“And what about me?” asked Loraine in a small, meek voice.
“You’re not on in this act,” said Jimmy instantly. “See? After all, we’ve got to have someone outside to—er—”
“To what?” said Loraine.
Jimmy decided not to pursue this tack. He appealed to Bundle.
“Look here,” he said, “Loraine must keep out of this, mustn’t she?”
“I certainly think she’d better.”
“Next time,” said Jimmy kindly.
“And suppose there isn’t a next time?” said Loraine.
“Oh, there probably will be. Not a doubt of it.”
“I see. I’m just to go home and—wait.”
“That’s it,” said Jimmy, with every appearance of relief. “I thought you’d understand.”
“You see,” explained Bundle, “three of us forcing our way in might look rather suspicious. And you would be particularly difficult. You do see that, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” said Loraine.
“Then it’s settled—you do nothing,” said Jimmy.
“I do nothing,” said Loraine meekly.
Bundle looked at her in sudden suspicion. The tameness with which Loraine was taking it seemed hardly natural. Loraine looked at her. Her eyes were blue and guileless. They met Bundle’s without a quiver even of the lashes. Bundle was only partly satisfied. She found the meekness of Loraine Wade highly suspicious.
Ten
BUNDLE VISITS SCOTLAND YARD
Now it may be said at once that in the foregoing conversation each one of the three participants had, as it were, held something in reserve. That “Nobody tells everything” is a very true motto.
It may be questioned, for instance, if Loraine Wade was perfectly sincere in her account of the motives which had led her to seek out Jimmy Thesiger.
In the same way, Jimmy Thesiger himself had various ideas and plans connected with the forthcoming party at George Lomax’s which he had no intention of revealing to—say, Bundle.
And Bundle herself had a fully-fledged plan which she proposed to put into immediate execution and which she had said nothing whatever about.
On leaving Jimmy Thesiger’s rooms, she drove to Scotland Yard, where she asked for Superintendent Battle.
Superintendent Battle was rather a big man. He worked almost entirely on cases of a delicate political nature. On such a case he had come to Chimneys four years ago, and Bundle was frankly trading on his remembering this fact.
After a short delay, she was taken along several corridors and into the Superintendent’s private room. Battle was a stolid-looking man with a wooden face. He looked supremely unintelligent and more like a commissionaire than a detective.
He was standing by the window when she entered, gazing in an expressionless manner at some sparrows.
“Good afternoon, Lady Eileen,” he said. “Sit down, won’t you?”
“Thank you,” said Bundle. “I was afraid you mightn’t remember me.”
“Always remember people,” said Battle. He added: “Got to in my job.”
“Oh!” said Bundle, rather damped.
“And what can I do for you?” inquired the Superintendent.
Bundle came straight to the point.
“I’ve always heard that you people at Scotland Yard have lists of all secret societies and things like that that are formed in London.”
“We try to keep up to date,” said Superintendent Battle cautiously.
“I suppose a great many of them aren’t really dangerous.”
“We’ve got a very good rule to go by,” said Battle. “The more they talk, the less they’ll do. You’d be surprised how well that works out.”
“And I’ve heard that very often you let them go on?”
Battle nodded.
“That’s so. Why shouldn’t a man call himself a Brother of Liberty and meet twice a week in a cellar and talk about rivers of blood—it won’t hurt either him or us. And if there is trouble any time, we know where to lay our hands on him.”
“But sometimes, I suppose,” said Bundle slowly, “a society may be more dangerous than anyone imagines?”
“Very unlikely,” said Battle.
“But it might happen,” persisted Bundle.
“Oh, it might,” admitted the Superintendent.
There was a moment or two’s silence. Then Bundle said quietly:
“Superintendent Battle, could you give me a list of secret societies that have their headquarters in Seven Dials?”
It was Superintendent Battle’s boast that he had never been seen to display emotion. But Bundle could have sworn that just for a moment his eyelids flickered and he looked taken back. Only for a moment, however. He was his usual wooden self as he said:
“Strictly speaking, Lady Eileen, there’s no such place as Seven Dials nowadays.”
“No?”
“No. Most of it is pulled down and rebuilt. It was rather a low quarter once, but it’s very respectable and high class nowadays. Not at all a romantic spot to poke about in for mysterious secret societies.”
“Oh!” said Bundle, rather nonplussed.
“But all the same I should very much like to know what put that neighbourhood into your head, Lady Eileen.”
“Have I got to tell you?”
“Well, it saves trouble, doesn’t it? We know where we are, so to speak.”
Bundle hesitated for a minute.
“There was a man shot yesterday,” she said slowly. “I thought I had run over him—”
“Mr. Ronald Devereux?”
“You know about it, of course. Why has there been nothing in the papers?”
“Do you really want to know that, Lady Eileen?”
“Yes, please.”
“Well, we just thought we should like to have a clear twenty-four hours—see? It will be in the papers tomorrow.”
“Oh!” Bundle studied him, puzzled.
What was hidden behind that immovable face? Did he regard the shooting of Ronald Devereux as an ordinary crime or as an extraordinary on
e?
“He mentioned Seven Dials when he was dying,” said Bundle slowly.
“Thank you,” said Battle. “I’ll make a note of that.”
He wrote a few words on the blotting pad in front of him.
Bundle started on another tack.
“Mr. Lomax, I understand, came to see you yesterday about a threatening letter he had had.”
“He did.”
“And that was written from Seven Dials.”
“It had Seven Dials written at the top if it, I believe.”
Bundle felt as though she was battering hopelessly on a locked door.
“If you’ll let me advise you, Lady Eileen—”
“I know what you’re going to say.”
“I should go home and—well, think no more about these matters.”
“Leave it to you, in fact?”
“Well,” said Superintendent Battle, “after all, we are the professionals.”
“And I’m only an amateur? Yes, but you forget one thing—I mayn’t have your knowledge and skill—but I have one advantage over you. I can work in the dark.”
She thought that the Superintendent seemed a little taken aback, as though the force of her words struck home.
“Of course,” said Bundle, “if you won’t give me a list of secret societies—”
“Oh! I never said that. You shall have a list of the whole lot.”
He went to the door, put his head through and called out something, then came back to his chair. Bundle, rather unreasonably, felt baffled. The ease with which he acceded to her request seemed to her suspicious. He was looking at her now in a placid fashion.
“Do you remember the death of Mr. Gerald Wade?” she asked abruptly.
“Down at your place, wasn’t it? Took an overdraught of sleeping mixture.”
“His sister says he never took things to make him sleep.”
“Ah!” said the Superintendent. “You’d be surprised what a lot of things there are that sisters don’t know.”
Bundle again felt baffled. She sat in silence till a man came in with a typewritten sheet of paper, which he handed to the Superintendent.
“Here you are,” said the latter when the other had left the room. “The Blood Brothers of St. Sebastian. The Wolf Hounds. The Comrades of Peace. The Comrades Club. The Friends of Oppression. The Children of Moscow. The Red Standard Bearers. The Herrings. The Comrades of the Fallen—and half a dozen more.”