Drummond fumbled in his pocket.
“I’ll hand ’em over right enough,” he remarked wearily. “I wish I’d never seen the blamed things.”
He passed the sheets of paper across the desk to Mr. Tootem.
“If I don’t get outside a pint of beer soon,” he continued, reaching for his hat, “there will be a double event in the funeral line.”
Once again he apologised profusely to the German, and staggered slightly in his tracks as he gazed at the lady. Then blindly he made his way to the door, and twenty minutes later he entered his house a comparatively broken man. Even Algy awoke from his lethargy and gazed at him appalled.
“You mean to say you pulled the old bean’s nose?” he gasped.
“This way and that,” sighed Hugh. “And very, very hard. Only nothing like as hard as his wife hit me. She’s got a sweeping left, Algy, like the kick of a mule. Good Lord! what an unholy box-up. I must say if it hadn’t been for old Tootem, it might have been deuced serious. The office looked like the morning after a wet night.”
“So you’ve handed over the notes?”
“I have,” said Hugh savagely. “And as I told old Tootem in his office, I wish to heavens I’d never seen the bally things. Old Scheidstrun’s got ’em, and he can keep ’em.”
Which was where the error occurred. Professor Scheidstrun had certainly got them—Mr. Tootem senior had pressed them into his hands with almost indecent brevity the instant Drummond left the office—but Professor Scheidstrun was not going to keep them. At that very moment, in fact, he was handing them over to a benevolent-looking old gentleman with mutton-chop whiskers in a room in Mr. Atkinson’s house in the quiet square.
“Tell me all about it,” murmured the old gentleman, with a smile. “You’ve no idea how interested I am in it. I would have given quite a lot to have been present myself.”
“Mein Gott!” grunted the Professor. “He is a holy terror, that man. He tear off my wig; he try to tear off my nose.”
“And then I him on the ear hit,” boomed his wife.
“Splendid,” chuckled the other. “Quite splendid. He is a violent young man at times is Captain Drummond.”
“It was that the colour of my wig was different that first made him suspect,” went on the German. “And then I do what you tell me—I tap with my left hand so upon my knee. The next moment he jumps upon me like a madman.”
“I thought he probably would,” said the old gentleman. “A very amusing little experiment in psychology. You might make a note of it, Professor. The surest way of allaying suspicions is to arouse them thoroughly, and then prove that they are groundless. Hence your somewhat sudden summons by aeroplane from Germany. I have arranged that you should return in the same manner tomorrow after the funeral—which you will attend this afternoon.”
“It was inconvenient—that summons,” said his wife heavily. “And my husband has been assaulted …”
Her words died away as she looked at the benevolent old man. For no trace of benevolence remained on his face, and she shuddered uncontrollably.
“People who do inconvenient things, Frau,” he said quietly, “and get found out must expect inconvenient calls to be made upon them.”
“How long is this to continue?” she demanded. “How long are we to remain in your power? This is the second time that you have impersonated my husband. I tell you when I heard that young man speaking this morning, and knew how near he was to the truth—almost did I tell him.”
“But not quite. Not quite, Frau Scheidstrun. You are no fool; you know what would have happened if you had. I still hold the proofs of your husband’s unfortunate slip a year or two ago.”
His eyes were boring into her, and once again she shuddered.
“I shall impersonate your husband when and where I please,” he continued, “if it suits my convenience. I regard him as one of my most successful character-studies.”
His tone changed; he was the benevolent old gentleman again.
“Come, come, my dear Frau Scheidstrun,” he remarked affably, “you take an exaggerated view of things. After all, the damage to your husband’s nose is slight, considering the far-reaching results obtained by letting that young man pull it. All his suspicions are allayed; he merely thinks he’s made a profound ass of himself. Which is just as it should be. Moreover, with the mark in its present depreciated state, I think the cheque I propose to hand to your husband for the trouble he has taken will ease matters in the housekeeping line.”
He rose from his chair chuckling.
“Well, I think that is all. As I said before, you will attend the funeral this afternoon. Such a performance does not call for conversation, and so it will not be necessary for me to prime you with anything more than you know already. Your brother-scientists, who will doubtless be there in force, you will know how to deal with far better than I, seeing that I should undoubtedly fail to recognise any of them. And should Drummond be there—well, my dear fellow, I leave it to your sense of
