“Yes, he is.” Wyatt turned and saw Andrew and young Cortland. “I don’t believe you know Andrew’s friend, Benedict Cortland, Third, do you, Sergeant? This is my friend and right hand, Sergeant Tucker.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sergeant.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet any friend of Andrew’s,” said Tucker. “He gives us a lot of trouble, but we’re still glad to have him around.”
Wyatt looked at the note Tucker had given him again, then looked at Andrew and Cortland.
“Do the two of you have anything important planned for the rest of the morning?” he asked.
“No,” said Andrew. “Why?”
“If you haven’t, you might want to come and pay a visit with me.”
“To whom? Where?”
“Sir Arthur Barry at the Admiralty.”
10
The Admiralty Again
The same commissionaire was on duty at the Admiralty, and he must have remembered Wyatt, for though Wyatt did not have an appointment, he summoned a page and sent him up to Sir Arthur’s office with Wyatt’s card. The page came down almost immediately, saying that Sir Arthur would be happy to see the inspector, and led them back up to his office.
This time one of the clerks, a much younger man than Dixon, opened the door for them, and Sir Arthur himself came out to usher them into his office.
“Delighted to see you again, Inspector,” he said. “You too, Andrew. As for this young man here, you don’t have to tell me who he is. You’re young Cortland, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir Arthur.”
“I’d know you anywhere. You look remarkably like your father and also your grandfather, especially around the eyes.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m glad you realize that’s a compliment. Your father was a very striking-looking man. And your grandfather still is.”
“I think so too, sir.”
“I hope you didn’t mind our dropping in like this with no warning,” said Wyatt. “As a matter of fact, I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”
“Because of the Portsmouth meeting? I’m on my way there this afternoon. Dixon’s out getting together all the papers I’ll need to take with me.”
“How long will you be gone, sir?”
“Three or four days.”
“Then I’m glad we were able to catch you.”
“So am I. I’m delighted to have a chance to meet young Cortland, and I’m hoping you have some good news for me about his grandfather. How is he?” he asked Cortland.
“The doctor says he’s a bit better, and I must say he seems to be. As a matter of fact, we just came from the hospital and—”
“The hospital? Is that where he is now?”
“Yes,” said Wyatt. “St. Mary’s. You didn’t know that?”
“How on earth should I know it? When I last spoke to you, he was at home. I asked Dixon to get in touch with his doctor—Thurlow, wasn’t it?—and keep me informed on his condition. But since I haven’t heard anything, I assumed there was no change.”
“It’s not a major change, but as young Cortland indicated, it is for the better.”
“Well, I couldn’t be happier. When I get back from Portsmouth, I’ll go see him. I imagine he’ll still be there, won’t he?”
“I think so. One doesn’t get over the effects of as severe a stroke as he had very quickly.”
“I know that. Still, if anyone can, it’s Cortland. And now, will you excuse me? As I explained, I’m trying to get ready for my trip. And as soon as Dixon gets back with the material I’m waiting for, I’ll be off.”
“Of course,” said Wyatt. There were handshakes, good wishes all around, and they left.
Andrew glanced at Wyatt as they went down the stairs. He was not sure what the point of the visit had been. During their first visit to the Admiralty, Wyatt had told him not to say anything about Reeves and his suspicion that old Mr. Cortland was not suffering from a stroke. This time he had repeated his restrictions to include the mention of curare. But though Wyatt had not seemed to react to anything that was said, and his expression now was quite neutral, Andrew knew him well enough to sense that he had discovered something—something important—and that he was pleased.
“When I asked you before if you had anything planned for this morning,” said Wyatt, “you said you didn’t have. But you must have had something in mind.”
“We did say something to Mrs. Cortland about going boating on the Regent’s Park lake,” said Andrew. “But Cortland is very interested in the theatre and would very much like to attend a rehearsal, so we thought we’d go there.”
“Splendid idea! If you hadn’t suggested it, I would.”
“Why?”
“Because I have things to do now, but I want to talk to the two of you again later on—and also to Sara and perhaps your mother—and the theatre’s a fine, central place to meet.”
“All right,” said Andrew. “What time shall we expect you?”
Wyatt thought a moment.
“How about five o’clock?”
“Sounds fine. I’ll tell mother, and we can have tea together.”
“Good. See you then,” said Wyatt, and he went striding off along Whitehall toward Scotland Yard.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to be there then,” said Cortland.
“Why not?”
“You remember what my stepmother said. That I should be home in time for tea.”
“You also heard what the inspector said. That he wants to talk to you again. I think that that should take precedence over what your stepmother said.”
“I suppose you’re right. What do you think he wants to talk to us about?”
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling that it’s important. That things are coming to a head.”
11
Playing Blind
Andrew and Cortland went east, toward the Strand. It was now almost one o’clock, and they were both hungry; so they went into an oyster shop that had a luncheon bar, and each had a dozen oysters. They arrived at the theatre shortly after Sara and Verna returned from their lunch, but before the rehearsal actually started. This gave Andrew a chance to introduce Cortland to Verna. She had heard about him from Sara as well as Andrew and was very warm and gracious to him, introducing him in turn to Richards, the director, and getting his permission for Cortland as well as Andrew to watch the rehearsal.
The play was coming along nicely, and the rehearsal went smoothly with almost no interruptions. Cortland was impressed with Sara, who played her scenes with great style and had shaded her French accent so that—while it was still there—you could not miss anything she was saying.
The rehearsal ended at about five, and Andrew took Cortland backstage to Verna’s dressing room. She had arranged for tea to be sent in, and they had it there. Andrew was beginning to wonder where Wyatt was when Burke, the watchman, brought Verna a note. She frowned with surprise when she read it, said that there was someone she had to see and asked them to excuse her for a few minutes. They went into the dressing room that Sara shared with two other actresses, just across the corridor from Verna’s.
Either because Cortland had been told that his grandfather was better or because Wyatt had become involved in what was happening or both, he was more relaxed and animated than he had been since he and Andrew had come down from school. He asked Sara questions about the play and about the theatre—how the sets were changed, for instance—and she did her best to answer, until suddenly she paused in the middle of a sentence. She glanced at Andrew, but even if she hadn’t, he would have known why she hesitated. He had heard someone come down the corridor and go into Verna’s dressing room a few minutes before. Now suddenly he heard the voice of the person in there with her, and he knew, as apparently Sara had, that it was Wyatt.
Strange, he thought. Very strange. Why should Wyatt—who was much more their friend than Verna’s, and whom Andrew had originally interested in helping Cortland—why should he want to talk p
rivately to Verna? For it was clear now to Andrew now that the note Burke had brought in to her was from Wyatt.
Sara picked up where she had left off, finishing her explanation of how some scenery was lifted up on ropes to the grid overhead and some—the flats—were slid back and stacked in the wings. Cortland nodded and was about to ask her something else when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in if you’re fat,” said Sara.
The door opened, and Wyatt came in.
“Where did you get that one?” he asked.
“From Burke, the watchman. Why?”
“I just haven’t heard it since I went to school. May I sit?”
“Please do.”
He pulled a stool from under the dressing counter and sat down.
“We were expecting you for tea,” said Andrew. “Too bad you missed it.”
“I didn’t. Your mother gave me some.”
“Oh, good.”
At least, Andrew thought, he wasn’t making a secret of the fact that he’d been in there talking to her. Wyatt sat for a moment or two, looking at them without saying anything.
“Is anything wrong?” asked Sara finally.
“No. I’m just trying to make up my mind about something.”
“About what?” asked Andrew.
“Whether I can trust you or not. And when I say you, I don’t mean Cortland as much as I do you and Sara.”
“Well, thank you very much!” said Sara indignantly.
“Don’t sound so shirty. You know you’ve given me quite a few problems in the past.”
“Maybe we have, but we’ve also helped you.”
“I’ll grant you that. You have been helpful several times. As for the problems, you know why they came up? Because every once in a while you became convinced that you’re really much cleverer than I am—cleverer than all of Scotland Yard.”
“That’s not true!” said Sara.
“She means it’s not true that we think we’re cleverer than anyone else,” said Andrew. “But it is true that once or twice we’ve done things on our own without consulting you about them.”
“You admit that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if I involve you in something now, can I trust you to do exactly what I say? But exactly, not going an inch out of the way on your own?”
“Yes, of course,” said Sara.
“Do you really think you should answer that quickly? Don’t you want to think about it?”
“How can we think about it when we don’t know what it’s all about?” asked Andrew reasonably. Then, as Wyatt looked at him coldly, “Don’t you get shirty now. You must know that you can trust us, or you never would have raised this whole thing, whatever it is, in the first place. You just put it the way you did to make us realize it’s important. Well, we do. And we’d like to help in any way we can. And we promise to do exactly what you tell us to do, no more and no less. Does that satisfy you?”
“I’m not sure I like your manner, but … Yes. I think that satisfies me. Now tell me what you think it’s about?”
“That’s easy. It’s probably about Cortland here. And his grandfather, of course.”
“Well, well. A Daniel come to judgment. I never knew so young a body with so old a head.”
“You know my methods, Watson, as a certain well-known detective used to say. The question is: Am I right?”
“Of course you are. That brings us to Step Number One. As you probably gathered, I didn’t want young Cortland to go home this morning or this afternoon. I still don’t—and won’t for the foreseeable future. That means I want him to go home with you and stay there, at your house, until I think it’s safe for him to leave.”
“Well, of course that’s fine with me,” said Andrew.
“With us,” said Sara. “But don’t you think we ought to speak to Andrew’s mother about it?”
“I already have,” said Wyatt. “And she said she’d be delighted to have him stay for as long as I think it necessary.”
“That’s very kind,” said Cortland, a little taken aback. “But I don’t have any clothes with me. Shouldn’t I go home and get some?”
“Definitely not,” said Wyatt. “I’ve an idea that your stepmother will guess where you are—after all, you did go off with Andrew this morning—and come and try to get you. We’ll cover that in Step Two. But, in any case, I don’t want you going home. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now for Step Two. As I said, I’m quite sure that someone—Cortland’s stepmother or the butler or someone else—will come looking for Cortland. You can handle that in any way you like. You can either deny that he’s there or admit that he is and say that he doesn’t want to go home and you’re not going to make him. But under no circumstances is he to leave. Is that clear, too?”
All three of them nodded, Andrew and Sara noting that Cortland was a little pale and that his eyes were quite large.
“Now we come to Step Number Three—and this is where I don’t want any improvisations on your part. This is where I want you to do exactly what I say, so listen carefully. If things start to get sticky—and they very well may—then, no matter when it is, what time of the day or night, you are to come here to the theatre. You are not to go to Scotland Yard or a police station. You are to come here. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” said Sara. “Only what do you mean by things getting sticky?”
“I mean if things begin to look dangerous or threatening. If, for instance, it looks as if someone may try to break in and take Cortland by force.”
“All right,” said Sara. “When you say you want us to come here, do you mean all three of us?”
“No, Sara. I want you and Cortland to come here, but I want Andrew to do something else. Do you still have the card that Dixon gave you the first time we went to the Admiralty, Andrew? The one with his home address on it?”
“Yes,” said Andrew, taking it out of his pocket. “He told me to give it to Cortland, but I’m afraid I forgot.”
“That’s all right. Hold on to it. Now, as you know, Sir Arthur’s away, but Dixon’s here and told you that he’s available if you should need him. Well, if things get to a point where you’re coming here, then I think it’s important that he be here, too. There’s no need to say I suggested it. It might be better for everyone concerned if he thought it was all your idea; but go to his house if it’s at night and bring him here. Now, any questions?”
They were silent for a moment, looking thoughtfully at one another.
“Yes,” said Sara. “Suppose things do get sticky, as you say they might, and we have to do a bunk and come here. Do you want us to do it on the sly, slip away without anyone knowing it, or do you want whoever’s around to follow us?”
“A good question, Sara. If you can do it naturally and convincingly—and above all safely—I wouldn’t mind having anyone who might be around follow you.”
“All right. We’ll think of some way of doing it.”
“Any other questions?” He glanced at each of them in turn, and, when each had shaken his head, “On your way, then.”
Wyatt opened the door, and they followed him out into the corridor. Andrew had been learning a new kind of whist at school called bridge. It was like whist except that at a certain point one of the players laid down his hand, which was then played by his partner. He had a feeling that something similar was taking place here. A game of some sort was going on—a very important one to judge by the tension he felt in Wyatt. But though he, Sara and Cortland were in it, they were not going to be doing the actual playing. They might even, in fact, be played.
As he closed the door, the door of Verna’s dressing room opened and she came out. She had on her jacket, her hat and gloves and was apparently ready to leave also.
“Hello,” she said brightly—a little too brightly, Andrew thought. “Everything settled?”
“I think so,” said Andrew. “Peter said you said it was all right for Cortland to come hom
e with us and stay for a while.”
“Of course it’s all right. We’re delighted to have you,” she said, smiling at Cortland.
“Thank you very much,” he said politely.
Looking at her more closely, Andrew saw that she was trying very hard to appear relaxed and at ease when she wasn’t. That meant that, if she wasn’t in the game that was being played, she was aware of it.
“Are you going home now, too?” he asked.
“No, dear. I have an engagement. I’m not sure what time I’ll be home, but don’t worry about it. Fred’s taking me and will call for me, so please tell Mrs. Wiggins that I won’t be there for dinner. Now how are the three of you going home?”
“Probably take a bus.”
“I’d rather you took a cab. Here.” She dropped some coins into Andrew’s pocket. “Goodbye,” she said and hurried up the corridor. They heard her greet someone, then the stage door opened and closed. A moment later Tucker appeared.
“Greetings,” he said with an all-inclusive nod. “I won’t say good afternoon because I’m not sure it is.”
“All right,” said Wyatt. “What is it?”
“I gather you’ve not seen the afternoon papers yet,” he said, taking one from his pocket, unfolding it and handing it to him.
Wyatt ran his eye down the first page, paused at the bottom and swore softly to himself.
“What is it?” asked Sara.
“We had another neat little bit of dipping last night,” said Tucker. “That’s pickpocketing,” he explained to Cortland. “The bloke that was dipped was a French banker with plenty in his purse. At least, so he claimed when he reported it at the police station. He was mad as a wet hen, according to the sergeant, claiming that something like that could never happen in Paris. And what’s he done but say the same thing to the press. What we need, according to him, is to have the French Sûreté come over here and teach us how to catch our thieves.”
“The commissioner’s going to like that,” said Andrew.
“Not half, he will!”
“Yes, we really needed that,” said Wyatt. “Still …” He shrugged, then looked at the three young people. “You’ve got your instructions,” he said. “Off you go.”
The Case of the Frightened Friend (Andrew Tillet, Sara Wiggins & Inspector Wyatt Book 6) Page 8
