Blackmailing a Government
When they reached London the evening newspapers were filled with the
new sensation.
The Crimson Circle had indeed decided upon an ambitious programme.
Briefly the story, as related in an official communique to the Press,
was as follows:
That morning every member of the Government had received a
type-written document, bearing no address and no other indication of
its origin save a Crimson Circle stamped on every page. The document
ran:
“Every effort of your police, both official and private, the genius of
Mr. Derrick Yale, and the plodding efforts of Chief Inspector Parr,
have failed to check Our activity. The full story of Our success is
not known. It has been unfortunately Our unpleasant duty to remove a
number of people from life, not so much in a spirit of vengeance, as
to serve as a salutary warning to others, and only this morning it has
been Our unhappy duty to remove Mr. Samuel Heggitt, a lawyer, who was
engaged by the late Harvey Froyant on particular work, in the course
of which he came unpleasantly close to Our identity.
“Fortunately for the other members of his firm, he undertook that task
personally. His body will be found by the side of the railway between
Brixton and Marsden.
“Since the police are unable to hold Us, and since We are in complete
agreement with those in authority who say that We are the most
dangerous menace to society that exists, We have agreed to forego Our
activities on condition that the sum of a million pounds sterling is
placed at Our disposal. The method by which this money shall be
transferred will be detailed later. This must be accompanied by a free
pardon in blank, so that We may, if occasion necessitates, or
hereinafter Our identity is disclosed, avail Ourselves of that
document.
“Refusal to agree to Our terms will have unpleasant consequences. We
name hereunder twelve eminent Parliamentarians, who must stand as
hostages for the fulfilment of Our desire. If, at the end of the week,
the Government have not agreed to Our terms, one of these gentlemen
will be removed.”
The first person that Parr met on his arrival at Whitehall was Derrick
Yale, and for once the famous detective looked worried.
“I was afraid of this development,” he said, “and the queer thing is
that it has come at a moment when I thought I was in a position to lay
my hand on the chief offender.”
He took Parr’s hand in his, and walked him along the gloomy corridor.
“This spoils my day’s fishing,” he said, and Inspector Parr
remembered.
“Of course, to-day is the day you die! But I suppose you are reprieved
under the general amnesty which the Crimson Circle have issued,” he
said drily, and his companion laughed.
“I want to tell you, before we go into this meeting, that I am willing
to place myself unreservedly at your disposal,” he said quietly. “I
think you ought to know, Parr, that the present wishes of the Cabinet
are to give me an official status and place the whole of the
investigations in my charge. I have been sounded on the matter, and
have given them point-blank refusal. I am convinced that you are the
best man for the job, and I will serve under no other chief.”
“Thank you,” said Parr simply. “Perhaps the Cabinet will take another
view.”
The Cabinet meeting was held in the Secretary of State’s office; all
the recipients of the Crimson Circle’s memo. were present from the
beginning, but it was some time before outsiders were called in.
Yale was summoned first, and a quarter of an hour later the messenger
beckoned the inspector.
Inspector Parr knew most of the illustrious gathering by sight, and
being on the opposite side in politics, had no particular respect for
any. He felt an air of hostility as he came into the big room, and the
chilly nod which the white-bearded Prime Minister gave him in response
to his bow, confirmed this impression.
“Mr. Parr,” said the Prime Minister icily, “we are discussing the
question of the Crimson Circle, which, as you must realise, has become
almost a national problem. Their dangerous character has been
emphasised by a memorandum which has been addressed to the various
members of the Cabinet by this infamous association, and which, I have
no doubt, you have read in the newspapers.”
“Yes, sir,” said the inspector.
“I will not disguise from you the fact that we are profoundly
dissatisfied with the course which your investigations have taken.
Although you have had every facility and every power granted you,
including,” he consulted a paper before him, but Parr interrupted him.
“I should not like you to tell the meeting what powers I have
received, Prime Minister,” he said firmly, “or what particular
privileges have been granted me by the Secretary of State.”
The Prime Minister was taken aback.
“Very well,” he said. “I will add that, although you have had
extraordinary privileges, and opportunities, and you have even been
present when the outrages have taken place, you have not succeeded in
bringing the criminal to justice.”
The inspector nodded.
“It was our original wish to place the matter in the hands of Mr.
Derrick Yale, who has been especially successful in tracing two of the
murderers, without, however, being able to bring the prime culprit to
justice. Mr. Yale, however, refuses to accept the commission unless
you are in control. He has kindly expressed his willingness to serve
under you, and in this course we are agreed. I understand that your
resignation is already before the Commissioners, and that it has been
formally accepted. That acceptance, for the time being, is reserved.
Now remember, Mr. Parr,” the Prime Minister leant forward and spoke
very earnestly and emphatically: “It is absolutely impossible that we
can accede to the Crimson Circle’s demands: such a course would be the
negation of all law, and the surrender of all authority. We rely upon
you to afford to every member of the Government who is threatened,
that protection which is his right as a citizen. Your whole career is
in the balance.”
The inspector, thus dismissed, rose slowly.
“If the Crimson Circle keeps its word,” he said, “I guarantee that not
a hair of one member of your Government shall be harmed in London.
Whether I can capture the man who describes himself as the Crimson
Circle, remains to be seen.”
“I suppose,” said the Prime Minister, “there is no doubt that this
unfortunate man, Heggitt, has been killed.”
It was Derrick Yale who answered.
“No, sir; the body was found early this morning. Mr. Heggitt, who
lives at Marsden, left London last night by train, and apparently the
crime was committed _en route_.”
“It is deplorable, deplorable.” The Prime Minister shook his head. “A
terrible orgy of murder and crime, and it seems that we are not at the
end of it yet.”
When they came out into Whitehall, Yale and his companion found that a
large crowd had gathered, for news had leaked out that a meeting was
being held to discuss this new and extraordinary problem which
confronted the Government.
Yale, who was recognised, was cheered, but Inspector Parr passed
unnoticed through the crowd--to his intense relief.
Undoubtedly the Crimson Circle was the sensation of the hour. Some of
the evening newspaper placards bore a crimson circle in imitation of
the famous insignia of the gang, and wherever men met, there the
possibility of the Circle carrying their threat into effect was
discussed.
Thalia Drummond looked up as her employer came in. The evening
newspaper was in front of her, and her chin rested on her clasped
hands, and she read every line, word by word.
Derrick noticed the interest, and observed, too, her momentary
confusion as she folded the paper and put it away.
“Well, Miss Drummond, what do you think of their last exploit?”
“It is colossal,” she said. “In some respects, admirable.”
He looked at her gravely.
“I confess I can see little to admire,” he said. “You take rather a
queer, twisted view of things.”
“Don’t I?” she said coolly. “You must never forget, Mr. Yale, that I
have a queer, twisted mind.”
He paused at the door of his room and looked back at her, a long, keen
scrutiny, which she met without so much as an eyelid quivering.
“I think you should be very grateful that Mr. Johnson, of Mildred
Street, no longer receives your interesting communications,” he said,
and she was silent.
He came out again soon after.
“I am probably going to establish my offices at police head-quarters,”
he said, “and realising that that atmosphere is one in which you will
not flourish, I am leaving you here in control of my ordinary
business.”
“Are you accepting the responsibility for capturing the Crimson
Circle?” she asked steadily.
He shook his head.
“Inspector Parr is in control,” he said, “but I am going to help him.”
He made no further reference to his new task, and the rest of the
morning was spent in routine work. He went out to lunch and said he
would not be back that day, giving her instructions regarding letters
he wished despatched.
He had hardly gone before his telephone bell went, and at the sound of
the voice at the other end, she nearly dropped the receiver.
“Yes, it is I,” she said. “Good morning, Mr. Beardmore.”
“Is Yale there?” asked Jack.
“He has just gone out: he will not be back to-day. If there is
anything important to tell him, I may be able to find him,” she said,
steadying her voice with an effort.
“I don’t know whether it’s important or not,” said Jack, “but I was
going through my father’s papers this morning, a very disagreeable
job, by the way, and I found a whole bunch of papers relating to
Marl.”
“To Marl?” she said slowly.
“Yes, apparently poor Dad knew a great deal more about Marl than we
imagined. He had been in prison: did you know that?”
“I could have guessed it,” said Thalia.
“Father always put through an inquiry about people before he did
business with them,” Jack went on, “and apparently there is a lot of
explanation about Marl’s early life, collected by a French agency. He
seems to have been a pretty bad lot, and I wonder the governor had
dealings with him. One curious document is an envelope which is marked
‘Photograph of Execution’: it was sealed up by the French people, and
apparently the governor didn’t open it. He hated gruesome things of
that kind.”
“Have you opened it?” she asked quickly.
“No,” he answered in a tone of surprise. “Why do you jump at me like
that?”
“Will you do me a favour, Jack?”
It was the first time she had ever called him by name, and she could
almost see him redden.
“Why--why, of course, Thalia, I’d do anything for you,” he said
eagerly.
“Don’t open the envelope,” she said intensely. “Keep all the papers
relating to Marl in a safe place. Will you promise that?”
“I promise,” he said. “What a queer request to make!”
“Have you told anybody about it?” she asked.
“I sent a note to Inspector Parr.”
He heard her exclamation of annoyance.
“Will you promise me not to tell anybody, especially about the
photograph?”
“Of course, Thalia,” he answered. “I’ll send it along to you, if you
like.”
“No, no, don’t do that,” she said, then abruptly she finished the
conversation.
She sat for a few minutes breathing quickly, and then she rose, and
putting on her hat, she locked up the office, and went to lunch.