HAGN
A MINUTE later Ella came to the door to call them.
“Was that a car went past?” she asked, and they detected a note of
anxiety in her tone.
“Yes,” said Elk, “it was a big car. Didn’t see who was in it, but it was
a big car.”
Dick heard her sigh of relief.
“Will you come in, please?” she said. “Breakfast is waiting for you.”
They left half an hour later, and each man was so busy with his own
thoughts that Dick did not speak until they were passing the villas
where the body of Genter had been found. It was near Horsham that Genter
was killed, he remembered with a little shudder. Outside of Horsham he
himself had seen the dead man’s feet extended beyond the back of a
motor-van. Hagn should die for that; whether he was Frog or not, he was
party to that murder. As if reading his thoughts, Elk turned to him and
said:
“Do you think your evidence is strong enough to hang Hagn?”
“I was wondering,” said Dick. “There is no supporting evidence,
unfortunately, but the car which you have under lock and key, and the
fact that the garage keeper may be able to identify him.”
“With his beard?” asked Elk significantly. “There is going to be some
difficulty in securing a conviction against this Frog, believe me,
Captain Gordon. And unless old Balder induces him to make a statement,
we shall have all the difficulty in the world in convincing a jury.
Personally,” he added, “if I was condemned to spend a night with Balder,
I should tell the truth, if it was only to get rid of him. He’s a pretty
clever fellow, is Balder. People don’t realize that—he has the makings
of a first-class detective, if we could only get him to take a happier
view of life.”
He directed the driver to go straight to the door of Cannon Row.
Dick’s mind was on another matter.
“What did she want with Maitland?” he asked.
Elk shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “Of course, she might have been persuading
him to take back her brother, but old Maitland isn’t the kind of
adventurer who’d get up in the middle of the night to discuss giving Ray
Bennett his job back. If he was a younger man, yes. But he’s not young.
He’s darned old. And he’s a wicked old man, who doesn’t care two cents
whether Ray Bennett is working at his desk for so much per, or whether
he’s breaking stones on Dartmoor. I tell you, that’s one of the minor
mysteries which will be cleared up when we get the Frog piece in its
place.”
The car stopped at the entrance of Cannon Row police-station, and the
men jumped down. The desk sergeant stood up as they came in, and eyed
them wonderingly.
“I’m going to take Balder out, sergeant.”
“Balder?” said the man in surprise. “I didn’t know Balder was in.”
“I put him in with Hagn.”
A light dawned upon the station official.
“That’s queer. I didn’t know it was Balder,” he said. “I wasn’t on duty
when he came in, but the other sergeant told me that a man had been put
in with Hagn. Here is the gaoler.”
That official came in at that moment, and was as astonished as the
sergeant to learn the identity of the second prisoner.
“I had no idea it was Balder, sir,” he said. “That accounts for the long
talk they had—they were talking up till one o’clock.”
“Are they still talking?” asked Elk.
“No, sir, they’re sleeping now. I had a look at them a little time
ago—you remember you gave me orders to leave them alone and not to go
near them.”
Dick Gordon and his subordinate followed the gaoler down a long passage
faced with glazed brick, the wall of which was studded at intervals by
narrow black doors. Reaching the end of the corridor, they turned at
right angles. The second passage had only one door, and that was at the
end. Snapping back the lock, the gaoler threw open the door, and Elk
went in.
Elk went to the first of the figures and pulled aside the blanket which
covered the face. Then, with an oath, he drew the blanket clear.
It was Balder, and he was lying on his back, covered from head to foot
with a blanket. A silk scarf was twisted round his mouth; his wrists
were not only handcuffed but strapped, as were his legs.
Elk dashed at the second figure, but as he touched the blanket, it sank
under his hands. A folded coat, to give resemblance to a human figure, a
pair of battered shoes, placed artificially at the end of the
blanket—these were all. Hagn had disappeared!
When they got the man into Elk’s office, and had given him brandy, and
Elk, by sheer bullying, had reduced him to coherence, Balder told his
story.
“I think it was round about two o’clock when it happened,” he said. “I’d
been talking all the evening to this Hagn, though it was very clear to
me, with my experience, that he spotted me the moment I came in, as a
police officer, and was kidding me along all the evening. Still, I
persevered, Mr. Elk. I’m the sort of man that never says die. That’s the
peculiar thing about me——”
“The peculiar thing about you,” said Elk wearily, “is your passionate
admiration of Balder. Get on!”
“Anyway, I did try,” said Balder in an injured voice; “and I thought I’d
got over his suspicion, because he began talking about Frogs, and
telling me that there was going to be a wireless call to all the heads
to-night—that is, last night. He told me that Number Seven would never
be captured, because he was too clever. He asked me how Mills had been
killed, but I’m perfectly sure, the way he put the question, that he
knew. We didn’t talk very much after one, and at a quarter-past one I
lay down, and I must have gone to sleep almost at once. The first thing
I knew was that they were putting a gag in my mouth. I tried to
struggle, but they held me——”
“They?” said Elk. “How many were there?”
“There may have been two or three—I’m not certain,” said Balder. “If it
had been only two, I think I could have managed, for I am naturally
strong. There must have been more. I only saw two besides Hagn.”
“Was the cell door open?”
“Yes, sir, it was ajar,” said Balder after he had considered a moment.
“What did they look like?”
“They were wearing long black overcoats, but they made no attempt to
hide their faces. I should know them anywhere. They were young men—at
least, one was. What happened after that I don’t know. They put a strap
round my legs, pulled the blanket over me, and that’s all I saw or heard
until the cell door closed. I have been lying there all night, sir,
thinking of my wife and children . . .”
Elk cut him short, and, leaving the man in charge of another police
clerk, he went across to make a more careful examination of the cell.
The two passages were shaped like a capital L, the special cell being at
the end of the shorter branch. At the elbow was a barred door leading
into the courtyard, where men waiting trial were loaded into the
prison-van and distributed to various places of detention. The warder
sat at the top of the L, in a small glass-panelled cubby-hole, where the
cell indicators were. Each cell was equipped with a bell-push in case of
illness, and the signals showed in this tiny office. From where he sat,
the warder commanded, not only a view of the passage, but a side view of
the door. Questioned, he admitted that he had been twice into the
charge-room for a few minutes at a time; once when a man arrested for
drunkenness had demanded to see a doctor, and another time, about
half-past two in the morning, to take over a burglar who had been
captured in the course of the night.
“And, of course, it was during that time that the men got away,” said
Elk.
The door into the courtyard was locked but not bolted. It could be
opened from either side. The cell door could also open from both sides.
In this respect it differed from every other cell in the station; but
the explanation was that it was frequently used for important prisoners,
whom it was necessary to subject to lengthy interrogations; and the lock
had been chosen to give the police officers who were inside an
opportunity of leaving the cell when they desired, without calling for
the gaoler. The lock had not been picked, neither had the lock of the
yard door.
Elk sent immediately for the policemen who were on duty at either
entrance of Scotland Yard. The officer who was on guard at the
Embankment entrance had seen nobody. The man at the Whitehall opening
remembered seeing an inspector of police pass out at half-past two. He
was perfectly sure the officer was an inspector, because he wore the
hanging sword-belt, and the policeman had seen the star on his shoulder
and had saluted him—a salute which the officer had returned.
“This may or may not be one of them,” said Elk. “If it is, what happened
to the other two?”
But here evidence failed. The men had disappeared as though they had
dissipated into air.
“We’re going to get a roasting for this, Captain Gordon,” said Elk; “and
if we escape without being scorched, we’re lucky. Fortunately, nobody
but ourselves knows that Hagn has been arrested; and when I say
‘ourselves,’ I wish I meant it! You had better go home and go to bed; I
had some sleep in the night. If you’ll wait while I send this bleating
clerk of mine home to his well-advertised wife and family, I’ll walk
home with you.”
Dick was waiting on the edge of Whitehall when Elk joined him.
“There will be a departmental inquiry, of course. We can’t help that,”
he said. “The only thing that worries me is that I’ve got poor old
Balder into bad odour, and I was trying to put him right. I don’t know
what the experience of the Boy Scouts is,” he went off at a tangent,
“but my own is that the worst service you can render to any man is to
try to do him a good turn.”
It was now nearly ten o’clock, and Dick was feeling faint with hunger
and lack of sleep, for he had eaten nothing at Horsham. Once or twice,
as they walked toward Harley Terrace, Elk looked back over his shoulder.
“Expecting anybody?” asked Dick, suddenly alive to the possibility of
danger.
“No-o, not exactly,” said Elk. “But I’ve got a hunch that we’re being
followed.”
“I saw a man just now who I thought was following us,” said Dick, “a man
in a fawn raincoat.”
“Oh, him?” said Elk, indifferent alike to the rules of grammar and the
presence of his shadow. “That is one of my men. There’s another on the
other side of the road. I’m not thinking of them, my mind for the moment
being fixed on Frogs. Do you mind if we cross the road?” he asked
hurriedly, and, without waiting for a reply, caught Gordon’s arm and led
him across the broad thoroughfare. “I always object to walking on the
same side of a street as the traffic runs. I like to meet traffic; it’s
not good to be overtaken. I thought so!”
A small Ford van, painted with the name of a laundry, which had been
crawling along behind them, suddenly spurted and went ahead at top
speed. Elk followed the car with his eyes until it reached the Trafalgar
Square end of Whitehall. Instead of branching left toward Pall Mall or
right to the Strand, the van swung round in a half-circle and came back
to meet them. Elk half turned and made a signal.
“This is where we follow the example of the chicken,” said Elk, and made
another hurried crossing.
When they reached the pavement he looked round. The detectives who were
following him had understood his signal, and one had leaped on the
running-board of the van, which was pulled up to the pavement. There was
a few minutes’ talk between the driver and the officer, and then they
all drove off together.
“Pinched,” said Elk laconically. “He’ll take him to the station on some
charge or other and hold him. I guessed he’d see what I was after—my
man, I mean. The easiest way to shadow is to shadow in a trade truck,”
said Elk. “A trade van can do anything it likes; it can loiter by the
pavement, it can turn round and go back, it can go fast or slow, and
nobody takes the slightest notice. If that had been a limousine, it
would have attracted the attention of every policeman by drawling along
by the pavement, so as to overtake us just at the right minute. Probably
it wasn’t any more than a shadow, but to me,” he said with a quiver of
his shoulder, “it felt rather like sudden death!”
Whether Elk’s cheerfulness was assumed or natural, he succeeded in
impressing his companion.
“Let’s take a cab,” said Dick, and such was his doubt that he waited for
three empty taxis to pass before he hailed the fourth. “Come in,” said
Dick when the cab dropped them at Harley Terrace. “I’ve got a spare room
if you want to sleep.”
Elk shook his head to the latter suggestion, but accompanied Gordon into
the house. The man who opened the door had evidently something to say.
“There’s a gentleman waiting to see you, sir. He’s been here for half an
hour.”
“What is his name?”
“Mr. Johnson, sir.”
“Johnson?” said Dick in surprise, and hurried to the dining-room, into
which the visitor had been ushered.
It was, indeed, “the philosopher,” though Mr. Johnson lacked for the
moment evidence of that equilibrium which is the chiefest of his
possessions. The stout man was worried; his face was unusually long; and
when Dick went into the room, he was sitting uncomfortably on the edge
of a chair, as he had seen him sitting at Heron’s Club, his gloomy eyes
fixed upon the carpet.
“I hope you’ll forgive me for coming to see you, Captain Gordon,” he
said. “I’ve really no right to bring my troubles to you.”
“I hope your troubles aren’t as pressing as mine,” smiled Dick as he
shook hands. “You know Mr. Elk?”
“Mr. Elk is an old friend,” said Johnson, almost cheerful for a second.
“Well, what is your kick?—sit down, won’t you?” said Dick. “I’m going
to have a real breakfast. Will you join me?”
“With pleasure, sir. I’ve eaten nothing this morning. I usually have a
little lunch about eleven, but I can’t say that I feel very hungry. The
fact is, Captain Gordon, I’m fired.”
Dick raised his eyebrows.
“What—has Maitland fired you?”
Johnson nodded.
“And to think that I’ve served the old devil all these years faithfully,
on a clerk’s salary! I’ve never given him any cause for complaint, I’ve
handled hundreds of thousands—yes, and millions! And although it’s not
for me to blow my own trumpet, I’ve never once been a penny out in my
accounts. Of course, if I had been, he would have found it out in less
than no time, for he is the greatest mathematician I’ve ever met. And as
sharp as a needle! He can write twice as fast as any other man I’ve
known,” he added with reluctant admiration.
“It’s rather curious that a man of his uncouth appearance and speech
should have those attainments,” said Dick.
“It’s a wonder to me,” confessed Johnson. “In fact, it has been a
standing wonder to me ever since I’ve known him. You’d think he was a
dustman or a tramp, to hear him talk, yet he’s a very well-read man, of
extraordinary educational qualities.”
“Can he remember dates?” asked Elk.
“He can even remember dates,” replied Johnson seriously. “A queer old
man, and in many ways an unpleasant old man. I’m not saying this because
he’s fired me; I’ve always had the same view. He’s without a single
spark of kindness; I think the only human thing about him is his love
for this little boy.”
“What little boy?” asked Elk, immediately interested.
“I’ve never seen him,” said Johnson. “The child has never been brought
to the office. I don’t know who he is or whose he is; I’ve an idea he’s
a grandchild of Maitland’s.”
There was a pause.
“I see,” said Dick softly, and well he did see, for in that second began
his understanding of the Frog and the secret of the Frog.
“Why were you fired?” he asked.
Johnson shrugged his shoulders.
“Over a stupid thing; in fact, it’s hardly worth talking about. It
appears the old man saw me at Heron’s Club the other night, and ever
since then he’s been going carefully into my petty cash account,
probably under the impression that I was living a fast life! Beyond the
usual grousing, there was nothing in his manner to suggest that he
intended getting rid of me; but this morning, when I came, I found that
he had already arrived, which was an unusual circumstance. He doesn’t as
a rule get to the office until about an hour after we start work.
‘Johnson,’ he said, ‘I understand that you know a Miss Ella Bennett.’ I
replied that I was fortunate enough to know the lady. ‘And I
understand,’ he went on, ’that you’ve been down there to lunch on one or
two occasions.’ ‘That is perfectly true, Mr. Maitland,’ I replied. ‘Very
well, Johnson,’ said Maitland, ‘you’re fired.’”
“And that was all?” asked Dick in amazement.
“That was all,” said Johnson in a hushed voice. “Can you understand it?”
Dick could have said yes, but he did not. Elk, more curious, and
passionately anxious to extend his knowledge of the mysterious Maitland,
had something to ask.
“Johnson, you’ve been right close to this man Maitland for years. Have
you noticed anything about him that’s particularly suspicious?”
“Like what, Mr. Elk?”
“Has he had any visitors for whom you couldn’t account? Have you known
him, for example, to do anything which would suggest to you that he had
something to do with the Frogs?”
“The Frogs?” Johnson opened his eyes wide, and his voice emphasized his
incredulity. “Bless you, no! I shouldn’t imagine he knows anything about
these people. You mean the tramps who have committed so many crimes? No,
Mr. Elk, I’ve never heard or seen or read anything which gave me that
impression.”
“You’ve seen the records of most of his transactions; are there any that
he has made which would lead you to believe that he had benefited, say,
by the death of Mr. Maclean in Dundee, or by the attack which was made
upon the woollen merchant at Derby? For example, do you know whether he
has been engaged in the buying or selling of French brandies or
perfumes?”
Johnson shook his head.
“No, sir, he deals only in real estate. He has properties in this
country and in the South of France and in America. He has done a little
business in exchanges; in fact, we did a very large exchange business
until the mark broke.”
“What are you going to do now, Mr. Johnson?” asked Dick.
The other made a gesture of helplessness.
“What can I do, sir?” he asked. “I am nearly fifty; I’ve spent most of
my working life in one job, and it is very unlikely that I can get
another. Fortunately for me, I’ve not only saved money, but I have had
one or two lucky investments, and for those I must be grateful to the
old man. I don’t think he was particularly pleased when he found that
I’d followed his advice, but that’s beside the question. I do owe him
that. I’ve just about enough money to keep me for the rest of my life if
I go quietly and do not engage in any extraordinary speculations. Why I
came to see you was to ask you, Captain Gordon, if you had any kind of
opening. I should like a little spare time work, and I’d be most happy
to work with you.”
Dick was rather embarrassed, because the opportunities for employing Mr.
Johnson were few and far between. Nevertheless, he was anxious to help
the man.
“Let me give the matter a day or two’s thought,” he said. “What is
Maitland doing for a secretary?”
“I don’t know. That is my chief worry. I saw a letter lying on his desk,
addressed to Miss Ella Bennett, and I have got an idea that he intends
offering her the job.”
Dick could hardly believe his ears.
“What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know, sir, only once or twice the old man has inquired whether
Ray has a sister. He took quite an interest in her for two or three
days, and then let the matter drop. It is as astonishing as anything he
has ever done.”
Elk for some reason felt immensely sorry for the man. He was so
obviously and patently unfitted for the rough and tumble of competition.
And the opportunities which awaited a man of fifty worn to one groove
were practically non-existent.
“I don’t know that I can help you either, Mr. Johnson,” he said. “As far
as Miss Bennett is concerned, I imagine that there is no possibility of
her accepting any such offer, supposing Maitland made it. I’ll have your
address in case I want to communicate with you.”
“431, Fitzroy Square,” replied Johnson, and produced a somewhat soiled
card with an apology. “I haven’t much use for cards,” he said.
He walked to the door and hesitated with his hand on its edge.
“I’m—I’m very fond of Miss Bennett,” he said, “and I’d like her to know
that Maitland isn’t as bad as he looks. I’ve got to be fair to him!”
“Poor devil!” said Elk, watching the man through the window as he walked
dejectedly along Harley Terrace. “It’s tough on him. You nearly told him
about seeing Maitland this morning! I saw that, and was ready to jump
in. It’s the young lady’s secret.”
“I wish to heaven it wasn’t,” said Dick sincerely, and remembered that
he had asked Johnson to stay to breakfast.