Cherry Ames 24 Companion Nurse (18 page)

“I had a narrow escape,” Cherry murmured, and Sergeant Kerr said, “You did, indeed, miss.” The police cars drew up in front of headquarters.

Hazard and Ryder were taken inside. As the detectives

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helped Cherry out of the car, she saw Martha and Peter getting out of a taxi. They hurried over to Cherry, relief and concern mixed in their faces.

“Thank heavens!” Martha exclaimed. “Cherry, you look shaken. Are you all right? What happened?” Cherry told them briefl y, as they went into the building and waited, as requested to do, in an anteroom.

Peter was speechless. Martha looked rather sick.

“We’ve all been worried to death about you,” Martha said to Cherry. “After you and that detective went running off, Mr. Blair—he’s the other detective who was posted near the shop—notifi ed Inspector Forbes by telephone. Then we came here to report details. The inspector was reassuring me that Mr. Cox would look out for you when”—Martha shook her head—“Mr. Cox walked in
without
you. Said he’d lost you! Well!

“But a minute or two later, the inspector had a phone call from Sergeant Kerr, who’d just learned from the waiter about
somewhere
in Weir Street. That gave me a little hope,” Martha said.

“Poor you,” said Cherry.

Martha shrugged. “Inspector Forbes fi nally persuaded me to go to the hotel and rest. But how could I rest?

I waited until Peter came in at fi ve, and told him you were missing, and—Well, we came here hoping we could help.”

“If I’d known earlier—” Peter said. “I feel awful about what you’ve been up against, Cherry.” Cherry looked down at her sore, rubbed wrists.

“I’ve been an idiot.”

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“But such a nice, well-meaning idiot,” said Martha.

They all had to laugh.

Sergeant Kerr came out of the inspector’s offi ce and asked the three of them to come with him. They entered a glaringly lighted offi ce with barred windows.

Armed guards stood at the room’s two doors. A police-man stenotypist came in. Then Hazard and Ryder were brought in by the detectives who had captured them.

When the inspector came in, everyone sat down.

Cherry noticed Hazard’s and Ryder’s inky fi ngertips; the prisoners had been fi ngerprinted.

The inspector said, “We are going to take down preliminary statements from Archibald Hazard and Rodney Ryder. They will have benefi t of counsel and a trial in due course. I should like our American visitors to listen, in order to verify or challenge anything in the statements of which they have fi rsthand knowledge.

Mr. Hazard, we will begin with you.” Sergeant Kerr prodded Hazard, who sullenly stood up. “By the way,” the inspector said, “we’ve been checking this afternoon by radio with the police in New York City, with Scotland Yard in London, and with Interpol headquarters in Paris, on the four criminals in this case. So you may as well talk, Mr. Hazard.” Hazard stubbornly refused to say a word.

“Very well, Mr. Hazard,” the inspector said. “I shall read you Interpol’s dossier on you.” He picked up a typed report. “ ‘Archibald Hazard, forty, American. Real name Fred Walker. Several aliases given. Early in his life was an unsuccessful actor; now uses his skills in

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acting and makeup to change his identity on various burglary jobs. Well educated, with some knowledge of works of art. Known to the American police, so transferred his operations abroad. Acquainted in England with known criminals Rodney Ryder, Jessica Ryder, and Ben Egly.’ ” The inspector glanced up. “Shall I go on, Mr. Hazard? Or will you?”

Ryder called out shrilly, “If he won’t talk, I will!” Kerr silenced him.

“Very well,” Hazard growled. “I have excellent connections in the United States among—er—persons who can resell paintings in cities scattered all over the world—mainly in South America, and in Russia via the Asian route.”

“Do you mean,” the inspector interrupted, “that these persons would sell paintings you stole in England, to wealthy buyers on the other side of the world?” Hazard said blandly, “That is correct, sir. To this end, I studied up on English painting and planned which ones I wished to take. I made New York my base of operations, and from there, I raised money for this trip, hired my three English friends, assembled my tools, got my passport—”

“A forged passport,” the inspector corrected him.

“And no doubt a few disguises.” Hazard nodded.

“Go on.”

“Then I had a stroke of luck,” Hazard said. “I saw an item in a New York newspaper saying that Martha Logan, the well-known historical novelist, would soon visit the private Carewe Museum in England.

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So I made it my business to be aboard the same plane as Mrs. Logan.” He smiled faintly in her direction.

Martha leaned forward, frowning and listening.

“It was quite simple to manage,” Hazard said. “In order to fi nd out the airline, date, hour, and fl ight number on which Mrs. Logan would fl y, I telephoned her publisher in New York. I represented myself as a reporter and said I wanted to interview her at takeoff, and have my photographer take pictures of her boarding the plane. We made an appointment for an interview, and I was given the fl ight information. Of course I never showed up for the interview. Instead, I purchased a ticket for myself for the same fl ight.

And then, once aboard the plane, I recognized Martha Logan from her photograph on the jackets of her books.”

Martha squirmed. “And then you contrived to worm out of me the date and hour when the Carewe Museum would he opened for me.”

“Exactly, my dear lady,” Hazard agreed.

“More than that,” Martha said in quiet anger, “you found out I was acquainted with the owner of a leading London art gallery. By entertaining me and my nurse at lunch, you connived to have me introduce you to the gallery owner, Pierre Selsam. I suppose it helped you to gain some inside information about how the gallery is operated.”

Hazard said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

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“Mr. Hazard,” said Inspector Forbes, “I shall read you a report from Scotland Yard, whose men have arrested your chauffeur and accomplice, Ben Egly, this afternoon in London. The Interpol dossier on you mentions Egly, as you noticed, and this was of help to the police.

Also, these ladies’ description of the ‘Shah’s’ chauffeur was of help.”

The inspector picked up another page and read:

“ ‘Egly stated this afternoon that shortly after Hazard visited the Selsam Gallery with the American ladies, he and Hazard burglarized the gallery during the night.’ ” Hazard turned pale but admitted nothing. The inspector continued:

“ ‘The London police have located the rolled-up paintings from the Selsam Gallery, wrapped in three packages, hidden in an East End warehouse where Egly’s cousin works, in an unused storage room under a blanket. Police also found there the paintings taken from the Carewe Museum.’ ” Hazard needed a minute or two to recover from the shock of this news. “What about Egly, Mr. Hazard?”

Hazard said grudgingly that Ben Egly, who lived in London, was skillful with tools and had a practical knowledge of his country’s laws, customs, and roads—which Hazard, a foreigner here, needed.

“I regard Ben Egly as coarse, ignorant, stupid though shrewd,” Hazard said, “but reliable enough if paid well. Not reliable enough to keep his mouth shut with the police. . . . After the Selsam burglary, I told 168
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him to keep out of sight and wait for my orders for the next job.”

“That was my job,” Ryder spoke up. But the inspector directed Hazard to go on. “We’ll get to you later, Ryder.”

Hazard said that early during his stay in London, he briefed his other two accomplices, young Mr. and Mrs. Ryder. Having read about the rare Shakespearean paintings being assembled at Stratford-upon-Avon, Hazard sent Rodney Ryder there to fi nd out which paintings were the most valuable. Ryder was also to fi nd out whether the paintings could be stolen in Stratford, or from the train en route to Edinburgh, or could more safely be stolen later from the exhibit hall in Edinburgh.

“To think,” Peter whispered to Cherry, “that I took him for a simpleton! For just a tennis partner!”

“That accounts for two burglaries you planned,” said the inspector to Hazard. “What about the Carewe Museum job?”

“That took careful preparation and timing,” Hazard admitted. During his fi rst day or two in London, he said, he saw on television the colorful Shah Liddy, who was an art collector, with his blond young English wife, arriving to visit England for three to four weeks.

In less than three weeks the Carewe Museum would be opened to Martha Logan. Wasn’t it believable that the Shah and his wife might unexpectedly visit the Carewe Museum? Very well, Hazard decided, he would impersonate the fl amboyant Shah. Egly would

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act as his chauffeur, and Ryder’s wife, young and blond, would pose as Lady Liddy. Assuming the identity of the Liddys was a risk—but a worthwhile one. He just had to take his chances that Carewe and the Liddys had never met.

So he instructed Jessica Ryder, who stayed on in London, to go to The Cat and Fiddle Inn near the Carewe Museum, just a few days before the planned theft, using a false name, Meg Greene. She was to study the country roads and terrain around there, where to abandon a traceable car, how to make the fastest getaway, and other information. On her solitary walks she sketched a map of roads and woods for Mr. Hazard, made a duplicate for Egly, and mailed the maps to Egly in London.

With his plans set in motion, Hazard had left London right after burglarizing the Selsam Gallery. He went to an obscure seaside resort, to think out the details of the Carewe plan, and to wait while the Ryders did their jobs.

Rodney Ryder reported back to him that it would be impossible to steal the Shakespearean paintings in Stratford or from the train; they would have to be stolen in Edinburgh. Hazard then sent Ryder to Edinburgh, to fi nd a hideout for them, and a go-between.

The inspector addressed Ryder. “You telephoned from here to your wife at The Cat and Fiddle Inn, rather than phoning this information to Hazard—is that correct?”

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“Yes, sir,” Ryder said. “Because Hazard had returned to London and was keeping under cover. My wife relayed it to him.”

In London, Hazard said under questioning, he rented a black Bentley as discreetly as possible, and obtained a false driver’s license. He bought disguising clothes, a white wig, and a false white beard for himself, some appropriate garments for Jessica Ryder, and a chauffeur’s uniform for Ben Egly. Egly, using a false name and a false driver’s license, bought for cash a secondhand, inconspicuous old sedan and changed its license plates. In this way Egly left no leads for the police later to trace the old sedan, which was to be the getaway car.

By now Jessica Ryder’s maps arrived. Hazard had already instructed her to meet him on a deserted road at nine thirty on the morning of the projected theft.

“Egly and I left London the day before the Carewe job,” Hazard said. “I wore my usual clothes, with a hat and sunglasses, and drove the Bentley. Egly was dressed as a workman and he drove the old sedan.”

“Yes, the Windermere police have reported that you apparently drove all day, traveling separately,” the inspector said, consulting another report. “And you and Egly stayed overnight, separately, at two of the lodginghouses along the highway.”

“Well, no one noticed us,” Hazard said with satisfaction. “Next morning we each started out early, and separately. Ben Egly drove the old sedan into the woods, put on the chauffeur’s uniform, and waited. I picked

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up Jessica Ryder on the road, in the Bentley, and we joined Egly in the woods. That’s where I put on the

‘Shah’s’ clothing and beard. Jessica changed from ‘Meg Greene’s’ tweed suit into ‘Lady Liddy’s’ fi ne clothes.

And then—” Hazard shrugged.

“Then the theft went off smoothly as planned,” the inspector supplied. “You abandoned the Bentley, and changed out of your disguises. I presume, Mr. Hazard, that Egly concealed the stolen Carewe paintings in the old sedan and drove them to London?” Hazard nodded. “And you traveled alone to Edinburgh?”

“The three of us scattered,” Hazard said, “since the police would be looking for a couple and another man.”

“Archie, if you tell where my wife is,” Ryder burst out, “I’ll make you regret it! Sooner or later!”

“Mr. Ryder,” said Inspector Forbes, “it will go easier for you if you tell us where she is.” Cherry, Martha, and Peter watched Ryder as he hesitated, nervously biting his lips. “I can’t do it,” he said.

“Mr. Hazard, you will cooperate and tell us,” the inspector directed.

“Well, Egly drove the sedan south toward London.

I—I fi gured the police could hardly suspect a workman driving an old car of having the Carewe treasures,” Hazard hedged. He avoided Ryder’s burning look. “Jessica Ryder was sitting on the fl oor in the back of the sedan so that she wouldn’t be seen. I’m not really sure where she—if she—”

“Get on with it, Hazard!” the inspector com-manded.

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“Egly was to let her out at Lancaster, the nearest big town,” Hazard said in a low voice. “From there she was to take a train to her mother’s house in—” He named a Midlands city as Sergeant Kerr restrained Rodney Ryder from hitting the older man.

The sergeant moved Ryder to a chair on the opposite side of the room. Inspector Forbes resumed:

“Describe your movements after the theft, Mr.

Hazard.”

“Well, I was dressed as myself again, and I left the woods on foot,” Hazard said. “I walked behind hedges down a country road, to where Jessica had told me I could hail a bus, at one of its pickup points. I changed to another bus at the nearest town, and kept changing buses and trains so that nobody would have much chance to notice me. I reached Edinburgh late Monday evening.” Hazard said regretfully, “Except that my wrenched ankle was beginning to swell and bother me, our plan was working out on schedule. I went to 26