larose was round at the castle within half an hour of penelope’s message that the coast was all clear and quickly engaged in a most earnest conversation with lord delamarne.

“i have been thinking, my lord,” he said, “that although we’ve finished with about the worst man at the baltic embassy you’re still not out of danger, and the sword will continue to hang over you. of course, the embassy people will be profoundly mystified with the disappearance of those two men, but it’s not likely to put them off coming after those jewels again. rather, i should say, they’ll be more certain than ever that they were right in their conjectures and that you’ve got them hidden here.”

“i’ve been thinking of that, too,” said lord delamarne, “and so am going to put everything into the care of my bank, of course under seal so that they won’t know what they are keeping for me.”

“but you can’t drop the embassy a postcard,” smiled larose, “telling them what you’ve done. you can’t broadcast your valuables are no longer here, and the stakes are so high that the baltic crowd certainly won’t let the matter drop.”

“but what can i do?” asked his lordship, looking very troubled. “i don’t see that i can do anything.”

“oh yes, you can,” said larose, “and i’ve thought of a good way of shaking them off, if you’re game enough to do it.” he spoke impressively. “you must have a fire down in those vaults and make out you’ve lost all your valuable silver collection. you must broadcast that the vaults have been gutted.”

his lordship frowned. “but that would mean i could never make any more use of the vaults,” he said.

“no, it wouldn’t,” said larose, “for you could confine the fire to exactly where you wanted it. there’s only all that dried woodwork which would burn, and the fire couldn’t spread up to the castle.”

“it certainly couldn’t do that,” agreed his lordship. “the ceiling of the vaults is all stonework and above that there must be nearly sixty feet of earth baked as hard as cement before you come to the floors of the castle itself.”

“but if you do it,” said larose, “you must make a thorough job of it and give out that the best part of your silver has gone. a great hullabaloo must be made, so that it gets plenty of publicity. well, you think over the idea and, if you approve of it, i’ll help you to carry it out.”

he turned the conversation and spoke very seriously. “now about the shooting of those two men and getting rid of the bodies in the way we have done — as far as i can see there is only one danger of discovery and that may possibly come”— he eyed his lordship intently —“from your nephew, young avon.”

“but he won’t say anything,” said his lordship instantly. “he’d be the last one to speak. you must have seen for yourself how dreadfully upset he was last night.”

“i did,” nodded larose, “and that i think is the danger. he’s got plenty of courage, but remember he’s only a boy and a very sensitive one at that. probably he’s never actually killed anyone before, and now to have taken two lives himself may prey upon his mind and make him become morbid. it’ll be continually in his thoughts and he’ll dwell and dwell on it and, perhaps one day in a remorseful mood, even blurt it out to some sympathetic stranger.”

“oh, i don’t think he’d ever do that,” said his lordship quickly. “he’s got sense enough to realise how terrible for us all the consequences would be.”

“but conscience is a strange thing, my lord,” said larose very solemnly, “and in some people may almost take on a condition of disease. then they become weak as water and take no thought of consequences. all they think of is to bring ease to their minds by confiding their troubles to someone.” he smiled. “however, with your nephew we can prevent all chance of that by altering his whole way of life for him and giving him something else to think of.” he spoke apologetically. “forgive my interference, my lord,” he hesitated just a moment, “but what about marrying him to that pretty secretary of yours?”

lord delamarne’s face was almost without expression, except that he was now staring hard at larose. the latter went on quickly, “overlook her not being in the same social class as she is, for she is a girl of fine character and, as we saw last night, of good courage too. she’d be just the very one, so to speak, to take possession of his mind and order his way of life for him.” he lowered his voice darkly. “besides, as his wife she could never be asked to give evidence against him. now what do you think about it?”

his lordship spoke almost casually. “i have already considered the matter, mr. larose,” he replied. his face broke into an amused smile. “with the result that i have decided they are to be married practically straight away. as you say, the boy needs looking after, and i agree with you that my secretary will be the one to do it properly.”

“good, very good, my lord,” exclaimed larose, his face all smiles. “are they interested in each other, do you know?”

“well, they’ve exchanged kisses in the conservatory,” said his lordship. “they didn’t know i saw them, but i did, and so we may assume they were not physically distasteful to each other. besides,” and he spoke dryly, “miss penelope smith is a young lady who will always love rather with her head than with her heart. so, if she’s not an ardent mistress to him, at least she’ll be a good mother.”

“but she’ll be more than that,” said larose. “he’s a good-looking young fellow and she’s nothing of a cold type of woman.” he laughed. “you see if they don’t supply you with a good line of heirs and heiresses in a very short time.” he spoke briskly. “now i’ve got the car key i took out of michaeloff’s pocket, so if you’ll lend me a bicycle i’ll go out and find the car. i’ll have to drive it a good way away, as it had better not be found anywhere near here.”

he went off to look for it and, rather to his lordship’s anxiety, did not return until the afternoon was far advanced. he was looking very pleased with himself. “i’ve made a real good job of it,” he smiled. “i found it easily enough in that little lane that turns off about a couple of hundred yards from the gates, and drove it a good twenty miles away where it now lies hidden under six or seven feet of water in a pool in a disused quarry off the fakenham–swaffham road. it may not be found for years and years.”

his lordship looked very relieved. “but what a long way to have taken it!” he exclaimed.

“yes, and the ride back on the bicycle,” said larose, “has made me pretty stiff, i can tell you.” he laughed happily. “but it was a pleasant ride for all that, as i was chuckling all the time thinking of the puzzle that blessed embassy’ll be in. no captain, no other blackguard, no crown jewels, and no car! what the devil will they imagine can have happened?” he nodded. “they may even be suspicious of that precious major, thinking perhaps that he’s double-crossed them and, bumping off the other two, vamoosed with jewels, car and everything.”

“you took off the number plates, of course?” asked lord delamarne.

“yes, and buried them a long way from the quarry,” said larose, “in a wood. also the number of the engine is filed off. so we’re all right there, too.”

lord delamarne began again to express his gratitude to larose, but the latter at once cut him short. “it’s all been a great pleasure to me,” he laughed, “an adventure upon which i shall always look back upon in happy remembrance. you know, they used to say at the yard that in reality i was as big a criminal as any i’d sent to the seven-foot drop.”

his lordship laughed back. “and i suppose that if everything were known they’d consider me a bad criminal, too.” he shrugged his shoulders. “but i’m quite a law-abiding old man if people only leave me alone.”

with larose having left the castle, lord delamarne went up to his nephew’s room. the boy’s ankle was very swollen, and it was evident he would have to lie up for several days. his uncle told him larose had hidden the bodies where they could never be found.

“so you can put the whole thing out of your mind,” he said, “and forget it as if it had never happened.” he went on a tone kinder, so the boy thought, than he had ever used to him before, “i’m very proud of you, chester. you played a man’s part last night and for reward i’m going to make you a very handsome present.”

chester got very red. “but it was really all due to penelope,” he said. “she arranged everything. she urged me on, and but for her”— he looked uncomfortable —“i confess i might never have dared to shoot them.” he brightened up. “so she deserves the reward more than anyone, sir.”

his lordship nodded. “i am most grateful to you both and she is going to share the reward with you. it is going to be a joint one.”

chester looked very puzzled. “and what will it be, sir?” he asked.

“a wedding breakfast,” smiled his lordship, “after you’ve become man and wife in the chapel here. you are to ask her to marry you.”

chester was furiously red now. “you — you wish me to ask her, sir?” he said stammeringly. he shook his head. “but i don’t think she’ll want to. she’s told me more than once that i’m not interesting enough for her to fall in love with.”

“well, you propose to her properly,” said his lordship, “and i’m sure it will be all right.” he smiled his old grim smile. “i think it was only me she was afraid of. she’s a good girl and would not like to cross my wishes in any way.”

he prepared to leave the room. “i’ll send her up to have a talk with you.”

he found penelope in the office typing some letters. “my nephew is asking for you, penelope,” he said. “so you’d better go up and see what he wants.” he patted her upon the shoulder. “i shall always call you penelope now, as you’re one of the family.”

penelope coloured up hotly. there was no mistaking the kindness of his words and her heart beat painfully.

“very well, my lord,” she said, steadying her voice with an effort. “but don’t forget you said these letters must be answered today. so i won’t be gone for long.”

however, it was nearly half an hour before she returned, and she stood before him a very flushed and nervous young woman.

“well, did he tell you what he wanted?” he asked slyly.

“but it is all your doing, my lord,” she choked. her eyes filled with tears. “and now that he says he is fond enough of me to want to marry me, i feel such a mean cheap thing, as i started to lead him on almost only as a sort of joke. i wasn’t the least bit in love with him.”

“but you like him, don’t you?” asked his lordship sharply.

“oh yes, very much,” she replied instantly, “and after last night”— she hesitated just a moment —“if it isn’t love i have for him, it’s a great tenderness. he relied so much upon me then that i feel he needs someone like me to take care of him.”

“tut, tut, then don’t doubt yourself any more,” said his lordship testily. “i know you’ll make him an excellent wife and i am very pleased you made him fond of you.” he patted her on the shoulder again. “you’re a good girl, penelope, and i don’t think you’re quite all the little schemer you want to make out you are.”

penelope heaved a big sigh, half in joke and half in earnest. “but, my lord,” she said as if very regretfully, “now i am an adventuress no longer.”

“and you’ve no need to be,” he smiled. “so you can just prepare yourself to settle down into the ordinary humdrum married life.” he shrugged his shoulders. “and if, at any rate, it is partly my doing, i am quite honest in saying that i have never done anything with more pleasure in all my life.” he pretended to frown. “now, please, miss smith, will you get on with these letters at once.”

in the next few ensuing weeks things moved very quickly in blackarden castle. with the speedy bricking up again of the broad way leading down to the vaults, the grisly secret that they held seemed to have passed altogether out of the minds of both penelope and chester avon and no longer troubled them.

to penelope, as the affianced wife of his heir and destined to carry on the blackarden line, the old lord was now according a great respect, not unmixed in his grim stern way with real affection. that he was most grateful to her she was well aware, though it was with considerable hesitation that she accepted from him a generous cheque to provide herself with a trousseau.

young avon was in the seventh heaven of happiness and with penelope regarding him with ever-mounting affection he blossomed out, even under his uncle’s stern unsmiling eyes, as a young man of spirit, very different from the one-time shy and timid boy. in due time the wedding was celebrated very quietly in the castle chapel where for six hundred years and more the lords of blackarden and their heirs had received the marriage sacrament, and they set off for a month’s honeymoon in devonshire and cornwall.

* * * * *

we must now go back to the day following on the night of those momentous happenings in the castle vaults, when mangan had returned to town in such an evil temper because, as he was imagining, captain michaeloff had left the bungalow by the sea without waiting for him.

all that evening he remained at home in his flat in fitzroy square, confidently expecting that the very least the captain would do was to give him a ring and inform him exactly what had happened the previous night in the vaults of blackarden castle. however, to his mounting anger no ring came and, having waited until nine o’clock, he rang up the embassy himself.

a girl answered the phone and said captain michaeloff was away from town and it was not known when he would return. asking who it was who was wanting him, mangan replied curtly, “mr. smith.” the following morning he rang up again. the same girl answered the phone and as before said that the captain was away. ringing yet again the afternoon, mangan received the same answer. that evening for the fourth time he rang up. “oh, it’s you, is it, mr. smith?” said the girl at once. “then i have a message for you. will you please call here to-night at nine o’clock,” and mangan replied sharply that he would.

by this time he had worked himself up into a state of fury at the offhand way in which he considered he was being treated. as he had received no information from the captain that the search for the jewels had been an unsuccessful one, he was taking it for granted that they had been found, and with no one ringing up to tell him that was so was of the opinion that the prospect of his getting his agreed share did not look at all rosy. quite likely, he told himself, having got all the help out of him that they had wanted, they were now intending, with some excuse, to freeze him out altogether and give him nothing.

he swore savagely. well, he would show them pretty quickly he was by no means the sort of man who could be treated like that!

so it was in the worst of humours that he arrived at the embassy at nine o’clock. declining curtly to give his name to the footman who answered the door, he just said he had an appointment with captain michaeloff.

“oh yes, sir,” said the footman at once. “will you please come this way,” and he was shown into a room different from that into which he had been accustomed to go when visiting captain michaeloff. there was no one in the room, but almost immediately a soldierly-looking man in evening clothes appeared and closed the door very carefully behind him. he bowed coldly to mangan, and did not offer to shake hands.

“major mangan?” he asked. “i am general volgorod,” and mangan knew he was in the presence of his excellency the ambassador.

a short silence followed, with the two men regarding each other intently. then the ambassador asked frowningly, “you’ve come with news of captain michaeloff?”

mangan scowled. he was by no means awed by the ambassador and as firm as ever in his resolve to stand no nonsense. “i’ve come,” he said sharply, “to know why he has not communicated with me. yesterday and today i rang up three times, to be told each time that he was not in town. then to-night, not an hour ago, i was given to understand he would see me if i came here at nine o’clock.”

the ambassador’s frown deepened. “but, but,” he said, equally as sharply, “it is from you i am expecting to receive the news of him. we have heard nothing since he left london five days ago. we are getting very anxious. we don’t know what can have happened to him.”

mangan was sure he was lying and that it was all part of the plan to put him off from his share of the jewels. “but, of course, you must have heard from him,” he said angrily. “those three nights ago i let him into blackarden castle and the following morning when i called round at the bungalow i saw that he and his car had gone.”

in his anxiety the ambassador ignored mangan’s rude and disrespectful manner. “then he can’t have gone back there at all,” he said earnestly. he threw out his hands. “this morning i sent one of my officers the long journey to that bungalow and he got back only a few minutes before you rang up to-night. he found the place shut up, as you tell me you did, but he got in through a window and saw that to all appearances no one had been in the place for some days. he says all the food was either stale or had gone bad, and all the cakes of soap in the rooms were hard and dry.” he looked very troubled. “now what has happened, major mangan? you must be able to tell us something.”

mangan did not make any reply. he stared harder than ever at the ambassador. the latter went on persuasively, “come, you can speak quite frankly, major mangan. of course, i know what they were looking for in the castle and the part you were going to play to help them. so you need keep nothing back.”

“i am not keeping anything back,” replied mangan in a surly tone. “i know nothing i can keep back.”

“but tell me,” went on the ambassador, “what happened after you had let, as you say, captain michaeloff and the man with him into the castle?”

the ambassador appeared to be so really troubled that for the moment mangan’s suspicions had in part died down.

“that’s what i want to know,” he said sharply. “i saw them safely into the castle and then, on the captain’s insistence, went back up into my room.”

“and you heard no disturbance during the night?” asked the ambassador. “well, what happened the next morning?”

“nothing happened,” said mangan. “everything was just the same as usual. i had my breakfast with one of lord delamarne’s daughter and his secretary, and evidently nothing was upsetting them. and it was the same today when i rang up the castle to know how lieutenant avon was, as he had sprained his ankle. the daughter answered the phone and she was as chatty and friendly as could be.”

the ambassador looked most perplexed. “then what has happened?” he asked. “two men and a car can’t disappear without leaving any trace.”

“of course, they can’t,” snapped mangan, whose suspicions for some reason were now beginning to come back. he eyed the ambassador intently. “you’ve approached the police, haven’t you, to tell them an embassy car is missing?”

“how could we?” asked the ambassador sharply, as if surprised at the question being put. “you know perfectly well that, under the peculiar circumstances, we dare not face any publicity and make any attempt to trace it?”

“and captain michaeloff at the wheel would be quite aware of that, wouldn’t he?” asked mangan dryly. “he would know there would be no danger of his being followed.” he spoke with a sneer that was only half veiled. “then has it never struck you, your excellency, that, having now obtained possession of those valuable jewels, the captain may possibly have gone off on an extended holiday to enjoy the proceeds of their sale for himself?”

the ambassador bristled in rage. “to anyone knowing captain michaeloff,” he snarled, “such an idea would occur only to the man of a treacherous mind himself.” he glared angrily at mangan. “captain michaeloff was the soul of honour, sir, and one of the most trusted officers we have.”

mangan shrugged his shoulders. “well, the whole business seems devilish suspicious to me and i tell you that straight. it looks uncommonly like an excuse to avoid paying me the share i was promised.”

the ambassador’s face went black as thunder, but his only answer was to push viciously on the bell and, the footman appearing, he said quietly, “show this gentleman out,” and mangan took his departure with an ironical bow.

the now very worried ambassador at once summoned the attache who was next to captain michaeloff in importance at the embassy, and related to him everything that had taken place.

“but i wouldn’t trust that fellow a yard,” he said gloomily. “i am sure he was telling me a whole tissue of lies and it makes things look very black for michaeloff and joseph. i believe he betrayed everything to lord delamarne, and they took them by surprise and did away with them somehow.” his voice shook. “we shall find they have disappeared just like that other poor fellow did. we shall hear nothing of them again.”

“but their bodies must be hidden somewhere,” said the attache doubtfully.

“yes, but if they’re not buried in those vaults,” said the ambassador with a deep sigh, “how easy to have weighted them and buried them out to sea at night. remember how resourceful that major was when he was fighting with the patriots in france. we know he wouldn’t hesitate at anything and don’t forget the sea is not far away from blackarden castle.”

“well, we can always give him a taste of his own medicine,” said the attache savagely. “it’s a poor consolation, i know, but he certainly mustn’t be allowed to go off unpunished. remember we know a great deal more about him and his way of life than he can dream of, and we can easily catch him alone somewhere where the whole thing will be quite safe. the captain was very thorough in finding out everything possible about him before we asked him to help us. so just say the word and i’ll put boehm on to him at once.”

“but we’ll wait a little while,” said the ambassador, “on the chance, the very slender one i am afraid, that some news may yet come in.” he passed his hand over his forehead. “this has been a terrible shock.”

and if his excellency had received one shock, he was speedily going to receive another, as the following morning the newspapers were all featuring a devastating fire which had occurred in blackarden castle.

“historic seven-hundred-year old castle in danger”

ran the headlines,

“the vaults and underground parts of blackarden castle gutted by fire.”

“lord delamarne loses his priceless collection of old silver.”

it appeared that the previous afternoon dense clouds of black smoke had suddenly been seen issuing from the castle chimneys and, with no accounting for them from any fire within the habited part of the castle, it was at once realised that the conflagration must be coming from the underground vaults, the broad stairway down to which had been bricked off nearly a hundred years ago, leaving only a narrow, and to most people an unknown and secret one, leading up into lord delamarne’s study.

“the fire brigade from norwich was soon upon the scene,” went on one of the papers, “and the brick wall forbidding access to the dungeons was at once battered down to get at the flames below where a great quantity of very dry woodwork was burning furiously. happily, the conflagration being so far below, it could not travel up to the castle itself and was quickly mastered. however, it is understood that lord delamarne has lost all his valuable collection of old silver, which for safety had been stored in a room he had fitted up for himself among the vaults. it is believed the fire originated in a fault in the electric light system his lordship had recently installed.”

“and that means, too,” sighed the baltic ambassador, “that the crown jewels have gone for ever. what a calamity, as there must have been millions of pounds worth still there!”

of course, mangan had read all about the fire, and he thought it gave him a splendid excuse for motoring down to the castle at the week-end, not only to sympathise with his lordship, but to see how young avon was getting on, as well. he was hoping, too, that he might be able to determine from lord delamarne’s manner if any great calamity, such as the loss of the crown jewels, had happened to him. he thought, also, that a little tactful pumping of the pretty secretary might tell him something. undoubtedly, she would be more or less in his lordship’s confidence.

joan answered the phone and had just started to tell him about the fire when she broke off suddenly and said, “but miss smith is here and she says she has something very important to say to you.”

penelope spoke in a business-like and matter of fact way, at once cutting short his starting to speak about the fire. “never mind about that,” she said sharply. “i want to speak to you about something else, and i should have rung you up today if you hadn’t come on the phone now.” her tone of voice was most decisive. “i have to tell you, major mangan, that i have become engaged to mr. avon and, as his future wife, it is my wish that the friendship between him and you should cease at once.”

mangan could not believe his cars. “what, what did you say?” he asked, with his eyes screwed up in his perplexity.

“you heard quite well,” returned penelope coldly. “it is my wish and lord delamarne’s as well, he bids me expressly to tell you so, that you should hold no more communications with any of us, no phoning, no writing and no more visiting here. i can’t put it plainer than that.”

mangan’s voice was harsh in his fury and amazement. “but i demand some explanation,” he began, “and ——”

penelope interrupted calmly. “the only explanation i shall give you,” she said, “is that before coming here i was a journalist for some years and learnt enough about your way of living then to be quite sure your continued friendship with mr. avon is not to his best interests. good morning, major mangan,” and the telephone went dead.

mangan’s mouth was very dry and his face was black in anger. never had he been so insulted before! what did it really mean, too? had they come to learn anything of the part he had played that night at the castle, or had they heard anything of the accusations the police had brought against him in connection with professor glenowen’s death? no, he didn’t think he need consider either of those contingencies. it was probably only that the little —— he called her a bad word, having been successful in trapping that weak young fool, avon, into a promise of marriage, was jealous of his, mangan’s, influence over him, and so had poisoned the old lord’s mind with some bits of scandal which, as a journalist, she had picked up about the money he was supposed to have won at cards. yes, that was what it was! it was humiliating as well as annoying, but for the moment he could think of no practical way of venting his spite upon them.

so, as far as possible he put it all out of his mind, as he had plenty of other things to worry him. trade had been bad in the art world and, knowing the police were now watching every step he took there, he had had to give up, at any rate for the time being, the most lucrative side of his business. he dared no longer to act as a fence, and had reluctantly refused many what would have been very profitable purchases. added to that, he had been losing heavily at the races. upon one wretched animal alone he had dropped over a thousand pounds. altogether, things were in a bad way with him and, to keep his head above water, he saw he must soon dip into some of that money he had buried in his shack on canvey island. the idea of doing that frightened him, as he had not dared to go near the place since the morning he had placed the money he had taken from the professor’s safe there. he was always so fearful that the police had devised some subtle way of trailing him, exactly as they had once succeeded in following him to his flat.

in the meanwhile, if the police might have lost some of their interest in his doings, those at the baltic embassy had certainly not. ten days having now passed with no news of their two missing men, they were regarding with sinister significance that mangan had made no further enquiries at the embassy as to whether they had heard anything more of them.

“there is no need for him to enquire,” scoffed the ambassador to the second attache who had now stepped into captain michaeloff’s place. “he knows what’s happened to them and, no doubt by now, has been well rewarded for his treachery. with his record as a killer to be hired well known to us, we were foolish to have trusted him. yes, we’ll put boehm on to him at once, but we must be sure to find some place where he can be dealt with so that it’ll look as if robbery were the only motive for what has happened.”

and, in their judgment, the ideal place was found when it was learnt that mangan had a bungalow upon canvey island, at certain unseasonable times as lonely a place as any assassin could wish for, and occasionally went down there at weekends. the knowledge came to them in this way.

when those at the baltic embassy became interested in anyone, either in a friendly or unfriendly way, it was their custom to find out everything they could about him and tabulate it for future reference. nothing was too insignificant to put down, the man’s friends and acquaintances, his habits and likes and dislikes, his recreations, and even matters of slight interest that he might have dropped in the course of conversation.

so, when upon one occasion michaeloff and mangan had been talking together, the latter had happened to mention that his watch had taken to stopping every now and then because one week sand must have got into it when he had forgotten it and left it on canvey island, the captain had put down in the memorandum that mangan had got a bungalow there to which he went occasionally upon saturdays and sundays. the information was added that he used to spear eels in the dykes about the island and that he had stated the only drawback to his enjoyment was that his bungalow was so close to the high sea-wall surrounding the island that nothing could be seen from its windows of the ships passing up and down the estuary. still, the compensation was that it was very near to a hotel where a drink or good meal could be obtained should he want either of them. the captain had put down, too, that, with mangan’s reputation as a dealer in stolen goods, it was not improbable that in that bungalow he might, from time to time, hide things that he did not want the police to know anything about.

all this information, gone carefully through, was passed on to one of the many secret agents of the embassy, a one-time follower of the sea, called boehm, and to him was given the task of dealing with mangan. boehm was a wirey and ferrety-looking little fellow of slight physique to whom violence and even murder were of small account. an adept at throwing the knife and the use of the pistol, in his own country he had many kills to his credit. life was held cheaply where he came from and, when well-paid, he was a very reliable man, stalking his prey with all the patience and cunning of a beast of the wilds.

the second attache had seen mangan upon more than one occasion when the latter had been visiting the captain at the embassy, and now gave boehm a thorough description of what he was like. not only that, but he produced a photograph of the major, which after a long and patient search had been found in one of the weekly illustrated magazines. it had been taken about a year previously at a reunion of some of the commandos who had taken part in the raid upon dieppe. the attache expressly warned boehm that a kill was all that was wanted from him, and then he was to get away from wherever he had satisfactorily dealt with mangan as speedily and secretly as possible.

told to expect to come upon mangan on the island, most probably only at week-ends, boehm started off one saturday morning upon his quest, taking the train to benfleet, the nearest railway station. he had brought his bicycle with him, but was intending to leave it in the station cloak-room every sunday evening when, if unsuccessful, he would return to town to wait for the next week-end. his orders were not to put up anywhere on the island for the saturday night, but to get a bed somewhere in the surrounding district, at a different place, however, every time. he had been told the waiting might be a long business, perhaps running into several weeks, but he would certainly come upon mangan in the end. in the light of what might follow later, he was not to enquire about mangan anywhere by his name.

boehm was a shrewd little man and soon came to the conclusion that it was a shack and not a bungalow that the major owned, as there were no bungalows under the sea-wall itself adjacent to the only hotel which was situated upon the high sea-wall itself. however, there were twenty and more shacks which in every way answered to the description that had been given him, so far below the level of the sea-wall that no ships passing by could be seen from their windows and within two or three minutes walk of the hotel. so, to these shacks he intended to give all his attention. they were all of the same appearance, cheaply built, two-room affairs and, from what he could see through some uncurtained windows, with their flooring made up of loose boards. each of them stood in its own little bit of ground, with a low fence round it and a few square yards of grass in front.

starting upon his watching, he took up a position on the sea side of the wall, with his head just above the level of the top, so that he could look over, without attracting too much attention from anybody who passed by on the road below. it being winter-time, however, very few people went by, and with the first week-end he spent there, he realised his job was going to be as monotonous a one as possibly could be. still, it never entered into his mind not to carry it through, and the only relaxation he would allow himself was on the saturday evening at six o’clock and the sunday morning at one when he went up to the hotel and treated himself to two glasses of beer.

two, three, four, five week-ends passed without anything to interest him, but then upon the sixth, though he was never to become aware of it, a most momentous happening for him occurred.

he was brought in contact with the so-well known one-time detective, gilbert larose.

two days previously larose had received a letter from his wife’s cousin in berkeley square.

my dear gilbert,

i have two interesting things to tell you. the first, that little friend of yours, emma hobson, is going to be married to the very nice detective, geoffrey hilliard. they are very much in love with each other and i am sure will always bless the day when you brought them together. i have given her ￡50 for a wedding present and you are going to give her a like sum. she is going to be married from here in three weeks time. the second thing, emma has just remembered that, when that beastly major was having dinner that night with the late greatly lamented professor glenowen, she heard him say how much he enjoyed a sunday’s eel-spearing in the muddy dykes round canvey island. i thought that piece of information might turn out to be of some use to you.

hoping you are behaving yourself,

your affectionate cousin-in-law,

hettie.”

larose was greatly interested in the letter and his lively imagination began to work at once. canvey island! hundreds and hundreds of little bungalows and shacks all crowded together there, but any one of them which could be as isolated and lonely as if planted down in the middle of the sahara desert! why, if as the police had for some time now been surmising, mangan was indeed a dealer in stolen goods, it would be an ideal place in which to hide things away until he could dispose of them in safety! then, of course, too, he might be keeping there the large sums of money which the professor had paid him, as well as the stolen corot painting! oh, what possibilities the idea opened up, and was it not strengthened by what tom pike, the garage man, had told him of his surmises that mangan often motored somewhere down the thames estuary way upon fine sundays?

accordingly, most sanguine that his reasoning was sound, larose had come down to canvey island upon that saturday morning in happy expectation that he would almost certainly hear something about mangan. of course, he was quite aware that at that time of the year the island would be practically deserted by visiting holiday makers, but he was thinking that among the permanent residents, the shop-keepers and tradesmen, he would certainly find someone who would recognise mangan by the photograph which had been taken of him that day when he was being questioned at scotland yard.

he was quite prepared to find that no one knew the major by name. it might be there had been no occasion for mangan to have mentioned it. then, too, if his bungalow or shack, whichever it might be, was being used as a hiding place, if he ever had to give a name, it certainly would not have been his correct one. he was of much too cunning a nature for that.

larose had motored down from town, but, not wishing to attract attention, he had left his car in a garage close by in benfleet and crossed to the island on foot. to give himself plenty of time for his enquiries, he was intending to put up for the night at the hotel on the sea-wall and not return to town until the sunday evening.

beginning his enquiries in a most hopeful frame of mind, he nevertheless realised almost at once that he was going to be greatly disappointed. he got no encouragement at all. no one recognised the photograph, no one remembered anyone like it, no garage had serviced, as far as could be recollected, the car of such a man and no milkman had sold him milk.

in effect, no one knew anything about him, and larose had drawn a complete blank.

tramping all over the island, with dusk beginning to fall larose felt almost inclined to laugh at his non-success. it was in every way so thorough and such a knock-down blow to his cocksureness that he had been so clever in his surmises. indeed, but the aching of his legs from his long tramp, he would have gone back to town that same night. however, he did not fancy the walk to benfleet to pick up his car, and so turned into the hotel for dinner and a good night’s rest. the meal was plain, but nicely cooked, and he grinned sheepishly when he was served with a good helping of stewed eels. they rubbed in his lack of success.

revived by his meal, afterwards he sat in the comfortable lounge-bar and watched the lights of the ships going by. it was high tide and situated as the bar was it seemed little above the level of the water.

with, what he estimated, the greater than a million to one chance that he would run into mangan himself, larose had not come made-up, or altered his appearance in any way. still, wearing a black leather motoring coat buttoned up to his chin and with dark glasses, he was confident no one would recognise him unless it happened he was being particularly looked for.

the bar had quite a number of patrons and he watched their coming and going without much interest until a man whom he was sure he had met somewhere before, came in. it was boehm of the baltic embassy, and larose, always prided himself that he never forgot a face, after a number of furtive glances in his direction, was most annoyed that he could not now place him. yet, it should have been quite easy, he told himself vexatiously, as the man’s appearance was an unusual one, with a dark and narrow face and with eyes which would remind anyone of those of a ferret.

as with himself, the man was evidendy a stranger to the others in the bar, with him passing the time of day to no one and no one taking any notice of him. smoking cigarette after cigarette, he seemed mainly interested in watching the shipping through the windows, though larose soon came to notice that, when the bar door opened, he always turned to have a quick look to see who had come in.

the man had two glasses of beer, but he was so slow in drinking them that they lasted until nearly closing time, when with no good-night to anyone he got up and went out. a few minutes later, when all who were not staying in the hotel had gone away, too, larose remarked casually to the barman, “curious-looking fellow, that little dark chap! i’m sure i’ve seen him before. who is he, do you know?”

“no, i don’t sir,” replied the barman, “and no one else round here does, either. he’s been dropping in for a drink now for quite a fair number of week-ends, but except on saturdays and sundays we never see anything of him. he’s a bit of a mystery to us. he never says a word to anyone.”

“then doesn’t he live about here?” asked larose.

“no, sir, and no one knows where he does live, but it’s certainly not on the island. he’s got a bicycle and goes back over the bridge every blessed saturday and sunday night, but where he sleeps no one has any idea.”

“but what does he do for a living?” asked larose.

the barman looked amused. “he never seems to do anything. we think he’s not quite right in his head. he turns up here on his bike regular every saturday morning about ten, rides about a bit and then goes and sits upon the seawall a few hundred yards or so from here and keeps his eyes on everything that’s going on. we think he must be watching for someone. he’s got a pair of glasses and uses them a lot. one night when he came in the bar here he forgot the glasses and left them where he had been sitting. before he remembered and rushed back to get them, we all had a look at them and a gent here said they were good ‘uns and worth forty or fifty quid. just fancy a chap like him with glasses worth all that money. it’s damned funny to me.”

larose thought it was funny, too, and, thinking about it and the man himself kept him from dropping off to sleep for a long while. however, finally he slept soundly and awakened with a start when he heard the gong going for breakfast. he gave another start and a much bigger one this time when, jumping out of bed, it came to him in a sudden flash where he had seen the man with the ferret’s eyes before.

it had been at the baltic embassy!

during the great war, on secret service together, he and captain michaeloff had been on quite friendly terms. they had met many times and larose had often been to the embassy. upon his arrival there one evening, he had seen the captain talking to a man in the hall and had thought the fellow to be of such a rodent-like appearance that later he had remarked laughingly about it. whereupon the captain had told him the man was one of their best trusted secret service agents and had carried out many dangerous jobs for them. he had added with a smile, “and i should say his fondness for using the pistol is even greater than yours.”

now larose was stirred to tremendous interest by his sudden discovery. “whew,” he whistled, “one of the crack baltic agents! then of course he’s on some dirty business now! he’s watching for someone whom he knows will come along if he waits long enough for him.”

he hurried over his breakfast, so that he could go and look at the place where the barman had told him the man took up his position to watch. it was quite early as yet, and he reckoned he had a good half hour before he would arrive.

he located the spot easily enough by the large number of cigarette butts scattered about, and peered curiously over the top of the sea-wall to make out exactly what the watcher would be able to see. for one thing, he could mark every yard of the road which led to the bridge crossing the creek near benfleet railway station and, for another, have a close-up view of the long row of small shacks which stretched in an unbroken line just across the road below, running parallel to the sea-wall. at the present time all these shacks appeared to be untenanted, which was not to be wondered at, he thought, as they would be bitterly cold in the winter months.

moving a couple of hundred yards or so away, he took up a position where he would not be seen by the man and waited for him to arrive. he soon appeared upon his bicycle and, laying the machine down in the tall grass behind one of the shacks, climbed up over the sea-wall and started upon his usual watch. half an hour of it, however, was quite enough for larose and, chancing he would miss nothing, he went for a brisk walk, returning only in time for lunch at the hotel.

after that he took no more interest in the man until the afternoon began to wane. then he started to walk back to benfleet and pick up his car. he timed his pace so that he should have just crossed the bridge when darkness came. he wanted to find out in which direction the man would go when he had quitted the island, and he had no difficulty there. rather as he had expected, the man turned into the railway station and, a minute later, was waiting upon the platform for the up-train, the smoke of which could now be seen in the distance. he had left his bicycle in the station cloak-room.

after the departure of the train larose strolled into the station, ostensibly to obtain the correct time, but he asked casually of a porter standing by who the man was who had just ridden in on a bicycle. “i often see him,” he said, “and wonder who he is.” the porter did not know, but supplied the information that he left his machine with them every sunday evening and picked it up again on the following saturday morning. “he comes from town,” he added, “with a week-end excursion ticket.”

in the week which followed larose’s thoughts were full of the ferrety-eyed man, for with his ever lively imagination some glimmering of what was the real truth was starting to take possession of his mind. what a coincidence it would be he told himself, if he and the baltic embassy were now trying to trail the same individual, he, however, wanting only to get hold of what the man had hidden away, while they, probably, were out for a bloody and murderous revenge!

of course that would mean that the baltic crowd had fallen out with mangan because they were now considering he had done them some ill turn. in that case, of all races they would be the most dangerous, as recent events had shewn their civilisation to be only skin deep, with murder and assassination the natural return for anyone who had happened to cross their path.

it might be, his thoughts ran on, that any such falling out seemed highly improbable, but on the other hand how was the embassy to imagine any explanation of the so-mysterious disappearance of captain michaeloff and his companion without bringing mangan into the picture. they may have argued that, having been in such close touch with them that night in the castle, he must know something of what happened to them therefore, by denying that he knew anything, it could only mean lies and treachery upon his part. they would be realising that to thwart them as thoroughly and completely as had been done suggested a lot of planning on someone’s part, and they might be imagining it could not have been carried out with such overwhelming success without mangan’s aid.

however, larose gave up speculating, with the only certain conclusion he had arrived at being that if it were indeed mangan for whom the ferrety-eyed was now waiting, then the embassy must be in possession of more information than he, larose, had. they must be certain mangan had a shack upon canvey island and, moreover, had a good idea about where it was situated.

the following saturday morning he was again upon the island and had early taken up a position from where at a distance he would be able to watch everything that was going on. if nothing however, happened during the day, he told himself it would be the last time he himself would bother anyone. he would pass the whole thing on to scotland yard and leave it to them to do what they thought best.

in due time the man appeared as usual and the day began to pass away exactly as it had done the previous saturday, except for the weather being now much more unpleasant. misty conditions and a fine drizzling rain having set in, larose cuddled himself despondently in his mackintosh and wished he was anywhere but where he now was. back in his position after a good lunch at the hotel, he soon began to feel very sleepy. leaning back under a high breakwater on the river side of the sea-wall and sheltered from the rain, he had difficulty in keeping his eyes open. finally, he got tired of blinking them at the man in the distance, and dropped off altogether into a comfortable little sleep.

afterwards he realised he must have slept for a full hour and longer before, happily always a light sleeper, he was awakened suddenly by the faint crash of breaking glass, followed almost instantly, one after another, by two sharp sounds as if someone were cracking a whip.

at any rate, that was what he thought when for a few brief seconds his brain was still sodden from sleep. then, as in a flash of lightning, he realised they were reports of a pistol he had heard, and he sprang wide-awake to his feet to see that the man he had been watching was no longer in his accustomed place.

he ran quickly forward to where the man had been, but he was not anywhere in sight and the road running between the sea-wall and the line of shacks was quite deserted. indeed, not a soul was to be seen anywhere. the air was mistier than ever and visibility was very bad.

for a few moments he stood hesitating and then, a bare fifty yards away, the man he was looking for came into sight wheeling his bicycle out from behind one of the shacks. reaching the road, he mounted his machine and rode quickly away. he had not turned round and so had not seen larose watching him.

“god,” exclaimed larose hoarsely, “then he has got his man! he has murdered somebody,” and, without waiting a second and mindful of the crash of breaking glass that he heard, larose ran quickly down the sea-wall to find a shack with a broken window.

it was close near and he came upon it almost at once. darting up the short path, he saw there were spots of blood upon the sill below the broken window. stopping dead in his tracks, his eyes roved round and he saw there was blood also upon the ground, directly underneath the handle of the closed door only a few feet away. moving quickly over to the door, he turned the handle gingerly and, throwing the door wide open, peered into the shack.

a body was lying upon the floor, with its head turned sideways in a pool of blood and, with an instant’s glance, he saw it was that of leon mangan. the blood had only just ceased welling from a bullet hole in the forehead. from the disturbed state of the dead man’s jacket it looked as if the breast pocket had been rifled. otherwise, it did not appear as if anything in the shack had been interfered with.

larose drew in a deep breath and the beatings of his heart calmed down. with just another quick backward glance at the body, he left the shack and pulled the door to, as before, touching the handle as lightly as possible. looking round in every direction, again there was not a soul in sight and, at a quick pace, he set off towards railway station.

he was in no anxiety that the murderer would not be picked up speedily and be within the cells in a very few hours. when about half a mile from the railway station, he heard the whistle of a train coming from the direction of southend.

“an up-train!” he exclaimed. “good, then they’ll catch him as he comes off the train at fenchurch street. he’ll be quite unsuspicious and will not have time to put up any fight.”

reaching the railway station at benfleet, he walked in to speak to the station-master. “i’m police,” he announced laconically. “now, a man with a bicycle got on that train, didn’t he?”

“yes,” replied the station-master, “a smallish, dark fellow. he’d got a return-half to fenchurch street.”

“that’s the man,” nodded larose. “and he took his bicycle with him? then, what’s the number of its ticket? now at what time does that train get to fenchurch street?”

“five twenty-two if it’s punctual.”

larose impressed upon the station-master the importance of strict silence, and proceeded to the garage where he had left his car. he put through a trunk-call to inspector stone’s private number at scotland yard. stone was off-duty, but to larose’s great relief the youthful inspector mendel came to the phone.

“it’s gilbert larose speaking,” said larose. “oh, you recognise my voice, do you? of course you do! you don’t often hear such a nice one! now, you listen most carefully. i’m speaking from hull’s garage in benfleet, close to the bridge crossing on to canvey island. no one as yet knows what i am going to tell you. i mean, i haven’t communicated with the local police.” he spoke slowly and impressively. “that major leon mangan was murdered in a shack upon the island a little over half an hour ago. his killer is on the train from here which reaches fenchurch street at five twenty-two, five twenty-two. got that all right? you can’t mistake him. he’s a small and dark man, with a narrow face and eyes set close together. he’s an agent of the baltic embassy. he’s got a cut, which was bleeding half an hour ago, on one of his fingers. you’ll probably find the dead man’s wallet on him. also, he has a bicycle in the guard’s van. ticket number two four six. he thinks no one saw him and won’t be suspicious. still, he’s carrying a gun and will draw on the instant. he’s of a desperate class of men. now have you got everything? repeat it all to me.”

inspector mendel repeated everything in a voice which, with all his usual self-control, was hoarse in emotion.

larose went on, “rout out inspector stone and come down here with him at once. you will see my car standing outside this garage. i shall be waiting for you. oh, you must put on the best man you’ve got to make the arrest. whom will you send?”

“inspector harker,” replied mendel. “you couldn’t have a better man.”

“all right,” said larose. “i know him. get him to ring me up directly he’s got the man. this is the number. i shall be waiting here and very anxious to know that it’s gone off all right. you and inspector stone should be here by six.”

as can be well imagined, there passed a very worried time waiting for the news to come of the arrest of the murderer, but it came through even earlier than he had dared to hope, just after half past five.

“got him all right,” came the gleeful voice of inspector harker, “all complete and true to label, ferret’s eyes, cut finger, wallet, and bicycle in the guard’s van. but by jove, as you warned, he was quick with his gun! i think he must have recognised one of us, because he started to draw as he was getting out of the carriage, but we’d grabbed him before he could get his gun out. yes, sir, nothing could have gone better.”

hardly had larose come away from the phone when two police cars drew up at the garage. inspector stone was there and for a moment the gravity dropped from his face. “gilbert again!” he laughed. “the naughty boy working all on his own!”

he changed into larose’s car to drive over to the island, and as they went along larose told him quickly everything that had happened. “but, charlie,” he said earnestly, “for heaven’s sake leave me out of it. if those devils at the embassy ever come to learn that i had a hand in it, i’ll be the next one to go.”

“you’re quite right, my boy,” nodded stone, “and i promise you your name shall not come out.” he chuckled. “we’ll let the public imagine we’ve been working like beavers all these weeks and just biding our time.” he turned to stare at larose. “but why the devil did he come down here on a wretched rainy day like this?”

“the very kind of weather he’d prefer,” said larose, “when he would hope there would be no people about. as to why he came at all —” he shrugged his shoulders, “— who knows? perhaps, if he’s been hiding all that money here, he came to get hold of some of it. young avon heard the other day in town that he’s been losing a tremendous lot at the races lately. that would account for his taking the risk.”

“and he came on foot, you say?” commented stone.

“yes, but you’ll probably find that he’s left his car somewhere in benfleet. what i think happened was that this embassy fellow saw him sneak into his shack and close the door after him. so, in case anyone should be coming along and get the business over as quickly as possible, he broke the glass and shot him through the window. he was cycling off again in a couple of minutes.”

arriving at the shack, for a few moments they stood in silence over the dead man. “two bullets,” said stone softly, “and either one would have killed him.” he looked round the shack. “and, if i’m not very much mistaken, under these floor-boards we shall find all we’ve been wanting for so long.” he eyed larose intently. “but why do you think they killed him?”

“evidently they thought he knew too much,” replied larose evasively, “and so they did to him what they probably often do to those whom they imagine have become dangerous to them. for all we know, as you once suggested, perhaps the embassy, glenowen and mangan were all working together.” he looked at his watch. “well, i’d better clear off now, but if you find anything here you might ring me up this evening at the semiris and tell me all about it,” and stone promised he would.

the stout inspector was even better than his promise, for about ten o’clock he turned up in person at the hotel. he was looking very pleased with everything.

“the corot painting,” he exclaimed smilingly, “￡5 notes that will take half a day to count and about a hundred pages of manuscript, the precious diary which the mad old professor had written up.” he accepted the double whisky larose had had brought to him. “a very happy ending, gilbert, my boy, except that we shan’t see mangan in the dock,” and larose agreed with him there.

a week after mangan’s murder and the so speedy arrest of his murderer, larose came to the castle to tell lord delamarne everything that had happened up to date.

“the man makes no attempt to deny his guilt,” he said, “but declares he was acting entirely upon his own, with robbery the only motive. of course the baltic embassy pretends to be terribly shocked that anyone ever associated with them should have committed such a dreadful crime. in a roundabout way they are showing a lot of curiosity as to how he came to be caught so soon.” he grinned. “but i am happy to say this curiosity of theirs is not going to be satisfied, or i should now be shaking in my shoes. they are a bloody-minded lot and, we can surmise, would go to any lengths to get their revenge.”

“but what about those memoirs of glenowen, which the police found in the shack?” asked his lordship. “will they be made public?”

larose shook his head. “no, and even their existence is not going to be allowed to come out.” he shrugged his shoulders. “what would be the good? they prove conclusively that glenowen had been spying for the baltic embassy ever since the ending of the war and, also, that those there were quite aware, at any rate in the end, that mangan had committed all those so-called atom murders. still from what the professor actually wrote down, and we must remember his memoirs were uncompleted, it is left doubtful if the baltic people were coinstigators with him from the very beginning.”

when larose had left the castle lord delamarne took out of his desk a letter he had received from penelope only that same morning, and reread it for the third time. it was bright and chatty, and written from a hotel in torquay. after saying what a lovely time they were having and how very happy they both were, penelope went on:

“lord and lady brennington are staying in this hotel, too, and both ask to be very kindly remembered to you. for some reason her ladyship has taken a great fancy to us and will insist that we are to go next week upon a few days visit to their place, brennington towers, near ashburton. really, i am not very keen about it, but chester is most anxious to go because she has promised him some good fox-hunting and so i have agreed to go. i like her ladyship well enough, except for her being such a dreadful snob. she is always sneering at those she calls ‘the common people,’ moaning how different we, our class, are from them. on the quiet, as i am sure you can understand, i am most amused about it, wondering what on earth she would say if she only knew whom my father had been. i believe she would be so furious that i almost think she would want to drive me from her door with a whip.”

lord delamarne tore the letter into little pieces.

he was smiling to himself.