that's only pretty Fanny's way. He means that he is sick of the reek of Chinamen. You know his peculiar views with regard to tobacco. If he has been prowling around among opium dens in the East End all the evening, I'm sorry for him. But he'll turn up all right in the morning, looking like a skinned weasel. By the way, it'll interest you to hear that we have cleared up one minor issue. You remember that Ann Rogers, Mrs. Lester's maid, was called away by a telegram saying that her father was ill?"
"Yes."
"The old fellow, who is a bit of a sponge, admits that he was given two pounds by 'a foreign gentleman' for sending that telegram and shamming illness during the night. I wish I could put the hoary old rascal in jail, but his action probably saved Ann Rogers from sharing her mistress's fate."
"Mr. Winter, has it struck you that the man who devised this scheme, beginning with the murder of Mrs. Lester and ending, Heaven alone knows when or where, is an organizing genius of a very high orders."
"You would be surprised if you knew the real extent and scope of this affair," said Winter. "Some day soon I'll be more outspoken. Goodnight. If you go out in the morning leave word with Bates where you can be found if wanted."
Theydon turned from the telephone and found Bates standing beside him. That stolid and worthy ex-noncommissioned officer was armed with a red-hot poker. Henceforth his employer saw pretense was useless.
"Beg pardon, sir," said the valet apologetically. "I couldn't help overhearin' what you were sayin', an' if there's any blinkin' Chinee hidden in this place I'll put a mark on him he won't forget in a hurry."
Theydon could not help laughing, but Bates was in earnest.
"Once I was stationed in Cork, sir," he said solemnly, "an' we had to stop a riot. It was then I learnt the reel vally of a red-hot poker. It's as good as a baynit any time. I've kep' this one handy since Mr. Furneaux ran out. I do believe he saw a Chinaman."
"He did, and, what is more, arrested him. Well, come on, Bates. There are not many hiding places in one of these flats. I only hope we find a Celestial. It would be the fitting finale to a busy day."
But their search was in vain, though they succeeded in scaring Mrs. Bates badly. It was almost inconceivable that two such men, one a powerfully-built athlete and the other an ex-soldier, should even imagine that any marauder could be secreted in the flat; but the European insensibly credits the Oriental with occult powers, and they took their task quite soberly.
Singularly enough it led to a discovery bearing directly on the problem of Mrs. Lester's death. Lending out of the kitchen was a narrow scullery; here a lift, worked by a wheel on the ground level, delivered coals by the sack and other heavy parcels.
Theydon glanced at the sliding panel which gave access to the lift. Obviously he seldom, if ever, visited this part of his domain.
"Can that thing be operated only from the ground?" he inquired.
"O, no, sir," said Bates. "I often pull it up when I want to lower the dust bin."
"Can you do it now?"
Bates looked surprised at first, then thoughtful. Theydon's words had suggested a new idea. He opened the panel, tugged vigorously at a rope, and soon the lift itself, a sort of large cupboard, open at the side, came in view.
"By gum!" he muttered, gazing at its spacious depths, "I never thought of that."
"You see what I'm driving at, then?"
"Why, of course, sir. A moderate-sized man could stow away inside there and hoist himself to any floor. It 'ud be perfectly easy an' safe as nails. A hundredweight of coal is nothing to it."
"I think we see now at least one method whereby the man who killed Mrs. Lester could have entered the flat without her knowledge?"
"Not a doubt about it, sir. Nearly noiseless, too, an' if you heard it working you'd imagine it was meant for the flat beneath, because there's a whistle to warn us when it's comin' here."
They surveyed the lift in silence for a little while. Then Bates caused it to descend again, and Theydon examined the rather flimsy device which fastened the panel.
"I'm not what you might describe as a nervous individual," he said, at last, "but it wouldn't be fair to your wife and yourself, Bates, if I didn't tell you I have just received an ugly reminder that the gang which killed Mrs. Lester has a grudge against me now. Wouldn't it be a reasonable thing if we drove a couple of screws into that door tonight?"
Bates stroked his chin. The long-dormant spirit of combat kindled in his eye.
"Better still, sir," he grinned, "let's drive a screw into any one who comes up in the lift."
"But how?"
"By tying your pistol firmly to the dresser, putting it on a hair-trigger—I know how to do that, of course—an' letting it plug a bullet into the right place when the panel is half open."
"Are we justified in taking the law into our own hands?"
"Is any one justified in tryin' to get in here an' cut our throats while we're asleep, sir?"
Theydon weighed the pros and cons of this thesis very carefully. He dreaded the possibility of taking a human life, even in self-defense. Yet against the wretches who had strangled Edith Lester, and coolly prepared to leave Mrs. Forbes to starve in an empty house until their revengeful scheme was perfected by full knowledge of the identity of every man in China, who had assisted in the downfall of an effete monarchy, what code of conduct would apply unless it were that which holds sway in the jungle?
"Couldn't we contrive matters so that if the pistol were fired it need not necessarily inflict a fatal wound?" he said.
"Let's see what we can do, sir," and Bates set to work gleefully on the arrangements. There was not the slightest difficulty in devising an efficient means of pressing a trigger with a reduced pull by opening the door. Any schoolboy could adjust a piece of string to act unfailingly. By measuring distances, and careful sighting of the pistol when fixed in position, they arrived at a line of fire which would strike a body crouched in the lift about the region of the right shoulder.
Then Bates locked the scullery door, put the key in his pocket, and assured his trembling wife that she might sleep like a top, since no bloomin' Chinaman could get at her that night. Theydon himself retired soon afterwards. He was as tired as though he had been trudging steadily along country roads since daybreak.
When he awoke, it was broad daylight. Around the corners of the drawn blinds in his bedroom he could see strips of golden sunshine. Glancing at a clock on the mantlepiece he was amazed to find that the hour was ten o'clock, so, not only had there not been a raid on the premises, but Bates had taken the overnight instructions literally, and allowed him to sleep far beyond the usual hour.
He rose hurriedly, raced to the bathroom and shouted for "breakfast in fifteen minutes." He was splashing in his tub when the telephone bell rang, and Bates answered. Within a few seconds the valet was knocking at the door.
"A Mr. Handyside has rung up, sir," was the announcement. "I think he's an American. He wants to know if there is anything doin'. He said you would understand."
"Tell him I'm alive, and will call at his hotel at 11:30."
"Yes, sir."
When Bates brought in the breakfast Theydon was glancing hurriedly through the morning papers. Some of them contained an allusion to the Eastbourne incident, but no names were mentioned.
A reference to "developments" in connection with the "Innesmore Mansions Murder," however, caught his eye. Appended to a brief account of the inquest were the following paragraphs:
"It may be taken as certain that the police are not altogether at sea as to the motive of this atrocious crime. Strange as it may seem—the victim being a young and attractive lady, living unostentatiously and taking little, if any, part in the social life of London—there is some probability that Mrs. Lester's death was the outcome of political revenge rather than an incident in an interrupted burglary.