instead a long cable from Gaudian in Norway. I had just opened it, when I found Medina at my elbow. He had seen me enter, and followed me, in order that we should walk home together.
Now I had arranged a simple code with Gaudian for his cables, and by the mercy of Heaven that honest fellow had taken special precautions, and got some friend to send this message from Christiania. Had it borne the Merdal stamp it would have been all up with me.
The only course was the bold one, though I pursued it with a quaking heart.
'Hullo,' I cried, 'here's a cable from a pal of mine in Norway. Did I tell you I had been trying to get a beat on the Leardal for July? I had almost forgotten about the thing. I started inquiring in March, and here's my first news.'
I handed him the two sheets and he glanced at the place of dispatch.
'Code,' he said. 'Do you want to work it out now?'
'If you don't mind waiting a few seconds. It's a simple code of my own invention, and I ought to be able to decipher it pretty fast.'
We sat down at one of the tables in the hall, and I took up a pen and a sheet of notepaper. As I think I have mentioned before, I am rather a swell at codes, and this one in particular I could read without much difficulty. I jotted down some letters and numbers, and then wrote out a version which I handed to Medina. This was what he read:
'Upper beat Leardal available from first of month. Rent two hundred and fifty with option of August at one hundred more. No limit to rods. Boat on each pool. Tidal waters can also be got for sea trout by arrangement. If you accept please cable word 'Yes.' You should arrive not later than June 29th. Bring plenty of bottled prawns. Motor boat can be had from Bergen. Andersen, Grand Hotel, Christiania.'
But all the time I was scribbling this nonsense, I was reading the code correctly and getting the message by heart. Here is what Gaudian really sent:
'Our friend has quarrelled with keeper and beaten him soundly. I have taken charge at farm and frightened latter into docility. He will remain prisoner in charge of ally of mine till I give the word to release. Meantime, think it safer to bring friend to England and start on Monday. Will wire address in Scotland and wait your instructions. No danger of keeper sending message. Do not be anxious, all is well.'
Having got that clear in my head, I tore the cable into small pieces and flung them into the waste-paper basket.
'Well, are you going?' Medina asked.
'Not I. I'm off salmon-fishing for the present.' I took a cable form from the table and wrote: 'Sorry, must cancel Leardal plan,' signed it 'Hannay,' addressed it to 'Andersen, Grand Hotel, Christiania,' and gave it to the porter to send off. I wonder what happened to that telegram. It is probably still stuck up on the hotel-board, awaiting the arrival of the mythical Andersen.
On our way back to Hill Street Medina put his arm in mine, and was very friendly. 'I hope to get a holiday,' he said, 'perhaps just after the beginning of June. Only a day or two off now. I may go abroad for a little. I would like you to come with me.'
That puzzled me a lot. Medina could not possibly leave town before the great liquidation, and there could be no motive in his trying to mislead me on such a point, seeing that I was living in his house. I wondered if something had happened to make him change the date. It was of the first importance that I should find this out, and I did my best to draw him about his plans. But I could get nothing out of him except that he hoped for an early holiday, and 'early' might apply to the middle of June as well as to the beginning, for it was now the 27th of May.
Next afternoon at tea-time to my surprise Odell appeared in the smoking-room, followed by the long lean figure of Tom Greenslade. I never saw anybody with greater pleasure, but I didn't dare to talk to him alone. 'Is your master upstairs?' I asked the butler. 'Will you tell him that Dr. Greenslade is here? He is an old friend of his.'
We had rather less than two minutes before Medina appeared. 'I come from your wife,' Greenslade whispered. 'She has told me all about the business, and she thought this was the safest plan. I was to tell you that she has news of Miss Victor and the Marquis. They are safe enough. Any word of the little boy?'
He raised his voice as Medina entered. 'My dear fellow, this is a great pleasure. I had to be in London for a consultation, and I thought I would look up Hannay. I hardly hoped to have the luck to catch a busy man like you.'
Medina was very gracious—no, that is not the word, for there was nothing patronising in his manner. He asked in the most friendly way about Greenslade's practice, and how he liked English country life after his many wanderings. He spoke with an air of regret of the great valleys of loess and the windy Central Asian tablelands where they had first foregathered. Odell brought in tea, and we made as pleasant a trio of friends as you could find in London. I asked a few casual questions about Fosse, and then I mentioned Peter John. Here Greenslade had an inspiration; he told me afterwards that he thought it might be a good thing to open a channel for further communications.
'I think he's all right,' he said slowly. 'He's been having occasional stomach-aches, but I expect that is only the result of hot weather and the first asparagus. Lady Hannay is a little anxious—you know what she is, and all mothers to-day keep thinking about appendicitis. So I'm keeping my eye on the little man. You needn't worry, Dick.'
I take credit to myself for having divined the doctor's intention. I behaved as if I scarcely heard him, and as if Fosse Manor and my family were things infinitely remote. Indeed I switched off the conversation to where Medina had last left it, and I behaved towards Tom Greenslade as if his presence rather bored me, and I had very little to say to him. When he got up to go, it was Medina who accompanied him to the front door. All this was a heavy strain upon my self-command, for I would have given anything for a long talk with him—though I had the sense not to believe his news about Peter John.
'Not a bad fellow, that doctor of yours,' Medina observed on his return.
'No,' I said carelessly. 'Rather a dull dog all the same, with his country gossip. But I wish him well, for it is to him that I owe your friendship.'
I must count that episode one of my lucky moments, for it seemed to give Medina some special satisfaction. 'Why do you make this your only sitting-room?' he asked. 'The library is at your disposal, and it is pleasanter in summer than any other part of the house.'
'I thought I might be disturbing your work,' I said humbly.
'Not a bit of it. Besides, I've nearly finished my work. After to-night I can slack off, and presently I'll be an idle man.'
'And then the holiday?'
'Then the holiday.' He smiled in a pleasant boyish way, which was one of his prettiest tricks.
'How soon will that be?'
'If all goes well, very soon. Probably after the second of June. By the way, the Thursday Club dines on the first. I want you to be my guest again.'
Here was more food for thought. The conviction grew upon me that he and his friends had put forward the date of liquidation; they must have suspected something—probably from Sandy's presence in England—and were taking no risks. I smoked that evening till my tongue was sore and went to bed in a fever of excitement. The urgency of the matter fairly screamed in my ears, for Macgillivray must know the truth at once, and so must Mary. Mercot was safe, and there was a chance apparently of Turpin and Miss Victor, which must be acted upon instantly if the main date were changed. Of the little boy I had given up all hope… . But how to find the truth! I felt like a man in a bad dream who is standing on the line with an express train approaching, and does not know how to climb back on to the platform.
Next morning Medina never left me. He took me in his car to the City, and I waited while he did his business, and then to call in Carlton House Terrace a few doors from the Victors' house. I believe it was the residence of the man who led his party in the Lords. After luncheon he solemnly installed me in the library. 'You're not much of a reader, and in any case you would probably find my books dull. But there are excellent arm-chairs to doze in.'
Then he went out and I heard the wheels of his car move away. I felt a kind of awe creeping over me when I found myself left alone in the uncanny place, which I knew to be the devil's kitchen for all his schemes. There was a telephone on his writing-table, the only one I had seen in the house, though there was no doubt one in the butler's pantry. I turned up the telephone book and found a number given, but it was not the one on the receiver. This must be a private telephone, by means of which he could ring up anybody he wanted, but of which only his special friends
