Secret of Chimneys - Agatha Christie [88]
He was interrupted by Tredwell.
‘Well,’ said Lord Caterham, irritably, ‘what is it?’
‘The French detective is here, my lord, and would be glad if you could spare him a few minutes.’
‘What did I tell you?’ said Lord Caterham. ‘I knew it was too good to last. Depend up on it, they’ve found Fish’s dead body doubled up in the goldfish pond.’
Tredwell, in a strictly respectful manner, steered him back to the point at issue.
‘Am I to say that you will see him, my lord?’
‘Yes, yes. Bring him in here.’
Tredwell departed. He returned a minute or two later announcing in a lugubrious voice:
‘Monsieur Lemoine.’
The Frenchman came in with a quick, light step. His walk, more than his face, betrayed the fact that he was excited about something.
‘Good evening, Lemoine,’ said Lord Caterham. ‘Have a drink, won’t you?’
‘I thank you, no.’ He bowed punctiliously to the ladies. ‘At last I make progress. As things are, I felt that you should be acquainted with the discoveries–the very grave discoveries that I have made in the course of the last twenty-four hours.’
‘I thought there must be something important going on somewhere,’ said Lord Caterham.
‘My lord, yesterday afternoon one of your guests left this house in a curious manner. From the beginning, I must tell you, I have had my suspicions. Here is a man who comes from the wilds. Two months ago he was in South Africa. Before that–where?’
Virginia drew a sharp breath. For a moment the Frenchman’s eyes rested on her doubtfully. Then he went on:
‘Before that–where? None can say. And he is just such a one as the man I am looking for–gay, audacious, reckless, one who would dare anything. I send cable after cable, but I can get no word as to his past life. Ten years ago he was in Canada, yes, but since then–silence. My suspicions grow stronger. Then I pick up one day a scrap of paper where he has lately passed along. It bears an address–the address of a house in Dover. Later, as though by chance, I drop that same piece of paper. Out of the tail of my eye, I see this Boris, the Herzoslovakian, pick it up and take it to his master. All along I have been sure that this Boris is an emissary of the Comrades of the Red Hand. We know that the Comrades are working in with King Victor over this affair. If Boris recognized his chief in Mr Anthony Cade, would he not do just what he has done–transferred his allegiance? Why should he attach himself otherwise to an insignificant stranger? It was suspicious, I tell you, very suspicious.
‘But almost I am disarmed, for Anthony Cade brings this same paper to me at once and asks me if I have dropped it. As I say, almost I am disarmed–but not quite! For it may mean that he is innocent, or it may mean that he is very, very clever. I deny, of course, that it is mine or that I dropped it. But in the meantime I have set inquiries on foot. Only today I have news. The house at Dover has been precipitately abandoned, but up till yesterday afternoon it was occupied by a body of foreigners. Not a doubt but that it was King Victor’s headquarters. Now see the significance of these points. Yesterday afternoon, Mr Cade clears out from here precipitately. Ever since he dropped that paper, he must know that the game is up. He reaches Dover and immediately the gang is disbanded. What the next move will be, I do not know. What is quite certain is that Mr Anthony Cade will not return here. But knowing King Victor as I do, I am certain that he will not abandon the game without having one more try for the jewel. And that is when I shall get him!’
Virginia stood up suddenly. She walked across to the mantelpiece and spoke in a voice that rang cold like steel.
‘You are leaving one thing out of account, I think, M. Lemoine,’ she said. ‘Mr Cade is not the only guest who disappeared yesterday in a suspicious