CHAPTER XXV
Hamel met Kinsley shortly before one o'clock the following afternoon, inthe lounge of the Royal Hotel at Norwich.
"You got my wire, then?" the latter asked, as he held out his hand. "Ihad it sent by special messenger from Wells."
"It arrived directly after breakfast," Hamel replied. "It wasn't theeasiest matter to get here, even then, for there are only about twotrains a day, and I didn't want to borrow a car from Mr. Fentolin."
"Quite right," Kinsley agreed. "I wanted you to come absolutely on yourown. Let's get into the coffee-room and have some lunch now. I want tocatch the afternoon train back to town."
"Do you mean to say that you've come all the way down here to talk to mefor half an hour or so?" Hamel demanded, as they took their places at atable.
"All the way from town," Kinsley assented, "and up to the eyes in workwe are, too. Dick, what do you think of Miles Fentolin?"
"Hanged if I know!" Hamel answered, with a sigh.
"Nothing definite to tell us, then?"
"Nothing!"
"What about Mr. John P. Dunster?"
"He left yesterday morning," Hamel said. "I saw him go. He looked veryshaky. I understood that Mr. Fentolin sent him to Yarmouth."
"Did Mr. Fentolin know that there was an enquiry on foot about thisman's disappearance?" Kinsley asked.
"Certainly. I heard Lord Saxthorpe tell him that the police had receivedorders to scour the country for him, and that they were coming to St.David's Hall."
Kinsley, for a moment, was singularly and eloquently profane.
"That's why Mr. Fentolin let him go, then. If Saxthorpe had only heldhis tongue, or if those infernal police hadn't got chattering with themagistrates, we might have made a coup. As it is, the game's up. Mr.Dunster left for Yarmouth, you say, yesterday morning?"
"I saw him go myself. He looked very shaky and ill, but he was able tosmoke a big cigar and walk down-stairs leaning on the doctor's arm."
"I don't doubt," Kinsley remarked, "but that you saw what you say yousaw. At the same time, you may be surprised to hear that Mr. Dunster hasdisappeared again."
"Disappeared again?" Hamel muttered.
"It looks very much," Kinsley continued, "as though your friend MilesFentolin has been playing with him like a cat with a mouse. He hasbeen obliged to turn him out of one hiding-place, and he has simplytransferred him to another."
Hamel looked doubtful.
"Mr. Dunster left quite alone in the car," he said. "He was on his guardtoo, for Mr. Fentolin and he had had words. I really can't see how itwas possible for him to have got into any more trouble."
"Where is he, then?" Kinsley demanded. "Come, I will let you a littlefurther into our confidence. We have reason to believe that he carrieswith him a written message which is practically the only chance we haveof avoiding disaster during the next few days. That written message isaddressed to the delegates at The Hague, who are now sitting. Nothinghad been heard of Dunster or the document he carries. No word has comefrom him of any sort since he left St. David's Hall."
"Have you tried to trace him from there?" Hamel asked.
"Trace him?" Kinsley repeated. "By heavens, you don't seem tounderstand, Dick, the immense, the extraordinary importance of this manto us! The cleverest detective in England spent yesterday under yournose at St. David's Hall. There are a dozen others working upon the jobas hard as they can. All the reports confirm what you say--that Dunsterleft St. David's Hall at half-past nine yesterday morning, and hecertainly arrived in Yarmouth at a little before twelve. From there heseems, however, to have completely disappeared. The car went back toSt. David's Hall empty; the man only stayed long enough in Yarmouth, infact, to have his dinner. We cannot find a single smack owner whowas approached in any way for the hire of a boat. Yarmouth has beenransacked in vain. He certainly has not arrived at The Hague or weshould have heard news at once. As a last resource, I ran down here tosee you on the chance of your having picked up any information."
Hamel shook his head.
"You seem to know a good deal more than I do, already," he said.
"What do you think of Mr. Fentolin? You have stayed in his house. Youhave had an opportunity of studying him."
"So far as my impressions go," Hamel replied, "everything which you havesuggested might very well be true. I think that either out of sheer loveof mischief, or from some subtler motive, he is capable of anything.Every one in the place, except one poor woman, seems to look upon himas a sort of supernatural being. He gives money away to worthless peoplewith both hands. Yet I share your opinion of him. I believe that he isa creature without conscience or morals. I have sat at his table andshivered when he has smiled."
"Are you staying at St. David's Hall now?"
"I left yesterday."
"Where are you now, then?"
"I am at St. David's Tower--the little place I told you of that belongedto my father--but I don't know whether I shall be able to stop there.Mr. Fentolin, for some reason or other, very much resented my leavingthe Hall and was very annoyed at my insisting upon claiming the Tower.When I went down to the village to get some one to come up and lookafter me, there wasn't a woman there who would come. It didn't matterwhat I offered, they were all the same. They all muttered some excuse orother, and seemed only anxious to show me out. At the village shop theyseemed to hate to serve me with anything. It was all I could do to get apacket of tobacco yesterday afternoon. You would really think that I wasthe most unpopular person who ever lived, and it can only be because ofMr. Fentolin's influence."
"Mr. Fentolin evidently doesn't like to have you in the locality,"Kinsley remarked thoughtfully.
"He was all right so long as I was at St. David's Hall," Hamel observed.
"What's this little place like--St. David's Tower, you call it?" Kinsleyasked.
"Just a little stone building actually on the beach," Hamel explained."There is a large shed which Mr. Fentolin keeps locked up, and thehabitable portion consists just of a bedroom and sitting-room. From whatI can see, Mr. Fentolin has been making a sort of hobby of the place.There is telephonic communication with the house, and he seems to haveused the sitting-room as a sort of studio. He paints sea pictures andreally paints them very well."
A man came into the coffee-room, made some enquiry of the waiter andwent out again. Hamel stared at him in a puzzled manner. For the momenthe could only remember that the face was familiar. Then he suddenly gavevent to a little exclamation.
"Any one would think that I had been followed," he remarked. "The manwho has just looked into the room is one of Mr. Fentolin's parasites orbodyguards, or whatever you call them."
"You probably have," Kinsley agreed. "What post does he hold in thehousehold?"
"I have no idea," Hamel replied. "I saw him the first day I arrived andnot since. Sort of secretary, I should think."
"He is a queer-looking fellow, anyway," Kinsley muttered. "Look out,Dick. Here he comes back again."
Mr. Ryan approached the table a little diffidently.
"I hope you will forgive the liberty, sir," he said to Hamel. "Youremember me, I trust--Mr. Ryan. I am the librarian at St. David's Hall."
Hamel nodded.
"I thought I'd seen you there."
"I was wondering," the man continued, "whether you had a car of Mr.Fentolin's in Norwich to-day, and if so, whether I might beg a seatback in case you were returning before the five o'clock train? I camein early this morning to go through some manuscripts at a second-handbookseller's here, and I have unfortunately missed the train back."
Hamel shook his head.
"I came in by train myself, or I would have given you a lift back, withpleasure," he said.
Mr. Ryan expressed his thanks briefly and left the room. Kinsley watchedhim from over the top of a newspaper.
"So that is one of Mr. Fentolin's creatures, too," he remarked. "Keepinghis eye on you in Norwich, eh? Tell me, Dick, by-the-by, how do you geton with the rest of Mr. Fentolin's household,
and exactly of whom doesit consist?"
"There is his sister-in-law," Hamel replied, "Mrs. Seymour Fentolin. Sheis a strange, tired-looking woman who seems to stand in mortal fear ofMr. Fentolin. She is always overdressed and never natural, but it seemsto me that nearly everything she does is done to suit his whims, or athis instigation."
Kinsley nodded thoughtfully.
"I remember Seymour Fentolin," he said; "a really fine fellow he was.Well, who else?"
"Just the nephew and niece. The boy is half sullen, half discontented,yet he, too, seems to obey his uncle blindly. The three of them seemto be his slaves. It's a thing you can't live in the house withoutnoticing."
"It seems to be a cheerful sort of household," Kinsley observed. "Youread the papers, I suppose, Dick?" he asked, after a moment's pause.
"On and off, the last few days. I seem to have been busy doing all sortsof things."
"Well, I'll tell you something," Kinsley continued. "The whole ofour available fleet is engaged in carrying out what they call ademonstration in the North Sea. They have patrol boats out in everydirection, and only the short distance wireless signals are being used.Everything, of course, is in code, yet we know this for a fact: agood deal of private information passing between the Admiral and hiscommanders was known in Germany three hours after the signals themselveshad been given. It is suspected--more than suspected, in fact--thatthese messages were picked up by Mr. Fentolin's wireless installation."
"I don't suppose he could help receiving them," Hamel remarked.
"He could help decoding them and sending them through to Germany,though," Kinsley retorted grimly. "The worst of it is, he has a privatetelephone wire in his house to London. If he isn't up to mischief,what does he need all these things for--private telegraph line, privatetelephone, private wireless? We have given the postmaster a hint to havethe telegraph office moved down into the village, but I don't know thatthat will help us much."
"So far as regards the wireless," Hamel said, "I rather believe that itis temporarily dismantled. We had a sailor-man over, the morning beforeyesterday, to complain of his messages having been picked up. Mr.Fentolin promised at once to put his installation out of work for atime."
"He has done plenty of mischief with it already," Kinsley groaned."However, it was Dunster I came down to make enquiries about. I couldn'thelp hoping that you might have been able to put us on the right track."
Hamel sighed.
"I know nothing beyond what I have told you."
"How did he look when he went away?"
"Very ill indeed," Hamel declared. "I afterwards saw the nurse who hadbeen attending him, and she admitted that he was not fit to travel. Ishould say the probabilities are that he is laid up again somewhere."
"Did you actually speak to him?"
"Just a word or two."
"And you saw him go off in the car?"
"Gerald Fentolin and I both saw him and wished him good-by."
Kinsley glanced at the clock and rose to his feet. "Walk down to thestation with me," he suggested. "I needn't tell you, I am sure," he wenton, as they left the hotel a few minutes later, "that if anything doesturn up, or if you get the glimmering of an idea, you'll let me know?We've a small army looking for the fellow, but it does seem as though hehad disappeared off the face of the earth. If he doesn't turn up beforethe end of the Conference, we are done."
"Tell me," Hamel asked, after they had walked for some distance insilence, "exactly why is our fleet demonstrating to such an extent?"
"That Conference I have spoken of," Kinsley replied, "which is beingheld at The Hague, is being held, we know, purposely to discuss certainmatters in which we are interested. It is meeting for their discussionwithout any invitation having been sent to this country. There is onlyone reply possible to such a course. It is there in the North Sea. Butunfortunately--"
Kinsley paused. His tone and his expression had alike become gloomier.
"Go on," Hamel begged.
"Our reply, after all, is a miserable affair," Kinsley concluded. "Youremember the outcry over the withdrawal of our Mediterranean Fleet? Nowyou see its sequel. We haven't a ship worth a snap of the fingers fromGibraltar to Suez. If France deserts us, it's good-by to Malta, good-byto Egypt, good-by to India. It's the disruption of the British Empire.And all this," he wound up, as he paused before taking his seat in therailway carriage, "all this might even now be avoided if only we couldlay our hands upon the message which that man Dunster was bringing fromNew York!"
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