doesn’t make love to you. Well, he was here and his mamma and--oh,
Mr. Fortune, you’ve seen them. They want shocking. So I talked to
Bunny and----”
“And I came in with both feet,” said Captain Cosdon. “My scheme
really, Fortune, all my scheme.”
“All?” Reggie asked with some emphasis.
“Good Lord, not what’s happened.”
“I thought we should come to that some day. What did happen?”
And they all began to talk at once. From which tumult emerged the
clear little voice of Sally. “Bunny slipped out early and put a
garden ladder up at my window and then went off to the powerhouse.
When I went to bed, I collected Tom’s pots from the study--that was
because he is so vain of them--and Alice’s cameos--that’s because
they’re so dowdy--and locked them in my trunk. Then I screamed at the
window. That was the signal for Bunny and he switched the lights out
and came back. All that was what we planned.” She looked pathetically
at Reggie. “It was a good crime, wasn’t it, Mr. Fortune?”
“You have a turn for the profession, Miss Winslow. You will try to be
too clever. It’s the mark of the criminal mind.”
“I say, hang it all, Fortune----” Cosdon flushed.
“I know I spoilt it,” said Sally meekly. “I just stood there, you
know, hearing Tom roar downstairs and you all fussing----”
“And you underrate the policeman. Do I fuss?” Reggie was annoyed.
“You’re fussing over my morals now. Well, I stood there and it came
over me the burglars just had to have something of Mrs. Faulks’s.”
She gurgled. “That would make it quite perfect. So I ran into her
room and struck a match and there was her awful old ruby brooch. I
took that and went out into the passage and screamed again. That was
the plan. Then I bumped into somebody----”
“That was me,” said Captain Cosdon. “She was such a jolly long time
with the second scream I went up to see if anything was wrong----”
“Yes. The criminal will do too much,” Reggie sighed.
“Then Faulks came. He tumbled into us and hit out, silly ass. I heard
Sally go down and I let him have it. Confound him.”
Sally smiled at him affectionately.
“Oh yes, it’s devilish funny, isn’t it?” cried Tom Beach. “Good God,
Cosdon, you’re not fit to be at large. A nice thing you’ve let me in
for.”
“Well, you’ve all been very ingenious,” said Reggie. “Thanks for a
very jolly evening. May I have some breakfast?” There was a silence
which could be felt.
“Mr. Fortune,” said Sally, “that awful brooch is gone.”
“Yes, that’s where we slipped up,” said Cosdon. “Sally must have
dropped it when that fool knocked her out. I went out last night to
hunt for it and it wasn’t there.”
“Really?”
Reggie’s tone was sardonic and Cosdon flushed at it. “What do you
mean?”
“Well, somebody found it, I suppose. That’s the working hypothesis.”
He reduced them to the dismal condition in which he found them.
“There you are!” Colonel Beach cried. “Some one of the servants saw
the beastly thing and thought there was a chance to steal it. It’s a
ghastly business. I’ll have to go through them for it and catch some
poor devil who would have gone straight enough if you hadn’t played
the fool. It’s not fair, confound it.”
There was a tap at the door. Mrs. Faulks was asking if the Colonel
would speak to her. The Colonel groaned and went out.
“Do you mind if I have some breakfast, Mrs. Beach?” said Reggie
plaintively.
They seemed to think him heartless but offered no impediment. A
dejected company slunk downstairs. It occurred to Reggie, always a
just man, that Sam also might be hungry and he ran out to take him
off guard.
When he came back to the breakfast-room, he found that Faulks had
joined the party. It was clear that no one had dared to tell him the
truth. They were gazing in fascinated horror at the many colours
which swelled about his right eye, and his scowl was terrible.
“Hallo, Faulks! Stout fellow,” said Reggie, brightly. “How’s the
head?”
Mr. Faulks turned the scowl on him. Mr. Faulks found his head very
painful. He had had practically no sleep. He feared some serious
injury to the nerves. He must see a doctor. And his tone implied that
as a doctor and a man Reggie was contemptible.
Reggie served himself generously with bacon and mushrooms and began
to eat. No one else was eating but Mr. Faulks. He, in a domineering
manner, smote boiled eggs. The others played with food like
passengers in a rolling ship.
The door was opened. The austere shape of Mrs. Faulks stalked in and
behind her Tom Beach slunk to his place. Mrs. Faulks’s compressed
face wore a look of triumph.
Sally half rose from her chair. “Oh, Mrs. Faulks,” she cried, “have
you found your rubies?”
“Really!” said Mrs. Faulks with a freezing smile. “No, Miss Winslow,
I have not found my rubies.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Mrs. Faulks stared at her. “I imagine there is only one thing to be
done. I have desired Colonel Beach to send for the police. I should
have thought that was obvious.”
“Oh, Tom, you mustn’t!” Sally cried.
“Really! My dear, you don’t realize what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I do. You don’t understand, Mrs. Faulks; you see it was like
this----” and out it all came with the Colonel trying to stop it in
confused exclamations, and Mrs. Faulks and her heavy son sinking
deeper and deeper into stupefaction.
“The whole affair was a practical joke?” said Faulks thickly.
“That’s the idea, old thing,” Cosdon assured him.
“Yes, yes, don’t you see it?” Sally giggled.
“I never heard anything so disgraceful,” Faulks pronounced.
“I say, go easy,” Cosdon cried.
Mrs. Faulks had become pale. “Am I expected to believe this?” she
looked from Tom to Alice.
“Oh, Mrs. Faulks, I am so sorry,” Alice Beach said. “It was too bad.
And it’s really all my fault.”
“I--I--you say you stole my rubies?” Mrs. Faulks turned upon Sally.
“Come, come, the child took them for a joke,” Colonel Beach protested.
“I took them, yes--and then I lost them. I’m most awfully sorry about
that.”
“Are you indeed. Am I to believe this tale, Colonel Beach? Then pray
who stole my diamond necklace?”
She produced an awful silence. She seemed proud of it, and in a
fascination of horror the conspirators stared at her.
“Diamond necklace!” Sally cried. “I never saw it.”
“My necklace is gone. I don’t profess to understand the ideas of
joking in this house. But my necklace is gone.”
“Oh, my lord,” said Cosdon. “That’s torn it.”
“The snowball!” Alice gasped. “It is a snowball. Everything gets in
something else.”
“Really!” said Mrs. Faulks (her one expletive). “I do not understand
you.”
Reggie arose and cut himself a large portion of cold beef.
“If this was a practical joke,” said the solemn voice of Faulks, “who
struck me?”
“That was me, old thing,” Cosdon smiled upon him.
“But strictly speakin’,” said Reggie as he came back and took more
toast, “that’s irrelevant.”
“Colonel Beach!” Mrs. Faulks commanded the wretched man’s attention,
“what do you propose to do?”
“We shall have to have the police,” he groaned.
“Oh, yes, it’s a case for the police,” said Reggie cheerfully. “Have
you a telegraph form, Colonel?”
“It’s all right, Fortune, thanks. I’ll telephone.”
“Yes, encourage local talent. But I would like to send a wire to
Scotland Yard.”
“Scotland Yard!” Mrs. Faulks was impressed. Mrs. Faulks smiled on him.
“Well, you know, there are points about your case, Mrs. Faulks. I
think they would be interested.”
Like one handing his own death warrant, Colonel Beach put down some
telegraph forms. Reggie pulled out his pencil, laid it down again and
took some marmalade. “Valuable necklace, of course, Mrs. Faulks?” he
said blandly. “Quite so. The one you wore the night before last? I
remember. I remember.” He described it. Mrs. Faulks approved and
elaborated his description. “That’s very clear. Are your jewels
insured? Yes, well that is a certain consolation.” He adjusted his
pencil and wrote. “I think this will meet the case.” He gave the
telegram to Mrs. Faulks.
Mrs. Faulks read it, Mrs. Faulks seemed unable to understand. She
continued to gaze at it, and the wondering company saw her grow red
to the frozen coils of her hair.
Reggie was making notes on another telegraph form. He read out slowly
a precise description of the lost necklace. “That’s it, then,” he
said. “By the way, who are you insured with?”
Mrs. Faulks glared at him. “I suppose this is another joke.”
“No,” Reggie shook his head. “This has gone beyond a joke.”
“Where is my brooch, then? Who has my brooch?”
“I have,” said Reggie. He pulled it out of his pocket and laid it on
her plate. “I found the brooch in the passage. I didn’t find the
necklace, Mrs. Faulks. So I should like to send that telegram.”
“You will do nothing of the kind. I won’t have anything done. The
whole affair is disgraceful, perfectly disgraceful. I forbid you to
interfere. Do you understand, I forbid it? Colonel Beach! It is
impossible for me to stay in your house after the way in which you
have allowed me to be treated. Please order the car.”
She stalked out of the room.
“Fortune!” said Faulks thunderously. “Will you kindly explain
yourself?”
“I don’t think I need explaining. But you might ask your mother. She
kept the telegram.” And to his mother Mr. Faulks fled.
“Good God, Fortune, what have you done?” Tom Beach groaned.
“Not a nice woman,” said Reggie sadly. “Not really a nice woman.” He
stood up and sought the fire and lit a cigar and sighed relief.
“Mr. Fortune, what was in that telegram?” Sally cried.
Reggie sat down on the cushioned fender. “I don’t think you’re really
a good little girl, you know,” he shook his head at her and surveyed
the company. “Broadly speakin’ you ought all to be ashamed of
yourselves. Except the Colonel.”
“Please, Mr. Fortune, I’ll never do it again,” said Alice
plaintively. “Tom----” she sat on the arm of her husband’s chair and
caressed him.
“All right, all right,” he submitted. “But I say, Fortune, what am I
to do about Mrs. Faulks?”
“She’s done all there is to do. No, not a nice woman.”
Sally held out her small hands. “Please! What did you say in that
telegram?”
“‘Lomas, Scotland Yard. Jewel robbery Colonel Beach’s house curious
features tell post office stop delivery registered packet posted
Cranston this morning nine examine contents Reginald Fortune Cranston
Regis.’”
“I don’t understand.”
“She did. Sorry to meddle with anyone in your house. Colonel, but she
would have it. You won’t have any trouble.”
“But what’s the woman done?” the Colonel cried.
“Well, you know, she’s been led into temptation. When she thought
burglars had taken her brooch it seemed to her that she might as well
recover from the insurance people for something else too. That’s the
worst of playing at crime, Mrs. Beach. You never know who won’t take
it seriously. What made me cast an eye at Mrs. Faulks was her saying
last night that she wasn’t sure whether she had lost anything else. I
can’t imagine Mrs. Faulks not sure about anything. She’s sure she’s
an injured woman now. And I’ll swear she always has an inventory of
all her jeweller’s shop in her head.”
“She has,” said Alice Beach pathetically. “You should hear her talk
of her jewels.”
“Heaven forbid. But you see, Miss Winslow, it’s the old story, you
criminals always try to be too clever. She thought it wouldn’t be
enough to say she’d lost her diamonds. She wanted them well out of
the way so that the police could search and not find them. So she
scurried off to the post office and sent them away in a registered
packet. Thus, as you criminals will, underratin’ the intelligence of
the simple policeman. My man Sam was looking out to see if anyone did
anything unusual this morning and he observed Mrs. Faulks’s manœuvres
at the post office----”
“And you had her cold!” Cosdon cried.
“Yes. Yes, a sad story.”
“She didn’t really mean any harm,” said Sally. “Did she, Mr. Fortune?”
Reggie looked at her sadly. “You’re not a moral little girl, you
know,” he said.
CASE VI
THE LEADING LADY
MR. REGINALD FORTUNE sent his punt along at the rate of knots. From
the cushions the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department
protested. “Why this wanton display of skill? Why so strenuous?”
“It’s good for the figure, Lomas.”
“Have you a figure?” said Lomas bitterly. It is to be confessed that
a certain solidity distinguishes Reggie Fortune. Years of service as
the scientific adviser of Scotland Yard have not marred the pink and
white of his cherubic face, but they have brought weight to a body
never svelte.
Mr. Fortune let the punt drift. “That’s vulgar abuse. What’s the
matter, old thing?”
“I dislike your horrible competence. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I don’t think so,” said Mr. Fortune modestly. “Jack of all trades
and master of none. That is why I am a specialist.”
The Hon. Sidney Lomas sat up. “Secondly, I resent your hurry to get
rid of me. Thirdly, as I am going up to London to work and you are
going back in this punt to do nothing, I should like to annoy you.
Fourthly and lastly I know that I shan’t, and that embitters me. Does
anything ever annoy you, Fortune?”
“Only work. Only the perverse criminal.”
Lomas groaned. “All criminals are perverse.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Most crime is a natural product.”
“Of course fools are natural,” said Lomas irritably. “The most
natural of all animals. And if there were no fools--I shouldn’t spend
the summer at Scotland Yard.”
“Well, many criminals are weak in the head.”
“That’s why a policeman’s life is not a happy one.”
“But most of ’em are a natural product. Opportunity makes the thief
or what not--and there but for the grace of God go I. Circumstances
lead a fellow into temptation.”
“Yes. I’ve wanted to do murder myself. But even with you I have
hitherto refrained. There’s always a kink in the criminal’s mind
before he goes wrong. Good Gad!” He dropped his voice. “Did you see
her?”
Mr. Fortune reproved him. “You’re so susceptible, Lomas. Control
yourself. Think of my reputation. I am known in these parts.”
“Who is she? Lady Macbeth?”
“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow! I thought you were a student of
the drama. She’s not tragic. She’s comedy and domestic pathos. Tea
and tears. It was Rose Darcourt.”
“Good Gad!” said Lomas once more. “She looked like Lady Macbeth after
the murder.”
Reggie glanced over his shoulder. From the shade of the veranda of
the boat-house a white face stared at him. It seemed to become aware
of him and fled. “Indigestion perhaps,” he said. “It does feel like
remorse. Or have you been trifling with her affections, Lomas?”
“I wouldn’t dare. Do you know her? She looks a nice young woman for a
quiet tea-party. Passion and poison for two.”
“It’s the physique, you know,” said Mr. Fortune sadly. “When they’re
long and sinuous and dark they will be intense. That’s the etiquette
of the profession. But it’s spoiling her comedy. She takes everything
in spasms now and she used to be quite restful.”
“Some silly fool probably told her she was a great actress,” Lomas
suggested.
Mr. Fortune did not answer. He was steering the punt to the bank. As
it slid by the rushes he stooped and picked out of the water a large
silk bag. This he put down at Lomas’s feet, and saying, “Who’s the
owner of this pretty thing?” once more drove the punt on at the rate
of knots.
Lomas produced from the bag a powder-puff, three gold hair-pins and
two handkerchiefs. “The police have evidence of great importance,” he
announced, “and immediate developments are expected. S. Sheridan is
the culprit, Fortune.”
“Sylvia Sheridan?” Reggie laughed. “You know we’re out of a paragraph
in a picture paper. ‘On the river this week-end all the stars of the
stage were shining. Miss Rose Darcourt was looking like Juliet on the
balcony of her charming boat-house and I saw Miss Sylvia Sheridan’s
bag floating sweetly down stream. Bags are worn bigger than ever this
year. Miss Sheridan has always been famous for her bags. But this was
really dinky!’”
At the bridge he put Lomas into his car and strolled up to leave Miss
Sheridan’s bag at the police-station.
The sergeant was respectfully affable (Mr. Fortune is much petted by
subordinates) and it took some time to reach the bag. When Ascot and
the early peas and the sergeant’s daughter’s young man had been
critically estimated, Mr. Fortune said that he was only calling on
the lost property department to leave a lady’s bag. “I just picked it
out of the river,” Reggie explained. “No value to anybody but the
owner. Seems to belong to Miss Sylvia Sheridan. She’s a house down
here, hasn’t she? You might let her know.”
The sergeant stared at Mr. Fortune and breathed hard. “What makes you
say that, sir?”
“Say what?”
“Beg pardon, sir. You’d better see the inspector.” And the sergeant
tumbled out of the room.
The inspector was flurried. “Mr. Fortune? Very glad to see you, sir.
Sort of providential your coming in like this. Won’t you sit down,
sir? This is a queer start. Where might you have found her bag, Mr.
Fortune?”
“About a mile above the bridge,” Reggie opened his eyes. “Against the
reed bank below Miss Darcourt’s boat-house.”
Inspector Oxtoby whistled. “That’s above Miss Sheridan’s cottage.” He
looked knowing. “Things don’t float upstream, Mr. Fortune.”
“It’s not usual. Why does that worry you?”
“Miss Sheridan’s missing, Mr. Fortune. I’ve just had her housekeeper
in giving information. Miss Sheridan went out last night and hasn’t
been seen since. Now you’ve picked up her bag in the river above her
house. It’s a queer start, isn’t it?”
“But only a start,” said Reggie gently. “We’re not even sure the bag
is hers. The handkerchiefs in it are marked S. Sheridan. But some
women have a way of gleaning other women’s handkerchiefs. Her
housekeeper ought to know her bag. Did her housekeeper know why she
went out?”
“No, sir. That’s one of the things that rattled her. Miss Sheridan
went out after dinner alone, walking. They thought she was in the
garden and went to bed. In the morning she wasn’t in the house. She
wasn’t in the garden either.”
“And that’s that,” said Reggie. “Better let them know at Scotland
Yard. They like work.” And he rose to go. It was plain that he had
disappointed Inspector Oxtoby, who asked rather plaintively if there
was anything Mr. Fortune could suggest. “I should ask her friends,
you know,” said Mr. Fortune, wandering dreamily to the door. “I
should have a look at her house. There may be something in it,” and
he left the inspector gaping.
Reggie Fortune is one of the few people in England who like going to
the theatre. The others, as you must have noticed, like this kind of
play or that. Mr. Fortune has an impartial and curious mind and tries
everything. He had therefore formed opinions of Sylvia Sheridan and
Rose Darcourt which are not commonly held. For he was unable to take
either of them seriously. This hampered him, and he calls the case
one of his failures.
On the next morning he came back from bathing at the lasher to hear
that the telephone had called him. He took his car to Scotland Yard
and was received by Superintendent Bell. That massive man was even
heavier than usual. “You’ll not be pleased with me, Mr. Fortune----”
he began.
“If you look at me like that I shall cry. Two hours ago I was in nice
deep bubbly water. And you bring me up to this oven of a town and
make me think you’re a headmaster with the gout and I’ve been a rude
little boy.”
“Mr. Lomas said not to trouble you,” the Superintendent mourned. “But
I put it to him you’d not wish to be out of it, Mr. Fortune.”
“Damn it, Bell, don’t appeal to my better nature. That’s infuriating.”
“It’s this Sheridan case, sir. Miss Sheridan’s vanished.”
“Well, I haven’t run away with her. She smiles too much. I couldn’t
bear it.”
“She’s gone, sir,” Bell said heavily. “She was to have signed her
contract as leading lady in Mr. Mark Woodcote’s new play. That was
yesterday. She didn’t come. They had no word from her. And yesterday
her servants gave information she had disappeared----”
“I know. I was there. So she hasn’t turned up yet?”
“No, sir. And Mr. Lomas and you, you found her bag in the river. That
was her bag.”
“Well, well.” said Reggie. “And what’s the Criminal Investigation
Department going to do about it?”
“Where’s she gone, Mr. Fortune? She didn’t take her car. She’s not
been seen at Stanton station. She’s not at her flat in town. She’s
not with any of her friends.”
“The world is wide,” Reggie murmured.
“And the river’s pretty deep, Mr. Fortune.”
At this point Lomas came in. He beamed upon them both, he patted
Bell’s large shoulder, he came to Reggie Fortune. “My dear fellow!
Here already! ‘Duty, stern daughter of the voice of God,’ what? How
noble--and how good for you!”
Reggie looked from his jauntiness to the gloom of Bell. “Tragedy and
comedy, aren’t you?” he said. “And very well done, too. But it’s a
little confusing to the scientific mind.”
“Well, what do you make of it?” Lomas dropped into a chair and lit a
cigarette. “Bell’s out for blood. An Actress’s Tragedy. Mystery of
the Thames. Murder or Suicide? That sort of thing. But it seems to me
it has all the engaging air of an advertisement.”
“Only it isn’t advertised, sir,” said Bell. “Twenty-four hours and
more since she was reported missing, and not a word in the papers
yet. That don’t look like a stunt. It looks more like somebody was
keeping things quiet.”
“Yes. Yes, you take that trick, Bell,” Reggie nodded. “Who is this
remarkable manager that don’t tell all the newspapers when his
leading lady’s missing?”
“Mr. Montgomery Eagle, sir.”
“But he runs straight,” said Reggie.
“Oh Lord, yes,” Lomas laughed. “Quite a good fellow. Bell is so
melodramatic in the hot weather. I don’t think Eagle is pulling my
leg. I suspect it’s the lady who is out for a little free
advertisement. To be reported missing--that is a sure card. On the
placards, in the headlines, unlimited space in all the papers. Wait
and see, Bell. The delay means nothing. She couldn’t tell her Press
agent to send in news of her disappearance. It wouldn’t be artistic.”
Superintendent Bell looked at him compassionately. “And I’m sure I
hope you’re right, sir,” he said. “But it don’t look that way to me.
If she wanted to disappear for a joke why did she go and do it like
this? These young ladies on the stage, they value their comforts. She
goes off walking at night with nothing but what she stood up in. If
you ask me to believe she meant to do the vanishing act when she went
out of her house, I can’t see how it’s likely.”
“Strictly speakin’,” said Reggie, “nothing’s likely. Why did she go
out, Bell? To keep an appointment with her murderer?”
“I don’t see my way, sir. I own it. But there’s her garden goes down
to the river--suppose she just tumbled into the water--she might be
there now.”
“The bag,” said Reggie dreamily. “The bag, Bell. It didn’t float
upstream, and yet we found it above her garden. She couldn’t have
been walking along the bank. The towpath is the other side. The bag
came into the river from a boat--or from the grounds of another
house.”
Lomas laughed. “My dear Fortune, I like your earnest simplicity. It’s
a new side to your character and full of charm. I quite agree the bag
is interesting. I think it’s conclusive. A neat and pretty touch. The
little lady threw it into the river to give her disappearance
glamour.”
“Rather well thrown,” said Reggie. “Say a quarter of a mile. Hefty
damsel.”
“Oh, my dear fellow, she may have taken a boat, she may have crossed
and walked up the towpath.”
“Just to get her bag into the river above her house? Why would she
want to put it in above her house? She couldn’t be sure that it would
stay there. It might have sunk. It might have drifted a mile farther.”
Lomas shrugged. “Well, as you say. But we don’t know that the bag was
lost that night at all. She may have dropped it out of a boat any
time and anywhere.”
“Yes, but plenty of boats go up and down that reach. And we found it
bright and early the morning after she vanished. Why didn’t anybody
else find it before? I rather fancy it wasn’t there, Lomas.”
“What’s your theory, Mr. Fortune?” said Bell eagerly.
“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow! I don’t know the lady.”
“They say she’s a sportive maiden,” Lomas smiled. “I’ll wager you’ll
have a run for your money, Bell.”
Reggie Fortune considered him severely. “I don’t think it’s a race to
bet on, Lomas, old thing.”
It was about this time that Mr. Montgomery Eagle’s name was brought
in. “Will you see him, Mr. Lomas?” Bell said anxiously.
“Oh Lord, no. I have something else to do. Make him talk, that’s all
you want.”