"Well, I'm afraid it's no good waiting," was the answer. "She went
out just after eight o'clock this morning, and I know she won't be
back till late, because she asked me to take in a parcel for her."
"I suppose you don't happen to know where she was going to?" asked
Colin. "Please forgive my curiosity, but I am a friend of Doctor
Ashton's, for whom Miss Seymour works, and as she hasn't turned up
and has sent no message, we are both feeling rather anxious about
her."
"She has gone to see her lawyer," replied the girl. "He sent a car
around to fetch her, that's why she went off in such a hurry."
Colin stared at her in astonishment. "Her lawyer?" he repeated.
"That's what she told me. I think from the way she spoke he wanted
to see her suddenly about some important business. Anyhow, I know
the chauffeur brought a letter with him, because she had it in her
hand."
"Did you notice the man?" demanded Colin, "Would you be able to
describe him again?"
The girl raised her eyebrows. "I don't suppose so," she said coolly.
"He was on the landing, but it doesn't happen to be a habit of mine
to stare at chauffeurs."
With a big effort Colin pulled himself together.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "Perhaps I ought to explain. Miss
Seymour and I are engaged to be married, so you will understand why
I'm feeling worried about this sudden disappearance of hers."
The girl looked up at him sympathetically. "Why, of course," she
replied, "but surely there's no reason to be alarmed? I expect she
intended to ring up when she reached the lawyer's office, and then
something came along and put it out of her head. She has probably
done so by now."
"It won't take me long to find out, anyhow," said Colin. He paused.
"Are you likely to be at home the rest of the day?" he asked.
His companion nodded. "Yes," she said. "I live here. I'm an
artist."
"Then, just in case Miss Seymour does come home, would you mind
asking her to let Doctor Ashton know immediately?"
"Certainly I will," said the girl. "Even if I don't hear her, she's
sure to look in in order to see about the parcel." She hesitated.
"I--I should like to congratulate you, if I may," she added. "I
don't know Miss Seymour very well--I have only been in this studio a
few weeks--but one's merely got to speak to her to see that she's a
perfect dear."
In spite of his anxiety, Colin smiled at her gratefully.
"Thank you so much," he said. "I'll tell Nancy what a brick you've
been."
He shook her hand and, leaving her standing in the doorway, hurried
downstairs again into the street.
There was a chemist's shop at the corner which boasted a public
telephone, and, entering the box, he rang up Mark.
"No news here," came the reply in answer to his first inquiry. "How
about you?"
In a few words Colin acquainted him with the story he had just been
told, giving the bare facts exactly as he had heard them from the
girl.
"It seems a devilish queer business," was Mark's comment, after a
short pause. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I know the name of her lawyer at Helston," said Colin. "It's
Penwarren. I shall send a telegram at once to find out whether he's
in London."
"And suppose he's not?"
"In that case there's only one explanation. She's in the hands of
that brute Fenton, and----"
"Look here," broke in Mark, "shall I come up and join you? I can
easily put off my round until this evening."
"I would rather you stayed at the surgery for the present," replied
Colin. "A message might come through from Nancy any time, and I
shall have to give Penwarren your address so that he can have
somewhere to reply to. I'll ring you up again about half-past one,
before I see Marsden. We ought to have an answer by then."
"I'll be here," said Mark. "Don't you worry more than you can help.
Even if you're right, Nancy can't be in any real danger; the police
will have her back in a few hours."
"Please God," said Colin fervently.
He replaced the receiver, and, leaving the shop, walked on quickly up
the King's Road until he reached the post office. Here, after
destroying two previous attempts, he wrote out the following wire,
which he signed in Mark's name:
"I shall be very grateful if you will let me know immediately
whether Mr. Penwarren is in London and whether he has any
business to discuss with Miss Nancy Seymour. Miss Seymour is in
my employment. The matter is extremely urgent."
He handed this to the girl behind the counter, and, having paid for a
reply, made his way back to where he had left the car.
He had done everything he could think of for the present, but the
knowledge of this fact deepened rather than lessened his anxiety.
The whole affair was so extraordinary that he had an instinctive
feeling that there must be something evil at the back of it. Was it
likely or even possible that the summons which Nancy had received
could really have come from Mr. Penwarren? Even if he were in town,
for what conceivable reason could he have sent to fetch her at eight
o'clock in the morning? And yet, knowing Nancy's character, it
seemed equally incredible that she should have left the studio under
such circumstances, without being absolutely convinced that the
message was a genuine one.
If she had fallen into a trap, there could be no doubt whose hand had
set it. The affair in Flood Lane proved that, whatever motive lurked
behind Fenton's proceedings, he had now reached a point where nothing
would be allowed to stand in his way. He was certainly quite capable
of having abducted Nancy, though, in view of the hue and cry which he
must have known would immediately follow, it was difficult to imagine
how he could have hoped to avoid discovery. From all appearances it
seemed to be either the work of a madman, or else the final stroke in
some deliberate scheme, the apparent weaknesses of which had been
carefully guarded against.
It was the dread of this latter alternative which was clutching at
Colin's heart as he once more reached the corner of Jubilee Place.
Should it prove to be the true explanation, every minute was
obviously of the greatest value, and the prospect of remaining idle
for the next two hours filled him with an almost intolerable revolt.
Unless he could get hold of Marsden personally, however, it seemed
useless to communicate with the police until he had received a reply
from Helston. They were not likely to take action on mere suspicion,
especially when the Inspector himself had promised to be on the spot
at two o'clock. As to whether there was any chance of his arriving
earlier Colin had no idea, but, since the only other course was to do
nothing, he decided that he might just as well drive up to Whitehall
straight away.
With this resolve he started the car, and, turning down through
Burton Court on to the Embankment, swung round to the left in the
direction of Westminster Bridge. A sharp run of about seven minutes
brought him to the Yard gates, where, as usual, a couple of
stalwart-looking constables were standing on duty. Colin recognized
one of them as his acquaintance of the previous day, and with a
friendly nod he pulled up alongside.
"That's all right, sir," observed the man approvingly. "No objection
to your coming in now we know who you are."
Colin leaned forward from the driving seat.
"Do you happen to know whether Mr. Marsden is about anywhere?" he
asked. "He made an appointment with me for two o'clock, but
something rather important has cropped up, and if possible I should
like to see him at once."
"He hasn't been in this way," was the policeman's answer, "but he
might have come along by one of the other entrances. You can go
inside and inquire, if you like. The officer on duty will be able to
find out for you."
Colin thanked him, and, steering his car through the gates, came to a
halt in front of the broad flight of steps which led up to the main
door.
Another constable advanced inquiringly.
"I don't think so," he replied, in answer to Colin's question; "but
if you like to wait a moment I can let you know for certain."
He disappeared within the building, returning after a short absence
with a significant shake of his head.
"No one's heard anything of him yet, sir. They expect him at two
o'clock, though."
"I know," said Colin. "I've got an appointment with him." He
paused. "Can I leave the car here until then?"
The constable scratched his head. "Well, this ain't exactly a
garage," he replied doubtfully. "Still, if you back her up quite
into that corner----"
He turned aside as he spoke, and, pocketing the five shillings which
Colin slipped into his hand, sauntered back to his former position.
* * * * * * * * *
With the best part of an hour and a half before him Colin came out
into Whitehall and paused irresolutely on the edge of the pavement.
Of all the tasks with which an impatient man can be confronted, that
of killing time is perhaps the most trying. He was not in the least
hungry, and, in any case, there was something ghastly in the thought
of sitting all that while in a half-empty restaurant, brooding
miserably over what might have happened to Nancy. If he wished to
keep his nerves steady, it seemed to him that some form of exercise
was imperatively needed, and, without hesitating further he made his
way across Parliament Green, and struck off westward along the
Embankment.
The soundness of his instinct was proved by the fact that when he
arrived back at Westminster Bridge, after a vigorous tramp of about
six miles, he felt that, whatever the next few hours might bring, his
mind and judgment were once more under proper control. The hands of
Big Ben were already at five and twenty minutes to two, and, knowing
that there was a public telephone in the station, he crossed the road
and entered the box. After a brief delay he succeeded in getting
Mark's number.
"That you, Colin?" came the latter's voice. "Yes, I've just got an
answer to the wire. It arrived a few minutes ago. If you hold on
I'll read it out to you." There was a pause. "'Mr. Penwarren is ill
in bed at Helston. As far as we are aware he has had no
communication with Miss Seymour for the last eighteen months. Should
be glad of an explanation.'"
"It's only what I expected," said Colin quietly. "There must be
something wrong, or Nancy would have let us know long before this."
"Have you told the police?"
"Not yet. I went up to the Yard, but Marsden hadn't arrived, so I
thought I'd better wait until we got the reply from Helston."
"Where are you telephoning from?"
"Westminster Bridge Station. I've arranged to meet Joe close by
here, and, unless anything's happened, he ought to be along in a few
minutes. By that time Marsden will probably have turned up."
There was a pause.
"Well, I'm ready when you want me," observed Mark. "In case there's
going to be trouble, you can count me in to the limit."
"I know that," returned Colin gratefully. "If there's any possible
way in which you can be of help I'll ring you up and let you know."
He put down the receiver, and, leaving the station, walked slowly
round the corner on to the Embankment. A few yards past the entrance
to the Yard, on the opposite side of the road, were a couple of empty
seats facing the river. He crossed over toward the first one, and,
having lighted himself a cigarette, sat down patiently to wait for
Joe.
Just as the opening strokes of a quarter to two were chiming out from
the clock tower, the latter made his appearance. In a quiet and
unobtrusive fashion he slipped suddenly into view round the pedestal
of Boadicea's statue, and at the same moment a grin of recognition
broke over his face as his eyes lit upon Colin. He quickened his
steps, and came rapidly up to the seat.
"Thought you might be early, doctor," he began, "so I come along a
bit ahead o' me time on purpose." He looked round inquiringly. "But
where's the young laidy?"
Colin, who had thrown away his cigarette, rose to his feet. "I've
got some bad news for you, Joe," he said. "Miss Seymour has
disappeared."
Joe's mouth opened, and he gazed blankly at his companion.
"Disappeared!" he repeated.
"She was taken away in a car at eight o'clock this morning. Some one
tricked her into leaving the studio by means of a false message."
With a muttered oath Joe clutched him by the arm.
"Wot, the saime swine that tried to do you in?"
Colin nodded. "Unless I'm wrong, it's the man I spoke to you
about--Major Fenton; the one who was talking to 'Spike' Cooper
outside the station."
"Well, if yer knows that," exclaimed Joe, "wot the 'ell are we
messin' abaht 'ere for? Why don't we go an' wring 'is blarsted neck?"
"Because we've got to find him first," returned Colin curtly.
"That's why I've been waiting to keep this appointment with the
Inspector. The police are after him too, so they may be able to help
us."
Joe wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
"For Gawd's sake let's get over and see 'em, guv'nor. I wouldn't
'ave no 'arm come to that young laidy, not for all the money in the
Bank of England."
Colin gave a queer laugh. "I think I can understand the feeling," he
said.
They crossed the road toward the Yard, where the same two constables
were still on duty.
"You're all right now, mister," remarked one of them. "I saw him
come in by the other way a few minutes ago."
With a nod of thanks Colin passed through the gates, and, followed by
Joe, who kept casting mistrustful glances to right and left, walked
rapidly up to the main entrance.
The recipient of his five-shilling tip stepped forward to meet him.
"Mr. Marsden has just come, sir," he announced. "Told me that when
you and your party arrived I was to bring you in straight away."
"Well, this is my party," said Colin. "At least, all of it that's
likely to turn up."
He beckoned to Joe, who had halted a couple of paces in the rear,
and, mounting the steps, the two of them followed the constable into
the building. He led the way up the staircase to Marsden's room,
where, in response to his knock, the Inspector himself opened the
door. Over his shoulder Colin caught sight of another man in plain
clothes, who was standing with his back to the fire.
"Come along in, doctor," exclaimed the detective. "I've got some one
here you ought to know--Inspector Ainsworth, of the Investigation
Department. He has been doing some rather useful work for you during
the last twenty-four hours."
Colin shook hands with his new acquaintance, a stout, gray-haired
individual, who eyed him with considerable interest.
"And this is our friend Bates, eh?" continued Marsden, turning a
sharp glance on Joe. "But where's Miss Seymour? I thought you were
going to bring her with you."
"You had better hear what I've got to tell you straight away," said
Colin. "Miss Seymour never came to Shadwell this morning. I went up
to her flat just before midday, and I found out from the girl next
door that someone had called for her in a car at eight o'clock with a
letter from her lawyer in Cornwall."
"What, Penwarren?" broke out Marsden. "Impossible! Why, he's
seriously ill down at Helston."
"I know," said Colin. "I sent him a wire at once and I've just got
the answer. The letter was a forgery.
"And Miss Seymour?" demanded Marsden quickly.
"She went away in the car and nothing has been heard of her since."
Marsden took a couple of paces across the room, and then turned to
his colleague.
"I blame myself for this, Ainsworth," he said. "I ought to have had
the place watched."
"That's so," assented the other. "All the same, I don't think
there's any harm done. It's plain enough what they're after, but if
they want to bring it off they'll have to take her abroad. You can't
work that sort of gadget in England."
There was a short pause, which was broken by Marsden. "You had
better get hold of Graham immediately. Tell him that the girl's been
kidnapped, and that an attempt will probably be made to smuggle her
out of the country. They're already on the lookout for Cooper, so it
will only be a matter of sending another message."
Giving a curt nod, Ainsworth strode to the door, and, with an abrupt
change in his manner, Marsden addressed himself to Colin.
"I am sorry this has happened," he said, "especially as it's partly
my fault. I wish to God you could have let me know sooner."
"I came along immediately," retorted Colin, "but you weren't here."
For a moment Marsden hesitated. "Have you any idea who Miss Seymour
really is?" he asked slowly.
Colin stared at him. "What do you mean?" he demanded.
"She is the granddaughter of Professor Carter, and the heiress to
over a quarter of a million of money."
If the Professor himself had suddenly appeared through the doorway
Colin's amazement could hardly have been more complete.
"Good God!" he stammered. "Is this true? Are you certain of it?"
"I am quite certain of it--now," was the answer. "I have suspected
it was so for the last two days, but what I have found out this
morning puts the matter beyond question." He took hold of a chair
and thrust it toward Colin. "Sit down for a moment, doctor. I know
how impatient and anxious you must be feeling, but I can assure you
that I sha'n't waste a second. Before we go any further it's
essential that you should hear the truth."
"Get on with it, then," said Colin hoarsely. "I don't want a chair.
I'd rather stand."
Marsden walked across to his desk and seated himself in front of an
open cardboard file, containing a number of papers.
"Do you remember what I told you the morning after the murder?" he
asked. "That if we could find the Professor's old servant, Kennedy,
we should probably learn something which would alter our whole view
of the case?"
Colin nodded.
"Well, a couple of days ago I got a message from the Hertford police
that they had run him to earth in a small village near Hoddesdon. He
has been paralyzed and bedridden for some months, and as the old
woman who has been looking after him can't even read or write, he
might easily have died without ever hearing of the murder. As it
was, we got hold of him just in time. I went down there yesterday,
and, although he was so ill that he could hardly speak, he managed to
give me the one bit of information that I was so badly in need of.
He told me that twenty-three years ago Nancy Carter, the Professor's
only daughter, then a girl of eighteen, had run away from her home
and married a young artist called Richmond Seymour."
Colin took a step forward, but before he could speak the detective
raised his hand.
"Let me finish first, and then I'll answer any questions you like.
It seems from Kennedy's story that the Professor was one of those
self-willed, obstinate sort of people who simply don't know the
meaning of the word 'forgiveness.' He had forbidden this marriage,
and, since his daughter had chosen to disobey him, he made up his
mind that he would have nothing more to do with her. Kennedy tells
me that from that time forward he never even mentioned her name again.
"Well, to cut a long story short, as soon as I heard this the two
names 'Nancy Seymour' came back to my mind at once. I'd written them
down in my notebook that day in the King's Road, and somehow or other
they'd stuck in my memory ever since. I knew nothing about the young
lady except the fact that she'd helped to save me from having my face
kicked in, but I guessed it was likely that you two had kept in touch
with each other, and so directly I got back to town I 'phoned you to
come up." He paused. "I thought you'd probably be able to give me
some information, doctor, and, by God, you did."
Colin came across to the desk, and, leaning over the back, stared
eagerly in the detective's face.
"Go on, man," he exclaimed: "for heaven's sake tell me what you mean!"
"I mean this," returned Marsden. "You not only convinced me that
Miss Seymour is the Professor's granddaughter, but you opened my eyes
to one of the most remarkable and cleverly laid crimes that it's ever
been my job to tackle."
"Who did it?" demanded Colin. "Who killed the Professor?"
"I am not referring to the murder. I don't believe that had anything
to do with the original scheme. It was an accident--a very awkward
accident, and quite unforeseen. In all probability no one regretted
it more bitterly than the two men who were chiefly responsible for
it--Major Fenton and Mr. Medwin."
"Mr. Medwin!" repeated Colin in a whisper.
"Yes," was the answer. "I'll stake my official reputation that the
whole of this interesting plan originated in the brain of Mr. James
Stanhope Medwin, solicitor, commissioner for oaths, and I should
think about the most complete rascal that ever cheated a client."
Colin drew in a long breath. "I was right then. I felt that he was
up to some devil's work the first time I saw him." He leaned forward
again, his eyes alight with anger. "How did you find all this out?"
"Well, one thing was quite plain; whoever broke into the Red Lodge
the first time was after some particular object which the Professor
kept in his desk. According to his own statement to you, he had
nothing there except his private papers, and, unless my information
was wrong, the only person who was likely to have known this was
Medwin. I always make it a rule in business to suspect everyone, no
matter who they are, and so, in spite of our friend's plausible
manner and professional standing, I put him on the list straight away.
"It was the merest guesswork at first, but when I discovered that the
Professor had left a large fortune and had made no will, I began to
wonder whether this rather important fact had any connection with the
attempt to search his papers. Supposing that Medwin had had reasons
for believing in the existence of a legal heir, but at the same time
had been unable to get hold of any definite information on the
subject. It was quite conceivable--allowing him to be a bad
lot--that he might have arranged the burglary with a little
professional assistance, and, for all we knew, might even have
succeeded in finding out what he wanted.
"The weak point in this theory was the fact that up till then the man
had apparently had an unblemished record. However, I set Ainsworth
to work, and he very soon dug up a few facts which put quite a
different complexion on the matter. He found out that some time ago
our respectable friend, who has always had a taste for speculation,
suddenly became bitten with the Turf. For the past two years he has
been betting heavily with several of the leading bookmakers, and one
of them--we know these gentry pretty well at the Yard--confided to us
that his own profit in the transaction already amounted to a good
many thousand pounds.
"Having got so far, I came more or less to a standstill. I felt
convinced in my own mind that, even if Medwin knew nothing about the
murder, he was certainly up to some hanky-panky with regard to the
money, but it's one thing to believe a man guilty and quite another
to prove it.
"It was my interview with Kennedy, and your story coming on top of
that, which suddenly did the business. I realized at once, then,
that if Miss Seymour was really the Professor's granddaughter, Medwin
and Fenton and this fellow Cooper were probably all in the same game.
No doubt Cooper had been roped in to help with the burglary, and,
although I had no actual evidence that Fenton and Medwin were
friends----"
"I could have told you that," interrupted Colin. "I saw a photograph
of Fenton on his mantelpiece the day he took me to his house."
"Did you?" returned Marsden. "Well, it's a pity you never thought of
mentioning the fact; it might have put me on the right track straight
away. As it is, we've had a fairly strenuous thirty-six hours. Our
people have been ransacking Cornwall and London to verify the truth
of Kennedy's story, and by one o'clock to-day we pretty well
completed our case." He laid his hand on the pile. "I have here all
the evidence of Mrs. Seymour's marriage and death, and the birth
certificate of her daughter. There is no doubt that Miss Seymour was
her only child, and she is therefore the sole heiress to the
Professor's money."
"I've just a couple of questions I want to ask you," said Colin
abruptly. "In the first place, what did these two devils mean to do
with Nancy?"
"Marry her to Fenton before she found out the truth. Unfortunately
for them, the young lady didn't prove such an easy catch as they
expected. I fancy you got most of the credit for that, hence the
happy notion of putting you out of the way."
Colin nodded grimly. "And what exactly is your theory about the
murder?"
"I haven't the least doubt that it was the work of 'Spike' Cooper.
In all probability the other two knew nothing about it. I expect
that when he broke into the house the first time--most likely in
company with Medwin--he took the opportunity of having a look at the
safe. It struck him as being a soft job, and so, without saying a
word to the others, he made up his mind to come back again later on
and see if there was anything worth collecting. Through some cursed
accident the Professor happened to blunder across him, and----"
"But if you know all this," broke out Colin passionately, "why in
God's name haven't you arrested them?"
The Inspector looked up at him with unruffled coolness. "We have
done everything that's possible," he replied. "I can't bring a
charge against Medwin without some actual proof, and we're not likely
to find that until we get hold of Cooper and Fenton. I've a warrant
out for each of them, and it's only a matter of a few hours before
they'll both be in custody."
"And meanwhile----" exclaimed Colin.
"Yes, I know," interrupted the Inspector quickly; "they have managed
to trap the girl. There's no question about that, but you can take
it from me that she's not in any great danger. Every port in England
is being closely watched, and unless they can get her over to the
Continent, and force her into a marriage----"
"Do you think I'm content to sit down here and trust to a lot of
damned country policemen?" shouted Colin hotly. He wheeled round as
he spoke, at the same time beckoning to Joe, who, throughout the
whole interview, had remained standing discreetly in the background.
The Inspector jumped up from his chair. "What are you going to do?"
he demanded.
"Do!" repeated Colin. "I'm going to find Medwin. He'll know where
Nancy is, and I'll get the truth out of him if I have to cut him in
pieces."
He turned toward the door.
"Stop!" said Marsden sharply. He stepped forward, his hard blue eyes
fixed upon the flushed and angry face of his companion.
"You mean this seriously, doctor?"
"O' course 'e does," chimed in Joe; "an' the saime 'ere, mister."
"I mean to find out what they're doing with Nancy," repeated Colin.
"If Medwin won't speak, I'll damned well make him."
For a moment Marsden stood motionless, glancing thoughtfully from one
to the other of them.
"I'm hanged if I haven't a good mind to let you try it," he said,
suddenly. "It's just one of those mad things that might come
off--provided it's properly handled."
"We'll handle it all right," said Colin. "You can trust me for that."
"I hope I can," retorted Marsden. "I tell you frankly that if it
weren't for Miss Seymour I should lock you both up straight away. I
feel, however, that it's my carelessness that's got her into this
mess, and if you can possibly force the truth out of Medwin it may
save her a lot of unpleasantness." He paused. "How do you propose
to set about it?"
"I shall go down to his house," said Colin, "and tax him with the
whole story."
Marsden hesitated. "It will mean showing our cards with a
vengeance," he said, "but as things are I don't know that it really
matters. He'd be bound to take alarm directly he heard of the arrest
of Fenton and Cooper, and however much you frighten him he hasn't a
dog's chance of getting away." He took another step forward, and
contemplated Colin from under his bushy eyebrows. "You quite
understand the position, my young friend. Supposing anything goes
wrong, it will be no use expecting me to help you. From the moment
you leave this office you will be acting entirely on your own
responsibility."
"Of course we shall," said Colin coolly. "The first thing you'll
know about it is when we ring up and tell you the result."
With a faint twitch of his lips the detective held out his hand.
"Good luck to you, doctor," he said. "That young lady deserves _a
man_, and I'll take my oath she's got one."