“You are certain that you were not followed here,” said Mr. Robinson.
“As certain as anyone can ever be,” answered Freyder. “Twice I stopped the car at the end of a long, straight stretch of road and turned into a lane. There was no sign of anyone. I didn’t bother to change the tyres, since most of the road is tar macadam and there’s been no rain. And really there are so many Dunlop Magnums about now, that it’s only a waste of time.”
“And as far as I could make out, the telephone operator had no suspicions,” went on his Chief. “You did it extremely skilfully and silently. So I think, Freyder, we can assume on twenty-four hours for certain before anyone even begins to take any notice. Drummond is a man of peculiar habits, and, somewhat naturally, when I realised he was coming here, I sent a letter in his writing to that inconceivable poop Longworth. A friend of his,” he explained, seeing the look of mystification on the other’s face, “who is engaged to Miss Goodman. It states that he is hot on the trail and the postmark will be Birmingham. So I think we can certainly rely on twenty-four hours, or even forty-eight before his friends begin to move. And that will give me plenty of time to ensure that our friend upstairs has not forgotten his process. Once I am assured of that, and he has written out in a legible hand the ingredients he uses, we will delay no longer. It’s a nuisance—for I detest manual labour and smells in a laboratory. And but for Drummond, as you know, we would have remained on here for six months or so, and let the old fool make the stones himself, before disposing of him finally. But since this slight contretemps has occurred, I shall have, much as I regret it, to dispense with that part of the programme. Once I know for certain that I can do it myself—and I shall devote tomorrow to that exclusively—we will give up this house forthwith and go on board the yacht. A good idea of mine—that yacht, Freyder. There is nothing like dying convincingly to enable one to live in comfort.”
Freyder grinned, as he watched Mr. Robinson help himself to a mild whisky and soda: undoubtedly the Chief was in an excellent humour.
“We’ve run a pretty big risk this time, my dear fellow,” he went on thoughtfully. “And sometimes it almost staggers me when I think how wonderfully we’ve succeeded. But I am under no delusions as to the abilities of the English police. Once they get on to a thing they never let go—and sooner or later they are bound to get on to this. Probably they will do it through Drummond’s disappearance, and Scheidstrun. Sooner or later they will track our connection with this house, and the good ship Gadfly. And then when they find that the Gadfly left England and has never been heard of again, with true British phlegm they will assume that she has sunk with all hands. And Sir Raymond Blantyre will breathe again—unless they’ve put the scoundrel in prison for having suggested such an abominable crime to me; in fact, everyone will breathe again except Drummond and our friend upstairs. Oh! and Mr. Lewisham. Did you attend the obsequies on Mr. Lewisham, Freyder?”
“I did not,” laughed Freyder; and Mr. Robinson, contrary to his usual custom, helped himself to another whisky and soda.
“Yes,” he continued dreamily, “it’s a wonderful end to what I may claim without conceit has been a wonderful career. Henceforward, Freyder, my life will be one of blameless virtue.”
The other shook his head doubtfully.
“You’ll find it a bit monotonous, Chief,” he said.
Mr. Robinson smiled.
“Perhaps so—but I shall give it a trial. And whenever it becomes too monotonous, I shall merely remove more money from the pockets of those two villainous men Blantyre and Leibhaus. It almost makes one despair of human nature when one realises that such cold-blooded scoundrels exist.”
“And Drummond! Have you made up your mind yet as to how you intend to dispose of him?”
“Quite simply,” replied Mr. Robinson genially. “I shall merely attach some heavy weights to his feet and drop him overboard. I am not anxious that his body should be recovered, any more than that of our other friend. That part of the affair presents no difficulties.” His eyes, grown suddenly hard and cruel, fastened on the motionless figure of Drummond, still sprawling on the floor. And suddenly he rose and bent over him with a look of anxiety on his face which changed to relief.
“For a moment I thought he was dead,” he remarked, resuming his seat. “And that would have been a real grief to me. For him to die without knowing would rob this final coup of its crown. It is the one thing needed, Freyder, to make it perfect.”
The other looked at him curiously.
“How you must hate him, Chief!”
A strange look came into Mr. Robinson’s eyes, and involuntarily Freyder shuddered. Anger, rage, passion, he had seen on many men’s faces, but never before such cold-blooded ferocity as that which showed on the face of the man opposite.
“We all have our weaknesses, Freyder, and I confess that Drummond is mine. And incredible though it may sound to you, if such a thing were possible as for me to have to choose between revenge on him and getting away with Professor Goodman’s secret, I believe I would choose the former.”
For a while he sat silent; then with a short laugh he rose. Mr. Robinson was his benevolent self once more.
“Happily the alternative is not likely to arise. We have both, my dear fellow—thanks largely to your quickness and skill. And now I think I will go upstairs and see how our friend is getting on. By this time he should be very nearly ready
