The Clue of the Silver Key - Edgar Wallace (read e book txt) 📗
- Author: Edgar Wallace
- Performer: -
Book online «The Clue of the Silver Key - Edgar Wallace (read e book txt) 📗». Author Edgar Wallace
London for a week or two. My leave is due, and I want to get into the
country. I wonder if you would collect my letters at the flat and keep
them for me till I come back?’
‘Why not have them sent on?’ said Dick, in surprise.
Leo Moran shook his head impatiently. ‘I have a special reason for
asking. I’m having nothing sent on. My man is going away on his holiday,
and the flat will be in charge of Heaven knows who. If I send you the
key, will you keep an eye on the place?’
‘When are you going?’ asked Dick.
Moran was vague on this point; there was no certainty whether his leave
would be granted. Head office was being rather difficult, although he had
a most capable assistant and could have handed over at any moment.
‘I want to go at once, but these brutes in the City are just being
tin-godlike. You’ll never know how near human beings can approach
divinity until you’ve had dealings with general managers of banks,’ he
said. ‘When you approach them, you make three genuflections and stand on
your head, and even then they hardly notice you! Is it a bet?’
‘Surely,’ said Dick. ‘You know where to send the key. And I’ll take a
little cheap advice from you, now you’re here.’
He told him of the offer he had received for the gun. There was no need
to explain what the gun was, for Leo had both seen and tested it.
‘I shouldn’t take an outright offer. I should prefer to take half on
account of a royalty,’ he said, when Dick had finished.
‘Are you going to your flat soon?’
‘Almost immediately,’ said the other. ‘Mary has a supper engagement.’
‘With Mr Wirth?’ asked Moran with a smile.
‘I thought you’d never heard of him?’ said Dick.
‘His name came to me as I was speaking. He’s the fellow who gives these
supper parties. I used to give them myself once upon a time, and Dead Sea
fruit they are! But if you’re going back I’ll walk with you, and renew my
acquaintance with your remarkable invention.’
Leo Moran would have been much more popular but for the fact that there
was invariably a hint of sarcasm in his most commonplace remarks.
Sometimes Dick, who liked him well enough, thought he had been soured by
some big misfortune; for, despite his geniality, there was generally a
bite to his remarks. Dick forgave him as they walked along the Strand for
all that he had to say concerning Jerry Dornford.
‘There’s a wastrel!’ said Moran.’ I can’t tell you why I think so,
because I’m interviewing him tomorrow on bank business.’
Though the evening was warm, a fog had formed, which, as their taxi
approached the park, increased in density. It was clearing off as they
passed through Knightsbridge.
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Dick, ‘you’re making me do something it has
been on my conscience to do all the evening, and that is, go home and
look at that gun. Like a fool, I charged it before I came out. I was
about to make the experiment of trying to shoot a nickel bullet through a
steel plate, and like an idiot I left it loaded.’
The fog was very patchy, and was so dense that the driver had to feel his
way along the kerb as they approached the house where Dick had his
workshop.
The little lift was in darkness, and even when Dick turned the switch no
light came. As he moved he trod on something which crashed under his
feet.
‘What the devil was that?’ asked Moran irritably.
Dick struck a match. He saw on the floor the remains of a small light
bulb which had evidently been removed from the roof of the lift.
‘That’s odd. Our janitor is a little careless,’ he said, and pushed the
button that sent the elevator up to the top floor. He took out a key and
had another surprise, for a key was already in the lock, so tightly
fitted that it could not be turned one way or the other.
He twisted the handle; the door gave.
‘There’s somebody been playing monkey tricks here,’ he said.
Turning on the light, he stood stock still, momentarily incapable of
speech. The bench on which the gun had stood was empty. The gun was gone!
HE RECOVERED HIS voice at last.
‘Well, I’ll be…!’
Who could have taken it? He was staggered, so staggered that he could not
be angry. Pulling back the door, he examined the key and, with the aid of
a pair of powerful pliers, presently extracted it. It was a rough and
ready affair, badly filed, but evidently it had fitted, and had done all
that its owner had required, for the lock had turned back.
It was when the unknown had tried to relock the door and take away the
key that he had failed.
Dick walked to where the gun had been and glared down at the bench. Then
he began to laugh.
‘The brute!’
‘It’s a very serious loss to you, isn’t it?’ asked Moran.
Dick shook his head. ‘Not really. All the plans and specifications are in
the hands of a model-maker, and fortunately I applied for a provisional
patent for the main features three days ago.’ He stared at Moran. ‘The
question is, who did it?’ And then his jaw dropped. ‘If he doesn’t know
how to handle that thing, and isn’t jolly careful, he’ll either kill
himself or some innocent passer-by!’ he said. ‘I wonder if he knows how
to unload it?’
He pulled out a chair and sat down, and with a gesture invited his
visitor to sit. ‘I suppose we ought to tell the police. Now, if old man
Surefoot is at the Yard…’
He consulted an address book and gave a number. After a long parley with
a suspicious girl at the Scotland Yard exchange, he found himself
connected with Smith. In a few words he explained what had happened.
‘I’ll come up. Is there anything else missing?’
‘No—the beer is intact,’ said Dick.
When he had hung up the receiver he went into his little larder and
dragged in a wooden case.
‘Surefoot will be glad; he loathes science. Don’t make a face like that,
my dear chap—Surefoot’s clever. I used to think that beer had a
deadening effect on people, but Surefoot is an amazing proof of the
contrary. You don’t like him?’
‘I’m not passionately attached to him,’ said Moran. He looked at his
watch. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you alone with your grief. It’s
hard luck—is it insured?’
‘Spoken like a banker!’ said Dick.’ No, it isn’t. Leo, I never realized I
was a genius till now—it’s like the things that you read about in
thrillers! You see what has happened? Our friend came here in the fog,
but to make absolutely sure he shouldn’t be seen he took out the light in
the lift, so that nobody should spot him on his way down. The door is
lattice work, and if the light had been on he could have been seen from
any of the floors, supposing somebody was there to see him. I presume he
had a car outside; he put the gun into the vehicle and got away. Probably
we passed him.’
‘Who would know you had the gun?’
Dick thought for a while. ‘Mary knew; Jerry Dornford knew—Good Lord!’
Leo Moran smiled and shook his head. ‘Jerry wouldn’t have the energy,
anyway; and he wouldn’t know where to market—’
He stopped suddenly. ‘I saw him the other day at Snell’s Club, with that
poisonous little devil Jules—the fellow who is supposed to have been
concerned in pinching the French mobilization plans.’
Dick hesitated, reached for the telephone directory, found the number he
wanted and dialled it. The line was engaged.
Five minutes later he tried again and heard Jerry’s voice.
‘Hullo, Dornford! Got my gun?’ asked Dick.
‘Your what?’ asked Jerry’s steady voice.
‘Somebody said they saw you walking out of my house with something under
your arm this evening.’
‘I haven’t seen your infernal house, and I’m not likely to see it after
your rudeness this afternoon!’ Click! Jerry Dornford had hung up on him.
I wonder,’ said Dick, and frowned as he slowly replaced the receiver.’ I
can’t believe he did it, though there’s nothing bad I wouldn’t believe
about him.’
‘Do you think it was your German friend?’ asked Leo.
‘Rubbish! Why should he offer me the money? He would have given me a
draft right away this afternoon if I’d wanted it. No, we’ll leave it to
old man Surefoot.’
‘Then you’ll leave it to him alone,’ said Leo, and buttoned up his
overcoat.
He went to the door and turned back.
‘You’ll not go back on your promise, about clearing my letters? It all
depends on what happens tomorrow how soon I go, and the first intimation
you’ll get will be when you receive my key.’
‘Where are you going?’ asked Dick.
Leo shook his head. ‘That’s the one thing I can’t tell you,’ he said.
Sitting alone, surveying the empty bench, Dick Allenby began to realize
the seriousness of his loss. If he was bewildered by the theft, the last
thing in the world he expected, he was by no means shattered. He tried to
get Mary on the phone, but thought better of it. It would be selfish to
spoil her night’s amusement. Better start again. He was working at his
drawing-board on a new plan, and had already conceived an improvement on
the older model, when Surefoot Smith arrived.
He listened while Dick described the circumstances of his return;
examined the key casually, and seemed more interested in the marks that
the machine had made, visible against its dusty surroundings, than in
anything else.
‘No, it’s not remarkable,’ he said when Dick so described the theft.
‘Dozens of inventions are stolen in the course of a year…yes, I mean
burgled. I know a company promoter who floated a business to sell
cameras, he had his house burgled and the plans of the inventions stolen
a week before the company was put on the market. I’ve known other
promoters to have police guards in their houses day and night.’
He walked round the room and presently related the sum of his
discoveries.
‘The man who took this was taller than you.’ He pointed to a bench near
the door, the contents of which were in some disorder.’ He rested the gun
there while he tried to operate the lock, and that bench is higher than
this. He wore gloves; he must have handled this cylinder and there’s no
finger-prints on it. Who’s been here lately?’
Dick told him.
‘Mr Gerald Dornford, eh? I shouldn’t think he’d have the nerve. We had
some trouble with him once; he was running a little game in the West End.
I might look him up, but it would be asking for trouble. I hardly think
it’s worth while putting him under observation,’ said Surefoot. ‘Are you
going to call up the Press and tell them all about it? They’ll make a
story of it—“Sensational Invention Stolen”.’
‘I didn’t think of doing anything so silly.’
‘Then you’re wise,’ said Surefoot.
He looked helplessly around; Dick pointed to the beer case under the
bench.
Comments (0)