Justice Hall - Laurie R. King [153]
That was as much of a promise as Holmes could elicit. With a final glare at the cut-throat nobleman, he turned his attention to me.
“One of the difficulties we encountered while you were on your Atlantic cruise was that both of the gentlemen in question had removed themselves from view. Darling was in Berlin for most of the past ten days, overseeing the hiring of staff for the offices of his new business there, and only returned to London on Monday. Ivo Hughenfort simply vanished, taking his manservant with him and leaving word only that he planned to return to Berkshire in time for the ball this week-end.
“I need hardly add, I think, that careful searches were conducted of the houses and grounds of both men. Four safes in total between them,” he noted, the tedium of extended safe-cracking clear in his voice, “and not a cache of letters to be found. A variety of illegal activities, particularly on the part of Mr Darling, but nothing to connect either with Gabriel Hughenfort.”
“The letters may have been destroyed.”
“It is always possible, although it is my experience that the criminal mind is generally loth to destroy an object which might be of future use.”
“So what do you propose?” I asked, although I thought I knew.
“A trap,” he replied. Marsh, Alistair, and Iris looked interested.
“Something to send him to his hiding place?”
“Precisely. It is a method I have used before—with, I will admit, varying degrees of success—but more often to bring an object to light than to confirm its existence. Success will require a minimum of four people, two on each suspect. I do not usually possess such riches.”
“What about me?” Iris objected.
“Have you any experience in what they call ‘tailing’ a suspect?” Holmes asked her.
“No, but how difficult—”
“Then you shall be our support staff. We are dealing with a clever man here, and it can not be expected that he will break immediately from cover. The more caution he possesses, the longer the process will take. You shall be in a central position near a telephone, with a motor and driver to hand, in order to bring whatever equipment or assistance we might require.”
“Such as what?” she demanded, certain she was merely being humoured.
“Anything from a change of disguise to a stick of dynamite.”
“Oh, very well. Although I had rather be of more use.”
“Your position, should it come into play, requires resourcefulness, steady nerves, and the ability to move quickly. I was under the impression that you possessed these characteristics.”
That cheered her. “I’ll do my best.”
“The bait for the trap?” Alistair enquired.
“I should think the marriage certificate would be the best. A witness to the document, perhaps, has come to light.”
“What about the priest who performed it?” I suggested. “We could say that Marsh has heard a rumour that Gabriel married a French girl, so he’s going to France next week to see—”
“No.” It was Marsh, looking unmovable. “The ball is intended to welcome the seventh Duke to Justice. It will do that.”
“Oh, Marsh,” Iris exclaimed. “You can’t put the boy in harm’s way!”
“I must. He will be removed immediately thereafter, and he and his mother will be sheltered until the matter is resolved.” I did not much care for the grim way in which he pronounced the word resolved, but Iris did not seem to notice. He went on. “However, Mary’s suggestion remains valid. I will let it be known that we will be searching for the church register. Whichever of the two breaks for the Continent first . . . will be our man.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Saturday’s ball was to be fancy-dress, its theme Tutankhamen’s Tomb, which had been opened the previous winter and instantly plunged the world into a state of raving Tutmania. While I was away in Canada, Justice Hall had been transported to the Valley of the Kings. With the minor complication of weather most unsuited to the Egyptian desert, in a dim light one might suspect one was in the archaeological dig that had just resumed for the season in Luxor, three thousand miles away. The final doors of Tutankhamen’s inner tomb lay ripe for the