“Implicitly.”
“So you blamed someone for tampering with it; for altering it so as to make a fool of you.”
“Good for you, Mr. Harrison,” said a journalist. “That’s exactly what he did. Made an awful scene.”
“He even blamed me,” said the Baron who appeared to think it was time he interposed in the conversation.
“That’s interesting,” said Harrison. “Why?”
“Well, he was sitting opposite to me,” said Hawker. “And, although I cannot imagine him doing a futile thing like that, I’m afraid I lost my temper a bit. I did apologise, didn’t I?”
The Baron nodded and Harrison continued. “But I can’t understand how anybody could have touched the said clock if you were sitting there all the time. By the way, you were sitting there all the time, weren’t you?”
“Well, they were putting messages up on the board from time to time,” answered Hawker. “And I got up to see what they were.”
“And nobody asked you the time or anything like that, during the morning?” asked Harrison.
“I say, what on earth are you driving at, Mr. Harrison?” cried Crill.
“Don’t stop him,” said another journalist.
“I see,” said Hawker, with some excitement. “It wasn’t so foolish of me, after all. Somebody might have tampered with it, then?”
“You have had it examined since, of course?” continued Harrison.
“Yes, the watchmaker says there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“One more question,” said Harrison. “I suppose all sorts of people were in and out of the Press room during the morning.”
“Oh yes,” answered Hawker.
“Very well,” said Harrison. “Here we have a perfectly good Swiss clock—world famous for accuracy—which loses a quarter of an hour for no apparent reason. It has never done so before and, as far as we know, is not likely to do so again. Therefore it is an unusual circumstance and, if we accept the law of probabilities, not a probable way for a watch to behave. We must not dismiss from our minds the possibility of such a unique event but we must take other factors into account. Mr. Hawker left his desk occasionally to look at the notice board. There was also opportunity for any number of people to move the hands of the clock back a quarter of an hour, had they felt so disposed. So my advice is, Mr. Hawker, think over in your mind anybody who has designs on upsetting your domestic happiness and knows your habits pretty well—possibly someone who resented not being invited to lunch on Monday—and you have the criminal.”
Hawker and the rest laughed while one of them confessed that Harrison had almost been able to make a thrilling story out of a trivial episode, although the suggested criminal was indeed an anti-climax.
“I did not think it needed farce, Mr. Harrison,” said the Baron, “to show us how you exercised your powers of deduction.”
“You asked me for an illustration of my method,” said Harrison. “It would have been too dangerous to try and make anything serious out of Mr. Hawker’s mishap. Why, you all nearly believed me, as it was, until the curtain fell on a laugh. Be honest, gentlemen, didn’t you?”
There was a chorus of agreement and a general leave-taking followed. Harrison warmly thanked them for giving up their time to him, especially Crill, whose look in return showed that he completely understood. The Baron was the last to go and he made a final reference to Harrison’s queer sense of humour before leaving.
Harrison turned to Henry, as the Baron left. “Did you hear it all?” he asked.
“I did, sir,” replied Henry. “But I don’t claim to follow it.”
“Warmer and warmer,” said Harrison. “Crill’s a great fellow.”
“But why all the bother about that man’s clock?” asked Henry.
“He is a great fellow,” continued Harrison, ignoring Henry’s question. “He even pulled me up when I was going too quickly. Wonderful, Henry, wonderful. Now let’s find Dawnay.”
Henry, as often happened, gave up worrying until such time as Harrison should think fit to give him a clue and the two made for the entrance of the hotel. There, to their surprise, they found Dawnay deep in conversation with Jeanne de Marplay. “There’s a shock for you, Henry,” said Harrison.
“That woman,” groaned Henry. “I believe she lives round the corner.”
“Explain yourself, Henry.”
“Well, she always seems to be round the corner, sir, wherever we go.”
“A very good description of her, Henry, and we have to be careful how we go round the corners, haven’t we?”
“Mightily careful,” said Henry.
Dawnay, however, was not so absorbed that he did not notice Harrison’s entry and, after waiting for a moment for Harrison to come up to him, he said farewell to the lady who turned the most lustrous eyes upon him and seemed somewhat disappointed that Harrison had not joined them. She also contrived to give Harrison a brilliant look, implying the most affectionate friendship and left Harrison, who, after all, had a man’s natural appreciation of feminine charms, with the uncomfortable feeling that a relaxation of his pursuit of the job in hand would be rewarded by Miss de Marplay to the utmost of her very fascinating ability.
“A very charming woman,” said Dawnay, coming across.
“Frightfully fascinating,” replied Harrison. “What were you talking about?”
“You,” said Dawnay.
“Me,” exclaimed Harrison. “A bad subject.”
“I was very discreet,” said Dawnay.
“You need to be,” answered Harrison. “But why discuss me?”
“Miss de Marplay insisted on talking about you.”
“She would,” commented Harrison.
“She said she had a terrific admiration for you,” said Dawnay. “You were one of the greatest detectives in the world.”
“Very kind of her,” answered Harrison. “And what did you say? That’s the most important thing.”
“Nothing,” said Dawnay. “I spent most of my time agreeing with her.”
“Don’t think I am being critical, Dawnay,” said Harrison. “I know she’s charming and one can’t help being attracted to her.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as that. She is decidedly good-looking, of course.”
“She is, Dawnay,” said Harrison, solemnly. “And I think the fewer conversations with Miss de Marplay—even about my overpowering virtues—the better, at the moment.”
“Oh, very well,” answered Dawnay, somewhat ungraciously.
“Come, come, Dawnay,” said Harrison, putting his hand on his shoulder. “We’re on very important business, aren’t we, and you must trust me. Come along to lunch.”
Dawnay smiled and they went upstairs to the dining-room where they found a convenient table in a corner. As soon as the selection of food was settled and all the suggestions of the waiter complied with, Harrison said: “A very important thing has happened this morning, Dawnay.”
“Since I left you?” asked Dawnay.
“Yes,” replied Harrison. “I am practically certain we know who we are looking for.”
“Good, and who is it?”
“The Baron.”
“But you’ve suggested that, all along.”
“I said ‘I am practically certain.’”
“No one will believe it, Harrison.”
“The Baron personally had a hand in Twining’s disappearance.”
“You’re practically certain of that?”
“Just a moment,” said Harrison. “Look across the room and see who has just come in.”
“It’s the Baron and Miss de Marplay,” answered Dawnay.
“My warning about the lady was justified, you see.”
“Of course it was, if you are right about the Baron. But, as I said, no one will believe you. He’s too popular. You’d need the strongest proofs and then people would be sceptical.”
“I don’t care what people think,” said Harrison. “It’s the facts that matter to me.”
“What are they?” asked Dawnay.
“When a man tries to establish a somewhat unnecessary alibi, and rather clumsily at that, one is entitled to be suspicious.”
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand,” replied Dawnay.
“It’s like this,” said Harrison. “When I saw Crill in the boat yesterday I asked him to find out if anything interesting or unusual, in fact, if anything at all happened to a journalist or anybody else on Monday. Twining disappeared on Monday and anything, however small, happening at the League office on that day, must be important—at any rate, must be carefully studied. Especially if it was connected with the journalists. You realise that I want any clue of any kind that might lead towards the Baron. And, by jove, I got far more than I expected. Crill is a clever fellow and he must have thought it over pretty carefully for he raked up from his memory the dramatic story of Mr. Hawker’s clock.”
“Sounds queer,” said Dawnay.
“It is queer,” replied Harrison. “Mr. Hawker is an American journalist who works with a pet Swiss travelling clock in front of him. A pearl of a clock, Dawnay, which never goes wrong. Behaves itself with the most remarkable regularity. At any rate, it did, until Monday morning and then, unaccountably, it lost a quarter of an hour.”
“Not very remarkable, really, Harrison,” said Dawnay.
“Not with some clocks, Dawnay, but with Mr. Hawker’s clock, quite unaccountable. So much so that Mr. Hawker’s passionately accused someone of tampering with it. And considering that the Baron was sitting opposite to him—”
“Good Lord, Harrison,” said Dawnay. “You don’t mean—”
“Just a minute,” said Harrison, “Don’t let’s hurry. Hawker says he got up occasionally to look at notices in another part of the room. There was the opportunity for anybody to alter the clock if they particularly wanted to. It could have been a practical joke, although, I must say, it would have been a very silly one, but it might have been intended seriously. Suppose someone wanted to fix a time when they wished it known they had been in the room while really being out of it, what simpler way?”
“The Baron—”
“Precisely. Suppose the Baron had been out of the room on some particularly urgent, and let us say hazardous, business. Something he must not be connected with by other people. Something like the removal of Twining, for example. What better way of fixing an alibi than to alter the famous clock while Mr. Hawker was looking at one of his notices and then come back and ask Mr. Hawker the time?”
“And you found all that out?”
“I don’t know whether he asked Hawker the time but I’m morally certain he did. Crill stopped me from doing that. Very wise of him. Of course, the Baron knew what I was up to but Crill saved me from letting the rest of the world know.”
“Remarkable,” said Dawnay. “But what was the Baron doing?”
“I’ve no idea at present,” answered Harrison. “Something rather dangerous to himself, and, as it was at that time in the morning, obviously something connected with Twining. Something so dangerous that, if anything went wrong, he must have an alibi.”
“It doesn’t carry you very far,” said Dawnay.
“It’s the first real step,” said Harrison. “We’re beginning to know where we are. It wouldn’t have been such a bad alibi if the Baron, although I suppose he did it intentionally, hadn’t chosen the very clock in Geneva which never makes mistakes—or, at any rate, Hawker thinks it doesn’t. Now it must seem a very clumsy affair and I expect the Baron’s very sorry he tried it.”
“But you say the Baron knows all about it?”
“It’s almost impossible to avoid the Baron knowing anything in Geneva,” said Harrison. “And I’m afraid Crill would not have had it otherwise, I’m certain he wanted to watch the Baron—like Hamlet and his uncle. He doesn’t like the Baron, you know.”
Harrison settled down to eat his lunch with solid satisfaction, intensified by the knowledge that the eyes of the Baron and de Marplay were continually upon him.
“The only trouble is, Dawnay,” he continued, after a while. “He must be a bit worried now. He knows a certain amount I have spotted and he may be wondering how much more I know. We’ve got to work pretty quickly or we shall be too late. Very quickly indeed—but there’s one thing, we know a bit more where to look.”
“What can I do?” asked Dawnay.
“Not much at the moment,” replied Harrison. “But I shall want you this evening. And I expect I shall want the run of your flat, too. Will that be all right?”
“Of course,” answered Dawnay.
“I won’t swear to it,” said Harrison. “But I shouldn’t be surprised if a great deal happens in your flat this evening.”
Chapter XIV
Dr. Kellerman
“Our researches, Henry,” said Harrison, lighting a cigar after lunch, “must now lead us to 27, Rue des Roses.”
“Dr. Kellerman,” said Henry.
“Exactly,” answered Harrison. “Dr. Kellerman may be the pivot of our whole investigation. In fact, so much so, Henry, that I am wondering whether I can keep myself quiet enjoying this perfectly good cigar while I am seething inside with excitement to know where this is going to lead.”
“You’ve never looked cooler in your life, sir, if I may say so,” commented Henry.
“Sheer play-acting, Henry,” was the reply. “I control my feelings but it is only with an effort.”
“All of which I should respectfully say was humbug, sir,” said Henry.
“Henry—” expostulated Harrison.
“I’m sorry, sir, possibly I said something I shouldn’t,” answered Henry, apologetically. “But I’ve been in other much more exciting cases with you and I’ve never seen you turn a hair.”
“I might have exaggerated a bit, Henry,” said Harrison, with a laugh, “but I was trying to live up to the traditions of the calling of a detective. Still, it is a bit exciting, Henry, when one comes to a point which may possibly provide the solution of the whole question. The enemy is rattled and if I can find that one point which may be vulnerable—well, Henry, I win, that’s all.”
“But you haven’t told me why you are so convinced the enemy is rattled.”
“Surely, Henry, you heard the story of Hawker’s clock this morning?”
“I did, sir,” answered Henry. “And if that is journalistic sense of humour, I can’t say much for it.”
“It wasn’t really sense of humour,” said Harrison. “It was mainly dead earnest. Crill arranged it and the Baron understood it.”
“I’m afraid I don’t quite see it, sir,” said Henry.
“Well, I’m not going into all the details now,” answered Harrison. “But the Baron has given himself away to such an extent that his movements are extremely suspicious at the very time Twining disappeared.”
“Good lord,” said Henry.
“It is good lord,” answered Harrison. “And there’s some trail—I must use these detective words sometimes, Henry, begging your pardon all the same—in this town at this moment which leads direct to the Baron. I’m certain of it. That’s why the enemy’s rattled. I seem to be getting too uncomfortably close to it.”
“And that woman?” asked Henry.
“I can’t quite place her yet,” replied Harrison. “I have one or two vague ideas but they are so vague they’re not even worth discussing. Of course, she’s mixed up in it somehow but she may only be a spy.”
“That’s true,” assented Henry.
“But she seems mightily keen on fascinating me, Henry, which makes me think there’s something more in it than that. It is a very hard life, Henry. Here we have a most remarkably charming woman, I must admit I’m very attracted to her—” Henry grunted—“You may disapprove, Henry, but you may be stronger-minded than I am because you resolutely refuse to see anything in her at all. But I frankly confess that I am attracted. She has more in her than the average woman, the ones we are always meeting, Henry, and yet I have to stick
to my duty and resolutely forget that life has its romantic side.”
“You may be trying to pull my leg, sir,” said Henry “But I must say—”
“You needn’t say it, Henry, because I’m not doing anything of the kind. She is extraordinarily attractive, alluring and all the rest of it. It’s as much as I can do not to fall for her.”
“I hope you’ll be very careful, sir,” said Henry, solemnly.
“Of course I will,” answered Harrison. “I think it must really be her daring appeals to me so much. She puts her head in the lion’s mouth for the sheer joy of seeing whether it will be bitten off or not. It isn’t only courage, it’s the pleasure of living dangerously. And she loves playing with fire. Look at the way she hinted at the truth on the way here. She scorned to invent lies and concealments. She juggled with the truth, very perilously, and then hoped her native wit would get her through. She has given us hints and clues just for fun but I don’t think she has produced a red herring. That’s character, Henry, and one can’t help admiring her or it.”
“You seem very enthusiastic, sir,” said Henry. “If I didn’t know you, I should have said too enthusiastic.”
“It’s my way of blowing off steam, Henry,” was the answer. “The best way to overcome temptation is to talk about it, isn’t it? But I’m enthusiastic, as you call it, because she is so amazingly interesting. With a character like that, with all that playing with fire business for the fun of the thing, I can’t help thinking she is more than a spy. She couldn’t be so passive for long, I’m certain. I should think her very impetuosity must frighten the good Baron off his head. I suppose he knows she’ll give him away as much as anybody and yet he can’t do without her. That must be it. I can’t quite see what she has done or what she is likely to do. I should say she’s capable of anything.”
“There I entirely agree with you, sir,” said Henry.
“She might even be Dr. Kellerman himself,” said Harrison.
“You don’t mean it, sir?” exclaimed Henry, with wide-open eyes.
“Of course I don’t, Henry,” said Harrison. “It shows how you can be carried away. If you only thought for a minute you’d realise that Dr. Kellerman is an established practitioner known to Mr. Blacklock and altogether a well-defined individual. Henry, do use your brain.”
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