Sax Rohmer - The Golden Scorpion

sallow and satanic. His black moustache was very black and his eyes

were of so dark a brown as to appear black also. When he smiled he

revealed a row of very large white teeth, and his smile was correctly

Mephistophelean. He smoked a hundred and twenty Egyptian cigarettes

per diem, and the first and second fingers of either hand were

coffee-coloured.

"Good-evening, Inspector," he said courteously. "You come at an

opportune moment." He lighted a fresh cigarette. "I was detained here

unusually late to-night or this news would not have reached us till

the morning." He laid his finger upon a yellow form. "There is an

unpleasant development in 'The Scorpion' case."

"So I gather, sir. That is what brought me back to the Yard."

The Assistant Commissioner glanced up sharply.

"What brought you back to the Yard?" he asked.

"The news about Max."

The assistant Commissioner leaned back in his chair. "Might I ask,

Inspector," he said, "what news you have learned and how you have

learned it?"

Dunbar stared uncomprehendingly.

"Sowerby 'phoned me about half an hour ago, sir. Did he do so without

your instructions?"

"Most decidedly. What was his message?"

"He told me," replied Dunbar, in ever-growing amazement, "that the

body brought in by the River Police last night had been identified

as that of Gaston Max."

The Assistant Commissioner handed a pencilled slip to Dunbar. It read

as follows:--

"Gaston Max in London. Scorpion, Narcombe. No report since 30th ult.

Fear trouble. Identity-disk G. M. 49685."

"But, sir," said Dunbar--"this is exactly what Sowerby told me!"

"Quite so. That is the really extraordinary feature of the affair.

Because, you see, Inspector, I only finished decoding this message

at the very moment that you knocked at my door!"

"But----"

"There is no room for a 'but,' Inspector. This confidential message

from Paris reached me ten minutes ago. You know as well as I know that

there is no possibility of leakage. No one has entered my room in the

interval, yet you tell me that Sergeant Sowerby communicated this

information to you, by telephone, half an hour ago."

Dunbar was tapping his teeth with the pencil. His amazement was too

great for words.

"Had the message been a false one," continued the Commissioner, "the

matter would have been resolved into a meaningless hoax, but the

message having been what it was, we find ourselves face to face with

no ordinary problem. Remember, Inspector, that voices on the telephone

are deceptive. Sergeant Sowerby has marked vocal mannerisms----"

"Which would be fairly easy to imitate? Yes, sir--that's so."

"But it brings us no nearer to the real problems; viz., first, the

sender of the message; and, second, his purpose."

There was a dull purring sound and the Assistant Commissioner raised

the telephone.

"Yes. Who is it that wishes to speak to him? Dr. Keppel Stuart?

Connect with my office."

He turned again to Dunbar.

"Dr. Stuart has a matter of the utmost urgency to communicate,

Inspector. It was at the house of Dr. Stuart, I take it, that you

received the unexplained message?"

"It was--yes."

"Did you submit to Dr. Stuart the broken gold ornament?"

"Yes. It's a scorpion's tail."

"Ah!" The Assistant Commissioner smiled satanically and lighted a

fresh cigarette. "And is Dr. Stuart agreeable to placing his unusual

knowledge at our disposal for the purposes of this case?"

"He is, sir."

The purring sound was repeated.

"You are through to Dr. Stuart," said the Assistant Commissioner.

"Hullo" cried Dunbar, taking up the receiver--"is that Dr. Stuart?

Dunbar speaking."

He stood silent for a while, listening to the voice over the wires.

Then: "You want me to come around now, doctor? Very well. I'll be

with you in less than half an hour."

He put down the instrument.

"Something extraordinary seems to have taken place at Dr. Stuart's

house a few minutes after I left, sir," he said. "I'm going back

there, now, for particulars. It sounds as though the 'phone message

might have been intended to get me away." He stared down at the

pencilled slip which the Assistant Commissioner had handed him, but

stared vacantly, and: "Do you mind if I call someone up, sir?" he

asked. "It should be done at once."

"Call by all means, Inspector."

Dunbar again took up the telephone.

"Battersea 0996," he said, and stood waiting. Then:

"Is that Battersea 0996?" he asked. "Is Dr. Stuart there? He is

speaking? Oh, this is Inspector Dunbar. You called me up here at the

Yard a few moments ago, did you not? Correct, doctor; that's all I

wanted to know. I am coming now."

"Good," said the Assistant Commissioner, nodding his approval. "You

will have to check 'phone messages in that way until you have run your

mimic to earth, Inspector. I don't believe for a moment that it was

Sergeant Sowerby who rang you up at Dr. Stuart's."

"Neither do I," said Dunbar grimly. "But I begin to have a glimmer of

a notion who it was. I'll be saying good-night, sir. Dr. Stuart seems

to have something very important to tell me."

As a mere matter of form he waited for the report of the constable who

had gone in quest of Sowerby, but it merely confirmed the fact that

Sowerby had left Scotland Yard over three hours earlier. Dunbar

summoned a taxicab and proceeded to the house of Dr. Stuart.

Stuart personally admitted Dunbar, and once more the Inspector found

himself in the armchair in the study. The fire was almost out and the

room seemed to be chilly. Stuart was labouring under the influence of

suppressed excitement and was pacing restlessly up and down the floor.

"Inspector," he began, "I find it difficult to tell you the facts which

have recently come to my knowledge bearing upon this most mysterious

'Scorpion' case. I clearly perceive, now, that without being aware of

the fact I have nevertheless been concerned in the case for at least

a week."

Dunbar stared surprisedly, but offered no comment.

"A fortnight ago," Stuart continued, "I found myself in the

neighbourhood of the West India Docks. I had been spending the evening

with a very old friend, chief officer of a liner in dock. I had

intended to leave the ship at about ten o'clock and to walk to the

railway station, but, as it fell out, the party did not break up until

after midnight. Declining the offer of a berth on board, I came ashore

determined to make my way home by tram and afoot. I should probably

have done so and have been spared--much; but rain began to fall

suddenly and I found myself, foolishly unprovided with a top-coat, in

those grey East End streets without hope of getting a lift.

"It was just as I was crossing Limehouse Causeway that I observed, to

my astonishment, the head-lamps of a cab or car shining out from a dark

and forbidding thoroughfare which led down to the river. The sight was

so utterly unexpected that I paused, looking through the rainy mist in

the direction of the stationary vehicle. I was still unable to make

out if it were a cab or a car, and accordingly I walked along to where

it stood and found that it was a taxicab and apparently for hire.

"'Are you disengaged?' I said to the man.

"'Well, sir, I suppose I am,' was his curious reply. 'Where do you

want to go?'

"I gave him this address and he drove me home. On arriving, so