THE SECRETARY
Room No. 47 was on the floor above that where the Commissioner’s
office was situated. It lay at the end of a long corridor, facing the
detective. He carried the tray in one hand and opened the door with
the other, walking into a comfortable little bureau.
“Hallo!” he said in surprise. “Am I in the wrong office?”
The girl, who had risen from her desk, was young and extremely pretty.
A mass of dull gold hair, dressed low over her broad forehead, gave an
added emphasis to clear gray eyes that were regarding him with
surprise. She was neat and slim of figure, and when she smiled Larry
thought he had hardly ever seen so gracious and pleasant a lady.
“This is Inspector Holt’s office,” she said.
“Good Lord!” said Larry, coming slowly into the room and shutting the
door behind him. He went to the other desk and put down the tray, and
the girl looked puzzled.
“This is Inspector Holt’s office,” she repeated. “Are those things for
him?”
Larry nodded, looking at the girl in wonder.
“What is that?” he asked suddenly, pointing to a glass and a jug on a
side table which was covered with a small white cloth.
“Oh, that is for Inspector Holt,” she said.
Larry looked into the jug.
“Milk?” he said in wonder.
“Yes,” said the girl. “Inspector Holt is rather old, you know, and
when I asked the Commissioner if he would like something after his
journey, the Commissioner suggested invalid’s food and milk; but I
can’t make invalid’s food here, and----”
His shriek of merriment stopped her, and she stared at him.
“I am Inspector Holt,” he said, drying his eyes.
“You?” she gasped.
“I’m the lad,” said he complacently. “John, the Commissioner, has
played a joke on you, miss--I don’t know your name. Now, would you be
good enough to ask the aged Miss Ward to step in?”
A smile twitched her lips.
“I am Miss Ward,” she said, and it was Larry’s turn to stare. Then he
put out his hand with a smile.
“Miss Ward,” he said, “we’re companions in misfortune. Each has been
equally a victim of a perfidious police commissioner. I’m extremely
glad to meet you--and relieved.”
“I’m a little relieved,” laughed the girl as she went to her desk, and
Larry, watching every movement, thought she floated rather than
walked.
“Sir John said you were sixty and asthmatic, and told me to be careful
that no draughts should come into the office. I’ve had a draught
excluder specially fitted this afternoon.”
Larry thought a moment.
“Perhaps it’s as well I didn’t go to Monte Carlo,” he said, and sat
down at his desk. “Now let us start, shall we?”
She opened her book and took up a pencil, while Larry examined the
trinkets that lay on the tray.
“Take this down, please,” he said. “Watch made Gildman of Toronto,
half-hunter, jewel-balanced; No. A778432. No scratches on the inside.”
He opened the case and snapped it again, then tried the stem winder.
“Wound less than six hours before death took place.”
She looked up.
“Is this the Stuart case?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Larry. “Do you know anything about it?”
“Only what the Commissioner’s told me,” she replied. “Poor man! But
I’m getting so used to horrors now that I’m almost hardened. I suppose
one feels that way if one’s a medical student. I was a nurse for two
years in a blind asylum,” she added, “and that helps to toughen you,
doesn’t it?” She smiled.
“I suppose it does,” said Larry thoughtfully, and wondered how young
she had been when she started to work for her living. He put her at
twenty-one and thought that was a fairly generous estimate of her age.
“Do you like this work?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I love it,” she said. “Sir John says that one of these days he’s
going to make me a----” She hesitated for a word.
“A sleuth? Don’t say you’re going to be a sleuth,” begged Larry. “I
thought we had this business to ourselves. Female competition
to-day----”
She shook her head.
“You’re neglecting your work, Mr. Holt,” she said. “I’ve got as far as
the watch.”
He chuckled a little and resumed his inspection.
“Chain made of platinum and gold, length twelve inches, swivel at end,
and container of a gold pencil--at least, I presume it was gold,” he
dictated.
“The pencil wasn’t found?”
“No,” she said. “I particularly asked the sergeant who brought the
goods whether the pencil had been found.”
Larry looked at her in surprise.
“Did you notice that?”
“Oh, yes, I noticed that, too,” said Diana calmly. “The knife has
gone, too.”
He looked across at her in genuine amazement.
“What knife?” he asked.
“I guessed it was a knife,” said she. “The swivel is too large to be
attached to a pencil only. If you look you will see a little ring--it
has probably got entangled with the ring holding the pencil. It was
broken when it came in, but I pressed it together. It looked as if
somebody had wrenched it off. I guessed the knife,” she said, “because
men so often carry a little gold penknife there.”
“Or a cigar-cutter?” suggested Larry.
“I thought of that,” she said, nodding, “but they’d hardly have taken
the trouble to nip off a cigar-cutter.”
“They?” he asked.
“Whoever killed Stuart,” she said quietly, “would have removed all
weapons from his possession.”
He looked at the chain again and saw the other ring, and wondered why
he had not noticed it before.
“I think you’re right,” he said after a further examination. “The ring
is much larger--it had slid up the chain, by the way--and there are
distinct scratches where the knife was wrenched off. Hm!” He put down
the object on the table, and looked at his own watch. “Have you seen
the rest of the things?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I’ve only examined the watch.”
He looked around for some receptacle, and saw a cupboard in the wall.
“Is this empty?” he asked, and she nodded. “Then we’ll leave the
examination of these until I come back. I have to see somebody.”
He slipped the tray into the closet and locked the door, handing the
key to the girl. He was halfway to the door when he remembered.
“You won’t be here when I come back? I suppose you have some sort of
office hours?”
“I make it a practice never to stay after two o’clock in the morning,”
she said gravely.
She met the frank admiration in his eyes without embarrassment.
“I don’t think I have ever met a girl like you,” he said slowly, and
as though he were speaking his thoughts aloud.
She flushed and dropped her gaze. Then she laughed and looked at him
again, and he thought that her eyes were like stars.
“It may be that we have never met anybody like each other,” she said.
And Larry Holt left Scotland Yard, conscious that a new and very
potent interest had come into his life.