With a genial smile he left the room and went downstairs. Whatever may have been his thoughts only the most perfect equanimity showed on his face. He possessed that most priceless asset of any great leader—the power of concealing bad news from his staff. In fact the tighter the corner the more calmly confident did this man always look. Nothing is more fatal to any enterprise than the knowledge on the part of subordinates that the man in charge is shaken. And though he would hardly admit it to himself, Mr. William Robinson was badly shaken. In fact when he reached his own private sanctum he did a thing which in his whole long career of crimes he had done but twice before. From a small locked cabinet he took a bottle containing a white powder, and calmly and methodically he measured out a dose which he sniffed up his nose. And had anyone seen this secret operation, he would have realised that the man was the master and not the drug. Only one man in a million may employ cocaine as a servant and keep it in that position: Mr. William Robinson was that one.
Deliberately he sat down to await the drug’s action; then with a faint smile he rose and replaced the bottle in the cabinet. The nerve crisis had passed; the master-criminal was himself again.
“Freyder,” he remarked as that worthy entered the room in answer to the bell, “a slight hitch has occurred in my scheme. The indecipherable notes which I so carefully extracted from our friend’s pocket yesterday refer apparently to the prolongation of the lives of rabbits and other fauna. The ones we require are—er—elsewhere. I, naturally, propose to obtain them forthwith, but it will be necessary to proceed with a certain amount of discretion. Incredible to relate, they are in the possession of a young gentleman whom we have come across before—one Drummond.”
Freyder’s breath came in a sharp whistle.
“I see that you recall the name,” went on the other quietly. “And I must say that when Professor Goodman informed me of the fact, I felt for the moment unreasonably annoyed. One cannot legislate for everything, and how any man out of an asylum could give that vast fool anything of importance to look after is one of those things which I confess baffles me completely. However, all that concerns us is that he has them at the moment: the problem is to remove them from his keeping as rapidly as possible. Under normal circumstances the solution of that problem would have presented no difficulties, but Drummond, I am bound to admit, is not normal. In fact, Freyder, as you may remember, I have twice made the unforgivable mistake of underestimating him. This time, however, I have decided on a little scheme which, though a trifle complicated at first sight, is, in reality, profoundly simple. Moreover, it appeals to my sense of humour, which is a great point in its favour. You have your notebook? Then I will give you my instructions.”
They were clear and concise with no possibility of a misunderstanding, and, as Mr. Robinson had said, they contained in them a touch of humour that was akin to genius. In fact, despite the seriousness of the situation, on two or three occasions Freyder broke into uncontrollable chuckles of laughter. The whole thing was so gloriously simple that it seemed there must be a flaw somewhere, and yet, try as he would, he could discover none.
“The essence of the whole thing is speed, Freyder,” said his Chief, rising at length. “It is impossible to say what Drummond will do with those notes if he’s left too long in undisturbed possession of them. He must know their value, but for all that he’s quite capable of using them for shaving paper. The one thing, knowing him, which I don’t think he will do is to take them to Scotland Yard. But I don’t want to run any risks. To have to be content with a miserable half-million for this little affair would deprive me of my reason. I should totter to an early grave, as a grey-headed old man. So speed, don’t forget—speed is absolutely essential.”
“I can make all arrangements tonight, Chief,” said Freyder, rising, “and start at dawn tomorrow morning. Back tomorrow evening, and the whole thing can be done the day after.”
“Good,” answered the other. “Then send for the car at once and we’ll get off.”
And thus it happened that two hours after Mr. Edward Blackton had arrived at his house on the borders of the New Forest, Mr. William Robinson left it again. But on the return journey it is to be regretted that he no longer wished to hear the birds sing or put buttercups in his hair. He sat in his corner sunk in silence while the powerful limousine ate up the miles to London. And his companion Freyder knew better than to break that silence.
It was not until the tramlines at Hounslow were reached that he spoke.
“If I fail to settle accounts with Drummond this time, Freyder, I’ll do as he once recommended and take to growing tomatoes.”
Freyder grunted.
“The notes first, Chief, and after that the man. You’ll win this time.” He spoke down the speaking-tube and the car slowed up. “I’ll get out here; our man is close-to. And I’ll be back tomorrow evening.”
He gave the chauffeur the name of a residential hotel in a quiet part of Bayswater, and stood for a moment watching the car drive away. Then he turned and disappeared down a side-street,
