A neat maid admitted him, and in answer to his inquiries said her mistress was at home.
What name shall I say, please? she asked in a hesitating voice. He produced his case and handed the girl a card.
Of course, you know I am a stranger, he explained. Will you kindly take this to Mrs Saxton, and tell her that I will take up as little of her time as possible.
After the delay of a few moments, he was shown into a pretty drawing-room, tastefully furnished. The lady was sitting at a tea-table, and alone.
Please sit down, she said; her tones were quite affable. She did not in the least appear to resent this sudden intrusion into her domestic life. Lily, bring another cup. You will let me offer you some tea?
She was certainly a most agreeable person on the right side of thirty, he judged. Smeaton was somewhat susceptible to female influence, although, to do him justice, he never allowed this weakness to interfere with business.
He explained that tea was a meal of which he never partook. Mrs Saxton, it appeared, was a most hospitable person, and promptly suggested a whisky-and-soda. He must take something, she protested, or she would feel embarrassed.
The detective accepted, and felt that things had begun very smoothly. The velvet glove was very obvious, even if, later, he should catch a glimpse of the iron hand encased within.
I must apologise for intruding upon you, Mrs Saxton, in this fashion. But I am in want of a little information, and I believe you can furnish me with it, if you are disposed to.
Mrs Saxton smiled at him very sweetly, and regarded him with eyes of mild surprise. Very fine eyes they were, he thought. It was a pity that she had taken the trouble to enhance their brilliancy by the aid of art. She was quite good-looking enough to rely upon her attractions, without surreptitious assistance.
How very interesting, she said in a prettily modulated, but rather affected voice. I am all curiosity.
She was purring perhaps a little bit too much for absolute sincerity, but it was pleasant to be met with such apparent cordiality.
Smeaton came to the point at once. I am at the present moment considerably interested in the gentleman with whom you left the Savoy yesterday afternoon in a taxi-cab.
There was just a moments pause before she replied. But there were no signs of confusion about her. Her eyes never left his face, and there was no change in her voice when she spoke. She was either perfectly straightforward, or as cool a hand as he had ever met.
You are interested in Mr Stent? How strange! Gentlemen of your profession do not generally interest themselves in other persons without some strong motive, I presume?
The motive is a pretty strong one. At present, other interests require that I do not divulge it, replied Smeaton gravely. He was pleased with one thing, he had already got the name of the man; he preferred not to confess that he did not know it. And her frank allusion to him as Mr Stent seemed to show that she had nothing to hide. Unless, of course, it was a slip.
I know I am asking something that you may consider an impertinence, he went on. But, if you are at liberty to do so, I should like you to tell me all you know of this gentleman; in short, who and what he is.
She laughed quite naturally. But I really fear I can tell you very little. I suppose going away together in a taxi appears to argue a certain amount of intimacy. But in this case it is not so. I know next to nothing of Mr Stent. He is not even a friend, only a man whose acquaintance I made in the most casual manner. And, apart from two occasions about which I will tell you presently, I dont suppose I have been in his company a dozen times.
It was a disappointment, certainly, and this time Smeaton did not believe she was speaking the truth. In spite of the silvery laugh and the apparently frank manner. But he must put up with what she chose to give him.
Do you mind telling me how you first made his acquaintance, Mrs Saxton?
Not in the least, she replied graciously. Two years ago I was staying in the Hotel Royal at Dinard. Mr Stent was there too. He seemed a very reserved, silent sort of man, and kept himself very much aloof from the others, myself included, although, as I daresay you have guessed, I am of a gregarious and unconventional disposition.
She gave him a flashing smile, and Smeaton bowed gallantly. I should say you were immensely popular, he observed judiciously.
Thanks for the compliment; without vanity, I think I may say most people take to me. Well, one day Mr Stent and I found ourselves alone in the drawing-room, and the ice was broken. After that we talked together a good deal, and occasionally went to the Casino, and took walks together. He left before I did, and I did not meet him again till next year at Monte Carlo.
Did you learn anything about his private affairs, his profession or occupation?
Not a word. The conversation was always general. He was the last man in the world to talk about himself. He was at Monte Carlo about a week. I did not see very much of him then, as I was staying with a party in Mentone; he was by himself, as before.
Did he give you the impression of a man of means?
On the whole, I should say, yes. One night he lost a big sum in the Rooms, but appeared quite unconcerned. Since then I have met him about a dozen times, or perhaps less, at different places, mostly restaurants. Yesterday he came through the palm-court, as I was sitting there after lunch, and we exchanged a few words.
Did you not see him at lunch; you were both there? questioned Smeaton quickly.
I saw him at a table some distance from mine, but he did not see me. I mentioned that I was going back to Hyde Park Mansions. He said he was driving in the direction of St. Johns Wood, and would drop me on his way. He left me at the entrance to the flats.
Smeaton rose. He knew that if he stopped there for another hour he would get nothing more out of her.
Thanks very much, Mrs Saxton, for what you have told me. One last question, and I have done. Do you know where he lives?
There was just a moments hesitation. Did she once know, and had she forgotten? Or was she debating whether she would feign ignorance? He fancied the latter was the correct reason.
I dont remember, if I ever knew, the exact address, but it is somewhere in the direction of St. Albans.
Smeaton bowed himself out, and meditated deeply. Shes an artful customer, for all her innocent air, and knows more than she will tell, till shes forced, was his inward comment. Now for two things one, to find out what there is to be found at St. Albans; two, to get on the track of the bearded man.
Chapter Six.
Just Too Late
Mr Smeaton was not a man to waste time. Within ten minutes of his arrival at Scotland Yard he had sent two sergeants of the C.I. Department to keep Mrs Saxton under close surveillance, and to note the coming and going of all visitors. As her flat was on the ground floor, observation would be rendered comparatively easy.
The evenings report was barren of incident. Mrs Saxton had remained at home. The only visitor had been a young man, answering to the description of James Farloe, her brother. He had called about dinner-time, and left a couple of hours later.
For the moment Smeaton did not take Farloe very seriously into his calculations. Mrs Saxton would tell her brother all about his visit, and to interrogate him would be a waste of time. He would tell him nothing more about Stent than he had already learned.
He had noticed, with his trained powers of observation which took in every detail at a glance, that there was a telephone in a corner of the small hall.
He had noticed, with his trained powers of observation which took in every detail at a glance, that there was a telephone in a corner of the small hall.
If her connection with the mysterious Stent were less innocent than she had led him to believe, she would have plenty of time to communicate with this gentleman by means of that useful little instrument.
Later, he instructed a third skilled subordinate to proceed the next morning in a car to St. Albans, and institute discreet inquiries on the way. Afterwards, he thought of the two amateur detectives in Chesterfield Street, and smiled. Sheila was a charming girl, pathetically beautiful in her distress, and Wingate was a pleasant young fellow. So he would give them some encouragement.
He wrote a charming little note, explaining what he had done with regard to Mrs Saxton. He suggested they should establish their headquarters at a small restaurant close by, lunch and dine there as often as they could. If occasion arose, they could co-operate with his own men, who would recognise them from his description. He concluded his letter with a brief résumé of his conversation with Mrs Saxton.
Poor souls, he thought, nothing was likely to come out of their zeal. But it would please them to think they were at least doing something towards the unravelling of the mystery.
In this supposition he was destined to be agreeably disappointed in the next few hours.
Wingate, after reading the letter, escorted Sheila on a small shopping expedition in the West End. They were going to lunch afterwards at the restaurant in close proximity to Hyde Park Mansions.
The shopping finished, Wingate suddenly recollected he must send a wire to the works at Hendon, and they proceeded to the nearest post-office in Edgware Road.
It was now a quarter to one, and they had settled to lunch at one oclock, so they walked along quickly. When within a few yards of the post-office, Sheila laid her hand upon his arm.
Stop a second! she said in an excited voice. You see that woman getting out of a taxi. It is Mrs Saxton. Let her get in before we go on.
He obeyed. The elegant, fashionably-attired young woman paid the driver, and disappeared within the door. The pair of amateur detectives followed on her heels.
Sheilas quick eyes picked her out at once, although the office was full of people. Mrs Saxton was already in one of the little pens, writing a telegram.
Unobserved by the woman so busily engaged, Sheila stepped softly behind her, and waited till she had finished. She had splendid eyesight, and she read the words distinctly. They ran as follows:
Herbert. Poste Restante, Brighton. Exercise discretion. Maude.
Then she glided away, and, with Wingate, hid herself behind a group of people. She had only met the woman once, but it was just possible she might remember her if their glances met.
Mrs Saxton took the telegram to the counter, and they heard her ask how long it would take to get to Brighton. Then, having received an answer to the query, which they could not catch, she went out.
They looked at each other eagerly. They had made a discovery, but what were they to do with it?
Ring up Smeaton at once, and tell him, suggested Sheila. He will know what to do.
After a moments reflection, Wingate agreed that this was the proper course. While they were discussing the point, the man himself hurried in. His quick eye detected them at once, and he joined them.
Ive just missed Mrs Saxton eh? he queried.
Sheila explained to him how they had arrived there by accident, and had seen her stepping out of the taxi. Smeaton went on to explain.
I looked round this morning to see how my men were getting on, and found a taxi waiting before the door. I had to hide when she came out, but one of my men heard her give the address of this office. I picked up another taxi, and drove as hard as I could. My fellow kept the other well in sight, but just as we were gaining on her, I was blocked, and lost three minutes. She came here, of course, to send a wire. But it is only a little delay. I can get hold of that wire very shortly.
But there is no need, cried Sheila triumphantly. At any rate, for the present. I looked over her shoulder, and read every word of it. I will tell it you.
She repeated the words. He had showed obvious signs of vexation at having just missed the woman he was hunting, and now his brow cleared.
Very clever of you. Miss Monkton very clever, he said in appreciative tones. Now, who is Herbert, thats the question?
Stent, no doubt, suggested Wingate, with a certain amount of rashness.
The detective regarded him with his kindly but somewhat quizzical smile. I very much doubt if it is Stent, Mr Wingate. I sent a man down early this morning to St. Albans, where I believe he lives. I should say Herbert is another man altogether. The young people readily accepted the professionals theory. They recognised that they were only amateurs.
There was a long pause. They stood humbly waiting for the great man to speak, this man of lightning intuition and strategic resource.
It seemed an interminable time to the expectant listeners before he again opened his lips. Before he did speak, he pulled out his watch and noted the time.
This may be important, and we cannot afford to lose a moment, he said at length. How do you stand, Mr Wingate, as regards time? Can you spare me the whole of the day?
The whole of to-day, to-morrow, and the next day, if it will help, cried the young man fervently.
There is a fairly fast train from Victoria in forty minutes from now. You have plenty of time to catch it. I want you to go to the post-office in Brighton, and get hold of that telegram.
But it is addressed to the name of Herbert.
No matter, said Smeaton, a little impatiently. If the real Herbert has not been before you and I should guess it is an unexpected message they will hand it to you; they are too busy to be particular. If he has already been, trump up a tale that he is a friend of yours, and not being sure that he would be able to call himself, had asked you to look in for it, so as to make sure.
I see, said Wingate. He felt an increased admiration for the professional detective. He was not quite sure that he would have been ready with this glib explanation.
I should love to go too, said Sheila, looking wistfully at the ever-resourceful Smeaton, whom she now frankly accepted as the disposer of their destinies.
Forgive me if I oppose you this once, my dear Miss Monkton, he said in his kindest and most diplomatic manner. Two are not always company in detective business, unless theyve been trained to work together. Besides, I shall want Mr Wingate to keep in close touch with me on the phone, and he will have no time to look after a lady.
Having settled that matter, he turned to Wingate. First of all, here are a couple of my cards; one to show the post-office if there is anything awkward this for the chief constable of Brighton if you have need of his assistance. I will scribble an introduction on it. He suited the action to the word. Now, the sooner you are off the better. I will put Miss Monkton into a taxi. You be off, and try to get hold of that wire.
There was no resisting his powerful personality. He controlled the situation like an autocrat.
Stay, just one thing more. I shall be at Scotland Yard till seven, and at home about eight. Here is my private phone number, if unseen developments arise.
He thought of everything, he foresaw the improbable. They were lost in admiration. At the moment of departing, he rather damped their enthusiasm by muttering, almost to himself: