Detective White & Furneaux: 5 Novels in One Volume. Louis Tracy
laughed.
"It's all right," he said. "Suarez is in Holloway, awaiting extradition. But I owed you one for the rise you took out of me to-day."
A bell sounded, and Peters came in. He glanced around.
"Where's Furneaux?" he demanded.
"Gone to London. Why this keen interest?" said Winter.
"There's something up. Elkin dropped in at the Hare and Hounds. He was simply bursting with curiosity, and had to talk to somebody. So he chose me."
"He would," was the dry comment.
"Fact, 'pon me honor. I didn't lead him on an inch. It seems that Furneaux bought some prints which caught his eye in Elkin's house, and Tomlin says that that hexplains hit."
"Explains what?"
"Furneaux's visit to Siddle, and certain bulky parcels brought in and brought out again."
"Queer little duck, Furneaux," said Hart. "Now that my mind is at ease about the immediate future of the biggest rascal in Venezuela I can take an active part in Steynholme affairs once more. When it's all through I'll make a novel of it, dashed if I don't, with the postmaster's daughter in the three-color process as a frontispiece."
"But who will be the villain?" said Peters.
Hart waved the negro-head pipe at the other three.
"Draw lots. I am indifferent," he said.
CHAPTER XVII
An Official Housebreaker
No word bearing on the main topic in these men's minds was said during dinner. Grant was attentive to his guests, but markedly silent, almost distrait. Two such talkers as Hart and Peters, however, covered any gaps in this respect. Cigars and pipes were in evidence, and, horrible though it may sound in the ears of a gourmet, the port was circulating, when Winter turned and gazed at the small window.
"Is that where the ghost appears!" he inquired.
"Yes," said Grant. "You know the whole story, of course?"
"Furneaux misses nothing, I assure you."
"He missed a daylight apparition this afternoon, at any rate. I have no secrets from my friends, so I may as well tell you—"
"That Siddle called, and implored you to consider Doris Martin's future by avoiding her at present," put in the Chief Inspector.
Such shocks were losing some of their effect, on the principle that a man hears the burst of the thousandth high-explosive shell with a good deal less trepidation than attended the efforts of the first dozen. Still, Grant gazed at the speaker in profound astonishment.
"You Scotland Yard men seem to know everything," he said.
"A mere pretense. Try him on sheep-raising in the Argentine, Jack," murmured Hart.
"Wally, this business is developing a very serious side," protested Grant. Hart stretched a long arm for the port decanter.
"Come, friend!" he addressed it gravely. "Let us commune! You and I together shall mingle joyous memories of
"A draught of the Warm South,
The true, the blushful Hippocrene."
"We read Siddle's visit aright, it would appear," said Winter quietly.
"Yes. That was his mission, put in a nutshell."
"And what did you say?"
"I told him that, after Wednesday, I would ask Doris Martin to marry me, which is the best answer I can give him and all the world."
"Why 'after Wednesday'?"
"Because I shall know then the full extent of the annoyance which Ingerman can inflict."
"Did you give Siddle that reason?"
"Yes."
Winter frowned.
"You literary gentlemen are all alike," he said vexedly. "You become such adepts in analyzing human duplicity in your books that you never dream of trying to be wise as a serpent in your own affairs. The author who will split legal hairs by way of brightening his work will sign a contract with a publisher that draws tears from his lawyer when a dispute arises. Why be so candid with a rank outsider, like Siddle?"
"I distrust the man. Doris distrusts him, too."
"So you take him into your confidence."
"No. I merely give him chapter and verse to prove that his interference is useless."
"Have you engaged a lawyer for Wednesday"
"No. Why should I? My hands are clean."
"But your clothes may suffer if enough mud is slung at you. Wire to this man in the morning, and mention my name—Winter, of course, not Franklin."
"Codlin's your friend, not Short," said Hart. "Sorry. It's a time-worn jape, but it fitted in admirably."
The detective scribbled a name and address on a card.
"I don't think you need worry about Ingerman," he went on, "though it's well to be prepared. A smart solicitor can stop irrelevant statements, especially if ready for them. But there must be no more of this heart-opening to all and sundry, Mr. Grant. Siddle is your rival. He, too, wants to marry Miss Martin, and regards you now as the only stumbling-block."
"Siddle! That stick!" gasped Grant.
"Ridiculous, indeed monstrous," agreed Winter, rather heatedly, "but nevertheless a candidate for the lady's hand."
Then he laughed. Peters's keen eyes were watching him, and Wally Hart was giving more heed to the conversation than was revealed by a fixed stare at the negro's head in meerschaum.
"You've bothered me," he went on. "I thought you had more sense. Don't you understand that all these bits of gossip reach Ingerman through the filter of the snug at the Hare and Hounds?"
"The man's visit was unexpected, and his mission even more so. I just blurted out the facts."
"Well, you've rendered the services of a solicitor absolutely indispensable now."
Grant, by no means so clear-headed these days as was his wont, followed the scent of Winter's red herring like the youngest hound in a pack; but Wally Hart and Peters, lookers-on in this chase, harked back to the right line.
"May I—" they both broke in simultaneously.
"Place to the fourth estate," bowed Hart solemnly.
"Thanks," said the journalist. "May I put a question, Winter?"
"A score, if you like."
"Totting up the average of the murder cases in which Furneaux and you have been engaged, in how many days do you count on spotting your man?"
"Sometimes we never get him."
"Oh, come a bit closer than that."
"Generally, given a clear run, with an established motive, we know who he is within eight days."
"Wednesday, in effect?"
"Can't say, this time?"
"Suppose, as a hypothesis, you are convinced of a man's guilt, but can obtain little or no evidence?"
"He goes through life a free and independent citizen of this or any other country. Arrests on suspicion are not my long suit."
"How does one get evidence?" purred Hart. "It isn't scattered broadcast by a clever criminal. And you fellows seem to object to my method, which has been the only effectual one so far in this affair."
"If you had shot that specter the other night there would have been the