The Seven Dials Mystery (Superintendent Battle 2)

“Very well. Now, that narrows down things considerably. To begin with, I suppose a good many of the servants are family ones—they’re your lot, I mean.”

“Yes,” said Bundle. “Practically all the staff stayed when we let it. All the principal ones are there still—of course there have been changes among the under servants.”

“Exactly—that’s what I am getting at. You”—he addressed Bundle—“must go into all that. Find out when new servants were engaged—what about footmen, for instance?”

“One of the footmen is new. John, his name is.”

“Well, make inquiries about John. And about the others who have only come recently.”

“I suppose,” said Bundle slowly, “it must have been a servant. It couldn’t have been one of the guests?”

“I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Who were there exactly?”

“Well, there were three girls—Nancy and Helen and Socks—”

“Socks Daventry? I know her.”

“May have been. Girl who was always saying things were subtle.”

“That’s Socks all right. Subtle is one of her words.”

“And then there was Gerry Wade and me and Bill Eversleigh and Ronny. And, of course, Sir Oswald and Lady Coote. Oh! and Pongo.”

“Who’s Pongo?”

“Chap called Bateman—secretary to old Coote. Solemn sort of cove but very conscientious. I was at school with him.”

“There doesn’t seem anything very suspicious there,” remarked Loraine.

“No, there doesn’t,” said Bundle. “As you say, we’ll have to look amongst the servants. By the way, you don’t suppose that clock being thrown out of the window had anything to do with it?”

“A clock thrown out of the window,” said Jimmy, staring. It was the first he had heard of it.

“I can’t see how it can have anything to do with it,” said Bundle. “But it’s odd somehow. There seems no sense in it.”

“I remember,” said Jimmy slowly. “I went in to—to see poor old Gerry, and, there were the clocks ranged along the mantelpiece. I remember noticing there were only seven—not eight.”

He gave a sudden shiver and explained himself apologetically.

“Sorry, but somehow those clocks have always given me the shivers. I dream of them sometimes. I’d hate to go into that room in the dark and see them there in a row.”

“You wouldn’t be able to see them if it was dark,” said Bundle practically. “Not unless they had luminous dials—Oh!” She gave a sudden gasp and the colour rushed into her cheeks. “Don’t you see! Seven Dials!”

The others looked at her doubtfully, but she insisted with increasing vehemence.

“It must be. It can’t be a coincidence.”

There was a pause.

“You may be right,” said Jimmy Thesiger at last. “It’s—it’s dashed odd.”

Bundle started questioning him eagerly.

“Who bought the clocks?”

“All of us.”

“Who thought of them?”

“All of us.”

“Nonsense, somebody must have thought of them first.”

“It didn’t happen that way. We were discussing what we could do to get Gerry up, and Pongo said an alarum clock, and somebody said one would be no good, and somebody else—Bill Eversleigh, I think—said why not get a dozen. And we all said good egg and hoofed off to get them. We got one each and an extra one for Pongo and one for Lady Coote—just out of the generosity of our hearts. There was nothing premeditated about it—it just happened.”

Bundle was silenced, but not convinced.

Jimmy proceeded to sum up methodically.

“I think we can say we’re sure of certain facts. There’s a secret society, with points of resemblance to the Mafia, in existence. Gerry Wade came to know about it. At first he treated it as rather a joke—as an absurdity, shall we say. He couldn’t believe in its being really dangerous. But later something happened to convince him, and then he got the wind up in earnest. I rather fancy he must have said something to Ronny Devereux about it. Anyway, when he was put out of the way, Ronny suspected, and he must have known enough to get on the same track himself. The unfortunate thing is that we’ve got to start quite from the outer darkness. We haven’t got the knowledge the other two had.”

“Perhaps that’s an advantage,” said Loraine coolly. “They won’t suspect us and therefore they won’t be trying to put us out of the way.”

“I wish I felt sure about that,” said Jimmy in a worried voice. “You know, Loraine, old Gerry himself wanted you to keep out of it. Don’t you think you could—”

“No, I couldn’t,” said Loraine. “Don’t let’s start discussing that again. It’s only a waste of time.”

At the mention of the word time, Jimmy’s eyes rose to the clock and he uttered an exclamation of astonishment. He rose and opened the door.

“Stevens.”

“Yes, sir?”

“What about a spot of lunch, Stevens? Could it be managed?”

“I anticipated that it would be required, sir. Mrs. Stevens has made preparations accordingly.”

“That’s a wonderful man,” said Jimmy, as he returned, heaving a sigh of relief. “Brain, you know. Sheer brain. He takes correspondence courses. I sometimes wonder if they’d be any good to me.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Loraine.

Stevens opened the door and proceeded to bring in a most recherché meal. An omelette was followed by quails and the very lightest thing in soufflés.

“Why are men so happy when they’re single,” said Loraine tragically. “Why are they so much better looked after by other people than by us?”

“Oh! but that’s rot, you know,” said Jimmy. “I mean, they’re not. How could they be? I often think—”

He stammered and stopped. Loraine blushed again.

Suddenly Bundle let out a whoop and both the others started violently.

“Idiot,” said Bundle. “Imbecile. Me, I mean. I knew there was something I’d forgotten.”

“What?”

“You know Codders—George Lomax, I mean?”

“I’ve heard of him a good deal,” said Jimmy. “From Bill and Ronny, you know.”

“Well, Codders is giving some sort of a dry party next week—and he’s had a warning letter from Seven Dials.”

“What?” cried Jimmy excitedly, leaning forward. “You can’t mean it?”

“Yes, I do. He told Father about it. Now what do you think that points to?”

Jimmy leant back in his chair. He thought rapidly and carefully. At last he spoke. His speech was brief and to the point.

“Something’s going to happen at that party,” he said.

“That’s what I think,” said Bundle.

“It all fits in, said Jimmy almost dreamily.

He turned to Loraine.

“How old were you when the war was on?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Nine—no, eight.”

“And Gerry, I suppose, was about twenty. Most lads of twenty fought in the war. Gerry didn’t.”

“No,” said Loraine, after thinking a minute or two. “No, Gerry wasn’t a soldier. I don’t know why.”

“I can tell you why,” said Jimmy. “Or at least I can make a very shrewd guess. He was out of England from 1915 to 1918. I’ve taken the trouble to find that out. And nobody seems to know exactly where he was. I think he was in Germany.”

The colour rose in Loraine’s cheeks. She looked at Jimmy with admiration.

“How clever of you.”

“He spoke German well, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yes, like a native.”

“I’m sure I’m right. Listen you two. Gerry Wade was at the Foreign Office. He appeared to be the same sort of amiable idiot—excuse the term, but you know what I mean—as Bill Eversleigh and Ronny Devereux. A purely ornamental excrescence. But in reality he was something quite different. I think Gerry Wade wa

s the real thing. Our secret service is supposed to be the best in the world. I think Gerry Wade was pretty high up in that service. And that explains everything! I remember saying idly that last evening at Chimneys that Gerry couldn’t be quite such an ass as he made himself out to be.”

“And if you’re right?” said Bundle, practical as ever.

“Then the thing’s bigger than we thought. This Seven Dials business isn’t merely criminal—it’s international. One thing’s certain, somebody has got to be at this house party of Lomax’s.”

Bundle made a slight grimace.

“I know George well—but he doesn’t like me. He’d never think of asking me to a serious gathering. All the same, I might—”

She remained a moment lost in thought.

“Do you think I could work it through Bill?” asked Jimmy. “He’s bound to be there as Codder’s right hand man. He might bring me along somehow or other.”

“I don’t see why not,” said Bundle. “You’ll have to prime Bill and make him say the right things. He’s incapable of thinking of them for himself.”

“What do you suggest?” asked Jimmy humbly.

“Oh! It’s quite easy. Bill describes you as a rich young man—interested in politics, anxious to stand for Parliament. George will fall at once. You know what these political parties are: always looking for new rich young men. The richer Bill says you are, the easier it will be to manage.”

“Short of being described as Rothschild, I don’t mind,” said Jimmy.

“Then I think that’s practically settled. I’m dining with Bill tomorrow night, and I’ll get a list of who is to be there. That will be useful.”

“I’m sorry you can’t be there,” said Jimmy. “But on the whole I think it’s all for the best.”

“I’m not sure I shan’t be there,” said Bundle. “Codders hates me like poison—but there are other ways.”

She became meditative.