Secret of Chimneys - Agatha Christie [46]
‘You don’t want me any longer, do you, Lomax?’ he inquired.
‘No, thank you, my dear fellow.’
‘Would it upset your plans if I returned to London, Superintendent Battle?’
‘I’m afraid so, sir,’ said the superintendent civilly. ‘You see, if you go, there will be others who’ll want to go also. And that would never do.’
‘Quite so.’
The great financier left the room, closing the door behind him.
‘Splendid fellow, Isaacstein,’ murmured George Lomax perfunctorily.
‘Very powerful personality,’ agreed Superintendent Battle.
George began to pace up and down again.
‘What you say distrubs me greatly,’ he began. ‘King Victor! I thought he was in prison?’
‘Came out a few months ago. French police meant to keep on his heels, but he managed to give them the slip straight away. He would too. One of the coolest customers that ever lived. For some reason or other, they believe he’s in England, and have notified us to that effect.’
‘But what should he be doing in England?’
‘That’s for you to say, sir,’ said Battle significantly.
‘You mean?–You think?–You know the story, of course–ah, yes, I can see you do. I was not in office, of course, at the time, but I heard the whole story from the late Lord Caterham. An unparalleled catastrophe.’
‘The Koh-i-noor,’ said Battle reflectively.
‘Hush, Battle!’ George glanced suspiciously round him. ‘I beg of you, mention no names. Much better not. If you must speak of it, call it the K.’
The superintendent looked wooden again.
‘You don’t connect King Victor with this crime, do you, Battle?’
‘It’s just a possibility, that’s all. If you cast your mind back, sir, you’ll remember that there were four places where a–er–certain royal visitor might have concealed the jewel. Chimneys was one of them. King Victor was arrested in Paris three days after the–disappearance, if I may call it that, of the K. It was always hoped that he would some day lead us to the jewel.’
‘But Chimneys has been ransacked and overhauled a dozen times.’
‘Yes,’ said Battle sapiently. ‘But it’s never much good looking when you don’t know where to look. Only suppose now, that this King Victor came here to look for the thing, was surprised by Prince Michael, and shot him.’
‘It’s possible,’ said George. ‘A most likely solution of the crime.’
‘I wouldn’t go as far as that. It’s possible, but not much more.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Because King Victor has never been known to take a life,’ said Battle seriously.
‘Oh, but a man like that–a dangerous criminal–’
But Battle shook his head in a dissatisfied manner.
‘Criminals always act true to type, Mr Lomax. It’s surprising. All the same–’ ‘Yes?’
‘I’d rather like to question the Prince’s servant. I’ve left him purposely to the last. We’ll have him in here, sir, if you don’t mind.’
George signified his assent. The superintendent rang the bell. Tredwell answered it, and departed with his instructions.
He returned shortly accompanied by a tall fair man with high cheekbones, and very deep-set blue eyes, and an impassivity of countenance, which almost rivalled Battle’s.
‘Boris Anchoukoff?’
‘Yes.’
‘You were valet to Prince Michael?’
‘I was His Highness’ valet, yes.’
The man spoke good English, though with a markedly harsh foreign accent.
‘You know that your master was murdered last night?’
A deep snarl, like the snarl of a wild beast, was the man’s only answer. It alarmed George, who withdrew prudently towards the window.
‘When did you see your master last?’
‘His Highness retired to bed at half past ten. I slept, as always, in the anteroom next to him. He must have gone down to the room downstairs by the other door, the door that gave on the corridor. I did not hear him go. It may be that I was drugged. I have been an unfaithful servant, I slept while my master woke. I am accursed.’
George gazed at him, fascinated.