The Secret of Chimneys (Superintendent Battle 1)

Anthony looked at her.

“You’re rather a devil, Virginia,” he said dispassionately. “But rather a dear too.”

Then he waved his hand airily to Superintendent Battle.

“Caught any criminals this morning, Battle?”

“Not as yet, Mr. Cade.”

“That sounds hopeful.”

Battle with an agility surprising in so stolid a man, vaulted out of the library window and joined them on the terrace.

“I’ve got Professor Wynwood down here,” he announced in a whisper. “Just this minute arrived. He’s decoding the letters now. Would you like to see him at work?”

His tone suggested that of the showman speaking of some pet exhibit. Receiving a reply in the affirmative, he led them up to the window and invited them to peep inside.

Seated at a table, the letters spread out in front of him and writing busily on a big sheet of paper, was a small red-haired man of middle age. He grunted irritably to himself as he wrote and every now and then rubbed his nose violently until its hue almost rivalled that of his hair.

Presently he looked up.

“That you, Battle? What do you want me down here to unravel this tomfoolery for? A child in arms could do it. A baby of two could do it on his head. Call this thing a cipher? It leaps to the eye, man.”

“I’m glad of that, Professor,” said Battle mildly. “But we’re not all so clever as you are, you know.”

“It doesn’t need cleverness,” snapped the professor. “It’s routine work. Do you want the whole bundle done? It’s a long business, you know—requires diligent application and close attention and absolutely no intelligence. I’ve done the one dated ‘Chimneys’ which you said was important. I might as well take the rest back to London and hand ’em over to one of my assistants. I really can’t afford the time myself. I’ve come away now from a real teaser, and I want to get back to it.”

His eyes glistened a little.

“Very well, Professor,” assented Battle. “I’m sorry we’re such small-fry. I’ll explain to Mr. Lomax. It’s just this one letter that all the hurry is about. Lord Caterham is expecting you to stay for lunch, I believe.”

“Never have lunch,” said the professor. “Bad habit, lunch. A banana and a water biscuit is all any sane and healthy man should need in the middle of the day.”

He seized his overcoat, which lay across the back of a chair. Battle went round to the front of the house, and a few minutes later Anthony and Virginia heard the sound of a car driving away.

Battle rejoined them, carrying in his hand the half sheet of paper which the Professor had given him.

“He’s always like that,” said Battle, referring to the departed professor. “In the very deuce of a hurry. Clever man, though. Well, here’s the kernel of Her Majesty’s letter. Care to have a look at it?”

Virginia stretched out a hand, and Anthony read it over her shoulder. It had been, he remembered, a long epistle, breathing mingled passion and despair. The genius of Professor Wynwood had transformed it into an essentially businesslike communication.

Operations carried out successfully, but S double-crossed us. Has removed stone from hiding place. Not in his room. I have searched. Found following memorandum which I think refers to it: RICHMOND SEVEN STRAIGHT EIGHT LEFT THREE RIGHT.

“S?” said Anthony. “Stylptitch, of course. Cunning old dog. He changed the hiding place.”

“Richmond,” said Virginia thoughtfully. “Is the diamond concealed somewhere at Richmond, I wonder?”

“It’s a favourite spot for royalties,” agreed Anthony.

Battle shook his head.

“I still think it’s a reference to something in this house.”

“I know,” cried Virginia suddenly.

Both men turned to look at her.

“The Holbein portrait in the Council Chamber. They were tapping on the wall just below it. And it’s a portrait of the Earl of Richmond!”

“You’ve got it,” said Battle, and slapped his leg.

He spoke with an animation quite unwonted.

“That’s the starting point, the picture, and the crooks know no more than we do what the figures refer to. Those two men in armour stand directly underneath the picture, and their first idea was that the diamond was hidden in one of them. The measurements might have been inches. That failed, and their next idea was a secret passage or stairway, or a sliding panel. Do you know of any such thing, Mrs. Revel?”

Virginia shook her head.

“There’s a priest’s hole, and at least one secret passage, I know,” she said. “I believe I’ve been shown them once, but I can’t remember much about them now. Here’s Bundle, she’ll know.”

Bundle was coming quickly along the terrace towards them.

“I’m taking the Panhard up to town after lunch,” she remarked. “Anyone want a lift? Wouldn’t you like to come, Mr. Cade? We’ll be back by dinnertime.”

“No, thanks,” said Anthony. “I’m quite happy and busy down here.”

“The man fears me,” said Bundle. “Either my driving or my fatal fascination! Which is it?”

“The latter,” said Anthony. “Every time.”

“Bundle, dear,” said Virginia, “is there any secret passage leading out of the Council Chamber?”

“Rather. But it’s only a mouldy one. Supposed to lead from Chimneys to Wyvern Abbey. So it did in the old, old days, but it’s all blocked up now. You can only get along it for about a hundred yards from this end. The one upstairs in the White Gallery is ever so much more amusing, and the priest’s hole isn’t half bad.”

“We’re not regarding them from an artistic standpoint,” explained Virginia. “It’s business. How do you get into the Council Chamber one?”

“Hinged panel. I’ll show it you after lunch if you like.”

“Thank you,” said Superintendent Battle. “Shall we say at 2:30?”

Bundle looked at him with lifted eyebrows.

“Crook stuff?” she inquired.

Tredwell appeared on the terrace.

Luncheon is served, my lady,” he announced.

Twenty-three

ENCOUNTER IN THE ROSE GARDEN

At 2:30 a little party met together in the Council Chamber: Bundle, Virginia, Superintendent Battle, M. Lemoine and Anthony Cade.

“No good waiting until we can get hold of Mr. Lomax,” said Battle. “This is the kind of business one wants to get on with quickly.”

“If you’ve got any idea that Prince Michael was murdered by someone who got in this way, you’re wrong,” said Bundle. “It can’t be done. The other end’s blocked completely.”

“There is no question of that, milady,” said Lemoine quickly. “It is quite a different search that we make.”

“Looking for something, are you?” asked Bundle quickly. “Not the historic whatnot, by any chance?”

Lemoine looked puzzled.

“Explain yourself, Bundle,” said Virginia encouragingly. “You can when you try.”

“The thingummybob,” said Bundle. “The historic diamond of purple princes that was pinched in the dark ages before I grew to years of discretion.”

“Who told you this, Lady Eileen?” asked Battle.

“I’ve always known. One of the footmen told me when I was twelve years old.”

“A footman,” said Battle. “Lord! I’d like Mr. Lomax to have heard that!”

“Is it one of George’s closely guarded secrets?” asked Bundle. “How perfectly screaming! I never really thought it was true. George always was an ass—he must know that servants know everything.”

She went across to the Holbein portrait, touched a spring concealed somewhere at the side of it, and immediately, with a creaking noise, a section of the panelling swung inwards, revealing a dark opening.

“Entrez, messieurs et mesdames,” said Bundle dramatically. “Walk up, walk up, walk up, dearies. Best show of the season, and only a tanner.”

Both Lemoine and

Battle were provided with torches. They entered the dark aperture first, the others close on their heels.

“Air’s nice and fresh,” remarked Battle. “Must be ventilated somehow.”

He walked on ahead. The floor was rough uneven stone, but the walls were bricked. As Bundle had said, the passage extended for a bare hundred yards. Then it came to an abrupt end with a fallen heap of masonry. Battle satisfied himself that there was no way of egress beyond, and then spoke over his shoulder.

“We’ll go back, if you please. I wanted just to spy out the land, so to speak.”

In a few minutes they were back again at the panelled entrance.

“We’ll start from here,” said Battle. “Seven straight, eight left, three right. Take the first as paces.”

He paced seven steps carefully, and bending down examined the ground.

“About right, I should fancy. At one time or another, there’s been a chalk mark made here. Now then, eight left. That’s not paces, the passage is only wide enough to go Indian file, anyway.”

“Say it in bricks,” suggested Anthony.

“Quite right, Mr. Cade. Eight bricks from the bottom or the top on the left-hand side. Try from the bottom first—it’s easier.”

He counted up eight bricks.

“Now three to the right of that. One, two, three—Hullo—Hullo, what’s this?”

“I shall scream in a minute,” said Bundle, “I know I shall. What is it?”

Superintendent Battle was working at the brick with the point of his knife. His practised eye had quickly seen that this particular brick was different from the rest. A minute or two’s work, and he was able to pull it right out. Behind was a small dark cavity. Battle thrust in his hand.