‘No, Vivian was out when we found it. She has gone to a party. I was rather glad, you know. It seemed meant to tease her.’
Reggie folded the paper and put it in his pocket-book. His round face was pale and angry.
‘Oh, did you want to talk to her about it?’ Mrs Pemberton fluttered.
‘I don’t want anyone to talk to her about it.’
‘I’m so glad. Vivian is only six, you see, and—’
‘And nobody but Vivian has ever seen the little girl next door?’
‘Why no. I never thought of it like that. No, indeed. We didn’t know there was a little girl. Oh, but Mr Fortune, I’m sure there was if Vivian said so.’
‘Did Vivian notice what she was like?’
‘Poor child she was so distressed,’ Mrs Pemberton apologized for her. ‘She said it was a nasty, dirty little girl. Children will talk like that, you know, when they’re upset. It doesn’t mean anything.’
Reggie did not answer. He walked to the window. Mrs Pemberton’s garden was a pleasant place of crazy paving and rock plants. The little house next door had a bare, paved yard.
‘Oh, wouldn’t you like to go out?’ Mrs Pemberton cried. ‘I could show you just where the paper fell.’
‘No, I won’t go out.’ Reggie turned away. ‘Good-bye, Mrs Pemberton. Don’t let anyone talk to anybody. Don’t let anybody know who I am. Don’t let Vivian think about the business.’
‘Mr Fortune! You mean there’s something dreadful?’
‘The worst of it for Vivian is that she’s lost a kitten. There’s nothing else to trouble you.’
‘But you’re troubled about something.’
‘Yes, that’s what I’m for,’ said Mr Fortune. ‘Good-bye.’
It was an hour which Lomas is wont to give to his club. He was before the smoking-room fire, he was pronouncing the doom of the last new play, when Reggie looked round the door, caught his eye and vanished. Lomas went after him at leisure. He was in the hall, tapping an impatient foot. ‘My dear fellow, what’s the matter? Has the kitten had foul play?’
‘Come on,’ said Reggie.
Lomas came on with his usual studied jauntiness, to be thrust into a car and driven away at Reggie’s side. ‘Why this stealthy haste, Reginald?’ he protested. ‘Why thus abduct my blameless youth? Miserable man, where are you taking me?’
Mr Fortune was not amused. ‘We’re going to Avery’s damned police station,’ he said. He spread out on his knee the blue paper. ‘That’s why.’
‘Good gad!’ Lomas groaned. ‘A kitten! An infant’s effort at creating a kitten. Oh, my dear Reginald!’
‘Yes. An infant’s effort at creating a kitten,’ Reggie repeated. ‘Exactly that. That’s what frightened me. It was flung over into Mrs Pemberton’s garden this afternoon.’
‘Tut, tut. Not quite nice. Designed, I fear, to harrow the feelings of the bereaved.’
Reggie drew a long breath. ‘Do you mind not being funny?’ he said in a low voice. ‘I’m scared.’
‘My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow! What on earth for?’
‘For the child who made that.’ Reggie put it away again. ‘My God, don’t you feel it? There’s something devilish in that little house.’
Lomas was shaken. Strong language is very rare on the lips of Reggie Fortune. ‘I can’t say I feel anything,’ he said slowly. ‘What do you want to do?’
‘See Avery about the people. Here we are.’
Inspector Avery was still at the station. Inspector Avery showed no surprise at seeing them. ‘I told you to go home, young fellow,’ said Lomas.
‘Yes, sir. I know. I was a bit worried about that kitten case.’
‘Oh, you were, were you? Mr Fortune’s got it very bad.’
Avery’s keen face turned to Reggie. ‘About the little girl, sir?’ he said eagerly.
‘Yes, yes. What do you know about the little girl?’
‘Nobody knows anything. That’s just it. It don’t look right to my mind.’
‘No. It isn’t right,’ said Reggie. ‘Send two men to watch the house.’
‘I’ve put one there, sir.’
‘The deuce you have!’ Lomas exclaimed.
‘Good. But we’ll have two, please. One to follow if the child’s taken away. One to stand by whatever happens. The constable on the beat must keep in touch with them.’
‘Right, sir. Just a moment.’ Avery went out with visible satisfaction to give the orders.
‘You won’t mind me, will you?’ said the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department with some bitterness. ‘But aren’t you going rather fast, Fortune?’
‘No. We’re going far too slow.’
‘I can’t let you commit the police to anything, you know.’
‘I know. You like a crime finished before you begin. Mr Lomas, his theory of police work. Well, I’ve committed you to watching a suspected house. Ever heard of that being done before?’
Lomas, however, kept his temper. ‘You can have it watched, if it amuses you. But there’s no reasonable ground for suspicion.’
‘Oh my aunt!’ Reggie murmured.
Avery bustled in. ‘I’ve got that done, sir. Now is there anything else?’
‘Yes, I’m not satisfied there’s anything in it,’ said Lomas sharply. ‘What have you got against these people, Avery?’
‘Mr Lomas touches the spot,’ Reggie nodded. ‘Who are these people, Avery?’
‘Ah, that’s what I’d like to know,’ said Inspector Avery with relish. ‘Very retiring people, sir. Kind of secluded.’
‘Retiring be hanged,’ Lomas cried. ‘You’ve nothing against them but this stuff about a kitten and a girl.’
‘Pretty queer stuff, isn’t it, sir? Girl is seen taking a kitten, owner of the kitten is told nobody there saw it, we’re told the girl did see it, like I said. But there’s more to it than that. Nobody round there knew there was a little girl in that house, nobody’s ever seen her, nobody’s heard of her.’
‘Why should they?’
‘Ever lived next door to a house with a child, Lomas?’ said Reggie wearily. ‘You notice it. But Mrs Pemberton lives next door and she didn’t know there was a child in that house.’
‘Nobody knew. They won’t hardly believe it,’ said Avery.
‘How the deuce can you tell?’
Avery smiled. ‘The men get to know the servants in their beats, sir. I’ve had some inquiries made. That house, there’s Miss Cabot, handsome lady not so young as she was, and her father and an old married couple o’ servants very stand-offish. Been there a dozen years, living very quiet, never any guests and as for a child—well, the servants in Elector’s Gate laugh at it. If there is a child, they keep her in the cupboard, one of ’em said. But there is, Miss Cabot owned up to her.’
‘There was a child,’ said Reggie gravely, and took out the blue paper kitten.
Inspector Avery gasped at it. ‘Kind of uncanny, sir.’ He puzzled over it. ‘I don’t know what to make of it, sir.’
‘There was a child in that little house wanted to create a kitten. She only had packing paper, she only had a bit of coal to draw with, she had no scissors to cut it out. This was the best she could do. She wanted to tell that other child next door something about her kitten. She threw this over the wall.’
‘I don’t like it, sir.’
‘What’s it all come to?’ Lomas cried. ‘There’s a lonely child playing tricks.’
Reggie turned on him. ‘There’s a child in that little house living a queer life. And the only paper she can get hold of came off a parcel. It happened to be a parcel of scientific apparatus.’
‘Are you sure about that, sir?’ Avery cried eagerly.
‘This is the sort of stuff they always use for glass.’ Reggie fingered it. ‘Look at the scrap of a label: ‘ette & Co.’ Th
at’s Burette’s. First-class firm. What are the Cabots doing in that little house that they want glass from Burette’s and keep a child shut up and squalid and miserable?’
‘Squalid?’ Lomas took up the word.
‘The Pemberton child saw her. She was dirty.’
‘The house is kept as clean as a pin, they say,’ Avery frowned.
‘Yes. Quite clean. And the hidden child is nasty and dirty.’
‘And they’re at some scientific work. Do you think they’re doing experiments on the child, sir?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything. But I’m frightened.’
‘We’ve got ’em all right, whatever their game is,’ Avery said fiercely.
‘And the child?’ Reggie murmured.
Lomas stood up. ‘You win,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Reginald. My error. Well, I haven’t wasted much time. We’ll go through with it now. First points to work on, who are the Cabots and what is it that Burette’s send them? They’re to be watched wherever they go, Avery—and their servants. I’ll put Bell on to the case to-night. Report to him. We can deal with Burette’s in half an hour in the morning. Anything else, Reginald?’
‘Yes. You might find out if anybody lost a little girl some time ago.’
Lomas shrugged. ‘We can look up the records. Rather an off-chance, isn’t it? Whoever she is, they’d get hold of her quietly, these quiet people.’
‘Oh, it isn’t ordinary kidnapping,’ Reggie said wearily. ‘I say, Avery, for God’s sake don’t let the Cabots know they’re being watched. They might do the child in to-night.’
‘Good Lord, sir! No, I don’t think it. If they know they’re watched they’d know they couldn’t get away with a murder.’
‘We might not be able to prove murder. He’s a man of science, Mr Cabot is. Warn your men to be careful.’
‘We can’t have a search-warrant on this evidence,’ Lomas frowned. ‘We can’t do anything to-night. Begad, I’ll have somebody get into the house in the morning.’
‘Yes, I’m going,’ said Reggie.
‘My dear fellow!’
‘You want a doctor to see that child.’
That night lives in the memory of Mr Fortune. He could not sleep. It is a condition otherwise unknown to him. He drove early to Scotland Yard and found Superintendent Bell fresh and hearty from a night watch.
‘You’ve got something, Mr Fortune. They’re queer folk, these Cabots. Where do you think they went last night? Night club, if you please. The Doodah Club. Yes, the old man and the woman living in that quiet style, they go off to the Doodah which is about as hot as we’ve got. Well, as soon as I heard they were there, I sent round one of the night club experts. He knew the Cabots by sight right enough. They’re pretty regular at the Doodah. He made out that Cabot is known there as Smithson and runs some sort of an accountant’s business in Soho. Nothing on our books against him. But we’re looking into Smithson & Co., of course.’
‘Yes. Have you found anything about a lost child?’
Bell shook his head. ‘We’ve got no record of any to fit this little girl. Not many children get lost nowadays. I’m still looking about. But it’s a bit of a long shot, sir.’
‘I know. And Burette’s?’
‘Harland’s on that, sir. We’ll know all about their end of the business before lunch.’
‘Now who’s going with me to the house? I want some fellow with a nerve and lots of chat.’
Superintendent Bell looked at him with solicitude. ‘Are you set on going yourself, sir? If you don’t mind my saying so—’
‘I do,’ Reggie smiled.
‘Well, I knew you would,’ Bell sighed. ‘You can’t do better than Avery, sir. He’s a little bull-terrier.’
‘Yes. I thought that myself. But is he chatty?’
‘He can keep it up. He’s a politician.’
‘Oh my aunt!’ said Reggie.
Some time later two men in the uniform of the inspectors of the Metropolitan Water Board strolled into Elector’s Gate. A street sweeper asked one of them for a match and over his cigarette remarked: ‘All out but the woman servant. Cabot and Miss Cabot went off together. The manservant’s gone to the pub.’
The water inspectors strolled on. ‘That’s a bit of luck, sir,’ said Avery.
‘No. That’s Bell making a fuss down at Smithson & Co. I thought he would draw ’em. Your fellows said the manservant was in the pub till it closed. I thought he’d be on the doorstep when it opened—if master was out of the way. Now then. Lots of patter, please.’
Avery rang the tradesmen’s bell of the little house. After some minutes the side door opened to display a gaunt woman in black who scowled. Avery was sorry to trouble her, but they were going over the water fittings. She objected. Avery was very sorry, regular inspection, must go through with it, the law was the law. ‘Constable over there, mum, go and ask him if you like.’ They were admitted. ‘All the taps, please, then the run of the pipes, then the cistern. All fittings. Now then, where’s the main?’ He listened professionally. ‘Ah, I thought so. Just have a look at the scullery, mate. Now, mum, upstairs if you please.’ He swept her on before him, still talking about water and the law.
Reggie went into the kitchen, crossed to the scullery and turned on taps so that a noise of splashing water arose and came back to the kitchen. He called out, ‘Taps running, mate,’ and was answered: ‘Right-o! Stand by the main,’ and heard Avery in continuous eloquence and the servant grumbling. He went swiftly from room to room, such rooms as upholsterers furnish to their own taste, and saw no child’s gear nor any mark that a child would make. He could hear Avery moving about upstairs arguing about the lead of pipes and having doors opened. Avery was not missing anything. ‘Hallo, mate!’ Avery called. ‘Try the main tap. Now up to the cistern if you please, mum.’ Talking, he climbed.
Reggie stood in the hall. There was a cupboard under the stairs. He opened that, saw darkness and in darkness the gleam of eyes. He went in. ‘My dear,’ he said gently. ‘What’s your name?’
There was no answer but panting breath.
He switched on an electric torch and saw a little girl cowering in the corner. Her face was pinched and dirty, she seemed to have no body so she was huddled shrinking from him.
‘I’m friends,’ said Reggie and reached for her hand. ‘It’s all right.’ His fingers moved along the lean bare arm, about her neck. ‘Where’s the kitten?’
Her face shook. ‘It died. It did. It’s in the dust,’ she gasped.
‘I’m friends,’ Reggie said again. ‘Wait: just wait. It’s all right.’
He shut off the torch and slipped out of the cupboard. The feet of Avery were heavy on the stair.
‘I say, mate. Waste pipes at the back,’ Reggie called.
‘Have a look at ’em, Bill. Have a look at ’em,’ said Avery and held the gaunt woman in conversation in the hall.
Reggie went out to the paved yard. While he watched the scullery window his arm slid into the dustbin and brought out a bass basket. He buttoned that into his jacket and came back calling, ‘That’s all right, mate. Shall I shut off the taps?’
‘Shut ’em off, Bill. Come on. Good day, mum. Sorry to trouble you. Duty is duty.’
The gaunt woman grumbling about a lot of fuss and nonsense slammed the door on them.
A chauffeur came out of the bonnet of his car as they passed him. ‘Watch it. Watch it,’ Avery muttered and hurried on. It was hard work to keep up with Reggie.
He made for a post office and telling Avery to get a taxi shut himself into the telephone box. ‘Superintendent Bell? Fortune speaking. What have you got about the Cabots? Somebody interviewing them at the Smithson & Co. Office? Let him keep ’em busy. Child in the house in danger of foul play. Yes. Death. Instant danger. I want a search-warrant quick. Right. At my house.’ He joined Avery in the taxi and they drove
away.
‘No sign of the child, sir,’ Avery began. ‘But there was—’
‘I saw the child,’ said Reggie. ‘She’s still alive. I got the kitten too. He isn’t.’ The bass basket was produced and from it the stiff cold body of a Persian kitten.
‘Dead, eh? Looks all right too. Did it die natural, sir?’
Reggie pointed to the eyes. ‘No. Not natural. There isn’t much natural in that house.’ He shivered.
‘What did they want to kill it for?’
‘What do they want to keep the child in a dark cupboard for?’
‘Had her there when we came, I reckon.’
‘Yes. She’s out sometimes. But she’s used to the dark.’
‘The devils,’ said Avery heartily. ‘But what is the game, sir? Scientific experiments? There was a room I couldn’t get into. The woman said the master had the key. But I made out it had water laid on.’
‘Yes. Laboratories have.’ The taxi turned into Wimpole Street and stopped. ‘You go on to the Yard and see Bell. I’ve got to look into the kitten.’ But he went first to the telephone and talked to his hospital and asked for a certain nurse.
He was in his own clothes again, he was eating lunch without appetite when Bell came. ‘Got the warrant?’ He started up. ‘Good. Where are the Cabots?’
‘I couldn’t say for the moment, sir. Our fellows had orders to keep ’em talking as long as they could. But there wasn’t anything much to go on. That business looks all right. They do accountants’ work for the foreign restaurants.’
‘The man who died in Kensington Gardens,’ Reggie murmured.
‘Good Lord, sir!’ Bell stared. ‘He was in the restaurant trade, sure enough. And he was a drug fiend, you said.’
‘Come on, come on. I want to get back to that child before the Cabots.’
But as soon as the car was moving Bell returned to his point. ‘About the drugs, sir. What did you make of the house this morning? Avery said there was a room might be a laboratory. Burette’s say they’ve been supplying Mr Cabot with laboratory glass ware for years.’
‘Yes. I think we shall find a laboratory. The kitten has been drugged. The little girl has been drugged.’
Capital Crimes: London Mysteries Page 24
