AT THE DOCTOR'S FLAT
Dr. van Heerden did not hurry his departure from his Staines house. He
spent the morning following Oliva's marriage in town, transacting
certain important business and making no attempt to conceal his comings
and goings, though he knew that he was shadowed. Yet he was well aware
that every hour that passed brought danger nearer. He judged (and
rightly) that his peril was not to be found in the consequences to his
detention of Oliva Cress well.
"I may have a week's grace," he said to Milsom, "and in the space of a
week I can do all that I want."
He spent the evening superintending the dismantling of apparatus in the
shed, and it was past ten o'clock on Tuesday before he finished.
It was not until he was seated by Milsom's side in the big limousine and
the car was running smoothly through Kingston that he made any further
reference to the previous afternoon.
"Is Beale content?" he asked.
"Eh?"
Milsom, dozing in the corner of the car, awoke with a start.
"Is Beale content with his prize--and his predicament?" asked van
Heerden.
"Well, I guess he should be. That little job brings him a million. He
shouldn't worry about anything further."
But van Heerden shook his head.
"I don't think you have things quite right, Milsom," he said. "Beale is
a better man than I thought, and knows my mind a little too well. He was
astounded when Homo claimed to be a priest--I never saw a man more
stunned in my life. He intended the marriage as a bluff to keep me away
from the girl. He analysed the situation exactly, for he knew I was
after her money, and that she as a woman had no attraction for me. He
believed--and there he was justified--that if I could not marry her I
had no interest in detaining her, and engaged Homo to follow him around
with a special licence. He timed everything too well for my comfort."
Milsom shifted round and peered anxiously at his companion.
"How do you mean?" he asked. "It was only by a fluke that he made it in
time."
"That isn't what I mean. It is the fact that he knew that every second
was vital, that he guessed I was keen on a quick marriage and that to
forestall me he carried his (as he thought) pseudo-clergyman with him so
that he need not lose a minute: these are the disturbing factors."
"I don't see it," said Milsom, "the fellow's a crook, all these Yankee
detectives are grafters. He saw a chance of a big rake off and took it,
fifty-fifty of a million fortune is fine commission!"
"You're wrong. I'd like to think as you do. Man! Can't you see that his
every action proves that he knows all about the Green Rust?"
"Eh?"
Milsom sat up.
"How--what makes you say that?"
"It's clear enough. He has already some idea of the scheme. He has been
pumping old Heyler; he even secured a sample of the stuff--it was a
faulty cultivation, but it might have been enough for him. He surmised
that I had a special use for old Millinborn's money and why I was in a
hurry to get it."
The silence which followed lasted several minutes.
"Does anybody except Beale know? If you settled him...?"
"We should have to finish him to-night" said van Heerden, "that is what
I have been thinking about all day."
Another silence.
"Well, why not?" asked Milsom, "it is all one to me. The stake is worth
a little extra risk."
"It must be done before he finds the Paddington place; that is the
danger which haunts me." Van Heerden was uneasy, and he had lost the
note of calm assurance which ordinarily characterized his speech. "There
is sufficient evidence there to spoil everything."
"There is that," breathed Milsom, "it was madness to go on. You have all
the stuff you want, you could have closed down the factory a week ago."
"I must have a margin of safety--besides, how could I do anything else?
I was nearly broke and any sign of closing down would have brought my
hungry workers to Krooman Mansions."
"That's true," agreed the other, "I've had to stall 'em off, but I
didn't know that it was because you were broke. It seemed to me just a
natural reluctance to part with good money."
Further conversation was arrested by the sudden stoppage of the car. Van
Heerden peered through the window ahead and caught a glimpse of a red
lamp.
"It is all right," he said, "this must be Putney Common, and I told
Gregory to meet me with any news."
A man came into the rays of the head-lamp and passed to the door.
"Well," asked the doctor, "is there any trouble?"
"I saw the green lamp on the bonnet," said Gregory (Milsom no longer
wondered how the man had recognized the car from the score of others
which pass over the common), "there is no news of importance."
"Where is Beale?"
"At the old man's hotel. He has been there all day."
"Has he made any further visits to the police?"
"He was at Scotland Yard this afternoon."
"And the young lady?"
"One of the waiters at the hotel, a friend of mine, told me that she is
much better. She has had two doctors."
"And still lives?" said the cynical Milsom. "That makes four doctors she
has seen in two days."
Van Heerden leant out of the car window and lowered his voice.
"The Fraeulein Glaum, you saw her?"
"Yes, I told her that she must not come to your laboratory again until
you sent for her. She asked when you leave."
"That she must not know, Gregory--please remember."
He withdrew his head, tapped at the window and the car moved on.
"There's another problem for you, van Heerden," said Milsom with a
chuckle.
"What?" demanded the other sharply.
"Hilda Glaum. I've only seen the girl twice or so, but she adores you.
What are you going to do with her?"
Van Heerden lit a cigarette, and in the play of the flame Milsom saw him
smiling.
"She comes on after me," he said, "by which I mean that I have a place
for her in my country, but not----"
"Not the sort of place she expects," finished Milsom bluntly. "You may
have trouble there."
"Bah!"
"That's foolish," said Milsom, "the convict establishments of England
are filled with men who said 'Bah' when they were warned against jealous
women. If," he went on, "if you could eliminate jealousy from the human
outfit, you'd have half the prison warders of England unemployed."
"Hilda is a good girl," said the other complacently, "she is also a good
German girl, and in Germany women know their place in the system. She
will be satisfied with what I give her."
"There aren't any women like that," said Milsom with decision, and the
subject dropped.
The car stopped near the Marble Arch to put down Milsom, and van Heerden
continued his journey alone, reaching his apartments a little before
midnight. As he stepped out of the car a man strolled across the street.
It was Beale's watcher. Van Heerden looked round with a smile, realizing
the significance of this nonchalant figure, and passed through the lobby
and up the stairs.
He had left his lights full on for the benefit of watchers, and the
hall-lamp glowed convincingly through the fanlight. Beale's flat was in
darkness, and a slip of paper fastened to the door gave his address.
The doctor let himself into his own rooms, closed the door, switched
out the light and stepped into his bureau.
"Hello," he said angrily, "what are you doing here?--I told you not to
come."
The girl who was sitting at the table and who now rose to meet him was
breathless, and he read trouble in her face. He could have read pride
there, too, that she had so well served the man whom she idolized as a
god.
"I've got him, I've got him, Julius!"
"Got him! Got whom?" he asked, with a frown.
"Beale!" she said eagerly, "the great Beale!"
She gurgled with hysterical laughter.
"He came to me, he was going to arrest me to-night, but I got him."
"Sit down," he said firmly, "and try to be coherent, Hilda. Who came to
you?"
"Beale. He came to my boarding-house and wanted to know where you had
taken Oliva Cresswell. Have you taken her?" she asked earnestly.
"Go on," he said.
"He came to me full of arrogance and threats. He was going to have me
arrested, Julius, because of those letters which I gave you. But I
didn't worry about myself, Julius. It was all for you that I thought.
The thought that you, my dear, great man, should be put in one of these
horrible English prisons--oh, Julius!"
She rose, her eyes filled with tears, but he stood over her, laid his
hands on her shoulders and pressed her back.
"Now, now. You must tell me everything. This is very serious. What
happened then?"
"He wanted me to take him to one of the places."
"One of what places?" he asked quickly.
"I don't know. He only said that he knew that you had other houses--I
don't even know that he said that, but that was the impression that he
gave me, that he knew you were to be found somewhere."
"Go on," said the doctor.
"And so I thought and I thought," said the girl, her hands clasped in
front of her, her eyes looking up into his, "and I prayed God would
give me some idea to help you. And then the scheme came to me, Julius. I
said I would lead him to you."
"You said you would lead him to me?" he said steadily, "and where did
you lead him?"
"To the factory in Paddington," she said.
"There!" he stared at her.
"Wait, wait, wait!" she said, "oh, please don't blame me! I took him
into the passage with the doors. I borrowed his light, and after we had
passed and locked the second door I slipped through the third and
slammed it in his face."
"Then----"
"He is there! Caught! Oh, Julius, did I do well? Please don't be angry
with me! I was so afraid for you!"
"How long have you been here?" he asked.
"Not ten minutes, perhaps five minutes, I don't know. I have no
knowledge of time. I came straight back to see you."
He stood by the table, gnawing his finger, his head bowed in
concentrated thought.
"There, of all places!" he muttered; "there, of all places!"
"Oh, Julius, I did my best," she said tearfully.
He looked down at her with a little sneer.
"Of course you did your best. You're a woman and you haven't brains."
"I thought----"
"You thought!" he sneered. "Who told you you could think? You fool!
Don't you know it was a bluff, that he could no more arrest me than I
could arrest him? Don't you realize--did he know you were in the habit
of coming here?"
She nodded.
"I thought so," said van Heerden with a bitter laugh. "He knows you are
in love with me and he played upon your fears. You poor little fool!
Don't cry or I shall do something unpleasant. There, there. Help
yourself to some wine, you'll find it in the tantalus."
He strode up and down the room.
"There's nothing to be done but to settle accounts with Mr. Beale," he
said grimly. "Do you think he was watched?"
"Oh no, no, Julius"--she checked her sobs--"I was so careful."
She gave him a description of the journey and the precautions she had
taken.
"Well, perhaps you're not such a fool after all."
He unlocked a drawer in his desk and took out a long-barrelled Browning
pistol, withdrew the magazine from the butt, examined and replaced it,
and slipped back the cover.
"Yes, I think I must settle accounts with this gentleman, but I don't
want to use this," he added thoughtfully, as he pushed up the
safety-catch and dropped the weapon in his pocket; "we might be able to
gas him. Anyway, you can do no more good or harm," he said cynically.
She was speechless, her hands, clasped tightly at her breast, covered a
damp ball of handkerchief, and her tear-stained face was upturned to
his.
"Now, dry your face." He stooped and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"Perhaps what you have done is the best after all. Who knows? Anyway,"
he said, speaking his thoughts aloud, "Beale knows about the Green Rust
and it can't be very long before I have to go to earth, but only for a
little time, my Hilda." He smiled, showing his white teeth, but it was
not a pleasant smile, "only for a little time, and then," he threw up
his arms, "we shall be rich beyond the dreams of Frankfurt."
"You will succeed, I know you will succeed, Julius," she breathed, "if I
could only help you! If you would only tell me what you are doing! What
is the Green Rust? Is it some wonderful new explosive?"
"Dry your face and go home," he said shortly, "you will find a detective
outside the door watching you, but I do not think he will follow you."
He dismissed the girl and followed her after an interval of time,
striding boldly past the shadow and gaining the cab-stand in Shaftesbury
Avenue without, so far as he could see, being followed. But he dismissed
the cab in the neighbourhood of Baker Street and continued his journey
on foot. He opened the little door leading into the yard but did not
follow the same direction as the girl had led Stanford Beale. It was
through another door that he entered the vault, which at one time had
been the innocent repository of bubbling life and was now the factory
where men worked diligently for the destruction of their fellows.