The Seven Dials Mystery (Superintendent Battle 2)

“Formula,” suggested Jimmy. “I think ‘formula’ is a good word myself.”

“He’ll have the formula with him, and the Seven Dials are out to steal the formula. I remember the Russian saying it was worth millions.”

“I suppose it would be,” said Jimmy.

“And well worth a few lives—that’s what the other man said.”

“Well, it seems to have been,” said Jimmy, his face clouding over. “Look at this damned inquest today. Bundle, are you sure Ronny said nothing else?”

“No,” said Bundle. “Just that. Seven Dials. Tell Jimmy Thesiger. That’s all he could get out, poor lad.”

“I wish we knew what he knew,” said Jimmy. “But we’ve found out one thing. I take it that the footman, Bauer, must almost certainly have been responsible for Gerry’s death. You know, Bundle—”

“Yes?”

“Well, I’m a bit worried sometimes. Who’s going to be the next one! It really isn’t the sort of business for a girl to be mixed up in.”

Bundle smiled in spite of herself. It occurred to her that it had taken Jimmy a long time to put her in the same category as Loraine Wade.

“It’s far more likely to be you than me,” she remarked cheerfully.

“Hear, hear,” said Jimmy. “But what about a few casualties on the other side for a change? I’m feeling rather bloodthirsty this morning. Tell me, Bundle, would you recognize any of these people if you saw them?”

Bundle hesitated.

“I think I should recognize No 5,” she said at last. “He’s got a queer way of speaking—a kind of venomous, lisping way—that I think I’d know again.”

“What about the Englishman?”

Bundle shook her head.

“I saw him least—only a glimpse—and he’s got a very ordinary voice. Except that he’s a big man, there’s nothing much to go by.”

“There’s the woman, of course,” continued Jimmy. “She ought to be easier. But then, you’re not likely to run across her. She’s probably putting in the dirty work, being taken out to dinner by amorous Cabinet Ministers and getting State secrets out of them when they’ve had a couple. At least, that’s how it’s done in books. As a matter of fact, the only Cabinet Minister I know drinks hot water with a dash of lemon in it.”

“Take George Lomax, for instance, can you imagine him being amorous with beautiful foreign women?” said Bundle with a laugh.

Jimmy agreed with her criticism.

“And now about the man of mystery—No 7,” went on Jimmy. “You’ve no idea who he could be?”

“None whatever.”

“Again—by book standards, that is—he ought to be someone we all know. What about George Lomax himself?”

Bundle reluctantly shook her head.

“In a book it would be perfect,” she agreed. “But knowing Codders—” And she gave herself up to sudden uncontrollable mirth. “Codders, the great criminal organizer,” she gasped. “Wouldn’t it be marvellous?”

Jimmy agreed that it would. Their discussion had taken some time and his driving had slowed down involuntarily once or twice. They arrived at Chimneys, to find Colonel Melrose already there waiting. Jimmy was introduced to him and they all three proceeded to the inquest together.

As Colonel Melrose had predicted, the whole affair was very simple. Bundle gave her evidence. The doctor gave his. Evidence was given of rifle practice in the neighbourhood. A verdict of death by misadventure was brought in.

After the proceedings were over, Colonel Melrose volunteered to drive Bundle back to Chimneys, and Jimmy Thesiger returned to London.

For all his lighthearted manner, Bundle’s story had impressed him profoundly. He set his lips closely together.

“Ronny, old boy,” he murmured, “I’m going to be up against it. And you’re not here to join in the game.”

Another thought flashed into his mind. Loraine! Was she in danger?

After a minute or two’s hesitation, he went over to the telephone and rang her up.

“It’s me—Jimmy. I thought you’d like to know the result of the inquest. Death by misadventure.”

“Oh, but—”

“Yes, but I think there’s something behind that. The coroner had had a hint. Someone’s at work to hush it up. I say, Loraine—”

“Yes?”

“Look here. There’s—there’s some funny business going about. You’ll be very careful, won’t you? For my sake.”

He heard the quick note of alarm that sprang into her voice.

“Jimmy—but then it’s dangerous—for you.”

He laughed.

“Oh, that’s all right. I’m the cat that had nine lives. Bye-bye, old thing.”

He rang off and remained a minute or two lost in thought. Then he summoned Stevens.

“Do you think you could go out and buy me a pistol, Stevens?”

“A pistol, sir?”

True to his training, Stevens betrayed no hint of surprise.

“What kind of a pistol would you be requiring?”

“The kind where you put your finger on the trigger and the thing goes on shooting until you take it off again.”

“An automatic, sir.”

“That’s it,” said Jimmy. “An automatic. And I should like it to be a bluenosed one—if you and the shopman know what that is. In American stories, the hero always takes his bluenosed automatic from his hip pocket.”

Stevens permitted himself a faint, discreet smile.

“Most American gentlemen that I have known, sir, carry something very different in their hip pockets,” he observed.

Jimmy Thesiger laughed.

Sixteen

THE HOUSE PARTY AT THE ABBEY

Bundle drove over to Wyvern Abbey just in time for tea on Friday afternoon. George Lomax came forward to welcome her with considerable empressement.

“My dear Eileen,” he said, “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you here. You must forgive my not having invited you when I asked your father, but to tell the truth I never dreamed that a party of this kind would appeal to you. I was both—er—surprised and—er—delighted when Lady Caterham told me of your—er—interest in—er—politics.”

“I wanted to come so much,” said Bundle in a simple, ingenuous manner.

“Mrs. Macatta will not arrive till the later train,” explained George. “She was speaking at a meeting in Manchester last night. Do you know Thesiger? Quite a young fellow, but a remarkable grasp of foreign politics. One would hardly suspect it from his appearance.”

“I know Mr. Thesiger,?

?? said Bundle, and she shook hands solemnly with Jimmy, who she observed had parted his hair in the middle in the endeavour to add earnestness to his expression.

“Look here,” said Jimmy in a low hurried voice, as George temporarily withdrew. “You mustn’t be angry, but I’ve told Bill about our little stunt.”

“Bill?” said Bundle, annoyed.

“Well, after all,” said Jimmy, “Bill is one of the lads, you know. Ronny was a pal of his and so was Gerry.”

“Oh! I know,” said Bundle.

“But you think it’s a pity? Sorry.”

“Bill’s all right, of course. It isn’t that,” said Bundle. “But he’s—well, Bill’s a born blunderer.”

“Not mentally very agile?” suggested Jimmy. “But you forget one thing—Bill’s got a very hefty fist. And I’ve an idea that a hefty fist is going to come in handy.”

“Well, perhaps you’re right. How did he take it?” “Well, he clutched his head a good bit, but—I mean the facts took some driving home. But by repeating the thing patiently in words of one syllable I at last got it into his thick head. And, naturally, he’s with us to the death, as you might say.”

George reappeared suddenly.

“I must make some introductions, Eileen. This is Sir Stanley Digby—Lady Eileen Brent. Mr. O’Rourke.” The Air Minister was a little round man with a cheerful smile. Mr. O’Rourke, a tall young man with laughing blue eyes and a typical Irish face, greeted Bundle with enthusiasm.

“And I thinking it was going to be a dull political party entirely,” he murmured in an adroit whisper.

“Hush,” said Bundle. “I’m political—very political.”

“Sir Oswald and Lady Coote you know,” continued George.

“We’ve never actually met,” said Bundle, smiling.

She was mentally applauding her father’s descriptive powers.

Sir Oswald took her hand in an iron grip and she winced slightly.

Lady Coote, after a somewhat mournful greeting, had turned to Jimmy Thesiger, and appeared to be registering something closely akin to pleasure. Despite his reprehensible habit of being late for breakfast, Lady Coote had a fondness for this amiable, pink-faced young man. His air of irrepressible good nature fascinated her. She had a motherly wish to cure him of his bad habits and form him into one of the world’s workers. Whether, once formed, he would be as attractive was a question she had never asked herself. She began now to tell him of a very painful motor accident which had happened to one of her friends.