The Secret of Chimneys by Agatha Christie (good beach reads txt) 📖

“Ah, the revolver,” said Isaacstein thoughtfully. “That has not yet been found, I think?”

“Not yet.”

“Possibly thrown into the lake in passing.”

“Very possibly.”

“Where is Superintendent Battle? I have not seen him this afternoon.”

“He’s gone to London. I met him at the station.”

“Gone to London? Really? Did he say when he would be back?”

“Early to-morrow, so I understood.”

Virginia came in with Lord Caterham and Mr. Fish. She smiled a welcome at Anthony.

“So you’re back, Mr. Cade. Have you heard all about our adventures last night?”

“Why, trooly, Mr. Cade,” said Hiram Fish. “It was a night of strenuous excitement. Did you hear that I mistook Mrs. Revel for one of the thugs?”

“And in the meantime,” said Anthony, “the thug——?”

“Got clear away,” said Mr. Fish mournfully.

“Do pour out,” said Lord Caterham to Virginia. “I don’t know where Bundle is.”

Virginia officiated. Then she came and sat down near Anthony.

“Come to the boat-house after tea,” she said in a low voice. “Bill and I have got a lot to tell you.”

Then she joined lightly in the general conversation.

The meeting at the boat-house was duly held.

Virginia and Bill were bubbling over with their news. They agreed that a boat in the middle of the lake was the only safe place for confidential conversation. Having paddled out a sufficient distance, the full story of last night’s adventure was related to Anthony. Bill looked a little sulky. He wished Virginia would not insist on bringing this Colonial fellow into it.

“It’s very odd,” said Anthony, when the story was finished. “What do you make of it?” he asked Virginia.

“I think they were looking for something,” she returned promptly. “The burglar idea is absurd.”

“They thought the something, whatever it was, might be concealed in the suits of armour, that’s clear enough. But why tap the panelling? That looks more as though they were looking for a secret staircase, or something of that kind.”

“There’s a Priest’s Hole at Chimneys, I know,” said Virginia. “And I believe there’s a secret staircase as well. Lord Caterham would tell us all about it. What I want to know is, what can they have been looking for?”

“It can’t be the Memoirs,” said Anthony. “They’re a great bulky package. It must have been something small.”

“George knows, I expect,” said Virginia. “I wonder whether I could get it out of him. All along I’ve felt there was something behind all this.”

“You say there was only one man,” pursued Anthony, “but that there might possibly be another, as you thought you heard some one going towards the door as you sprang to the window.”

“The sound was very slight,” said Virginia. “It might have been just my imagination.”

“That’s quite possible, but in case it wasn’t your imagination the second person must have been an inmate of the house. I wonder now——”

“What are you wondering at?” asked Virginia.

“The thoroughness of Mr. Hiram Fish who dresses himself completely when he hears screams for help downstairs.”

“There’s something in that,” agreed Virginia. “And then there’s Isaacstein who sleeps through it all. That’s suspicious too. Surely he couldn’t?”

“There’s that fellow Boris,” suggested Bill. “He looks an unmitigated ruffian. Michael’s servant, I mean.”

“Chimneys is full of suspicious characters,” said Virginia. “I dare say the others are just as suspicious of us. I wish Superintendent Battle hadn’t gone to London. I think it’s rather stupid of him. By the way, Mr. Cade, I’ve seen that peculiar-looking Frenchman about once or twice, spying round the park.”

“It’s a mix up,” confessed Anthony. “I’ve been away on a wild-goose chase. Made a thorough ass of myself. Look here, to me the whole question seems to resolve itself into this: Did the men find what they were looking for last night?”

“Supposing they didn’t?” said Virginia. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t, as a matter of fact.”

“Just this, I believe they’ll come again. They know, or they soon will know, that Battle’s in London. They’ll take the risk and come again to-night.”

“Do you really think so?”

“It’s a chance. Now we three will form a little syndicate. Eversleigh and I will conceal ourselves with due precautions in the Council Chamber——”

“What about me?” interrupted Virginia. “Don’t think you’re going to leave me out of it.”

“Listen to me, Virginia,” said Bill. “This is man’s work——”

“Don’t be an idiot, Bill. I’m in on this. Don’t you make any mistake about it. The syndicate will keep watch to-night.”

It was settled thus, and the details of the plan were laid. After the party had retired to bed, first one and then another of the syndicate crept down. They were all armed with powerful electric torches, and in the pocket of Anthony’s coat lay a revolver.

Anthony had said that he believed another attempt to resume the search would be made. Nevertheless, he did not expect that the attempt would be made from outside. He believed that Virginia had been correct in her guess that some one had passed her in the dark the night before, and as he stood in the shadow of an old oak dresser it was towards the door and not the window that his eyes were directed. Virginia was crouching behind a figure in armour on the opposite wall, and Bill was by the window.

The minutes passed, at interminable length. One o’clock chimed, then the half-hour, then two, then another half-hour. Anthony felt stiff and cramped. He was coming slowly to the conclusion that he had been wrong. No attempt would be made to-night.

And then he stiffened suddenly, all his senses on the alert. He had heard a footstep on the terrace outside. Silence again, then a low scratching noise at the window. Suddenly it ceased, and the window swung open. A man stepped across the sill into the room.

He stood quite still for a moment, peering round as though listening. After a minute or two, seemingly satisfied, he switched on a torch he carried, and turned it rapidly round the room. Apparently he saw nothing unusual. The three watchers held their breath.

He went over to the same bit of panelled wall he had been examining the night before.

And then a terrible knowledge smote Bill. He was going to sneeze! The wild race through the dew-laden park the night before had given him a chill. All day he had sneezed intermittently. A sneeze was due now, and nothing on earth would stop it.

He adopted all the remedies he could think of. He pressed his upper lip, swallowed hard, threw back his head and looked at the ceiling. As a last resort he held his nose, and pinched it violently. It was of no avail. He sneezed.

A stifled, checked, emasculated sneeze, but a startling sound in the deadly quiet of the room.

The stranger sprang round, and in the same minute Anthony acted. He flashed on his torch, and jumped full for the stranger. In another minute they were down on the floor together.

“Lights,” shouted Anthony.

Virginia was ready at the switch. The lights came on true and full to-night. Anthony was on top of his man, Bill leant down to give him a hand.

“And now,” said Anthony, “let’s see who you are, my fine fellow.”

He rolled his victim over. It was the neat, dark-bearded stranger from the Cricketers.

“Very nice indeed,” said an approving voice.

They all looked up startled. The bulky form of Superintendent Battle was standing in the open doorway.

“I thought you were in London, Superintendent Battle,” said Anthony.

Battle’s eyes twinkled.

“Did you, sir?” he said. “Well, I thought it would be a good thing if I was thought to be going.”

“And it has been,” agreed Anthony, looking down at his prostrate foe.

To his surprise there was a slight smile on the stranger’s face.

“May I get up, gentlemen?” he inquired. “You are three to one.”

Anthony kindly hauled him on to his legs. The stranger settled his coat, pulled up his collar, and directed a keen look at Battle.

“I demand pardon,” he said, “but do I understand that you are a representative from Scotland Yard?”

“That’s right,” said Battle.

“Then I will present to you my credentials.” He smiled rather ruefully. “I would have been wise to do so before.”

He took some papers from his pocket and handed them to the Scotland Yard detective. At the same time, he turned back the lapel of his coat and showed something pinned there.

Battle gave an exclamation of astonishment. He looked through the papers and handed them back with a little bow.

“I’m sorry you’ve been man-handled, monsieur,” he said, “but you brought it on yourself, you know.”

He smiled, noting the astonished expression on the faces of the other.

“This is a colleague we have been expecting for some time,” he said. “M. Lemoine, of the Sûreté in Paris.”