Dusty Death

by Clifton Robbins

  “But you said she was capable of anything, sir,” said Henry, crestfallen.

  “Anything possible,” replied Harrison. “But don’t let us get sensational. By the way, they’re taking a long time over their lunch. Pretty hard when I’m seething, Henry, don’t you think?”

  “I know a good cure for seething, sir,” said Henry, cheering up.

  “What’s that?”

  “A cup of tea, sir.”

  “I’m afraid not, Henry, the one thing I don’t want to do is to leave this place at present. Let’s have coffee in the lounge here.”

  “But you’re not fond of coffee, sir?”

  “I didn’t say we were going to drink it, Henry, but I think it looks better to have it about the place.”

  He ordered the coffee, although his somewhat frugal soul resented the suggestion that it was to be merely decorative.

  “We shall have to do a bit of wandering round Geneva during the day,” said Harrison. “I’ve got Dawnay’s list of possible dope sellers and I may have to call on the lot of them.”

  “That’ll take time, sir,” said Henry.

  “It will, but I don’t think it will be wasted. I’ve got a scheme in my head, Henry, vaguely, and they’re a part of it. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me, Henry, I shall need company.”

  “I should think I am coming with you, sir,” said Henry, emphatically.

  “By the way, Henry, do you know how to get hold of Miss Mona Warley?”

  “Well, I think I do,” answered Henry, diffidently.

  “You know you do, then.”

  “Yes, sir, I can find her all right.”

  “Splendid, Henry,” said Harrison. “I knew you could. I may want her to help me to-night, if my idea works out. If I give you the word, you will fix that up, won’t you?”

  “Now, sir?”

  “No, not now. I can’t be certain yet. I may not know until quite late.”

  “But I had better warn her, sir?”

  “That wouldn’t do, Henry!”

  “She may not keep her evening free, sir.”

  “Well, if you must telephone to her, Henry, you’d better go and do it, but it’s only to keep her evening free. She may be a very nice girl and all that, but if you tell her I may want her to help me, you never know what she might say. Go along and telephone, Henry, but do be careful.”

  Henry beamed and went out of the lounge just as the Baron and Miss de Marplay appeared down the stairs from the dining-room. They crossed the lounge just by Harrison, and the Baron bowed very politely. When they were right past him, Jeanne de Marplay looked over her shoulder and made the words “to-morrow” with her mouth, to which Harrison nodded in reply.

  “Queer,” thought Harrison. “She doesn’t seem to have confided our engagement to the Baron. A very independent person. I wonder what her game is.”

  When Henry returned, all smiles, he found Harrison standing on the front steps of the hotel.

  “Hello, Henry,” he said. “All right?”

  “All fixed up,” was the reply.

  “Good,” said Harrison. “You see they’ve changed the guard at Hotel des Montagnes, as Milne might say.”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “The Baron and the lady were watching over me during lunch,” said Harrison. “You saw them come down, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Henry. “But, what else?”

  “They obviously have urgent business of their own to attend to, so they have left another guard in their place.”

  “I don’t see it, sir.”

  “Don’t you see that man fishing in the lake across the road?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Of course, he isn’t fishing, except to amuse us.”

  “I see,” said Henry, vaguely.

  “Don’t you recognise him?”

  “I don’t think so, sir.”

  “I’m willing to bet anything it’s our bright-eyed friend who followed us about yesterday and so kindly met us at the station last night.”

  “So it may be, sir.”

  “We shall soon see,” said Harrison, and he hailed a taxi-cab.

  “27, Rue des Roses,” he said to the taxi-cab driver. The man who had been watching them drew even nearer, and Harrison turned round to him suddenly and exclaimed, “Oh, you want to know, too, do you? Well, I don’t mind. I’m going to 27, Rue des Roses.”

  The man dropped back, evidently exceedingly astonished, but Harrison noticed that when his taxi-cab started the man hailed another and followed behind.

  “Did you see his face?” asked Harrison.

  “I did, sir,” said Henry, with a chuckle. “He’ll need a double dose to-night.”

  The taxi-cab drove across the bridge and made up the Corraterie. Passing the University gardens, it came to a district which seemed to contain most of the doctors in Geneva—a kind of miniature Harley Street. No. 27, Rue des Roses, was part of a block of flats where certainly Dr. Kellerman was only one doctor among many.

  Harrison got out of the taxi-cab and paid his fare. He then waited outside the block of flats until the other taxi-cab came in sight. When his follower got out on the other side of the street, Harrison gave him a disarming smile and, turning to Henry, said. “I’ll go up alone, Henry; you had better stay down here and keep an eye on our friend, George.”

  Harrison, on ringing the doctor’s bell, was greeted with the answer that Dr. Kellerman saw nobody without an appointment. This, however, did not perturb him, and he patiently explained that he was on very important business for the League and handed the maid his card. She seemed impressed and showed him into a waiting-room while she went off to find the doctor. She soon returned and again explained that it was impossible to see the doctor without an appointment.

  “But I must see him,” answered Harrison. “And I’m afraid I shall have to stay here until I do.”

  As Harrison said this, a man came quickly into the room, exclaiming: “This is unpardonable.”

  “Dr. Kellerman?” asked Harrison.

  “Mr. Clay Harrison, the famous investigator, I suppose,” answered the other rudely.

  Harrison looked at his man. He was tall and muscular, with a long, black beard and gleaming eyes. He gave the suggestion of strong will power and magnetism, but no hint of a pleasant bedside manner.

  “This is no tribute to the customary good manners of your nation, Mr. Harrison,” said the doctor, brusquely. “Insulting a woman is unusual even in my country. I must ask you to get out at once.”

  “Just a moment, Dr. Kellerman, please,” said Harrison. “If I have insulted your maid I apologise humbly, but—”

  “Your apology is accepted,” answered the doctor, holding the door. “Good afternoon.”

  “But my business with you is serious,” said Harrison, “and cannot be delayed.”

  “There can be no serious business between you and myself,” answered the doctor, to Harrison’s astonishment. “Still, you may think it so. I will give you one minute.”

  “It may have seemed very rude of me to push in like this, I know,” said Harrison. “But I think you will understand when I say that it is in connection with a very dear friend of mine.”

  “Oh,” replied the doctor.

  “With the death, I am sorry to say, of a very dear friend of mine.”

  “His name?”

  “Brown.”

  “A very common English name, I believe, Mr. Harrison.”

  “But an unusual kind of death, Dr. Kellerman.”

  “You interest me, Mr. Harrison, but I do not think I can help you.”

  “Yes, you can, Dr. Kellerman; you signed his death certificate.”

  “Did I, Mr. Harrison,” said the doctor, looking intently at him. “And what was his Christian name?”

  “Charles,” said Harrison.

  “Then I cannot help you,” said the doctor. “The Christian name of the man I knew was George.”

  Harrison looked at him and rea
lised that his luck had certainly failed him this time. He had guessed, and, as far as he knew, guessed wrongly. The doctor had laid his trap quite neatly. But Harrison kicked himself for not having asked Blacklock what it was.

  “Not very clever, were you?” said the doctor, maliciously.

  “I don’t quite see—” said Harrison.

  “You thought you could force your way in here and trick me into answering questions about a very dear friend of yours who happened to have the wrong Christian name. A poor bluff, Mr. Harrison—and I suppose they pay you for this sort of thing. Well, there’s no information to be got here.”

  “I think it would be wiser if you told me what you knew,” said Harrison quietly.

  “So you think it wiser, do you, Mr. Harrison?” answered the doctor, with a sneer. “Just a little threat, eh? It’s no use trying that method, and you know it isn’t. You know you have no status here. You don’t even belong to that precious League committee now. We’re not such fools as all that, Mr. Harrison. Indeed, I think I may as well warn you that I could have you turned out of Geneva for behaving like this. At any rate, Geneva would be well rid of you.”

  Harrison smiled and did not answer.

  “You may smile and think yourself very clever,” said the doctor, angrily. “But I warn you, for your own good, to keep your prying nose out of other people’s affairs. It’s a very unhealthy habit, Mr. Harrison, and may have to be cured by drastic remedies.”

  “Just a little threat?” echoed Harrison.

  “Fool,” answered Kellerman. “But you haven’t the brain to understand. Now perhaps you will go?”

  “Of course,” said Harrison, very politely. “And may I say that I hope we meet again.”

  “I’m damned if we will,” shouted the doctor, as Harrison went down the stairs.

  Harrison found Henry at the front-door of the flats while the watcher was trying to look blissfully unconscious in a doorway further down the road.

  “Well, sir?” asked Henry, as they walked away.

  “Most unfriendly,” replied Harrison. “Didn’t like me a bit.”

  “Very strange,” said Henry. “Called me a fool, Henry. Me, the great Clay Harrison, a fool. Most uncomplimentary.”

  “I should like to call him something, sir,” exclaimed Henry heatedly.

  “Thank you, Henry, but better not at the moment. He didn’t tell me anything.”

  “He wouldn’t, sir,” said Henry.

  “Well, I really can’t say that he didn’t tell me anything because he was so keen on not telling me anything that it seemed rather suspicious.”

  “You’re still interested in that poor man Brown, sir?” asked Henry.

  “Very,” was the answer. “Dr. Kellerman refused to say anything at all. That makes it seem rather fishy to me. Why not tell me something about it? It was such a simple business and I am a fellow Englishman. No, Kellerman has been warned to keep his mouth shut and, being melodramatic, I must say, a bit hasty-tempered, has shown me too obviously the fearful collection of padlocks he has put on it.”

  “That’s good, sir,” said Henry. “Are we any warmer?”

  “Well, Henry, all we can say at the moment is that we are getting any number of ideas and a few scattered facts but we can’t say we’re really warmer. If we’re lucky we might suddenly fall into a heatwave. That’s all. But there’s one thing I am certain of and that is that we shall need the services of your friend, Miss Mona. Will you get hold of her?”

  “Yes sir,” said Henry.

  “I’ve no idea what time she’ll get to bed,” Harrison continued. “I’ll make it as early as possible but you’d better tell her. She should come to Dawnay’s flat after dinner, Henry, and then await developments. You needn’t mention it to her, Henry, but for your own information I regard her as essential.”

  “Do you really, sir?” said Henry delightedly.

  “I do, Henry, so you’d better arrange it at once. I’ll take most of the rest of the day calling on these addresses Dawnay gave me. They may not help much but there is one more thing I should like to know before I see Dr. Kellerman again.”

  Henry looked at Harrison and was about to ask a question but discreetly refrained, knowing that no answer would be forthcoming.

  “Clear off, then, Henry,” said Harrison. “And meet me at the hotel at dinner time.”

  Henry went off, whistling cheerfully, and gave the watcher a pleasant smile as he passed. The separation of his two charges somewhat nonplussed the latter but he decided that Harrison was obviously the more important and that his job was still to follow him.

  Harrison studied Dawnay’s list and started his tour of combing out possible drug traffickers in Geneva. It was not an easy task and did not produce any result at the first three addresses upon which he called. They were very attentive to his requests for cocaine and the like but explained to him that although they would be delighted to help him in any other way they could not possibly sell drugs, that was illegal.

  As Harrison neared the fourth address, which seemed to be a small chemist’s shop, the watcher increased his pace and they reached the door practically simultaneously. The watcher suddenly dived forward and jumped to get into the shop before Harrison but Harrison was not unprepared for this move and gripped the man’s arm in a manner which made him twist round and slip back again.

  “What does all this mean?” demanded Harrison. “I don’t mind you following me about but I won’t have you pushing in front of me like this.”

  The man looked threateningly at Harrison but the latter had only to move his arm slightly for the watcher to cower away.

  “Wanted to warn your friends, did you?” thought Harrison. “The nasty Englishman might ask awkward questions. I wonder if this is the place I want.”

  Harrison went in and found a very young assistant behind the counter. He was desolated that his proprietor was not at home and that therefore Mr. Harrison would be disappointed.

  Mr. Harrison was disappointed because a few words showed him that the assistant had no ideas whatever on the subject of drugs. The watcher had also come close up to the window and his face showed such obvious relief after a glance into the shop that Harrison knew any further inquiries there would be waste of time.

  As dinner time arrived Harrison found that he had no information and only two more addresses left. He consoled himself, however, with the thought that one of them was that of the person who had been arrested but had been released because of lack of evidence. I might have gone there first he thought, but it might be best to leave such a titbit to the last and I may want Henry with me too.

  After dinner, therefore, the two sallied forth together. There was no sign of the watcher but Harrison felt certain they would not be left alone. Both addresses were in the byeways of the old town where there were enough dark corners to conceal anyone who might be following and Harrison felt certain that something like this was happening.

  The first address proved abortive and they proceeded to the second. Suddenly Harrison stopped.

  “What is it, sir?” asked Henry.

  “We’re being shadowed,” answered Harrison. “Literally shadowed. Something quite black seems to glide from dark corner to dark corner behind us as we move. Look out of the tail of your eye when we go on again, Henry, and see for yourself.”

  They walked on again and Harrison said: “See anything, Henry?”

  “I can’t say, sir,” said Henry. “I thought I saw the shadows move but I wouldn’t be certain.”

  “We’re being shadowed handsomely,” said Harrison. “They’re doing us proud to-night. We’ve got to keep pretty alert, Henry. Be ready if anyone should feel like springing out on you.”

  They finally reached Dawnay’s last address and this proved to be a rather evil-looking general shop where everything in the world seemed to be on sale. Fruit, cheese, sausage, tinned fruit, spirits, the lonely wayfarer in search of anything saleable would seem to be able to find it there. Behind the counter wa
s a foxy-looking middle-aged man with steel-rimmed glasses and the inevitable beard. He was very gracious but obviously rather surprised and a little suspicious of Harrison’s visit.

  Harrison came to the point at once but the shopkeeper innocently disclaimed any knowledge of dangerous drugs. Harrison then tried him with a number of suggestions which had been unsuccessful at the other addresses. They were equally unavailing here, the shopkeeper was not impressed but Harrison felt that all the time he was keeping his ears well open for some indispensable clue or “password”, something that should mean a safe deal. Harrison mentioned the Baron. The shopkeeper looked at him intently and waited. Obviously he was not yet satisfied but Harrison knew he was well on the road. Then Harrison played his trump card and said that really he had been recommended by Dr. Kellerman.

  The shopkeeper smiled a large and knowing smile and went into the back room of the shop, He reappeared with a small envelope and named a large sum in Swiss francs. Harrison looked rather surprised but the shopkeeper explained the difficulty and danger of obtaining such merchandise and Harrison paid him what he asked.

  “Now, Henry,” said Harrison, as they left the queer shop and went towards the centre of the city. “We shall be able to stage our little scene to-night with Miss Warley as one of the important characters.”

  “Did it depend on the drug sellers, sir?” asked Henry.

  “Well, this makes it much easier, Henry,” replied Harrison. “But I wouldn’t take up drugs, if I were you. This little bit of cocaine is infernally expensive. By the way, our shadow is still dodging about behind. I wish we could catch it but that would be hopeless.”

  “We shall soon see it when we get to the bridge, sir,” said Henry. “It’s jolly well lighter there.”

  “If you ask me, Henry,” answered Harrison, “directly it finds we are on the bridge and headed for the hotel, it will disappear because it won’t be keen on crossing a well-lit bridge. Rather like one of the old witchcraft superstitions, you know, some devils don’t like crossing running water.”

  “I expect so,” said Henry.