shadows caused by the lamp-light told 
 Ling something of what was happening. His head 
 shifted to look over his shoulder for the fraction of a 
 second just long enough for Jimmie to lift the chair 
 and bring it down with crushing force. Ling crumpled 
 limply and went down. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" shrieked Errol. "That's got the old 
 devil. . . . Now we'll burn him . . . we'll make sure 
 this time." 
 
 Before either of them could anticipate his purpose 
 he had flung the lamp on the stunned man. There was 
 a smashing of glass and a bolt of flame shot upwards. 
 Peggy Greye-Stratton sprang forward with a horrified 
 cry, but already Jimmie had his coat off and spread 
 over the flames which had begun to lick at Ling's body. 
 Luckily the reservoir of the lamp was of metal and 
 little of the oil had escaped. In a few minutes he had 
 the flames under. 
 
 He stood up, breathing hard. The girl was coaxing 
 her brother back to bed and he was still weakly shout- 
 ing in his delirium. Hallett went to her aid, but he 
 found his help unnecessary. Errol was as weak as a 
 kitten. He lay on his mattress panting. 
 
 " I can manage now," she said. " You had better go, 
 Mr. Hallett. He said he had sent for help. Go go 
 quick." 
 
 [190]
 
 " I don't know about that. It's impossible to leave 
 you here alone now." 
 
 Errol, exhausted, had fallen asleep once more. She 
 came over to Jimmie. " It's no worse for me now than 
 it was before. Besides, what can you do. You will be 
 sacrificing yourself for no reason at all." She literally 
 pushed him towards the door. " Please, please," she 
 entreated. 
 
 A little thrill of delight passed through him as he 
 recognised that all her alarm was for him. There was 
 reason in her persuasions, too. Any danger that she 
 was in was not likely to be either increased by what had 
 happened or diminished by his further presence. He 
 would only be exposing himself to the needless risk of 
 being cut off by Ling's friends. 
 
 " I suppose I'd better," he said reluctantly, 
 " but first I'll have a look at Ling. I didn't hit him 
 as hard as I might, but it would be as well to make 
 sure." 
 
 She permitted him to return to examine Ling, and 
 as soon as he had reassured himself that the man was 
 only stunned he contemplated his work with some satis- 
 faction. Here and there the blazing oil had scorched 
 his clothes, but had done no further damage. 
 
 " Hurry," said the girl. " Oh, do hurry." 
 
 " Just one moment." He hastily ran his hands 
 through the unconscious man's pockets. A few papers 
 from the breast pocket he stuffed into his own. In the 
 
 [191]
 
 right-hand jacket pocket he found a pistol, which he 
 also took possession of. He stood up. 
 
 " There, that's done." 
 
 " You are going now? ' 
 
 " Yes, I'm going." He caught both her hands in his 
 impulsively. " If things had been different, Peggy 
 if if " 
 
 She released herself, flushing hotly. " You mustn't 
 you mustn't ! " she cried. " Oh, why don't you go." 
 
 " Good-bye," he said abruptly and swung out on to 
 the dark stairs. As he fumbled for the latch of the 
 front door it was pushed open from without. He came 
 face to face with a woman on the step. He recognised 
 the slattern who had admitted Peggy and himself. 
 She gave a short ejaculation of surprise and then 
 brushed by him. 
 
 He moved thoughtfully out into the open street. 
 Something there was about her that seemed familiar 
 it might have been the eyes, the walk, or her voice. He 
 had gone a hundred yards when he came to a sudden 
 halt. 
 
 " I'd bet a thousand dollars to a cent that that 
 woman's Gwennie Lyne." 
 
 The discovery half inclined him to return. The dark 
 figures of two men brushed by him and he walked quickly 
 on, turning as the sound of their feet died away. He 
 moved back till he was opposite the house and watched, 
 irresolute. No sound came from it and he turned away 
 
 [192]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 again. It seemed hours before he had got clear of those 
 desolate streets into a main road and encountered the 
 comforting blue uniform of a constable. To him he 
 addressed a question. 
 
 " Taxi," repeated the man, studying him with specu- 
 lation. " Lord bless your heart. You won't get a taxi 
 here at this time of the night. Where do you want to 
 go? " 
 
 His eyes opened wider as Jimmie named his hotel. 
 But he made no comment. " Keep straight on till you 
 get into the city," he said. " Then you might get a 
 cab." 
 
 It was three o'clock in the morning, before, wearied 
 in body and mind, he dropped thankfully into bed. 
 
 He was still in bed when the detective arrived at his 
 hotel and he sat up to receive him. His chin was jutted 
 out doggedly and there was a wary look in his eye. He 
 regarded the chief inspector, ominous that events which 
 concerned him were afoot but uncertain how much was 
 known. 
 
 " Come in, Menzies," he said heartily. " I couldn't 
 stop to see the fun out last night because I met a friend 
 and wanted to get her out of the way of any trouble. 
 How did it go? " 
 
 Menzies dropped to rest at the foot of the bed. " I 
 didn't come up here last night," he said solemnly, " be- 
 cause I couldn't trust myself not to break your jaw." 
 
 Jimmie's eyebrows shot up in ingenuous astonish- 
 [193]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 ment. " So ! I didn't know you allowed personal feel- 
 ings to interfere with your duty. You're a pugnacious 
 brute, Menzies. There's some cigarettes on the table 
 behind you. Help yourself and pass me one. Now " 
 he sent out a blue ring of smoke " tell me why you 
 want to smash me." 
 
 His attitude was different from what Menzies had 
 expected. There might have been defiance, a blank wall 
 of obstinacy, but this touch of badinage, even though 
 the defiance and obstinacy might still be behind it, was 
 a little more difficult. Menzies' opinion of Hallett went 
 up. He exhibited his bandaged hand. 
 
 " This is one reason. Cincinnati Red got another and 
 worse one. I don't know how he is this morning, but 
 if he dies it's you who'll have to be thanked." He had 
 no fear of the " con " man's wound proving fatal, but 
 Jimmie's chaff needed a little quenching. 
 
 Hallett's face grew more serious. "Gun-play, eh? 
 I'm sorry to hear that. Still, you bagged your man." 
 
 " Bagged hell," said Menzies. " I beg your pardon 
 but even my vicar could forgive me in the circumstances. 
 Of course we didn't. However, I didn't come here to 
 satisfy your curiosity but my own. Where did you 
 leave that woman? Where is she now? " 
 
 Hallett lay back in bed and laughed. " I see now," 
 he gasped. " That's quite a natural mistake. You've 
 heard that I took a girl away and you think it was 
 Peggy Miss Greye-Stratton." 
 
 [194]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " Mrs. Ling," corrected the inspector. " I don't 
 think I know." He menaced the other with his fore- 
 finger. " I'm not going to fence with you. Out with 
 it." 
 
 Jimmie frowned. " Don't take that tone with me," he 
 warned. " I'm about sick of being bullied. I tell you 
 for your own satisfaction that it was not that lady. It 
 was someone quite different, a friend of mine, who hap- 
 pened to be dining in the restaurant. I took her out 
 because I didn't want her to be there when the trouble 
 arose. Now take that or leave it. I don't care a 
 tinker's curse whether you believe it or not." His hand 
 sought the bell over his head. 
 
 " I should leave that bell alone," ordered Menzies 
 curtly. " It won't do to push me too far." Hallett 
 dropped his hand. "You can tell the lady's name, 
 of course, and bring her to prove it? " 
 
 " I have said so," said Jimmie coldly. 
 
 Something flashed for an instant in Menzies' hand. 
 *' Then you're a liar," he cried and his weight crushed 
 the other back on the bed. The detective's left hand 
 was not so badly injured as to be totally useless, and 
 Jimmie, taken by surprise and at a disadvantage, was 
 unable to put up any sort of a fight. In three minutes 
 his arms were round a bedpost and a pair of patent 
 self-adjusting handcuffs encircled his wrists. 
 
 It needed the physical tussle to make his equanimity 
 give way. He was angry very angry, and the crown- 
 
 [195]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 ing indignity of the handcuffs chafed his spirit even 
 more than his wrists. The detective calmly extinguished 
 a smouldering spark that threatened the bedclothes and 
 tossed Jimmie's cigarette away. He might have been a 
 block of wood for all the notice he took of his passion 
 and his protests. He resumed his seat and went on 
 quietly smoking his cigarette with an air of placid satis- 
 faction. 
 
 Jimmie realised quickly that his most barbed epi- 
 thets were passing over the detective's head. The first 
 spasm of wrath passed. He gulped something in his 
 throat. " If you haven't gone mad," he said, his voice 
 vibrating with the effort he made to control himself, 
 " perhaps you'll be gracious enough to explain." 
 
 " That's better much better," said Menzies encour- 
 agingly. " You'll soon be polite if you persevere." 
 
 " Well " Hallett choked again. "Tell me, what 
 are you arresting me for? " 
 
 " I'm not arresting you, sonnie. Oh, yes, I know. 
 I'm going to act in an even more flagrantly illegal 
 manner. I'll take the risk of being broke. You can't 
 tell me anything about that. You'll have plenty of 
 chance to appeal to your ambassador. Or if you like 
 you can bring me before a police court for assault." 
 
 He spoke with a certain bitterness that was not lost 
 upon his hearer. Weir Menzies had spent a lifetime in 
 the service of Scotland Yard and knew exactly what he 
 was risking. He was behaving, as he had said, with 
 
 [196]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 flagrant illegality that could scarcely be justified even 
 on the suspicions he harboured. He had faced Ling's 
 bullets more cheerfully than this, which, if anything 
 went wrong, would lead to inevitable dismissal from the 
 service. 
 
 Jimmie wriggled himself out of bed to a sitting posi- 
 tion. " This is a fool's game to play," he protested 
 more mildly. " What do you expect to gain by it, 
 anyway? " 
 
 " I don't mind telling you now you're more or less in 
 your senses. By the way, I apologise for calling you a 
 liar. It slipped out. But " he brought his clenched 
 fist heavily down on the bedclothes " I warned you 
 what would happen if you stood in my way. You 
 spoilt things last night I'll do you the credit to sup- 
 pose that it was without deliberation. Still you were 
 tacitly on your honour and it was treachery to me 
 when you did what you did." 
 
 Hallett flushed. " Easy, Mr. Menzies. You'd have 
 done the same in my place." 
 
 " I wouldn't," denied the other. " I've been fair to 
 you all through and you've done your best to thwart 
 every scheme of mine because " He checked him- 
 self suddenly as he saw the change on Jimmie's face. 
 " Then you insult my common sense now by telling me 
 that this girl was at the Petit Savoy that it was 
 someone else." 
 
 " You don't know all the circumstances," said Hallett.
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " No, but I'm going to. I formally ask your permis- 
 sion now to search your clothes. I warn you I intend 
 to do it whether you give me your permission or not." 
 
 Hallett hesitated for a moment. " Oh, very well, 
 then," he said at last " Go on." 
 
 1 1981
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 IT is easy to see a mistake after it has been made. 
 Jimmie recognised his with the first chill touch of the 
 handcuffs. He had merely dropped out of his clothes 
 the night before, not troubling to remove or inspect 
 anything. The least he should have done was to have 
 placed the address Peggy had given him in safety. 
 
 He raved helplessly. Weir Menzies sat on the end 
 of the bed and waited imperturbably. Jimmie did not 
 pick and choose his words. 
 
 " Bad language won't help," said Menzies, once again 
 the stern moralist. " Make up your mind quick ; I 
 can't wait here all day." 
 
 Hallett suppressed the vitriolic retort that rose to his 
 lips. He was in no position to justify violent language. 
 " Say, this is a joke, isn't it? " he asked. 
 
 " I don't joke," retorted the inspector grimly. 
 
 " Look here," said Jimmie with inspiration, " you 
 own that you're doing an illegal thing. Now I'll tell 
 you what I'll do. Unfasten these things and run away 
 for five minutes and when you come back you can 
 search all you want to. There'll be ten thousand dol- 
 lars in it for you too." Ten thousand dollars, he re- 
 flected, was a small price to pay for the preservation 
 of the secret he held. 
 
 Menzies' ruddy face had taken on a deeper tinge of 
 
 [199]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 crimson. " You're wanting to bribe me," he said 
 thickly. 
 
 " That's a nasty word," said Jimmie. " Illegal 
 searchings are not your duty and how can it be 
 bribery if all I ask you to do is to keep within the 
 limits of your right. Come. I'm a fairly rich man 
 and I'll make it fifteen thousand." 
 
 A brawny fist was shaken within an inch or two of his 
 eyes. Menzies had for the moment let himself go and 
 was shaken with anger. " You dirty reptile," he 
 blazed and then suddenly checked himself. " The C. 
 I. D. aren't grafters," he went on more mildly. " If 
 you'd been in London longer you'd have known that. It 
 isn't fair, Mr. Hallett " he shook his head reprov- 
 ingly " it isn't fair." 
 
 Jimmie observed him with some astonishment. He 
 did not know the scale of pay of English detectives, but 
 he imagined that fifteen thousand dollars would have 
 removed most scruples. " Don't get in a tear about it," 
 he said. " For a man who plays the game like this " 
 he glanced at the handcuffs " I don't see what you've 
 got to complain of if you get insulted. You're not a 
 police officer now, remember. You're a common or 
 garden burglar." 
 
 Menzies had resumed his placid equanimity. It was 
 difficult to reconcile the placidity with which he was 
 now enveloped to the resentment that had shaken him a 
 moment before. " I suppose I am," he remarked. 
 
 [200]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " That is if you won't give me the permission I asked 
 for a while ago." 
 
 " I'll see you burn first," retorted Jimmie. 
 
 " Then I must go on with it," said Menzies, and 
 quietly began to possess himself of the scattered articles 
 of attire that littered the floor. 
 
 He went through the pockets methodically, laying the 
 articles in an orderly heap on a chair one by one as 
 he examined them. Jimmie saw him pause over a scrap 
 of paper on which Peggy had scribbled her address. 
 " Does your friend the lady who isn't Mrs. Ling live 
 at Shadwell? " he asked. " That's a bit of a change 
 from Palace Avenue, isn't it? I'll use your telephone a 
 second, if you don't mind." 
 
 "Make yourself at home," said Hallett. "Don't 
 mind me." 
 
 The detective lifted the receiver. " Give me a line. 
 . . . City 400. ... Is that the Yard? ... I want 
 Royal or Congreve if they're there. Yes, Mr. Menzies 
 speaking. Hello, is that you, Congreve? . . . Oh, gone 
 out, is he? . . . Anything fresh, Royal? " 
 
 The man at the other end of the wire seemed to 
 Jimmie to be intolerably loquacious. A grin slowly 
 stole over Menzies' set features. " That's darned 
 funny," he commented at last. " So you've got it from 
 two ends. Curiously enough I've just run across the 
 same address here that's what I rang up about. I'm 
 in Mr. Hallett's rooms at the Palatial. He's very an- 
 
 [201]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 noyed with me, Royal. . . . Eh? . . . No, they'd 
 better not do anything unless they spot Ling. Keep 
 close observation on anyone in or out. You'd better 
 come on here." 
 
 He turned to Hallett and tapped the paper in his 
 hand. " If this is all you're upset about, Mr. Hallett, 
 you needn't blame yourself or me. This address has 
 cropped up at the Yard from two other sources. Some 
 of our men are breathing the salubrious air of Shadwell 
 at this minute. If I hadn't been in a hurry to see you 
 I'd have known it half an hour or more ago. Promise 
 me you'll sit quiet and wait without interference while 
 I finish off and I'll unhook you." 
 
 " I don't take back anything I've said," declared 
 Jimmie, " but I'll promise that. I'd like to admire your 
 methods in something more solid than pyjamas and 
 that's a fact. Do you mind if I order breakfast? " 
 
 Menzies smiled as he shook his head. You'll not 
 starve if you wait ten minutes till Royal comes. I'm not 
 going to take any chances of you sending a warning, 
 directly or indirectly. Not that it would do any good 
 if you managed to slip anything through. A mouse 
 couldn't get in or out of Levoine Street now." 
 
 It was a palpable hit. Hallett had hoped that the 
 entrance of a servant might give him an opportunity to 
 convey something to Peggy. His face fell as the other 
 exploded the plan. He stretched himself as Menzies 
 unlocked the handcuffs. 
 
 [202]
 
 " Yes, I guess I can hold out that long. I wish you'd 
 forget your profession sometimes, Menzies. I'd hate to 
 have to suspect a man of evil because he wants his 
 breakfast. Say, if it's not giving away secrets, how 
 did Scotland Yard get on to the address? " 
 
 Menzies postponed his rummaging for the moment. 
 " There's no secret about it," he said. " It was only a 
 question of how long a well-dressed girl, obviously of 
 the superior classes, could live in a slum without at- 
 tracting notice especially when she's being looked for 
 by the police. A report that she had been located by 
 our Shadwell people was received this morning. Then 
 again you remember that note she sent calling you 
 over to Brixton? " 
 
 " Well ! " said Jimmie. 
 
 " That was handed over to an expert for more de- 
 tailed examination than we were able to give it our- 
 selves. Royal hasn't told me anything but the result, 
 though I can guess how it was done. Very few inks 
 are chemically alike. The expert must have applied 
 tests which brought out the fact that certain words in 
 that note had been written in a different ink from the 
 others. You follow me? The inference would be irre- 
 sistible and a properly skilled photographer would be 
 able to bring out the underlying words. All automatic, 
 Mr. Hallett we were just bound to find her." 
 
 " I suppose you were," said Hallett, absently envelop- 
 ing himself in a big dressing-gown. 
 [203]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 The chief inspector picked the revolver from a heap 
 of belongings he had abstracted from the young man's 
 pockets and weighed it carelessly in his hand while he 
 scrutinised the young man from under his half-shut 
 eyelids. " I may have been doing you both an injus- 
 tice," he confessed. " I'll own I can't make out why she 
 wanted you at Shadwell and how it came about that the 
 note got altered by someone apparently without her 
 knowledge." 
 
 " Can't you," said Jimmie indifferently. He began 
 to appreciate the point which was being led up to. 
 
 " Now," went on Menzies mildly, " I know you've 
 jour own notions as to which side of the fence you'd 
 prefer to be, but it's certain you've got some inside 
 knowledge. You're wise enough to know what will most 
 likely be happening in a few hours. Why not give me 
 the right end of the thing? No one need ever know 
 it came from you and I'll do my best to keep things 
 pleasant. I only want to get at the truth. Nothing 
 can stop that. But you can make it come a bit quicker 
 if you like. Of course I don't believe she's the sort of 
 girl who'd be in it bad." 
 
 An involuntary laugh broke from Jimmie, though 
 he was feeling very far from merriment. " Trying a 
 new tack," he said. " Why, I thought you'd loaded the 
 lady up with all the crimes in the calendar. Still, I'm 
 glad to see some glimmerings of common sense and I'll 
 reward you. She's perfectly innocent of anything 
 [204]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 rather the other way about. Now if you go running 
 yourself into trouble don't say I didn't warn you. Be- 
 cause if you do involve her I'll get the biggest lawyer that 
 money can buy to raise particular hell for your benefit." 
 
 " Ah? " Menzies caught his breath. " So you fixed 
 the thing last night. She's told you the whole story 
 or you wouldn't be so cocksure. Do you know what the 
 penalty is for an accessory after the fact in a case of 
 murder? " 
 
 Watching acutely he caught the slightest change of 
 countenance in the young man. It was gone instantly. 
 " I've half a mind to take you in on that charge and 
 let you try that lawyer for yourself," he pursued. 
 
 " And make yourself the laughing-stock of the coun- 
 try," countered the other. " Why, you haven't a shred 
 of evidence that could justify it and you forget I'm an 
 American citizen. You wouldn't hear the eagle scream 
 nunno." 
 
 " You're quite sure about there being no evidence 
 quite sure ? " Jimmie felt an uneasy thrill run down his 
 spine. " I could justify your arrest a whole lot if I 
 wanted to. This, for example, would almost do by 
 itself." He held up the revolver. " You were carrying 
 an automatic yesterday. Now it's a revolver and a 
 revolver, moreover, with the initials J. E. G.-S. engraved 
 on it the revolver that used to belong to Mr. Greve- 
 Stratton." He swung it carelessly to and fro by the 
 muzzle. 
 
 [205]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Jimmie started. "You don't say?" he exclaimed. 
 " Why, I got it " He paused. 
 
 " You got it from Ling," filled in the detective. 
 " Quite so." He broke it apart and squinted through 
 it. " There's three chambers been recently fired." He 
 looked up enquiringly. " Go on." 
 
 There was just the right touch of expectation in his 
 voice and manner as though he took it for granted that 
 Hallett intended to continue his explanation. But 
 Jimmie had no intention of doing so. He had been sur- 
 prised into half an admission, but he was to be drawn 
 no further. It might be that nothing he could reveal 
 could affect the course of events, but having given his 
 word to Peggy he intended to remain silent. He was 
 scarcely prepared to admit even what the lawyers call 
 common ground. 
 
 " You're doing very well by yourself," he commented. 
 " You don't need my help." 
 
 There had been little serious intention behind Weir 
 Menzies' threat of arrest. On the face of things, as he 
 had explained, he could have justified the action. Nor 
 would he have hesitated had he believed that any real 
 good would come of it. He would have been as ruthless 
 of Jimmie Hallett's feelings as he was of his own ener- 
 gies if thereby he could have gained a step. Of course 
 Hallett's infatuation that was Menzies' private word 
 for it had been a stumbling-block and it would be still 
 advisable to look after him. But to put him under lock 
 
 [206]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 and key would be to seal his lips utterly Menzies had 
 judged his character aright in that and if treated in 
 another fashion he might yet be useful. Nevertheless, 
 the threat was a bludgeon to be used if necessary. 
 
 He put the revolver aside and went on with his in- 
 spection. He hesitated over the letters and then, with a 
 muttered apology, opened one. There were four all told 
 and he steadily ploughed through them. " Ling must 
 be very fond of you," he observed with heavy irony. 
 " Not only have you the pistol, but some of his personal 
 letters. Lord ! " he burst out, " what game were you 
 playing last night? I'd give a lot to know. You cer- 
 tainly have the knack of dropping into the thick of 
 things." 
 
 " Yes, there were some letters," agreed Jimmie coolly. 
 " I haven't had time to read them. Anything of im- 
 portance in them ? " 
 
 " There are no addresses," evaded Menzies, " and he 
 doesn't seem to have saved the envelopes, so we can't tell 
 where he received them." 
 
 A knock at the door heralded the appearance of 
 Royal, who nodded a genial good morning to Hallett and 
 then glided unobtrusively to a seat. Menzies twisted the 
 letters in his hand with an air of uncertainty. 
 
 " I've got two courses open to me," he explained to 
 Hallett. " One, as I said just now, to arrest you. The 
 other is to take your word that you won't attempt to 
 leave your rooms here nor to send any message to any- 
 
 [207]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 one until I see you again. In that case I should leave 
 Royal here with you." 
 
 " You've got an everlastingly cool nerve," observed 
 Jimmie. 
 
 " Hang it, man, what do you expect? " said the other 
 impatiently. " The alternative is more than ninety-nine 
 men out of a hundred would offer you." 
 
 Jimmie shrugged his shoulders resignedly. He saw 
 Menzies' difficulty saw also that the chief inspector was 
 determined at any cost to keep him out of the game. 
 Inwardly he writhed at his own impotence. If he could 
 only have got one word to Peggy Greye-Stratton. ... 
 
 Outwardly he was philosophic. " No cell for mine," 
 he said cheerfully. " You've got the drop on me and 
 I've got to do what you say. I will pass my word, 
 though I'd take it kindly if you'd send on what news 
 you can. . . . Do you play piquet, Mr. Royal? " 
 
 [ 208 ]
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 UNLESS circumstances dictated haste Weir Menzies was 
 never in a hurry. In essentials he was a business man. 
 He was always ready to seize a fleeting opportunity 
 but for choice he preferred method and exactitude rather 
 than gambling on luck. There was nothing he could do 
 at Shadwell for the time being that could not be done 
 equally well by the men already on duty there. 
 
 The tactics of the moment were quite clear in his 
 mind. Peggy Greye-Stratton, by herself, was of minor 
 importance compared with the possibility of laying 
 Gwennie Lyne and Ling by the heels. The direct route 
 to that objective seemed to lay through her. Moreover 
 though he would not admit it, even to himself he 
 felt a certain personal animosity. Both Ling and the 
 woman had contrived to humiliate him professionally. 
 He wanted to locate them and then . . . 
 
 He was perched on a high stool before his tall desk 
 in the chief inspector's room. The dossier of the case 
 lay in front of him reports, statements, photographs, 
 everything that had been gathered together by the elab- 
 orate machinery of the C. I. D. neatly typed and 
 carefully indexed. Also he had his own Greek notes and 
 several facts not yet incorporated in the dossier. 
 
 He rubbed his hand through his scanty hair and 
 chewed at the end of a quill pen. For five minutes he 
 
 [209]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 allowed his thoughts uninterrupted flow and then there 
 came to him Foyle, spruce and alert with twinkling blue 
 eyes. 
 
 " Quite a dust up last night, I hear," he observed. 
 
 " Some," agreed Menzies. He got down off his stool, 
 reached for a tobacco jar and filled his pipe. " I was 
 coming in to see you, sir. I'd like to arrange to have 
 fifty men on tap. It's likely I'll want 'em to-night." 
 
 Foyle polished his pince-nez. " As close up as that. 
 I heard that you'd got an address. But fifty men ! 
 That means a raid. You'll have the newspaper men 
 there." 
 
 The superintendent hated unnecessary limelight on 
 the operations of the C. I. D. and he was not blind to 
 the effects of human nature. Among fifty men, however 
 carefully picked, there was sure to be some who had been 
 carefully cultivated by journalists and he knew that a 
 friendly hint would be passed on to Fleet Street before 
 many hours were over. 
 
 " I only want them available," explained Menzies. " I 
 don't know that I'll use 'em. We may be able to do 
 things quietly, but if a house-to-house search is neces- 
 sary and there should be any more gun-play ' 
 
 " Right you are. I'll see they're at hand for a call. 
 Now about things in general? " 
 
 " I was just thinking it out," said Menzies. " I 
 can't just place things, though I've got more than 
 enough to act on." 
 
 [210]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 The other removed his glasses. " What you mean," 
 he smiled, " is that you don't want to commit yourself 
 to anything till you're sure." 
 
 " That's so," agreed Menzies. " You'll remember 
 when we went over Linstone Terrace Gardens we 
 couldn't find Greye-Stratton's pistol. I came across it 
 this morning. In fact I have it here." 
 
 " Hallett? " ejaculated Foyle with a lift of his eye- 
 brows. 
 
 " Hallett it is. I've just come from him. I did think 
 he was safe last night. He was out of my sight for less 
 than three minutes and I'm blest if he wasn't on the 
 warpath on his own again or rather with the girl. 
 She's got that young man absolutely dazzled. It seems 
 that they met Ling after he dodged me. Now where 
 she's concerned you couldn't make him talk, not if you 
 used a a "- he wrestled for an illustration " a can- 
 opener. And he now knows a deuce of a lot, too. If I 
 could draw it out of him I'd have the case pretty com- 
 plete or I'm a fool. Look here." He ran through the 
 papers on his desk and picked out two. " I picked 
 these papers off him just now." He read: 
 
 " * Dear Stewart I was right pleased to get 
 your letter and shall be glad when you come over 
 again. Teddy is just fine and says he would like 
 to see his dad again. It would be fine if only we 
 could settle down and you didn't have to be sent on 
 [211]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 those long business journeys any more. As I wrote 
 you last time, the show has gone bust and I am 
 resting. So if you can spare a little money I would 
 be glad of a little cheque, though I hate worrying 
 you, specially when you are so full of business. I 
 wish sometimes you had a regular berth here. Of 
 course, the money would not be so big, but it would 
 be certain and we could all be together. But I 
 won't worry you, old boy. Much love from Teddy 
 and from CHBIS.'" 
 
 " A woman," commented Foyle. " You'd better burn 
 up the wires, Menzies." 
 
 "That's seen to. This is the other letter: * The 
 bulls have tumbled to me. Have just dropped one in 
 the ceDar along with J. H. and am clearing in case his 
 pals turn up. Am coming straight you know where and 
 am sending this by messenger in case you are out. Come 
 along and see me.' 
 
 " There's no signature to that. It doesn't need one. 
 I'm wondering how Hallett got these things and the 
 pistol." 
 
 " And I'm wondering," said Foyle, " how you got 
 them from Hallett. Have you arrested him ? " 
 
 Menzies met his chief's gaze steadily. " No, sir," 
 he said. 
 
 A ready smile broke over Foyle's face. It was not 
 always advisable that he, as head of the department,
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 should know exactly the methods by which a result had 
 been obtained. Men with the experience and sagacity 
 of Weir Menzies could be trusted not to endanger the 
 reputation of the C. I. D. He ignored the chief in- 
 spector's lack of candour. 
 
 " Well, I suppose he'll keep. If the evidence doesn't 
 crop up elsewhere we'll have to see what can be squeezed 
 out of him in the witness box. Don't you wish this was 
 France, Menzies ? " 
 
 " I never held with French methods, sir. I call a 
 man down and take my chance sometimes, but the third 
 degree isn't what it's cracked up to be. I believe in 
 judicious firmness and mildness." 
 
 " I expect that's how you treated Hallett. Never 
 mind that, though. Ling wouldn't have parted with 
 those things willingly. Your young friend must have 
 been fairly successful in handling him. How do you 
 figure it all out generally? " 
 
 " Well," Menzies rubbed his chin meditatively. 
 " There's money somewhere, though that's to be ex- 
 pected. They're not folk who'd set out for a coup with- 
 out a stocking to draw on. They've been spending 
 money pretty freely for boltholes. There was Gwennie 
 Lyne's house at Brixton. Then there's this Blooms- 
 bury place into which Ling carried us last night. I've 
 just been reading the report of some enquiries Royal 
 made. Ling took the whole place furnished a month 
 
 [213]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 ago under the name of Ryder. He's never actually 
 stayed there." 
 
 He glanced under his heavy eyebrows at the superin- 
 tendent, who jingled some keys in his pocket, and re- 
 turned a look of interrogation. 
 
 " It's solid, unpretentious, and central," prompted 
 Menzies. 
 
 The superintendent gave his keys a final irritable 
 shake. " When it's a jar," he murmured. 
 
 *' Just the place for a newly married couple to settle 
 down till all the legal formalities in connection with 
 Greye-Stratton's property were settled,'* went on 
 Menzies. 
 
 "Oh! I thought it was a riddle. That's just like 
 Ling. He'd have things cut and dried. Well, why 
 didn't he or they ? " 
 
 " That's what I want to ask the lady. Hallett's got 
 a glimmering of the reason, too. Personally I can think 
 of a hundred answers to the question. The only thing 
 is to know which is right." 
 
 " Ling," observed the superintendent with apparent 
 irrelevance, " hasn't the record of a man who'll handle 
 tar without gloves. He's always up to now found his 
 tools to do the actual work. Gwennie Lyne's the same 
 breed. That leaves two people to pick from Errol 
 and Dago Sam. If it came to the choice I'd go nap 
 on Errol." 
 
 Menzies smiled sardonically. He had a great deal of 
 [214]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 admiration for and loyalty to his chief, but he was 
 human enough to be pleased when he could register a 
 score. 
 
 " Then you'd be wrong, sir," he said. 
 
 " You think that because Ling had Greye-Stratton's 
 pistol he " 
 
 " Not altogether. There's another little point, 
 though I only came across it yesterday. Did you no- 
 tice the fireguard in Greye-Stratton's place I mean in 
 the room where he was found dead ? " 
 
 " A heavy brass thing, wasn't it? " 
 
 " Yes. I was having another look over the place yes- 
 terday when I found a thread had been caught in one 
 of the sharp edges. I didn't speak about it because I 
 wasn't sure it had anything to do with the case. It so 
 happened that, in his hurry to get away last night, Ling 
 tore a bit of his coat. I took 'em both along to Fynne- 
 Racton to have a look at under the microscope. He 
 now says definitely that they're exactly similar." 
 
 " That's useful, laddie," observed the superintendent. 
 " A nice little bit of evidence to justify his arrest for 
 murder but you'll have to go further than that for 
 conviction. There's going to be a big fight when this 
 comes on for trial. The pistol doesn't count. You 
 haven't even got Hallett's word that it came from Ling 
 and if you had you can see the line of the defence. It's 
 word against word and you can see what counsel would 
 do with Hallett." He made a gesture as though ad- 
 [215]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 dressing an imaginary jury. " And this man, gentle- 
 men this American, Hallett. He has sworn that the 
 pistol produced was taken from the prisoner Ling. 
 Ling has denied on oath that he ever saw the weapon 
 before. You'll not need reminding, gentlemen, of the 
 peculiar and extraordinary circumstances under which 
 this man Hallett became associated with the case. He 
 is found in a locked room with the murdered man and 
 he tells a confiding police officer mark you I am not 
 saying a word against the police an honest enough 
 detective whose intelligence perhaps runs in narrow 
 channels ..." 
 
 Menzies eyed his chief ruefully. " Thank you, sir," 
 he said drily. 
 
 Foyle's eyes twinkled genially. " Well. You know 
 that's what they'll say. It's the obvious line of defence. 
 As for the cloth " he snapped his fingers " a com- 
 mon cloth sworn to by a dozen experts as being worn by 
 ninety-nine out of a hundred men. There's heaps of 
 evidence of motive and no doubt you'll be able to get it 
 in, but there's gaps in your other evidence, Menzies, 
 and don't you go forgetting it." 
 
 Menzies tapped his pipe on the heel of his boot and 
 grinned. Foyle was indulging in no mere captious criti- 
 cism. It was not unusual for the weak links in an im- 
 portant investigation to be thus examined when it was 
 on the point of closing up, for the C. I. D. likes to be 
 prepared. The work of the department does not finish 
 
 [216]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 with the catching of a criminal. Every shred of rele- 
 vant evidence has to be drawn up in lucid detail from 
 which the Treasury solicitors prepare a brief for 
 counsel. It does not do to take anything for granted. 
 Menzies could picture, too, the cross-examination of 
 an unwilling Jimmie and the conclusions that might be 
 drawn from it. 
 
 " There's the girl, of course," he muttered thought- 
 fully. " She'd be even better than Hallett in a way. 
 If we didn't have to put her in the dock she might be 
 persuaded to tell what she knows." 
 
 " Aren't you forgetting she's Mrs. Ling? " said 
 Foyle. " You can't compel a woman to give evidence 
 against her husband." 
 
 "Against her husband no," said Menzies. 
 
 [217]
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THERE was no outward evidence that Levoine Street 
 was under any extraordinary police surveillance. Now 
 and again a blue-coated constable picked his way at 
 the regulation two-and-a-half miles an hour down its 
 sordid length. In the taproom of a dingy public-house 
 a couple of shabby loafers were playing dominoes with 
 a not infrequent casual glance through the open door 
 into the rain-sodden road. There was no public-house 
 at the farther end of the street, but two waterside la- 
 bourers had secured a " kip " in one of the few lodging- 
 houses in the street and through the dirty windows their 
 gaze also commanded the street. 
 
 These were, so to speak, Menzies' advanced posts. 
 Not one of them had ever been stationed in that division 
 of the East End. A divisional detective, of necessity, 
 gets well known to the criminal fraternity of his neigh- 
 bourhood and as facial disguise is more common in novels 
 than in the ordinary routine of a detective's work, it 
 is easier and safer to employ strangers in a locality 
 where the presence of a local police officer might arouse 
 undesirable speculation or comment. 
 
 Not that the divisional detectives were idle. Half-a- 
 dozen or more were wandering with apparent aimless- 
 ness about the vicinity, though never by any chance' 
 showing in Levoine Street itself. Yet it was scarcely 
 [218]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 likely that anyone leaving that thoroughfare would 
 escape the notice of this outer fringe of watchers. That 
 was what they were there for. 
 
 Twice that day had Mrs. Buttle journeyed into the 
 main street once to the butcher's, once to a post-office. 
 And each time, curiously enough, one of the waterside" 
 labourers or one of the saloon loafers had lounged in- 
 differently in the same direction, dropping back after 
 three or four hundred yards, while the hard-bitten de- 
 tectives of the H division took up the unobtrusive escort. 
 It was monotonous work. All those taking part in it 
 knew that their vigil might go on for weeks, perhaps 
 for months, and then end without any result. 
 
 Meanwhile, Detective-Sergeant Congreve had routed 
 out a colleague in the division and was more actively 
 engaged. Together they walked along the Commercial 
 Road until they reached a corner shop. The lower half 
 of the big plate glass windows had been blackened and 
 staring white letters announced 
 
 DR. KARL STEINGURT. 
 
 Dispensary. Hours 8 till 10 A.M. 7 till 9 P.M. 
 
 The pair pushed their way into the room bare save 
 for a cupboard and table and a series of hard wooden 
 forms. Women crowded the latter, some with children, 
 some without, and a shrill clatter of tongues died away 
 for the instant as they took stock of the newcomers. 
 
 [219]
 
 An anaemic young man busy juggling with bottles and 
 pill boxes nodded abruptly to the vacant end of a bench. 
 
 " Y 3 want the doctor? Sit down there and take your 
 turn." He returned to his dispensing. " That'll be 
 thruppence, Mrs. Isaacs to be taken as before. Eh? 
 No, you know very well what the rules are. If you ain't 
 got the money you shouldn't have come. Now who's 
 next? Don't you hear the doctor calling? " 
 
 Indeed, a querulous guttural voice from the top of 
 the stairs which led out of the dispensary was shouting 
 fiercely and two or three women pushed forward. The 
 anaemic dispenser shrilly demanded quiet an order of 
 which not the slightest notice was taken. The argu- 
 ment as to precedence threatened to develop to physical 
 violence and Congreve's colleague stepped forward and 
 took hold on the dispenser's thin arm. 
 
 " That Dr. Steingurt upstairs? " he demanded. 
 
 "Why the blazes don't you go and sit down?" de- 
 manded the assistant, feebly wrathful. " He can't see 
 j* all at once, now can he? 'Ere, let go my arm." 
 
 " It's Mr. Hugh a rozzer," said someone, and the 
 tumult stilled. The assistant lost his air of authority 
 as a pricked toy balloon collapses. " Say, you can see 
 the boss is busy. Won't I do? What do you want? " 
 
 " You won't do, son," said Hugh. " We're going 
 right up to the doctor now and you'll have to get these 
 ladies to excuse him five minutes." 
 
 Congreve meanwhile had pushed himself to the stairs. 
 [220]
 
 Hugh followed. A dozen steps brought them to the 
 consulting-room and face to face with a swarthy little 
 man in a frock coat and dirty linen. Heavy circular 
 spectacles gave him the appearance of an owl. 
 
 "Doctor Steingurt? " asked Congreve. Hugh had 
 softly closed the door behind them. 
 
 The doctor glanced at them through his gold-rimmed 
 spectacles. " Vot's the matter with you, eh?" he de- 
 manded briskly. " Speak up, now. You see I haf a 
 lot of people waiting and as I only charge six- 
 pence " 
 
 Hugh muttered something below his breath. Con- 
 greve cut in. " We're not patients. You'll have to 
 give us a little of your attention without any fee this 
 time, doctor. We're police officers." 
 
 " Id is most ungonvenient that you come at this 
 time," protested Steingurt, " I told the goroner " he 
 waved flabby hands at them " that I should not gome 
 again. I was legal oh, I know the law. I am not a 
 jarity. The child would have died anyway and the man 
 which called me didn't haf my fee. Why should I gif 
 up a night's rest for nothing? Dere is the hospital for 
 paupers." He grew more excited. " I tell you I vill 
 not gome to that goroner's court any more. I will see 
 my solicitor. I will not gome." 
 
 Both detectives remembered the standing feud be- 
 tween the coroner of the district and Steingurt. 
 
 " It is most highly ingonvenient," he repeated, " to
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 come in my gonsultation hours and drag me down to 
 that nasty court youst to talk nonsense.'* 
 
 " Steady, doctor," remonstrated Congreve. " We've 
 nothing to do with that. You were called out last 
 night- or rather this morning. That's what we want 
 to talk about." 
 
 Steingurt blinked behind his spectacles. " I am al- 
 ways being galled out. I will look at my book if you 
 like. Dere iss nothing wrong? " 
 
 " We'll know that when you've told us," said Con- 
 greve sharply. " You went to Levoine Street. Who 
 did you see? Why were you called? " 
 
 "That's so," agreed Steingurt. "It was a little 
 girl a bad case of diphtheria." 
 
 " Really ! " The detective's voice was silky. " And 
 how much were you paid to keep your mouth shut? " 
 
 The doctor glared at him and suddenly advancing a 
 step shook a fist in his face. Congreve delicately ex- 
 tended the tips of his fingers and touching the other's 
 chest pushed him backwards. 
 
 " This is a gonspiracy to insult me," protested Stein- 
 gurt. " I don't believe you are police officers. You 
 had bedder go or I will have you thrown out." 
 
 " Was it ten pounds or twenty? " persisted Congreve 
 steadily. " It looks to me as if you knew there was 
 something fishy on or you wouldn't be so unwilling to 
 talk." 
 
 " I gannot talk about my patients. It is profes- 
 [222]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 sional eddiquet you know very well." Steingurt 
 seemed to have lost a little of his confidence. " You've 
 got no right to question me." 
 
 " Just you listen to me, doctor." Hugh, big, over- 
 bearing, threatening, pushed his way into the dialogue. 
 " We know all about professional etiquette, but we know 
 a lot more about crooks and those who get mixed up 
 with them. Savvy? We ain't here for lip-trap so don't 
 you try us too far. Suppose we take him along on 
 suspicion eh, Congreve? " 
 
 Hugh was admirably suited for his work in the East 
 End big, absolutely fearless, direct. He knew exactly 
 when to adopt the customs and language of his surround- 
 ings and his peremptory air had its effect. 
 
 Steingurt became civil. " If you will sit down, gen- 
 tlemen, I will tell my assistant we mustn't be disturbed." 
 
 " That's sensible," said Congreve. 
 
 The doctor gave his orders and returned thought- 
 fully. " You know this neighbourhood," he said. " I 
 am a busy man very busy. I gan't enquire into the 
 moral character of everybody who gomes for me, 
 can I? It's a big bractice, gentlemen one of the big- 
 gest in the world. And every night I get waked up. 
 Last night it was an old woman and she rings and 
 knocks. I was afraid she would have the place down. 
 I told her to go away. ' You're wanted,' she says. * I'll 
 keep on ringing till I bring you down. I want to talk 
 
 [223]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 to you. It will be worth your while.' So I went down 
 and opened the door on the chain. 
 
 " ' You must gome along with me at once,' she says. 
 ' Don't stand there gibbering like a monkey, but get 
 some clothes on and gome.' She pushed a folded bank- 
 note through the door and when I opened id, id was for 
 five pounds. * There's four more of those flimsies wait- 
 ing for you,' she says, ' if you hurry up and come and 
 keep your jaw shut.' * Where to?' I asked. 'Never 
 mind,' she says. ' Are you goming or must I get some- 
 one else ? ' 
 
 " So, of gorse, gentlemen, twenty-five pounds is 
 twenty-five pounds. So I went. The woman she said 
 nothing of where we were going, bud I knew the dis- 
 trict. She took me along to Levoine Street and let me 
 in to one of the houses with a latch key. ' There's a 
 man fell downstairs and hurt himself,' she says. ' I'm 
 afraid it's concussion.' I wondered what she knew of 
 concussion, but I says nothing and she dakes me up- 
 stairs. There was a man there. He'd hurt himself 
 pretty much, but it wasn't concussion, and when I'd 
 bandaged him up I told her he'd be all right if he was 
 allowed to lie still for an hour or two. She says sharply, 
 * Very well, then, that's all right,' and counts out the 
 other five-pound notes and gives them to me. ' You'll 
 forget you've been here ? ' she says and I told her I 
 would. ' Not that anyone's likely to ask,' she goes on. 
 
 " And then, when she was bringing me down, she says,
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 * While you're here there's someone else you might look 
 at,' and she knocked at a door and called out. A young 
 lady answered it a real young lady not a girl like 
 you mostly see around here. The old woman says some- 
 thing to her that I couldn't catch and I went in. There 
 was a young man lying on a pallet in a corner. * What's 
 the madder with him ? ' I asked. ' God fooling round 
 with a knife or something and hurt himself,' said the old 
 woman. The girl didn't say anything and I could un- 
 derstand I wasn't expected to ask questions. The man 
 was pretty done up with a knife wound and it looked 
 like touch and go with him. There was a fever on him. 
 So I did what I could for him and the old woman volun- 
 teered to come and fetch some medicine. There, now, 
 you've got the honest truth, gentlemen." 
 
 "Didn't it strike you," said Hugh slowly, "that 
 when you find a man with a knife thrust and another 
 with something like concussion both accidents that 
 you ought to have told the police? How do you know 
 one of 'em ain't died? " 
 
 " It was none of my business," protested Steingurt. 
 " I was paid as a medical attendant, nod as a detec- 
 tive." 
 
 " Are you likely to be going back there again ? " 
 asked Congreve. 
 
 Steingurt shook his head. " Not unless they send for 
 me." 
 
 " It was dark when you were called out. Do you 
 [225]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 think any of those people would recognise you again ? " 
 
 The doctor was doubtful. 
 
 " Would you recognise any of them? Give us a de- 
 scription." 
 
 Although the officers painstakingly took down the 
 descriptions it was plainly useless. The ordinary per- 
 son is always at a loss in attempting a portrait. 
 
 " Well, good-bye, doctor," said Congreve. " We may 
 call again later on." 
 
 Outside Congreve hustled his companion along the 
 wet pavement. " Come along," he said, " I want to 
 telephone to Mr. Menzies. I've got an idea." 
 
 [ 226 J
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ALTHOUGH his right arm hung limp and the set of his 
 well-cut morning coat was somewhat spoilt by the bulge 
 of the bandages on his shoulder Cincinnati Red looked 
 almost as spruce and debonair as ever. He listened with 
 immobile face to Menzies' expression of sympathy. 
 
 " I'm right sorry," the detective was saying. " It 
 was hard luck on you. You didn't guess he was wise 
 to the gag or it might have been different. I'd back 
 you against Ling every time." 
 
 A whimsical, humourous smile lighted Cincinnati's 
 features. " I get you," he drawled. " You're handing 
 out a soothing syrup dope. I'm on to those curves. 
 What you giving me? " 
 
 " Would you like to have another cut at Ling? " 
 
 The " con " man drew his shaggy brows together and 
 observed Menzies narrowly. " Will a duck swim? Wait 
 till my shoulder gets well. If you're driving at some 
 more stool-pigeon business I'm not hankering after it, 
 but I might be tempted if it sounded good." 
 
 " Well," Menzies crossed his knees and passed the 
 cigar box, " we've got Ling located to an extent. 
 You'll be pleased to learn that he found a rough house 
 after he gave us his little show. He got manhandled 
 at a place in Shadwell and they had to have a doctor." 
 
 Cincinnati rubbed his hands. " That's all to the
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 good, chief. Say, I'd like to buy the guy who did it 
 something." 
 
 " It was only a knockout," explained Menzies, " and 
 we unluckily did not get on to it till this morning. We 
 believe he got away in the night, but we're not dead 
 sure. Anyway he can't be far from the house we've 
 located and we know there are some other toughs in it. 
 Would you care to call on the house and see who's 
 there? There'll probably be someone who knows you 
 and you'll be all right." 
 
 " Yep," said the other crisply. " Likely thing. 
 What chance would I stand walking into a wasps' nest 
 like that? It's no bet. Call it off." 
 
 " Why I didn't think there was a yellow streak in 
 you, Cincinnati," said Menzies. " I wouldn't ask you 
 to do it if I thought there was any danger. There'll 
 be plenty of my people on hand, and you're not likely 
 to get into any trouble. Didn't I tell you that Ling had 
 slipped out. I'd go myself or get one of my chaps only 
 it would be better if it wasn't a stranger. I'm asking it 
 as a favour." 
 
 The " con " man stroked his moustache in irresolution. 
 He was really bitter about Ling and would cheerfully 
 have contributed any effort that would add to the dis- 
 comfort or peril of his erstwhile colleague so long as 
 he ran no avoidable hazard himself. He was under no 
 illusions in regard to Menzies' efforts to persuade him. 
 He knew that the chief inspector had little bias towards 
 
 [228]
 
 him that he regarded him merely as a crook a crook 
 who happened to be useful and who might be coaxed into 
 helping the law by fulfilling an instinct of revenge. Not 
 that he had any compunction as to paying off old scores 
 that way. It was just the question of risk. 
 
 " You'll let me have a gun, of course? " he asked. 
 
 Menzies shook his head. To use Cincinnati to achieve 
 a purpose was all very well. But a gun in the hands 
 of a revengeful man backed by the semi-authority of the 
 police was quite a different thing. 
 
 " There won't be any need for a gun," he said. 
 " We'll be at hand if there is any trouble but there 
 won't be any if you handle the job tactfully. Not that 
 I wouldn't let you have a gun if I had my own way, but 
 you know how I'm tied down. Well, shall we consider 
 it settled? I won't forget you acted like a white man, 
 laddie some other time." 
 
 After all, reflected Cincinnati, there was no reason 
 why he shouldn't chance it. It would put him right with 
 the police and very likely, as Menzies said, there would 
 be no fuss. Until his shoulder healed there would be 
 little card-playing at his flat and if he refused the 
 police would probably become unduly attentive to any 
 other enterprise in which he might embark. 
 
 " I'm with you," he said. 
 
 " Good for you, Cincinnati," exclaimed Menzies. " I 
 guessed you would. I have taken the liberty of having 
 some clothes got ready for you. You can't trail the 
 
 [229]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 East End in glad rags, you know. If they're not your 
 usual fit so much the better." 
 
 He glanced at his watch. It was half-past five. " I'll 
 have those things sent in to you," he went on. " I'll be 
 back in a minute." 
 
 He was whistling softly as he passed along the cor- 
 ridor. He paused to tap at Foyle's door and to poke his 
 head inside. " All fixed up, sir," he said. " I'm going 
 to rout out those men you promised me." 
 
 As he closed the door a man touched him on the 
 sleeve. He raised his eyebrows in question as he saw 
 a brown-faced, silk -hatted man of medium size in a much 
 worn frock coat. Then recognition came to him. 
 " Why, it's you, Congreve. They've done you well. 
 How's the likeness? " 
 
 " It's fair, sir," said Congreve complacently. " In a 
 bad light with anyone who doesn't know Steingurt well 
 I'm likely to pass. Of course, I'm a bigger man, and as 
 I hadn't a photograph I had to explain to Clarkson's 
 people what to do as they went along." 
 
 " Makes you feel like a detective hero in a novel, 
 doesn't it?" 
 
 " More like amateur theatricals," grinned the 
 other. " I feel like the late lamented Guy Fawkes, 
 and I'm in deadly fear lest my moustache should 
 fall off." 
 
 The chief inspector became business-like. " I don't 
 need to tell you, Congreve, that it isn't any private 
 
 [230]
 
 theatricals. Start the boys off for me, will you. Thejr 
 can report at Shadwell till they're wanted." 
 
 " Very good, sir," said Congreve. 
 
 Night had long fallen when Menzies and Cincinnati 
 Red emerged from the underground station at Shadwell 
 and, with coat collars well turned up, struck off briskly 
 through the driving rain in the direction of Levoine 
 Street, They spoke little. The chief inspector paused 
 at last and nodded towards a shambling figure that was 
 hurrying a dozen paces in front of them. 
 
 " Keep your eye on that chap," he said. " He'll give 
 you the office when you get to the house. Remember 
 not to make any trouble if you can help it. We just 
 want to know what's doing." 
 
 " I get you," muttered Cincinnati and found that 
 he was addressing nothingness. For a substantial 
 churchwarden Weir Menzies had an astonishing faculty 
 on occasions of obliterating himself. 
 
 Yet he was nevertheless keeping a keen vigil on the 
 " con " man. It was as well to be sure and Cincinnati's 
 heart might yet fail him. 
 
 He emerged into visibility again under the light of 
 the corner public-house in Levoine Street. The two 
 loafers were still at their everlasting game of dominoes 
 and one turned an incautious look upon him. Menzies 
 was fumbling with his shoelace. He saw the " con " 
 man's guide trip and lurch heavily opposite one of the 
 houses. A moment later Cincinnati was rapping at the 
 
 [231]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 door. It opened at last and he stood in colloquy with 
 someone unseen for a while. Then he stepped inside and 
 the door closed. 
 
 The chief inspector walked to the private bar and 
 ordered a Scotch and soda, which he drank slowly. Once 
 he looked at his watch and answered absently the bar- 
 man's comment on the weather. In Magersfontein Road, 
 Upper Tooting, the apathy of one of its prominent hor- 
 ticulturists to weather conditions might have been set 
 down as an affected eccentricity. Something worse 
 might have been thought of a churchwarden who, with 
 bowler hat tilted at the back of his head, stood sipping 
 whisky and soda at the bar of the low class East End 
 public-house. But Menzies had forgotten that he was 
 either a churchwarden or a gardener. 
 
 Twice more he looked at his watch and a slight frown 
 bit into his forehead. Never too ready to put implicit 
 confidence in a crook, he was wondering if Cincinnati had 
 put the double cross on him. 
 
 There was in point of fact no justification for these 
 doubts. Cincinnati Red was feeling too sore with Ling 
 to dream of playing false with the police. The door had 
 been opened to him by no other than Mrs. Buttle her- 
 self, who stood determinedly in the doorway and scru- 
 tinised him with a stare in which there was no recogni- 
 tion. 
 
 " Well? " she demanded with some asperity and an 
 unnecessary loudness. "What do you want? " 
 
 [232]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Cincinnati smiled pleasantly upon her and leaning 
 forward spoke in a low voice. " Is Mr. Ling in? No, 
 no " he raised a deprecating hand as he saw a denial 
 forming on her lips. " I'm a pal of his. You tell him 
 that Cincinnati Red is here and wants to pass him a 
 word. Say the little trouble last night was all a mis- 
 understanding and I've come to clear it up and put him. 
 wise to one or two things." 
 
 She appraised him grudgingly for a while. " I don't 
 know nothin' of any Ling," she grumbled loudly. " I'm 
 a honest, 'ard-workin' woman and I ain't no use for 
 blokes what comes talking riddles to me." 
 
 She made as if to close the door and for the fraction 
 of a second her face was under the full rays of the 
 street lamp. His foot strayed absently over the lintel. 
 It was part of his profession to be a shrewd judge of 
 faces and in that respect there were few men, even at 
 the Yard itself, who could have taught him anything. 
 
 " So it's you, Gwennie," he said quietly. " I might 
 have guessed it. You'd better let me come in." 
 
 She dropped her cockney accent instantly and a wry 
 smile showed on her face. " Yes, sonny, it's me," she 
 said. " How did you get on to it? " 
 
 " Your eyes," he said succinctly. " Can I come in 
 now?" 
 
 She laughed. " Say, don't you think you've got a 
 gall? Ling is gunning for you." 
 
 Cincinnati went a shade paler. The recollection of 
 [233]
 
 the detective cordon around the neighbourhood, how- 
 ever, gave him confidence. He returned her laugh. 
 " I'm not a piker, Gwennie. A little heart-to-heart talk 
 with Ling or you'll put that all right. I was run right 
 on to it, Gwennie. I couldn't help myself." 
 
 " Come right in," she said genially. 
 
 He followed her without hesitation and she took him 
 up the creaking stairs into a little unused room bare of 
 furniture. " How did you know where we were? " she 
 demanded. " Did Ling tell you ? " 
 
 " Sure ! " he agreed nonchalantly and instantly he 
 saw the trap into which he had fallen. It was wildly 
 improbable that in the circumstances of their last meet- 
 ing Ling would have told him anything of this retreat. 
 It was a mistake unpardonable in a man who made his 
 living by his wits, but to try to retrieve it would be even 
 worse. 
 
 " I'll go and tell Stewart you're here," she said 
 swiftly. " You won't mind waiting a minute." 
 
 He did mind. He minded very much. Gwennie Lyne 
 was altogether too complacent in accepting his visit. 
 He knew that she was certain that he was playing the 
 game of their antagonists and the thought of the police 
 cordon was not quite so comforting. He had learned 
 part of what he had set out to know. She was in the 
 house and the probability was that Ling was also. He 
 was unlikely to get any further chances of making sure 
 and he wished fervently that he could see an opportunity
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 of carrying his information back to Menzies. Did 
 Gwennie know or guess that the place was surrounded? 
 Did she think that this was merely a reconnoitring ex- 
 pedition or a reconnaissance in force? He had been a 
 fool, he reflected, to so weakly fall in with Weir Menzies' 
 suggestion. Of course, the police wouldn't care what 
 happened to him. They were using him as a cat's-paw 
 to test the hot chestnuts before drawing them out of the 
 fire. 
 
 He had calculated on the readiness of his wits to ex- 
 tricate himself from any dilemma in which he might find 
 himself placed and now his blunder had exposed him. 
 He could only wait on events. He assented quietly and 
 she left the room. 
 
 There ensued a nerve-racking period of waiting. His 
 ears were strained to catch the slightest sound and he 
 could hear movements below. In that room where he 
 could meet anyone who entered face to face he felt com- 
 paratively safe. But his imagination played tricks 
 when he contemplated the possibility of creeping down- 
 stairs and so into the open street. On the dark stair- 
 case or in the gloomy passage Ling might be waiting. 
 His nerve was going and he dared not risk it. The 
 window looked out, as far as he could see in the black- 
 ness, on a bleak prospect of tiny back yards, and after 
 a sombre inspection he decided that there was no escape 
 that way. 
 
 The house grew unnaturally quiet and his waning 
 [ 235 ]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 courage began to return to him. There was a possi- 
 bility, after all, that his former friends had been as 
 badly scared by his arrival as a spy as he was by the 
 knowledge that they had penetrated his purpose. Very 
 likely Gwennie Lyne had left him there while she and her 
 confederate quietly slipped away. If so, they must have 
 already fallen into the hands of the police, and Menzies 
 and his detectives would be in the house at any moment. 
 
 He picked a candle off the mantelpiece and opened 
 the door. At once he became aware of a determined and 
 incessant rapping below. Somewhere near him he heard 
 eomeone stir, and promptly blew out the light and waited 
 with the door an inch or two open. There was a swish 
 of skirts on the landing and he heard light footsteps 
 descend the creaky stairs. Apparently the front door 
 had been very securely fastened since he had arrived, 
 for he heard the withdrawing of many bolts and the 
 rattle of a chain. Then a soft, guttural voice. 
 
 " Goot evening, miss. I yoost thought I would come 
 along to see how my patient was brogressing." 
 
 [236]
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 IT was not exactly what Cincinnati Red had expected. 
 Nor did he anticipate the low, musical voice that an- 
 swered. He had assumed that Gwennie Lyne was the 
 only woman in the house and somewhat impatiently he 
 waited for developments. 
 
 " Oh, yes. I wasn't expecting you, doctor, but I am 
 glad you called," he heard someone saying. " Will you 
 come up? He is asleep." 
 
 He wedged himself against the crack of the door. 
 Who was asleep? Was it Ling? Why should he need 
 a doctor, anyway? 
 
 Apart from these problems he had a sense of relief. 
 Even if any designs were contemplated against him they 
 would scarcely be carried out with the doctor in the 
 house. What was to prevent him walking boldly out 
 behind the visitor when he went. He heard the woman 
 and the man pass by him on the landing. Then a splash 
 of light showed that they had entered the room op- 
 posite. 
 
 He crept gently out and stooped to the keyhole of 
 the room into which they had vanished. Within his line 
 of sight there came a vision of the back of a frock- 
 coated man stooping over someone laying beneath a 
 clutter of bedclothes in the corner. A girl was holding 
 a lamp to light the doctor's examination. Cincinnati 
 
 [237]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 caught his breath as he saw her features and he remem- 
 bered her as the girl Hallett had rushed from the Petit 
 Savoy the previous evening. 
 
 The doctor stood up. " I will not disturb him now," 
 he said. " He seems fairly comfortable. I will send 
 you some different medicine presently with directions. 
 Remember he is not to be moved on any aggount or I 
 will nod answer for his life. And now for my other 
 patient." 
 
 She put down the lamp. Cincinnati raised his head 
 and sniffed gently, suspiciously. " There is no other 
 patient, doctor," she said. " The gentleman you saw 
 last night is gone." 
 
 " Gone." The doctor's voice held unmistakable evi- 
 dence of disappointment. "He is gone? Where is he 
 gone ? " 
 
 She shook her head. " I don't know. I am only a 
 lodger here. Perhaps Mrs. Buttle the landlady 
 could tell you." 
 
 A vivid bolt of flame leapt with appalling suddenness 
 up the stairway, illumining the whole place in a blaze 
 of light, and a hoarse cry came from Cincinnati. He 
 pushed the door open and flung himself in on them. 
 
 " Petrol ! " he cried. " The murdering devils ! For 
 God's sake get out of this." 
 
 The girl shrank back before the pallet as though to 
 protect the man lying there. Her eyes were fixed in a 
 kind of fascinated terror on the " con " man's face. It 
 
 [238]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 was not the fire that terrified her so much as his appear- 
 ance there. When last they met he had been in associa- 
 tion with the police. 
 
 " Go away," she shrieked. " You shan't touch him." 
 
 " They have set the place ablaze," he repeated. " We 
 are trapped." 
 
 The doctor was the only one who seemed unmoved 
 either by the fire or by the " con " man's dramatic ap- 
 pearance. " Don't be a mad fool, Cincinnati," he said 
 quite quietly. " Here, stand aside and let's have a look." 
 
 He pushed Cincinnati away and glanced through the 
 open doorway. The smell of burning petrol was wafted 
 upwards and the first burst of flame had given way to 
 clouds of dense smoke through which he could dimly per- 
 ceive many coloured flames devouring the woodwork of 
 the stairs. The incendiaries had done their work well. 
 The whole bottom floor had been set alight as if by magic 
 and the dry, rotten flooring was blazing like tinder. 
 Although it had only been a matter of a few seconds 
 since Cincinnati Red had raised the first alarm it was 
 already plainly impossible to reach the street by the 
 stairs. 
 
 The doctor closed the door quickly and stepped back, 
 removing his spectacles as he did so. " The gov'ner will 
 be annoyed about this," he commented. " It's a good 
 move. They'll have a fine chance to get away in the 
 confusion." 
 
 The terror in Peggy Greye-Stratton's eyes deepened. 
 
 [239]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " You are not the doctor ! " she cried. " Are you 
 detectives ? " 
 
 " I am a police officer," admitted the frock-coated 
 man. " My name's Congreve. My friend here is not. 
 But don't you worry, miss. We're not going to hurt 
 you. Here, you, Cincinnati. Come along into the front 
 room. We'll have to get down through the window. 
 Someone in the street will surely have had the gumption 
 to get a ladder. Now don't you go getting frightened, 
 miss. We'll have you out of this in two shakes." 
 
 The " con " man and he passed into the front room. 
 Peggy sank into a chair and buried her face in her arms. 
 Realisation of the peril she was in from the fire was 
 sunk in the more insistent dread for her brother which 
 the unexpected advent of Cincinnati Red and the calm 
 confession of identity made by the disguised detective 
 had aroused. Their presence had only one meaning for 
 her. 
 
 The sick man raised himself on one elbow. " Peggy," 
 he whispered. " Peggy." His eyes were shining with 
 an unnatural light, but his voice was quite normal. 
 
 "Yes? "she said. 
 
 " It's all up, old girl ; I've been awake for the last 
 five minutes. That was a detective, wasn't it. And the 
 house is afire. Well, I'll take my medicine. I've been 
 a rotter and it's up to me now to do the first decent 
 thing by you I've ever done. You get along. I'll look 
 after myself." 
 
 [240]
 
 She laid a hand soothingly on his shoulder and held 
 herself under stern control. " You've been dreaming, 
 boy," she said with a smile. " Lay down. Every- 
 thing's all right." 
 
 He resisted the soft pressure and pointed to the 
 wreaths of smoke now curling lazily under the door. 
 " That isn't much of a dream, Peggy. Better go. I 
 know what I've got to do and you'll only be in the 
 way." 
 
 Congreve poked his head into the room. " Now 
 then, miss, here's a ladder. You first and then we'll see 
 to your brother." 
 
 She held back. " I'll not go," she declared. " I'll 
 not let you arrest him." 
 
 " We'll see about that after we've got you both out," 
 said Congreve gently. " Now come along like a good 
 lass and don't argue." 
 
 " No." 
 
 It was mere madness, but she was past logical reason- 
 ing. Even the genial Congreve almost lost his temper. 
 He started forward, but before he could reach her 
 Errol had risen from the bed. His face was grey and 
 drawn with pain, and those unnaturally bright eyes 
 shone fiercely out of their sunken pits. 
 
 " Do as the man tells you," he said, and added an 
 oath. Excitement seemed to have lent him strength. 
 With a quick movement he lifted her bodily and stag- 
 [241 ]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 gered with her towards Congreve. " Take her," he said 
 curtly. 
 
 In her brother's hands she had been almost passive 
 but as she passed to the detective she struggled like a 
 wild thing. It was all that he, who was a 
 man of no mean physical strength, could do to hold 
 her. He had to call Cincinnati Red to his aid before 
 he could get her across the outside room to the 
 window. 
 
 " Steady, miss," he said soothingly. " You don't 
 want to be burnt alive, do you? " 
 
 She paid no heed. All her efforts were concentrated 
 on the one purpose to free herself and stand between 
 her brother and the danger of arrest. She saw nothing 
 except that all she had done and suffered during the 
 last few days had been for nothing. 
 
 A low cry went up from the crowd that had already 
 assembled outside the burning house as they appeared 
 at the window. The fire engines were dashing up. The 
 two men placed her down for an instant and she made 
 one final effort to break away. 
 
 " Of all the silly women," muttered Cincinnati ir- 
 ritably. 
 
 The window was open and a head now appeared at 
 it. Peggy felt herself abruptly swung off her feet 
 again and almost before she was aware of it she was in 
 the street and half a dozen men were moving her swiftly 
 away. Cincinnati had followed her down the ladder
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 and he gave a great breath of relief as he found himself 
 once more in the open air. 
 
 Congreve had returned to the door of the inner room, 
 which had swung to. He tried to push it open with his 
 foot, but to his surprise it resisted the pressure. " Now 
 then, Errol," he shouted. " Come on. It's your turn. 
 Open the door. It's caught." 
 
 The voice that replied was muffled, but it had a note 
 of determination. " It's not caught. Look after your- 
 self, Mr. Policeman. I'm going to take my chance. 
 You don't lay your hooks on me." 
 
 The burly figure of Menzies squirmed its way through 
 the window and a. couple of helmeted firemen followed. 
 " Hullo, Congreve," he said casually. " Here's a fine 
 old mess. What's wrong? " 
 
 His subordinate jerked a thumb towards the door. 
 " Errol in there," he said shortly. " Door locked. He 
 won't come out." 
 
 The chief inspector raised his boot and smashed 
 with the heel against the panels. A mocking laugh 
 came from the interior. " Don't do that again," said 
 Errol. " I've an eight-shot automatic here. Don't 
 you run away with the delusion that you're going to 
 take me." 
 
 " The deuce you have, laddie," muttered Menzies. 
 " Here," he wheeled on one of the firemen, " lend me 
 your axe. Pass the word to your people to send up 
 a length of hose. Congreve, you get out of this." 
 
 [243]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 He struck with the axe at one of the panels, and as 
 the wood smashed and splintered the thudding report of 
 an automatic answered and an irregular hole showed a 
 few inches from where he had hit. He moved quickly 
 back out of the line of fire. 
 
 " He means business, sir," said Congreve, who, for 
 once, had disobeyed an order. " You'll never be able 
 to make a hole to turn the hose on him. We can't save 
 him if he won't be saved." 
 
 Menzies made a helpless gesture. " Hang it all, man, 
 we've got to get him. He's part of my evidence." He 
 turned to one of the firemen. " What are the chances 
 of getting the fire under? " 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders. " The chief might 
 be able to tell you. I don't reckon we'll do much my- 
 self. There's gallons of petrol been used and you can't 
 put that out with water." 
 
 The brow of the chief inspector furrowed. On a 
 larger scale he was faced with a similar problem to that 
 which is dealt with almost every day by the huge police- 
 man with a small but obstreperous drunken prisoner. 
 The policeman gets the aid of other constables as large 
 as himself, not because he cannot manage by himself but 
 because he might harm the man in custody did he exert 
 his full strength. 
 
 Only by violence could Errol be saved, but the 
 probabilities were that in making the attempt several 
 other lives would be sacrificed. Menzies had no doubt
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 that any of his men would risk that eight-shot auto- 
 matic, if need be, purely as a matter of course. He, 
 himself, for that matter, was willing to take his 
 chance, but his sober common sense told him it wouldn't 
 do. 
 
 He climbed down into the street and engaged the 
 divisional officer of the fire-brigade a heavy- jawed 
 young man in sea boots, his face begrimed and blood- 
 shot. 
 
 " Suffering snakes ! " ejaculated that individual when 
 the position had been made clear to him. " I don't see 
 what we can do. If there's a madman with a shooter 
 locked in the first room it's for you police to deal with 
 him. Our job's putting out the fire and I don't see that 
 we can save the place anyway. All we can do is to 
 prevent it spreading. I've been in there " he nodded 
 towards the door out of which a thick volume of smoke 
 was emerging " and I tell you they haven't spared the 
 petrol. The house is doomed, Mr. Menzies, and if your 
 pal is going to shoot anybody who tries to get at him 
 he can roast for me." 
 
 The detective concealed his annoyance. In the fire- 
 man's place he would have felt the same. He would 
 have to count Errol out of the game. He dismissed 
 him from his mind for a moment and put another en- 
 quiry. The divisional officer nodded his head ener- 
 getically. 
 
 " That's so. That's so. Who ever set it alight knew 
 [245]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 what they were doing. It could have all been done in 
 three minutes or less. As far as I could see this is what 
 happened. It's partly a guess, mind. Some old clothes 
 were soaked with petrol and thrown or placed on the 
 stairs and at the bottom. A washbowl full of petrol 
 was placed at the bottom and others with petrol in some 
 of the rooms. Some tape was soaked in paraffine and 
 laid from one to the other. A length carried to one of 
 the windows and a match applied to it from outside 
 would have set the whole place ablaze in ten seconds." 
 He broke off to shout a curt order and Menzies, with 
 a word of thanks, moved away. 
 
 The fire had interfered with some of his arrangements 
 but he had by no means given up hope of laying his 
 hands on Gwennie Lyne and Ling and their confederates 
 that night. He was playing against astute antagonists 
 who were bound by no rules and who had the advantage 
 of working on the defensive. He appreciated the sig- 
 nificance of their move and lost not a moment in attempt- 
 ing to counter it. 
 
 Orders were given that no man was to approach the 
 fire and, getting on to the telephone, he sent a hurried 
 explanation of the new development to the headquarters 
 station of the division. To the subdivisional inspector 
 of the uniformed branch who had been lurking quietly 
 in the vicinity and now came at a run with his whistle 
 between his teeth, he had outlined certain ideas, and at 
 each end of Levoine Street detachments of constables had
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 sprung up as if by magic and were lined across the 
 street. 
 
 All thoroughfares that entered Levoine Street were 
 similarly guarded and no one except police officials and 
 firemen were to be allowed to approach nearer than sev- 
 eral hundred yards. Above all, no one was to leave the 
 street. Menzies had determined that he would not allow 
 his purpose to be rendered impossible by the collection 
 of a big crowd. It was inevitable that there should be 
 some sort of gathering, for within the cleared area there 
 were two hundred or more houses, nearly all of which 
 were human ant-heaps. But that could not be helped. 
 In any case he had determined to sift the collection 
 individual by individual if necessary. 
 
 Within half an hour he had been promised reinforce- 
 ments of two hundred constables more than sufficient 
 to maintain clear the area in which search was to take 
 place. More than that, every detective in London who 
 could be spared at short notice was hurrying to the 
 spot. 
 
 He told himself that all that was possible had been 
 done, yet he could not disguise from himself that in 
 spite of all the resources of intricate organisation the 
 odds were against him. 
 
 The double row of police at the end of the street 
 opened and a motor-car pushed through and ran silently 
 to a standstill. He recognised Helden Foyle and one 
 or two of the high administrative officials at Scotland
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Yard. To them he briefly outlined what had occurred. 
 
 " There were plenty of men who'd have volunteered 
 to fetch Errol out," he added, " but I didn't feel justi- 
 fied in letting 'em take the risk." 
 
 " You were right, Menzies," agreed the superin- 
 tendent. " There'd have been the deuce of a howl if 
 any lives had been thrown away like that. Nothing 
 can be done but let the fire burn out. You've lost Errol, 
 anyway. I guess you did right in having the streets 
 blocked." 
 
 " No need for secrecy now so far as Ling is con- 
 cerned," commented Menzies. " Instead of making a 
 quiet house-to-house search it will have to be done pretty 
 publicly. That's why I wanted more men. As soon 
 as the fire's over and the excitement died down a bit I*m 
 going through this district with a fine-tooth comb." 
 
 " Miss Greye-Stratton ? " said Foyle interrogatively. 
 
 "Yes, I've thought of her. She's in the 'Three 
 Kings ' at the corner there " he indicated the public- 
 house " for the time being. Half off her head. We 
 may surprise something out of her presently or she may 
 talk of her own accord. Errol being out of it may 
 make a difference, but I've sent to Royal to bring up 
 Jimmie Hallett." 
 
 Foyle blinked. " Can't seem to keep him out of it," 
 he laughed. He dug one forefinger into the chief in- 
 spector's rotund waist. " You infernal old match- 
 maker," he said. 
 
 [248]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 A sharp cry and a confusion of orders came from 
 the firemen. Brass helmets clanked and dodged ludi- 
 crously away from the burning house. The roof col- 
 lapsed like cardboard and a shower of sparks flew 
 upwards. 
 
 " Exit Errol," said Helden Foyle calmly. 
 
 [240]
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 LIKE most detectives of experience Weir Menzies had a 
 certain cynical outlook on life. Yet at heart he had 
 most of the domestic virtues. Still it was part of his 
 professional code to use every possible means which 
 included every possible person to achieve his ends. 
 
 He slipped his arm in friendly fashion through that 
 of Jimmie Hallett, when that young man turned up in 
 a taxi-cab, accompanied by the watchful Royal. 
 
 " We're on the same side of the game at last, my 
 boy," he said genially. " I knew you'd hate to be out 
 of this show and so I sent for you. Errol's done for." 
 
 " So Royal told me," said Jimmie coldly. " You've 
 got a knack of mucking things up, Menzies." 
 
 The chief inspector accepted the gibe. " I'm not one 
 of those omniscient amateur detectives," he said placidly. 
 " Don't bear malice, Hallett. You'll own you played 
 me up a bit before I started to get my own back. But 
 that isn't what I wanted to talk about. Tell me now, 
 Errol was in this bad somewhere. Was it only to pro- 
 tect him that Miss Greye-Stratton was keeping her 
 mouth and yours shut? " 
 
 Jimmie lifted his shoulders. " You remind me of a 
 newspaper man I used to know. He once went to inter- 
 view a jeweller who, after heavily insuring his stock, was 
 found bound and gagged beside an empty safe. The 
 [250]
 
 newspaper man being a tactful person anxious for a 
 story, opened his interview with ' tell me now, mister 
 did it really 'appen ? ' " 
 
 Menzies laughed in delighted appreciation. " I've no 
 tact," he said. " I'll own it freely. Honestly though 
 now, aren't I right? " 
 
 Jimmie frowned thoughtfully and withdrew his arm. 
 " Yes," he said in a burst of confidence. " I don't see 
 any harm in saying that's how I figure it." 
 
 " She doesn't much care what happens to Ling? " 
 
 A flush mounted to Jimmie's temples, but the dark- 
 ness of the night hid it from the detective. " I won't 
 say that. I don't know. I've no right to speak for 
 her." 
 
 They were opposite the " Three Kings." Menzies 
 dropped a hand on his companion's shoulder and gently 
 piloted him to a private door. " We'll get in and see 
 the poor girl," he said. " Should I be wrong in thinking; 
 that it was Ling who brought Errol into this affair? If 
 that is so she won't have much love for him eh? " 
 
 The young man came to an abrupt halt. " See here, 
 Menzies. How much do you know or rather how much 
 don't you know? If, as you say, we're both on the 
 same side of the game now, you've got to cough up." 
 
 " I'll trust you," said Menzies with lowered voice 
 and a confidential air. " Gwennie Lyne and Ling, with 
 some of their confederates, are, I believe, within half 
 a mile of where we stand. The round-up will begin
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 presently and we'll probably get them. I don't want 
 I'll admit it to have to rope this girl in as well, be- 
 cause I believe if she's done anything to bring her 
 within the law at all it was under a sort of compulsion. 
 If she still keeps silence she'll force my hand. I don't 
 only want to get Ling, I want more direct evidence 
 against him." 
 
 He had told Jimmie Hallett nothing that he did not 
 know, but he had adroitly side-tracked the demand for 
 information. They passed into the house. Peggy was 
 reclining in an armchair by the fire in a sort of shop- 
 parlour parted from the saloon bar by a glass partition 
 shrouded by lace curtains. The landlady of the public- 
 house was sitting with her. With a muttered excuse, 
 she rose and departed. 
 
 The girl was pale and an infinite weariness was in her 
 face. A flicker of interest was in her eyes as she nodded 
 to Jimmie. " You know? It was good of you to come." 
 
 Jimmie crossed over to her and took her hand. " You 
 are all right? " he asked anxiously. " Not hurt? " 
 
 " Only tired," she said. 
 
 " We have had a doctor," explained Menzies, who 
 had taken another armchair and was extending his feet 
 to the cheerful blaze. " She's perfectly normal, but 
 the shock has been rather trying. We shall soon have 
 you as bright as ever, Miss Greye-Stratton. There's 
 one or two things I'm going to tell you now that may 
 cheer you up." 
 
 [252]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " I thought you were going to round up Ling? " 
 interrupted Jimmie. 
 
 From the dissenting gesture which Weir Menzies 
 made one would have imagined that the capture of Ling 
 was a matter of trivial importance. His eyes twinkled. 
 " In a hurry to turn me out eh? There's plenty of 
 time for that. We don't want a big audience for that 
 sort of thing. We'll let the crowd get to bed. Now " 
 he became serious, and placing his elbows on his knees, 
 leaned forward towards the girl " I've talked to Mr. 
 Hallett here and I've come to a conclusion." 
 
 Jimmie again interrupted. " Hadn't you better 
 leave that," he said. 
 
 Menzies' ruddy face glowed benevolently. " Don't 
 you chip in for a moment, Mr. Hallett. I know ex- 
 actly how Miss Greye-Stratton feels. If you only 
 knew it I'm her fairy godfather. Now listen, I'm 
 going right through this case with you and will see 
 where we all stand. I'm going to show you my hand." 
 
 He paused for a moment, waiting as if for Hallett 
 to say something. Jimmie remained silent. He was half 
 suspicious of this new move, for he had learned that 
 Menzies' candour was usually in the nature of bait. 
 In that he was right. A detective has often to employ 
 the weapons of the confidence man. 
 
 " We'll begin at the beginning," said the chief in- 
 spector, laying the stubby forefinger of his right hand 
 into the palm of his left. " Let's make it supposition^ 
 
 [253]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 shall we? Suppose now, Miss Greye-Stratton, you were 
 to come into a big fortune on the death of your father. 
 There's the starting-point of the whole thing. Suppose 
 your brother to have fallen into the hands of a gang of 
 American crooks. Now I want to say nothing against 
 your brother, Miss Greye-Stratton whatever he was 
 he has paid the penalty, but he was a weak man. We 
 can agree on that. 
 
 " Very well. Still supposing, we will agree that he 
 bragged a bit about his rich relatives. It is the kind 
 of thing he would do. The whole story would have been 
 twisted out of him in five minutes. Then the thing be- 
 came absurdly simple. There was little risk about it. 
 All that had to be done was to seek you out, marry you 
 to one of the gang, and wait for nature to take its course 
 with the old gentleman." 
 
 Peggy, who had been listening apathetically, roused 
 herself to life. Her eyes were like stars. 
 
 " You, my girl " he spoke with a kind of paternal 
 patronage " can have little idea of the infinite pains 
 which really great criminals go to in organising their 
 projects how they plan point by point, slowly, care- 
 fully, sometimes for months. Their first business was to 
 get Errol irrevocably into their clutches. That was 
 easy enough. He is wanted by the American police for 
 uttering forged Treasury bonds " 
 
 " That is a lie," broke in the girl impulsively. " He 
 
 assured me " She cut off the sentence shortly. 
 
 [254]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " He assured you," finished the chief inspector pla- 
 cidly, " that he had not committed any crime before he 
 forged your father's name to the cheques which you 
 passed to Mr. Hallett in the fog." 
 
 Hallett jumped to his feet. Peggy's gaze had de- 
 serted Menzies and, reproachful and accusing, was fixed 
 on him. " You " she choked. 
 
 Menzies waited with the resigned air of a man who 
 has been interrupted in a story. He gave no sign that 
 he had deliberately seized the opportunity to surprise 
 one or both of them into an admission. 
 
 " I never told you," denied Jimmie vehemently. The 
 protestation was meant for the girl. " How did you 
 know?" 
 
 " It's of small importance," said Menzies. " You've 
 only confirmed that of which I am certain. I knew be- 
 cause it was an irresistible inference an inference you 
 couldn't get away from in a court of law. I'll come 
 to that in a minute. I knew about E-rrol in America 
 without any magic. I asked Pinkerton's to rake him up 
 for me, that's all. He had used another name but they 
 got on to one or two episodes. . . . He came to Eng- 
 land a year ago, near enough and curiously enough 
 Ling, Gwennie Lyne, and Dago Sam, and probably some 
 others, arrived about the same time by separate 
 boats." 
 
 " How do you know that? " asked Hallett. 
 
 " How do you get at ancient history?" retorted 
 
 [255]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Menzies scornfully. " By research. I didn't find Ling's 
 collar stud nor Gwennie Lyne's shoe buckle in a state- 
 room. They were over here and they had been in New 
 York. The Central Office in New York lost sight of 
 them at a certain date. I got from Miss Greye- 
 Stratton she will remember that I went into the matter 
 closely the approximate date of her brother's reap- 
 pearance in England, and then it was only a question of 
 patience." 
 
 He had abandoned the hypothetical method of stating 
 his case and went on like a patient school-teacher de- 
 monstrating a subject to a class of school children. 
 
 " Now at various times we picked up our facts and 
 corroborative details. Mainly they were the cheques 
 passed over to Mr. Hallett, the visit of Stewart Reader 
 Ling to Miss Greye-Stratton's flat and particularly the 
 one he paid the night the murder was committed. Ling 
 dropped a wedding ring, which was found by the lift 
 attendant. Miss Greye-Stratton followed him out hat- 
 less and in a hurry a few minutes later. 
 
 " Don't imagine that I jumped to an irrevocable con- 
 clusion then. I found it was merely a matter of hav- 
 ing marriage registers at Somerset House searched 
 that she had gone through a form of marriage with 
 Stewart Reader Ling. Then I had more than a sus- 
 picion of Errol. You were certainly uneasy when you 
 came to see me, Miss Greye-Stratton, though I'll do you 
 the justice to say you controlled your feelings well. 
 
 [256]
 
 But the biggest fool that ever stepped could see that 
 you were holding something back. 
 
 " I confronted the pair of you by as near surprise as 
 I could work it, but you did me down. But the main 
 thing began to stick out as plain as a pike-staff. Ling 
 an adventurer, Dago Sam whom I then only knew as 
 William Smith a tough from Toughville, Errol a was- 
 trel, and you an heiress. The combination worked 
 itself out. Why should you deny that you had passed 
 the cheques over ? Why should you have held back any- 
 thing when we had a chat ? You were either in the game 
 yourself or you were doing it for someone else. Clearly 
 you were afraid of Ling and you had quarrelled in the 
 flat. It was clear too that you were not in love with 
 him. Why had you married? There had been com- 
 pulsion of some kind and the cheques were concerned or 
 you wouldn't have been so eager to get them away. 
 They were proof of someone's guilt. I should say that 
 when we searched Greye-Stratton's house we did not 
 come across a single thing that had reference to even 
 the smallest banking transaction. Clearly all bank- 
 books, pocket-books, and so on had been taken away or 
 destroyed. 
 
 " I thought I saw the outlines of the scheme. Errol 
 had forged his father's name and that had been used as 
 a lever to induce you to consent to the marriage. The 
 part not according to the programme was that Ling 
 wanted you to live with him, either because he had fallen 
 
 [257]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 in love with you or because he thought that it would 
 be easier to lift the fortune if he was your acknowledged 
 husband." 
 
 "The murder?" she said eagerly. "You have not 
 spoken of that ? " 
 
 " Do you mind if I smoke? " he asked. " I can think 
 better with a pipe. Thank you. No, I haven't dealt 
 with the murder yet. I was just coming to that. 
 Here's a point I haven't spoken about. Perhaps you 
 can help me though I don't attach much importance 
 to it. A woman had visited him twice during the last 
 year. Was that you?" 
 
 " It was I," she admitted. 
 
 He remained silent. 
 
 *' I did not like asking him to see me," she went on. 
 " It wasn't pleasant. I asked him to do something for 
 my brother. It was after I had made my final appeal 
 to him that he promised to think over it. It was a 
 week or two before his death that he sent, under cover 
 to me, a packet addressed to my brother. It contained 
 the forged cheques and a curt note that that was all 
 he might ever expect." 
 
 " I thought so," said Menzies. " That explains how 
 Ling got those dead cheques. There was an abusive 
 letter written by Errol to your father of which we 
 found the charred remains in the grate. Whether 
 through that letter or some other letter or threats made 
 in person the old man went in fear of his life." 
 
 [258]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Peggy shivered. 
 
 " By all the laws of probability Errol was the mur- 
 derer. Even on the line of reasoning I have indicated 
 he was the most likely man. Mind you, even yet I am 
 not sure. The motive of the crime is clear enough and 
 any one of the gang may have tired of waiting. It is 
 possible and a likely thing considering the characters 
 of the persons concerned that his sense of grievance 
 was deliberately worked upon to fan into flame the 
 fierce hatred he nourished against his father. I'll own 
 I held that theory strongly for a while. Later I aban- 
 doned it. He may have been an accessory, he may even 
 have been in the house at the time that the murder took 
 place ; he certainly knew who was the murderer." 
 
 The tense look on Peggy's features was relaxed. She 
 drew a long breath of relief. 
 
 " That is my opinion," resumed the detective, " and 
 I'll tell you why. Mr. Hallett's call at Linstone Ter- 
 race Gardens could not have been foreseen. He was ad- 
 mitted and knocked out. Likely enough, if the man who 
 had hit him had had all his wits about him he would 
 have finished the job. Anyway, subsequent events 
 showed that the gang believed that he had caught a 
 glimpse of the murderer's features and that as an awk- 
 ward witness he must be intimidated or kept out of the 
 way. 
 
 " Remember that Errol was only a tool in this con- 
 spiracy a stool-pigeon. The rest of the gang would 
 
 [259]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 have been pleased to see him out of the way so long as 
 they were safe themselves. If I know anything of 
 Gwennie Lyne and Ling they would easily have ar- 
 ranged that if he had killed Greye-Stratton he should 
 have been the scapegoat." 
 
 " That is to say," put in Hallett, who had been listen- 
 ing with an eagerness no less intense than that of the 
 girl, " that if it had been Errol who opened the door to 
 me they would not have worried whether I should recog- 
 nise him again or not. They would have let him take 
 his own risk? " 
 
 " You get it," said Menzies. " One of the master 
 brains was concerned. It certainly wasn't Gwennie 
 Lyne the person you saw was a man. Of the known 
 folk mixed up in this business that leaves Ling and 
 Dago Sam. Sam we'll put aside for the moment. Who 
 was the person who was most concerned in the success- 
 ful carrying out of the original coup whose safety or 
 danger affected the pockets of the rest? " He half 
 closed his eyes as though he were weary of laying down 
 the course of the case and went on drowsily. " That 
 singles out the man who had married Miss Greye- 
 Stratton Stewart Reader Ling. If he was arrested 
 for the killing where do the rest of 'em stand?" He 
 answered his own question. " The show was busted." 
 
 " I'm not saying that Treasury counsel would follow 
 the line I'm laying down if we ever get Ling in the 
 dock. There's more than one thing that bears me out, 
 [260]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 however. A thread of cloth was found near the dead 
 man which corresponds to a suit that Ling was wearing 
 on at least one occasion. You, Mr. Hallett, took off 
 him one or two things of importance, among them Mr. 
 Greye-Stratton's missing pistol the pistol with which 
 probably the murder was committed." 
 
 He roused himself and tapped his pipe on the fender. 
 <c Now I promised you I'd lay down my hand a thing 
 I've not done to outsiders before a case was completed 
 for twenty years. I have done it because I believe it will 
 remove any scruples you may have in clearing up some 
 matters. Miss Greye-Stratton I may be wrong but I 
 don't think so has probably been actuated by an idea 
 that her brother had committed a big crime and a desire 
 to save him from the consequences." 
 
 She looked up gravely. " I thought,'* she murmured 
 in a low voice so low that she was scarcely audible 
 " that he might have shot my father in a fit of passion." 
 
 " I guessed there was something of that sort in your 
 mind." He sat suddenly upright and slapped his thigh. 
 " What a maundering old fool I am. Here I've been 
 talking my head off and I've clean forgot to say what I 
 really meant to. Do you know, Miss Greye-Stratton, 
 you're not married at all. Ling was married before he 
 met you." 
 
 Jimmie Hallett's face surged a vivid scarlet with emo- 
 tion and he felt his heart pumping like a steam piston. 
 He stole a look at the girl as she scrutinised the de- 
 
 [261]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 tective in wide-eyed amazement. Her eyes became de- 
 tached for a moment and met his. Then the flush of 
 colour into her cheeks rivalled his. 
 
 " Not married," she repeated. 
 
 " I told you I was your fairy godfather," chuckled 
 Menzies. 
 
 [ 262 ]
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 " THAT'S perfectly true," he said. " He was tied up 
 tight to an actress in New York five years since. I 
 gather the little woman doesn't quite know what sort of 
 a crook he is. There was a letter from her in your 
 pocket this morning, Mr. Hallett. I guess you either 
 hadn't the time or curiosity to read it. I sent a cable 
 to New York and the answer was brought out from the 
 Yard to me here. He's a married man, O. K., and if 
 we didn't have this other thing up against him we could 
 pull him for bigamy. The move smells of Gwennie 
 Lyne. She wasn't going to put her pal's hooks into the 
 money bags unless she'd got a collar and chain on him. 
 If the part of the bridegroom had been played by a 
 single man she might have had to whistle for her share 
 of the plunder. But a man who was already married 
 couldn't put the double cross on her." 
 
 Jimmie's spirits had unaccountably risen to the wild- 
 est exuberance. He clasped a hand down on Menzies' 
 shoulder with a force that caused the other to wince. 
 
 " You garrulous old sinner," he exclaimed. " I take 
 it all back. Consider yourself staked to the best dinner 
 that this little old village can produce the minute you 
 say you've got an evening." 
 
 " You take what back? " demanded Peggy, more for 
 the sake of covering a certain confusion than from any 
 
 [263]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 curiosity. Jimmie's face grew hot as he remembered the 
 handcuffs. 
 
 " There was a little academic discussion this morning 
 on a point of professional ethics," said Menzies. 
 
 " Hardly academic," laughed Jimmie. " I should call 
 it a practical demonstration." 
 
 " We differed, anyhow. But I'm being switched off 
 my line. I'm just making clear Miss Greye-Stratton 
 that you've got no family ties now to prevent you speak- 
 ing out. I want you to tell me everything you know. 
 Will you be as frank with me as I with you ? " 
 
 The brief wave of happiness that had come to her 
 with the knowledge that she was not tied to Ling was 
 followed by a return of depression. " I am willing 
 enough to tell you anything I can now," she said slowly. 
 " But won't it do when all this horrible business is over. 
 I am tired, so tired." 
 
 " Come, Menzies. You can see how it is. Another 
 day won't hurt. You don't think Miss Greye-Stratton'si 
 made of iron." 
 
 Menzies took out his watch. " If it hadn't been for 
 me young fellow, my lad," he said, " you'd still be play- 
 ing piquet with Royal at the hotel. In half an hour 
 I've got to be digging Mr. Ling out and I guess this 
 young lady can stand a quiet talk meanwhile. Now, 
 Miss Greye-Stratton, please. Tell me everything 
 your own way, and if any question occurs to me I'll 
 ask it."
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 His manner, suave though his voice was, admitted of 
 no further dispute. 
 
 " I'm unreasonable, Mr. Menzies," she said. " I can 
 see you're quite right." 
 
 " Go on," he said, and lit a fresh pipe. 
 
 He smoked quietly while she told him her story, occa- 
 sionally interjecting a question as some point became 
 obscure. An ejaculation of appreciation escaped him 
 as she told how she had refused to be a wife in anything 
 but name to Ling. 
 
 " Good for you, Miss Greye-Stratton." 
 
 Her vivid face ebbed and flowed with colour as she 
 went on. When she had concluded he scribbled a few 
 Greek notes on the back of an envelope. " That bears 
 out things as I placed them," he commented. " There's 
 a point that's puzzling me, however. Your brother had 
 a knife wound which he said was due to an accident. 
 Do you believe that? " 
 
 The peremptory question took her unawares as Men- 
 zies had meant it to. She reflected for a second before 
 replying. " No," she said slowly. " I do not." 
 
 " Did he say anything more no hint or explanation 
 of any kind? " 
 
 " He never said a word and I never questioned him. 
 He was never in a condition to be questioned." 
 
 The chief inspector gnawed absently at his mous- 
 tache. " I'll own it puzzles me a bit," he said. " If it 
 was Ling who did it, why didn't he make a clean job of 
 
 [265]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 it? Anyway, why should he get Errol up there and send 
 for Miss Greye-Stratton to nurse him? People don't do 
 things like that." 
 
 " Remorse," suggested Jimmie. 
 
 Menzies smiled. " Try again. You don't know 
 Ling." 
 
 " It's too far-fetched, I suppose," said Jimmie 
 thoughtfully, " to think that it was done with the idea 
 of bagging me. Besides, how should he judge that 
 Pe Miss Greye-Stratton would write to me? " 
 
 " Much too far-fetched," agreed the other man 
 drily. " But you've given me some sort of an idea. 
 You were not the only person they wanted out of the 
 way. If Miss Greye-Stratton took the bit between her 
 teeth they realised that she could make things pretty 
 hot for them. They would want to keep an eye on her. 
 I suppose you are sure " he addressed the girl 
 "that Errol really was wounded? It wasn't just a 
 frame-up? " 
 
 " I'll answer that he was a very sick man when I 
 saw him," said Jimmie. 
 
 " Yes. Of course. I forgot your little scrimmage. 
 Still, I think we've got a motive, and I'd sooner have 
 a motive to build an assumption on any day than a 
 heap of cigarette ash or scratches on a watch." 
 
 " I don't see that it matters," exclaimed Jimmie, 
 who secretly nursed a little contempt for what he con- 
 sidered the detective's over-subtlety. " Isn't it a by- 
 [266]
 
 point, however you look at it? You know that Ling 
 did the killing. You can get him for that. All you've 
 got to do is to catch him." 
 
 Menzies' smile broadened. " Now that is nice of 
 you," he said suavely. " There's only one little objec- 
 tion to it. I don't know that he's guilty. I don't be- 
 lieve that he is. There never has been a case except 
 when a murderer has been taken red-handed, of con- 
 clusive proof. It is only when you feel that a man is 
 guilty that the worst difficulties begin to crop up. A 
 detective has to examine every side-path. We'll take it 
 that so far as the wound is concerned it was no 
 frame-up. No sane person would believe that an injury 
 like that was an accident. Now if Errol had got it in 
 a row apart from this case he'd have no reason not to 
 tell his sister. If Ling had done it, or had it done pur- 
 posely, Errol probably would have been mad enough to 
 give the gang away." 
 
 " Unless he was scared," said Hallett. 
 
 " Precisely. Unless he was scared. But I don't 
 think he was scared. What I believe happened was that 
 someone got out of hand and tried to do Errol. Who 
 it was we'll very likely find out when we know who's 
 standing in with Ling. The gang probably had some- 
 thing else mapped out to keep Miss Greye-Stratton 
 under their wing, but they jumped to this racket." 
 He pointed his pipe towards her. " It meant that if 
 you had a sick brother you'd be as anxious to keep out 
 
 [267]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 of the way of the police as any other of them. Oh, 
 they're a wise mob. I'd bet any money if I was a 
 betting man that you never had any suspicion of Mrs. 
 Buttle being anything but what she was made up to 
 be?" 
 
 Peggy stared at him. 
 
 " She was Gwennie Lyne. There isn't an ounce of 
 the Cockney about her." 
 
 " I'd have sworn it was she when I came out last 
 night," said Jimmie. 
 
 " I wish to blazes you'd said so then," said Menzies. 
 He glanced at his watch again. " Well, if anything 
 more occurs to either of you people perhaps you'll let 
 me know. I've got to get to work again. I've sent 
 for a police matron and a nurse, Mr. Hallett, so per- 
 haps you'll stay with Miss Greye-Stratton till they 
 come. They'll be able to make arrangements." 
 
 Jimmie's eyebrows jumped up, but the girl was be- 
 fore him. " A police matron? " she repeated. 
 
 " I could understand a nurse," said Hallett. " But, 
 as Miss Greye-Stratton says, why a police matron? 
 You're not proposing to put her under under any re- 
 straint? " 
 
 A little flash of temper showed in the chief inspector's 
 face. It was gone instantly. He placed his hands on 
 the sides of his chair and heaved himself up ponder- 
 ously. " Not in the least," he said urbanely. " I'm only 
 remembering that a little while ago some people pre- 
 [268]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 ferred to try to burn her to death rather than run a 
 risk of her telling what she has told. I don't believe 
 she's in any danger now, but I should deserve to be 
 broke if I didn't see that she was protected. That's 
 why I sent for the matron, and what's more " he 
 thrust his hands into his trousers pockets and jingled 
 some coins " she won't be left alone night or day now 
 till this case is over." 
 
 Peggy's eyes met Hallett's and in their blue depths 
 there lurked an appeal. Torn as she had been by the 
 travail of the last few days she instinctively shrank 
 from contact with strangers. It was not that she did 
 not see and understand the reasonableness of Menzies' 
 proposition. It was just one of those psychological 
 phenomena of which there is no explanation. She had 
 a latent impression conjured up by the use of the word 
 police matron of a hard-featured, strident-voiced dis- 
 ciplinarian and she still retained enough of her old inde- 
 pendent spirit to resent even the suggestion that she 
 should be placed under any control. 
 
 Hallett answered the appeal. 
 
 " You're going a little beyond your rights, Menzies. 
 If Miss Greye-Stratton doesn't object I haven't an- 
 other word to say. But she's a free agent and you can't 
 force protection on her against her will. So far as that 
 goes I should consider it a privilege if she'd allow 
 me " 
 
 Her face gleamed with gratitude. " I could go back 
 [269]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 to my flat," she cried, " and I could get a friend to 
 come in to stay with me." 
 
 Their failure to see his point of view exasperated 
 Menzies, the more especially as he had been at some 
 trouble to send for a matron of his acquaintance, the 
 antithesis of Peggy's imaginings a little grey-eyed 
 person whose sympathetic tact and good-nature had 
 more than once tamed even the fiercest of suffragettes 
 who came under her influence. 
 
 " You're a pair of young fools," he said bluntly. 
 
 Jimmie bowed. 
 
 " You'd better get it out of your heads that I'm 
 going to stand for any of this nonsense," he went on. 
 " A fine thing to have you blundering round London 
 on your own if Ling or any of the others slipped us 
 now. I tell you, any danger you were in before 
 wouldn't be a circumstance to what it would be now. 
 We've stirred up this hornet's nest and they're ready 
 to sting. They won't stand on ceremony if they can 
 put anyone who can testify against them down and out, 
 believe me." 
 
 "That's a bluff," said Hallett coolly. "You're 
 trying to frighten Miss Greye-Stratton. I guess she'll 
 take the risk as I will." 
 
 " I guess she won't," said Menzies, a little flushed 
 about the temples. He was thoroughly honest in his 
 belief that she might find herself in peril if she were 
 allowed to go without surveillance at this stage. At the 
 
 [270]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 back of his mind, too, there lurked a suspicion that he 
 had perhaps exposed his hand too openly and until 
 matters had matured he didn't want to take any 
 chances. 
 
 " She's been shaken up a bit," he went on, " or she'd 
 see that it would be sheer stupidity to get out of touch 
 with us sheer fatuous stupidity." 
 
 "Well, what are you going to do about it?" de- 
 manded Jimmie. " She naturally prefers her own 
 friends, and I will say I agree with her. Going to 
 threaten to arrest her as you did me? " 
 
 The detective cocked a moody eye at him. " Some- 
 thing of the kind. Don't you forget I've got power to 
 detain a person on suspicion without making any actual 
 charge. What's to hinder me doing that to both of you 
 if you persist in this attitude? " 
 
 " Surely," persisted Jimmie, " considering what Miss 
 Greye-Stratton has passed through " 
 
 " That's just what I am considering. I hate to use 
 the appearance of force, but if you won't be reasonable 
 I've got to see that precautions are taken for her own 
 sake. Now wait a minute. Forget I'm a police officer 
 for a minute. Miss Greye-Stratton, I'm sure I'm speak- 
 ing for my wife when I ask you to be our guest for a 
 few days. We'll do our best to make you com- 
 fortable." 
 
 She almost laughed in her relief. " Thank you very 
 much," she said. " It's silly of me, I know, but I just 
 
 [271]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 hate the idea of a police matron. It would make me 
 feel as if I really were a criminal." 
 
 " That's all right, then," he said, and smiled across 
 at Hallett. "Any objections?" he asked. 
 
 " You're a sport sometimes," said the young man 
 and held out his hand. 
 
 [ 272 ]
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE minute search of the enclosed area on which Weir 
 Menzies had set his heart he knew to be no trifling busi- 
 ness. The crowds, both inside and outside, the still un- 
 broken cordons had thinned as the fire burnt out and no 
 promise of further spectacular action presented itself. 
 
 So far as was humanly possible the detectives and 
 uniformed police had seen that no authorised person 
 had entered or left the cordon. If Ling had ever been 
 inside they were confident he could not have broken out. 
 
 Menzies had a high respect for the brains and audac- 
 ity of both Gwennie Lyne and Ling and though he be- 
 lieved he had managed to isolate them, as it were, in an 
 island of some hundreds of houses, he was not altogether 
 confident of the result. 
 
 The whole district was a human rabbit-warren. 
 
 The sifting of the ruins was going to take time. En- 
 quiries which in a better class district might have re- 
 sulted in something tangible were not to be thought of. 
 The breed of liar who inhabited those slums would talk 
 oh, yes, he would talk. A flood of information or mis- 
 information would be let loose at a second's notice. 
 
 Moreover the difficulty of the search was going to be 
 increased by a number of people who had their own 
 reasons for avoiding association with the police. 
 
 Menzies bit his lip as Foyle, the collar of his water- 
 [273]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 proof well turned up to protect his face from the driv- 
 ing rain, approached. 
 
 " Nasty weather for a job like this," he commented. 
 "How did you get on? " He jerked his head towards 
 the public-house. 
 
 " Oh, her." Menzies shrugged his shoulders. " That 
 was as easy as pie. She coughed up everything. She's 
 a good girl and I've invited her to meet Mrs. Menzies." 
 
 The superintendent wiped the raindrops off his pince- 
 nez. " I sometimes think you're more human than you 
 give yourself out to be," he observed drily. " You've 
 been the dickens and all of a time in there. Have you 
 forgotten Ling? You've stopped this rats' hole. When 
 are you going to begin to dig him out? " 
 
 " Might as well begin, I suppose," agreed Menzies, a 
 little doubtfully. " We'll have the streets cleared abso- 
 lutely first, I think." 
 
 No one of the scores of detectives took any part in 
 this opening move. A dozen uniformed men began to 
 steadily sweep away the few remaining groups of spec- 
 tators. There was nothing unusual to be noticed about 
 this process except by those individuals who had no re- 
 treat within the surrounded area and so were driven by 
 ones and twos on to the detachments still lined across 
 the roadway. 
 
 They were dealt with with swift precision. There 
 were few questions and no argument at least upon the 
 side of the police. The senior officer at each barrier had 
 
 [274]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 a formula. " You will have to accompany a constable 
 to the station until you have given an account of your- 
 self and enquiries have been made." From that edict 
 there was no appeal. Menzies' net was a wide one and 
 he was willing to accept the risk of some estimable 
 citizen being caught in it and raising a storm about his 
 head. 
 
 Not that that was likely, for Heldon Foyle had vol- 
 unteered for the task of sifting those who were brought 
 into the police-station and he had an inimitable faculty 
 for smoothing the creases out of the most irate citizen's 
 temper. Menzies was left to conduct operations on the 
 spot. 
 
 It was an advantage that both Gwennie Lyne and 
 Ling were known crooks. Their photographs had been 
 circulated and among the assembled detectives were at 
 least a dozen who had been on occasion in personal con- 
 tact with one or the other. This simplified matters, en- 
 abling Menzies to split up four parties to start at dif- 
 ferent points. 
 
 None of them were novices at the game, and weapons, 
 official and unofficial, bulged in many pockets. They 
 had been warned there might be gun-play and though 
 in London a crook is allowed first shot that is no reason 
 for allowing him a second or a third. Nevertheless it 
 was nervy work. 
 
 The bulk of the army of detectives merely hung 
 about the street with their eyes open, in case they were 
 [275]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 wanted. Comparatively small parties entered the 
 houses to view the inmates, by now mostly asleep. Now 
 and again the light from a lantern or an electric torch 
 would rest longer than usual on the face of one of the 
 sleepers, or someone would pull back the blanket which 
 by accident or design had been shifted so as to conceal 
 features. 
 
 Those who were aroused for the most part took this 
 domiciliary visit with apathetic curiosity. Sometimes 
 a growling curse would be thrown at the officers, some- 
 times an attempt at rough chaff, which the detectives 
 answered in kind. Only when they were met with oppo- 
 sition did the stern purpose beneath their good humour 
 show itself. 
 
 A short, stocky Cockney Irishman, red-haired and 
 obstinate, barred the passage at one house. " An' it's 
 meself that wants to know what for ye are troublin* 
 dacent folk at this hour at all, at all," he demanded. 
 
 " That's all right, Mike," said the burly Hugh good- 
 humouredly. " We're police officers. We're just tak- 
 ing a look round. Look out of the way." 
 
 The Irishman's jaw jutted out and his face became 
 bellicose. " It's not me house that ye'll be turning up- 
 side down," he announced. " Ye've no right at all, at 
 all, an' by the Splindour of Hiven I'll paste the fir-r-st 
 blagguard o' ye that tries to come it." He shook a beefy 
 fist at them. " I'm a respectable man and I know the 
 law." 
 
 [276]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 One of the detectives brought up from the river police 
 peered forward. He was an Irishman himself. " That 
 you, Tim Donovan ? " he said. " Sure the last toime 
 we met you had a lot of ship junk that some omadhaun 
 had stuck in your cellar. An' you in the marine dealers' 
 trade, too. We've lost sight of ye since then. Do ye 
 want to meet that magistrate again or is your cellar 
 full now?" 
 
 The reminiscence an episode in which he had figured 
 as the receiver of stolen ships' stores appeared to in- 
 furiate him. " It's meself ye forsworn Judas," he 
 snarled, " an' if ye'll just kindly step up it's meself 
 that'll measure the length of me fut on your carcase. 
 Not a hair o' any of ye comes into my house." 
 
 " That's enough," commanded Hugh curtly. " Stand 
 aside if you don't want to be taken for obstructing the 
 police." 
 
 " Come and make me, ye big oaf," challenged the 
 little man, and swung a blow. Hugh, who held the 
 heavy-weight police championship, swayed his body and 
 the Irishman swung half round. Hugh's hand descended 
 on his collar and he was jerked forward into half a dozen 
 willing hands and held securely while a little rumble of 
 laughter went round. 
 
 The house, like most of the others, was packed with 
 humanity, and as the river man had suspected, a store 
 at the back full of rope and metal explained Tim's un- 
 willingness to allow unimpeded access to the premises. 
 
 [ 277 ]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 That, however, was a minor matter in the circumstances. 
 Of far more importance was the fact that among Tim's 
 coterie of lodgers was only one who had not been 
 awakened. He was sleeping in the remote corner of one 
 room with his face turned to the wall. 
 
 Congreve it was who walked over and casually lifted 
 the blanket. One glimpse he took and the next moment 
 he had his arms round the kicking, cursing occupant 
 and had lifted him bodily to his feet. An automatic 
 pistol dropped on the floor and a couple of men hurried 
 to Congreve's assistance. The struggle was brief. 
 
 They dragged their prisoner he was fully dressed 
 towards the door and two or three lights fell on a face 
 that was distorted with rage a sallow, thin face with 
 a hawk-like nose, and high cheek-bones surmounted by 
 a shock of thick, curly black hair. He wore a reddish 
 brown suit of American cut, the skirts of the coat sag- 
 ging low over his hips and the wide peg-top trousers 
 with a well-defined crease. Glaring from his necktie 
 was an enormous pearl pin too big to be genuine. 
 
 He ceased his struggles as soon as he realised their 
 futility, and stood scowling round on the police. " Tell 
 dem gazebos to take de spotlight off me," he complained. 
 " I ain't no stage prima-donna." 
 
 " Get him outside," ordered Congreve. " The guv- 
 nor'll want to see him. 5 * 
 
 He walked meekly out into the street with his escort 
 and Congreve sought out Menzies. " We've pulled one 
 [278]
 
 thug who looks a possible, sir," he reported. " Big 
 Rufe Isaacs shamming asleep in his clothes with a gun 
 by his side. I grabbed him quick and he didn't get a 
 chance to use it." 
 
 Menzies removed his pipe from his lips and a look of 
 interest came into his face. " Big Rufe, eh? Good 
 
 business. Has he got shiny elbows or do you think 
 
 This isn't the kind of place he'd hang out in while he's 
 got dough." 
 
 " That's what I thought when I spotted him. He's no 
 bum. Looks as if he could afford the Carlton if he 
 wanted it rather than Tim Donovan's doss-house." 
 
 " Fetch him along. No. Wait a bit. Ask the 
 ' Three Kings ' to let us have a room and cart him in 
 there. I'll come and talk to him." 
 
 Big Rufe, as the manner in which he had been taken 
 showed, was one of those crooks who are not averse from 
 running desperate chances and probably if Congreve 
 had not acted as quickly as he did murder would have 
 been set alight in Tim Donovan's boarding-house. Had 
 he had brains he would have been as formidable an in- 
 ternational criminal as Ling himself. But he had no 
 brains only an immeasurable audacity and a degree 
 of cunning that had carried him through until both New 
 York and London had got to know him. For him to 
 embark on an enterprise unaided was to court imme- 
 diate disaster, and after tripping several times he had 
 wit enough to recognise the fact and to attach himself 
 
 [ 279 ]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 when possible to the banner of some more masterful 
 crook who could plan as well as execute. He was an 
 admirable tool when working under directions and away 
 from liquor a skilled mechanician with a brute courage 
 that had, more than once, got him into trouble. Like 
 most crooks he was a free spender. 
 
 Menzies had a little doubt that one of the unknown 
 factors in Ling's gang had at last been run down. Big 
 Rufe, out of luck and without a penny in his pocket, 
 might have been found in an East End doss-house with- 
 out any deduction being necessarily drawn from it ; but 
 Big Rufe, flush and well dressed, in Levoine Street and 
 with a gun in his hand could have only one explana- 
 tion. 
 
 The man was palpably uneasy when Menzies walked 
 in upon him. The chief inspector greeted him affably. 
 " Bad job this of yours, sonny. You look to be in it 
 bad." 
 
 Rufe had all the philosophy of the captured crook. 
 He would cheerfully have shot Menzies or anyone else 
 if by doing so he could have secured a chance of escape. 
 But once taken he held no futile animosity. Violence, 
 either of speech or action, he knew would be merely 
 silly. His mouth glistened with gold filling as he smiled 
 cheerfully. 
 
 " Not," he ejaculated. " No pen for mine. If you'se 
 de wise guy you'd take these mittens off." He shook 
 his wrists, on which the thoughtful Congreve had taken 
 [280]
 
 the precaution to encircle handcuffs. " Say, this will 
 be funny stuff for the Sunday supplements wit' you 
 Scotland Yard bulls, I don't think ! What do you 
 reckon you're holdin' me for, huh? " 
 
 " Persecuting a poor down-trodden American citizen 
 again, Rufe, eh?" commented Menzies. "We can't 
 help it. It's the way we're built. Let us down light 
 with your journalistic pals." 
 
 " G'wan," commented Rufe shortly. " Cut it out." 
 He was grinning, but there was an uneasy look in his 
 eye. The usual gambit of the crook and it does not 
 matter what grade in the criminal hierarchy he adorns 
 is bluff when he is run to earth. It is an easy weapon 
 to handle and can do little harm if it fails. 
 
 " Just as you say," agreed Menzies amicably. " What 
 are you doing up in this quarter, Rufe? I thought 
 Piccadilly was more your mark." 
 
 The other was ready. " There's a kiddo, chief y' 
 know I wandered down to " 
 
 "What's her name?" 
 
 " Enid Samuels. She " 
 
 " Where does she live ? " 
 
 " Her boss, he's got a little cigar factory down Com- 
 mercial Road. She's a cigar-maker. Say, chief, you 
 ought to see her she's a peacherino " 
 
 "Aren't you wasting time?" said Menzies acidly. 
 " Look here, Rufe, you know you'll get a square deal 
 from me. You didn't come to meet your kiddo, your 
 
 [281]
 
 Enid, your jpeacherino, with a gun. You didn't expect 
 to find her in Tim Donovan's kip, did you? What kind 
 of suckers do you take us for to swallow that? You 
 know what we want. Where's Ling and the others lay- 
 ing up? " 
 
 Rufe blinked several times in succession. " Come 
 again," he murmured. " I don't get you." 
 
 The chief inspector crossed his knees and eyed the 
 prisoner placidly. From his breast pocket he took an 
 official blue-coloured document. " This is your dull 
 night, isn't it? " he asked. " You know all about Eng- 
 lish law, I reckon. I can't put you in the sweat-box. 
 A police officer mustn't ask incriminating questions of 
 a man he intends to arrest. I can't make you give your- 
 self away, Rufe, can I?" He shook a menacing fore- 
 finger. 
 
 The prisoner shuffled his feet uneasily and his inso- 
 lent eyes lost something of their boldness*. He was 
 shaken and he showed it. " There ain't nothing against 
 me, anyway," he agreed. 
 
 " No." There was an intonation of polite surprise 
 in Menzies' voice. " Nothing at all. Just a few little 
 things like arson and conspiracy to murder don't count 
 in this game. I reckon Gwennie has been playing you 
 for a Rube." 
 
 The beady black eyes caught fire. " I ain't no- 
 body's fool," he cried. " Gwennie can't put it over on 
 me." 
 
 [282]
 
 " I'm glad you feel like that, Rufe." From Menzies' 
 air he might have been chatting confidentially with an 
 intimate friend in whose troubles he took a sympathetic 
 interest. " Shows a trusting nature." Rufe glowered 
 at him suspiciously. " Funny, though, isn't it? Here's 
 the mob of you go out for a hatful and when you miss 
 your jump who gets left behind? Why, Dago Sam, 
 and Errol, and you. Gwennie isn't in the basket, I bet 
 you. No, nor Ling, either. That's what I mean when 
 I say they played you for a Rube." 
 
 Two deep vertical lines etched themselves in Rufe's 
 forehead and his lower jaw dangled. It was part of the 
 soundness of the detective's position that the other did 
 not know how much he knew. He had instilled into 
 Rufe a profound distrust of his confederates. The 
 crook was being deftly provided with a new point of 
 view calculated to stir the idea of reprisal in his mind. 
 His hands opened and clenched. 
 
 " If I thought that," he said, and suddenly paused 
 and raked the detective with his gaze. " How do I 
 know you ain't stringin' me? " he demanded. 
 
 Menzies flung his hand out in a listless gesture. " It 
 doesn't matter to me," he said. " I just hate to see folk 
 double crossed, though." He leaned forward. " D'ye 
 see, Rufe, you were due to get left anyhow. They were 
 using you to pull the chestnuts out of the fire, but 
 do you reckon you'd have been in at the share-out? 
 I don't." 
 
 [283]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " That's your word," persisted the other doubtingly. 
 "You want me to squeal on 'em. You're some sleut'. 
 Where do I come in if I put you wise? " 
 
 " I get 'em anyway," answered Menzies indifferently. 
 " You'd maybe save some time and trouble." He spread 
 his hands out wide. " You're no chicken, Rufe. You 
 know what you're in for. I can't help that, can I? I 
 guess you'll take whatever's coming to you like a white 
 man. But after the dirty way they've treated you you 
 ought to get a come-back on them. Hadn't you now ? " 
 
 In point of fact Menzies had no knowledge as to 
 whether Rufe was being treated fairly or not by his 
 confederates. He was working on the line of least re- 
 sistance. It is never at any time difficult to arouse in 
 the mind of a crook a surmise that he is being double- 
 crossed by his associates. Rufe had neither the skill 
 nor the wit to conceal in his features the fact that the 
 seed Menzies had sown had fallen on fertile ground. 
 
 " I guess dem gazebos ain't worrying about me 
 any," he admitted. " But they're in it as bad as 
 me, ain't they, chief? " He shot a cunning glance at 
 Menzies. 
 
 " Worse," agreed that individual. " Of course, 
 there's that little job of Errol's, but I know you, Rufe. 
 You wouldn't go for to do a thing like that without he 
 properly asked for it." 
 
 It was a long shot, but by no means a shot at random. 
 The very character of Big Rufe had been sufficient to 
 
 [284]
 
 convince Menzies that here he held the most likely 
 author of the knife thrust which had laid up Errol. He 
 spoke casually, as though the fact was what lawyers 
 call common ground, and he had his reward. 
 
 " You're on to it," said Rufe eagerly. " Dat guy 
 was too fresh. He took liberties, you understand, and 
 when he pulled a gun on me he got what was coming to 
 him." 
 
 The chief inspector's face was immobile. He gave 
 no sign of having scored another peg in his investiga- 
 tion. Leaning over against the door, Congreve, ap- 
 parently more interested in his finger nails than in the 
 conversation, jerked his head without looking up and 
 Menzies knew that he had heard and appreciated the 
 importance of the confession. 
 
 " You know what you're saying, Rufe ? " Menzies 
 warned. " Of course, it isn't news to me, but I'll have 
 to say you owned up. If you didn't mean it I'll forget 
 it. Not that it will make much odds." 
 
 " Sure I know," said Rufe with a definiteness that 
 showed he had made up his mind. " I ain't blind. You 
 guys have got it all fixed up for me an' I don't make 
 any trouble see." He squared his shoulders. " Why 
 should I be denying it ? If it's me for it you bet I want 
 Ling for company." 
 
 There was no need to correct the crook's impression 
 that his admission was a work of supererogation. It 
 made things promise to go easier. So long as Big Rufe 
 
 [285]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 believed that things were utterly hopeless for him so 
 long would he do his best to see that he wasn't lonely in 
 the dock. 
 
 " We'll pull him presently," said Menzies con- 
 fidentially. " If he's inside our lines he can't get 
 away." 
 
 The gold fillings in Rufe's mouth flashed again. He 
 was amused and made no attempt to conceal it. " You're 
 off your bearings there," he said. " You don't really 
 think you get Ling as easy as that, do you? He ain't 
 inside no cordons. No, sir." 
 
 For half a second Menzies wondered if he had under- 
 estimated Big Rufe. Was the man as simple as he 
 seemed or was he trying to deftly confuse the trail? 
 The reflection was swept away as swiftly as it had 
 arisen. Rufe was not the person to get such a notion 
 or to carry it out if he did. He would not so willingly 
 have committed himself to save his dearest friend. 
 
 " He had a private aeroplane waiting, I suppose ? " 
 he said with heavy irony. 
 
 Rufe's wide-mouthed grin extended still further. " En 
 she quay? " he said with deliberate mystery. 
 
 " En she quay ? " Menzies frowned. " Now what 
 the blazes do you mean by that? You aren't trying to 
 come the funny boy on me, are you, Rufe? " 
 
 " Huh." Rufe was plainly disgusted. " You're a 
 right smart Alick, ain't you, not to know what that 
 means ? " 
 
 [286]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " My education's been neglected. Tell me." 
 
 Rufe squinted cunningly sideways at his interlocutor. 
 " I'm telling you nothing see ? If any mutt says I 
 squealed, I didn't see? " 
 
 Menzies began to see daylight. " Of course, you 
 didn't, Rufe. You wouldn't do such a thing. I get 
 you." 
 
 " Why," went on Rufe reminiscently but with an air 
 of intense seriousness, " I got left for a sucker as you 
 said just now, chief. I been hanging round a joint back 
 o' this street with Ling lately. Wa could see Gwennie's 
 place from the back window. There's a room there she 
 didn't use and Ling framed it up wit' her only this 
 morning. And if she wanted us around she was to put 
 a handkerchief across one of the panes in daylight or 
 light up a candle after dark." 
 
 The chief inspector bit his lip. The possibility of 
 a system of signalling had been so obvious that he had 
 overlooked it. 
 
 " Well, when that tin horn Cincinnati came nosing 
 around Gwennie begins to smell something an' she tipped 
 us the office. You better bet we came round and Ling 
 and Gwennie fixed the show for fireworks. I didn't have 
 any hand in that. I swear I didn't." 
 
 " Get along," ordered Menzies sharply. " How'd 
 they get away ? " 
 
 " Gwennie took her chance and beat it out the back 
 in the yards before we put a light to the place. She's 
 
 [ 287 ]
 
 an active old lady for her age and she seems to have a 
 sort of ruspect for you, chief kind as if she knew you'd 
 block all bolt-holes from the front. She had a bit of an 
 argument with Ling about it. He holds that there'd 
 be time for a getaway from the front because we came 
 that way and calls her down for a mutt giving the game 
 away by climbing backyard walls. She wouldn't argue. 
 
 * If you've any sense, Stewart,' says she, ' you'll do 
 what I'm going to. The bulls'll be waitin' outside for 
 Cincinnati.' Dat woman's got some sense, chief; but 
 Ling, he didn't see it. And I didn't reckon there was 
 much to it till we got lit up. Ling, he stays behind. 
 
 * You go see if the old lady's got it straight,' he says. 
 
 * Day'se not looking for you anyway.' So I beat it and 
 sees the cops holding everybody up just as the fire- 
 engines come. I lights back, but I didn't get the chance 
 to get at Ling. But he must have tumbled to the racket 
 because the next I see of him he came out and walked 
 straight down the street and through your lines, boss, 
 and not one of your guys was wise to him. He's some 
 nervy is Ling." 
 
 " You mean that Ling walked right through our men 
 without being held up? " 
 
 " Sure. If I'd have thought of the gag I'd have done 
 it, too." His eyes twinkled. " Can you figure it out." 
 
 Menzies bit hard at a mouthful of moustache. Even 
 Congreve had lost all interest in his finger-nails. Sud- 
 denly the senior detective's face lightened. " Congreve," 
 
 [288]
 
 he said, " slip out and find what fire crews have gone 
 away. If the divisional fire superintendent is still there 
 ask him to have a roll-call taken." 
 
 " You'se got it, boss at last," said Big Rufe. 
 
 [ 289 ]
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THERE was wailing and gnashing of teeth among the 
 men of the C. I. D. as knowledge of Ling's escape spread. 
 Yet the simplicity and audacity with which it had been 
 carried out earned for it a chagrined admiration. Luck 
 had attended the crook better than he knew. The dis- 
 trict fire call had brought steamers from many stations 
 and some of the firemen were strangers to each other 
 a fact which had made the risk of detection infinitely 
 small. 
 
 Nevertheless, it must have needed an iron nerve to 
 have waited as Ling had done in a back room of the 
 blazing building till the moment was ripe for his expe- 
 dient. He had reckoned astutely enough that the fire- 
 men would have their hands full at the front of the 
 house at the commencement of operations and that at 
 the most only one or two would penetrate through by 
 the blazing staircase to the back to have a look at 
 things. On that hypothesis he had acted and the first 
 fireman to get through had never known what hit him 
 as Ling dropped a sandbag across the nape of his neck. 
 
 It had taken little enough time to change the man's 
 outer garments the brass helmet, the heavy jacket, the 
 trousers and big sea-boots but even so, he had to fight 
 his way, choking and gasping, through the smothering 
 mixture of flame and smoke to the open air. 
 
 [290]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 The uniformed police at the lower end of the street 
 remembered a fireman with grimed face and bloodshot 
 eyes one keen-eyed officer had even noticed what he 
 took to be a bandage under the helmet come towards 
 them at a lumbering trot. As Ling had calculated, 
 there had not been the shadow of suspicion in their 
 minds as breathlessly he had ordered them to make way, 
 muttering " We want to see if we can get at it from 
 the back." And so he had vanished, leaving one more 
 victim to be buried in the ruins of the burning house. 
 
 Mortifying as it was, no one could justly be blamed. 
 The uniformed police had acted hastily in cutting off 
 access to and from Levoine Street, though one end of 
 the street which backed on to it Paradise Street had 
 been included in the cordon, the other had been left 
 open. 
 
 The mistake had been an easy one to make. Levoine 
 Street itself ran straight as a pencil its entire length; 
 Paradise Street, on the other hand, ran parallel back 
 to back with Levoine Street for perhaps a quarter of 
 its length and then swerved widely away at an obtuse 
 angle which brought its bottom end out something more 
 than half a mile from Levoine Street. If Gwennie Lyne 
 had scaled the back walls safely she could have reached 
 the house in Paradise Street from the back and escaped 
 through the front without anyone being a whit the wiser. 
 Ling, too, would have made for Paradise Street if only 
 to effect a change back into normal clothing. 
 
 [291]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 All this had now become apparent to Weir Menzies 
 and blackened his brow and soured his temper as he 
 reflected how easily it might have been avoided. His 
 cordon of detectives had been wider and had included 
 Paradise Street until he had weakened it by calling in 
 some of the men. However, there was little to be gained 
 by repining. The back yards of the houses in Levoine 
 Street had already been scoured and now a second party 
 of searchers was at work among them, though hope of 
 picking up any trace of Gwennie was feeble. The only 
 chance was that if she tried to get away from Paradise 
 Street she might be brought up by one of the outlying 
 detective patrols. 
 
 Although the search of the cut off area seemed now a 
 waste of time, Menzies gave no instructions for it to 
 cease. There was alwaj's a possibility, however faint it 
 might be. His main hopes were centred on Big Rufe. 
 
 " What's the number of that shanty in Paradise 
 Street where you and Ling were hanging out? " he 
 asked. 
 
 Rufe gave it readily enough. " You don't reckon 
 they'll be waiting there for you, do you?" he asked. 
 " I guess you'll find the curb scorched, they got away 
 so fast." 
 
 The same idea was in Menzies' mind. He would 
 cheerfully have given odds of a million to one on it, but 
 nevertheless the place had to be gone through. He 
 drew his chair a little closer to the prisoner. 
 
 [292]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " What did you mean just now by ' en she quay ' ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Rufe shook his head doggedly. " No guy ain't goin* 
 to say I gave Ling away," he persisted. He was ap- 
 parently obsessed with something of that curious trick 
 of mind which will induce a dishonest witness with some 
 shreds of conscience to kiss a thumb instead of the 
 testament in court under the impression that perjury is 
 thereby avoided. 
 
 Menzies recognised the attitude. Rufe had had no 
 objections to betraying Ling, but he would not def- 
 initely give away his fresh hiding place. He wanted to 
 feel that he could deny having done so if occasion war- 
 ranted and he was giving a hint capable of only one 
 construction. A less self-controlled, less experienced 
 man than Menzies might have been exasperated. The 
 crook had been plain enough except on this one point. 
 To argument and expostulation alike he blandly shook 
 his head. 
 
 There was, it seemed to Menzies, a chance of it being 
 a piece of recondite American slang. If that was so 
 it was new to him. 
 
 He sent Rufe away to the police-station under escort 
 and strolled out himself to see how things were progress- 
 ing. It was getting on to one o'clock and the house-to- 
 house search was on the point of finishing. Congreve 
 loomed up through the drizzle. 
 
 " No go, sir," he reported. " House as bare as 
 
 [293]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Mother Hubbard's cupboard except for some tinned 
 stuff, some stale bread and half-a-dozen travelling 
 rugs. Front door and the yard door were both 
 open." 
 
 " I was afraid so," said Menzies. " We don't seem 
 to have any luck, do we? " 
 
 " I don't know." Congreve smiled behind his hand 
 at his chief's impatience. " If you don't mind my say- 
 ing so, sir, it seems to me we haven't much to grumble 
 about. A week ago we were right in the cart. Now we 
 do know the story and we know the murderer." 
 
 " Yep. And you've been long enough in the service, 
 Congreve, to know that troubles only begin when a 
 man is spotted. Tell me what * en she quay ' means 
 and you'll be talking sense." 
 
 " Give it up," said Congreve decisively. 
 
 " Well, I'm going to knock off now and go up and 
 see Mr. Foyle. We've about cleared up here. You 
 might ask some of the boys about that. Perhaps some 
 of 'em may know. Where's Royal? " 
 
 " Dry nursing Hallett in the * Three Kings '." 
 
 " On my soul I nearly forgot about him," declared 
 Menzies and hurried away. 
 
 He found Hallett and Royal, who appeared to have 
 become fairly intimate, swopping tall stories in the 
 public-house with Cincinnati Red as an interested on- 
 looker. Peggy Greye-Stratton had long ago been sent 
 away to Menzies' house. Royal stopped in the middle 
 [294]
 
 of a creditable imitation of the peculiarities of a certain 
 famous judge. The chief inspector stood regarding 
 them for a minute. " Well, boys," he said cheerfully, 
 " I suppose you know the show is over for to-night, 
 We've been diddled again." 
 
 " Some gink," murmured Hallett softly. 
 
 " You don't get my goat, my lad," smiled Menzies. 
 
 " Ling seemed to manage fairly well," smiled Jimmie. 
 " You're finding out you've got a man's size job, aren't 
 you ? All right " as Menzies moved threateningly 
 towards him " I take it all back. You're it. The real 
 Sherlock. You could eat a dozen Lings before break- 
 fast, just to get an appetite. Keep off. I apologise. 
 I beg pardon. I eat dirt. I " he gurgled. 
 
 " Seriously, though," said Menzies, " I'm shutting 
 up shop for to-night. It's after closing hours, but 
 we'll see if we can get one drink if we talk kindly to the 
 landlord all except Hallett." 
 
 " Me? " said Jimmie. " You think I'm drunk? " 
 
 " Well," Menzies drawled, " I've known men go up 
 in the air with less reason. Say, I'll let you have that 
 drink and own up you're sober if you'll answer one 
 question." 
 
 " Shoot," said Hallett. 
 
 " What does ' en she quay ' mean? " 
 
 Jimmie bent his brows in painful thought. At last 
 he shook his head. " That's one on me. I'll bite." He 
 waited expectant. 
 
 [295]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " It isn't a catch," explained Menzies. " I want to 
 know." 
 
 Cincinnati Red looked up. " I've got an idea what 
 you're driving at," he said. " I ought to have caught 
 on before, only I didn't think of it. I've heard that 
 Ling hits the pipe. I don't know for sure. He's never 
 let on." 
 
 " An opium smoker? " 
 
 " Sure. That's what ' en she quay ' means. They 
 say that he's been a dope fiend for years. That ex- 
 plains why he goes all to pieces sometimes. He can't 
 keep away from it for long." 
 
 There was dead silence for a moment. Both Menzies 
 and Hallett had forgotten their duel of badinage. The 
 chief inspector's face was very thoughtful. There 
 could be no over-estimating the value of the knowledge > 
 knowledge which was likely to shorten the pursuit by 
 no one knew how long. Like many important clues it 
 had come out, as it were, by accident an accident 
 nevertheless that would not have happened but for the 
 search of Levoine Street. 
 
 Instead of having to begin again the hunt for Ling 
 anywhere, everywhere there was a fixed point on which 
 to focus. Menzies knew something of the craving which 
 men will take terrible risks to satisfy. Even in flight 
 no man ridden by the habit would put himself out of 
 reach of the drug. Reasoning as he imagined Ling 1 
 would reason, it would be perfect policy to lay up in 
 
 [ 296 ]
 
 one of those illicit dens which in spite of police vigilance 
 exist near the docks of every great port. For his own 
 sake the versatile Chinese takes ample precautions 
 against a raid. In ordinary circumstances such a place 
 would be the last in which Ling would be looked for. 
 
 " That looks good to me," he said. " I don't think 
 I'll be able to stop for that drink, after all. You ever 
 smoked opium? " He addressed Cincinnati. 
 
 " I've tried the dope," admitted the " con " man. " I 
 keep off it now. Bad for the nerves." 
 
 " Then you're the man I want. You'll know the gags 
 and'll be able to prompt me. Come along.'* He seized 
 the other's coat-sleeve. Cincinatti sat tight, passively 
 resisting the pressure. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " he asked. 
 
 " Find if there's any opium joint round about here 
 and run through it with you." 
 
 Cincinnati did not seem to find the programme en- 
 ticing. He was too close to the bad quarter of an hour 
 spent recently on the same quest. " Nix," he said em- 
 phatically. " It's your business, Mr. Menzies, and 
 maybe you'd like to see it through. But it isn't mine 
 by a long chalk. I've had all the excitement I want to- 
 night and the quaint little yellow man won't be disturbed 
 by me." 
 
 "Afraid?" sneered Menzies. 
 
 " I am," admitted the " con " man bluntly. " I've 
 done all you asked me to, but I'm no sleuth and there 
 
 [297]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 won't be any pension for my widows and orphans if 
 somebody hands me one. Why don't you take one of 
 your staff? " 
 
 " Because they've mostly cleared away home and I 
 don't want to spend an hour or two hunting for the 
 right man. I want to get after Ling right now." 
 
 " Say," drawled Jimmie. " Aren't you getting on 
 too fast. You don't even know that Ling is in an opium 
 joint, and if you did you don't know where the joint is." 
 
 Menzies' brow corrugated. " I'll find it," he answered 
 grimly. " It isn't the finding of it that worries me." 
 
 " Then, Sherlock," said Jimmie, " since our friend 
 Whiff en has waived the honour why not let me be M. C. 
 I'll own that I didn't know, or have forgotten, the mean- 
 ing of ' en she quay,' but I'm no tenderfoot when it 
 comes to opium joints. I think I might bluff any China- 
 man you're likely to run across. I have had some ex- 
 perience in San Francisco." 
 
 " You think you can get us in if I find the j oint ? I 
 don't want any trouble so that he can slip out a back 
 way while we're arguing at the front. It's got to be 
 done quietly. Remember, he's killed one man in order 
 to get away to-night and he won't stand on ceremony 
 with us." 
 
 " I'll be discreet," promised Jimmie. " I shan't make 
 any trouble unless it comes. You bank on little 
 Willie." 
 
 Menzies gave a curt nod. " Very well. That's a 
 [298]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 bet. You wait here and I'll be back in an hour or less. 
 You needn't stop unless you want to, Cincinnati. I'll 
 not forget you did your best for us to-night." He 
 moved swiftly away. 
 
 " Queer chap, your chief," commented Jimmie to 
 Royal. " How can he expect to find the place in an 
 hour? If the police had any information about one I 
 suppose they'd have raided it long ago." 
 
 " If he says he'll locate one in an hour you bet he'll 
 do it," declared Royal. " He's that kind of man. 
 There's very few people who can walk over Weir 
 Menzies and get away with it, and Ling isn't one. The 
 guv'nor's always got something up his sleeve. Once he 
 gets his teeth into a case like this one you can break 
 his jaw but you won't make him let go." 
 
 " I owe him something," said Jimmie, " though I like 
 getting at that everlasting dignity of his. He doesn't 
 seem willing to admit that he can make a mistake. 
 Here's a bad blunder to-night, for the instance. Surely 
 on a job like this it would have been simpler to take 
 the house with a rush instead of messing around and 
 letting everybody of any importance slip through his 
 fingers." 
 
 " I wish I was an amateur detective," said Royal 
 solemnly. " It looks easy, don't it. Just chew on this, 
 though. All Mr. Menzies knew about that house was 
 that Ling had been there last night. That was no 
 proof that he was there to-night. If we'd raided that 
 
 [299]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 place and found neither Gwennie nor Ling there where 
 would we have been now? " 
 
 " Just where you are," argued Hallett doggedly. 
 " You haven't got 'em now, have you ? " 
 
 " Oh, deliver us," ejaculated Royal wearily. " Can't 
 you see that he had to make certain before running a 
 raid? The news would have been all over the shop in 
 two ticks and if our birds had been laying up elsewhere 
 they'd have flown and we wouldn't have stood the ghost 
 of a chance of catching up with 'em. Got that? Very 
 well. The guvnor arranges to see if they're at home 
 before jumping. If they hadn't been we'd have waited 
 for 'em to walk into the trap. You turn that endways 
 and upside down and inside out and see if there's any 
 flaw in it. As it is we've bagged one of the small fry 
 of the gang, filled up practically all our evidence and 
 got the tip where to look for Ling." 
 
 " Luck," persisted Jimmie. " I never said he had no 
 luck." 
 
 " It's the sort of luck that's got a way of following 
 Weir Menzies. Of course, he goes off the line some- 
 times, but he's only human. It's only in books that 
 detectives never go wrong. If Weir Menzies was that 
 sort of detective why, he wouldn't be in the C. I. D. ; 
 he'd have Rockefeller and Vanderbilt and Rothschild 
 in his vest pocket. The C. I. D.," he concluded gloom- 
 ily, "never gets justice done to 'em in print except 
 perhaps in ' Judicial Statistics '." 
 
 [300]
 
 Jimmie grinned at the heat of Menzies' defender. " I 
 never said he was a dub," he declared. 
 
 " You never said so. That's what you meant all the 
 same," replied Royal with warmth. " You've just seen 
 seme of the surface parts of his operations and you 
 don't know either the resources or the limitations of 
 the machine he is driving. No detective that was ever 
 built could stand for a day alone against organised 
 crime. You let a marked grasshopper down in a ten- 
 acre field and set somebody else the business of catching 
 him. That's about as easy as some of the jobs that 
 come our way. Luck ! Huh ! " 
 
 " You've convinced me," said Jimmie solemnly. 
 " You've got Vidocq, Sherlock Holmes, Dupin, Cleek, 
 Sexton Blake and all the rest of 'em beaten to a 
 frazzle." 
 
 "You ready?" said the voice of Menzies from the 
 doorway. 
 
 [301]
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 IT is no reflection upon the activity of the divisional 
 police that there should be an undiscovered opium joint 
 in Shadwell. There is all the difference in the world 
 between a deliberate search with a definite object and 
 a preventive vigilance much spread out. Menzies had 
 special reason to believe that an opium den existed 
 somewhere in the district and it became a question 
 merely of locating it. 
 
 That problem was not so formidable as it looked. It 
 all turned on a question of advertisement. 
 
 Even illicit trades must advertise. A gambling-house, 
 a whisky still or an opium joint do it in different ways 
 from the proprietors of a breakfast food, but in essence 
 it is the same. They must have their public a definite 
 circle of patrons to keep trade humming. Sooner or 
 later some hint inevitably reaches the ear of authority 
 and the cleverest keepers of such places time their flit- 
 tings accordingly. 
 
 Although Menzies did not analyse the mental process 
 that had made him so confidently assert that he would 
 find the opium den in an hour it is probable that he 
 relied on these facts rather than on any hope of melo- 
 dramatic deductions. It is a pity to spoil a popular 
 illusion, but it is true that the greatest detective sue- 
 [302]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 cesses in real life are achieved simply by asking ques- 
 tions in the right way of the right person. 
 
 His starting point was the landlord of " The Three 
 Kings " public-house. 
 
 That gentleman, an elderly, hatchet-faced individual 
 with a temper much soured by dyspepsia, was in his 
 shirt sleeves, leaning on the counter of the public bar. 
 Formally the place was closed in accordance with the 
 licensing regulations and he was simply waiting until it 
 pleased Menzies and his companions to turn out. Had 
 they been other than police officials they would have 
 been shunted into the cold street at the stroke of half- 
 past twelve. 
 
 " Hope we're not keeping you up, Mr. Pickens," said 
 Menzies pleasantly. " Been good of you to put up with 
 our crowd. Still, I suppose it's been good for trade. 
 Can't grumble, eh? " 
 
 He passed over his cigar-case. 
 
 The publican grunted, inspected the cigars with de- 
 liberation and finally selected one which met his ap- 
 proval. " Don't do the neighbourhood no good this 
 kind of thing," he growled as he clipped off the end. 
 He spoke as though the reputation of a high-class resi- 
 dential district had been ruined. 
 
 Menzies leaned an elbow on the bar and crossed his 
 legs. " A pity, a pity," he said indolently. " Still we 
 have to take it as it comes. Wonder what made those 
 rotters pitch on this street ? " he pursued speculatively. 
 
 [303]
 
 " Talking about queer characters, Mr. Pickens, do you 
 ever get any Chinese in here ? " 
 
 " Not one in a blue moon." 
 
 " I was wondering if this dope shop hit you hard? " 
 
 " Y' mean opium, don't you ? Naw, that don't touch 
 me!" 
 
 "None of your regulars hit the pipe, then? There 
 used to be a lot of it round here ten years ago." Pickens 
 had said that he had only had the house seven years. 
 Menzies could hazard the statement. 
 
 "That so? The only bloke I know that touches it 
 now is old.Chawley Bates. Comes 'ome this way early 
 of a mornin' sometimes, and regular swills cawfee. 
 Reckon it pulls him together." 
 
 Menzies sized up his man. He wished now he had 
 made a few enquiries about Pickens from the local men. 
 " The Three Kings " was known as a resort of persons 
 who had no great love for the police. Still, the keeper 
 of a pub may have the shadiest customers and yet be 
 an entirely straight man. The detective determined 
 to chance it. He took some gold out of his pocket and 
 slowly and absently dropped ten sovereigns from one 
 hand to the other. Then he fixed his eyes on the other 
 man. 
 
 " It's worth just ten quid to me," he said distinctly, 
 " to find out where this opium shop is. No one will 
 ever know who told me." He held the closed fist con- 
 taining the gold out at arm's length. 
 
 [304]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Pickens' eyes glistened and he straightened himself 
 out to full l en gth. " I'm on," he said. " You'd better 
 leave it tc me. If old Chawley's at 'ome I'll git it out 
 of 'im." He was putting on his jacket as he spoke. 
 
 He refused the detective's company and went out. 
 Menzies did not rejoin Hallett and Royal, but reclining 
 with one elbow on the counter smoked stolidly and 
 thoughtfully till his return. Pickens was back within 
 half an hour. He took a dirty scrap of paper from his 
 waistcoat pocket and passed it to the detective. 
 
 " There y' are," he said. " I wrote it dahn to make 
 sure. It's a little general shop kept by a Chink Sing 
 Loo. All you've got to do is to knock at the side door 
 and ask if they can oblige you with a bottle of lime- 
 juice and a screw o' shag. That's the pass-word. 
 Where's that tenner?" 
 
 Menzies put the money into his hand and moved 
 swiftly to where Hallett and Royal awaited him. In a 
 little they were out in the, by now, almost deserted street. 
 The chief inspector set the pace and they moved at a 
 swift walk. No one spoke for a while. Once Menzies 
 stopped a policeman with an enquiry as to direction 
 and five minutes later they entered a short street 
 bounded on one side by a high blank factory wall and 
 on the other by a few small shuttered shops. 
 
 " That's the joint," said Menzies in a low voice, keep- 
 ing his head straight in front of him. " Mark it as we 
 go by. That one with ' Sing Loo ' on the fa9ia." 
 [305]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 They swung by at a smart pace and took the first 
 turning to the right. Not until they had walked for 
 ten minutes did Menzies speak again. " Either of you 
 chaps got a gun? " 
 
 Royal thrust a bull-dog revolver into his hands. 
 
 " Not for me," said Menzies. " You got one, Hal- 
 lett? " 
 
 " Not here," said Jimmie. 
 
 " You take this, then ; I wouldn't know how to hit 
 anything with it, anyhow." He halted and shook a 
 warning forefinger. " Don't get using it unless you've 
 got to. I want Ling alive. Now, Royal, you'll have to 
 hang about and use your own discretion once we're in 
 
 Hello ! What the blazes is a taxi doing in this 
 
 quarter at this time of night? " 
 
 A taxi-cab whizzed by them in the direction from 
 which they had come. It is not a mode of conveyance 
 largely favoured by the inhabitants of the back streets 
 of Shadwell, even in the daytime. In the small 
 hours of the morning it is probably as rare as an aero- 
 plane. 
 
 As though the same thought had simultaneously oc- 
 curred to each of them, the three raced after the retreat- 
 ing vehicle. It was, of course, a hopeless chase, but 
 there are moments when men do not stop to reason. 
 Menzies was the first to pull up. 
 
 " Take it steady, boys," he said. " We're only wast- 
 ing breath. The thing's a mile away by now." 
 
 [306]
 
 " Likely enough it's nothing to do with us," said 
 Royal optimistically. 
 
 " I've got a sort of feeling that it has, all the same. 
 Well I'll be petrified ! Here it comes again. Stop it." 
 
 They spread across the road, Royal flashing an elec- 
 tric torch as he moved. The three bawled fiercely to 
 the driver. For a moment he slackened speed as though 
 about to stop. Then, as if he had changed his mind, 
 the vehicle leapt swiftly forward. 
 
 Jimmie had a scant five seconds of time in which to 
 make up his mind. His hand closed on the revolver 
 and it occurred to him that there was only one thing 1 
 to do. The bonnet of the car was within a yard of him 
 when he leapt aside and pulled the trigger. With a shiv- 
 ering rattle the vehicle stopped. Menzies was at the 
 driver's side in an instant. 
 
 " Why didn't you stop when you were ordered ? " he 
 demanded in a blaze of wrath. " What's your num- 
 ber?" 
 
 " Why should I stop ? Who are you ? What busi- 
 ness is it of yours anyway? If you've smashed my 
 radiator The man's voice was less certain than 
 
 his words. 
 
 " We're police officers," said Menzies curtly. " Why 
 what's the matter, Royal? " 
 
 Royal had opened the door and his cry now inter- 
 rupted his chief. Menzies dropped back to him and 
 followed the segment of light directed from the ser- 
 
 [307]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 geant's pocket lamp to the interior of the cab. It fell 
 full on the white lifeless face of a woman leaning hud- 
 dled up in one of the corners. He gave an ejaculation 
 of surprise. The driver had descended from his seat 
 and was peering over the shoulders of the three. 
 
 " Good Gawd ! " he exclaimed. " She's fainted." 
 
 " She's dead," said Menzies. 
 
 He wheeled and his strong fingers bit deep into the 
 driver's shoulders. " Where did you pick her up ? " he 
 demanded. " Speak the truth or I'll shake it out of 
 you." 
 
 The man gazed helplessly up at him. " Strike me 
 lucky, guv'nor, I don't know nothing about it," he de- 
 clared. " She was alive two minutes ago. There was 
 a bloke with her. Where's he gone? " 
 
 Jimmie felt an eerie sensation along his scalp. He 
 had gazed at the dead face, ghastly in the rays of the 
 pocket torch which picked it out against the darkness 
 of the upholstering and, like the others, he had recog- 
 nised at once the features of Gwennie Lyne. 
 
 He had expected, he knew not what, when he peered 
 into the cab perhaps Ling himself. Certainly not that 
 grim dead face with the staring eyes. He shuddered. 
 
 " Tell us all about it quick," ordered Menzies. 
 " We've no time to waste. Come on, out with it." He 
 shook the man fiercely. " Everything, mind you, and 
 get to the point," 
 
 " I don't know anything about it," repeated the man 
 [308]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 again. " I was called by telephone from the cab rank 
 in Aldgate told how to get here and everything." 
 
 "Get where?" 
 
 " Why, to that Chinaman's place " 
 
 "Sing Loo?" 
 
 " Yes. That's the name. There was a couple of 
 fares there they said wanted to get to Shepherd's Bush. 
 So I come along here. Seems like they were waiting 
 for me, because directly I touched the bell the door 
 opened and there was a tall bloke and her." He jerked 
 his head towards the cab. " The bloke had his arm 
 round her and she walked with him to the cab. He 
 helped her in and then came round to me. * The lady 
 isn't very well, driver,' he says. ' I'm a doctor and I'm 
 going with her to a specialist at Shepherd's Bush. Drive 
 easy because I don't want her jolted more than can be 
 helped.' With that he gets into the cab at least the 
 door slams just as if he had and I drive off. That's 
 all I know about it, guv'nor, so 'elp me." 
 
 " You didn't know she'd been stabbed? " 
 
 He shook his head dumbly. Menzies released his grip. 
 " Royal, you'll have to handle this for the time. Go 
 to the nearest doctor first and have her examined. 
 Come along, Hallett." 
 
 He caught hold of Jimmie's elbow and without an- 
 other look at the cab and its grim burden started 
 eagerly forward. " It looks to me," he said in a low 
 voice, as though he was talking to himself, " that we're 
 
 [309]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 only just in time. Ling has struck a snag somehow. 
 He must have intended to lie up just as I said and 
 Gwennie and he have quarrelled somehow. If he'd meant 
 to lay her out he'd have done it when it was less awk- 
 ward for himself. As it is he was pushed to get the 
 body away, or he wouldn't have sent for a taxi and left 
 a trail right back to this joint. He means to vacate 
 quick, and that cab would have gone, in the ordinary 
 way, to the other end of London before we were on 
 to it." 
 
 " You think we'll get him this time ? " 
 " It's he or I for it now," said Menzies grimly. 
 66 Here we are." 
 
 He pressed the little electric button at the side door. 
 
 [310]
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE door was flung candidly open and a young Chi- 
 nese, clad in jersey, trousers supported by a belt, and 
 his feet in carpet slippers, faced the pair. He gave 
 not the slightest sign of astonishment or even of enquiry. 
 His narrow eyes blinked once or twice as he stood, one 
 hand on the door-knob, waiting for them to announce 
 their business. 
 
 Menzies swayed a little and there was a touch of inde- 
 cision in his voice. " I want a drink," he announced. 
 "A drinka lime juice. Me an' my frien' both want a 
 drink of lime juice an' an' a screw o' shag." 
 
 " Come light in," said the Chinese, and stood aside. 
 " You want Sing Loo. I go fetch him." 
 
 A second door barred the passage a few feet farther 
 along and he glided noiselessly towards it. Menzies 
 reached out to restrain him and then thought better of 
 it. The young man evidently a sort of hall-keeper 
 scratched lightly with his nail at a panel and someone 
 opened a tiny trap-door and a face peered through. 
 Jimmie realised that they were standing under the full 
 glare of a gas jet and subject to the full scrutiny of 
 the man behind the wicket. 
 
 There was a rapid interchange of words in incompre- 
 hensible language and then the click of a latch. An 
 elderly Chinese with long grey moustache and wrinkled 
 
 [311]
 
 yellow skin came towards them and the door closed 
 again. He spread out his hands in a sort of low 
 obeisance. 
 
 " Solly, gentlemen," he murmured softly. " You 
 want pipe? " He regarded them sideways out of his 
 slits of eyes with an expression of artfulness. " Solly." 
 
 " Wot in 'ell you palavering about ? " demanded Men- 
 zies thickly. " Wot are you sorry for? Me an' my 
 mate 'ere wants a smoke. Just off the ' Themistocles,' 
 y' know. We can pay." 
 
 The old Chinaman spread out his hands and lowered 
 his head humbly. " Solly," he repeated. " You've 
 made a mistake. My fliend six dolls up you get it. 
 Not hele." 
 
 " W'y you rotten slant-eyed old 'eathen," said Men- 
 zies irascibly. " Wot ya giving us ? You're Sing Loo, 
 ain't you? We was sent to you." 
 
 Sing Loo made a gesture of acquiescence. " I've re- 
 tiled," he said meekly. " My fliend up the stleet give 
 you plenty opium." 
 
 It was evident that his suspicions had been aroused 
 in some manner and that he was fully determined they 
 should not set foot within the interior room. Mean- 
 while time was flying. Menzies took a sudden step and, 
 whirling the Chinaman round, got his left arm in a 
 strangle hold round his throat. 
 
 " Make a sound and I'll throttle you," he whispered 
 tensely. " We want to have a look round this j oint 
 
 [312]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 savvy? Get that gun out, Hallett. Show it to him. 
 Put the muzzle right between his eyes so that he can 
 see it. That's right. Now shoot the blighter if he 
 makes an ugly move." He released his arm. " Now, 
 my lad, get going. Where is the man and the woman 
 who were here just now? " 
 
 Sing Loo's face was blank. If he was frightened he 
 did not show it save by an almost imperceptible whiten- 
 ing of the yellow skin. " No woman has been hele," he 
 stammered. 
 
 " Don't lie," said Menzies fiercely. " What do you 
 call that? " He stooped and picked a hairpin from the 
 floor and shook it between his finger and thumb in the 
 Chinaman's face. " I wonder if you're deeper in this 
 than I thought at first? " 
 
 His eyes narrowed and he surveyed the yellow face 
 with fresh suspicion. 
 
 Sing Loo gave back a step, as it were, involuntarily 
 and Jimmie followed him up with the revolver. He 
 waved a long slender hand in front of his face as though 
 to keep out the view of the menacing blue muzzle. 
 " There has been a woman," he admitted. " She came 
 to see a fliend and she went away in a cab." 
 
 " So. We're beginning to get at things at last. 
 How did she come to be here? And keep your voice 
 down. There's no need to shout." 
 
 " She came to see a fliend Mr. Ling. He saw hel 
 hele in this passage. They were angly very angly. 
 
 [313]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Then she fainted and he asked me to send a boy to get 
 a taxi to fetch hel away." 
 
 " Sounds as if you might be speaking the truth for 
 once," said Menzies. " Now listen to me, Sing Loo. Is 
 that man here still? " 
 
 " Yes, in the back loom. He's going soon after he's 
 had one mole pipe." 
 
 " Ah. He's got the craving in his blood, has he ? 
 Very well. We're new customers of yours, see? You'll 
 lead us in to where he is, and if you get gay remember 
 my friend's gun is liable to go off, and I'm a bad- 
 tempered man myself." 
 
 " I undelstand," murmured Sing Loo. " Come this 
 way." 
 
 Jimmie slipped the weapon into his overcoat pocket 
 and kept his hand on it ready for instant action. Men- 
 zies edged up close to Sing Loo and twisted his hand 
 into the other's sleeve. The inner door opened in re- 
 sponse to the Chinaman's summons and they found 
 themselves in a passage lighted very dimly in com- 
 parison to that outside. 
 
 Jimmie's heart was pounding with excitement. He 
 was glad that the chief inspector had permitted him to 
 carry the revolver. He had acquired a certain amount 
 of respect for Menzies, but he also had views about 
 Ling and he was resolved at the first hint of trouble to 
 shoot fast and to shoot first. The legal question of his 
 justification could be settled afterwards. 
 
 [314]
 
 Menzies, if his face was any index to his feelings, was 
 as unmoved and impassive as though he was about to 
 take a seat in a theatre. Ling was to him merely a 
 piece in the game that was so nearly played out a 
 piece he intended to remove from the board and then 
 to forget, except as something that had played a prom- 
 inent part in a well-fought game. 
 
 They descended a couple of steps into a gloomy room 
 lit by two or three tiny gas jets and a glowing fire. As 
 his eyes became accustomed to the darkness Jimmie saw 
 vague forms about the room, the majority lying on a 
 series of platforms with tiny glass lamps by their sides. 
 They were mostly smoking, one or two cigarettes and 
 others opium. A few were asleep. 
 
 The atmosphere was no new one to Jimmie. He rec- 
 ognised the usual paraphernalia of the inyun fun. 
 Each smoker had a tray with his apparatus from the 
 pipe itself to the yen hock used for smoking the opium 
 over the flame of the lamp. 
 
 Most of the customers were quite apathetic to the 
 entrance of the new arrivals. Menzies in one rapid 
 glance* gleaned the fact that there was no window and 
 that the only other egress from the room, except that 
 in which they stood, was at the opposite side of the room. 
 In the dim light it was at first impossible to make out 
 the identity of any of the smokers. 
 
 He relinquished his grip of Sing Loo's sleeve and 
 bounded across to the other door. Someone raised him- 
 
 [315]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 self on an elbow. " That you, Menzies ? " drawled a 
 lazy voice. " I'll give you credit for being a hustler 
 when you get on the go. Take that, you swine." 
 
 A streak of flame split the darkness and a bullet 
 smashed against the wall. Jimmie's pistol was levelled 
 and almost in the same instant his shot answered. 
 There was a groan, immediately stifled, and then a short 
 laugh. 
 
 " Bull's-eye five," said Ling in the monotonous 
 chant of the ranges. " That's one I owe to you, Master 
 Hallett. You've smashed my wrist. Good shooting in 
 this tricky light." 
 
 The place was filled with a vague vision of crawling 
 forms, all of those who were not too far under the influ- 
 ence of the drug being anxious to get out of the way of 
 the bullets. Jimmie's muzzle was full on the dark figure 
 of Ling. 
 
 " Drop your gun drop it, I say," he ordered per- 
 emptorily. 
 
 Ling laughed again. " All right, sonny, I know when 
 I've got enough. Don't I tell you you've smashed my 
 wrist. I aren't worth a cent at left-handed shooting. 
 Say, your friend Menzies seems to have got his medi- 
 cine." 
 
 The chief inspector had collapsed at the first shot, 
 and though Jimmie was too wary to take his eyes off 
 the master crook he had an impression of his great bulk 
 lying motionless at the other side of the room. 
 
 [316]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " Stand up," commanded Jimmie. " Put your hands 
 up. My God, Ling, I'm only looking for a good excuse 
 to plug you." He remembered Peggy and all she had 
 suffered at this man's hands and his blood boiled. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! Let not your angry passions arise." 
 Ling might have been remonstrating with a petulant 
 child, but he stood up nevertheless. " I told you I'd 
 got a bullet in my wrist, didn't I? How can I put my 
 hands up? I'll put one up if that'll suit you. You're 
 a smart boy, Hallett, but if you'd been alone I could 
 have handled you." 
 
 " Shut up ! " said Jimmie. " I want to think." 
 
 It was a position not without its difficulties. There 
 would have been a dozen solutions of the problem had 
 Menzies not been laid out. That had been a piece of 
 most execrable luck which had made all the difference. 
 So long as he held his back to the door and his weapon 
 on Ling Jimmie was in command. To remain like that 
 was, however, impossible. Something had to be done, 
 but what, it was hard to decide. For all that he knew 
 the place might be teeming with friends of Ling only 
 waiting for that steady muzzle to waver a second before 
 rushing him. At the best he was confident that five out 
 of every six of those present were crooks and black- 
 guards who would stick at little if it came to the 
 point. 
 
 Ling crystallised his dilemma with a sneer. " Say, 
 bo, you've got hold of a tiger's tail, haven't you? Don't 
 
 [317]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 know whether to keep hold or let go. You take my 
 advice and run home to your mummy." 
 
 Jimmie never answered. His lips were firm-pressed 
 and his dogged chin jutted out. Even if he had been 
 able to rush Ling out at the point of the revolver until 
 he found a police officer, he could not leave Menzies. 
 Moreover he had an idea that in any case Ling would 
 not calmly submit to such a programme. He lowered 
 the pistol muzzle a trifle and his finger hovered inde- 
 cisively over the trigger. An easy, simple way would 
 be to maim him so that he could not get away. A bullet 
 in the leg would do it. 
 
 Yet, when it came to the point, Jimmie could not press 
 the trigger. It was too cold-blooded to shoot down an 
 unarmed man. He wished Ling was not so cool that 
 he could give him an excuse for an attempt at violence. 
 Otherwise it seemed a stale mate. 
 
 Of course there was Royal. Sooner or later he would 
 be back or would send aid of some sort. But then Royal 
 had his hands full for the time and he might believe 
 that they were capable of coping with the situation 
 without assistance. It might be hours before relief was 
 to be looked for from that quarter. 
 
 " Well, what are you going to do about it, sonny? " 
 asked Ling coolly. " Seems to me that you'll have to 
 do a heap of thinking before you take me. Meanwhile, 
 if you don't mind my saying so, my arm's getting 
 tired." 
 
 [318]
 
 " You'll keep as you are if you're wise. I can keep 
 my tiger one way if he puts temptation in front of 
 me." 
 
 " Right you are," acquiesced Ling cheerfully. " I'll 
 try to endure it, only I just hate to hear your brains 
 creak under the strain." 
 
 Jimmie could have sworn he had come nearer, yet 
 he had not noticed him move. He strained his eyes 
 and what he saw made him tighten up. The one hand 
 held by the crook above his head had the two middle 
 fingers and the thumb closed. The first and little finger 
 were extended right out. To a man not aware of the 
 trick it might have seemed insignificant. But Jimmie 
 had seen it before seen it carried out. Ling was ma- 
 noeuvring to get within reach of him. Then these two 
 fingers could be used with deadly effect in a leap one 
 in each eye, and in his blinding, agonising pain he would 
 be at his opponent's mercy. 
 
 " Go back," he said crisply, " back three paces. I 
 like you better at a distance." 
 
 As Ling obeyed Jimmie turned his eyes for the frac- 
 tion of a second to the place where he had seen Menzies 
 fall. There was nothing there. Forgetful in his sur- 
 prise of the importance of watching Ling he stared 
 blankly, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks with 
 him. Menzies had certainly gone. 
 
 His distraction was only momentary, but it was the 
 chance for which the other had been waiting. Swiftly 
 
 [319]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 and noiselessly as the tiger with which he had compared 
 himself Ling moved. Jimmie fired wildly and knew in- 
 stinctively that he had missed. Yet Ling had crashed 
 forward headlong and was cursing as he squirmed on 
 the boarded floor, struggling to free himself from some- 
 one who had gripped him as he fell. 
 
 Then Jimmie understood. Menzies had not been hit 
 at all. He must have foreseen Ling's purpose and 
 dropped just the fraction of a second before the bullet 
 sped over his head. Then he must have wormed his way 
 silently across the floor towards the crook, his progress 
 unnoticed among the recumbent forms in the half light. 
 
 After his first vitriolic outburst Ling fought in grim 
 silence. Jimmie dared not leave his post by the door 
 to go to Menzies' assistance and he watched breathlessly, 
 wondering if he dared risk a second shot. He could hear 
 the harsh breathing of the two men, their shuffling on 
 the floor as they manoeuvred for the top position, and 
 now and then the thud of a blow. It ought, he thought, 
 to be a fairly easy thing for Menzies if Ling's right 
 wrist had really been smashed. Then he remembered 
 that the detective also had a left hand injured. In that 
 respect the struggle was nearly equal. 
 
 Once there was a gasp that was almost a groan ; once 
 a fierce epithet punctuated the laboured breathing. 
 Though he strained his eyes Jimmie could not make out 
 in whose favour the struggle was proceeding he could 
 only see a bundle of twisted, straining forms with first 
 [320]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 one man on top and then the other. They rolled over 
 one of the drugged smokers and he paid no more atten- 
 tion than if he had been a corpse. Then, silhouetted 
 against the gas flame for a tithe of a second was an 
 upraised hand and below it the fantastic reflection of 
 light on steel. 
 
 Jimmie focused his weapon, but before he could draw 
 a sight another hand grasped the wrist and wrenched it 
 down. The knife dropped with a little musical tinkle 
 and the two forms became obscure again. Then he be- 
 came aware of a man's head slowly rising into the dim 
 light and he saw that it was Menzies. The vision was 
 like a badly focused cinema picture. Menzies' hand 
 was at the other's throat and he dragged him slowly, 
 relentlessly upwards and then suddenly flung all his 
 force downwards. There was a crash as Ling's skull 
 touched the boards and the chief inspector got shakily 
 to his feet. He passed a dazed hand over his forehead 
 and laughed a trifle shakily. 
 
 " I'm getting a bit too fat for this sort of work," he 
 said. 
 
 He spoke as though he had been engaged in a football 
 match rather than a life-and-death struggle. Hallett 
 laughed too, the overstrained laugh of relief. " Bully for 
 you," he agreed. " I thought you were down and out." 
 
 " A close thing," admitted the chief inspector, mop- 
 ping his brow with a big handkerchief. " He had the 
 pull of us. His eyes were used to the light. I just 
 [321]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 caught him pulling the gun in time and dropped. I 
 concluded in the circumstances I'd let you play the hand 
 until I got a chance to chip in." 
 
 " How about him ? " asked Jimmie. 
 
 "Him! Oh, he's all right. I've not killed him. 
 Only a little tap on the head to knock some of the 
 deviltry out of him. You keep on holding up this room 
 full of toughs. I'll be back in a minute. Don't let 
 anyone in or out." 
 
 He slipped by Hallett into the passage. Presently 
 Jimmie heard from without the shrill series of long 
 and short whistles which in the Metropolitan Police is 
 a call for assistance. In two or three minutes Menzies 
 was back, though outside the whistle was repeated. 
 
 " We're all right now," he said casually. " There'll 
 be a regular little army here in no time." 
 
 Jimmie looked at him in astonishment. " Well, you 
 take it," he said. " You come to this place practically 
 single-handed, you lay out Ling, and now he's there for 
 you to do what you like with, you go and call up help. 
 What do you want more than one or two constables for, 
 anyway? We could have run him up ourselves, for that 
 matter." 
 
 There was a twinkle in Menzies' eye. He swept a 
 hand round comprehensively. " And leave this nest be- 
 hind me, eh? Don't forget I'm a policeman, laddie. If 
 I'm engaged in a forgery case it's no reason I should 
 shut my eyes when I see your pocket being picked."
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 In an incredibly short space of time, as it seemed to 
 Jiinmie, the place was swarming with policemen. They 
 were prompt and businesslike, and there was no unneces- 
 sary fuss. Sing Loo went off protesting and tearful 
 between a couple of stalwart constables and a similar 
 escort was provided for most of his clients who were able 
 to walk. On the others a guard was placed. 
 
 Menzies walked over to Ling and, lifting his head, 
 forced a flask of brandy between his teeth. The crook 
 sat up and opened his eyes. Then with a sudden move- 
 ment he knocked the flask away and scowled on the 
 detective. 
 
 " You got me," he growled deep in his throat. Then 
 with a sudden spasm of energy, " By H , Mr. Po- 
 liceman, you may think you've got the odd trick, but 
 the rubber isn't played out yet." 
 
 " You don't want to talk for a minute," said Men- 
 zies placidly. " Better have a drink." 
 
 323 ]
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE scar on Ling's temple was flaming blood-red 
 against the whiteness of his features as they brought him 
 into the cold, businesslike atmosphere of the bare charge 
 room of the police station. His ordinary clothes had 
 been removed when he was searched and the suit tem- 
 porarily substituted hung loosely about him. His in- 
 jured wrist had been bandaged and he had had doctor's 
 attention since he had been brought from the opium 
 joint. He looked ill and worn, yet his eyes flamed 
 indomitably as he glanced from one to the other of the 
 little group of men who were awaiting him. 
 
 " We're all here, ain't we? " he snarled. " Why don't 
 you get on with the seance? " 
 
 The beast in him was still at the top, but to the men 
 there his words did not at all matter. They were con- 
 tent to know that he had been run down and they were 
 only concerned to see that he was held in safe-keeping 
 till the mechanism of the law had been put into opera- 
 tion. No one resented his manner so long as it did not 
 go to physical violence. He was impersonal a piece of 
 merchandise that had to be dealt with. When they had 
 done with him he would be put back in a cell like any 
 common drunk and disorderly, and be more or less 
 forgotten when any reasonable physical wants had been 
 attended to. 
 
 [324]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 That was the impression Jimmie had of these men in 
 his mind. And partly he was right. Yet Menzies at 
 least, though his nonchalant manner did not show it, had 
 a sense of triumph, of work in great part achieved that 
 made him view Ling with a more personal interest. 
 Ling as Ling did not matter to him, but Ling as a 
 symbol of the forces which he had defeated was of 
 mighty interest. 
 
 The whole scene struck Jimmie as something unreal 
 like a badly stage managed, badly acted scene in a 
 play. The spectacular, the melodramatic touch was ab- 
 sent. The grey dawn was filtering through the skylight, 
 yellowing the electric bulbs, yet Menzies did not stalk 
 to the centre of the stage and with outstretched arm 
 denounce the villain of the piece. He was not made up 
 for the part. 
 
 Instead, a bare-headed police inspector Jimmie 
 thought he looked singularly unreal without his cap and 
 sword belt sauntered casually to the tall charge desk 
 and leaning one elbow upon it lifted a pen. Ling was 
 standing a few paces away between a couple of police- 
 men but not even in the dock. Menzies moved over to 
 the desk and leaning both arms on the back of it talked 
 to the inspector. Jimmie caught a word or two here 
 and there, but even then he did not realise at first that 
 the charge was being made. 
 
 "... wilful murder on the night of. ... I charge 
 .him. ..." 
 
 [325]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 The inspector's pen scratched busily. Then, putting 
 the pen in his mouth, he used both hands to blot what 
 he had written and read it critically before inviting 
 Menzies' signature. 
 
 " Thank you," he said politely. " Now " He 
 
 raised his head and looked at the prisoner. 
 
 " Stewart Reader Ling, you heard what the chief 
 inspector said. You are charged with the wilful mur- 
 der of John Edward Greye-Stratton. No. Keep quiet 
 
 for a minute ' He raised a placatory hand as 
 
 Ling opened his lips. " If there's anything you wish 
 to say you may do so, but I shall take it down in writ- 
 ing and it may be used as evidence against you." 
 
 " You think you can prove that? " said Ling. 
 
 " There are two other charges of murder I may as 
 well tell you will be brought against you later," said 
 Menzies, ignoring the question. " One is in connection 
 with the death of a fireman in Levoine Street " 
 
 " Here. Hold on a minute, Mr. Man. What fire- 
 man's this? I never killed any fireman. There was one 
 knocked out for a while, but he wasn't killed by a long 
 way." 
 
 " He was killed when the building burnt out. We 
 call that murder. The third case is that of the woman 
 known as Gwennie Lyne whom you are believed to have 
 stabbed to-night." 
 
 Little wrinkles of profound amusement appeared on 
 Ling's face. " You seem to have got it right in for 
 
 [ 3.26 ]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 me," he laughed. " I reckon you'll wish you'd been a 
 bit smarter by the time you get through. It's mournful 
 to see you struggling. You don't mean that Gwennie 
 got past you with that fake. I didn't believe she'd pull 
 it off even against you bone-heads." He chuckled again 
 as if intensely entertained. 
 
 Several pairs of puzzled eyes were centred on him. 
 All had a suspicion that he was trying to work some 
 new kind of bluff. Menzies alone guessed what he was 
 driving at. He clenched his fist tightly but kept an 
 unmoved face to the prisoner. 
 
 " Gwennie's not dead," said Menzies crisply. 
 
 There was not a man in the room who was not startled 
 at the words so casually uttered. Ling's mouth re- 
 mained open in ludicrous astonishment and he would 
 have taken a step towards the chief inspector had 
 not a touch on his sleeve reminded him of his guard. 
 Then his face relaxed as his keen wits began work- 
 ing. 
 
 " You're a hell of a guesser," he retorted. " You got 
 me for the minute. I reckon Gwennie is far enough 
 away by this time. She's not murdered, anyway, and I 
 don't believe I'd have stayed and waited for you if I'd 
 had anything to do with the killing of the others. 
 Gwennie's the one you want to get. She fixed up the 
 place in Levoine Street, and it was she who did in the 
 old man. You write that down, Benjamin." He ad- 
 dressed the inspector at the charge desk. 
 
 [ 327 ]
 
 " So you're going to lay it all on to her now? " said 
 Menzies with a note of scorn in his voice. 
 
 " You'd better bet I am, sonny. Gwennie can look 
 after herself. You've kept us on the run pretty hot for 
 a day or two but to-night's been the limit. The only 
 fault with you as a sleuth, Menzies, is that your im- 
 agination doesn't go far enough." 
 
 A retort rose to Menzies' lips but he suppressed it. 
 He was too old a hand to taunt a prisoner. 
 
 " Yes, sir," went on Ling. " That's what you want 
 imagination. I'll own I didn't expect you to- smell out 
 that opium joint as quick as you did or we'd never have 
 gone there. We were surprised some when you and the 
 other two walked down the street. I'll make you a 
 present of that. Your imagination didn't rise to us 
 having a lookout. If you'd have walked in then you'd 
 have found both the little birdies at home Gwennie and 
 me. It isn't exactly a place for a lady and she had 
 already sent for a cab, not feeling that she could be real 
 homelike there. If we'd known there were only the three 
 of you we might have tried a run in the other direction, 
 but we thought that you'd got the place shut off tighter 
 than you did Levoine Street. 
 
 " So we fixed a little stunt for your benefit. You'll 
 have got the idea by this time. You see she'd got more 
 at stake than I had me being innocent of all these 
 things you've accused me of so we had to see to her 
 get-away first. It was her stunt all through a fake 
 [328]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 quarrel in the passage, some flour well rubbed into her 
 face and a touch of brown paint on her dress just above 
 her heart. She looked real ghastly when the cab came 
 up and I helped her in. 
 
 " We reckoned you'd rise to it," went on Ling drily. 
 " If the cab did get through well and good. If it didn't, 
 why you wouldn't keep as close an eye on a corpse as 
 you would on a live woman and you could trust Gwennie 
 to light out when she saw her chance. Anyway it was 
 the best we could do in a hurry. I stayed a little longer 
 than I ought. Guess I thought there was time for one 
 more pipe. Anyway, if you think you can touch me 
 for murder you can't you've got to get her. She's 
 away by now, so my telling won't hurt her." 
 
 He grinned maliciously as he finished. The station 
 officer calmly put down his pen. 
 
 " Done ? " he queried. 
 
 " That's all I've got to say just now. My lawyer 3 !! 
 do the talking if you go on with this." 
 
 " Take him below," ordered the inspector and began 
 to gather up his papers. 
 
 Jimmie eagerly turned to Menzies. " What do you 
 make of it ? " he asked. " How did you know about 
 Gwennie ? I've been with you ever since and " 
 
 The chief inspector smoothed his sparse hair. 
 " Didn't know," he said shortly. " I guessed. We were 
 too pushed to judge except by appearances and he's 
 probably right about it's being a fake. No good worry- 
 
 [329]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 ing till we hear from Royal. He may have tumbled to 
 it, but you see he'd go to a hospital and then to the local 
 station and then perhaps on to the opium joint. We 
 don't know what sort of a rumpus he may have had. 
 We came straight on here to Kensington to charge Ling. 
 If she's got away he'll have done everything necessary 
 to head her off. We can only wait in patience." 
 
 " But he won't know where you are," remonstrated 
 Jimmie. 
 
 Menzies smiled. " He knows that I'd have brought 
 Ling here, and if he didn't he could find out in ten min- 
 utes by putting in an all-station call from wherever he 
 happened to be. There's the tape machine and the 
 telephone to every police station in London and you 
 can't lose an officer unless he wants to be lost. No, 
 the question of Gwennie isn't going to upset me yet. 
 In our business you can't often run a one-man show. 
 You've got to trust your colleagues. Royal's keen 
 enough, and if she should bilk him the wires would be 
 alight mighty quick." He pulled out his watch. " I 
 shall give him another five minutes and then go home. 
 I'm fairly worn out." 
 
 " Do you think there's anything in that guff of 
 Ling's? Whether he's bluffing or not, it seems to me 
 you've got your work cut out to prove any murder 
 against him if she does get away. She had as much 
 motive as he did." 
 
 "Yes. It sounded plausible, didn't it?" said the 
 [330]
 
 chief inspector serenely. " There's only one little legal 
 point that he as well as you missed. I'm dead sure that 
 Ling killed Greye-Stratton but it wouldn't make the 
 slightest difference to him if I couldn't prove it which 
 I think I can. It doesn't matter a button who fired the 
 shot all those in the conspiracy are equally guilty of 
 murder even if they were a million miles away at the 
 time. There's the motive, there's the fact that Ling (or 
 someone wearing clothes of exactly the same material, 
 which would be an extraordinary coincidence) was in 
 the house; there is Greye-Stratton's pistol, which you 
 will have to swear you took from him, and oh, there's 
 a dozen things." 
 
 The swing door of the charge room clattered noisily 
 open and Jimmie wheeled to confront Royal. The 
 detective-sergeant's clothes were torn and smothered in 
 mud and there was an ugly black bruise on his face. 
 Deep encrimsoned scratches were on both cheeks and 
 his eyes were bloodshot. He laughed unsteadily as he 
 saw them. 
 
 " What a night we're having ! " he said. " What a 
 light we're having ! You got Ling? " 
 
 [331]
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 MENZIES was at his side in an instant and had slipped 
 a supporting arm round him. 
 
 " Got him tight," he answered. " You look to have 
 been in something, old chap. Much hurt? All right, 
 don't trouble to talk now." He raised his voice. " One 
 of you people call that doctor up again." 
 
 " I got Gwennie," muttered Royal feebly. " Slip- 
 pery Jezebel she is, too, but I got her. She wasn't dead 
 at all, Mr. Menzies. She. ..." 
 
 " That's all right," said the chief inspector sooth- 
 ingly. " You shall tell us all about that later." But 
 he drew a long breath of relief. 
 
 It was half an hour later that Royal, pulled together 
 by the skilled ministrations of the divisional surgeon, 
 was able to tell his story. He grinned apologetically at 
 Menzies. 
 
 " Sorry to have made an ass of myself like that, sir," 
 he said. " I wanted to come right on and tell you all 
 about it so I didn't stay to be patched up. I never 
 thought I'd get the worst doing I've ever had from an 
 old woman." 
 
 " She seems to have mucked you up and that's a 
 fact," agreed Menzies. 
 
 " She did that," explained Royal. " I was too busy 
 cursing my luck at being left to look after a deader 
 [332]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 while you were on the warpath with Ling that I never 
 stopped to consider she mightn't be dead after all." 
 
 " I made the same mistake," said Menzies. " You 
 aren't to blame there." 
 
 " Maybe I was in a bit of a hurry," confessed Royal. 
 " I didn't think a corpse required much watching. I 
 was thinking of the driver. He might have been all 
 right and again he mightn't. So when he patched the 
 engine up I took my seat alongside of him and we 
 started off for the hospital at quite a respectable speed. 
 We'd just turned into the main road when I heard a 
 click behind me and it flashed across my mind that I'd 
 been careless in taking the old girl so much on trust. I 
 bent round the side of the cab to take a look through 
 the window and there was a hand fumbling with the 
 door handle. I'd had to twist like an acrobat to get a 
 fair look and I suppose I was a little off my guard. 
 First thing I knew the cab gave a lurch and I was 
 rolling over and over in the mud of the roadway. It 
 was a mercy I didn't break my neck, but I wasn't think- 
 ing of that. I just picked myself up and there was the 
 cab a hundred yards ahead putting on steam for all 
 it was worth. 
 
 " It came to me then what a damn fool I'd been. If 
 you'll believe me, sir, I hadn't even taken the number 
 of that rotten cab, and it was too far away to see it. 
 ' This about puts the finish to your career in the C. I. D., 
 Royal, my man,' I thinks to myself and pulled out my 
 
 [ 333 ]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 whistle. Of course I knew there wasn't a chance in a 
 million of that doing any good. She'd got too big a 
 start. 
 
 " I'm not much of a believer in miracles, but I'm 
 blest if one didn't happen then. As I'm alive a great 
 big touring car came sliding along towards me. The 
 chauffeur was bringing it back from Southend or some- 
 where, I learned afterwards. I jumped to it and pulled 
 him up. 
 
 " ' You noticed a taxi-cab that you've just passed,' I 
 says. 
 
 " He looks me up and down and you can guess I was 
 in a pretty pickle of mud from head to foot. If I 
 hadn't pulled myself up into the seat alongside of him 
 and took possession I reckon he'd have gone on with- 
 out me. 
 
 " ' You've got a devil of a cool nerve,' he says. * Get 
 off this car or I'll fling you off and call a policeman.' 
 
 " I was getting over my shake-up a bit then, but there 
 wasn't time for argument. ' For God's sake don't chew 
 the rag with me,' I says. ' Turn her head round and 
 get after that cab before it gets a chance to dodge 
 me.' 
 
 " Well, that chauffeur was a sport. I will say that 
 for him. He jerked that big car about in double-quick 
 time and we began sliding after Gwennie. I felt my luck 
 was in. 
 
 " ' Now what's it all about? ' he says as soon as we 
 
 [ 334 ]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 got going. ' If you're having a game with me, my lad, 
 you've got the biggest sort of hiding you ever had in 
 your life coming to you.' He looked it, too. 
 
 " ' I'm a detective officer,' I says, * and in that cab 
 there's a woman wanted for murder. Now bust your car 
 or catch her.' 
 
 " He nodded and let the car out. You know the 
 Wliitechapel Road's fairly straight in stretches and we 
 had a view of the cab before it took one of the bends. 
 There'll be some summonses out against that car this 
 morning for exceeding the speed limit unless we put in 
 a word. That chauffeur was quick to take a hint and 
 you can bet we shifted. The road was fairly clear at 
 that hour and we came up to the cab as if it was stand- 
 ing still. 
 
 " ' What do you want me to do? ' asks the chauffeur. 
 
 " ' Get alongside and yell to the driver to stop,' I says. 
 I hadn't any plan very clear in my own mind and that 
 was the best I could rake up at the moment. It was 
 just silly, too, because if he'd stop for a demand like 
 that he'd have stopped when I tumbled off. 
 
 " Anyway we tried it, and then I got an idea of what 
 was happening. The driver's face was like dirty white 
 paper and he was hanging on to the steering wheel like 
 grim death. Inside Gwennie had opened one of the 
 windows you know some taxi-cabs have got windows 
 that open straight on to the driver's seat and was 
 t leaning forward with a little ivory-mounted pistol in her 
 
 [335]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 hand. lie told me later on that when I tumbled off he 
 started to pull up and the feel of the pistol muzzle in 
 his ribs was the first thing that woke him up to the fact 
 that Gwennie was going to have a say-so. He thought 
 she was a ghost at first. 
 
 " As we came level I yelled to the man to stop. He 
 just took no notice. She had him too thoroughly 
 frightened for that. All his mind was on his steering 
 and that wicked little pistol that was behind his back. 
 
 " Then she saw us and swung the pistol round to- 
 wards us. But she never fired. She must have under- 
 stood what kind of a fix I was in, for, while she kept the 
 cab going, it seemed impossible that I could get at her. 
 She just smiled and then kissed her hand towards me. 
 
 " That got my goat. I passed the word to my chauf- 
 feur to drop a little behind and then I put it to him. 
 
 " ' Can you cut a wheel off that thing for me smash 
 the blighting thing up ? ' 
 
 " It didn't seem to appeal to him. He looked grave. 
 * I wouldn't mind so much if this was one of the guv- 
 'nor's old cars,' he says, ' but it isn't. It's his pet and 
 I wouldn't risk a smash for anything.' 
 
 " ' How much petrol have you got? ' I asks, thinking 
 we might shadow the other car till it was forced to come 
 to a standstill. 
 
 " * I don't know exactly,' he answers, ' but it isn't 
 much. We may get to the bottom of the tank any min- 
 ute. Whatever you're going to do you'd better do 
 [336]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 quick. I'm game for anything that won't do in the car. 5 
 
 " I looked at the road sliding past and it gave me 
 the shivers. We were fairly hustling. However, I 
 wasn't going to let her have the laugh at me. 
 
 " ' You put us level with that cab again,' I says, ' and 
 hold as close and as near the same pace as you can. I'm 
 going to board it.' 
 
 " You'll be killed,' he says. 
 
 " ' That's my business,' I tells him. * I've got to stop 
 that woman and I'm going to do it.' I was pretty well 
 strung up. Perhaps her kissing her hand to me had 
 something to do with it. 
 
 " Well, he eased up to let me get on the footboard 
 and I held on with one hand. I knew I had to be mighty 
 quick in pulling open the door of the cab and grab- 
 bing Gwennie and I didn't like the idea of her pistol a 
 little bit. 
 
 " That chauffeur knew how to handle a car. He swung 
 out a bit a little behind till he had gauged the pace and 
 then he edged till as we drew level again there wasn't 
 three inches between the two cars. I tore at the door of 
 the cab and wrenched it open somehow. I hate to think 
 in cold blood of how I did it. There wasn't much time 
 for thinking and I went for her hell for leather before 
 she could get to work with the shooter. 
 
 " I got her wrist as she turned and smashed it 
 against the side window. It cut us both about a bit, 
 but she dropped the gun, and that was the great thing. 
 
 [337]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 They say it wasn't two minutes before the cab stopped 
 then. It was just about the busiest two minutes I ever 
 spent. A tiger's cage would be a peaceful spot com- 
 pared to the inside of that cab. She may be a woman, 
 and an old woman at that, but she's got muscles like 
 whipcord. 
 
 " Once she got her hand at the back of my neck 
 and I saw forty million stars as she flung me up against 
 the side of the cab. Then I got my arms around her 
 and tried to force her down, and she used her ten com- 
 mandments on my face. I thought my cheeks had gone. 
 And all the while that door was open and I'd got a 
 kind of idea that at any minute we might both go 
 through it. 
 
 " But we didn't, although we must have been near it 
 once or twice. I'd got my arms locked round her and 
 I wasn't going to let go, though I was half tempted to 
 take a chance and smash her one under the jaw to lay 
 her out especially when she got her teeth into my 
 shoulder and bit right through coat and all. She was 
 all animal just then. 
 
 " At last the cab stopped and my chauffeur comes to 
 my help. The driver was too paralysed to do anything 
 but sit staring, goggle-eyed. We dragged her out into 
 the roadway and managed to get the cuffs on her a 
 nice job that was, too just as a constable came up. 
 
 " Things were easy after that. She saw the jig was 
 up and didn't make too much trouble. I shipped her 
 [338]
 
 down to the local station and left her there without any 
 charge, and when I found you were here came on 
 straight away. I thought you'd like to know. Shall I 
 make out my report in the morning, sir? " 
 
 Menzies nodded complacently and let a hand drop 
 gently on his subordinate's shoulder. " You run away, 
 laddie, and get some sleep," he said. " That's all you've 
 got to think of now. There's no urgency about getting 
 to the office to-morrow. Let me know when you turn 
 up, that's all. By the way, did you ever pass the Civil 
 Service examination for inspector? " 
 
 Royal's face glowed. " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Then I wouldn't wonder if you got called before the 
 C. I. Board sometime. Good-night. Which way you 
 going, Hallett?" 
 
 " Back to the hotel. What time will you be off duty 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 The glance the chief inspector shot at him had a 
 mixture of questioning and amusement. " To-morrow 
 looks like being my busy day. Why do you ask? " 
 
 '* Oh, nothing." Jimmie was a trifle confused. " I've 
 been taking a little interest in gardening lately and I 
 thought I'd like to have a look at some of your roses 
 again if you'd let me come over to Magersfontein Road 
 sometime." 
 
 " H'm." Menzies surveyed him doubtingly. " I don't 
 know. Honest Injun. Now do you know a Captain 
 Hay ward from a Caroline Testout? " 
 
 [339]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " I was hoping to learn something from you," said 
 Jimmie humbly. 
 
 " I'll bet you are," agreed Menzies. " You turn up 
 at the Yard at six to-morrow evening if I don't send for 
 you before and we'll see." 
 
 [340]
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 TRULY, as he had said, this was Menzies' busy day. He 
 sat bending over his desk, going over the piles of papers 
 which were the evidence of the minuteness with which 
 Scotland Yard, aided by other great police organisa- 
 tions, had ransacked the world for the smallest facts. 
 Hundreds of men had spent days and money in com- 
 piling these reports and nine-tenths of them were use- 
 less. 
 
 Before he met the Treasury Solicitor, and the 
 counsel who would have charge of the case in court, it 
 was his task to have his evidence at least roughly sorted 
 into what was material and what was not material, if 
 he did not want to have it straightened out by the legal 
 advisers of the Treasury. 
 
 More than once the doer opened noiselessly and Foyle 
 peeped in, took one look at the industrious figure at the 
 desk, and as noiselessly vanished. 
 
 As he arranged the reports, Menzies sent for the 
 officer responsible for each one and went through his 
 statement with him with deliberate care. Sometimes a 
 man would be sent out again to further verify an im- 
 portant point which had appeared of no great value at 
 the time the statement was taken. Gradually things be- 
 gan to fall into shape. The chief inspector began to 
 pack the documents and exhibits into a despatch case. 
 [341]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 For the fifth time Helden Foyle poked his head inside 
 the door and then the rest of his body followed. Men- 
 zies looked up and nodded. 
 
 " Just finished," he said. 
 
 " How does it look? " Foyle asked. 
 
 " Fair. Very fair indeed," said Menzies cautiously. 
 
 " Heard about Ling? " demanded the superintendent. 
 
 "What about him? I was down at the station on 
 my way here and there was nothing much fresh then." 
 
 " Nothing much. It's interesting, though." Foyle 
 kicked an obdurate coal with the toe of his brightly 
 polished boot. " It happened after you had gone and 
 they've just had me on the 'phone. You know they 
 put a constable in the cell with him? He offered the 
 man one hundred pounds to smuggle him out." 
 
 " That's interesting. Looks as if he doesn't fancy 
 his chance overmuch." The detail did not appear to 
 greatly stir Menzies. 
 
 " Yes, but listen to this. The blame fool, after re- 
 fusing it, seems to have got into conversation with Ling 
 and asked him if he really did shoot Greye-Stratton." 
 
 Some sign of consternation flickered over Menzies' 
 face. " You don't say," he exclaimed. " The cabbage- 
 headed idiot ! " . . . Words failed him. 
 
 There is one unforgiveable blunder in the Metro- 
 politan Police, the hideousness of which no layman can 
 adequately plumb. To question a prisoner, to coax or 
 bully him into an admission of guilt is one of those things 
 [342]
 
 that no zeal, no temptation can excuse. It is not merely 
 that it is against the law. It is not playing the game. 
 The slightest suggestion that such a course has been 
 pursued has before now secured a guilty man's ac- 
 quittal. 
 
 Foyle kicked the coals again and the action seemed 
 to afford him some relief. *' And Ling admitted it. The 
 chap was so proud of what he'd done that he took a note 
 of the conversation." 
 
 " I don't see what we can do," said Menzies slowly. 
 " We can't put the constable in the box. The only thing 
 to do is to let it slide. If we don't use it the defence 
 won't make a point of it." 
 
 " What I'm wondering about," said the superin- 
 tendent, " is if your evidence is water-tight as it stands. 
 You see, even if Ling should make a voluntary admission 
 now it's tainted. He's been seeing that shyster Lexton 
 and I wouldn't wonder if all this wasn't a carefully 
 put-up trap." 
 
 Weir Menzies drew his brows together and began 
 eating his moustache. " There might be something in 
 that," he agreed. " Lexton's a good lawyer and it's 
 like him." 
 
 " See." Foyle demonstrated with a forefinger. " If 
 we could be tempted into putting an officer in the box 
 to say that Ling had confessed he'd have us by the short 
 hair. We'd have to admit that at least one of our men 
 had questioned him and " he snapped his fingers 
 
 [343]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 " there you are. The whole police evidence tainted. 
 We're so anxious for a conviction that we've applied 
 third-degree methods in England. Why, he'd be ac- 
 quitted if he'd committed as many murders as Herod." 
 
 " I quite understand, sir." Menzies was a little peev- 
 ish at having the i's dotted. " If he makes a thousand 
 confessions we won't use them." 
 
 " I only wanted to put you wise," said Foyle almost 
 apologetically. " You've got to rely on a straightfor- 
 ward case. Got it mapped out? " 
 
 " I think so. There's the direct case against him. 
 There's plenty of evidence to indicate Gwennie Lyne's 
 association, and we've got Miss Greye-Stratton's story. 
 Big Rufe was caught, so to speak, red-handed, and I 
 rather fancy when he sees how deep he's in he'll turn 
 King's evidence. We don't want that, though, if we 
 can help it." 
 
 " No. I should think not," said the superintendent 
 quickly. He had all the prejudice of the trained man 
 against calling the assistance of one guilty person to 
 convict others. King's evidence is never suggested by 
 Scotland Yard officers except as a last resource. 
 
 " The weak point," said Menzies, " is Dago Sam. 
 Except his threatening Hallett, and what Cincinnati Red 
 can tell us about him, we've got little to connect him 
 up." 
 
 " Well, see what the lawyers say," said Foyle. 
 " After all, it's their funeral now." 
 [344]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 Menzies nevertheless had a doubt rankling in his mind, 
 and before he left for the consultation with the legal 
 lights he had put into motion again all the machinery 
 that he could bring to bear to find out whether any part 
 of the case as affecting Dago Sam had been overlooked. 
 He held no animus. He would cheerfully have volun- 
 teered any statement in favour of a prisoner, but equally 
 he had that stern sense of duty that impelled him to 
 make sure he had every accessible fact. 
 
 Many difficulties had been brushed away since all the 
 main persons of the drama were in his hands, and it not 
 infrequently happens that evidence of vast import is 
 picked up after arrests have been effected. It is then 
 possible to go over the ground more at leisure and with 
 an undetached mind. 
 
 Congreve, with a big Gladstone bag and an air of 
 jubilation, was awaiting him when he returned from 
 Whitehall. He had been assisting in the search of the 
 opium house, and, though he suppressed it well, it was 
 plain to the inspector's keen eyes that he was labouring 
 under some excitement. 
 
 "Having a birthday, Congreve?" he said. "You 
 look happy." 
 
 The other was diving into the bag. He stood up 
 with something wrapped in tissue paper in his arms. 
 " We went over that place as you said, sir. Mostly old 
 pipes and lamps and all the old junk that you'd expect. 
 I left it in charge of Hugh. There was one room, 
 [345]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 though, that had apparently been lived in by a Euro- 
 pean, proper bed and washstand and everything. The 
 mattress looked rather uneven, so we undid it. Found 
 this suit of clothes stuffed in it. Shouldn't wonder if 
 we found that they fit Ling. Here's the jacket. Look 
 at the stain on the left sleeve and breast. 
 
 " Don't be in a hurry to jump to conclusions, Con- 
 greve," said Menzies calmly. 
 
 " It's blood, all right, sir," asserted Congreve con- 
 fidently. " Look." He pointed as Menzies spread the 
 jacket carefully over the desk. " You'll remember how 
 the dead man was lying on his left side with his face 
 towards the fireplace. Anyone approaching the body 
 would naturally come from behind and use the left arm 
 to support the head. If the wound was bleeding freely 
 then the jacket would be soaked exactly like this 
 one." 
 
 Menzies opened a penknife and removed a hair from 
 the breast of the coat. " Go and get me two small 
 pieces of glass," he said. 
 
 He placed the hair between the small glass slabs which 
 Congreve secured and tied a piece of tape round them. 
 His lips were pressed together tightly. 
 
 " Does it strike you, Congreve," he said quietly, 
 " that if you're right and this is the suit that was worn 
 by the murderer it queers my theory? I was relying 
 on the thread of cloth I found to show that it was Ling. 
 Now this material isn't in the slightest respect like that. 
 
 [346]
 
 It means that we've got an entirely new angle to look 
 into." 
 
 " Yes, but " 
 
 " Never mind about anything else for the minute. 
 Take the coat round to Professor Harding's and make 
 sure that it is human blood. Before you do that 'phone 
 through to Mr. Fynne-Racton and ask him if he'll 
 oblige me by coming on here as quick as a motor can 
 bring him. Tell him to bring an instrument. It's very 
 urgent or I wouldn't trouble him." He opened the 
 breast pocket of the coat, wrote a few words on an 
 envelope and passed out, carrying the hair in its glass 
 shield. 
 
 He held a brief conversation with Foyle in the latter's 
 room and left the hair with him. Thence he walked to 
 the Home Office, from there took the tube to Kensington, 
 and thence returned to a certain tailoring firm in the 
 Strand. From the Strand he took a taxi to Buxton 
 Prison. 
 
 He had entirely forgotten his appointment with 
 Jimmie Hallett and that young man's reproachful face 
 peering out of the waiting-room was one of the first 
 sights that he encountered on his return to the Yard. 
 
 " Hullo, Hallett, old man. Sorry. Hope I haven't 
 kept you waiting long? " 
 
 " Only a matter of a couple of hours," said Jimmie. 
 " Don't apologise." 
 
 ** Lucky you're a man of leisure," grinned the de- 
 
 [347]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 tective. " Another ten minutes won't hurt." He swung 
 into the superintendent's room. 
 
 It was nearer another sixty than another ten minutes 
 before he emerged and carried the impatient Jimmie to 
 the electric cars opposite the Houses of Parliament. 
 " That's another good day's work done," he said thank- 
 fully. " I clean forgot all about you, Hallett, or I'd 
 have left a message. I've had a hundred things to think 
 about." 
 
 " And I," mourned Jimmie, " have only had one. By 
 the way, how is Miss Greye-Stratton? " 
 
 " As fit as could be expected, all things considered. 
 Ninety-nine girls out of a hundred who had gone through 
 what she has would have been knocked out. I told her 
 I should probably be bringing you home to dinner." 
 
 "Things been all right today? No hitches of any 
 kind?" 
 
 " One or two little points," admitted the chief in- 
 spector. " I'm expecting a telephone call when I get 
 home. Perhaps I'll tell you then." 
 
 They had the top of the car to themselves. Jimmie 
 laughed. " Still as cautious as ever. I'll begin to have 
 doubts soon whether you're as wise as you seem." 
 
 " I've begun to have doubts myself. We're none of 
 us infallible. If I was I should be on the Stock Ex- 
 change, not in the C. I. D." 
 
 Although Menzies lived in Magersfontein Road, 
 Upper Tooting, the dinner that had been arranged 
 
 [348]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 smacked little of the suburbs. Jimmie felt that he had 
 eaten many worse at Princes and Delmonico's. Perhaps 
 a difference was made by the slim black-clad figure that 
 sat opposite to him. Some of the melancholy had gone 
 from the blue eyes, though she was still sober and sub- 
 dued. Mrs. Menzies, discreet and tactful, watched her 
 closely, and Jimmie noticed that the conversation was 
 never allowed to flag. 
 
 " I don't know how many years we've been married, 
 Hallett," said Menzies reflectively, as he poured out a 
 glass of claret, " but this is the first time I've ever taken 
 my wife into my confidence on a professional subject 
 and the first time she's ever asked me." 
 
 Jimmie's eyes dwelt on the smiling, genial face of his 
 hostess. " Effect and cause," he murmured. " If Mrs. 
 Menzies ever wanted to know a thing you'd have to 
 capitulate." 
 
 " Don't you believe that, Mr. Hallett," interrupted 
 Mrs. Menzies. " He's like a bit of stone sometimes a 
 most aggravating man to get on with. Don't you ever 
 marry a detective, Miss Greye-Stratton." 
 
 " She won't," said Jimmie promptly, and watched the 
 rich flood of colour that surged into the girl's cheeks. 
 
 " One minute," said Menzies, standing. " Fill your 
 glasses. I'm going to propose a toast. Oh, da bless 
 the telephone." With an apology he hurried to the 
 instrument. 
 
 " Yes . . . yes. This is Menzies speaking. . . . That 
 [349]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 you, Mr. Foyle. Oh, yes, yes. ... I see, that clears 
 everything up. . . . Yes, I'll be along early in the morn- 
 ing. Good-night." 
 
 He returned to the dining-room. " To break an- 
 other professional rule," he said quietly, " I don't mind 
 telling you that my mind is perfectly at ease for the 
 first time since Mr. Greye-Stratton was killed." 
 
 [350]
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 JIMMIE presented a French roll sternly at Menzies, 
 pistol wise. 
 
 " You don't get away with it like that," he warned. 
 " Look at him. Cold-blooded isn't the word. He's got 
 a perfectly clear mind and he can sit down and eat and 
 drink in our presence as though we didn't matter." 
 
 The chief inspector brushed his moustache with his 
 serviette. " Plenty of time," he murmured. " Let's 
 have some coffee in my room, my dear." His eyes 
 twinkled at his wife. " I must try to satisfy this insa- 
 tiable young man, even if I get broken for betraying 
 official secrets." 
 
 " If you betray any secrets to Mr. Hallett you be- 
 tray them to us," assented Mrs. Menzies definitely. 
 
 " But, my dear " a series of humorous wrinkles 
 formed around the corners of his eyes " you know you 
 don't like smoke in the drawing-room. How can I 
 talk " 
 
 " Oh, very well." Mrs. Menzies spoke in laughing 
 resignation. " You may smoke there but not a pipe. 
 Mind, I totally forbid a pipe." 
 
 Menzies winked at Jimmie. " It shall be my very 
 Sunday best cigars," he said. " Come along." 
 
 In the drawing-room he took up his favourite posture 
 [351]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 with one arm on the mantelpiece and a foot on the 
 fender. He lit his cigar with deliberation and drew 
 silently at it for a second or two. 
 
 " You know pretty well as much as I do about this 
 business up to last night," he said to Jimmie. " If you 
 had to guess who would you say was the actual mur- 
 derer ? " 
 
 " Ling? " said Jimmie promptly. " Why, you told 
 us yourself " 
 
 " That's what comes of talking before a case is com- 
 plete," said the chief inspector oracularly. " If I'd 
 kept my mouth shut and said nothing you wouldn't have 
 been able to convict me in my own house of being a liar. 
 I was too quick with the cockadoodledo act, though," 
 he added quickly. " I was right in my main facts. 
 Ling is certainly a murderer legally all of the gang 
 are murderers, and I don't doubt that they'll all receive 
 the same punishment. But even so, there's something 
 more than an intellectual satisfaction in clearing up the 
 last fragments of doubt. Ling is not the murderer. He 
 was present in the house when the shot was fired, he 
 was the man who, posing as a doctor, knocked you out, 
 but the real assassin was Mr. William Smith otherwise, 
 Dago Sam." 
 
 " The gentleman who wanted to persuade me not to 
 say anything." 
 
 " That same gentleman. Funny, isn't it, that he 
 should have been under lock and key all this while and 
 [352]
 
 we never dreamt of considering him anything but a sub- 
 ordinate which in point of fact he is, although he killed 
 Greje-Stratton. 
 
 " In one way or another we've now got roughly the 
 life of the five persons involved in the conspiracy since 
 its inception in the brain of Gwennie Lyne. Pinkertons 
 and the New York police have helped us a lot on that. 
 I won't burden you with a lot of detail about that. Big 
 Rufe was brought into it by Gwennie because she didn't 
 want Ling to boss the show, and Rufe, though he's got 
 no brains, is a handy man in a row. Dago Sam was 
 the man who originally knew Errol and he seems to 
 have slid into the scheme because he wouldn't be left 
 out. 
 
 " Now about the murder. Mr. Greye-Stratton did 
 not seem in any hurry to die naturally and the gang of 
 course found expenses running up. There was every 
 probability that Errol was right and that he had left 
 his fortune to you, Miss Greye-Stratton, but there was 
 no certainty only Errol's word. Now Dago Sam 
 was an expert burglar. There wasn't one among them 
 who objected to the idea of making certain. Errol had 
 spoken of the safe. The chances were that if the old 
 man had made a will he would not have confided it to 
 Ills lawyers I am answering their line of argument 
 but would keep it in his own safe under his own eye. 
 If it was in Miss Greye-Stratton's favour, well and 
 good; if it was not the scheme was that it should be 
 [353]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 destroyed and a dummy substituted. Then she would 
 automatically inherit." 
 
 " Hold on a minute," interrupted Jimmie. " Is this 
 a hypothesis or ? " 
 
 " It's concrete fact. I'll tell you how we got at it 
 in a moment. Very well. Dago Sam was delegated to 
 do the burglary on the first convenient night. It so 
 happened that when the fog came down he decided that 
 his chance had arrived and set off without confiding in 
 anybody but Errol. That was the night, Miss Greye- 
 Stratton, that you got the cheques. 
 
 " After missing you in the fog Ling went on to the 
 Petit Savoy, where he met Errol, who spoke about Sam's 
 decision. Now Ling, it seems, wasn't quite certain that 
 Sam hadn't some game of his own to play. Crooks 
 rarely trust one another entirely and what must he 
 do but start off to Linstone Terrace Gardens himself to 
 keep an eye on things. He must have acted just on 
 general principles, because, unless by accident, he hadn't 
 a ghost's chance of getting into the house. You see, he's 
 no burglar. 
 
 " The accident happened. While he was kicking his 
 heels outside the door opened softly and old Greye- 
 Stratton, a pistol in his hand, looked out. To a man 
 of Ling's acuteness it was obvious what had happened. 
 He walked casually by and was, of course, stopped. 
 * There's a burglar in here,' says Greye-Stratton. ' Will 
 you fetch a constable ? ' ' It's not much of a night to 
 [354]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 find one,' said Ling. * I'll come in if you like. The two 
 of us ought to manage him.' 
 
 " They went in Ling taking the pistol and it 
 proves what his nerves were like putting up a play of 
 holding up Dago Sam, who was hiding behind a curtain. 
 * Bring him into the other room,' said the old man. 
 ' There's a telephone there. I can send for the 
 police.' 
 
 " That took them both aback for the minute. It is 
 to be supposed that the old man had not telephoned in 
 the first place because he was afraid the sound of his 
 voice might alarm the burglar. He crossed the dining- 
 room, leaving Ling to look after Sam, and that was 
 how it happened. Sam impulsively pulled the weapon 
 out of Ling's hand and fired. Possibly if Ling had 
 realised what was going to happen he would have 
 stopped it. However, he had no chance and he must 
 have realised instantly that now it was done he had to 
 sink or swim with Dago Sam. He took the revolver 
 away and put it in his pocket. Sam went round the 
 table to inspect the shot man. It was at that moment 
 that you, Mr. Hallett, knocked at the door. 
 
 " Now, whatever may be against Ling, he never 
 lacked courage or resource. Your knock must have 
 staggered the pair of 'em. It might simply be a casual 
 caller, though that was unlikely, seeing what sort of a 
 man Mr. Greye-Stratton was, or it might be someone 
 who had heard the shot. When your second knock came 
 [355]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 they had either to open the door or risk the possibility 
 of an alarm being raised. Ling had taken the precau- 
 tion to switch off the whole light when they came 
 through. He started for the front door. Sam quietly 
 called him back and passed him a small sandbag. He 
 had that spiel about being a doctor all ready to loose 
 out on you. If the caller had happened to be an ac- 
 quaintance of Greye-Stratton's it would explain what 
 he, a stranger, was doing there. You fell for it, were 
 lured inside and laid out and the cheques taken from 
 you. Then you were locked in. It occurred to Ling 
 that something might be traced home to them if any 
 trace of the forgery was left. That was why they 
 cleared out all those bankbooks and things. It only 
 seems to have occurred to them next day, after they had 
 had a sleep on it, that you might have seen Ling and be 
 able to recognise him again. So Dago Sam was put on 
 that fool idea of trying to terrify you." 
 
 He lifted a cup of coffee, took a sip and replaced it. 
 
 " It is an old truism that every criminal makes mis- 
 takes. So if you come to it does every detective. We're 
 all human. But there's this difference and it explains 
 why the world is not overrun with crooks. A detective's 
 mistake is not necessarily disastrous. He can retrieve 
 himself. A crook who is being hunted by the whole re- 
 sources of civilisation hasn't often much time to repair 
 an error, even if he knows he's made one. The shooting 
 of Greye-Stratton was an accident in a sense and look- 
 
 [356]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 ing back you will see how inevitable it was that at least 
 the main persons in the conspiracy should be brought 
 to justice and the personality of the man in charge of 
 the search scarcely mattered a button to the ultimate 
 result. It was merely a matter of common sense and 
 organisation. Every step is obvious. Here is Greye- 
 Stratton killed. Obvious first enquiry: Who and what 
 are his relatives and friends? That leads us to Errol 
 and Miss Greye-Stratton, and through them we get on 
 to Ling, and systematic enquiries about him would have 
 certainly resulted in the discovery of his accomplices. 
 It is one of those cases in which it was as certain as 
 sunrise that a corps of disciplined, intelligent men could 
 not be unsuccessful. We've had luck but that only 
 hastens things the end would have been just the same 
 now as in three months' time." 
 
 " It's perfectly simple as you expound it," said 
 Jimmie. " But you haven't told us how you got all 
 the detail which you have told us about the murder. 
 You aren't going to tell us you had a dictaphone 
 there?" 
 
 " Not much. That is one of my short cuts in which 
 I did the Sherlock Holmes act with the help of several 
 other people. Today for the first time we found out 
 where Dago Sam had been laying up." 
 
 "The opium joint?" 
 
 " Which will you have cigar or cocoanut ? " asked 
 Menzies smilingly. " Like Ling, he is fond of the pipe, 
 
 [357]
 
 and Sing Loo had found him a room. When that was 
 searched a blood-stained suit was found and I happened 
 to notice a hair when it was shown to me. Now, most 
 of the rest was plain sailing. There was the tailor's 
 name and date and a reference number on a label sewed 
 in one of the breast pockets. I went to the tailors' and 
 took their fitter down with me to Brixton Prison, where 
 we had Sam paraded with a dozen other men and picked 
 out as the customer who ordered that suit of clothes. 
 Meanwhile I had got a Home Office order for the exhu- 
 mation of Mr. Greye-Stratton's body. A piece of hair 
 was taken from the corpse and sent to the Yard, where 
 I had persuaded an expert microscopist to bring an in- 
 strument. Already one of the medical experts asso- 
 ciated with the Home Office has pronounced the stain on 
 the jacket to be human blood. Then when Fynne- 
 Racton declared that the hair of the murdered man 
 corresponded with the hair I had found I had the last 
 link. I got that result from Mr. Foyle over the tele- 
 phone just now." 
 
 " I can follow that all right," declared Jimmie, " but 
 where I go off the rails is how you fixed the respective 
 roles of Dago Sam and Ling. How'd you get at what 
 happened at the house? " 
 
 " That is where the human factor comes in. So long 
 
 as Sam thought the only case against him was a minor 
 
 one he was determined not to say a word. The fear of 
 
 being hanged is a wonderful incentive to secrecy. When 
 
 [358]
 
 THE MAELSTROM 
 
 he was stood up for identification today it was clear 
 to him that we were close up on the facts and it didn't 
 much matter what he said. He was rankling apparently 
 under the idea that his pals had deserted him when he 
 was arrested and he sent for the governor of the prison 
 and made a statement pretty well as I've told you ex- 
 cept that he asserted Ling fired the fatal shot. He was 
 a little confused about that part of it and on reflection 
 admitted that he himself snatched the revolver. It 
 doesn't matter a pin, anyway. They're both murderers. 
 The four of them will be brought up in court together 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 He emptied his cup and moved towards the door. 
 " And now if you'll excuse me I'll drop a line to the 
 vicar. He'll think I've been neglecting church affairs 
 lately and there's something I want to ask him about the 
 organ fund. Have you got a minute, my dear? " 
 
 Husband and wife went out together. 
 
 A prolonged fit of coughing heralded their return. 
 Peggy, scarlet-faced, was turning over some music on 
 the piano. Jimmie Hallett was lighting a cigarette. 
 He interpreted the twinkle in the chief inspector's eyes 
 and met the situation boldly. 
 
 " Menzies," he said, " do you happen to know how 
 long it takes to arrange an international marriage in 
 England?" 
 
 [359]
 
 Menzies produced a yellow-covered book from under 
 his arm. " I thought you might need Whitaker's Al- 
 manac," he chuckled. " Pure deduction, without any 
 fake. I told you I was your fairy godfather, didn't I ? " 
 
 THE END 
 
 [360]
 
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