The Seven Dials Mystery (Superintendent Battle 2)

The Countess refused water. Jimmy, kindlier to beauty in distress, suggested a cocktail. The Countess reacted favourably to this suggestion. When she had swallowed it, she looked round once more, this time with a livelier eye.

“Tell me, what has happened?” she demanded briskly.

“We were hoping you might be able to tell us that,” said Superintendent Battle.

The Countess looked at him sharply. She seemed to become aware of the big, quiet man for the first time.

“I went to your room,” said Bundle. “The bed hadn’t been slept in and you weren’t there.”

She paused—looking accusingly at the Countess. The latter closed her eyes and nodded her head slowly.

“Yes, yes, I remember it all now. Oh, it was horrible!” She shuddered. “Do you want me to tell you?”

Superintendent Battle said, “If you please” at the same moment that Bill said, “Not if you don’t feel up to it.”

The Countess looked from one to the other, but the quiet, masterful eye of Superintendent Battle won the game.

“I could not sleep,” began the Countess. “The house—it oppressed me. I was all, as you say, on wires, the cat on the hot bricks. I knew that in the state I was in it was useless to think of going to bed. I walked about my room. I read. But the books placed there did not interest me greatly. I thought I would come down and find something more absorbing.”

“Very natural,” said Bill.

“Very often done, I believe,” said Battle.

“So as soon as the idea occurred to me, I left my room and came down. The house was very still—”

“Excuse me,” interrupted the Superintendent, “but can you give me an idea of the time when this occurred?”

“I never know the time,” said the Countess superbly, and swept on with her story.

“The house was very quiet. One could even hear the little mouse run, if there had been one. I come down the stairs—very quietly—”

“Very quietly?”

“Naturally I do not want to disturb the household,” said the Countess reproachfully. “I come in here. I go into this corner and I search the shelves for a suitable book.”

“Having of course switched on the light?”

“No, I did not switch on the light. I had, you see, my little electric torch with me. With that, I scanned the shelves.”

“Ah!” said the Superintendent.

“Suddenly,” continued the Countess dramatically, “I hear something. A stealthy sound. A muffled footstep. I switch out my torch and listen. The footsteps draw nearer—stealthy, horrible footsteps. I shrink behind the screen. In another minute the door opens and the light is switched on. The man—the burglar is in the room.”

“Yes, but I say—” began Mr. Thesiger.

A large-sized foot pressed his, and realizing that Superintendent Battle was giving him a hint, Jimmy shut up.

“I nearly died of fear,” continued the Countess. “I tried not to breathe. The man waited for a minute, listening. Then, still with that horrible, stealthy tread—”

Again Jimmy opened his mouth in protest, and again shut it.

“—he crossed to the window and peered out. He remained there for a minute or two, then he recrossed the room and turned out the lights again, locking the door. I am terrified. He is in the room, moving stealthily about in the dark. Ah, it is horrible. Suppose he should come upon me in the dark! In another minute I hear him again by the window. Then silence. I hope that perhaps he may have gone out that way. As the minutes pass and I hear no further sound, I am almost sure that he has done so. Indeed I am in the very act of switching on my torch and investigating when—prestissimo!—it all begins.”

“Yes?”

“Ah! But it was terrible—never—never shall I forget it! Two men trying to murder each other. Oh, it was horrible! They reeled about the room, and furniture crashed in every direction. I thought, too, that I heard a woman scream—but that was not in the room. It was outside somewhere. The criminal had a hoarse voice. He croaked rather than spoke. He kept saying ‘Lemme go—lemme go.’ The other man was a gentleman. He had a cultured English voice.”

Jimmy looked gratified.

“He swore—mostly,” continued the Countess.

“Clearly a gentleman,” said Superintendent Battle.

“And then,” continued the Countess, “a flash and a shot. The bullet hit the bookcase beside me. I—I suppose I must have fainted.”

She looked up at Bill. He took her hand and patted it.

“You poor dear,” he said. “How rotten for you.”

“Silly idiot,” thought Bundle.

Superintendent Battle had moved on swift, noiseless feet over to the bookcase a little to the right of the screen. He bent down, searching. Presently he stooped and picked something up.

“It wasn’t a bullet, Countess,” he said. “It’s the shell of the cartridge. Where were you standing when you fired, Mr. Thesiger.”

Jimmy took up a position by the window.

“As nearly as I can see, about here.”

Superintendent Battle placed himself in the same spot.

“That’s right,” he agreed. “The empty shell would throw right rear. It’s a .455. I don’t wonder the Countess thought it was a bullet in the dark. It hit the bookcase about a foot from her. The bullet itself grazed the window frame and we’ll find it outside tomorrow—unless your assailant happens to be carrying it about in him.”

Jimmy shook his head regretfully.

“Leopold, I fear, did not cover himself with glory,” he remarked sadly.

The Countess was looking at him with most flattering attention.

“Your arm!” she exclaimed. “It is all tied up! Was it you then—?”

Jimmy made her a mock bow.

“I’m so glad I’ve got a cultured, English voice,” he said. “And I can assure you that I wouldn’t have dreamed of using the language I did if I had had any suspicion that a lady was present.”

“I did not understand all of it,” the Countess hastened to explain. “Although I had an English governess when I was young—”

“It isn’t the sort of thing she’d be likely to teach you,” agreed Jimmy. “Kept you busy with your uncle’s pen, and the umbrella of the gardener’s niece. I know the sort of stuff.”

“But what has happened?” asked the Countess. “That is what I want to know. I demand to know what has happened.”

There was a moment’s silence whilst everybody looked at Superintendent Battle.

“It’s very simple,” said Battle mildly. “Attempted robbery. Some political papers stolen from Sir Stanley Digby. The thieves nearly got away with them, but thanks to this young lady”—he indicated Loraine—“they didn’t.”

The Countess flashed a glance at the girl—rather an odd glance.

“Indeed,” she said coldly.

“A very fortunate coincidence that she happened to be there,” said Superintendent Battle, smiling.

The Countess gave a little sigh and half closed her eyes again.

“It is absurd, but I still feel extremely faint,” she murmured.

“Of course you do,” cried Bill. “Let me help you up to your room. Bundle will come with you.”

“It is very kind of Lady Eileen,” said the Countess, “but I should prefer to be alone. I am

really quite all right. Perhaps you will just help me up the stairs.”

She rose to her feet, accepted Bill’s arm and, leaning heavily on it, went out of the room. Bundle followed as far as the hall, but, the Countess reiterating her assurance—with some tartness—that she was quite all right, she did not accompany them upstairs.

But as she stood watching the Countess’s graceful form, supported by Bill, slowly mounting the stairway, she stiffened suddenly to acute attention. The Countess’s negligée, as previously mentioned, was thin—a mere veil of orange chiffon. Through it Bundle saw distinctly below the right shoulder blade a small black mole.

With a gasp, Bundle swung impetuously round to where Superintendent Battle was just emerging from the library. Jimmy and Loraine had preceded him.

“There,” said Battle. “I’ve fastened the window and there will be a man on duty outside. And I’ll lock the door and take the key. In the morning we’ll do what the French call reconstruct the crime—Yes, Lady Eileen, what is it?”

“Superintendent Battle, I must speak with you,—at once.”

“Why, certainly, I—”

George Lomax suddenly appeared, Dr. Cartwright by his side.

“Ah, there you are, Battle. You’ll be relieved to hear that there’s nothing seriously wrong with O’Rourke.”

“I never thought there would be much wrong with Mr. O’Rourke,” said Battle.

“He’s had a strong hypodermic administered to him,” said the doctor. “He’ll wake perfectly all right in the morning, perhaps a bit of a head, perhaps not. Now then, young man, let’s look at this bullet wound of yours.”

“Come on, nurse,” said Jimmy to Loraine. “Come and hold the basin or my hand. Witness a strong man’s agony. You know the stunt.”

Jimmy, Loraine and the doctor went off together. Bundle continued to throw agonized glances in the direction of Superintendent Battle, who had been buttonholed by George.

The Superintendent waited patiently till a pause occurred in George’s loquacity. He then swiftly took advantage of it.

“I wonder, sir, if I might have a word privately with Sir Stanley? In the little study at the end there.”