Sir Lawson turned the thing over. “A woman’s hatpin. About half a woman’s hatpin.”
“Fresh fracture. Broke as it was pushed in.”
“They’re a wild lot,” said Sir Lawson, and smiled. “You have no nerves, Fortune?”
“I believe not, sir.”
“This ought to be the making of you. You want shaking up. You must stay in the house. By the way, who’s in the house?”
“The Archduchess, of course—”
“Ianthe. Yes. Aunt’s in a madhouse. Ianthe. Yes. Crazy on motoring. Drives her own car. And have you see Ianthe—since?” Sir Lawson nodded at the body on the bed.
“She is very excited.”
“Is she really?” Sir Lawson laughed. “Is she, though? How surprising!”
“She is surprising, sir.”
“What? What? Be careful, my boy. Handsome creature, isn’t she?”
“Yes, sir.” Reggie declined to be amused. “The Archduke Leopold is staying with them.”
“Leopold. He’s the dandy entomologist. He’s tame enough. Well, he’s the head of the house after this fellow. Better tell him.” He blinked at Reggie. “You have nurses you can trust? Well, we’ll stay in the room till one comes, my boy. Our friend of the hatpin won’t miss a chance. These Royal families they’re a crisscross of criminal tendencies. Hohenzollerns, Hapsburgs, Pragas, Wittelsbachs—look at the heredity.”
“There was another running-down case here tonight. The man was killed—fractured skull. He was left on the road too. And another queer thing—he was much the same build as the Archduke Maurice.”
“Good Gad!” Sir Lawson was startled out of his omniscient manner, an event unknown in Reggie’s experience. “There’s something devilish in it, Fortune. One murder—the wrong man dead—and then try again at once the same way. Imagine the creature looking at that poor dead wretch and jumping on the car again to drive it on at the other man. Diabolical! Diabolical!”
“I don’t think I have much imagination, sir,” said Reggie, who was not impressed by ineffective emotion.
There was a gentle tap at the door, a nurse came and was given her instructions, and the two men went down to the Archduke Leopold.
He had changed his clothes. He was now in a claret-coloured velvet which did violence to his complexion and his pale beard. He sat in the smoking-room with a book on the entomology of Java and a glass of eau sucrée. He smiled at them and waved them to chairs.
“I have to tell you, sir, that your brother lies in grave danger,” said Sir Lawson.
Reggie looked at him sideways.
“Ah, the concussion! It is serious, then? I am deeply distressed.”
“The concussion is most serious. There’s another matter. In your brother’s chest above the heart, at which it must have been aimed, we have found—this.”
“Mon Dieu! It is a hatpin—a woman’s hatpin. But it is incredible! It is murder.”
“Attempted murder.”
“But what do you suggest, sir? Do you accuse someone?”
“Not my function. That pin was driven at your brother’s heart by someone. Can you tell me any more, sir?”
The Archduke buried his face in his hands. “I will not believe it,” he muttered—“I will not believe it.” After a little he controlled himself. “Gentlemen, you have a right to my confidence. I will tell you everything. I trust you to do all that is possible for my poor brother and for the honour of our family, which to him, as to me, is dearer than life. You know that he is the heir to the throne of Bohemia. My uncle, the Emperor, has long been vexed with his living in England. I came here to persuade my brother to go back to his country. My poor brother had made his home here at the wish of the Archduchess, who dislikes the duties of royalty. He was passionately, madly, in love with her. But, alas! in these love marriages there is often difficulty. They were not of the same mind upon many things, and the Archduchess is of a vehement temper. I fear—but you will forgive me if I say no more. I take one small thing. My brother loved to go walking. The Archduchess is passionately fond of her motorcar, drives it herself, loves wild speed. My brother detested motorcars. I fear that my coming gave them cause for fresh quarrels. My brother was ready to go back to Bohemia. The Archduchess was violently opposed to it. I confess to you, gentlemen, I have feared some scandal, some madness. I thought she would leave him. But this—it is appalling.”
“The Archduchess was out in her motorcar tonight?” Sir Lawson said.
“Yes. Yes. It is true. But this—must we think it?”
“We have to think of nothing but our duty to our patient,” said Sir Lawson.
The Archduke grasped his hand. “You are right. I thank you. I shall not forget your fidelity.”
The Archduchess whirled into the room. She, as Reggie remarked, had not cared to change her clothes. She had not even touched her hair, which was escaping in a wild disorder from under her hat. “They will not let me see him,” she cried. “Leopold—”
“It is by my instructions, madame,” Sir Lawson said. “I am responsible for the Archduke’s safety.”
She bit her lip. “Is he so hurt?” she said unsteadily.
“He lies in very grave danger, madame. I permit no one in his room.”
She stared at him, her throat quivering, her great eyes bold and bright. Then with a little shrug she turned away and, plucking at the gold things which jingled from her waist, took out a cigarette and lit it. Reggie saw one of those foreign matches with the violet heads.
Sir Lawson made his bow, and Reggie went with him to his car. “Why did you tell them that the Archduke was in grave danger?” he said.
“He’ll be safer if they believe he is going to die,” said Sir Lawson.
“Oh, do you think so?” said Reggie, as the car shot away.
Then he made an excellent supper and slept sound.
He found his patient peaceful in the morning. No sign of consciousness yet, but more colour in the cheeks, a deeper breathing and a stronger
