game once too often. They sent particulars. The
identification disk is his. Oh! there's no doubt about it,
unfortunately. The dead man's face is unrecognizable, but it's not
likely there are two disks of that sort bearing the initials G.M. and
the number 49685. I'm going along now. Should you care to come,
doctor?"
"I am expecting a patient, Inspector," replied Stuart--"er--a special
case. But I hope you will keep me in touch with this affair?"
"Well, I shouldn't have suggested your coming to the Yard if I hadn't
wanted to do that. As a matter of fact, this scorpion job seems to
resolve itself into a case of elaborate assassination by means of
some unknown poison; and although I should have come to see you in
any event, because you have helped me more than once, I came to-night
at the suggestion of the Commissioner. He instructed me to retain
your services if they were available."
"I am honoured," replied Stuart. "But after all, Inspector, I am
merely an ordinary suburban practitioner. My reputation has yet to
be made. What's the matter with Halesowen of Upper Wimpole Street?
He's the big man."
"And if Sir Frank Narcombe was really poisoned--as Paris seems to
think he was--he's also a big fool." retorted Dunbar bluntly. "He
agreed that death was due to heart trouble."
"I know he did; unsuspected ulcerative endocarditis. Perhaps he was
right."
"If he was right," said Dunbar, taking up the piece of gold from the
table, "what was Gaston Max doing with this thing in his possession?"
"There may be no earthly connection between Max's inquiries and the
death of Sir Frank."
"On the other hand--there may! Leaving Dr. Halesowen out of the
question, are you open to act as expert adviser in this case?"
"Certainly; delighted."
"Your fee is your own affair, doctor. I will communicate with you
later, if you wish, or call again in the morning."
Dunbar wrapped up the scorpion's tail in the piece of tissue paper
and was about to replace it in his note-case. Then:
"I'll leave this with you, doctor," he said. "I know it will be safe
enough, and you might like to examine it at greater leisure."
"Very well," replied Stuart. "Some of the engraving is very minute.
I will have a look at it through a glass later."
He took the fragment from Dunbar, who had again unwrapped it, and,
opening a drawer of the writing-table in which he kept his cheque-book
and some few other personal valuables, he placed the curious piece of
gold-work within and relocked the drawer.
"I will walk as far as the cab-rank with you," he said, finding
himself to be possessed of a spirit of unrest. Whereupon the two went
out of the room, Stuart extinguishing the lamps as he came to the
door.
They had not left the study for more than two minutes ere a car drew
up outside the house, and Mrs. M'Gregor ushered a lady into the room
but lately quitted by Stuart and Dunbar, turning up the lights as she
entered.
"The doctor has gone out but just now, Miss Dorian," she said stiffly.
"I am sorry that ye are so unfortunate in your veesits. But I know
he'll be no more than a few minutes."
The girl addressed was of a type fully to account for the misgivings
of the shrewd old Scotswoman. She had the slim beauty of the East
allied to the elegance of the West. Her features, whilst cast in a
charming European mould, at the same time suggested in some subtle
way the Oriental. She had the long, almond-shaped eyes of the Egyptian,
and her hair, which she wore unconventionally in a picturesque
fashion reminiscent of the _harem_, was inclined to be "fuzzy," but
gleamed with coppery tints where the light touched its waves.
She wore a cloak of purple velvet having a hooded collar of white fox
fur; it fastened with golden cords. Beneath it was a white and gold
robe, cut with classic simplicity of line and confined at the waist
by an ornate Eastern girdle. White stockings and dull gold shoes
exhibited to advantage her charming little feet and slim ankles, and
she carried a handbag of Indian beadwork. Mlle. Dorian was a figure
calculated to fire the imagination of any man and to linger long and
sweetly in the memory.
Mrs. M'Gregor, palpably ill at ease, conducted her to an armchair.
"You are very good," said the visitor, speaking with a certain
hesitancy and with a slight accent most musical and fascinating.
"I wait a while if I may."
"Dear, dear," muttered Mrs. M'Gregor, beginning to poke the fire, "he
has let the fire down, of course! Is it out? No ... I see a wee
sparkie!"
She set the poker upright before the nearly extinguished fire and
turned triumphantly to Mlle. Dorian, who was watching her with a
slight smile.
"That will be a comforting blaze in a few minutes, Miss Dorian," she
said, and went towards the door.
"If you please," called the girl, detaining her--"do you permit me to
speak on the telephone a moment? As Dr. Stuart is not at home, I must
explain that I wait for him."
"Certainly, Miss Dorian," replied Mrs. M'Gregor; "use the telephone
by all means. But I think the doctor will be back any moment now."
"Thank you so much."
Mrs. M'Gregor went out, not without a final backward glance at the
elegant figure in the armchair. Mlle. Dorian was seated, her chin
resting in her hand and her elbow upon the arm of the chair, gazing
into the smoke arising from the nearly extinguished ember of the fire.
The door closed, and Mrs. M'Gregor's footsteps could be heard receding
along the corridor.
Mlle.