approaching her; perhaps he had had the idea that she might lead him to the yawl. He had refused to say anything about these things, and neither torture nor threats had budged him.
“Kusitch was that type of man,” Mr. Nimcik commented. “It was the Slav in him. Us Slavs are like mules sometimes, except that we have less feeling than mules. He would think: ‘This Kretchmann believes I have the information, so he will never kill me.’ But I have seen something of Kretchmann today. He is a man of violence, of sudden storms. He has the madness of the killer, and it is easy for him to press a trigger when he is in the anger of frustration… So the body of Kusitch is found in the Bois du Cambre, and by this time I am already in Brussels.”
The benign smile of Mr. Nimcik travelled over the company and was directed at Andrew Maclaren. “And now the interest is focused on Dr. Maclaren, the companion and accomplice of Kusitch. Kretchmann is sure that Dr. Maclaren knows everything. I am inclined to be suspicious myself. The scene shifts to London. I watch Dr. Maclaren in the hope of picking up Kretchmann. Kretchmann gives him attention in the hope of discovering the yawl, and we know now that he is ultimately led to Miss Meriden. That was yesterday, but I was quite unaware of the young lady’s visit to Groper’s Wade. When I checked up on Dr. Maclaren, I knew that he could not have been in the confidence of Kusitch, so I dropped my interest in him. I had, you see, another line of inquiry, and it was productive. It was productive just in time.”
Mr. Nimcik had caused an agent to investigate the Calabrian clue in the correspondence of Kusitch. This agent had found the fisherman of Bova Marina and had learned about the man Ernest Jansen who had claimed the yawl on behalf of Meriden. Jansen had spoken of his plan to migrate to Algiers. The resourceful Mr. Nimcik had inquiries made in Algiers, only to learn that Jansen and his wife had returned to England, disgusted with the climate of North Africa.
“It is, perhaps, no place for the Norseman,” Mr. Nimcik observed. “The hot wind is hard on pink skin, but it blew me some luck, for Jansen was in London and this morning I located him, with the help of a private detective.”
Inspector Jordaens uttered a grunt of disapprobation, but no one took any notice; not even Detective Sergeant Stock.
“With a little prompting”-Mr. Nimcik rubbed his thumb and forefinger together roguishly-”Jansen became informative. He told me about the windmill and the landing stage and the boat, and it seemed to me then that I was at the end of my mission. All I had to do was go down to Groper’s Wade and make sure of the gold.”
Charley Botten complained. “If you had confided in me last night, we might have co-operated. You told me a cock-and-bull story about a Cellini sauceboat.”
“A diplomatic story, my dear friend,” Mr. Nimcik protested. “If you had not been so uninformative when I asked you about Dr. Maclaren, I might have talked of a fishing craft instead of a sauceboat. It was because Dr. Maclaren was in touch with you that I sought you out.”
“To pump me?” Charley laughed. “Was that your idea?”
“I was uncertain of my ground.”
“You are a cunning old man.”
“A foolish old man.” Nimcik smiled his broadest smile. “I trust too much to my empty pistol. Not that a loaded one would serve me any better. If I stood on the doorstep I could not hit a house.”
Inspector Jordaens was put out. “It is no matter for a joke,” he protested. “You knew that Kretchmann and Haller were very dangerous men.”
“I thought I was ahead of them, my dear Inspector,” Nimcik answered. “After my talk with Jansen, I went down to Groper’s Wade. As soon as I saw the boat, I knew that the others were ahead of me. I behaved with caution. I reconnoitred everything in the best possible style. I would have waited with patience to inform the excellent Scotland Yard, but I saw that Kretchmann and Haller were about to leave with the gold. I had no alternative but to interfere, to do my best. Fortunately it all ended well. You arrived in time to help the old man out of his difficulty, and now the work is done. My legation has been informed. It will be proved to the satisfaction of the British Government that the gold belongs to Yugoslavia. I believe the idea will be to use it for trade with this country, but the whole problem is one for the higher levels. For me, I would like now to sleep if you will not think me impolite.”
Andrew took Ruth Meriden back to London in the hired car. It was very late when they reached her place in Chelsea once more.
He said: “I suppose you’ll be going back to work tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow,” she answered. “I think I’ll take a holiday.”
“What about your work?”
“Work?” she said vaguely.
“What about Mr. Hinckleigh?” he went on. “What about Mr. Alec Foster?”
“I think they can wait,” she answered thoughtfully. “When do you join that hospital?”
“I’ve three weeks yet,” he told her. “We could, of course, get a special licence.”
“And someone to repair the boat. We could fit her out and call her Moonlight and go cruising. Perhaps we’d find some more gold in her.”
“What would we want with gold?” asked Andrew.
