“What did you do then?” asked Sir Bryan.
“Well, I brought the brain to bear,” answered Hugh, “and decided there was nothing to do. He was doped, and I was bottled—so by a unanimous casting vote of one—I toddled off home. But Tumkins, while I was feeding the goldfish this morning—or rather after lunch—conscience was gnawing at my vitals. And after profound meditation, and consulting with my fellow Denny, I decided that the call of duty was clear. I came to you, Tumkins, as a child flies to its mother. Who better, I thought, than old Tum-tum to listen to my maidenly secrets? And so …”
“One moment, Hugh,” Sir Bryan held up his hand. “Do you mind if I speak to Inspector McIver for a moment?”
“Anything you like, old lad,” murmured Drummond. “But be merciful. Remember my innocent wife in the country.”
And silence settled on the room, broken only by the low-voiced conversation between McIver and his chief in the window. By their gestures it seemed as if Sir Bryan was suggesting something to his subordinate to which that worthy officer was a little loath to agree. And after a while a strangled snore from the chair announced that Drummond was ceasing to take an intelligent interest in things mundane.
“He’s an extraordinary fellow, McIver,” said Sir Bryan, glancing at the sleeper with a smile. “I’ve known him ever since we were boys at school. And he’s not quite such a fool as he makes himself out. You remember that extraordinary case over the man Peterson a year or so ago. Well, it was he who did the whole thing. His complete disability to be cunning utterly defeated that master-crook, who was always looking for subtlety that wasn’t there. And of course his strength is absolutely phenomenal.”
“I know, sir,” said McIver doubtfully, “but would he consent to take on such a job—and do exactly as he was told?”
They were both looking out of the window, while in the room behind them the heavy breathing of the sleeper rose and fell monotonously. And when the whole audience is asleep it ceases to be necessary to talk in undertones. Which was why Sir Bryan and the Inspector during the next ten minutes discussed certain matters of import which they would not have discussed through megaphones at the Savoy. They concerned Hugh and other things, and the other things particularly were of interest. And they continued discussing these other things until, with a dreadful noise like a racing motor backfiring, the sleeper sat up in his chair and stretched himself.
“Tumkins,” he cried. “I have committed sacrilege. I have slept in the Holy of Holies. Have you decided on my fate? Am I to be shot at dawn?”
Sir Bryan left the window and sat down at his desk. For a moment or two he rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his left hand, as if trying to make up his mind: then he lay back in his chair and stared at his erstwhile fag.
“Would you like to do a job of work, old man?”
Hugh started as if he had been stung by a wasp, and Sir Bryan smiled.
“Not real work,” he said reassuringly. “But by mere luck last night you saw something which Inspector McIver would have given a good deal to see. Or to be more accurate, you saw some men whom McIver particularly wants to meet.”
“Those blokes in the car, you mean,” cried Hugh brightly.
“Those blokes in the car,” agreed the other. “Incidentally, I may say there was a good deal more in that little episode than you think: and after consultation with McIver I have decided to tell you a certain amount about it, because you can help us, Hugh. You see, you’re one up on McIver: you have at any rate seen those men and he hasn’t. Moreover, you say you could recognize two of them again.”
“Good heavens! Tumkins,” murmured Hugh aghast, “don’t say you want me to tramp the streets of London looking for them.”
Sir Bryan smiled.
“We’ll spare you that,” he answered. “But I’d like you to pay attention to what I’m going to tell you.”
Hugh’s face assumed the look of intense pain always indicative of thought in its owner.
“Carry on, old bird,” he remarked. “I’ll try and last the course.”
“Last night,” began Sir Bryan quietly, “a very peculiar thing happened to McIver. I won’t worry you with the full details, and it will be enough if I just give you a bare outline of what occurred. He and some of his men in the normal course of duty surrounded a certain house in which were some people we wanted to lay our hands on. To be more accurate there was one man there whom we wanted. He’d been shadowed ever since he’d landed in England that morning, shadowed the whole way from the docks to the house. And sure enough when McIver and his men surrounded the house, there was our friend and all his pals in one of the downstairs rooms. It was then that this peculiar thing happened. I gather from McIver that he heard the noise of an owl hooting, also a faint scuffle and a curse. And after that he heard nothing more. He was chloroformed from behind, and went straight out of the picture.”
“Great Scott!” murmured Hugh, staring incredulously at McIver. “What an amazing thing!”
“And this is where you come in, Hugh,” continued Sir Bryan.
“Me!” Hugh sat up abruptly. “Why me?”
“One of the men inside the room was an interesting fellow known as Flash Jim. He is a burglar of no mean repute, though he is quite ready to tackle any sort of job which carries money with it. And when McIver, having recovered himself this morning, ran Flash Jim to ground in one of his haunts, he was quite under the impression that the men who had doped him and the other officers were
