'Nothing that I can recall,' said Leblanc. 'He was young, not more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight.'
'I know his name,' said Jessop, frowning. 'I think – I am almost sure – that he read a paper before the Royal Society.'
'Then there is the religieuse,' Leblanc said, turning back to the list. 'Sister Marie something or other. Andrew Peters, also American. Dr. Barron. That is a celebrated name, le doctor Barron. A man of great brilliance. An expert on virus diseases.'
'Biological warfare,' said Jessop. 'It fits. It all fits.'
'A man poorly paid and discontented,' said Leblanc.
'How many going to St. Ives?' murmured Jessop.
The Frenchman shot him a quick look and he smiled apologetically.
'Just an old nursery rhyme,' he said. 'For St. Ives read question mark. Journey to nowhere.'
The telephone on the table buzzed and Leblanc picked up the receiver.
'Allo?' he said. 'Qu'est ce qu'il y a? Ah, yes, send them up.' He turned his head towards Jessop. His face was suddenly alive, vigorous. 'One of my men reporting,' he said. 'They have found something. Mon cher collegue, it is possible – I say no more – possible that your optimism is justified.'
A few moments later two men entered the room. The first bore a rough resemblance to Leblanc, the same type, stocky, dark, intelligent. His manner was respectful but exhilarated. He wore European clothes badly stained and marked, covered with dust. He had obviously just arrived from a journey. With him was a native wearing the white local dress. He had the dignified composure of the dweller in remote places. His manner was courteous but not subservient. He looked with a faint wonder round the room whilst the other man explained things in rapid French.
'The reward was offered and circulated,' the man explained, 'and this fellow and his family and a great many of his friends have been searching diligently. I let him bring you the find himself as there may be questions you want to ask him.'
Leblanc turned to the Berber -
'You have done good work,' he said, speaking now in the man's own language. 'You have the eyes of the hawk, my father. Show us then what you have discovered.'
From a fold in his white robe the man took out a small object, and stepping forward laid it on the table before the Frenchman. It was rather a large sized pinkish grey synthetic pearl.
'It is like the one shown to me and shown to others,' he said. 'It is of value and I have found it.'
Jessop stretched out a hand and took the pearl. From his pocket he drew out another exactly like it and examined both. Then he walked across the room to the window, and examined them both through a powerful lens.
'Yes,' he said, 'the mark is there.' There was jubilation now in his voice and he came back to the table. 'Good girl,' he said, 'good girl, good girl! She managed it!'
Leblanc was questioning the Berber in a rapid exchange of Arabic. Finally he turned to Jessop.
'I make my apologies, mon cher collegue,' he said. 'This pearl was found at a distance of nearly half a mile from the flaming plane.'
'Which shows,' said Jessop, 'that Olive Betterton was a survivor, and that though seven people left Fez in the plane and seven charred bodies were found, one of those charred bodies was definitely not hers.'
'We extend the search now,' said Leblanc. He spoke again to the Berber and the man smiled back happily. He left the room with the man who had brought him in. 'He will be handsomely rewarded as promised,' said Leblanc, 'and there will be a hunt now all over the countryside for these pearls. They have hawk eyes, these people, and the knowledge that these are worth good money in reward will pass round like a grapevine. I think – I think, mon cher collegue, that we shall get results! If only they have not tumbled to what she was doing.'
Jessop shook his head.
'It would be such a natural occurrence,' he said. 'The sudden breaking of a necklace of costume jewellery such as most women wear, the picking up apparently of what loose pearls she can find and stuffing them into her pocket, then a little hole in the pocket. Besides, why should they suspect her? She is Olive Betterton, anxious to join her husband.'
'We must review this matter in a new light,' said Leblanc. He drew the passenger list towards him. 'Olive Betterton. Dr. Barron,' he said, ticking off the two names. 'Two at least who are going – wherever they are going. The American woman, Mrs. Calvin Baker. As to her we keep an open mind. Torquil Ericsson you say has read papers before the Royal Society. The American, Peters, was described on his passport as a Research Chemist. The religieuse – well, it would make a good disguise. In fact, a whole cargo of people cleverly shepherded from different points to travel in that one plane on that particular day. And then the plane is discovered in flames and inside it the requisite number of charred bodies. How did they manage that, I wonder? Enfin, c'est colossal!'
'Yes,' said Jessop. 'It was the final convincing touch. But we know now that six or seven people have started off on a fresh journey, and we know where their point of departure is. What do we do next – visit the spot?'
'But precisely,' said Leblanc. 'We take up advanced headquarters. If I mistake not, now that we are on the track, other evidence will come to light.'
'If our calculations are exact,' Leblanc said, 'there should be results.'
The calculations were many and devious. The rate of progress of a car, the likely distance where it would refuel, possible villages where travellers might have stayed the night. The tracks were many and confusing, disappointments were continual, but every now and then there came a positive result.
'Voila, mon capitaine! A search of the latrines, as you ordered. In a dark corner of the latrine a pearl embedded in a little piece of chewing gum in the house of one Abdul Mohammed. He and his sons have been interrogated. At first they denied, but at last they have confessed. A carload of six people said to be from the German archaeological expedition spent a night in his house. Much money was paid, and they were not to mention this to anyone, the excuse being that there was some illicit digging in prospect. Children in the village of El Kaif also have brought in two more pearls. We know now the direction. There is more, Monsieur le Capitaine. The hand Fatma has been seen as you foretold. This type here, he will tell you about it.'
'This type' was a particularly wild-looking Berber.
'I was with my flocks,' he said, 'at night and I heard a car. It passed me and as it did so I saw the sign. The hand of Fatma was outlined on one side of it. It gleamed, I tell you, in the darkness.'
'The application of phosphorous on a glove can be very efficacious,' murmured Leblanc. 'I congratulate you, mon cher, on that idea.'
'It's effective,' said Jessop, 'but it's dangerous. It's too easily noticed by the fugitives themselves, I mean.'
Leblanc shrugged his shoulders.
'It could not be seen in daylight.'
'No, but if there was a halt and they alighted from the car in the darkness -'
'Even then – it is a notable Arab superstition. It is painted often on carts and wagons. It would only be thought that some pious Moslem had painted it in luminous paint on his vehicle.'
'True enough. But we must be on our guard. For if our enemies did notice it, it is highly possible that they will lay a false trail for us, of hands of Fatma in phosphorous paint.'
'Ah, as to that I agree with you. One must indeed be on one's guard. Always, always on one's guard.'
On the following morning Leblanc had another exhibit of three false pearls arranged in a triangle, stuck together by a little piece of chewing gum.
'This should mean,' said Jessop, 'that the next stage of the journey was by plane.'
He looked enquiringly at Leblanc.
'You are absolutely right,' said the other. 'This was found on a disused army airfield, in a remote and desolate place. There were signs that a plane landed and left there not long ago.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'An unknown plane,' he said, 'and once again they took off for a destination unknown. That brings us once more to a halt and we do not know where next to take up the trail.'
Chapter 15
