Merritt darted away and flung himself into a pa.s.sing cab. His face was dark with pa.s.sion; the big veins stood out on his forehead like cords.

"The cur," he snarled--"the mean cur! I'll be even with him yet. If I can only catch the 4.48 at the Junction I'll be in London before them.

And I'll go down to Brighton, if I have to foot it all the way, and, once I get there, look to yourself, Reginald Henson. A hundred pounds is a good sum to go on with. I'll kill that cur--I'll choke the life out of him. Cabby, if you get to the Junction by a quarter to five I'll give you a quid."

"The quid's as good as mine, sir," cabby said, cheerfully. "Get along, la.s.s."

Meanwhile Chris had returned thoughtfully to the dog-cart, musing over the last discovery. She felt quite satisfied with her afternoon's work.

Then a new idea struck her. She crossed over to the post-office and dispatched a long telegram thus:--

"To David Steel, 15, Downend Terrace, Brighton.

"Go to Walen's and ascertain full description of the tentative customer who suggested the firm should procure gun-metal cigar-case for him to look at. Ask if he was a tall man with a thin beard and a face slightly pock-marked. Then telephone result to me here. Quite safe, as Henson is away. Great discoveries to tell you.--CHRISTABEL LEE."

Chris paid for her telegram and then drove thoughtfully homeward.

CHAPTER XLVIII

WHERE IS RAWLINS?

Lord Littimer was greatly interested in all that Chris had to say. The whole story was confided to him after dinner. Over his coffee on the terrace he offered many shrewd suggestions.

"There is one thing wherein you have made a mistake," he said. "And that is in your idea that Henson changed those cigar-cases after Miss Gates laid your votive offering on Steel's doorstep."

"How else could it be done?" Chris said.

"My dear, the thing is quite obvious. You have already told me that Henson was quite aware what you were going to do--at least that he knew you were going to consult Steel. Also he knew that you were going to make Steel a present, and by a little judicious eavesdropping he contrived to glean all about the cigar-case. The fellow has already admitted to your sister that he listened. How long was that before you bought the cigar-case?"

"I should say it might have been a week. We had inquiries to make, you know. In the first instance we never dreamt of offering Mr. Steel money.

I blush to think of that folly."

"Well, blush a little later on when you have more time. Then Henson had a week to work out his little scheme. He knows all about the cigar-case; he knows where it is going to be bought. Then he goes to Lockhart's and purchases some trifle in the shape of a cigar-case; he has it packed up, yellow string and all. This is his dummy. By keeping his eyes open he gets the chance he is waiting for. Ruth Gates hadn't the faintest idea that he knew anything when she left that case the day she bought it within reach of Henson. He gets her out of the way for a minute or two, he unties the parcel, and places the Van Sneck case in it. No, by Jove, he needn't have bought anything from Lockhart's at all. I only thought of that to account for the yellow string and the stamped paper that Lockhart's people use. He first takes one case out of the parcel and replaces it with another, and there you are. You may depend upon it that was the way in which it was done."

The more Chris thought over the matter the more certain she felt that such was the case. Like most apparently wonderful things, the explanation was absurdly simple. A conjurer's most marvellous tricks are generally the easiest.

"How foolish of us not to have thought of this before," Chris said, thoughtfully. "At any rate, we know all about it now. And we know who bought the cigar-case so promptly returned to Lockhart's by Henson. I should like to see this Rawlins."

"You have got to find him first," said Littimer.

"I'm going into Moreton Wells again to-morrow to make inquiries,"

said Chris.

But she was saved the trouble. Once more the ever-blessed telephone stood her in good stead. She was just on the point of starting for Moreton Wells when Steel called her up. Chris recognised him with a thrill of eager pleasure.

"You need not be afraid," she said. "You can speak quite freely. How is Van Sneck?"

"Very queer," David responded. "Bell hoped to have operated upon him before this, but such a course has not been deemed quite prudent. The day after to-morrow it will be, I expect. Henson has found out where Van Sneck is."

"Indeed. Has he been to see you?"

"He has been more than once on all kinds of ingenious pretences. But I didn't call you up to tell you this. We have been making inquiries at Walen's, Marley and myself. The time has come now to let Marley behind the scenes a bit."

"Did Walen's people know anything about the tall American?"

"Oh, yes. A tall American with a thin beard and a faint suggestion of small-pox called about a week before the great adventure, and asked to see some gun-metal diamond-mounted cigar-cases--like the one in Lockhart's window."

"Did he really volunteer that remark?"

"He did, saying also that Lockhart's were too dear. Walen's hadn't got what he wanted, but they promised to get some cases out of stock, which meant that they would go to the same wholesale house as Lockhart's and get some similar cases. As a matter of fact, one of Walen's a.s.sistants was sent round to study the case in Lockhart's window. The cases were procured on the chance of a sale, but the American never turned up again.

No notice was taken of this, because such things often happen to shopkeepers."

"And this was about a week before the night of the great adventure?"

"Yes. Wait a bit. I have not quite finished yet. Now, once I had ascertained this, an important fact becomes obvious. The American didn't want a cigar-case at all."

"But he subsequently purchased the one returned to Lockhart's shop."

"That remark does not suggest your usual ac.u.men. The American was preparing the ground for Van Sneck to purchase with a view to a subsequent exchange. You have not fully grasped the vileness of this plot yet. I went to Lockhart's and succeeded in discovering that the purchaser of the returned case was a tall American, quite of the pattern I expected. Then I managed to get on to the trail at the Metropole here. They recollected when I could describe the man; they also recollected the largeness of his tips. Then I traced my man to the Lion at Moreton Wells, where he had obviously gone to see Reginald Henson. From the Lion our friend went to the Royal at Scarsdale Sands, where he is staying at present."

"Under the name of John Smith?"

"I suppose so, seeing that all the inquiries under that name were successful. If you would like me to come up and interview the man for you--"

"I should like you to do nothing of the kind," Chris said. "You are more useful in Brighton, and I am going to interview Mr. John Smith Rawlins for myself. Good-bye. Just one moment. For the next few days my address will be the Royal Hotel, Scarsdale Sands."

Chris countermanded the dog-cart she had ordered and repaired to the library, where Littimer was tying some trout-flies behind a cloud of cigarette smoke.

"Thought you had gone to Moreton Wells," he said. "Been at the telephone again? A pretty nice bill I shall have to pay for all those long messages of yours."

"Mr. Steel pays this time," Chris said, gaily. "He has just given me some information that obviates the necessity of going into the town. My dear uncle, you want a change. You look tired and languid--"

"Depression of spirits and a disinclination to exercise after food. Also a morbid craving for seven to eight hours' sleep every night. What's the little game?"

"Bracing air," Chris laughed. "Lord Littimer and his secretary, Miss Lee, are going to spend a few days at Scarsdale Sands, Royal Hotel, to recuperate after their literary labours."

"The air here being so poor and enervating," Littimer said, cynically.

"In other words, I suppose you have traced Rawlins to Scarsdale Sands?"

"How clever you are," said Chris, admiringly. "Walen's American and Lockhart's American, with the modest pseudonym of John Smith, are what Mrs. Malaprop would call three single gentlemen rolled into one. We are going to make the acquaintance of John Smith Rawlins."

"Oh, indeed, and when do we start, may I ask?"

Chris responded coolly that she hoped to get away in the course of the day. With a great show of virtuous resignation Lord Littimer consented.

"I have always been the jest of fortune," he said, plaintively; "but I never expected to be dragged all over the place at my time of life by a girl who is anxious to make me acquainted with the choicest blackguardism in the kingdom. I leave my happy home, my cook, and my cellar, for at least a week of hotel living. Well, one can only die once."