MRS3 The Velvet Hand (21 page)

This was a discomforting thought. We made haste to go through our belongings, but everything, money, letter of credit, jewellery, private papers, everything was intact. Why should we have been drugged, if not for the purpose of robbery? We smiled at our fears.

"I expect it was just the bad air in the compartment," said Mme Storey.

We went to bed and thought no more about it.

Though we had had such a long sleep in the train, we slept all night, and awoke feeling quite ourselves again. We breakfasted, and afterwards Mme Storey got through to the Embassy on the telephone and reported our arrival. It was agreed that we had better not show ourselves there for the time being, and a very exalted personage signified his intention of waiting on us at our hotel. He came, and spent the balance of the morning with my mistress. What they talked about is not part of this story. Some day, perhaps. It was after he had gone, when we were thinking about lunch, that things began to happen.

There came a knock at the door of our sitting room, and in response to Mme Storey's summons one of the tiny bell boys entered. He looked scared out of his wits.

"Please, ma'am——" he began.

Before he could get any further two men pushed into the room: well-dressed, gentlemanly looking men with grim faces. Such was my first hurried impression.

Mme Storey arose in astonishment, and her eyes flashed. "Who are you?" she demanded of the first man. "What are you doing here?"

He was somewhat nonplussed, and well he might be. My mistress seemed to tower in her anger; her beauty became regal. I had never yet seen the man who could stand up to her when her eyes flashed like that; but this one kept his head. Before answering, he curtly nodded the boy out of the room and closed the door. Mme Storey, if possible, became angrier still, but not in the least afraid. I was terrified. The man said, producing a card:

"Inspector Battram; Scotland Yard."

Scotland Yard! At those words my heart went down into my boots. At first I suspected some machinations on the part of the clever scoundrel we had come to London to get. He must have tracked us somehow. Of course, whatever ridiculous charge he might have laid against us would quickly fail, but any publicity would wreck our plans, and he knew that. I was demoralized; but my extraordinary mistress smiled, and her anger evaporated like morning mist. She said, with a deprecatory air:

"I ought to have known you were no mere intruder. Sit down, Inspector. What does Scotland Yard want of me?"

The man's face was a study. Natural feelings were visibly struggling with official propriety. As a man he could not but be sensible of her beauty and grace; as a policeman he suspected she was trying to put something over on him. He was a handsome, manly looking fellow, well set up and keen. From the army, I guessed. He said stiffly:

"You and this lady are registered here as Mrs. Amory and Miss Jackson of Liverpool. Please show me some proof of your identity."

"What sort of proofs?" asked Mme Storey, sparring for time.

"Visiting cards; letters addressed to yourself; bank books; anything of that sort."

"But I haven't anything of that sort with me," said Mme Storey with a distressed air.

He nodded toward the telephone. "Then please call up somebody here in London who can come and identify you."

"I can't do that either."

"Hm," said the inspector, rubbing his moustache with an annoyed air. "Well, let that go for the moment. You travelled last night from Banchester to London by the train arriving at Paddington Station at eleven?"

"Yes," said Mme Storey.

By this time I began to understand that his visit had nothing to do with our mission in London. I was first relieved, then anxious again, wondering what could be in the wind now.

"Did anything unusual take place in your compartment?" he asked.

"Not that I know of," said Mme Storey. "I slept."

"The whole way?" he asked with a disagreeable smile.

"The whole way."

"And this lady?" he asked, turning to me.

"I also slept."

"Hm!" he said, exchanging a glance with his companion. "You must permit me to observe that this is very unusual."

"Very," said Mme Storey blandly. "That's what we said to each other." She warned me with a glance not to mention our thought that we might have been drugged. In his present frame of mind, such a suggestion thrown out by us would have confirmed the man's suspicions.

He was openly sarcastic now. "Did you take any note of the other persons who shared your compartment?" he asked.

"Yes," said Mme Storey. "Those at least who got on before we left Banchester." She proceeded to describe the lady, the young man, and the old man with the pot of pansies.

"Ah," he said; "and did you notice them when you left the train?"

"I noticed nothing then," said Mme Storey. "My secretary awoke me violently and hustled me out of the car before I had my eyes well open."

"And you?" he asked me.

"The lady was still sitting beside me," I said, "and the young man was opposite her. But the old man had got out."

"Oh, he had got out, had he?" he said meaningly.

His innuendoes, which I couldn't in the least comprehend, angered me, but I bit my lip and kept silent.

His eyes bored into us, first my mistress, then me. "Now," he said with the air of one who was springing a mine under us, "please explain how you came to leave the train at Westbourne Park instead of coming into Paddington, which is much nearer this hotel."

"I suspected there might be somebody watching for us at Paddington that I did not wish to see," said Mme Storey blandly.

This was hardly the answer he expected. "I thought you said you knew nobody in London," he said, with his eyebrows running up.

"But I did not say that. That was the construction you put on my words. I said I would not call on them to come here and identify me."

"Why not?"

"Because I am engaged on an affair of business that requires secrecy for the moment."

"Is Amory your right name?"

"It is not," said Mme Storey coolly.

"What is the nature of your business in London?"

"I must decline to answer that," she said politely.

"Come, madam!" he said indignantly. "You must know that you cannot trifle with the police. A serious crime has been committed, and I have the power to make you speak."

"What am I charged with?" she asked.

"You are not charged with anything. I merely wish to ask you some questions."

"I shall be delighted to answer any and all of your questions which do not involve my private affairs."

The handsome inspector was very angry now—and a little helpless. "You cannot have secrets from the police," he said fiercely.

Mme Storey merely smiled and opened her cigarette case. "Have one?" she said. He stiffly declined, whereupon my mistress lighted up deliberately and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. "What am I suspected of?"

"I think you know," he said meaningly. "The suggestion that you and your secretary—if this is your secretary—slept throughout the journey is incredible."

"Well, if you will have it so!" said Mme Storey, shrugging.

"For the last time I ask you——" he began.

My mistress interrupted him with a disarming smile. "We must not quarrel," said she; "I'm sure we're all very nice people. We have more in common than you suspect. I have no idea what the crime is that you refer to, but, frankly, do I look as if I had committed it?"

He dropped the official air and revealed himself as just a nice man. "God forbid!" he said earnestly. "That's what makes your present conduct so hard to understand," he added, grumbling.

"But my conduct is perfectly natural," said Mme Storey. "I have told you the truth from the first. It is of the greatest importance to keep my presence in London a secret for a day or two. I suggest that you arrest me and my secretary and lock us up for as long as you may see fit—it will be interesting to us to see how you do things over here."

"Ah, an American!" he put in.

"You must have guessed that from my speech.... But I ask you not to make any search of my private papers, say, for twenty-four hours. By that time I am confident that, with the famous efficiency of your department, you will have discovered the real criminal and there will be no further occasion to bother with us. It's a sporting offer, isn't it?"

"An unusual one," he said, smiling.

"Ah, but I can see that you are an unusual officer," she said beguilingly. "You and I ought to be friends."

"Very well," he said, "if you and this lady will accompany me to Scotland Yard, I will seal these rooms and will agree not to disturb the contents for twenty-four hours."

"Splendid!" said Mme Storey. "Let me get my hat. I'll leave the door open."

At the door of the hotel the inspector handed us into a taxicab with the greatest gallantry. One would never have supposed that we were being carried off to the hoosegow. Battram was a very attractive man, and I could see that my mistress was fully aware of it. In my mind I compared him with our old friend Inspector Rumsey of the New York police. What a contrast! As far as looks and manner went, fat little Rumsey was nowhere; but I suspected he was none the worse policeman than this other.

As our cab skirted the edge of Trafalgar Square, newsboys came running along the pavements crying an extra. In London the boys carry large posters advertising the headlines—you can read them a block off, and I read on these posters:

HORRIBLE MURDER
ON THE
G.W.R.

"Could that be it?" I whispered to Mme Storey.

She nodded. "Possibly. We travelled on the G.W.R."

A moment or two later we were held up by the traffic. Mme Storey leaned out and, summoning one of the boys to the window, bought a paper. Inspector Battram made no move to interfere. While she read it, he watched her, grimly stroking his moustache. I knew from his manner that this must be the crime in question. I read the story over her shoulder.

"Miles Ockley, a shepherd of Moale in the Vale of Sturton, started out at dawn this morning to drive his flock to an upland pasture. In passing under a beech tree close to the lofty viaduct of the G.W.R. a drop of moisture fell upon his hand, though the sky was clear; and in the half light he was shocked to discover that it was blood. Upon looking up he saw a broken human body lodged in the forks of the tree. Obviously it had fallen from a passing train.

"The shepherd summoned help; and a party of men from the village lowered the remains to the ground with ropes. The body was that of a man near seventy years of age dressed in a brown tweed suit and blue Melton overcoat. Over the great coat was worn an ample tweed cape of a style rarely seen nowadays. His clothing, while old-fashioned in cut, was of excellent materials, and the body was well nourished, indicating that the unfortunate man had been in good circumstances. A round tweed hat was found near by, also a blue and white striped worsted muffler and a pair of spectacles. The latter, strange to say, were still unbroken.

"Nothing was found in the pockets of the corpse except 7s 9d, and a linen handkerchief bearing the initials H.S. or S.H. The absence of a pocketbook immediately pointed to foul play. His back had been broken in the fall, and it was at first supposed that that was the cause of death. However, the local doctor, who arrived somewhat later on the scene and made a more careful examination of the body, discovered a stab wound which had pierced the heart. The unfortunate gentleman was therefore killed before he was thrown out of the train. Life had been extinct for several hours.

"A systematized search of the surrounding area finally resulted in the discovery of the weapon. This was an ordinary pocketknife of large size with a single blade 3-½ inches along, and a handle faced with black horn. Such knives are to be found in the pockets of five workmen out of six. It had no distinguishing marks whatever; but the blade was dull and rusty, as from long disuse. It was found buried in leaves, close to the tree, indicating that it was still sticking in the old man's breast when he was flung from the train.

"The body was removed to a private undertaking establishment in the town of Stanford, where the inquest will be held during the day. The details were telegraphed to Scotland Yard, whereupon the victim was immediately identified as Mr. Sims Hendrie, F.R.S., the famous chemist whose name is associated with Hendrianum and other important discoveries.

"It appears that Mr. Hendrie left his home, Lorne Lodge, Banchester, at half-past seven last night in order to travel by the eight o'clock train to Paddington. A somewhat wilful old gentleman, he insisted on going to the station unattended, and would not call a cab, but took a tram. A curious feature of the sad affair is that he had been often heard to express a fear of being attacked in a railway carriage. He always travelled third class, because, he said, the first-class carriages were too solitary. He had intended to take a day train to London but was detained by the necessity of visiting his laboratory yesterday afternoon.

"Mr. Hendrie's purpose in coming to London (which, latterly, he rarely visited) was to address a meeting of the Royal Society this afternoon. He was expected to make an important announcement in respect to his recent researches. His confrère Sir Egerton Pulford (whose guest he was to be) went to meet him at eleven o'clock at Paddington. When he failed to get off the train Sir Egerton telegraphed to Banchester asking what was the matter, and presently received an answer stating that Mr. Hendrie had taken the eight o'clock train. Sir Egerton immediately lodged information with Scotland Yard, and it was thus that the identity of the victim came to be established.

"Mr. Hendrie carried a wallet containing various private papers, and ten new £5 notes. As he had drawn this money from the bank only yesterday, it was possible to obtain the numbers of the notes without any loss of time. The police are also in possession of a description of the papers in the wallet so far as known. Mr. Hendrie's Gladstone bag, which constituted his only luggage, was found in the Unclaimed Articles Office at Paddington. It was picked up in the carriage by a guard. The contents had not been disturbed. An examination of the compartment in which he had travelled revealed the presence of drops of blood on the floor, but not in sufficient quantity to have attracted attention earlier.