CHAPTER XXXVI
Mr. Sabin received an early visitor whilst still lingering over a slightbut elegant breakfast. Passmore seated himself in an easy-chair andaccepted the cigar which his host himself selected for him.
"I am glad to see you," Mr. Sabin said. "This affair of Duson's remainsa complete mystery to me. I am looking to you to help me solve it."
The little man with the imperturbable face removed his cigar from hismouth and contemplated it steadfastly.
"It is mysterious," he said. "There are circumstances in connectionwith it which even now puzzle me very much, very much indeed. There arecircumstances in connection with it also which I fear may be a shock toyou, sir."
"My life," Mr. Sabin said, with a faint smile, "has been made up ofshocks. A few more or less may not hurt me."
"Duson," the detective said, "was at heart a faithful servant!"
"I believe it," Mr. Sabin said.
"He was much attached to you!"
"I believe it."
"It is possible that unwittingly he died for you."
Mr. Sabin was silent. It was his way of avoiding a confession ofsurprise. And he was surprised. "You believe then," he said, after amoment's pause, "that the poison was intended for me?"
"Certainly I do," the detective answered. "Duson was, after all, avalet, a person of little importance. There is no one to whom hisremoval could have been of sufficient importance to justify such extrememeasures. With you it is different."
Mr. Sabin knocked the ash from his cigarette.
"Why not be frank with me, Mr. Passmore?" he said. "There is no needto shelter yourself under professional reticence. Your connection withScotland Yard ended, I believe, some time ago. You are free to speak orto keep silence. Do one or the other. Tell me what you think, and I willtell you what I know. That surely will be a fair exchange. You shallhave my facts for your surmises."
Passmore's thin lips curled into a smile. "You know that I have leftScotland Yard then, sir?"
"Quite well! You are employed by them often, I believe, but you are noton the staff, not since the affair of Nerman and the code book."
If Passmore had been capable of reverence, his eyes looked it at thatmoment.
"You knew this last night, sir?"
"Certainly!"
"Five years ago, sir," he said, "I told my chief that in you thedetective police of the world had lost one who must have been theirking. More and more you convince me of it. I cannot believe that you areignorant of the salient points concerning Duson's death."
"Treat me as being so, at any rate," Mr. Sabin said.
"I am pardoned," Passmore said, "for speaking plainly of familymatters--my concern in which is of course purely professional?"
Mr. Sabin looked up for a moment, but he signified his assent.
"You left America," Passmore said, "in search of your wife, formerlyCountess of Radantz, who had left you unexpectedly."
"It is true!" Mr. Sabin answered.
"Madame la Duchesse on reaching London became the guest of the Duchessof Dorset, where she has been staying since. Whilst there she hasreceived many visits from Mr. Reginald Brott."
Mr. Sabin's face was as the face of a sphinx. He made no sign.
"You do not waste your time, sir, over the Society papers. Yet you haveprobably heard that Madame la Duchesse and Mr. Reginald Brott have beenwritten about and spoken about as intimate friends. They have been seentogether everywhere. Gossip has been busy with their names. Mr. Brotthas followed the Countess into circles which before her coming hezealously eschewed. The Countess is everywhere regarded as a widow, anda marriage has been confidently spoken of."
Mr. Sabin bowed his head slightly. But of expression there was in hisface no sign.
"These things," Passmore continued, "are common knowledge. I havespoken up to now of nothing which is not known to the world. I proceeddifferently."
"Good!" Mr. Sabin said.
"There is," Passmore continued, "in the foreign district of London aman named Emil Sachs, who keeps a curious sort of a wine-shop, andsupplements his earnings by disposing at a high figure of certain rareand deadly poisons. A few days ago the Countess visited him and secureda small packet of the most deadly drug the man possesses."
Mr. Sabin sat quite still. He was unmoved.
"The Countess," Passmore continued, "shortly afterwards visited theserooms. An hour after her departure Duson was dead. He died from drinkingout of your liqueur glass, into which a few specks of that powder,invisible almost to the naked eye, had been dropped. At Dorset HouseReginald Brott was waiting for her. He left shortly afterwards in astate of agitation."
"And from these things," Mr. Sabin said, "you draw, I presume, thenatural inference that Madame la Duchesse, desiring to marry her oldadmirer, Reginald Brott, first left me in America, and then, since Ifollowed her here, attempted to poison me."
"There is," Passmore said, "a good deal of evidence to that effect."
"Here," Mr. Sabin said, handing him Duson's letter, "is some evidence tothe contrary."
Passmore read the letter carefully.
"You believe this," he asked, "to be genuine?"
Mr. Sabin smiled.
"I am sure of it!" he answered.
"You recognise the handwriting?"
"Certainly!"
"And this came into your possession--how?"
"I found it on the table by Duson's side."
"You intend to produce it at the inquest?"
"I think not," Mr. Sabin answered.
There was a short silence. Passmore was revolving a certain matter inhis mind--thinking hard. Mr. Sabin was apparently trying to make ringsof the blue smoke from his cigarette.
"Has it occurred to you," Passmore asked, "to wonder for what reasonyour wife visited these rooms on the morning of Duson's death?"
Mr. Sabin shook his head.
"I cannot say that it has."
"She knew that you were not here," Passmore continued. "She left nomessage. She came closely veiled and departed unrecognised." Mr. Sabinnodded.
"There were reasons," he said, "for that. But when you say that she leftno message you are mistaken."
Passmore nodded.
"Go on," he said.
Mr. Sabin nodded towards a great vase of La France roses upon a sidetable.
"I found these here on my return," he said, "and attached to them thecard which I believe is still there. Go and look at it."
Passmore rose and bent over the fragrant blossoms. The card stillremained, and on the back of it, in a delicate feminine handwriting:
"For my husband, "with love from "Lucille."
Mr. Passmore shrugged his shoulders. He had not the vice of obstinacy,and he knew when to abandon a theory.
"I am corrected," he said. "In any case, a mystery remains as well worthsolving. Who are these people at whose instigation Duson was to havemurdered you--these people whom Duson feared so much that suicide washis only alternative to obeying their behests?"
Mr. Sabin smiled faintly.
"Ah, my dear Passmore," he said, "you must not ask me that question.I can only answer you in this way. If you wish to make the biggestsensation which has ever been created in the criminal world, to renderyourself immortal, and your fame imperishable--find out! I may not helpyou, I doubt whether you will find any to help you. But if you wantexcitement, the excitement of a dangerous chase after a tremendousquarry, take your life in your hands, go in and win."
Passmore's withered little face lit up with a gleam of rare excitement.
"These are your enemies, sir," he said. "They have attempted your lifeonce, they may do it again. Assume the offensive yourself. Give me ahint."
Mr. Sabin shook his head.
"That I cannot do," he said. "I have saved you from wasting your time ona false scent. I have given you something definite to work upon. Furtherthan that I can do nothing."
Passmore
looked his disappointment, but he knew Mr. Sabin better than toargue the matter.
"You will not even produce that letter at the inquest?" he asked.
"Not even that," Mr. Sabin answered.
Passmore rose to his feet.
"You must remember," he said, "that supposing any one else stumblesupon the same trail as I have been pursuing, and suspicion is afterwardsdirected towards madame, your not producing that letter at the inquestwill make it useless as evidence in her favour."
"I have considered all these things," Mr. Sabin said. "I shall depositthe letter in a safe place. But its use will never be necessary. You arethe only man who might have forced me to produce it, and you know thetruth."
Passmore rose reluctantly.
"I want you," Mr. Sabin said, "to leave me not only your address, butthe means of finding you at any moment during the next four-and-twentyhours. I may have some important work for you."
The man smiled as he tore leaf from his pocketbook and a made a fewnotes.
"I shall be glad to take any commission from you, sir," he said. "Totell you the truth, I scarcely thought that you would be content to sitdown and wait."
Mr. Sabin smiled.
"I think," he said, "that very shortly I can find you plenty to do."
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