“But if you’re a total book maniac, I’ll get you appointed chief librarian in Mrs Roscoe’s castle at Rainbow Head. This library doesn’t exist at the moment, but you could buy whatever you wanted.
“And on top of all this,” he added with a leer, “you can be sure of Eileen St Claire’s friendship for life, if you put any value on that.”
“And what must I do in return?”
“Nothing wicked, nothing inhuman, nothing to upset your delicate sensibilities. You would only have to testify that Maloney was murdered. In short, you would have to do nothing but tell the truth.”
I felt as if an ocean-going yacht had smashed into my head. How simple and plausible was the disguise in which evil presented itself. It was quite true: Maloney had been deliberately killed. Perhaps the Roscoe heirs were right? But the temptation quickly passed.
“I don’t know what you’re after,” I said, “but it’s quite clear you want to harm the Earl. But this won’t get you anywhere. If Maloney was killed, it was done in self-defence. You know the facts. He intended to force his way into the Earl’s suite of rooms … not, I think, to bid him a tearful farewell. If it so happened that someone tried to stop him breaking in, and Maloney had an accident, no one’s to blame for that.”
“Put like that, no one is. But it all depends on you — on what you say, and how you phrase it. Can’t you see? Who knows about these accusations against Maloney, and about his departure? You, the Earl, the two younger Pendragons, perhaps a servant or two. You are the chief witness, because of what you saw. If you chose, it could be established that the gigantic figure was none other than the Earl in disguise. You could swear under oath, in all good faith, that you had seen him in that disguise more than once before.”
I clutched my brows. Myself as chief prosecution witness. No occupation could be more hateful. I’d rather lead a revolution in South America. It was a nightmare.
“And I’ll tell you something else, to ease your loyal and kindly conscience. It’s actually my strongest argument. The only way for you to save the Earl’s life is to consent to do this.”
“Don’t try to be funny.”
“Oh, but it really is. If you do as I ask, what will happen next? We have the proof in our hands that the Earl murdered Maloney. The Earl has proof that we got rid of William Roscoe. You say Maloney was killed in self-defence … it’s all one. The Earl will sacrifice anything to avoid having to appear in court or in public, and have his name in the papers.”
“So?”
“An honest barter will follow. We shall exchange proofs, and after that neither will be in a position to harm the other. A blessed peace. However if none of this happens, then no one can vouch for the Earl’s safety. Naturally that’s nothing to do with me, or with Eileen St Claire. But sadly, as time goes on, desperadoes like Maloney get themselves involved. People who will stop at nothing to prevent the Earl putting his evidence to good use.
“I must also warn you, most emphatically,” he continued, “that after what has happened your own life isn’t particularly safe. You’ve become too significant a person. You can’t just go on reading quietly in the British Museum. One of the greatest fortunes in Britain is at stake. You’ll be watched night and day. From now on, the danger that hangs over the Earl, and Osborne Pendragon as his heir, will be lying in wait for you too. I’m just giving you a friendly warning.”
“And you can sit here, telling me all these dreadful things,” I shouted, “in the heart of London, in a brightly lit room … I thought that this sort of skulduggery was uttered only in cellars lit by kerosene. Aren’t you worried someone might hear you?”
“Do speak a little more softly,” he said with a smile. “Wherever we talk I run the risk of Seton’s men boring a hole in the wall and listening in. That’s why I chose the one place in London where everyone can see us. And where I can keep an eye on them. No one could have overheard our conversation, with the slight possible exception of these two brown people at the next table. But they’ve been chatting away excitedly the whole time. Secret plans to liberate India, I should guess. But you haven’t yet given me a reply to my offer.”
“I won’t either. Tell me on what terms you will return the manuscript. I’m not interested in anything else.”
“Good Lord! When we’ve settled everything else, of course you’ll get the manuscript back. It’s a ridiculous point of detail.”
“Do you have it on you?”
“I do.”
“Show me. How do I know you aren’t trying to trick me?”
With a sardonic grin, Morvin reached into his pocket and pulled out the manuscript. He held it at a cautious distance.
If only I had a bit more aggression in me … like a tiger, I’d … But I didn’t.
Again he laughed silently.
“I know that violence isn’t in your nature.”
Suddenly an idea hit me. It seemed like a stroke of genius.
“You would do better to just hand me the manuscript and clear out,” I uttered, with blood-curdling calmness. “You’ve fallen into a trap, Dr Morvin. I arranged this morning for two detectives to be here. They are in the room. The moment you step through that door they’ll nab you and whisk you off to the police station. But I can spare you that, if you’ll just hand over the manuscript.”
His silent laugh went on for two whole minutes. Eventually he regained speech:
“Do you really think I’m an imbecile? That’s wonderful. You can be quite sure that we’ve been watching every movement you’ve made since you got back to your hotel. I know that you didn’t go out until this evening. And you didn’t telephone anyone. You sent a wire, and an express letter, both to Llanvygan. By the way, they suffered little mishaps and won’t get through. Your little bellboy isn’t quite as unapproachable as you are. You don’t really think I’d be here to negotiate with you if I wasn’t quite certain of my ground? It’s you that Seton’s men are watching, not me.”
I gave a deep sigh.
“This is nothing to do with me,” I said. “Have you anything else to tell me, or may I go?”
“What’s the hurry? You’re the one who has to consent — like a beautiful woman. Not immediately, of course. Though I can’t myself see what there is to dither about.”
“I have to have that manuscript,” I pleaded wildly.
“Look here, dear Doctor; I think you must be a little slow on the uptake. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s not uncommon among even the best scholars. You often find a surprising distance between abstract thought and practical common sense. Go back to your hotel and have a good sleep. I think you must also be rather tired. I’ll find another time for us to continue our exchange of ideas. I’m quite sure that sooner or later you’ll see things the way I do … Until then, think about it.”
And he made for the exit. In a trice he had paid at the cash desk and disappeared.
I remained sitting at the table, in a dull stupor. Yes, there certainly can be a distance between abstract thought and practical common sense. It almost hurt to think how stupid I had been, how helpless and utterly, utterly stupid.
Gradually the place emptied. The two Indians were no longer at the next table. In the middle of the room a group of some twenty Americans, perpetually young old ladies and men with their neckties askew, were creating a steady din like the roaring of metal.
I collected my coat and shuffled out, completely crestfallen.
As I reached the door someone called my name. I raised my head, to find the Indian couple arm in arm with Morvin.
“Doctor Bátky, step this way,” the woman said, in German.
As I approached I noticed that the two well-built Indians were holding Morvin by force. He was a rather small man, and was struggling desperately to free himself.