The Key of River House
It was arranged that Froyant should draw the necessary money from
his bank on the Thursday morning to pay the demand, and that Yale
should call for it and meet Parr at the former’s office in ample time
to make the necessary preparations for the visitor’s reception.
Mr. Parr’s way to head-quarters took him past the big house where Jack
Beardmore was living in solitude.
The events of the past few weeks had wrought an extraordinary change
in the youth. From a boy he had suddenly become a man, with all a
man’s balance and understanding. He had inherited an enormous fortune,
but with its coming the incentive of life had, for the most part,
fallen away. He could never escape the memory of Thalia Drummond; her
face was before him, sleeping or waking, and though he called himself
a fool, and could, as he did, argue the matter to a logical
conclusion, the sum of all his reasoning faded before the image he
carried in his heart.
Between Inspector Parr and he there had grown a curious friendship.
There was a time when he was near to hating the stout little man, but
his good sense had told him that however large a part sentiment had
played in his own life, and in the direction of his own actions, it
could have no place in a police officer’s moral equipment.
The inspector stopped before the door of the house, and was for
passing on, but, obeying an impulse, he walked slowly up the steps and
rang the bell. The footman who admitted him was one of the dozen
servants who accentuated the emptiness of the mansion.
Jack was in the dining-room, pretending to be interested in a late
breakfast.
“Come in, Mr. Parr,” he said, rising. “I suppose you breakfasted hours
ago. Is there anything new?”
“Nothing,” said Parr, “except that Mr. Froyant has decided to pay.”
“He would,” said Jack contemptuously, and then, for the first time in
a long while, he laughed. “I shouldn’t like to be the Red or Crimson
Circle, or whatever it calls itself.”
“Why not?” asked Mr. Parr, with a little light of amusement in his
eyes, but he could guess the answer.
“My poor father used to say that Froyant fretted over every cent that
was taken from him and never rested until he got it back. When
Harvey’s panic is over he will go after the Crimson Circle, and will
never leave it until every bank-note he has handed to them is repaid.”
“Very likely,” agreed the inspector, “but they aren’t holding the
money yet.”
He told Jack the contents of the letter which Froyant had received
that morning, and his young host was visibly astonished.
“They’re taking a big risk, aren’t they? It would be a clever man who
got the better of Derrick Yale.”
“So I think,” said the inspector, crossing his legs comfortably. “I
must take my hat off to Yale. There are things about him that I admire
tremendously.”
“His psychometrical powers, for example,” smiled Jack, but the
inspector shook his head.
“I don’t know enough about those to admire them. They seem uncanny to
me, yet in a certain way I can understand them. No, I am thinking of
other of his qualities.”
He was suddenly silent, and Jack sensed his depression.
“You’re having a pretty bad time at head-quarters, aren’t you?” he
asked. “I don’t suppose they are particularly pleased with the
immunity of the Crimson Circle?”
Parr nodded.
“I’m not exactly in a bed of roses just now,” he admitted. “But that
doesn’t worry me a bit.” He looked steadily at Jack. “By the way, your
young friend is in a new job.”
Jack started.
“My young friend?” he stammered. “You mean Miss----”
“Miss Drummond, I mean. Derrick Yale has engaged her,” he chuckled
softly at Jack’s astonishment.
“Engaged Miss Thalia Drummond? You’re joking, surely?” said Jack.
“I thought he was joking when he suggested it. He’s a queer bird, is
Yale.”
“He ought to be at head-quarters, a lot of people think,” said Jack,
and realised that he had made a _faux pas_ before the words were out.
But if Mr. Parr was hurt he did not show it.
“They don’t take them in from outside,” he said with a smile, and the
inspector very rarely smiled. “Otherwise, Mr. Beardmore, we should
have taken you! No, our friend is clever. I suppose you don’t expect a
head-quarters’ man to admit that what we call a ‘fancy’ detective can
be anything but an interfering fool? But Yale is clever.”
They had strolled together to the window, and were looking out into
the sedate street in which Jack Beardmore’s residence was situated.
“Isn’t that Miss Drummond?” he asked suddenly.
Parr had already seen her. She was walking slowly along the other side
of the road, looking at the numbers of the houses. Presently she
crossed.
“She’s coming here,” gasped Jack. “I wonder what----” He did not wait
to finish what he had to say, but rushed out of the room and opened
the hall door to her whilst her finger was lingering on the bell push.
“It is good to see you, Thalia,” he said, gripping her warmly by the
hand. “Won’t you come in? An old acquaintance of yours is in the
dining-room.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Not Mr. Parr?”
“You’re a wonderful guesser,” laughed Jack as he closed the door
behind her. “Did you want to see me alone?” he asked suddenly.
She shook her head.
“No; I’ve only a message for you from Mr. Yale. He wanted you to let
him have the key of your riverside house.”
By this time they were in the dining-room, and the girl, meeting the
expressionless gaze of Mr. Parr, nodded curtly.
“You evidently do not love my friend, Mr. Parr,” thought Jack.
He explained the object of the girl’s visit.
“My poor father had a derelict property by the riverside,” he said.
“It has not been tenanted for years, and the surveyors tell me it will
cost almost as much as the property is worth to put it into repair.
For some reason Yale thinks that Brabazon will use this as a
hiding-place. Brabazon had it in his hands for some time, trying to
sell it. He looked after some of my father’s property. But is he at
all likely to be there?”
Mr. Parr pursed his large lips and blinked meditatively.
“The only thing I know about him is that so far he has not left the
country,” he said at last. “I should not think he’d go to a house
which he must know would be searched.” He stared absently at Thalia.
“Yet he might,” he mused. “I suppose he has a key to the place. What
is it, a house?”
“It is half house and half warehouse,” said Jack. “I have never seen
it, but I believe it is one of those dwellings which the old merchants
favoured two hundred years ago, in the days when they lived in the
places where they carried on business.”
He unlocked his desk and pulled out a drawer full of keys, each
bearing a label.
“This is the one, I think, Miss Drummond,” he said, handing the key to
her. “How do you like your new job?”
It required some courage to ask the question, for he was almost
awestricken in her presence.
She smiled faintly.
“It is amusing,” she said, “without being in any way tempting! I
cannot tell you very much about it, because I only started this
morning.” She turned to the detective. “No, I shan’t trouble you very
much, Mr. Parr,” she said. “The only thing of value in the office is a
silver paper-weight--I don’t even have to post the letters,” she went
on mockingly. “The office is built on the American plan, and there is
a little shute in Mr. Yale’s private office that drops the letters
straight away into the box in the hall below. It is very
disappointing!”
Solemn though she was, her eyes were dancing with merriment.
“You’re a queer woman, Thalia Drummond,” said Parr, “and yet I’m sure
there is some good in you.”
The remark seemed to cause her unbounded amusement. She laughed until
the tears were in her eyes, and Jack grinned sympathetically.
Parr, on the other hand, showed no sign of amusement.
“Be careful,” he said ominously, and the smile faded from her lips.
“You may be sure I shall be very careful, Mr. Parr,” she said, “and if
I am in any kind of trouble, you can be equally sure that I shall send
immediately for you!”
“I hope you will,” said Parr, “though I have my doubts.”