“I’m sure I beg your pardon, Mr. Plonk. I didn’t reckernize you in the dark.”
“No, of course you wouldn’t,” replied the plain-clothes officer. “Did you see two men run past here just now?”
“I did,” answered the constable. “One after the other, and both running as if the devil was after them. I was halfway up the street, but I popped down to have a look at them, and when I got to the corner I heard you coming. So I just kept out of sight and waited for you.”
“Quite right too,” said Mr. Plonk. “Well, I don’t see or hear anything of those chaps now.”
“No,” agreed the constable, “and you are not likely to. There’s a regular maze of new streets about here. You can take it that they’ve got clear away.”
“Yes, I’m afraid they have,” said Plonk. “Well, it can’t be helped, and there’s nothing much in it. Good night, constable.”
He moved off briskly, not wishing, apparently, to discuss the affair, and in a few minutes we came to the wide crossroads. Here he halted and looked me over by the light of a street lamp. Apparently the result was satisfactory, for he said: “It’s hardly worth while to take you all the way back to the station at this time of night. Where do you live?”
I told him Camden Square and offered a card in corroboration.
“Then you are pretty close home,” said he, inspecting my card. “Very well, Doctor. I’ll speak to Inspector Follett about this affair, and if you have any further trouble of this sort you had better let us know. And you had better let us have a description of the men in any case.”
I promised to send him the particulars on the following day, and we then parted with mutual good wishes, he making his way towards Holloway Road and I setting my face homeward by way of the Brecknock Road and keeping an uncommonly sharp lookout as I went.
XV
Thorndyke Proposes a New Move
On the following morning, in order to make sure of arriving before the detective officer, I presented myself at King’s Bench Walk a good half-hour before I was due. The door was opened by Thorndyke himself, and as we shook hands he said: “I am glad you have come early, Gray. No doubt Polton explained the programme to you, but I should like to make our position quite clear. The officer who is coming here presently is Detective-Superintendent Miller, of the Criminal Investigation Department. He is quite an old friend, and he is coming at my request to give me certain information. But, of course, he is a detective officer, with his own duties to his department, and an exceedingly shrewd, capable man. Naturally, if he can pick up any crumbs of information from us, he will; and I don’t want him to learn more, at present, than I choose to tell him.”
“Why do you want to keep him in the dark?” I asked.
“Because,” he replied, “we are doing quite well, and I want to get the case complete before I call in the police. If I were to tell him all I know and all I think, he might get too busy, and scare our man away before we have enough evidence to justify an arrest. As soon as the investigation is finished, and we have such evidence as will secure a conviction, I shall turn the case over to him; meanwhile, we keep our own counsel. Your role this morning will be that of listener. Whatever happens, make no comment. Act as if you knew nothing that is not of public knowledge.”
I promised to follow his directions to the letter, though I could not get rid of the feeling that all this secrecy was somewhat futile. Then I began to tell him of my experiences of the previous night, to which he listened at first with grave interest, but with growing amusement as the story developed. When I came to the final chase and the pursuing policeman, he leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.
“Why,” he exclaimed, wiping his eyes, “it was a regular procession! It only wanted a string of sausages and a harlequin to bring it up to pantomime form.”
“Yes,” I admitted with a grin, “it was a ludicrous affair. But it was a mighty mysterious affair too. You see, neither of the men was the man I had expected. There must be more people in this business than we had supposed. Have you any idea who these men can be?”
“It isn’t much use making vague guesses,” he replied. “The important point to note is that this incident, farcical as it turned out, might easily have taken a tragical turn; and the moral is that for the present you can’t be too careful in keeping out of harm’s way.”
It was obvious to me that he was evading my question; that those two sinister strangers were not the mystery to him that they were to me, and I was about to return to the charge with a more definitely pointed question when an elaborate flourish on the little brass knocker of the inner door announced a visitor.
The tall, military-looking man whom Thorndyke admitted was evidently the Superintendent, as I gathered from the mutual greetings. He looked rather hard at me until Thorndyke introduced me, which he did with characteristic reticence.
“This is Dr. Gray, Miller; you may remember his name. It was he who discovered the body of Mr. D’Arblay.”
“Yes, I remember,” said the Superintendent, shaking my hand unemotionally and still looking at me with a slightly dubious air.
“He is a good deal interested in the case,” Thorndyke continued, “not only professionally, but as a friend of the family—since the catastrophe.”
“I see,” said the Superintendent, taking a final inquisitive look at me and obviously wondering why the deuce I was there. “Well, there is nothing of a very secret nature in what I have
