by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER IV
MADEMOISELLE DORIAN
The telephone bell rang.
Stuart reached across for the instrument and raised the receiver."Yes," he said--"Dr. Stuart speaking. Inspector Dunbar is here. Holdon."
He passed the instrument to Dunbar, who had stood up on hearing hisname mentioned. "Sergeant Sowerby at Scotland Yard wishes to speakto you, Inspector."
"Hullo," said Dunbar--"that you, Sowerby. Yes--but I arrived hereonly a short time ago. What's that?--Max? Good God! what does it allmean! Are you sure of the number--49685? Poor chap--he should haveworked with us instead of going off alone like that. But he wasalways given to that sort of thing. Wait for me. I'll be with you ina few minutes. I can get a taxi. And, Sowerby--listen! It's 'TheScorpion' case right enough. That bit of gold found on the dead manis not a cactus stem; it's a scorpion's tail!"
He put down the telephone and turned to Stuart, who had been listeningto the words with growing concern. Dunbar struck his open palm downon to the table with a violent gesture.
"We have been asleep!" he exclaimed. "Gaston Max of the Paris Servicehas been at work in London for a month, and we didn't know it!"
"Gaston Max!" cried Start--"then it must be a big case indeed."
As a student of criminology the name of the celebrated Frenchman wasfamiliar to him as that of the foremost criminal investigator inEurope, and he found himself staring at the fragment of gold with a newand keener interest.
"Poor chap," continued Dunbar--"it was his last. The body brought infrom Hanover Hole has been identified as his."
"What! it is the body of Gaston Max!"
"Paris has just wired that Max's reports ceased over a week ago. Hewas working on the case of Sir Frank Narcombe, it seems, and I neverknew! But I predicted a long time ago that Max would play thelone-hand game once too often. They sent particulars. Theidentification disk is his. Oh! there's no doubt about it,unfortunately. The dead man's face is unrecognizable, but it's notlikely there are two disks of that sort bearing the initials G.M. andthe number 49685. I'm going along now. Should you care to come,doctor?"
"I am expecting a patient, Inspector," replied Stuart--"er--a specialcase. But I hope you will keep me in touch with this affair?"
"Well, I shouldn't have suggested your coming to the Yard if I hadn'twanted to do that. As a matter of fact, this scorpion job seems toresolve itself into a case of elaborate assassination by means ofsome unknown poison; and although I should have come to see you inany event, because you have helped me more than once, I came to-nightat the suggestion of the Commissioner. He instructed me to retainyour services if they were available."
"I am honoured," replied Stuart. "But after all, Inspector, I ammerely an ordinary suburban practitioner. My reputation has yet tobe made. What's the matter with Halesowen of Upper Wimpole Street?He's the big man."
"And if Sir Frank Narcombe was really poisoned--as Paris seems tothink he was--he's also a big fool." retorted Dunbar bluntly. "Heagreed that death was due to heart trouble."
"I know he did; unsuspected ulcerative endocarditis. Perhaps he wasright."
"If he was right," said Dunbar, taking up the piece of gold from thetable, "what was Gaston Max doing with this thing in his possession?"
"There may be no earthly connection between Max's inquiries and thedeath of Sir Frank."
"On the other hand--there may! Leaving Dr. Halesowen out of thequestion, are you open to act as expert adviser in this case?"
"Certainly; delighted."
"Your fee is your own affair, doctor. I will communicate with youlater, if you wish, or call again in the morning."
Dunbar wrapped up the scorpion's tail in the piece of tissue paperand was about to replace it in his note-case. Then:
"I'll leave this with you, doctor," he said. "I know it will be safeenough, and you might like to examine it at greater leisure."
"Very well," replied Stuart. "Some of the engraving is very minute.I will have a look at it through a glass later."
He took the fragment from Dunbar, who had again unwrapped it, and,opening a drawer of the writing-table in which he kept his cheque-bookand some few other personal valuables, he placed the curious piece ofgold-work within and relocked the drawer.
"I will walk as far as the cab-rank with you," he said, findinghimself to be possessed of a spirit of unrest. Whereupon the two wentout of the room, Stuart extinguishing the lamps as he came to thedoor.
They had not left the study for more than two minutes ere a car drewup outside the house, and Mrs. M'Gregor ushered a lady into the roombut lately quitted by Stuart and Dunbar, turning up the lights as sheentered.
"The doctor has gone out but just now, Miss Dorian," she said stiffly."I am sorry that ye are so unfortunate in your veesits. But I knowhe'll be no more than a few minutes."
The girl addressed was of a type fully to account for the misgivingsof the shrewd old Scotswoman. She had the slim beauty of the Eastallied to the elegance of the West. Her features, whilst cast in acharming European mould, at the same time suggested in some subtleway the Oriental. She had the long, almond-shaped eyes of the Egyptian,and her hair, which she wore unconventionally in a picturesquefashion reminiscent of the _harem_, was inclined to be "fuzzy," butgleamed with coppery tints where the light touched its waves.
She wore a cloak of purple velvet having a hooded collar of white foxfur; it fastened with golden cords. Beneath it was a white and goldrobe, cut with classic simplicity of line and confined at the waistby an ornate Eastern girdle. White stockings and dull gold shoesexhibited to advantage her charming little feet and slim ankles, and she carried a handbag of Indian beadwork. Mlle. Dorian was a figurecalculated to fire the imagination of any man and to linger long andsweetly in the memory.
Mrs. M'Gregor, palpably ill at ease, conducted her to an armchair.
"You are very good," said the visitor, speaking with a certainhesitancy and with a slight accent most musical and fascinating."I wait a while if I may."
"Dear, dear," muttered Mrs. M'Gregor, beginning to poke the fire, "hehas let the fire down, of course! Is it out? No ... I see a weesparkie!"
She set the poker upright before the nearly extinguished fire andturned triumphantly to Mlle. Dorian, who was watching her with aslight smile.
"That will be a comforting blaze in a few minutes, Miss Dorian," shesaid, and went towards the door.
"If you please," called the girl, detaining her--"do you permit me tospeak on the telephone a moment? As Dr. Stuart is not at home, I mustexplain that I wait for him."
"Certainly, Miss Dorian," replied Mrs. M'Gregor; "use the telephoneby all means. But I think the doctor will be back any moment now."
"Thank you so much."
Mrs. M'Gregor went out, not without a final backward glance at theelegant figure in the armchair. Mlle. Dorian was seated, her chinresting in her hand and her elbow upon the arm of the chair, gazinginto the smoke arising from the nearly extinguished ember of the fire.The door closed, and Mrs. M'Gregor's footsteps could be heard recedingalong the corridor.
Mlle. Dorian sprang from the chair and took out of her handbag anumber of small keys attached to a ring. Furtively she crossed theroom, all the time listening intently, and cast her cloak over theback of the chair which was placed before the writing-table. Her robeof white and gold clung to her shapely figure as she bent over thetable and tried three of the keys in the lock of the drawer whichcontained Stuart's cheque-book and in which he had recently placedthe mysterious gold ornament. The third key fitted the lock, and Mlle.Dorian pulled open the drawer. She discovered first the cheque-bookand next a private account-book; then from under the latter she drewout a foolscap envelope sealed with red wax and bearing, in Stuart'shandwriting, the address:
Lost Property Office, Metropolitan Police, New Scotland Yard, S. W. I.
She uttered a subdued exclamation; then, as a spark of light gleamedwithin the open drawer, she gazed as if stupefied at the littleornament which she had suddenly per
ceived lying near the cheque-book.She picked it up and stared at it aghast. A moment she hesitated;then, laying down the fragment of gold and also the long envelope uponthe table, she took up the telephone. Keeping her eyes fixed upon theclosed door of the study, she asked for the number East 89512, andwhilst she waited for the connection continued that nervous watchingand listening. Suddenly she began to speak, in a low voice.
"Yes! ... Miska speaks. Listen! One of the new keys--it fits. I havethe envelope. But, also in the same drawer, I find a part of a brokengold _'agrab_ (scorpion). Yes, it is broken. It must be they find it,on him." Her manner grew more and more agitated. "Shall I bring it?The envelope it is very large. I do not know if----"
From somewhere outside the house came a low, wailing cry--a cry whichStuart, if he had heard it, must have recognized to be identical withthat which he had heard in the night--but which he had forgotten torecord in his written account.
"Ah!" whispered the girl--"there is the signal! It is the doctor whoreturns." She listened eagerly, fearfully, to the voice which spokeover the wires. "Yes--yes!"
Always glancing toward the door, she put down the instrument, tookup the long envelope and paused for a moment, thinking that she hadheard the sound of approaching footsteps. She exhibited signs ofnervous indecision, tried to thrust the envelope into her little bagand realized that even folded it would not fit so as to escapeobservation. She ran across to the grate and dropped the envelopeupon the smouldering fire. As she did so, the nicely balanced pokerfell with a clatter upon the tiled hearth.
She started wildly, ran back to the table, took up the broken ornamentand was about to thrust it into the open drawer, when the study doorwas flung open and Stuart came in.
