MAJOR OKEWOOD ENCOUNTERS A NEW TYPE
There is a sinister ring about the word "murder," which reacts upon even the most hardened sensibility. Edgar Allan Poe, who was a master of the suggestive use of words, realized this when he called the greatest detective story ever written "The Murders in the Rue Morgue." From the very beginning of the war, Desmond had seen death in all its forms but that word "murdered," spoken with slow emphasis in the quiet room, gave him an ugly chill feeling round the heart that he had never experienced on the battlefield.
"Murdered!" Desmond repeated dully and sat down. He felt stunned.
He was not thinking of the gentle old man cruelly done to death or of the pretty Barbara prostrate with grief. He was overawed by the curious fatality that had plucked him from the horrors of Flanders only to plunge him into a tragedy at home.
"Yes," said the Chief bluntly, "by a burglar apparently--the house was ransacked!""Chief," he broke out, "you must explain. I'm all at sea! Why did you send for me? What have you got to do with criminal cases, anyway? Surely, this is a Scotland Yard matter!"The Chief shook his head.
"I sent for you in default of your brother, Okewood!" he said.
"You once refused an offer of mine to take you into my service, but this time I had to have you, so I got the War Office to wire...""Then my appointment for ten o'clock to-day was with you?"Desmond exclaimed in astonishment.
The Chief nodded.
"It was," he said curtly.
"But," protested Desmond feebly, "did you know about this murder beforehand!"The Chief threw back his head and laughed.
"My dear fellow," he said; "I'm not quite so deep as all that. Ihaven't second sight, you know!"
"You've got something devilish like it, sir!" said Desmond. "How on earth did you know that I was at the Palaceum last night?"The Chief smiled grimly.
"Oh, that's very simple," he said. "Shall I tell you some more about yourself? You sat..." he glanced down at the desk in front of him,"... in Stall E 52 and, after Nur-el-Din's turn, Strangwise took you round and introduced you to the lady. In her dressing-room you met Mr. Mackwayte and his daughter. After that...""But," Desmond interrupted quickly, "I must have been followed by one of your men. Still, I can't see why my movements should interest the Secret Service, sir!"The Chief remained silent for a moment. Then he said:
"Fate often unexpectedly takes a hand in this game of ours, Okewood. I sent for you to come back from France but old man Destiny wouldn't leave it at that. Almost as soon as you landed he switched you straight on to a trail that I have been patiently following up for months past. That trail is..."The telephone on the desk rang sharply.
"Whose trail?" Desmond could not forbear to ask as the Chief took off the receiver.
"Just a minute," the Chief said. Then he spoke into the telephone:
"Marigold? Yes. Really? Very well, I'll come straight along now... I'll be with you in twenty minutes. Good-bye!"He put down the receiver and rose to his feet.
"Okewood," he cried gaily, "what do you say to a little detective work? That was Marigold of the Criminal Investigation Department... he's down at Seven Kings handling this murder case.
I asked him to let me know when it would be convenient for me to come along and have a look round, and he wants me to go now. Two heads are better than one. You'd better come along!"He pressed a button on the desk.
The swift and silent Matthews appeared.
"Matthews," he said, "when Captain Strangwise comes, please tell him I've been called away and ask him to call back here at two o'clock to see me."He paused and laid a lean finger reflectively along his nose.
"Are you lunching anywhere, Okewood?" he 'said. Desmond shook his head.
"Then you will lunch with me, eh? Right. Come along and we'll try to find the way to Seven Kings."The two men threaded the busy corridors to the lift which deposited them at the main entrance. A few minutes later the Chief was dexterously guiding his Vauxhall car through the crowded traffic of the Strand, Desmond beside him on the front seat.
Desmond was completely fogged in his mind. He couldn't see light anywhere. He asked himself in vain what possible connection could exist between this murder in an obscure quarter of London and the man at his side who, he knew, held in his firm hands lines that stretched to the uttermost ends of the earth? What kind of an affair was this, seemingly so commonplace that could take the Chief's attention from the hundred urgent matters of national security that occupied him?
The Chief seemed absorbed in his driving and Desmond felt it would be useless to attempt to draw him out. They wended their way through the city and out into the squalid length of the Mile End Road. Then the Chief began to talk.
"I hate driving through the City," he exclaimed, "but I always think it's good for the nerves. Still, I have a feeling that Ishall smash this old car up some day. That friend of yours, Strangwise, now he's a remarkable man!" Do you know his story?""About his escape from Germany?" asked Desmond.
The Chief nodded.
He told me something about it at dinner last night," said Desmond, "but he's such a modest chap he doesn't seem to like talking about it!""He must have a cool nerve," replied the Chief, "he doesn't know a word of German, except a few scraps he picked up in camp. Yet, after he got free, he made his way alone from somewhere in Hanover clear to the Dutch frontier. And I tell you he kept his eyes and ears open!""Was he able to tell you anything good" asked Desmond.
"The man's just full of information. He couldn't take a note of any kind, of course, but he seems to have a wonderful memory. He was able to give us the names of almost every unit of troops he came across."He stopped to skirt a tram, then added suddenly:
"Do you know him well, Okewood?"
