'I don't think you'll need any description of him. It was Lord Gavin Fortescue.'
For a second the Superintendent's blue eyes went curiously blank, but not a muscle of his face betrayed his sudden interest, and a less acute observer than Gregory would have missed his carefully concealed reaction.
'Lord Gavin Fortescue,' he repeated casually. 'Yes, we can get particulars of him easily enough, as we can of most well-known people. Are you quite sure though that it was Lord Gavin?'
'Certain. I could hardly be mistaken could I?'
'No. Once seen never forgotten, as the saying goes/ the Superintendent replied, admitting that he was quite well acquainted with Lord Gavin's strikingly unusual appearance. 'Strange, though, to find a gentleman like him mixed up in an affair like this isn’t it?'
'Is it?' Gregory countered. 'He's such a queer bird I should have thought it quite possible you had him on your records already.'
'Really now.' Marrowfat's eyebrows shot up in bland surprise. 'I can't imagine why you should think that. We know nothing of him officially.' He lowered his voice and leaned forward confidentially. 'Now, just what's your view of this business, sir?'
Gregory shrugged. 'I'm afraid I haven't got one at the moment. It's clear, of course, that the girl lured your man down to that cafe where the thugs set on him.'
'Very interesting,' nodded the Superintendent. 'In your view, then, Lord Gavin Fortescue sent those thugs to lay out our man?'
'That's about the size of it.'
'What d'you think he was after?'
'I haven't the faintest idea, but I hope to find out in the course of the next few days.'
Superintendent Marrowfat raised his carroty eyebrows again. 'But what's your interest in the matter, outside the lady, may I ask? It's hardly your business to ferret out Lord Gavin Fortescue's affairs.'
'No, but I'm engaged on a private investigation for Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust at the moment and the two things may link up together.'
'What sort of thing are you investigating?'
'That is Sir Pellinore's affair, and if he hasn't told you it's hardly my place to do so. He was hoping though, I think, that you might agree to my working with your people.'
Superintendent Marrowfat shook his large round head. 'I'm sorry sir: I'm afraid we can't agree to that. You see it would be quite contrary to regulations and I don't think the matter Inspector Wells was sent over to look into can have any bearing on a private issue which appears to rest between Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust and Lord Gavin Fortescue. We're very much obliged for the information you've brought us all the same.'
The Superintendent was glancing through the papers in the wallet. 'You didn't happen to find a telegram in this by any chance did you?' he asked after a moment.
'I'm afraid not.' Gregory lied glibly. He had never been particularly keen on police cooperation and since his offer of assistance had been rejected he had no intention of letting them have a sight of what he considered to be his best card.
'Pity,' said the big man, searching Gregory's face with innocent blue eyes. 'Wells had no time to make a copy of it and the thugs must have got it back after all.'
'That's what they were after then. Well, if you'd prefer that I should continue to act on my own I'm afraid there's no more to be said is there?'
'That's so, sir. Of course, if you tumble across any criminal activities during your investigations you're entitled to call upon the assistance of the police. In fact, it's your duty to do so, but it wouldn't do for us to mix ourselves up with Sir Pellinore's private concerns. If we once started doing that sort of thing we should never hear the end of it.'
'Right oh! Superintendent. Maybe you'll be hearing from me again later on.'
The Superintendent extended a large plump hand. 'That's it, sir. Much obliged to you I'm sure. I don't think there's any necessity to inform the French police that you concealed the lady for the night and I'm very grateful to you for having come to Wells's help so promptly when they were giving him a rough house. Good morning to you; and thank you.'
As the door closed behind Gregory the big Superintendent suddenly became amazingly active. He grabbed his desk telephone and, after a moment, bellowed down it.
'That you Wells? I've just had that bird here who helped you out at Trouville. Gregory Sallust's his name a clever devil if ever there was one he wanted to work in with us but, of course, I couldn't have that. Listen though, you're the lucky one. Lord Gavin Fortescue's in this. It'll be the biggest thing that's happened in years and it means promotion for you if you handle it right. Come up to me at once, but put some good men on to trail Sallust as he leaves the building. He's not to be lost sight of day or night. He's pinched that telegram, but he's going to lead us to something or my name's not Marrowfat.'
6
The Secret of Mont Couple
From Scotland Yard Gregory walked round the corner to Westminster Bridge and took the underground down to Gloucester Road, where he had rooms comprising the first floor of No. 272.
He could well have afforded better quarters but the building was the property of one, George Rudd, who had been his batman in the war and had ever since remained his devoted henchman.
Mr. Rudd eked out a precarious living by letting the upper floors of his house, generally to students at the London University, and doing odd jobs for the retail grocer who had the old-fashioned little shop on the ground floor.
When Gregory returned he found Rudd in his sitting room polishing some eighteenth century silver hilted rapiers. Rudd was a great polisher and always seemed to find some difficulty in disposing of his hands unless he had something to occupy them. He was a medium sized man with yellowish hair, close cropped and bristling at the top of his head, but allowed to grow into a lock in front, which he carefully trained in a well greased curve across his forehead. A small fair moustache graced his upper lip but, as he always kept it neatly trimmed, it failed to hide the fact that his teeth badly needed the attention of the dentist. His eyes were blue quick, humorous and. friendly.
'Like to come on a trip with me to France?' Gregory asked him.
'Not 'arf sir.' The ex-soldier removed the butt of a Goldflake that dangled from his lower lip. 'Is it gay Paree, or one of them places on the coast, where the girls from the Folley Berjares disports themselves in pocket handkerchiefs during the summer months?'
'No, this is business. I've got a private war on.' 'S'treuth! Who are we going to cosh this time?' 'That's the devil of it: I don't quite know.' 'Well it's all the same to me sir but I pity the poor devils if you've got it in for 'em. Shall we be taking the armaments?'
'May as well. We'll probably need them before we're through.'
Rudd replaced the rapiers above the mantelpiece and took two big automatics from a drawer in the writing table. They were greased and polished to a superb degree of oily efficiency and he fondled them with loving pride.
'A bag apiece is all we'll need,' Gregory went on. 'Just in. case we have to stay the night anywhere. By the bye, we shall be flying.'
'Must we go risking our necks that way as well, sir?' asked Rudd ruefully. 'No nasturtions on you as a pilot sir, but I always feel it's more homely like in a nice comfortable train me self.'