insisted on talking to some, unimportant official in the police department, and was raving about it.
'I went up, and there was a handsome old boy, about sixty-five, propped on some pillows and hardly able to breathe. It was bright spring feather, but he was choking to death of pneumonia. He managed to ask me if I knew him. I said Nope, I hadn't that pleasure. Then he sort of smiled and pointed to a trunk. The manager and I opened it
'Well,' said Stone, in a somewhat awed voice. 'I don't need to give you all the details, but if there was ever a cabinet of Secret History opened, it was opened right there in that hotel room. Half the stuff I couldn't understand, because it was in foreign languages, but there were three or four decorations that anybody could understand. And from different countries: this L. played no favourites. There he was smiling away like a crazy man while he watched us at it.
'Afterwards he tried to tell his story. It boiled down to this. He had a daughter somewhere, and he didn't know where. He wasn't what you'd call an attentive parent; he was all for Number One and iced champagne on his own table. But he had a pretty tidy sum put by, and nobody else to leave it to, and he was trying to make amends. He thought the police could handle it better than any lawyers, because there weren't many clues to work on, so he begged me to get moving and find this girl. All be knew was that she'd been married about six years before to a young fellow who had just graduated from an Irish medical college. He didn't even know the man's name — except the first name, which was Lawrence. But there was a blurry kind of snapshot of him. That's not usually as much help as it sounds. All the same, I'm certain I've met the man. I'm certain I saw him to-night.'
Stone frowned, and seemed hesitant.
'You mean,' I said, 'Dr. Lawrence Antrim.'
'I think so. Mind,' said Stone aggressively, and pointed his cigar, 'at the moment it's none of my business. How many times have I got to tell you I'm on a holiday? I'll cable home, naturally, and let 'em track it down through the proper channels. Besides, it wasn't to find the girl or her husband that I was supposed to get in touch with Merrivale.
'The old boy died on the evening of the same day I went up to see him. It wasn't very spectacular,' complained Stone, who seemed somewhat annoyed and disappointed at this. He chewed his cigar. 'That is, he didn't give a big long speech or make a flourish or talk about the old days — I admit I was interested to hear something about it. He just took a couple of quick breaths, and looked as though he were sore about something, and died.
'Naturally, with all that stuff in the trunk, I thought I'd better get in touch with Washington. My God, were they interested! I learned afterwards that this L. was just about as big a name, in his own way, as the world's ever known. And there he was, folded up and ordinary like anybody else…. Here's the point, though. At Washington they told me it was believed L. was in England. They thought it would relieve Whitehall a whole lot if they learned L. was safely six feet under the earth, and they could call off their dogs. I don't know whether you know it, but no official cognizance between countries is taken of spies in peace-time. There's a polite pretence that they don't exist. However — since I was coming to England anyway — the Secretary thought it might be a good idea if I slid in quietly, and spoke to Merrivale, and set Whitehall's mind easy. You know what happened. That lunatic in the Panama hat…'
About us now was the bustle of Exeter station. A handtruck, laden with cigarettes and magazines, rolled past on the platform. The train breathed noisily. As yet there was no sign of discovery. And, even while I peered out of the window, I was more flustered by this new discovery than by any possibility of being caught.
It provided only one answer: the answer to Antrim's curious conduct that night, and the reason why he had become so frightened and suspicious of me when I — a friend of H.M. - was accused by Stone of coming to Torquay under a 'false name.' In other words, how much did Antrim know? Did he know, or suspect, that his wife was the daughter of a tolerably well-known figure on the shady side of international politics? Did he in some fashion think that the British government was interested in him?
Evelyn shook her head slowly.
'I say, Ken,' she protested, 'this makes even less sense than it did a while ago. What becomes of all the 'orrid plots and alarums? With L. out of the picture, how does Hogenauer fit into it? Hogenauer says L. is in England, and offers to tell who he is: well, Hogenauer lies. Why? Furthermore, where's the motive for Hogenauer's murder? If L. were alive, you might think he had killed Hogenauer to shut his mouth. But L. was dead and buried over a month before Hogenauer even made his proposal… I mean, of course, that is…'
'You mean,' Stone said grimly, 'if I'm telling the truth.'
'Yes,' I said. 'What's the exact proof of all this?'
'Oh, proof-!' Stone shook his fist. He crushed out his cigar, slapped at the knees of his trousers, and faced us with a sort of wild patience. 'What kind of proof do you want? Nobody knew L., did they? At least, nobody who will come out and speak up now. He was never finger-printed. He was never mugged. He was never even detained on suspicion. If you've got no clues to a man while he's alive, how are you going to get clues after he's dead, except by the evidence he carries with him? The American War Department is satisfied, and I'm satisfied. Of course, you might think I'm telling you a lot of ghost stories, but I hope you can see some reason why I'd be doing it. I've chased all over England just to find Merrivale and tell him this, and all I got was a kick in the pants for my pains. So take it or leave it as you like. I don't want to get mad over this thing, and I'll give you all the help I can. But either you do believe me or you don't; and in any case let's skip it.'
We were rolling out of Exeter. Evelyn and I looked at each other while Stone glowered at us: and it was impossible not to believe him. Evelyn soothed him down again while the miles rattled off behind us.
'But there's one important thing in connection with it,' I said. 'Why was L. in America? That is, was he on business? Was he occupied on any scheme then?'
'No. No, I'm pretty certain he wasn't.'
'Why?'
'Because he said so,' answered Stone with solemn heat. 'Now, remember, he didn't conceal one thing about himself. He knew he was a goner, and he told the whole truth. Would there be any reason for lying then?' Stone settled back luxuriously and contemplated the pictures over the seats. 'You've said I haven't done enough talking to justify what I've heard. But it strikes me there are a couple of points in connection with this murder that you're all overlooking.'
'Go on.'
'All right: tell me if I've got it straight. Last night Hogenauer goes to Antrim's house, and complains about his nerves or whatever it was; Antrim prescribes bromide, and Mrs. Antrim makes up the order. Somebody who wants to poison Hogenauer has got into the dispensary, switched the bromide and strychnine bottles, and pasted different labels on them. All right!' said Stone with emphasis, and extended his hand levelly. 'Now, what I want to know is how in Sam Hill a murderer could know Antrim was going to give bromide, so that the bottles could be switched beforehand? How did the murder find it out? And, if he found it out, how was there time to go racing in and fool around with the bottles between the time Antrim said, `Bromide,' and the time his wife handed it out?'
Evelyn looked over at me, and her hazel eyes were shining.
'I think he's got it, Ken,' she said. 'But where does that lead us? Towards Mrs. An — '
Stone waved his hand.
'I don't know. That's your business,' he replied off-handedly. 'I told you this was no business of mine and I don't want to put ideas into your head..'
'Which you're doing.'
'Which I'm doing, Blake, my lad,' he agreed, with a curious trace of amusement in the bland blue eyes behind the pince-nez. Again he seemed to be playing poker. 'So I'll give you another one on the house. The bottles might have been switched: might. It's possible. But, even so, the murderer took a longer chance than I'd want to take about something else-if you get me? How could the murderer be sure Hogenauer was going to drink strychnine in that one particular mineral-water which would hide the taste? Most people-damn near everybody, I'd say — mix a bromide in ordinary plain water. If Hogenauer had done that, he'd have known something was wrong at the first sip.'
'Probably,' I said, because Hogenauer drank nothing else. I told you about that lorry-load of bottles all over the back garden. Bowers said he was a teetotaller, and also he very likely didn't even drink the ordinary water out of the tap.'
Stone sat forward. 'That's exactly what I'm driving at. But who knew that? Who could know that he drank
