The church bells were chiming eleven o'clock when a car drew up before a gloomy corner shop, bearing the dingy1 sign of the pawnbroker's calling, and Beale and McNorton alighted.
It was a main street and was almost deserted2. Beale looked up at the windows. They were dark. He knocked at the side-entrance of the shop, and presently the two men were joined by a policeman.
"Nobody lives here, sir," explained the officer, when McNorton had made himself known. "Old Rosenblaum runs the business, and lives at Highgate."
He flashed his lamp upon the door and tried it, but it did not yield. A nightfarer who had been in the shade on the opposite side of the street came across and volunteered information.
He had seen another car drive up and a gentleman had alighted. He had opened the door with a key and gone in. There was nothing suspicious about him. He was "quite a gentleman, and was in evening-dress." The constable3 thought it was one of the partners of Rosenblaum in convivial4 and resplendent garb5. He had been in the house ten minutes then had come out again, locking the door behind him, and had driven off just before Beale's car had arrived.
It was not until half an hour later that an agitated6 little man brought by the police from Highgate admitted the two men.
There was no need to make a long search. The moment the light was switched on in the shop Beale made his discovery. On the broad counter lay a sheet of paper and a little heap of silver coins. He swept the money aside and read:
"For the redemption of one silver hunter, 10s. 6d."
It was signed in the characteristic handwriting that Beale knew so well "Van Heerden, M.D."
The two men looked at one another.
"What do you make of that?" asked McNorton.
Beale carried the paper to the light and examined it, and McNorton went on:
"He's a pretty cool fellow. I suppose he had the money and the message all ready for our benefit."
Beale shook his head.
"On the contrary," he said, "this was done on the spur of the moment. A piece of bravado7 which occurred to him when he had the watch. Look at this paper. You can imagine him searching his pocket for a piece of waste paper and taking the first that came to his hand. It is written in ink with the pawnbroker's own pen. The inkwell is open," he lifted up the pen, "the nib8 is still wet," he said.
McNorton took the paper from his hands.
It was a bill from a corn-chandler's at Horsham, the type of bill that was sent in days of war economy which folded over and constituted its own envelope. It was addressed to "J. B. Harden, Esq." ("That was the _alias_ he used when he took the wine vaults9 at Paddington," explained McNorton) and had been posted about a week before. Attached to the bottom of the account, which was for L3 10s., was a little slip calling attention to the fact that "this account had probably been overlooked."
Beale's finger traced the item for which the bill was rendered, and McNorton uttered an exclamation10 of surprise.
"Curious, isn't it?" said Beale, as he folded the paper and put it away in his pocket, "how these very clever men always make some trifling11 error which brings them to justice. I don't know how many great schemes I have seen brought to nothing through some such act of folly12 as this, some piece of theatrical13 bravado which benefited the criminal nothing at all."
"Good gracious," said McNorton wonderingly, "of course, that's what he is going to do. I never thought of that. It is in the neighbourhood of Horsham we must look for him, and I think if we can get one of the Messrs. Billingham out of bed in a couple of hours' time we shall do a good night's work."
They went outside and again questioned the policeman. He remembered the car turning round and going back the way it had come. It had probably taken one of the innumerable side-roads which lead from the main thoroughfare, and in this way they had missed it.
"I want to go to the '_Megaphone_' office first," said Beale. "I have some good friends on that paper and I am curious to know how bad the markets are. The night cables from New York should be coming in by now."
In his heart was a sickening fear which he dared not express. What would the morrow bring forth14? If this one man's cupidity15 and hate should succeed in releasing the terror upon the world, what sort of a world would it leave? Through the windows of the car he could see the placid16 policemen patrolling the streets, caught a glimpse of other cars brilliantly illuminated17 bearing their laughing men and women back to homes, who were ignorant of the monstrous18 danger which threatened their security and life.
He passed the facades19 of great commercial mansions20 which in a month's time might but serve to conceal21 the stark22 ruin within.
To him it was a night of tremendous tragedy, and for the second time in his life in the numbness23 induced by the greater peril24 and the greater anxiety he failed to wince25 at the thought of the danger in which Oliva stood.
Indeed, analysing his sensations she seemed to him on this occasion less a victim than a fellow-worker and he found a strange comfort in that thought of partnership26.
The _Megaphone_ buildings blazed with light when the car drew up to the door, messenger-boys were hurrying through the swing-doors, the two great elevators were running up and down without pause. The grey editor with a gruff voice threw over a bundle of flimsies.
"Here are the market reports," he growled27, "they are not very encouraging."
Beale read them and whistled, and the editor eyed him keenly.
"Well, what do you make of it?" he asked the detective. "Wheat at a shilling a pound already. God knows what it's going to be to-morrow!"
"Any other news?" asked Beale.
"We have asked Germany to explain why she has prohibited the export of wheat and to give us a reason for the stocks she holds and the steps she has taken during the past two months to accumulate reserves."
"Not exactly an ultimatum. There's nothing to go to war about. The Government has mobilized the fleet and the French Government has partially29 mobilized her army. The question is," he said, "would war ease the situation?"
Beale shook his head.
"The battle will not be fought in the field," he said, "it will be fought right here in London, in all your great towns, in Manchester, Coventry, Birmingham, Cardiff. It will be fought in New York and in a thousand townships between the Pacific and the Atlantic, and if the German scheme comes off we shall be beaten before a shot is fired."
"What does it mean?" asked the editor, "why is everybody buying wheat so frantically30? There is no shortage. The harvests in the United States and Canada are good."
"There will be no harvests," said Beale solemnly; and the journalist gaped31 at him.
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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convivial
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| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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nib
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| n.钢笔尖；尖头 | |
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vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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cupidity
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| n.贪心，贪财 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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facades
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| n.（房屋的）正面( facade的名词复数 )；假象，外观 | |
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mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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wince
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| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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ultimatum
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| n.最后通牒 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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