The Seven Dials Mystery (20 page)

“Tell me, what has happened?” she demanded briskly.

“We were hoping you might be able to tell us that,” said Superintendent Battle.

The Countess looked at him sharply. She seemed to become aware of the big, quiet man for the first time.

“I went to your room,” said Bundle. “The bed hadn't been slept in and you weren't there.”

She paused—looking accusingly at the Countess. The latter closed her eyes and nodded her head slowly.

“Yes, yes, I remember it all now. Oh, it was horrible!” She shuddered. “Do you want me to tell you?”

Superintendent Battle said, “If you please” at the same moment that Bill said, “Not if you don't feel up to it.”

The Countess looked from one to the other, but the quiet, masterful eye of Superintendent Battle won the game.

“I could not sleep,” began the Countess. “The house—it oppressed me. I was all, as you say, on wires, the cat on the hot bricks. I knew that in the state I was in it was useless to think of going to bed. I walked about my room. I read. But the books placed there did not interest me greatly. I thought I would come down and find something more absorbing.”

“Very natural,” said Bill.

“Very often done, I believe,” said Battle.

“So as soon as the idea occurred to me, I left my room and came down. The house was very still—”

“Excuse me,” interrupted the Superintendent, “but can you give me an idea of the time when this occurred?”

“I never know the time,” said the Countess superbly, and swept on with her story.

“The house was very quiet. One could even hear the little mouse run, if there had been one. I come down the stairs—very quietly—”

“Very quietly?”

“Naturally I do not want to disturb the household,” said the Countess reproachfully. “I come in here. I go into this corner and I search the shelves for a suitable book.”

“Having of course switched on the light?”

“No, I did not switch on the light. I had, you see, my little electric torch with me. With that, I scanned the shelves.”

“Ah!” said the Superintendent.

“Suddenly,” continued the Countess dramatically, “I hear something. A stealthy sound. A muffled footstep. I switch out my torch and listen. The footsteps draw nearer—stealthy, horrible footsteps. I shrink behind the screen. In another minute the door opens and the light is switched on. The man—the burglar is in the room.”

“Yes, but I say—” began Mr. Thesiger.

A large-sized foot pressed his, and realizing that Superintendent Battle was giving him a hint, Jimmy shut up.

“I nearly died of fear,” continued the Countess. “I tried not to breathe. The man waited for a minute, listening. Then, still with that horrible, stealthy tread—”

Again Jimmy opened his mouth in protest, and again shut it.

“—he crossed to the window and peered out. He remained there for a minute or two, then he recrossed the room and turned out the lights again, locking the door. I am terrified. He is in the room, moving stealthily about in the dark. Ah, it is horrible. Suppose he should come upon me in the dark! In another minute I hear him again by the window. Then silence. I hope that perhaps he may have gone out that way. As the minutes pass and I hear no further sound, I am almost sure that he has done so. Indeed I am in the very act of switching on my torch and investigating when—
prestissimo!
—it all begins.”

“Yes?”

“Ah! But it was terrible—never—never shall I forget it! Two men trying to murder each other. Oh, it was horrible! They reeled about the room, and furniture crashed in every direction. I thought, too, that I heard a woman scream—but that was not in the room. It was outside somewhere. The criminal had a hoarse voice. He croaked rather than spoke. He kept saying ‘Lemme go—lemme go.' The other man was a gentleman. He had a cultured English voice.”

Jimmy looked gratified.

“He swore—mostly,” continued the Countess.

“Clearly a gentleman,” said Superintendent Battle.

“And then,” continued the Countess, “a flash and a shot. The bullet hit the bookcase beside me. I—I suppose I must have fainted.”

She looked up at Bill. He took her hand and patted it.

“You poor dear,” he said. “How rotten for you.”

“Silly idiot,” thought Bundle.

Superintendent Battle had moved on swift, noiseless feet over to the bookcase a little to the right of the screen. He bent down, searching. Presently he stooped and picked something up.

“It wasn't a bullet, Countess,” he said. “It's the shell of the cartridge. Where were you standing when you fired, Mr. Thesiger.”

Jimmy took up a position by the window.

“As nearly as I can see, about here.”

Superintendent Battle placed himself in the same spot.

“That's right,” he agreed. “The empty shell would throw right rear. It's a .455. I don't wonder the Countess thought it was a bullet in the dark. It hit the bookcase about a foot from her. The bullet itself grazed the window frame and we'll find it outside tomorrow—unless your assailant happens to be carrying it about in him.”

Jimmy shook his head regretfully.

“Leopold, I fear, did not cover himself with glory,” he remarked sadly.

The Countess was looking at him with most flattering attention.

“Your arm!” she exclaimed. “It is all tied up! Was it you then—?”

Jimmy made her a mock bow.

“I'm so glad I've got a cultured, English voice,” he said. “And I can assure you that I wouldn't have dreamed of using the language I did if I had had any suspicion that a lady was present.”

“I did not understand all of it,” the Countess hastened to explain. “Although I had an English governess when I was young—”

“It isn't the sort of thing she'd be likely to teach you,” agreed Jimmy. “Kept you busy with your uncle's pen, and the umbrella of the gardener's niece. I know the sort of stuff.”

“But what has happened?” asked the Countess. “That is what I want to know. I demand to know what has happened.”

There was a moment's silence whilst everybody looked at Superintendent Battle.

“It's very simple,” said Battle mildly. “Attempted robbery. Some political papers stolen from Sir Stanley Digby. The thieves nearly got away with them, but thanks to this young lady”—he indicated Loraine—“they didn't.”

The Countess flashed a glance at the girl—rather an odd glance.

“Indeed,” she said coldly.

“A very fortunate coincidence that she happened to be there,” said Superintendent Battle, smiling.

The Countess gave a little sigh and half closed her eyes again.

“It is absurd, but I still feel extremely faint,” she murmured.

“Of course you do,” cried Bill. “Let me help you up to your room. Bundle will come with you.”

“It is very kind of Lady Eileen,” said the Countess, “but I should prefer to be alone. I am really quite all right. Perhaps you will just help me up the stairs.”

She rose to her feet, accepted Bill's arm and, leaning heavily on it, went out of the room. Bundle followed as far as the hall, but, the Countess reiterating her assurance—with some tartness—that she was quite all right, she did not accompany them upstairs.

But as she stood watching the Countess's graceful form, supported by Bill, slowly mounting the stairway, she stiffened suddenly to acute attention. The Countess's negligée, as previously mentioned, was thin—a mere veil of orange chiffon. Through it Bundle saw distinctly below the right shoulder blade
a small black mole.

With a gasp, Bundle swung impetuously round to where Superintendent Battle was just emerging from the library. Jimmy and Loraine had preceded him.

“There,” said Battle. “I've fastened the window and there will be a man on duty outside. And I'll lock the door and take the key. In the morning we'll do what the French call reconstruct the crime—Yes, Lady Eileen, what is it?”

“Superintendent Battle, I must speak with you,—at once.”

“Why, certainly, I—”

George Lomax suddenly appeared, Dr. Cartwright by his side.

“Ah, there you are, Battle. You'll be relieved to hear that there's nothing seriously wrong with O'Rourke.”

“I never thought there would be much wrong with Mr. O'Rourke,” said Battle.

“He's had a strong hypodermic administered to him,” said the doctor. “He'll wake perfectly all right in the morning, perhaps a bit of a head, perhaps not. Now then, young man, let's look at this bullet wound of yours.”

“Come on, nurse,” said Jimmy to Loraine. “Come and hold the basin or my hand. Witness a strong man's agony. You know the stunt.”

Jimmy, Loraine and the doctor went off together. Bundle continued to throw agonized glances in the direction of Superintendent Battle, who had been buttonholed by George.

The Superintendent waited patiently till a pause occurred in George's loquacity. He then swiftly took advantage of it.

“I wonder, sir, if I might have a word privately with Sir Stanley? In the little study at the end there.”

“Certainly,” said George. “Certainly. I'll go and fetch him at once.”

He hurried off upstairs again. Battle drew Bundle swiftly into the drawing room and shut the door.

“Now, Lady Eileen, what is it?”

“I'll tell you as quickly as I can—but it's rather long and complicated.”

As concisely as she could, Bundle related her introduction to the Seven Dials Club and her subsequent adventures there. When she had finished, Superintendent Battle drew a long breath. For once, his facial woodenness was laid aside.

“Remarkable,” he said. “Remarkable. I wouldn't have believed it possible—even for you, Lady Eileen. I ought to have known better.”

“But you did give me a hint, Superintendent Battle. You told me to ask Bill Eversleigh.”

“It's dangerous to give people like you a hint, Lady Eileen. I never dreamt of your going to the lengths you have.”

“Well, it's all right, Superintendent Battle. My death doesn't lie at your door.”

“Not yet, it doesn't,” said Battle grimly.

He stood as though in thought, turning things over in his mind. “What Mr. Thesiger was about, letting you run into danger like that, I can't think,” he said presently.

“He didn't know till afterwards,” said Bundle. “I'm not a complete mug, Superintendent Battle. And, anyway, he's got his hands full looking after Miss Wade.”

“Is that so?” said the Superintendent. “Ah!”

He twinkled a little.

“I shall have to detail Mr. Eversleigh to look after you, Lady Eileen.”

“Bill!” said Bundle contemptuously. “But, Superintendent Battle, you haven't heard the end of my story. The woman I saw there—Anna—No 1. Yes, No 1 is the Countess Radzky.”

And rapidly she went on to describe her recognition of the mole.

To her surprise the Superintendent hemmed and hawed.

“A mole isn't much to go upon, Lady Eileen. Two women might have an identical mole very easily. You must remember that the Countess Radzky is a very well-known figure in Hungary.”

“Then this isn't the real Countess Radzky. I tell you I'm sure this is the same woman I saw there. And look at her tonight—the way we found her. I don't believe she ever fainted at all.”

“Oh, I shouldn't say that, Lady Eileen. That empty shell striking the bookcase beside her might have frightened any woman half out of her wits.”

“But what was she doing there anyway? One doesn't come down to look for a book with an electric torch.”

Battle scratched his cheek. He seemed unwilling to speak. He began to pace up and down the room, as though making up his mind. At last he turned to the girl.

“See here, Lady Eileen, I'm going to trust you. The Countess's conduct
is
suspicious. I know that as well as you do. It's very suspicious—but we've got to go carefully. There mustn't be any unpleasantness with the Embassies. One has got to be
sure.
”

“I see. If you were
sure
. . .”

“There's something else. During the war, Lady Eileen, there was a great outcry about German spies being left at large. Busybodies wrote letters to the papers about it. We paid no attention. Hard words didn't hurt us. The small fry were left alone. Why? Because through them, sooner or later,
we got the big fellow—the man at the top.
”

“You mean?”

“Don't bother about what I mean, Lady Eileen. But remember this.
I know all about the Countess.
And I want her let alone.”

“And now,” added Superintendent Battle ruefully, “I've got to think of something to say to Sir Stanley Digby!”

Twenty-three

S
UPERINTENDENT
B
ATTLE
IN
C
HARGE

I
t was ten o'clock on the following morning. The sun poured in through the windows of the library, where Superintendent Battle had been at work since six. On a summons from him, George Lomax, Sir Oswald Coote and Jimmy Thesiger had just joined him, having repaired the fatigues of the night with a substantial breakfast. Jimmy's arm was in a sling, but he bore little trace of the night's affray.

The Superintendent eyed all three of them benevolently, somewhat with the air of a kindly curator explaining a museum to little boys. On the table beside him were various objects, neatly labelled. Amongst them Jimmy recognized Leopold.

“Ah, Superintendent,” said George, “I have been anxious to know how you have progressed. Have you caught the man?”

“He'll take a lot of catching, he will,” said the Superintendent.

His failure in that respect did not appear to rankle with him.