“Coming to bed, old bird?” remarked that worthy. “I thought of taking up one of the pikes out of the hall in case a general action occurs during the night. The only thing against it is that a man impaled on the end of a pike would be a dreadful sight at three in the morning. He wouldn’t go with my yellow pajamas at all well.”
He looked at Drummond curiously.
“What’s stung you, Hugh? You seem devilish thoughtful.”
“I’m just wondering, Algy, if I’m being a complete half-wit, or if I’m not. By the way, Andrews did say, didn’t he, that one of his minions was going to be on guard outside Dinard’s door tonight?”
“He did and there he is. Further there is one on guard in the corridor. I’ve just been up to fill my cigarette case and I saw ’em.”
“Good. Then let’s go to bed. I’ve probably got the mental jitters.”
It was half an hour later that the door of Algy’s room opened. He had just smashed his tooth glass with his slipper, in an unsuccessful attempt to swat a mosquito, and was engaged in picking up the fragments, when Drummond came in.
“Unless I’m much mistaken, Algy,” he remarked quietly, “strange things will be abroad tonight.”
The other one stared.
“What sort of things?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Drummond. “So the curtain goes up on a completely unknown play.”
“You annoying blighter,” cried Algy. “Can’t you be a bit more explicit?”
“I can’t,” answered Drummond simply. “I give you my word of honor I’m completely in the dark.”
And he still was the following morning, when by ones and twos the guests drifted into breakfast. For nothing had happened in the night, except that, in common with most of the others, he had been bitten by a mosquito. Once in the distance he thought he had heard the sound of a motor being started and driven away; beyond that nothing had occurred. And with the coming of dawn he had slept.
Breakfast over he strolled out of doors followed by an openly derisive Algy. And outside the open window of the billiard room he paused and looked through at Billy arranging his army, now dry, in new formations, whilst fresh victims were being prepared for Stedman’s art. Then, still in silence, he walked on with Algy beside him.
“What did you think was going to happen, old boy?” asked that worthy for the tenth time. “Or what made you think that anything was going to happen?”
“The Cameron Highlanders,” said Drummond. “Anyone who is sufficiently interested in toy soldiers as to paint them, ought to know the color of their kilts. Hullo! what has Andrews got hold of?”
Coming towards them was the Inspector with one of his men, holding in his hand what seemed to be a long thin twig.
“Good morning, Captain Drummond,” he cried cheerfully. “What do you make of this?”
On closer inspection it proved to be part of the top joint of a salmon rod, snapped off about three feet from the end. But the interesting thing was the small attachment. About an inch below the top of the rod was a small muslin box, fastened securely to the rod. The box was about two inches square, and the framework was made of wood with the fabric stretched taut between. To one side was tied a piece of fine string which passed through the top ring of the rod in the fashion of an ordinary fishing line, and now hung trailing on the ground.
“As you can see,” said Andrews, “when you pull that string you open the box. And unless you pull the string the box can’t open because the lid is held in position by that bit of elastic inside.”
“Where did you find it?” asked Drummond.
“Snapped off in the bush which is Jenkin’s hiding place by day. Moreover it was not there yesterday, or he’d have seen it then.”
“Which means it was broken off last night. Any footprints?”
“None. But with the ground like a board one wouldn’t expect any help in that direction.”
“What do you make of it, Andrews?” said Drummond.
“Since it obviously didn’t get there by itself, there must have been someone prowling around last night carrying the rod of which this is the top. In the darkness it got tangled up in the bush and snapped off, and whatever was inside here escaped. It was something, Captain Drummond, that he intended to poke up from outside through a window in the Castle and allow to escape into the Comte de Dinard’s room. ‘Guns are useless,’ don’t forget. But when he broke his rod, and the thing escaped, the whole plan failed.”
“Somehow or other I don’t think I’d have left that in the bush even if it was broken,” said Drummond thoughtfully. “That little muslin box is beautifully made and could be used again on another rod.”
“But he did leave it there.”
“Yes. But I wonder if it was on the way to the Castle. I wonder if by any chance he did just what you have suggested, then got alarmed or something and broke it on the way back, when the box was no longer of any use and he didn’t mind losing it.”
“Ingenious, my dear Captain Drummond, except for one point you overlooked. You forget that so far as any outsider could know, I was occupying the Comte’s room. And you may take it from me that nobody flapped boxes last night outside my window.”
“No: I hadn’t overlooked it, old boy,” said Drummond quietly. “Anyway the great point is that the Comte’s health, judging by his verbosity at breakfast, is quite unimpaired.”
The Inspector looked at him curiously.
“You’re not satisfied, sir?” he said.
“I’m not,” answered Drummond. “Though I daresay I shall prove utterly wrong.”
“But what’s stinging you?”
Drummond frowned.
“The fact that the kilt of the Camerons is reddish in hue.”
The Inspector looked at Algy; Algy looked at the Inspector.
“He’ll be better after he’s had some beer, Andrews,” he said. “Captain Drummond gets taken like this at times.”
That afternoon the party broke up, and a few days later the whole episode was beginning to fade from Drummond’s mind. He had made a mistake: his suspicions had been fantastic. In any even the Comte de Dinard was still going strong in Paris, which was all that really mattered. No harm had come to him at Oxshott Castle; the worthy Andrews deserved full marks. And, so far as he knew, no harm had come to anyone else. So it came as almost a shock to him when, returning to dress for dinner one evening, he found the Inspector waiting for him in his sitting room.
“Have you a few minutes to spare, Captain Drummond?” he said gravely.
“Certainly, Andrews. As long as you like. I see,” he added, “that something has happened.”
“Something so strange that I have come straight to you. I remember that you were not satisfied when you left the Castle, but at the time you would say nothing. Now, you must.”
“Go on,” said Drummond quietly.
“Have you ever heard of yellow fever?” asked Andrews.
“I have. A tropical disease,” answered Drummond surprised.
“And a very dangerous one. It is fatal more often than not. Do you know how it is carried?”
“I can’t say that I do,” Drummond acknowledged.
“By mosquitoes,” Andrews paused. “You may remember there were a good many mosquitoes at the Castle,” he continued.
“There were,” agreed Drummond.
“You may also remember that little muslin box?”
Drummond nodded.
“And our theory as to what it was for? To let out something — we knew not what — into the Comte’s bedroom.”
Once again Drummond nodded.
“We were right. And what is more you were right when you suggested that the rod had been broken after the owner had been to the Castle and not before.”
“I was, was I?” said Drummond softly.