The Seven Dials Mystery (Superintendent Battle 2)

“What’s the matter?” asked Bundle.

Jimmy explained the circumstances of the pistol throwing.

“I’m wondering,” he ended, “what was in old Battle’s mind when he got Coote to throw the pistol. Something, I’ll swear. Anyhow, it landed up about ten yards farther than it should have done. You know, Bundle, Battle’s a deep one.”

“He’s an extraordinary man,” said Bundle. “I want to tell you about last night.”

She retailed her conversation with the Superintendent. Jimmy listened attentively.

“So the Countess is No 1,” he said thoughtfully. “It all hangs together very well. No 2—Bauer—comes over from Chimneys. He climbs up into O’Rourke’s room, knowing that O’Rourke has had a sleeping draught administered to him—by the Countess somehow or other. The arrangement is that he is to throw the papers to the Countess, who will be waiting below. Then she’ll nip back through the library and up to her room. If Bauer’s caught leaving the grounds, they’ll find nothing on him. Yes, it was a good plan—but it went wrong. No sooner is the Countess in the library than she hears me coming and has to jump behind the screen. Jolly awkward for her, because she can’t warn her accomplice. No 2 pinches the papers, looks out of the window, sees, as he thinks, the Countess waiting, pitches the papers down to her and proceeds to climb down the ivy, where he finds a nasty surprise in the shape of me waiting for him. Pretty nervy work for the Countess waiting behind her screen. All things considered, she told a pretty good story. Yes, it all hangs together very well.”

“Too well,” said Bundle decidedly.

“Eh?” said Jimmy surprised.

“What about No 7—No 7, who never appears, but lives in the background. The Countess and Bauer? No, it’s not so simple as that. Bauer was here last night, yes. But he was only here in case things went wrong—as they have done. His part is the part of scapegoat; to draw all attention from No 7—the boss.”

“I say, Bundle,” said Jimmy anxiously, “you haven’t been reading too much sensational literature, have you?”

Bundle threw him a glance of dignified reproach.

“Well,” said Jimmy, “I’m not yet like the Red Queen. I can’t believe six impossible things before breakfast.”

“It’s after breakfast,” said Bundle.

“Or even after breakfast. We’ve got a perfectly good hypothesis which fits the facts—and you won’t have it at any price, simply because, like the old riddle, you want to make things more difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bundle, “but I cling passionately to a mysterious No 7 being a member of the house party.”

“What does Bill think?”

“Bill,” said Bundle coldly, “is impossible.”

“Oh!” said Jimmy. “I suppose you’ve told him about the Countess? He ought to be warned. Heaven knows what he’ll go blabbing about otherwise.”

“He won’t hear a word against her,” said Bundle. “He’s—oh, simply idiotic. I wish you’d drive it home to him about that mole.”

“You forget I wasn’t in the cupboard,” said Jimmy. “And anyway I’d rather not argue with Bill about his lady friend’s mole. But surely he can’t be such an ass as not to see that everything fits in?”

“He’s every kind of ass,” said Bundle bitterly. “You made the greatest mistake, Jimmy, in ever telling him at all.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jimmy. “I didn’t see it at the time—but I do now. I was a fool, but dash it all, old Bill—”

“You know what foreign adventuresses are,” said Bundle. “How they get hold of one.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” said Jimmy. “One has never tried to get hold of me.” And he sighed.

For a moment or two there was silence. Jimmy was turning things over in his mind. The more he thought about them the more unsatisfactory they seemed.

“You say that Battle wants the Countess left alone,” he said at last.

“Yes.”

“The idea being that through her he will get at someone else?”

Bundle nodded.

Jimmy frowned deeply as he tried to see where this led. Clearly Battle had some very definite idea in his mind.

“Sir Stanley Digby went up to town early this morning, didn’t he,” he said.

“Yes.”

“O’Rourke with him?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“You don’t think—no, that’s impossible.”

“What?”

“That O’Rourke can be mixed up in this in any way.”

“It’s possible,” said Bundle thoughtfully. “He’s got what one calls a very vivid personality. No, it wouldn’t surprise me if—oh, to tell the truth, nothing would surprise me! In fact, there’s only one person I’m really sure isn’t No 7.”

“Who’s that?”

“Superintendent Battle.”

“Oh! I thought you were going to say George Lomax.”

“Ssh, here he comes.”

George was, indeed, bearing down upon them in an unmistakable manner. Jimmy made an excuse and slipped away. George sat down by Bundle.

“My dear Eileen, must you really leave us?”

“Well, Father seems to have got the wind up rather badly. I think I’d better go home and hold his hand.”

“This little hand will indeed be comforting,” said George, taking it and pressing it playfully. “My dear Eileen, I understand your reasons and I honour you for them. In these days of changed and unsettled conditions—”

“He’s off,” thought Bundle desperately.

“—when family life is at a premium—all the old standards falling!—It becomes our class to set an example to show that we, at least, are unaffected by modern conditions. They call us the Die Hards—I am proud of the term—I repeat I am proud of the term! There are things that should die hard—dignity, beauty, modesty, the sanctity of family life, filial respect—who dies if these shall live? As I was saying, my dear Eileen, I envy you the privileges of your youth. Youth! What a wonderful thing! What a wonderful word! And we do not appreciate it until we grow to—er—maturer years. I confess, my dear child, that I have in the past been disappointed by your levity. I see now that it was but the careless and charming levity of a child. I perceive now the serious and earnest beauty of your mind. You will allow me, I hope, to help you with your reading?”

“Oh, thank you,” said Bundle faintly.

“And you must never be afraid of me again. I was shocked when Lady Caterham told me that you stood in awe of me. I can assure you that I am a very humdrum sort of person.”

The spectacle of George being modest struck Bundle spellbound. George continued:

“Never be shy with me, dear child. And do not be afraid of boring me. It will be a great delight to me to—if I may say so—form your budding mind. I will be your political mentor. We have never needed young women of talent and charm in the Party more than we need them today. You may well be destined to follow in the footsteps of your aunt, Lady Caterham.”

This awful prospect knocked Bundle out completely. She could only stare helplessly at George. This did not discourage him—on the contrary. His main objection to women was that they talked too much. It was seldom that he found what he considered a really good listener. He smiled benignly at Bundle.

“The butterfly emerging from the chrysalis. A wonderful picture. I have a very interesting work on political economy. I will look it out now, and you can take it to Chimneys with you. When you have finished it, I will discuss it with you. Do not hesitate to write to me if any point puzzles you. I have many public duties but by unsparing work I can always make time for the affairs of my friends. I will look for the book.”

He strode away. Bundle gazed after him with a dazed expression. She was roused by the unexpected advent of Bill.

“Look here,” said Bill. “What the hell was Codders holding your hand for?”

“It wasn’t my hand,” said Bundle wildly. “It was my budding mind.”

/> “Don’t be an ass, Bundle.”

“Sorry, Bill, but I’m a little worried. Do you remember saying that Jimmy ran a grave risk down here?”

“So he does,” said Bill. “It’s frightfully hard to escape from Codders once he’s got interested in you. Jimmy will be caught in the toils before he knows where he is.”

“It’s not Jimmy who’s caught—it’s me,” said Bundle wildly. “I shall have to meet endless Mrs. Macattas, and read political economy and discuss it with George, and heaven knows where it will end!”

Bill whistled.

“Poor old Bundle. Been laying it on a bit thick, haven’t you?”

“I must have done. Bill, I feel horribly entangled.”

“Never mind,” said Bill consolingly. “George doesn’t really believe in women standing for Parliament, so you won’t have to stand up on platforms and talk a lot of junk, or kiss dirty babies in Bermondsey. Come and have a cocktail. It’s nearly lunch time.”

Bundle got up and walked by his side obediently.

“And I do so hate politics,” she murmured piteously.

“Of course you do. So do all sensible people. It’s only people like Codders and Pongo who take them seriously and revel in them. But all the same,” said Bill, reverting suddenly to a former point, “you oughtn’t to let Codders hold your hand.”

“Why on earth not?” said Bundle. “He’s known me all my life.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Virtuous William—Oh, I say, look at Superintendent Battle.”

They were just passing in through a side door. A cupboard-like room opened out of the little hallway. In it were kept golf clubs, tennis racquets, bowls and other features of country house life. Superintendent Battle was conducting a minute examination of various golf clubs. He looked up a little sheepishly at Bundle’s exclamation.

“Going to take up golf, Superintendent Battle?”

“I might do worse, Lady Eileen. They say it’s never too late to start. And I’ve got one good quality that will tell at any game.”

“What’s that?” asked Bill.

“I don’t know when I’m beaten. If everything goes wrong, I turn to and start again!”

And with a determined look on his face, Superintendent Battle came out and joined them, shutting the door behind him.

Twenty-five