The Seven Dials Mystery (Superintendent Battle 2)

“It’s curious,” said Bill, “but Pongo always is right. It’s maddening.”

“Well, as I say,” went on Superintendent Battle, “we got Mr. Thesiger fairly on the run, badly rattled over this Seven Dials business and uncertain just where the danger lay. That we got him in the end was solely through Mr. Eversleigh. He knew what he was up against, and he risked his life cheerfully. But he never dreamt that you would be dragged into it, Lady Eileen.”

“My God, no,” said Bill with feeling.

“He went round to Mr. Thesiger’s rooms with a cooked-up tale,” continued Battle. “He was to pretend that certain papers of Mr. Devereux’s had come into his hands. Those papers were to suggest a suspicion of Mr. Thesiger. Naturally, as the honest friend, Mr. Eversleigh rushed round, sure that Mr. Thesiger would have an explanation. We calculated that if we were right, Mr. Thesiger would try and put Mr. Eversleigh out of the way, and we were fairly certain as to the way he’d do it. Sure enough, Mr. Thesiger gave his guest a whisky and soda. During the minute or two that his host was out of the room. Mr. Eversleigh poured that into a jar on the mantelpiece, but he had to pretend, of course, that the drug was taking effect. It would be slow, he knew, not sudden. He began his story, and Mr. Thesiger at first denied it all indignantly, but as soon as he saw (or thought he saw) that the drug was taking effect, he admitted everything and told Mr. Eversleigh that he was the third victim.

“When Mr. Eversleigh was nearly unconscious, Mr. Thesiger took him down to the car and helped him in. The hood was up. He must already have telephoned to you unknown to Mr. Eversleigh. He made a clever suggestion to you. You were to say that you were taking Miss Wade home.

“You made no mention of a message from him. Later when your body was found here, Miss Wade would swear that you had driven her home and gone up to London with the idea of penetrating into this house by yourself.

“Mr. Eversleigh continued to play his part, that of the unconscious man. I may say that as soon as the two young men had left Jermyn Street, one of my men gained admission and found the doctored whisky, which contained enough hydrochloride of morphia to kill two men. Also the car they were in was followed. Mr. Thesiger drove out of town to a well-known golf course, where he showed himself for a few minutes, speaking of playing a round. That, of course, was for an alibi, should one be needed. He left the car with Mr. Eversleigh in it a little way down the road. Then he drove back to town and to the Seven Dials Club. As soon as he saw Alfred leave, he drove up to the door, spoke to Mr. Eversleigh as he got out in case you might be listening and came into the house and played his little comedy.

“When he pretended to go for a doctor, he really only slammed the door and then crept quietly upstairs and hid behind the door of this room, where Miss Wade would presently send you up on some excuse. Mr. Eversleigh, of course, was horror-struck when he saw you, but he thought it best to keep up the part he was playing. He knew our people were watching the house, and he imagined that there was no immediate danger intended to you. He could always ‘come to life’ at any moment. When Mr. Thesiger threw his revolver on the table and apparently left the house it seemed safer than ever. As for the next bit—” He paused, looking at Bill. “Perhaps you’d like to tell that, sir.”

“I was still lying on that bally sofa,” said Bill, “trying to look done in and getting the fidgets worse and worse. Then I heard someone run down the stairs, and Loraine got up and went to the door. I heard Thesiger’s voice, but not what he said. I heard Loraine say: ‘That’s all right—it’s gone splendidly.’ Then he said: ‘Help me carry him up. It will be a bit of a job, but I want them both together there—a nice little surprise for No 7.’ I didn’t quite understand what they were jawing about, but they hauled me up the stairs somehow or other. It was a bit of a job for them. I made myself a dead weight all right. They heaved me in here, and then I heard Loraine say: ‘You’re sure it’s all right? She won’t come round?’ And Jimmy said—the damned blackguard: ‘No fear. I hit her with all my might.’

“They went away and locked the door, and then I opened my eyes and saw you. My God, Bundle, I shall never feel so perfectly awful again. I thought you were dead.”

“I suppose my hat saved me,” said Bundle.

“Partly,” said Superintendent Battle. “But partly it was Mr. Thesiger’s wounded arm. He didn’t realize it himself—but it had only half its usual strength. Still, that’s all no credit to the Department. We didn’t take the care of you we ought to have done, Lady Eileen—and it’s a black blot on the whole business.”

“I’m very tough,” said Bundle. “And also rather lucky. What I can’t get over is Loraine being in it. She was such a gentle little thing.”

“Ah!” said the Superintendent. “So was the Pentonville murderess that killed five children. You can’t go by that. She’s got bad blood in her—her father ought to have seen the inside of a prison more than once.”

“You’ve got her too?”

Superintendent Battle nodded.

“I daresay they won’t hang her—juries are softhearted. But young Thesiger will swing all right—and a good thing too—a more utterly depraved and callous criminal I never met.”

“And now,” he added, “if your head isn’t aching too badly, Lady Eileen, what about a little celebration? There’s a nice little restaurant round the corner.”

Bundle heartily agreed.

“I’m starving, Superintendent Battle. Besides,” she looked round. “I’ve got to get to know all my colleagues.”

“The Seven Dials,” said Bill. “Hurrah! Some fizz is what we need. Do they run to fizz at this place, Battle?”

“You won’t have anything to complain of, sir. You leave it to me.”

“Superintendent Battle,” said Bundle, “you are a wonderful man. I’m sorry you’re married already. As it is, I shall have to put up with Bill.”

Thirty-four

LORD CATERHAM APPROVES

“Father,” said Bundle, “I’ve got to break a piece of news to you. You’re going to lose me.”

“Nonsense,” said Lord Caterham. “Don’t tell me that you’re suffering from galloping consumption or a weak heart or anything like that, because I simply don’t believe it.”

“It’s not death,” said Bundle. “It’s marriage.”

“Very nearly as bad,” said Lord Caterham. “I suppose I shall have to come to the wedding, all dressed up in tight uncomfortable clothes, and give you away. And Lomax may think it necessary to kiss me in the vestry.”

“Good heavens! You don’t think I’m going to marry George, do you?” cried Bundle.

“Well, something like that seemed to be in the wind last time I saw you,” said her father. “Yesterday morning, you know.”

“I’m going to be married to someone a hundred times nicer than George,” said Bundle.

“I hope so, I’m sure,” said Lord Caterham. “But one never knows. I don’t feel you’re really a good judge of character, Bundle. You told me that young Thesiger was a cheerful inefficient, and from all I hear now it seems that he was one of the most efficient criminals of the day. The sad thing is that I never met him. I was thinking of writing my reminiscences soon—with a special chapter on murderers I have met—and by a purely technical oversight, I never met this young man.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Bundle. “You know you haven’t got the energy to write reminiscences or anything else.”

“I wasn’t actually going to write them myself,” said Lord Caterham. “I believe that’s never done. But I met a very charming girl the other day and that’s her special job. She collects the material and does all the actual writing.”

“And what do you do?”

“Oh, just give her a few facts for half an hour every day. Nothing more than that.” After a slight pause, Lord Catherham said: “She was a nice-looking girl—very restful and sympathetic.”

“Father,” said Bundle, “I have a feeling that without me you will run into deadly danger.”

“Different kinds of danger suit different kinds of people,” said Lord Caterham.

He was moving away, when he turned back and said over his shoulder:

“By the way, Bundle, who are you marrying?”

“I was wondering,” said Bundle, “when you were going to ask me that. I’m going to marry Bill Eversleigh.”

The egoist thought it over for a minute. Then he nodded in complete satisfaction.

“Excellent,” he said. “He’s scratch, isn’t he? He and I can play together in the foursomes in the Autumn Meeting.”