Cleek of Scotland Yard: Detective Stories
Page 6
CHAPTER V
"How did I come to suspect the girl?" said Cleek, answeringNarkom's query, as they swung off through the darkness in the redlimousine, leaving Edgburn and his confederates in the hands ofthe police. "Well, as a matter of fact, I did not suspect her atall, in the beginning--her saintly reputation saved her from anysuch thing as that. It was only when her father came in that Iknew. And later, I knew even better--when I saw that pretendedimbecile sitting there in that room; for the blundering fool had beenass enough to kick off his slippers and sit there in his stockingfeet, and I spotted the Alvarez foot on the instant. Still, Ididn't know but what the girl herself might be an innocent victim--asort of dove in a vulture's nest--and it was not until I found thatscrap of wood from a sharpened lead pencil that I began to doubther. It was only when I promised that Barrington-Edwards should betrapped, that I actually knew. The light that flamed in her eyes inspite of her at that would have made an idiot understand. What'sthat? What should I suspect from the finding of that scrap ofpencil? My dear Mr. Narkom, carry your mind back to that momentwhen I found the stain on poor Jim Peabody's thumb, and then examinedthe blade of his pocket knife. The marks on the latter showedclearly that the man had sharpened a pencil with it--and, ofcourse, with the point of that pencil against the top of histhumb. By the peculiar bronze-like shine of the streaks, and thesmall particles of dust adhering to the knife blade, I felt persuadedthat the pencil was an indelible one--in short, one of thosewhich write a faint, blackish-lilac hue which, on the applicationof moisture, turns to a vivid and indelible purple. The moistureinduced by the act of thrusting his forefingers up his nostrils toallay the horrible sensation of the brain descending, which thathellish powder produces, together with the perspiration which comeswith intense agony, had made such a change in the smears his thumband forefinger bore, and left no room for doubt that at the time hewas smitten he had either just begun or just concluded writingsomething with an indelible pencil which he had but recentlysharpened. Poor wretch! he of all the lot had some one belongingto him that was still living--his poor old mother. It is very fair tosuppose that, finding the Alvarez place so lavishly furnished, andhaving hopes that great riches were yet to be his, he sat down onthat bed and began to write a few lines in his illiterate way tothat mother before wholly undressing and getting between thesheets. The mark on his palm is a clear proof that when thepowder suddenly descended upon him he involuntarily closed his handon that letter and the perspiration transferred to his flesh theshape of the scrawl upon which it rested. Pardon? How did I knowthrough that scrawl that I was really on the track, and that itwas the Bareva Reef that was at the bottom of the whole game? Mydear Mr. Narkom, I won't insult your intelligence by explainingthat. All you have to do is to turn that tracing upside down andlook _through_ it--or at it in a mirror--and you'll have the answerfor yourself. What's that? The parcel the girl gave Edgburn tocarry out on the pretext of taking it to an orphanage? Oh, thatwas how they were slowly getting rid of the victims' clothes.Cutting them up into little pieces and throwing them into theriver, I suppose, or if not----"
He stopped suddenly, his ear caught by a warning sound; then turnedin his seat and glanced through the little window at the back of thelimousine.
"I thought as much," he said, half aloud; then leaned forward,caught up the pipe of the speaking tube, and signalled Lennard. "Looksharp--taxi following us!" he said. "Put on a sudden spurt--that chapwill increase speed to keep pace with us--then pull up sharp andlet the other fellow's impetus carry him by before he can helphimself. Out with the light, Mr. Narkom--out with it quick!"
Both Lennard and his master followed instructions. Of a sudden thelights flicked out, the car leapt forward with a bound, then pulledup with a jerk that shook it from end to end. In that moment thetaxi in the rear whizzed by them, and Narkom, leaning forward tolook as it flashed past, saw seated within it the figure of CountWaldemar of Mauravania.
"By James! Did you see that, Cleek?" he cried, and switched roundand made a grab for Cleek's arm.
But Cleek was not there. His seat was empty, and the door beside itwas swinging ajar.
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" exclaimed the superintendent, fairlycarried out of himself--for, even in his old Vanishing Cracksman'sdays, when he had slipped the leash and eluded the police so often,the man had not made a more adroit, more silent, more successfulgetaway than this. "Of all the astonishing----! Gad, an eel's afool to him for slipping out of tight places. When did he go, Iwonder, and where?"
Never very strong on matters of detail, here curiosity tricked himinto absolute indiscretion. Sliding along the seat to the swingingdoor he thrust it open and leaned out into the darkness, for apurpose so evident that he who ran might read. That one who ran_did_, he had good reason to understand in the next instant, for,of a sudden, the taxi in advance checked its wild flight, swunground with a noisy scroo-op, and pelted back until the two vehiclesstood cheek by jowl, so to speak, and the glare of its headlightswas pouring full force upon Mr. Narkom and into the interior ofthe red limousine.
"Here! Dash your infernal impudence," began he, blinking up atthe driver through a glare which prevented him seeing that thetaxicab's leather blinds had been discreetly pulled down, and itsinterior rendered quite invisible; but before he could add so muchas another word to his protest the chauffeur's voice broke in witha blandness and an accent which told its own story.
"Dix mille pardons, m'sieur," it commenced, then pulled itselfup as if the owner of it had suddenly recollected himself--andadded abruptly in a farcical attempt to imitate the jargon of thefast-disappearing London cabby. "Keep of the 'air on, ole coq!Only wantin' to arsk of the question civile. Lost my bloomin' way.Put a cove on to the short cut to the 'Igh Street will yer, like ablessed Christian? I dunno where I are."
Mr. Narkom was not suffered to make reply. Before he had morethan grasped the fact that the speaker was undeniably a Frenchman,Lennard--out of the range of that dazzling light--had made thediscovery that he was yet more undeniably a Frenchman of that classfrom which the Apaches are recruited, and stepped into the breachwith astonishing adroitness.
"Oh, that's the trouble, is it?" he interposed. "My hat! Why, ofcourse we'll put you on the way. Wot's more, we'll take you alongand show you--won't we, guv'ner, eh?--so as you won't go astray tillyou gets there. 'Eads in and door shut, Superintendent," bringingthe limousine around until it pointed in the same direction as thetaxicab. "Now then, straight ahead, and foller yer nose, Jules;we'll be rubbin' shoulders with you the whole blessed way. Andas the Dook of Wellington said to Napoleon Bonaparte, 'None ofyour larks, you blighter--you're a-comin' along with me!'"
That he was, was a condition of affairs so inevitable that thechauffeur made no attempt to evade it; merely put on speed andheaded straight for the distant High Street for the purpose ofgetting rid of his escort as soon as possible; and Lennard, puttingon speed, likewise, and keeping pace with him, ran him neck and neck,until the heath was left far and away behind, the darkness gaveplace to a glitter of street lamps, the lonely roads to populousthoroughfares, and the way was left clear for Cleek to get offunfollowed and unmolested.