The Bartenstein Case/Chapter 11
BOOK THE THIRD
The Veiled Woman of Primrose Hill
CHAPTER I
A MYSTERIOUS APPOINTMENT
In the course of his lengthy experience Inspector Dwayne had often been surprised, and it was one of his favourite axioms that it is only a fool who says that he is never surprised at anything. Inspector Dwayne was never surprised at being surprised; life, according to his philosophy, was so complex, intricate, and marvellous, that it was a great wonder in his opinion that more surprising things did not happen. But on this occasion he was rather more surprised than he desired to be, and the surprise was by no means an agreeable one.
What hand had done this? The cupboard was a strong one and fitted with a patent lock. A superficial examination showed the Inspector that it had been forced open by a single manipulation of a powerful jemmy, wrought, doubtless, of the finest steel. But how had the thief contrived to get into his room unobserved? Then he remembered that, on going to Bow Street, he had left the door unlocked, after his usual fashion, having forgotten that the room contained something of more value than usual. He cursed himself for his folly at that recollection and sat down to think.
With the exception of some of his own colleagues, there were only three persons in the world, he said to himself, who knew where he had placed that sword-stick. Those three were Lauderdale, Hasleton, and the Spaniard, Señor Olivares. It was quite impossible that Lauderdale could have got at it or have given any information about it, and he could scarcely believe that Hasleton, from what he had seen of him, would wish to repossess himself of it in that fashion. But what of the Spaniard? He had obviously been so desirious of securing it that he had asked for it. Could it be possible that he had contrived, during his, Inspector Dwayne's, absence at Bow Street, to enter the room and abstract the object about which there was so much mystery?
Inspector Dwayne left his desk and went off to make a cautious inquiry or two. The wing in which his labours were carried on was a quiet one; at its entrance was a custodian who was supposed to remember everything about everybody who went in and out. Him the Inspector approached.
"I've lost something out of my room, Wallis," he said. "You haven't seen any strangers about this morning, have you?"
"There's been very few people about at all this morning, Inspector," answered the man. "I've seen everybody that's come and gone."
"You haven't seen anybody carrying anything out?" asked the Inspector.
Wallis shook his head.
"The only person I've seen that carried anything," he answered, "was a young fellow that looked like a clerk, who asked for Inspector Mallet—said he'd got some plans for him—he had them in one of those long japanned tin cases. He went out again about ten minutes after."
"Carrying the jappaned tin case?" said Inspector Dwayne.
"Yes, sir," replied Wallis. "Like one of those things that architects carry plans in, you know."
"I know," said the Inspector. "All right, Wallis. And I'll lay all the world to a duck's egg he carried off my stick in it!" he muttered to himself bitterly, as he made his way back to Mallet's office, which was next to his own and situated round a corner of the corridor. "This is a plant, and that confounded Spaniard's at the back of it. Mallet," he continued, opening the door of his colleague's room and finding that gentleman alone, "have you had a visitor here this morning to show you some plans?"
"Plans?" repeated Mallet, obviously surprised. "What plans?"
"You haven't had a young man, looking like a clerk, and carrying one of those long, cylindrical, japanned tin cases that architects use for plans?" asked the Inspector.
Mr. Mallet shook his head wonderingly.
"I've never seen any young man with a japanned tin case," he said. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, never mind—it's all right," said Inspector Dwayne, feeling miserably conscious that it was all wrong. "I'll tell you later."
He went into his own office and sat down again, once more trying to account to himself for his loss. What did all this mystery about the sword-stick mean? Why was somebody or other taking all this trouble to possess himself, or themselves, of it? He could scarcely bring himself to believe that Señor Olivares really wished to obtain it for the mere sake of association, and he determined to find out a little more about that gentleman, whose address in the City was engraved on his card. For it seemed possible to Inspector Dwayne, on reconsidering these things, that the Spaniard might have come spying out the land, and bringing with him a ready-made and romantic story, all for the purpose of finding out where the sword-stick was, and how best to lay hands upon it. But why—why? What particular virtue was there about the thing?
He was struggling with these complexities. when word was brought to him that Miss Millicent Oxenham wished to see him on important business. Inspector Dwayne, who had already met Miss Oxenham at Bow Street, where she had been permitted to see Lieutenant Lauderdale, expressed his willingness to see her at once, and went to the door to meet her, secretly wondering what she had to tell him. When he had seen her that morning she had known nothing beyond the superficial facts of the case, and had been in a state of great concern about her lover's safety. Inspector Dwayne, who had endeavoured to reassure her, wondered now if she had brought him any news.
Miss Oxenham was not alone. There came into the Inspector's room with her a very youthful gentleman, attired in the very height of fashion, who wore a single eye-glass, out of which he appeared to gaze upon the world with an eye of child-like wonder. He might have been two-and-twenty, but appeared almost infantile, thanks to his small stature, his pink-and-white complexion, his light-coloured hair, and general aspect of juvenility. But Inspector Dwayne, who had an eye for faces, observed that although the little gentleman was a fop of the first water, and looked as if he was usually kept in a band-box or a glass case, he had a remarkably knowing air and a sharpness of eye which indicated that he was a long way off from being as innocent as the rest of him looked.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Dwayne," said Miss Oxenham. "I have come to see you because, since we met this morning, I have had a remarkable communication, presumably about this case, which I think you ought to know of. This is my cousin, Mr. Ronald Tyndale, who, as soon as he heard of this dreadful trouble, came to town to see if he could be of use to us."
"How de do?" said Mr. Tyndale affably, and inspecting the detective with great curiosity and interest. "Fine weather—what? Yes, I came to see if I could be of use, as my cousin says. Never know what you may be able to do, you know, eh?"
"Quite so, sir," replied Inspector Dwayne. "A little help is always useful. And what is it you have to tell me, Miss Oxenham?" he continued, turning to Millicent. "Anything important?"
"It may be, and it may not, Mr. Dwayne," she answered, drawing a paper from her pocket. "It is simply this. I was wearing a very plain coat and skirt this morning———"
"A dark-blue serge with no trimmings," interrupted the Inspector. "I observed it, miss, and considered it very neat."
"Well," said Millicent, with a smile, "when I changed it on reaching home, I found this paper in one of the coat pockets. It must have been placed there while I was in the court, or when I was coming out—there was rather a crush, you will remember."
"Yes, that would be an easy thing to do, miss," remarked the Inspector. "And it's some message, I suppose."
Millicent laid the paper, open, before him. The Inspector read aloud the few words written upon it.
If you wish to know something which will prove of great advantage to Mr. Lauderdale, and, therefore, to yourself, be at the sun-dial on Primrose Hill at precisely eight o'clock this evening. You will there meet a woman, heavily veiled, who will enter into conversation with you. There is nothing whatever for you to fear.
Inspector Dwayne read this over again—the second time to himself. He glanced at Miss Oxenham.
"Well, miss?" he said.
"Shall I go there, Mr. Dwayne?" she asked.
"I don't know why you shouldn't," he answered. "There is no very great privacy about the top of Primrose Hill on a summer evening at eight o'clock—plenty of people about."
"Supposing," said Mr. Tyndale, with great sapience, "supposing the mysterious lady wished to take my cousin off somewhere?"
"Then your cousin wouldn't consent to go, sir," replied the Inspector, smiling. "But I'll provide against anything of that sort. Of course, you know, Miss Oxenham," he continued, turning to Millicent, "this note may be all bunkum—don't build too high hopes on it. It may be written by a lunatic."
"A most unpleasant person to meet, Mr. Dwayne!" said Millicent. "I shouldn't like that.
"Ay, but again it may not," said the Inspector, "and you may hear something to the Lieutenant's advantage. There's always somebody who knows something about these affairs, and if you can learn a little, all the better."
"Then I will certainly go," said Millicent determinedly.
"Just wait a moment, then, and excuse me," said Inspector Dwayne.
He left the room, but returned presently with a young man and a young woman, who, having favoured Miss Oxenham with keen and comprehensive glances, which seemed to take her all in and to put her away somewhere for future reference, made a formal bow and retired. Inspector Dwayne resumed his seat.
"Now, when you reach Primrose Hill this evening, Miss Oxenham," he said, "those two young people will be there before you in the character of lovers, who, by the by, are very fond of that part—I used to go courting there myself a long time ago. Of course, you'll take no notice of them, and they won't seem to have the least interest in you, but they'll never lose sight of you while you're with the veiled lady. So you will be quite safe. And later on in the evening, say at ten o'clock, when you will be sure to have returned, I will call at Sussex Square and hear what you have to tell. I hope it may be something worth hearing."
He then attended Miss Oxenham and her cousin to the door, and in bidding them farewell gave her a final piece of advice.
"Now just remember this, Miss Oxenham," he said. "Say as little as you can yourself, and bear in mind all that's told you. It may be much—it may be little. We shall see."
When they had gone, Inspector Dwayne sought and found the highly glazed and beautifully engraved card of Señor Olivares, and going out he found a taxi-cab and betook himelf to the City and to the address which the card bore. It was in the neighbourhood of the Tower that he found the desired building—one evidently shared by several firms; and there, sure enough, on the board within the principal entrance, was the name of Olivares, Wine-Merchant, Oporto and London.
"That's right, so far," thought Inspector Dwayne. He climbed two flights of stairs and found the office he wanted; it was not an extensive place, and the room into which he stepped contained but one middle-aged clerk, to whom he explained his desire to see Señor Olivares. The clerk disappeared and reappeared, motioning the Inspector to enter an inner office. Inspector Dwayne obeyed—to find himself confronted by an elderly gentleman whom he had certainly never seen before in his life.