by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XXVI. THE ORCHID OF SLEEP
"My God!" cried Innes, "here is proof that the chief was right!"
Wessex nodded in silent agreement. On the table lay the report ofMerton, the analyst, concerning the stains upon the serviette whichHarley had sent from the house of the late Sir Charles Abingdon.Briefly, it stated that the serviette had been sprinkled with someessential oil, the exact character of which Merton had found himselfunable to determine, its perfume, if it ever possessed any, havingdisappeared. And the minute quantity obtainable from the linen renderedordinary tests difficult to apply. The analyst's report, however,concluded as follows:
"Mr. Harley, having foreseen these difficulties, and having apparentlysuspected that the oil was of Oriental origin, recommended me, in thenote which he enclosed with the serviette, to confer with Dr. WarwickGrey. I send a copy of a highly interesting letter which I have receivedfrom Doctor Grey, whose knowledge of Eastern poison is unparalleled, andto whose opinion I attach immense importance."
It was the contents of this appended letter which had inspired Innes'sremarks. Indeed, it contained matter which triumphantly establishedPaul Harley's theory that Sir Charles Abingdon had not died from naturalcauses. The letter was as follows:
'No.---- Harley Street London, W. I.
'MY DEAR MERTON:
'I am indebted to you and to Mr. Harley for an opportunity of examiningthe serviette, which I return herewith. I agree that the oil does notrespond to ordinary tests, nor is any smell perceptible. But you havenoticed in your microscopic examination of the stains that there is apeculiar crystalline formation upon the surface. You state that this isquite unfamiliar to you, which is not at all strange, since outsideof the Himalayan districts of Northwest India I have never met with itmyself.
'Respecting the character of the oil employed, however, I am in nodoubt, and I actually possess a dried specimen of the flower from whichit is expressed. This is poetically known among the Mangars, one of thefighting tribes of Nepal, as the Bloom or Orchid of Sleep.
'It is found upon the lower Himalayan slopes, and bears a closeresemblance to the white odontoglossum of commerce, except that theflower is much smaller. Its perfume attracts insects and sometimes smallanimals and reptiles, although inhalation seems to induce instant death.It may be detected in its natural state by the presence of hundredsof dead flies and insects upon the ground surrounding the plant. It isespecially fatal to nocturnal insects, its perfume being stronger atnight.
'Preparation of the oil is an art peculiar to members of an obscure sectestablished in that district, by whom it is said to be employed for theremoval of enemies.
'An article is sprinkled with it, and whilst the perfume, which isreported to resemble that of cloves, remains perceptible, to inhale itresults in immediate syncope, although by what physiological process Ihave never been enabled to determine.
'With the one exception which I have mentioned, during my stay in Nepaland the surrounding districts I failed to obtain a specimen of thisorchid. I have twice seen the curious purple stain upon articles ofclothing worn by natives who had died suddenly and mysteriously. TheMangars simply say, "He has offended someone. It is the flower ofsleep."
'I immediately recognized the colour of the stains upon the enclosedserviette, and also the curious crystalline formation on their surface.The identity of the "someone" to whom the Mangars refer, I neverestablished. I shall welcome any particulars respecting the history ofthe serviette.
'Very truly yours,
'WARWICK GREY.'
"Sir Charles Abingdon was poisoned," said Wessex in a hushed voice. "Forthe girl's sake I hate the idea, but we shall have to get an exhumationorder."
"It is impossible," returned Innes, shortly. "He was cremated."
"Good heavens," murmured Wessex, "I never knew."
"But after all," continued Inures, "it is just as well for everyoneconcerned. The known facts are sufficient to establish the murder,together with the report of Dr. Warwick Grey. But, meanwhile, are we anynearer to learning the identity of the murderer?"
"We are not!" said Wessex, grimly. "And what's more, when I get toScotland Yard, I have got to face the music. First Mr. Harley goes, andnow Nicol Brinn has disappeared!"
"It's almost unbelievable!"
"I took him for a white man," said the detective, earnestly. "I acceptedhis parole for twenty-four hours. The twenty-four hours expired aboutnoon to-day, but since he played that trick on Stokes last night andwent out of his chambers, he has vanished utterly."
Innes stood up excitedly.
"Your ideas may be all wrong, Wessex!" he cried. "Don't you see that hemay have gone the same way as the chief?"
"He was mightily anxious to get out, at any rate."
"And you have no idea where he went?"
"Not the slightest. Following his performance of last night, of course Iwas compelled to instal a man in the chambers, and this morning someonerang up from the house of Lord Wolverham; he is commanding officer ofone of the Guards battalions, I believe. It appears that Mr. NicolBrinn not only locked up a representative of the Criminal InvestigationDepartment, but also stole a Rolls Royce car from outside the CavalryClub!"
"What!" cried Innes. "Stole a car?"
"Stole Lord Wolverham's car and calmly drove away in it. We have failedto trace both car and man!" The detective inspector sighed wearily."Well, I suppose I must get along to the Yard. Stokes has got the laughon me this time."
Wearing a very gloomy expression, the detective inspector proceeded onfoot to New Scotland Yard, and being informed on his arrival upstairsthat the Assistant Commissioner was expecting him, he entered the officeof that great man.
The Assistant Commissioner, who had palpably seen military service, wasa big man with very tired eyes, and a quiet, almost apologetic manner.
"Ah, Detective Inspector," he said, as Wessex entered. "I wanted to seeyou about this business of Mr. Nicol Brinn."
"Yes, sir," replied Wessex; "naturally."
"Now," the Assistant Commissioner turned wearily in his chair, andglanced up at his subordinate--"your accepting the parole of a suspect,under the circumstances, was officially improper, but I am not blamingyou--I am not blaming you for a moment. Mr. Nicol Brinn's well-knownreputation justified your behaviour." He laid one large hand firmly uponthe table. "Mr. Nicol Brinn's absence alters the matter entirely."
"I am well aware of it," murmured the inspector. "Although," continuedthe Assistant Commissioner, "Mr. Brinn's record leads me to believe thathe will have some suitable explanation to offer, his behaviour, you willadmit, is that of a guilty man?"
"It is, sir; it certainly is."
"The Press, fortunately, has learned nothing of this unpleasantbusiness, particularly unpleasant because it involves such well-knownpeople. You will see to it, Detective Inspector, that all publicity isavoided if possible. Meanwhile, as a matter of ordinary departmentalroutine, you will circulate Mr. Brinn's description through theusual channels, and--" the Assistant Commissioner raised his eyebrowsslightly.
"You mean that?" asked Wessex.
"Certainly. He must be arrested by the first officer who recognizeshim."
"Very good, sir. I will move in the matter at once."
"Do so, please." The Assistant Commissioner sighed wearily, as one ofhis telephones set up a muted buzzing. "That is all for the moment, Ithink. Good morning."
Detective Inspector Wessex came out, quietly closing the door behindhim. He felt that he had been let down very lightly. But neverthelesshe was unpleasantly warm, and as he walked slowly along the corridor hewhistled softly, and:
"Arrest of Mr. Nicol Brinn," he muttered. "What a headline, if they everget it!"
