Array Sapper - The Complete Works of H. C. McNeile Sapper

"Seems a bona-fide show, Algy," he remarked, lighting a cigarette.

"Will you give up the notes?" demanded his friend.

"My dear old thing, I must," answered Hugh. "You've seen the Professor's distinct instructions that jolly old Tootem & Tootem are to have 'em. I can't go against that. What the legal wallah does with them afterwards is nothing to do with me. Still, I wish I could feel more certain in my own mind. You see, the devil of it is, Algy, that even if that bloke is a stumer, our hands are tied. There are old Goodman's instructions, and the only thing I can do is to throw the responsibility on the lawyer's shoulders."

He paced thoughtfully up and down the room, to stop suddenly and pick up his hat. "It's worth trying," he remarked half to himself, and the next moment Algy was alone. From the window he saw Hugh hail a taxi and disappear, and with a shrug of his shoulders he resumed his study of Ruff's Guide. At times the vagaries of his host were apt to be a little wearing.

And when some four hours later Hugh returned just in time for dinner, it certainly seemed as if he'd wasted his time.

"I've been watching Mr Atkinson's house, Algy," he said despondently, "you know the one I spotted after the inquest, where Scheidstrun is living. Went to ground in a house opposite. Said I was a doctor looking for rooms. Thank heavens! the servant developed no symptoms requiring medical attention, because all I could have conscientiously recommended for anybody with a face like hers was a lethal chamber. However, as I say, I took cover in the parlour behind a bowl of stuffed fruit, and there I waited. Devil a thing for hours. Atkinson's house was evidently occupied; in fact, I saw him look out of the window once. A benevolent-looking old chap with mutton-chop whiskers. However, I stuck it out, and at last, just as I was on the point of giving it up, something did happen, though not much. A closed car drove up, and from it there descended old Scheidstrun, a youngish man, and an elderly woman. Couldn't see her very well—but she looked a typical Boche. Probably his wife, I should think."

He relapsed into silence and lit a cigarette. "An afternoon wasted," he grunted after a while. "I'm fed up with the whole dam' show, Algy. Why the devil didn't I give him the notes and be done with it when he was here? As it is, I've got to waste tomorrow morning as well fooling round in the city; and with the funeral in the afternoon the old brain will cease to function. Mix me a cocktail, like a good fellow. Everything is in the cupboard."

And thus it came about that while two cocktails were being lowered in gloomy silence in Brook Street, a cheerful-looking old gentleman with mutton- chop whiskers entered his quiet residential hotel in Bayswater. There were no signs of gloomy silence about the old gentleman; in fact, he was almost chatty with the lounge waiter.

"I think—yes, I think," he remarked, 'that I will have a small cocktail. Not a thing I often do—but this evening I will indulge."

"Spotted a winner, sir?" said the waiter, responding to the old gentleman's mood.

"Something of that sort, my lad," he replied genially—"something of that sort."

And Mr William Robinson's smile was enigmatic.

He seldom remembered an afternoon when in a quiet way he had enjoyed himself so much. In fact, he was almost glad that Drummond had refused to hand over the notes: it would have been so inartistic—so crude. Of course it would have saved bother, but where is the true artist who thinks of that? And he had never really imagined that Drummond would; he knew that young gentleman far too well for that. Naturally he was suspicious: well, he would be more suspicious tomorrow morning. He would be so suspicious, in fact, that in all probability the worthy Mr Tootem would get the shock of his life. He chuckled consumedly, and departed so far from his established custom as to order a second Martini. And as he lifted it to his lips he drank a silent toast: he drank to the shrewd powers of observation of a beautiful girl who was even then watching orange change to pink on the snow-capped Dent du Midi from the balcony of her room in the Palace Hotel.

And so it is unnecessary to emphasise the fact that there were wheels destined to rotate within wheels in the comfortable room in Austin Friars where Mr Tootem senior discharged his affairs, though that pillar of the legal profession was supremely unaware of the fact. With his usual courtly grace he had risen to greet the eminent German savant Professor Scheidstrun, who had arrived at about ten minutes to eleven on the following morning. Somewhat to Mr Tootem's surprise, the Professor had been accompanied by his wife, and Frau Scheidstrun was now waiting in the next room for the business to be concluded.

"Most sad, Professor," murmured Mr Tootem. "An irreparable loss, as you say, to the scientific world—and to his friends." He glanced at the clock. "This young man—Captain Drummond—will be here, you say, at eleven."

"That is the arrangement that I haf with him made," answered the German. "He would not to me quite rightly the notes hand over yesterday; but as you see from the letter, it was my dear friend's wish that I should haf them, and carry on with the great discovery he has made."

"Quite so," murmured Mr Tootem benevolently, wishing profoundly that Drummond would hasten his arrival. The morning, was warm; the Professor's egg-stained garments scandalised his British soul to the core; and in addition, Mr Tootem senior had arrived at that ripe age when office hours were made to be relaxed. He particularly wished to be at Lord's in time to see Middlesex open their innings against Yorkshire, and only the fact that Professor Goodman had been a personal friend of his had brought him to the city at all that day.

At length with a sigh of relief he looked up. Sounds of voices outside betokened someone's arrival, and the business would be a short one.

"Is this the young man?" he said, rubbing his hands together.

But the Professor made no reply: he was watching the door which opened at that moment to admit Drummond. And since Mr Tootem rose at once to greet him, the fact that he had not answered escaped the lawyer's attention. He also failed to notice that an unaccountable expression of uneasiness showed for a moment on the German's face, as he contemplated Drummond's vast bulk.

"Ah! Captain Drummond, I'm glad you've come," remarked Mr Tootem. "Let me see—you know Professor Scheidstrun, don't you?" He waved Drummond to a chair.

"Yes, we had a little pow-wow yesterday afternoon," said Drummond, seating himself.

The strained look had vanished from the Professor's face: he beamed cheerfully. "In which I found him most suspicious," he said in his guttural voice. "But quite rightly so."

"Exactly," murmured Mr Tootem, again glancing at the clock. It would take him at least twenty minutes to get to Lord's. "But I am sure he will not be suspicious of me. And since I have one or two important—er— business engagements, perhaps we can conduct this little matter through expeditiously."

He beamed benevolently on Drummond, who was leaning back in his chair regarding the Professor through half-closed lids. "Now, I understand that my dear friend and client, the late Professor Goodman, handed over to you some very valuable papers, Captain Drummond," continued Mr Tootem. "A great compliment, I may say, showing what faith he placed in your judgment and trustworthiness. I have here—and I gather you have seen this letter—instructions that those papers should be handed over to me. You have them with you, I trust?"

"Oh! yes. I've got them with me," said Drummond quietly, though his eyes never left the German's face.

"Excellent," murmured Mr Tootem. At a pinch he might do Lord's in a quarter of an hour. "Then if you would kindly let me have them, that will—ah—conclude the matter. I may say that I quite appreciate your reluctance to hand them to anyone but me..."