“I hate firearms!” he exclaimed as he viewed the collection distastefully. “They are dangerous things, and when it comes to business they are scurvy weapons. Any poltroon can pull a trigger. But we must put ourselves on equal terms with our opponent, who is certain to be provided. Which will you have? I recommend this Baby Browning for portability. Have you had any practice?”
“Only target practice. But I am a fair shot with a revolver. I have never used an automatic.”
“We will go over the mechanism after supper,” said he. “Meanwhile, I hear the approach of Polton and am conscious of a voracious interest in what he is bringing. When did you feed last?”
“I had tea at the studio about half-past four.”
“My poor Gray!” he exclaimed, “you must be starving. I ought to have asked you sooner. However, here comes relief.” He opened a folding table by the fire just as Polton entered with the tray, on which I was gratified to observe a good-sized dish-cover and a claret-jug. Polton rapidly laid the little table and then, whisking off the cover, retired with a triumphant crinkle.
“You have a regular kitchen upstairs, I presume,” said I, as we took our seats at the table, “as well as a laboratory? And a pretty good cook, too, to judge by the results.”
Thorndyke chuckled. “The kitchen and the laboratory are one,” he replied, “and Polton is the cook. An uncommonly good cook, as you suggest, but his methods are weird. These cutlets were probably grilled in the cupel furnace, but I have known him to do a steak with the brazing-jet. There is nothing conventional about Polton. But whatever he does, he does to a finish; which is fortunate, because I thought of calling in his aid in our present difficulty.”
I looked at him inquiringly, and he continued: “If Miss D’Arblay is to go on with her work, which she ought to, as it is her livelihood, she must be guarded constantly. I had considered applying to Inspector Follett, and we may have to later; but for the present it will be better for us to keep our own counsel and play our own hand. We have two objects in view. First—and paramount—is the necessity of securing Miss D’Arblay’s safety. But, second, we want to lay our hands on this man, not to frighten him away, as we might do if we put the police on his track. When once we have him, her safety is secured forever, whereas if he were merely scared away he would be an abiding menace. We have got to catch him, and at present he is catchable. Secure in his unknown identity, he is lurking within reach, ready to strike, but also ready to be pounced upon when we are ready to pounce. Let us keep him confident of his safety while we are gathering up the clues.”
“H’m—yes,” I assented, without much enthusiasm. “What is it that you propose to do?”
“Somebody,” he replied, “must keep watch over Miss D’Arblay from the moment when she leaves her house until she returns to it. How much time—if any—can you give up to this duty?”
“My whole time,” I answered promptly. “I shall let everything else go.”
“Then,” said he, “I propose that you and Polton relieve one another on duty. It will be better than for you to be there all the time.”
I saw what he meant, and agreed at once. The conventions must be respected as far as possible.
“But,” I suggested, “isn’t Polton rather a lightweight—if it should come to a scrap, I mean?”
“Don’t undervalue small men, even physically,” he replied. “They are commonly better built than big men and more enduring and energetic. Polton is remarkably strong, and he has the pluck of a bulldog. But we must see how he is placed as regards work.”
The question was put to him and the position of affairs explained when he came down to clear the table; whereupon it appeared (from his own account) that he was absolutely without occupation of any kind and pining for something to do. Thorndyke laughed incredulously but did not contest this outrageous and barefaced untruth, merely remarking:
“I am afraid it will be rather an idle time for you.”
“Oh, no, it won’t, sir,” Polton assured him emphatically. “I’ve always wanted to learn something about sculptor’s moulding and wax-casting, but I’ve never had a chance. Now I shall have. And that opportunity isn’t going to be wasted.”
Thorndyke regarded his assistant with a twinkling eye. “So it was mere self-seeking that made you so enthusiastic,” he said. “But you are quite a good moulder already.”
“Not a sculptor’s moulder, sir,” replied Polton; “and I know nothing about waxwork. But I shall, before I have been there many days.”
“I am sure you will,” said Thorndyke. “Miss D’Arblay will have an apprentice and journeyman in one. You will be able to give her quite a lot of help; which will be valuable just now while her hand is disabled. When do you think she will be able to go back to work, Gray?”
“I can’t say. Not tomorrow certainly. Shall I send you a report when I have seen her?”
“Do,” he replied; “or, better still, come in tomorrow evening and give me the news. So, Polton, we shan’t want you for another day or so.”
“Ah!” said Polton, “then I shall be able to finish that recording-clock before I go;” upon which Thorndyke and I laughed aloud and Polton, his mendacity thus unmasked, retired with the tray, crinkling but unabashed.
The short remainder of the evening—or rather, of the night—was spent in the study of the mechanism and mode of use of automatic pistols. When I finally bestowed the “Baby,” fully loaded, in my hip-pocket, and rose to
