Aylmer waited for some time before he went down to breakfast. His
loathing for Quentin was now so great that he shrank from a meeting,
feeling doubtful if his powers of self-control were strong enough to
prevent him from showing in his altered demeanor the hatred that
possessed him. Both Quentin and Martyn were men of remarkable
punctuality, never late at meals, and they did not stay long at table.
If he waited another half an hour, the chances were he would find them
gone.
When, at length, he went down to the dining room, he was relieved to
find there was nobody at their usual table but Whitefield. As he
seated himself, the American looked up, and nodded a cheerful
good-morning.
“I notice you have come in late to meals on one or two occasions,” he
remarked in a low voice. “I was late on purpose myself this morning. I
suppose the same motive has actuated both. You are of a calmer
temperament than I, but you find it difficult to sit cheek by jowl
with such a pair of skunks and keep on talking and smiling as if there
was nothing at the back of your mind. Think how much more difficult it
is for me, who am ready to explode over the most trifling thing. I
have been thinking a lot over what you told me. In fact I haven’t
thought of much else since, and I am sure, when you do make up your
mind to speak, I shall hear some astounding revelations.”
As a matter of course, Aylmer was now in a position to give the
American some information of the utmost importance. Yesterday he had
entertained only the strongest suspicions; this morning he was
absolutely sure of certain facts. The American’s shrewd eyes were
fixed on him, their intense regard seemed to intimate pretty plainly
that he guessed something had occurred since that long conversation
between them.
“I take it you have not been idle since we talked together,” he said.
“You have been pursuing those investigations to which you referred.
Has there been any result? When there was, you will remember you
promised to take me into your confidence. I don’t want to force you in
any way, but you can guess I am eaten up with a very natural
curiosity. I have parted with ten thousand pounds, and your
discouraging attitude compels me to think I might as well have thrown
it in the gutter.”
There was an intensity in Whitefield’s manner as he uttered those last
words, an almost childish eagerness which made it difficult for Aylmer
to refrain from confiding in him to some limited extent. But, though
very impulsive in many things, there was a certain vein of caution in
the young man’s temperament when he was engaged in serious matters,
more especially when they were concerned with other people. Therefore,
knowing the character of the man, he resolved not to trust him till he
could trust him fully--till he was so positive that there was no
longer any reason for secrecy. His case against Quentin was complete
in certain particulars; but he felt convinced it would attain fuller
completion in the course of the next twenty-four hours.
He therefore kept Whitefield’s impatience in check by a reply that was
neither frank nor evasive. “I have found out something, certainly; but
you must forgive me for not wishing to make any disclosures at the
moment. I have got to go a good deal further before I can speak. When
I do, you will not have to complain of my lack of candor.”
There was nothing for Whitefield to do except to acquiesce in the
young man’s resolute attitude, which he did, not perhaps with a very
good grace. Having been used to dominate for the best part of his
life, he was never ready to submit to the domination of others. Still,
he was a sportsman, and after a moment or two of private resentment,
he was compelled to recognize a strength of character which matched
his own.
“I think you are carrying your policy of reticence to a rather
ridiculous extent, and I admit I find it difficult to keep my temper,”
he said. “Still, I can’t help admiring you for the dogged way in which
you keep to the course you have planned out. Well, you’re not going to
tell me anything till you’re quite ready. It seems I have no option
but to accept that. However, I’ll be more frank with you. I overheard
something last night which it may interest you to know, something
which may or may not be of use to you. I came upon Quentin and Martyn
suddenly. They were sitting close together and talking in very low
tones. They didn’t know I was so close upon them, and when they saw
me, they both looked a bit confused.”
Aylmer pricked up his ears. “I should certainly like you to tell me,
Mr. Whitefield. It may be that it is important, but from their air of
confusion it was evidently something they did not wish you to
overhear.”
“I don’t pretend to be physically the man I was, say, ten years ago;
mentally, I think I may boast without vanity I am quite as good,
perhaps a shade better, because I have ten years’ additional
experience which I have made good use of. But to return to the
physical side; there is one faculty I have preserved unimpaired, a
very acute sense of hearing. They were talking together so very
quietly that most people would not have caught anything. But I did
manage to pick up a few words spoken by Martyn to his companion. He
appeared to be talking very emphatically at that particular moment,
and I think unconsciously he raised his voice a trifle. These were the
words: ‘I tell you I am not going to take part or lot in it. I never
have approved of this kind of thing. I shall clear out to-morrow.’ Can
you make anything out of that?”
Aylmer nodded. “Yes, I think it does help me up to a certain point, so
far as regards Martyn. So he is going to clear out, is he?”
“Not a doubt of it,” was Whitefield’s answer. “I got down this morning
just as they were on the point of finishing their breakfast; I had
hoped to escape them altogether, but I had mistimed myself a bit. You
managed it better than I did; but I can see you’re a very calculating
chap, you’re not handicapped by any impatience. Well, we were not
together at the table for more than five minutes. But, during that
time Martyn took the opportunity of telling me he was leaving before
lunch.”
“Did he say where he was going? Did he give any explanation of his
sudden departure?”
“He certainly didn’t say where he was going. He did mumble something
about being fed up with Nice, said it was a place he had never cared
much for.”
“You didn’t notice anything particular about Quentin, while Martyn was
giving you this explanation.”
“I thought both he and Martyn looked at me rather hard. It crossed my
mind they were wondering if I had overheard them the previous night
and watching my expression. I flatter myself I showed nothing; I can
put on a mask, when I like. Well, you say the little incident helps
you, somewhat. There is something in which Martyn doesn’t want to
join. I expect you have a shrewd guess as to what it is.”
Aylmer could not repress a slight smile at the American’s persistent
efforts to draw him. “Yes, Mr. Whitefield, I will not deny that I have
a certain suspicion, but at present it is nothing more than a
suspicion. You really mustn’t try to entrap me with these unexpected
questions. Just now you gave me a sort of promise to possess your soul
in patience. If my intuitions are right, I do not think you will have
to wait very long before you know as much as I do.”
But the American found it a very hard matter to keep his promise. “How
much longer are you going to keep me on the rack, Aylmer? Shall I know
anything to-night, to-morrow morning?”
Aylmer hesitated before he answered the impatient man. He had made up
his mind that Quentin would strike quickly; but, he could not forecast
his action to within a few hours. Would the departure of Martyn
precipitate, or delay, his plans? On the whole, he was inclined to
think it would make no difference.
“Hardly to-night, Mr. Whitefield; very possibly some time to-morrow,”
was the young man’s guarded reply.
The three men met round the lunch table. Quentin talked the most
during the progress of the meal. But, to Aylmer’s watchful eyes it
seemed that he was not his usual self, that his thoughts were
continually wandering to some inner subject of contemplation.
“You have heard we have lost our friend Martyn?” he said, in one of
his rather spasmodic attempts at conversation. “He charged me with his
farewells to you, Mr. Aylmer; he had previously said good-by to Mr.
Whitefield at breakfast. By the way, we did not see you at that meal.
You are usually such a very punctual person--the first to put in an
appearance, as a general rule.”
Was there suspicion in the glance that Quentin bent on him? After a
moment’s hesitation, Aylmer decided in the negative. He had made a
remark on a very trivial incident, simply for the want of something to
say, with the object of keeping up a flagging conversation, in which
he was not greatly assisted by his two companions.
No, the young man felt quite easy in his mind. Quentin might be a very
clever man in his own sinister way, but he could have no idea that at
the present juncture he was confronted with one whose intelligence was
equal in subtlety to his own. The only thing that could make him
uneasy was the suspicion that Whitefield had overheard those
mysterious words uttered by Martyn. But the American was behaving very
circumspectly. His manner did not, in the least, give him away to the
wary and watchful observer who sat opposite to him.
“Our party has suffered a serious reduction,” went on Quentin
presently, in his desire to keep the ball of conversation rolling.
“The unfortunate necessity of Eileen’s going to England, and now the
unexpected defection of Martyn. I feel a bit aggrieved by his making
such a sudden bolt of it. But he was always that sort of chap; you
could never place any reliance on him. If he gave his promise to stay
a month with you, as likely as not he would make some excuse to be off
at the end of the first week.”
That afternoon Aylmer paid another visit to the town and made some
purchases, amongst them being a pillow-case exactly resembling in
quality and appearance the ones that were in use at the hotel.
This he took away with him, but before he returned to the Negresco, he
paid a visit to a certain Monsieur Dumont, who resided at Nice the
greater part of the year, and whose acquaintance he had first made in
Paris. They had been attracted to each other by their mutual interest
in criminology.
Monsieur Dumont was a well-set-up, clear-complexioned man of about
fifty-five years of age. He was supposed to be one of the greatest
toxicologists in Europe, and was constantly consulted by the police of
different countries in baffling and mysterious cases.
They had met some dozen times since their first fore-gathering in
Paris; and, of course, like all men with a hobby in common, they
usually talked about crime and criminals.
Monsieur Dumont welcomed his young friend with the utmost cordiality,
and very soon the talk between them flowed into the old familiar
channels. There had been some half a dozen outstanding cases of crime
since they had last seen each other, and they discussed the details of
them with the gusto of experts.
Then presently, when this topic was exhausted, Aylmer disclosed the
reasons which had induced him to seek his old acquaintance.
“I am doing a little detective business on my own account and may
shortly want your assistance. I cannot be sure at the moment. The
intuitions which I have so strongly at the present time may be all
wrong, the outcome of a too vivid imagination, of a too great faculty
of reconstructing. You remember my discussing with you the death of my
relative, Sir Charles Reeks, shortly after it took place?”
“Perfectly,” was the answer of the great toxicologist whose reputation
was European. “The medical verdict was that he died suddenly from
heart disease. Against that you had the knowledge that he had never
suffered from his heart, that he had passed different Insurance
offices as a first-class life. Further, that a sum of several
thousands, which he had drawn in cash shortly before his death, was
missing, and there was no trace of anybody to whom the money had been
paid. You deduced from these facts a very probable theory of foul
play, and I was disposed to consider your theory a perfectly feasible
one.”
Aylmer smiled. “I see your memory is as good as ever it was. Well, now
I am going to tell you a very strange story.”
For half an hour the eminent scientist listened to a lucid relation of
important facts, on which had been built a certain logical set of
inferences. When the recital was finished, Monsieur Dumont spoke.
“My young friend, I congratulate you on possessing the analytical
faculty in a quite remarkable degree. You would not blush to find
yourself in the company of some of the best professional detectives of
crime. If history is going to repeat itself--and you are quite
justified in envisaging the possibility that it will--you will find in
Mr. Whitefield’s room what you suspect. In that case, you will want my
assistance, which, of course, I shall be most pleased to give you.
There is, naturally, the chance that you may draw a blank, in which
case I shall not be needed. But from what you have told me, bearing in
mind the positive identification of the finger-prints, I believe you
will find your suspicions corroborated.”
“I think the best thing will be for me to ’phone you up either way,
whether I find something or nothing. So expect a call any time between
eight and nine,” said Aylmer as the two men shook hands at parting.
“Right,” replied Monsieur Dumont. “Now, I will just run through it
again to make quite sure that we understand the arrangement. If you
ring me up to say you have drawn a blank, of course I don’t come into
the thing at all--at any rate, for the present. If the contrary, I
send round my messenger to the Negresco for a parcel. In that case,
you shall have my analysis as soon as possible. But I cannot give any
guarantee as to the length of time it will take. It may be a matter of
an hour or two, or of several hours.”
“And as soon as you have anything to communicate, you will ring me up
in my own room at any hour convenient to yourself. Good-by,” were
Aylmer’s last words to Monsieur Dumont.
That night, at dinner, Quentin was late; he did not put in an
appearance till the other two were half through the meal. “It is my
turn to be late this time, Mr. Aylmer; I am afraid your unpunctuality
is becoming infectious.”
He smiled as he indulged in this little joke; but there seemed a hard
glitter in the man’s eyes, a somber expression on his face which
betokened some agitating thoughts. A quick suspicion of the reason of
Quentin’s long delay darted through Aylmer’s mind.
When they went into the lounge after dinner, the young man drew
Whitefield aside, out of earshot of Quentin.
“Now, I want you to hold him in conversation for the next half hour.
Get him on the subject of American railways, he will listen forever;
you know how the topic interests him. I’m going to do a little
investigation, and I want to make sure he isn’t spying after me. Mind
you, I don’t believe he has any suspicion of what I am about to do;
but he’s frightfully artful, and he may be treasuring something up
that his wife let out the other day.”
Whitefield looked at him keenly, but he did not ask him any questions.
He knew the young man by now, that he would keep his own counsel as
long as he chose.
The American indulged in his usual habit, when perplexed, of rubbing
his grey hair. “I think I can improve on your suggestion. He may be a
bit tired of railways now, and beat a hasty retreat, with the result
that he will run across you just at the moment when you don’t want
him. I’ll get him on to billiards, we’re both a pair of duffers and
our game will spin out the time comfortably. Well, good luck to you;
the sooner you find something that enables you to unlock your tongue,
the better I shall be pleased.”
Aylmer greeted this petulant little sally with a smile, and mounted
the staircase which led to the various bedrooms.