“Thank you,” said Parr simply. “Perhaps the Cabinet will take another view.”
The Cabinet meeting was held in the Secretary of State’s office; all the recipients of the Crimson Circle’s memo were present from the beginning, but it was some time before outsiders were called in.
Yale was summoned first, and a quarter of an hour later the messenger beckoned the inspector.
Inspector Parr knew most of the illustrious gathering by sight, and being on the opposite side in politics, had no particular respect for any. He felt an air of hostility as he came into the big room, and the chilly nod which the white-bearded Prime Minister gave him in response to his bow, confirmed this impression.
“Mr. Parr,” said the Prime Minister icily, “we are discussing the question of the Crimson Circle, which, as you must realise, has become almost a national problem. Their dangerous character has been emphasised by a memorandum which has been addressed to the various members of the Cabinet by this infamous association, and which, I have no doubt, you have read in the newspapers.”
“Yes, sir,” said the inspector.
“I will not disguise from you the fact that we are profoundly dissatisfied with the course which your investigations have taken. Although you have had every facility and every power granted you, including,” he consulted a paper before him, but Parr interrupted him.
“I should not like you to tell the meeting what powers I have received, Prime Minister,” he said firmly, “or what particular privileges have been granted me by the Secretary of State.”
The Prime Minister was taken aback.
“Very well,” he said. “I will add that, although you have had extraordinary privileges, and opportunities, and you have even been present when the outrages have taken place, you have not succeeded in bringing the criminal to justice.”
The inspector nodded.
“It was our original wish to place the matter in the hands of Mr. Derrick Yale, who has been especially successful in tracing two of the murderers, without, however, being able to bring the prime culprit to justice. Mr. Yale, however, refuses to accept the commission unless you are in control. He has kindly expressed his willingness to serve under you, and in this course we are agreed. I understand that your resignation is already before the Commissioners, and that it has been formally accepted. That acceptance, for the time being, is reserved. Now remember, Mr. Parr,” the Prime Minister leant forward and spoke very earnestly and emphatically: “It is absolutely impossible that we can accede to the Crimson Circle’s demands: such a course would be the negation of all law, and the surrender of all authority. We rely upon you to afford to every member of the Government who is threatened, that protection which is his right as a citizen. Your whole career is in the balance.”
The inspector, thus dismissed, rose slowly.
“If the Crimson Circle keeps its word,” he said, “I guarantee that not a hair of one member of your Government shall be harmed in London. Whether I can capture the man who describes himself as the Crimson Circle, remains to be seen.”
“I suppose,” said the Prime Minister, “there is no doubt that this unfortunate man, Heggitt, has been killed.”
It was Derrick Yale who answered.
“No, sir; the body was found early this morning. Mr. Heggitt, who lives at Marsden, left London last night by train, and apparently the crime was committed en route.”
“It is deplorable, deplorable.” The Prime Minister shook his head. “A terrible orgy of murder and crime, and it seems that we are not at the end of it yet.”
When they came out into Whitehall, Yale and his companion found that a large crowd had gathered, for news had leaked out that a meeting was being held to discuss this new and extraordinary problem which confronted the Government.
Yale, who was recognised, was cheered, but Inspector Parr passed unnoticed through the crowd—to his intense relief.
Undoubtedly the Crimson Circle was the sensation of the hour. Some of the evening newspaper placards bore a crimson circle in imitation of the famous insignia of the gang, and wherever men met, there the possibility of the Circle carrying their threat into effect was discussed.
Thalia Drummond looked up as her employer came in. The evening newspaper was in front of her, and her chin rested on her clasped hands, and she read every line, word by word.
Derrick noticed the interest, and observed, too, her momentary confusion as she folded the paper and put it away.
“Well, Miss Drummond, what do you think of their last exploit?”
“It is colossal,” she said. “In some respects, admirable.”
He looked at her gravely.
“I confess I can see little to admire,” he said. “You take rather a queer, twisted view of things.”
“Don’t I?” she said coolly. “You must never forget, Mr. Yale, that I have a queer, twisted mind.”
He paused at the door of his room and looked back at her, a long, keen scrutiny, which she met without so much as an eyelid quivering.
“I think you should be very grateful that Mr. Johnson, of Mildred Street, no longer receives your interesting communications,” he said, and she was silent.
He came out again soon after.
“I am probably going to establish my offices at police headquarters,” he said, “and realising that that atmosphere is one in which you will not flourish, I am leaving you here in control of my ordinary business.”
“Are you accepting the responsibility for capturing the Crimson Circle?” she asked steadily.
He shook his head.
“Inspector Parr is in control,” he said, “but I am going to help him.”
He made no further reference to his
