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The Master Detective

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This was the solution. It was proved beyond all doubt that Bridwell had
been dealing in Government secrets, and changes had to be made to ensure
that the information he had sold should be useless to the purchasers; but
this crime had nothing to do with his murder. The dénouement was rather
startling. When we went to Ormrod's house next day we found that he had
gone. His wife, after fencing with us a little, was perfectly open. She
had arranged to go away with Bridwell and had visited him that day to
talk over final arrangements. It was the first time she had ever been to
the flat. Yesterday, a telegram had come for her husband. He opened it
in her presence, and told her he was going away at once, and for good.
Then he gave her the bag, saying he had found it in Bridwell's rooms on
the previous evening. Bridwell was dead, that was why he was going away.

The solicitor Standish was a friend of Ormrod's, and after Quarles had
gone had suddenly realized what the inquiry might mean, so had
telegraphed a warning.




CHAPTER VII

THE STOLEN AEROPLANE MODEL


It was probably on account of the acumen he had shown in solving the
mystery of Arthur Bridwell's death that the government employed Quarles
in the important inquiry concerning a stolen model. For political reasons
nothing got into the papers at the time, but now there is no further need
of secrecy.

You would have been astonished, I fancy, had you chanced upon us in the
empty room at Chelsea on a certain Friday afternoon. No trio of sane
persons could have looked more futile. On a paper pad the professor was
making odd diagrams which might have represented a cubist's idea of an
aeroplane collision; Zena was looking at her hands as if she had
discovered something new and unfamiliar about them; and I was turning the
leaves of my pocket book, hoping to get an inspiration.

"The man-servant," said Zena, breaking the silence, which had lasted a
long time.

"You have said that a dozen times in the last twenty-four hours," Quarles
returned rather shortly, adding after a moment's pause, as if he were
giving us valuable information, "and to-day is Friday."

"It is simply impossible that the servant should know so little," she
persisted. "His ignorance is too colossal to be genuine. He doesn't know
whether he was attacked by one person or by half-a-dozen; he is not sure
that it wasn't a woman who seized him; he has no idea what his master
kept in the safe or in the cupboard. Well, all I can say is, I do not
believe him."

I was inclined to agree with her, but in silence I went on looking
through the notes I had made concerning the extraordinary case which
must be solved quickly if the solution were to be of any benefit to
the country. Quarles was also silent, continuing his work as an
amateur cubist.

He had expressed no definite opinion since the case had come into his
hands, nor had he laughed at any speculation of mine, a sure sign that he
was barren of ideas. I had never known him so reticent.

It was his case entirely, not mine, and the fact that the government had
considered he was the only man likely to get to the bottom of the mystery
was a recognition of his powers, which pleased him no doubt. Twenty-four
hours had elapsed since he had been put in possession of the facts, and
although they had been spent in tireless energy by both of us--for he had
immediately sent for me--we seemed as far from the truth as ever.

On the previous Tuesday Lady Chilcot had given a dance in her house in
Mayfair. Her entertainments always had a political flavor, and on this
particular evening her rooms seemed to have been full of conflicting
influences.

There was considerable political tension at the time, consequent upon one
of those periodical disturbances in the Balkans, and people remarked upon
the coolness between the Minister for War and certain ambassadors who
were all present at Lady Chilcot's.

Imagination may have had something to do with this conclusion, but two
apparently trivial incidents assumed importance as regards the case in
hand. The Silesian ambassador was seen in very earnest conversation with
a young man attached to the Silesian Embassy; and the Minister of War
had buttonholed young Lanning.

Of course, we did not know what the Silesians had talked about, but to
Lanning the minister had remarked that, in view of the political
situation, the experiments which had been witnessed that day might prove
to be of supreme importance. Lanning expressed gratification that the
experiments had been found convincing, and ventured to hope the
government would not delay getting to work.

With the minister's assurance that the government was keen, Richard
Lanning went to find Barbara Chilcot, Lady Chilcot's daughter, but not to
talk about the Minister of War or about any experiments. He was in love
with her, and had every reason to believe that she liked him.

She was, however, very cool to him that evening, and sarcastically
inquired why he was not in attendance upon Mademoiselle Duplaix as usual.
She only laughed at his denials, and when he suggested that she should
ask his friend, Perry Nixon, whether there was any ground for her
suspicions, said that when she danced with Mr. Nixon later in the evening
she hoped to find something more interesting to talk about than
Mademoiselle Duplaix.

Lanning comforted himself with the reflection that if Barbara were
indifferent to him she would have said nothing about Yvonne Duplaix, and
as he had another dance with her at the end of the program hoped to make
his peace then.

When this dance came, however, he could not find her, and afterwards
discovered that she had sat it out with the young Silesian. He was angry
and felt a little revengeful, but he did not mention Barbara to Perry
Nixon when they left the house together and walked to Piccadilly.

He left Nixon at the corner of Bond Street and went to his flat in
Jermyn Street.

He found his man, Winbush, lying on the dining-room floor, gagged and
half unconscious. The safe in his bedroom had been broken open, important
papers had been stolen from it, and a wooden case, which he had locked in
a cupboard there, had been taken away.

Fully alive to the gravity of the loss, and oblivious of the fact that
neglect would be attributed to him, he immediately telephoned to the
Minister of War.

Then he 'phoned to Nixon's rooms in Bond Street, and Nixon came round at
once. Up to that time Lanning had said nothing about the experiments to
his friend; now he told him the whole story.

Richard Lanning belonged to the Army Flying Corps, and was not only a
good airman, but was an authority upon flying machines. For some time
past there had been secret trials of various types of stabilizers, and
one invention, somewhat altered at Lanning's suggestion, had proved so
successful that safety in flight seemed assured in the near future.

Detailed plans had been prepared, a working model constructed, and only
that afternoon these had been secretly exhibited by Lanning in London to
a few members of the government and some War Office officials.

Only four men at the works knew anything about the secret, and even their
knowledge was not complete, so it seemed impossible that information
could leak out, yet the plans and the working model had been stolen.

Of course Lanning was blamed for having them at his flat; he ought to
have taken them back to the works. The fact that this would have meant
missing Lady Chilcot's dance was an added mark against him, and
suggested a neglect of duty.

Under the circumstances publicity was not desirable, and Christopher
Quarles was asked to solve the mystery. Instructions were telegraphed to
the various ports with a view to preventing the model and the plans being
taken out of the country, and, as I have said, the professor and I
entered upon a strenuous time.

All our preliminary information naturally came from Lanning, who appeared
quite indifferent to his own position so long as the stolen property was
recovered.

The man Winbush could throw little light upon the affair. He was in his
own room when he had heard a noise in the passage and supposed his master
had returned earlier than he expected. To make sure, he had gone to the
dining-room, but before he could switch on the light he had been seized
from behind, a pungent smell was in his nostrils, and he was only just
beginning to recover consciousness when his master found him.

He had not seen his assailants, he could not say how many there were, and
he was inclined to think one of them was a woman, he told Quarles,
because when he first entered the dining-room there was a faint perfume
which suggested a woman's presence.

"It was like a woman when she is dressed for a party," he said in
explanation.

He had seen his master bring in the wooden case that afternoon, but he
did not know what it contained.

As Zena said, it sounded a lame story, but Lanning believed it. Winbush
had been connected with the family all his life, was devoted to him, and
it was not likely he would know what the case contained. Lanning could
only suppose that some man at the works had turned traitor, while Mr.
Nixon gave it as his opinion that either France or Germany had pulled
the strings of the robbery.

Acting under Quarles's instructions, I had an interview with Miss
Chilcot. She corroborated Lanning's story in every detail so far as she
was concerned, and incidentally I understood there was no more than a
lover's quarrel between them. She had sat out with the young Silesian on
purpose to annoy Richard. Certainly they had talked of aeroplaning; it
was natural, since two days before she had seen some flying at Ranelagh,
but Lanning's name had not been mentioned. Miss Chilcot knew nothing
about the experiments which had taken place, nor was she aware that her
lover was responsible for some of the improvements which had been made in
stabilizers. Rather inconsequently she was annoyed that he had not
confided in her. Miss Chilcot carried with her a faint odor of Parma
violets. Quarles had told me to note particularly whether she used any
kind of perfume.

I was convinced of two things; first, that she was telling the truth
without concealing anything, and, secondly, that Mr. Lanning was likely
to marry a very charming but rather exacting young woman. When I said so
to Quarles he annoyed me by remarking that some women were capable of
making lies sound much more convincing than the truth.

I did not attempt to get an interview with Mademoiselle Duplaix, but I
made inquiries concerning her, and had a man watching her movements.

Apparently she was the daughter of a good French family, and was making a
prolonged stay with the Payne-Kennedys, who moved in very good society.
You may see their name constantly in the _Morning Post_. It was whispered
that they were not above accepting a handsome fee for introducing a
protégée into society, a form of log-rolling which is far more prevalent
than people imagine. Whether the girl's entrance into London society had
been paid for or not I am unable to say, but she had quickly established
herself as a success. It was generally agreed that she was both witty and
charming, the kind of girl men easily run after, but not the sort they
usually marry.

She had evidently managed to cause dissension in various directions, so
the suggestion that there was something of the adventuress about her
might be nothing more than a spiteful comment. It justified us in keeping
a watch upon her, but I had no definite opinion in the matter, not having
seen the lady, and, as Quarles said, a fascinating foreigner is easily
called an adventuress.

I also made careful inquiries concerning the young Silesian, and had him
pointed out to me. He had recently come from his own capital, and was
remaining in London only for a short time. He was a relative of the
ambassador, and was not here in any official capacity, it was stated.
This might be true so far as it went, but at the same time he might be
connected with the secret service.

The professor said very little about his investigations, and I concluded
he had met with no success. He had spent some hours with Lanning at the
works, I knew, but if he had tapped any other sources of information he
did not mention them.

He was still engaged in his cubist's drawings when the telephone
bell rang.

"I'll go," he said as Zena jumped up; "I am expecting a message."

He went into the hall, and when he returned told us that Lanning and
Nixon were on their way to Chelsea.

"I told them to 'phone me if anything happened," he said.

"And you expected to hear from them?" I asked.

"My name is Micawber when I am in a hole, and I wait for something to
turn up. Waiting is occasionally the best way of getting to the end of
the journey. We will hear what they have to say, Wigan, and then we shall
possibly have to get a move on."

Evidently he had a theory, but he would say nothing about it. He amused
himself by explaining that mechanical action, such as drawing meaningless
lines and curves, as he had been doing, had the effect of giving the
brain freedom to think, and declared that it was during times of this
sort of freedom that inspiration most usually came.

He was still engrossed with the subject when Lanning and Nixon arrived.

Quarles introduced them to Zena, saying that she always helped him in his
investigations.

"Oh, no, not as a clairvoyant," he said with a smile as both men looked
astonished. "She just uses common sense, a very valuable thing in
detective work, I can assure you."

"Are you any nearer a solution?" Lanning asked.

"I thought you had come to give me some information," Quarles returned.

"I have, but--"

"Sit down, then, and to business. I am still wanting facts, which are
more useful than all my theories."

"Mademoiselle Duplaix telephoned to me this morning," said Lanning. "A
man called on her to-day, a mysterious foreigner. He gave no name, but
she thinks he was a Silesian, although he spoke perfect French. He talked
to her in French, his English being of a fragmentary kind. He asked her
to give him the plans of the new aeroplane. You can imagine her surprise.
When she said she had got no plans he expressed great astonishment and
plunged into the whole story of how I had been robbed. Until that moment
Mademoiselle knew nothing of what had happened in my flat, but this
foreigner had evidently got hold of the whole story."

"Who had told him to call upon her?" Quarles asked.

"In the course of an excited narrative he mentioned two or three names
entirely unknown to her, but the man seemed to think that I should have
sent her the plans."

"Very curious," Quarles remarked.

"He then became apologetic," Lanning went on, "but all the same left the
impression that he did not believe her; in fact, she describes his
attitude as rather threatening. It wasn't until after he had gone that
she thought she ought to have him followed, and then it was too late. He
was out of the street. Probably he had a motor waiting for him. Then she
telephoned to me, but I was out, and have only just received her message.
What do you make of it?"

"It gives a new turn to the affair," said Quarles reflectively. "It
leaves an unpleasant doubt whether Mademoiselle Duplaix is as innocent as
she ought to be, doesn't it?"

"I don't think so."

"Would she have telephoned to Lanning if she were guilty?" said Nixon.

"My experience is that where women are concerned it is very difficult to
tell what line of action will be followed. Women are distinctly more
subtle than men."

Then after a pause the professor went on: "It is difficult to understand
how this foreigner could have made such a mistake. You have told us, Mr.
Lanning, that there is nothing between you and this lady, but Miss
Chilcot had her suspicions, remember, which suggests that, without
intending to do so, you have paid her attentions which other people have
misunderstood. Now, do you think you have given Mademoiselle Duplaix a
wrong impression, made her believe, in short, that you cared for her, and
so caused her to be jealous and perhaps inclined to be revengeful?"

"I am sure I have not."

"Think well, it is a very important point. For instance, has she ever
given you any keepsake, a glove, a handkerchief, something--some trifle
she was wearing at a dance when--when you flirted with her? Girls do that
kind of thing, so my niece there has told me."

Zena smiled and made no denial.

"Nothing of the kind has happened between Mademoiselle and myself,"
said Lanning.

"And yet there seems to be a distinct attempt on some one's part to
implicate you."

"That is true, and I am quite at a loss to understand it."

"I have wondered whether it is not a clever device to put us off the
trail," said Nixon. "Your investigations may have led you nearer the
truth than you imagined, Mr. Quarles, and this may be an attempt to set
you off on a wrong scent. It seems such an obvious clue, doesn't it? They
would guess that Lanning would communicate with you."

"That hardly explains why they went to Mademoiselle Duplaix, does it?"

"But the fact that she is French may," Nixon answered. "Perhaps I am
prejudiced, but I believe Silesia has pulled the strings of this affair,
and that would be a very good reason for trying to implicate France. It
has occurred to Lanning whether the plot might not be frustrated at the
other end of it, so to speak. Lanning thinks it would be a good idea if
we went to Silesia."

"What do you think of the idea?" Lanning asked. "I should have our
Embassy there behind me, and I should probably manage to get in touch
with the men who are active in Silesia's secret service. I mentioned it
to my chief this morning, and he thought there was a great deal in it,
but advised a consultation with you first."

"I think it is a good idea," said Quarles, "and it suggests another one.
I am still a little doubtful about Mademoiselle Duplaix, and I have a
strong impression that she could at least tell us more if she would, but
that she is afraid of hurting you."

"It is most unlikely."

"Well, let me put it to the test, Mr. Lanning. Just write--let me see,
how will it be best to word it? 'I am going to Silesia--' By the way,
when will you go?"

"I thought to-night."

"It is as well not to waste time," said Quarles. "Then write, 'I am going
to Silesia to-night. I want you to be perfectly open with the bearer of
this note and do whatever he advises. If you would be a true friend to
me, tell him everything.' Put your ordinary signature to it. With that in
my possession I will get to work at once, and if I discover anything of
importance, and it should be necessary to stop your journey, I will meet
your train to-night."

"It seems like an impertinence," Lanning said as he wrote the note.

"When there is so much at stake I shouldn't let that worry you,"
said Nixon.

No sooner had they gone than Quarles became alert.

"Now we move, Wigan. First of all, we have an appointment in Kensington,
at the Blue Lion, near the church, quite a respectable hostelry."

"Not to meet Mademoiselle Duplaix, surely?"

"No, she can wait. Respectable as it is, I do not suppose Mademoiselle
frequents the Blue Lion, but we may find there the man who called upon
her this morning."

We took a taxi to Kensington. Every moment seemed to be bursting with
importance for Quarles now.

The first person I caught sight of at the Blue Lion was Winbush,
evidently waiting for some one. He recognized us, and Quarles went to
him.

"You are waiting for Mr. Lanning."

The man hesitated.

"I know," Quarles went on, "because I have just left your master. He is
in trouble."

"In trouble!"

"Oh, we shall get him out of it all right. There is some mistake. _I_
have a message for you. Come inside."

We found a corner to ourselves, and the professor, having ordered drinks,
showed Winbush the note which Lanning had written to Mademoiselle
Duplaix. It was not addressed to her, and was so worded that it might be
meant for any one. Winbush read it and looked at Quarles.

"While your master is in Silesia I have certain work to do here, and to
do it I must have your complete story," said the professor. "You
appreciate the fact that Mr. Laiming looks upon you as a friend and
wishes you to tell me all you know."

"I do, sir, only I don't see how my story is going to help him."

"It is going to help us to put our hand on the man who is really guilty."

"It has all been very mysterious," said Winbush, "and I have not been
able to understand my master at all. What I have said about hearing a
noise in the passage and being seized before I could switch on the light
in the dining-room is all true, but the stuff which was put into my face
and made me unconscious wasn't there before I had time to call out."

"You called out, then?"

"No, I didn't, because the man spoke to me."

"Oh, it was a man--not a woman?"

"It was Mr. Lanning himself," said Winbush.

This was so unexpected that I nearly exclaimed at it, but Quarles just
watched the speaker as if he would make certain that he was telling
nothing but the truth.

"He spoke quickly and excitedly," Winbush went on. "Said it was necessary
that the flat should appear to have been robbed. I should presently be
discovered bound. I was to say that I had been attacked in the dark and
that I did not know by whom nor by how many. I was not to speak about the
matter to him again under any circumstances, and even if he questioned me
alone or before others I was to stick to my story of utter ignorance. I
had just said that I understood and heard him say that he would probably
question me to prove my faithfulness, when he put the stuff over my mouth
and nose, and I knew no more until he found me there later on."

"Has he questioned you since?"

"Not since he first found me lying on the floor. He did then, and I
obeyed his instructions just as I did when you talked to me afterwards."

"Did he suggest you should say a woman was present?"

"No, sir."

"That was a little extra trimming of your own, eh?"

"No, it was a bit of truth that crept in. I thought a woman was there."

"By the perfume?"

"Yes, sir."

Quarles brought from the depth of a pocket a tissue-paper parcel, from
which he took a handkerchief.

"Was that the perfume?"

Winbush smelt it.

"It may have been. It was the perfume that hangs about a woman in
evening dress."

"That's Parma violets, Wigan," said the professor, waving the
handkerchief towards me. It was one of his own, so had evidently been
specially prepared for this test. "I wonder what percentage of women use
the scent? It is not much of a clue for us, I am afraid."

He put the handkerchief away, and then from another pocket produced a
second handkerchief, also wrapped in tissue paper.

This time it was a fragile affair of lawn and lace.

"Smell that, Mr. Winbush."

"That's it!" the man exclaimed; no hesitation this time.

"You can swear to it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Rather a pleasant scent but peculiar, Wigan. I do not know what it is."

Nor did I, but the handkerchief interested me. Worked in the corner were
the letters "Y.D."

"I can get to work now, Mr. Winbush," said Quarles. "Your master tells
you to do whatever I advise. Of course, I understand that in keeping
these facts to yourself you were acting in your master's interests, but
were it generally known that you had suppressed the truth you might get
into trouble. Have you any relatives in town?"

"I have a married nephew out Hampstead way."

"Most fortunate. You go straight off and see him, get him to put you up
for the night, but whatever you do keep away from Jermyn Street until
to-morrow morning. You will spoil my efforts on your master's behalf if
you turn up at the flat before then."

Winbush promised to obey these instructions, and Quarles and I left the
Blue Lion.

"After hearing that Lanning was coming to see me this afternoon, I
telephoned a telegram to Winbush," explained the professor when we were
outside. "He thought it came from his master telling him to meet him at
the Blue Lion. Lanning will have to do his own packing for once.
Winbush's story is rather a surprising one, eh, Wigan?"

"And most unexpected," I said.

"Well, no, not quite unexpected," he answered in that superior manner
which is so exasperating at times. "I got that note from Lanning for the
purpose of getting the man to tell me the truth."

"At any rate, you were mistaken in supposing that Mademoiselle's
mysterious foreigner would be at the Blue Lion," I returned.

"Not at all. He was there."

"Winbush!" I exclaimed.

"No, Christopher Quarles. I called on Mademoiselle Duplaix this morning.
I thought she would communicate directly or indirectly with Lanning;
that is why I was expecting a message from him. I was also fortunate
enough to appropriate her handkerchief. To-night I become the
distinguished foreigner again; you had better be an elderly gentleman
with a stoop. We are traveling to Harwich. Don't forget a revolver; it
may be useful. We must get to Liverpool Street early; we shall want
plenty of time at the station."

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