“Well, I don’t know whether the information is pertinent or not, but come along; I’ll take you to Captain Smollett.”
The two investigators followed the commander down a corridor, up a flight of stairs, and down another corridor toward the rear of the building.
There was a middle-aged petty officer sitting behind a desk in the outer office who looked up from his work as the three men entered. He did not even bother to look at the two civilians.
“Yes, My Lord Commander?” he said.
“Would you tell Captain Smollett that Lord Darcy and Lord Bontriomphe are here to see him. He will know what their business is.”
“Aye, my lord.” The petty officer got up from behind the desk, went into an inner office, and came out again a minute or so later. “Compliments of the captain, my lords. He would like to see all three of you in his office immediately.”
There are three ways of doing things, Lord Darcy thought to himself, the right way, the wrong way, and the Navy way.
Captain Smollett was standing behind his desk when they went into the room, a pipe clenched firmly between his teeth, his gray-fringed bald head gleaming in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the windows at his back.
“Good afternoon, m’luds,” he said briskly. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Trust you have some information for me.”
“I was rather hoping you had some information for us, Captain,” Lord Darcy said.
Smollett’s eyebrows lifted. “Eh? Not much, I’m afraid,” he said, speaking through his teeth and around his pipestem. “Nothing new has happened since this morning. That’s why I was hoping that you had some information.”
“It is not new information I want, Captain Smollett. By now, indeed, it may be rather stale.
“Yesterday afternoon at 2:54 your agent, Commander Lord Ashley, returned to the Royal Steward Hotel. After that, several other of your agents came and went. The General Manager, Goodman Lewie Bolmer, has informed us that he is under strict instructions from the Navy, in the King’s Name, to give information to no one, including, presumably, duly authorized Officers of the King’s Peace, operating under a special warrant which also permits them to act and speak in the King’s Name.
“I could have forced the information from him but he was acting in good faith and he had enough troubles as it is. I felt that you could give me all the information he has and a great deal more besides. We met My Lord Commander downstairs, but doubtless he, too, is under orders, so, as with Goodman Lewie, it would not be worth my time to pry the information out of him when I can get it from you.
“This much we know: Goodman Paul Nichols, the night manager, failed to show up for work at midnight last night. This, apparently, is important; and yet, your agents were asking questions about him some nine hours before. What we want to know is why. I shall not ask you why we were not given this information this morning; I shall merely ask that we be given it now.”
Captain Smollett was silent for the space of several seconds, his cold gray eyes looking with unblinking directness into Darcy’s own. “Um,” he said finally, “I suppose I deserve that. Should have mentioned it this morning. I admit it. Thing is, it just isn’t in your jurisdiction — that is, normally it wouldn’t be. We have men looking everywhere for Nichols, but he hasn’t done a thing we can prove.”
“What do you think he’s done?”
“Stolen something,” said Captain Smollett. “Trouble is, we can’t prove the thing we think he’s stolen ever existed. And if it did exist, we’re not certain of its value.”
“Very mysterious,” said Lord Bontriomphe. “At least, to me. Does this have a beginning somewhere?”
“Hm-m-m. Beg your pardon. Don’t mean to sound mysterious. Here, will you be seated? Brandy on the table over there. Pour them some brandy, Commander. Make yourselves comfortable. It’s a rather longish story.”
He sat down behind his desk, reached out toward a pile of file folders, and took an envelope out of the top one.
“Here’s the picture: Zwinge was a busy man. Had a great many things to keep an eye on. Being Chief Forensic Sorcerer for the City of London would be a full-time job for an ordinary man.” He looked at Lord Bontriomphe. “Be frank, m’lud. Did you ever suspect that he was working for the Naval Intelligence Corps?”
“Never,” Bontriomphe admitted, “though Heaven knows he worked hard enough. He was always busy, and he was one of those men who think that anything more than five hours sleep a night is an indication of sloth. Tell me, Captain, did My Lord Marquis know?”
“He was never told,” said Captain Smollett. “Zwinge did say that he suspected that My Lord de London was aware of his Navy work, but if so he never mentioned it.”
“He wouldn’t,” said Lord Bontriomphe.
“No, of course not. At any rate, Zwinge had a great many irons in the fire. More things going on in Europe than just this one affair, I can assure you. Nonetheless, he felt it necessary to go to this Healers and Sorcerers Convention. Look odd if he didn’t, he said, what with his being right here in London and all. But of course he kept right on working, even there.”
“That is undoubtedly why he put the special spell on the lock of his hotel room,” said Lord Darcy.
“No doubt, no doubt,” agreed Captain Smollett. “At any rate, yesterday morning he sent this letter to me by messenger from the hotel.” He handed the envelope to Lord Darcy. “You’ll notice it is stamped 7:45 a.m.”
Lord Darcy looked at the outside of the envelope. It was addressed to Captain Percy Smollett and was marked “Personal.” Darcy opened it and took out the single sheet of paper. “This is in code,” said Lord Darcy.
“Of course,” said Captain Smollett. He took another sheet from the file and handed it over. “Here is the clear,” he said. Lord Darcy read the message aloud:
“ ‘Sir: I have a special packet for you containing information of the utmost importance which I have just received. It is impossible for me to leave the hotel at this time, and I do not wish to entrust this information to a common messenger. Accordingly, I have given the envelope with my seal upon it to the hotel manager, Goodman Paul Nichols. He has placed it in the hotel safe and has been instructed to hand it over to your courier.’ ”
The note was signed with the single letter “Z.”
Lord Darcy handed the papers back to the captain. “I see, Captain. Pray continue.”
“As I said, the message arrived at 7:45. It was placed on my desk with the rest of my morning mail. Now — I didn’t arrive here at the office until a few minutes before ten. Hadn’t had time to even glance at my mail when Commander Ashley came in, bringing the news from Cherbourg that Barbour had been murdered — which was bad enough — and the further intelligence that Master Sir James had been stabbed to death only half an hour before. Since you already know of the importance we’ve attached to this affair, you’ll understand that for the next few hours I was a very busy man. Didn’t have a chance to look at my mail until well after two o’clock. When I decoded the letter, I sent Ashley, here, over to fetch the packet.” He looked at the Commander. “You’d better take it from there, Commander. I’m sure Lord Darcy prefers to get his facts as directly as possible.”
“Aye, sir.” He turned to face Lord Darcy. “I went directly to the hotel and asked to see Goodman Lewie, and told him that Sir James had left an envelope addressed to Captain Smollett in the safe, to be delivered to the Navy.
“He said he knew nothing of it, and I told him that it had been left with Goodman Paul.
“He informed me that Goodman Paul had made no mention of it when he went off duty at nine, but he agreed to open the safe and get the envelope out.
“I was standing by him when he opened the safe. It’s a small one and there wasn’t much inside it. Certainly there was no envelope addressed to Captain Smollett, nor any sign that there had ever been one. Bolmer swore that he had not opened the safe that morning, and both of the desk clerks substantiated that. Bolmer and his two assistant managers are the only ones who know the combination, and the security spell only allows the assistant managers to open the safe during the time they are on duty, that is, from three p.m. till midnight for the afternoon manager and from midnight to nine a.m. for the night manager.”