SIR James’s words came like a bomb-shell. Both girls looked equally
puzzled. The lawyer went across to his desk, and returned with a small
newspaper cutting, which he handed to Jane. Tuppence read it over
her shoulder. Mr. Carter would have recognized it. It referred to the
mysterious man found dead in New York.
“As I was saying to Miss Tuppence,” resumed the lawyer, “I set to work
to prove the impossible possible. The great stumbling-block was the
undeniable fact that Julius Hersheimmer was not an assumed name. When I
came across this paragraph my problem was solved. Julius Hersheimmer set
out to discover what had become of his cousin. He went out West, where
he obtained news of her and her photograph to aid him in his search. On
the eve of his departure from New York he was set upon and murdered. His
body was dressed in shabby clothes, and the face disfigured to prevent
identification. Mr. Brown took his place. He sailed immediately for
England. None of the real Hersheimmer’s friends or intimates saw him
before he sailed--though indeed it would hardly have mattered if they
had, the impersonation was so perfect. Since then he had been hand and
glove with those sworn to hunt him down. Every secret of theirs has been
known to him. Only once did he come near disaster. Mrs. Vandemeyer knew
his secret. It was no part of his plan that that huge bribe should ever
be offered to her. But for Miss Tuppence’s fortunate change of plan, she
would have been far away from the flat when we arrived there. Exposure
stared him in the face. He took a desperate step, trusting in his
assumed character to avert suspicion. He nearly succeeded--but not
quite.”
“I can’t believe it,” murmured Jane. “He seemed so splendid.”
“The real Julius Hersheimmer _was_ a splendid fellow! And Mr. Brown is
a consummate actor. But ask Miss Tuppence if she also has not had her
suspicions.”
Jane turned mutely to Tuppence. The latter nodded.
“I didn’t want to say it, Jane--I knew it would hurt you. And, after
all, I couldn’t be sure. I still don’t understand why, if he’s Mr.
Brown, he rescued us.”
“Was it Julius Hersheimmer who helped you to escape?”
Tuppence recounted to Sir James the exciting events of the evening,
ending up: “But I can’t see _why!_”
“Can’t you? I can. So can young Beresford, by his actions. As a last
hope Jane Finn was to be allowed to escape--and the escape must be
managed so that she harbours no suspicions of its being a put-up job.
They’re not averse to young Beresford’s being in the neighbourhood, and,
if necessary, communicating with you. They’ll take care to get him out
of the way at the right minute. Then Julius Hersheimmer dashes up and
rescues you in true melodramatic style. Bullets fly--but don’t hit
anybody. What would have happened next? You would have driven straight
to the house in Soho and secured the document which Miss Finn would
probably have entrusted to her cousin’s keeping. Or, if he conducted the
search, he would have pretended to find the hiding-place already rifled.
He would have had a dozen ways of dealing with the situation, but the
result would have been the same. And I rather fancy some accident would
have happened to both of you. You see, you know rather an inconvenient
amount. That’s a rough outline. I admit I was caught napping; but
somebody else wasn’t.”
“Tommy,” said Tuppence softly.
“Yes. Evidently when the right moment came to get rid of him--he was too
sharp for them. All the same, I’m not too easy in my mind about him.”
“Why?”
“Because Julius Hersheimmer is Mr. Brown,” said Sir James dryly. “And it
takes more than one man and a revolver to hold up Mr. Brown....”
Tuppence paled a little.
“What can we do?”
“Nothing until we’ve been to the house in Soho. If Beresford has still
got the upper hand, there’s nothing to fear. If otherwise, our enemy
will come to find us, and he will not find us unprepared!” From a drawer
in the desk, he took a service revolver, and placed it in his coat
pocket.
“Now we’re ready. I know better than even to suggest going without you,
Miss Tuppence----”
“I should think so indeed!”
“But I do suggest that Miss Finn should remain here. She will be
perfectly safe, and I am afraid she is absolutely worn out with all she
has been through.”
But to Tuppence’s surprise Jane shook her head.
“No. I guess I’m going too. Those papers were my trust. I must go
through with this business to the end. I’m heaps better now anyway.”
Sir James’s car was ordered round. During the short drive Tuppence’s
heart beat tumultuously. In spite of momentary qualms of uneasiness
respecting Tommy, she could not but feel exultation. They were going to
win!
The car drew up at the corner of the square and they got out. Sir James
went up to a plain-clothes man who was on duty with several others, and
spoke to him. Then he rejoined the girls.
“No one has gone into the house so far. It is being watched at the back
as well, so they are quite sure of that. Anyone who attempts to enter
after we have done so will be arrested immediately. Shall we go in?”
A policeman produced a key. They all knew Sir James well. They had also
had orders respecting Tuppence. Only the third member of the party was
unknown to them. The three entered the house, pulling the door to behind
them. Slowly they mounted the rickety stairs. At the top was the ragged
curtain hiding the recess where Tommy had hidden that day. Tuppence had
heard the story from Jane in her character of “Annette.” She looked at
the tattered velvet with interest. Even now she could almost swear it
moved--as though _some one_ was behind it. So strong was the illusion
that she almost fancied she could make out the outline of a form....
Supposing Mr. Brown--Julius--was there waiting....
Impossible of course! Yet she almost went back to put the curtain aside
and make sure....
Now they were entering the prison room. No place for anyone to hide
here, thought Tuppence, with a sigh of relief, then chided herself
indignantly. She must not give way to this foolish fancying--this
curious insistent feeling that _Mr. Brown was in the house_.... Hark!
what was that? A stealthy footstep on the stairs? There _was_ some one
in the house! Absurd! She was becoming hysterical.
Jane had gone straight to the picture of Marguerite. She unhooked it
with a steady hand. The dust lay thick upon it, and festoons of cobwebs
lay between it and the wall. Sir James handed her a pocket-knife, and
she ripped away the brown paper from the back.... The advertisement
page of a magazine fell out. Jane picked it up. Holding apart the frayed
inner edges she extracted two thin sheets covered with writing!
No dummy this time! The real thing!
“We’ve got it,” said Tuppence. “At last....”
The moment was almost breathless in its emotion. Forgotten the faint
creakings, the imagined noises of a minute ago. None of them had eyes
for anything but what Jane held in her hand.
Sir James took it, and scrutinized it attentively.
“Yes,” he said quietly, “this is the ill-fated draft treaty!”
“We’ve succeeded,” said Tuppence. There was awe and an almost wondering
unbelief in her voice.
Sir James echoed her words as he folded the paper carefully and put it
away in his pocket-book, then he looked curiously round the dingy room.
“It was here that our young friend was confined for so long, was
it not?” he said. “A truly sinister room. You notice the absence of
windows, and the thickness of the close-fitting door. Whatever took
place here would never be heard by the outside world.”
Tuppence shivered. His words woke a vague alarm in her. What if there
_was_ some one concealed in the house? Some one who might bar that door
on them, and leave them to die like rats in a trap? Then she realized
the absurdity of her thought. The house was surrounded by police who,
if they failed to reappear, would not hesitate to break in and make a
thorough search. She smiled at her own foolishness--then looked up with
a start to find Sir James watching her. He gave her an emphatic little
nod.
“Quite right, Miss Tuppence. You scent danger. So do I. So does Miss
Finn.”
“Yes,” admitted Jane. “It’s absurd--but I can’t help it.”
Sir James nodded again.
“You feel--as we all feel-- _the presence of Mr. Bown_. Yes”--as
Tuppence made a movement--“not a doubt of it-- _Mr. Brown is here_....”
“In this house?”
“In this room.... You don’t understand? _I am Mr. Brown_....”
Stupefied, unbelieving, they stared at him. The very lines of his face
had changed. It was a different man who stood before them. He smiled a
slow cruel smile.
“Neither of you will leave this room alive! You said just now we had
succeeded. _I_ have succeeded! The draft treaty is mine.” His smile grew
wider as he looked at Tuppence. “Shall I tell you how it will be? Sooner
or later the police will break in, and they will find three victims of
Mr. Brown--three, not two, you understand, but fortunately the third
will not be dead, only wounded, and will be able to describe the attack
with a wealth of detail! The treaty? It is in the hands of Mr. Brown. So
no one will think of searching the pockets of Sir James Peel Edgerton!”
He turned to Jane.
“You outwitted me. I make my acknowledgments. But you will not do it
again.”
There was a faint sound behind him, but, intoxicated with success, he
did not turn his head.
He slipped his hand into his pocket.
“Checkmate to the Young Adventurers,” he said, and slowly raised the big
automatic.
But, even as he did so, he felt himself seized from behind in a grip of
iron. The revolver was wrenched from his hand, and the voice of Julius
Hersheimmer said drawlingly:
“I guess you’re caught redhanded with the goods upon you.”
The blood rushed to the K.C.’s face, but his self-control was
marvellous, as he looked from one to the other of his two captors. He
looked longest at Tommy.
“You,” he said beneath his breath. “_You!_ I might have known.”
Seeing that he was disposed to offer no resistance, their grip
slackened. Quick as a flash his left hand, the hand which bore the big
signet ring, was raised to his lips....
“‘_Ave, Cæsar! te morituri salutant_,’” he said, still looking at
Tommy.
Then his face changed, and with a long convulsive shudder he fell
forward in a crumpled heap, whilst an odour of bitter almonds filled the
air.