TWO FROM THE YARD
CHICHESTER is not famous for its restaurants, but the dining-room of a
little hotel, where three people foregathered that afternoon, had the
advantage of privacy.
When Mike Brixan got back to his hotel he found two men waiting to see
him, and, after a brief introduction, he took them upstairs to his
sitting-room.
“I’m glad you’ve come,” he said, when the inspector had closed the door
behind him. “The fact is that sheerly criminal work is a novelty to me,
and I’m afraid that I’m going to make it a mystery to you,” he smiled.
“At the moment I’m not prepared to give expression to all my
suspicions.”
Detective Inspector Lyle, the chief of the two, laughed.
“We have been placed entirely under your orders, Captain Brixan,” he
said, “and neither of us are very curious. The information you asked
for, Sergeant Walters has brought.” He indicated his tall companion.
“Which information—about Penne? Is he known to the police?” asked
Michael, interested.
Sergeant Walters nodded.
“He was convicted and fined a few years ago for assaulting a servant—a
woman. Apparently he took a whip to the girl, and he very narrowly
escaped going to prison. That was the first time our attention was
attracted to him, and we made inquiries both in London and in the Malay
States and found out all about him. He’s a very rich man, and, being a
distant cousin of the late baronet, you may say he fluked his title. In
Borneo he lived up-country, practically in the bush, for fifteen or
twenty years, and the stories we have about him aren’t particularly
savoury. There are a few of them which you might read at your leisure,
Mr. Brixan—they’re in the record.”
Michael nodded.
“Is anything known of an educated orang-outang which is his companion?”
To his surprise, the officer answered:
“Bhag? Oh yes, we know all about him. He was captured when he was quite
a baby by Penne, and was brought up in captivity. It has been rather
difficult to trace the man, because he never returns to England by the
usual steamship line, so that it’s almost impossible to have a tag on
him. He has a yacht, a fine sea-going boat, the _Kipi_, which is
practically officered and manned by Papuans. What comes and goes with
him I don’t know. There was a complaint came through to us that the last
time he was abroad Penne nearly lost his life as the result of some
quarrel he had with a local tribesman. Now, Mr. Brixan, what would you
like us to do?”
Michael’s instructions were few and brief. That evening, when Adele
walked home to her lodgings, she was conscious that a man was following
her, and after her previous night’s adventure this fact would have
played havoc with her nerves but for the note she found waiting when she
got indoors. It was from Michael.
“Would you mind if I put a Scotland Yard man to watch you, to
see that you do not get into mischief! I don’t think there’s any
danger that you will, but I shall feel ever so much easier in my
mind if you will endure this annoyance.”
She read the letter and her brows knit. So she was being shadowed! It
was an uncomfortable experience, and yet she could not very well object,
could not indeed feel anything but a sense of warm gratitude toward this
ubiquitous and pushful young man, who seemed determined not to let her
out of his sight.