The Seven Dials Mystery (Superintendent Battle 2)

Battle indicated the pistol on the table.

“Is this yours, Mr. Thesiger?”

“That’s right. That’s little Leopold. How many shots have been fired?”

“One shot.”

Jimmy looked chagrined.

“I’m disappointed in Leopold,” he murmured. “I can’t have pressed the button properly, or he’d have gone on shooting.”

“Who shot first?”

“I did, I’m afraid,” said Jimmy. “You see, the man twisted himself out of my grasp suddenly. I saw him making for the window and I closed my finger down on Leopold and let him have it. He turned in the window and fired at me and—well, I suppose after that I took the count.”

He rubbed his head rather ruefully.

But Sir Stanley Digby was suddenly alert.

“Climbing down the ivy, you said? My God, Lomax, you don’t think they’ve got away with it?”

He rushed from the room. For some curious reason nobody spoke during his absence. In a few minutes Sir Stanley returned. His round, chubby face was white as death.

“My God, Battle,” he said, “they’ve got it. O’Rourke’s fast asleep—drugged, I think. I can’t wake him. And the papers have vanished.”

Twenty-one

THE RECOVERY OF THE FORMULA

“Der liebe Gott!” said Herr Eberhard in a whisper.

His face had gone chalky white.

George turned a face of dignified reproach on Battle.

“Is this true, Battle? I left all arrangements in your hands.”

The rock-like quality of the Superintendent showed out well. Not a muscle of his face moved.

“The best of us are defeated sometimes, sir,” he said quietly.

“Then you mean—you really mean—that the document is gone?”

But to everyone’s surprise Superintendent Battle shook his head.

“No, no, Mr. Lomax, it’s not so bad as you think. Everything’s all right. But you can’t lay the credit for it at my door. You’ve got to thank this young lady.”

He indicated Loraine, who stared at him in surprise. Battle stepped across to her and gently took the brown paper parcel which she was still clutching mechanically.

“I think, Mr. Lomax,” he said, “that you will find what you want here.”

Sir Stanley Digby, quicker in action than George, snatched at the package and tore it open, investigating its contents eagerly. A sigh of relief escaped him and he mopped his brow. Herr Eberhard fell upon the child of his brain and clasped it to his heart, whilst a torrent of German burst from him.

Sir Stanley turned to Loraine, shaking her warmly by the hand.

“My dear young lady,” he said, “we are infinitely obliged to you, I am sure.”

“Yes, indeed,” said George. “Though I—er—”

He paused in some perplexity, staring at a young lady who was a total stranger to him. Loraine looked appealingly at Jimmy, who came to the rescue.

“We—this is Miss Wade.” said Jimmy. “Gerald Wade’s sister.”

“Indeed,” said George, shaking her warmly by the hand. “My dear Miss Wade, I must express my deep gratitude to you for what you have done. I must confess that I do not quite see—”

He paused delicately and four of the persons present felt that explanations were going to be fraught with much difficulty. Superintendent Battle came to the rescue.

“Perhaps we’d better not go into that just now, sir,” he suggested tactfully.

The efficient Mr. Bateman created a further diversion.

“Wouldn’t it be wise for someone to see to O’Rourke? Don’t you think, sir, that a doctor had better be sent for?”

“Of course,” said George. “Of course. Most remiss of us not to have thought of it before.” He looked towards Bill. “Get Dr. Cartwright on the telephone. Ask him to come. Just hint, if you can, that—er—discretion should be observed.”

Bill went off on his errand.

“I will come up with you, Digby,” said George. “Something, possibly, could be done—measures should, perhaps, be taken—whilst awaiting the arrival of the doctor.”

He looked rather helplessly at Rupert Bateman. Efficiency always makes itself felt. It was Pongo who was really in charge of the situation.

“Shall I come up with you, sir?”

George accepted the offer with relief. Here, he felt, was someone on whom he could lean. He experienced that sense of complete trust in Mr. Bateman’s efficiency which came to all those who encountered that excellent young man.

The three men left the room together. Lady Coote, murmuring in deep rich tones: “The poor young fellow. Perhaps I could do something—” hurried after them.

“That’s a very motherly woman,” observed the Superintendent thoughtfully. “A very motherly woman. I wonder—”

Three pairs of eyes looked at him inquiringly.

“I was wondering,” said Superintendent Battle slowly, “where Sir Oswald Coote may be.”

“Oh!” gasped Loraine. “Do you think he’s been murdered?”

Battle shook his head at her reproachfully.

“No need for anything so melodramatic,” he said. “No—I rather think—”

He paused, his head on one side, listening—one large hand raised to enjoin silence.

In another minute they all heard what his sharper ears had been the first to notice. Footsteps coming along the terrace outside. They rang out clearly with no kind of subterfuge about them. In another minute the window was blocked by a bulky figure which stood there regarding them and who conveyed, in an odd way, a sense of dominating the situation.

Sir Oswald, for it was he, looked slowly from one face to another. His keen eyes took in the details of the situation. Jimmy, with his roughly bandaged arm; Bundle, in her somewhat anomalous attire; Loraine, a perfect stranger to him. His eyes came last to Superintendent Battle. He spoke sharply and crisply.

“What’s been happening here, officer?”

“Attempted robbery, sir.”

“Attempted—eh?”

“Thanks to this young lady, Miss Wade, the thieves failed to get away with it.”

“Ah!” he said again, his scrutiny ended. “And now, officer, what about this?”

He held out a small Mauser pistol which he carried delicately by the butt.

“Where did you find that, Sir Oswald?”

“On the lawn outside. I presume it must have been thrown down by one of the thieves as he took to his heels. I’ve held it carefully, as I thought you

might wish to examine it for fingerprints.”

“You think of everything, Sir Oswald,” said Battle.

He took the pistol from the other, handling it with equal care, and laid it down on the table beside Jimmy’s Colt.

“And now, if you please,” said Sir Oswald, “I should like to hear exactly what occurred.”

Superintendent Battle gave a brief résumé of the events of the night. Sir Oswald frowned thoughtfully.

“I understand,” he said sharply. “After wounding and disabling Mr. Thesiger, the man took to his heels and ran, throwing away the pistol as he did so. What I cannot understand is why no one pursued him.”

“It wasn’t till we heard Mr. Thesiger’s story that we knew there was anyone to pursue,” remarked Superintendent Battle dryly.

“You didn’t—er—catch sight of him making off as you turned the corner of the terrace?”

“No, I missed him by just about forty seconds, I should say. There’s no moon and he’d be invisible as soon as he’d left the terrace. He must have leapt for it as soon as he’d fired the shot.”

“H’m,” said Sir Oswald. “I still think that a search should have been organized. Someone else should have been posted—”

“There are three of my men in the grounds,” said the Superintendent quietly.

“Oh!” Sir Oswald seemed rather taken aback.

“They were told to hold and detain anyone attempting to leave the grounds.”

“And yet—they haven’t done so?”

“And yet they haven’t done so,” agreed Battle gravely.

Sir Oswald looked at him as though something in the words puzzled him. He said sharply:

“Are you telling me all that you know, Superintendent Battle?”

“All that I know—yes, Sir Oswald. What I think is a different matter. Maybe I think some rather curious things—but until thinking’s got you somewhere it’s no use talking about it.”

“And yet,” said Sir Oswald slowly, “I should like to know what you think, Superintendent Battle.”

“For one thing, sir, I think there’s a lot too much ivy about this place—excuse me, sir, you’ve got a bit on your coat—yes, a great deal too much ivy. It complicates things.”