BOTH Lord Delamarne and Larose were punctual at the rendezvous in the Norwich club on the following morning. They shook hands coldly, and Larose at once suggested they should have their talk in one of the cardrooms. “It will be quieter there and we shall be less likely to be interrupted.”

Seated comfortably before the fire, Lord Delamarne eyed the younger man intently, in a guarded half-suspicious way. Ex-policeman though Larose might be, his lordship had to admit there was an air of distinction about him and he noted he looked very capable and sure of himself.

Larose opened the conversation without any delay. “I take it, my lord,” he said, “that you keep yourself in touch with current affairs and so know all about the dreadful murders of some of those who were working upon the atom bomb and, later, that of Professor Glenowen?”

“I know what I’ve read in the newspapers,” commented his lordship dryly, “but I have no inside information.”

Larose smiled. “I hardly expected you would,” he said. He went on, “Now you were well acquainted with the late Professor Glenowen, were you not?”

Lord Delamarne inclined his head. “I have known him for more than twenty years,” he replied, “and he had many times, until of late years, been my guest at the castle.”

Larose came straight to the point. “Then it will surprise you,” he said sharply, “to be told there are the strongest reasons for believing that he instigated what are known as the atom bomb murders — the whole six of them.”

His lordship sat up with a jerk and his eyebrows came together in a heavy frown. “Instigated!” he exclaimed. “Do you mean caused them to be done?”

“Yes, paid for them,” said Larose calmly, “hired an assassin with huge sums to carry them out — picked the victims one by one, some only because they were working on the atom bomb, but others seemingly because he had a personal spite against them.” He shook his head. “I know it seems incredible, but everything points to its being an actual fact.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Lord Delamarne after a long pause. “Certainly I have always known Glenowen to be an excessively spiteful man, and admit that in the last year or so he appeared to have lost a lot of his mental balance, but to carry this spite to actual murder — well, I simply do not believe it. It’s impossible.”

“Well, you listen to me,” said Larose, “and you’ll soon realise how I came to the conclusions I did.” He proceeded to relate the many visits the dead man had paid to Carmel Abbey, his continual interest to the point of gloating over them in the murders that had been taking place, and finally, how his, Larose’s, suspicions had suddenly become aroused and how after patient investigation he had linked up the professor’s interest in one way or another with every one of the murdered men.

With his eyes intently fixed on the face of Larose, Lord Delamarne had listened, without interrupting to ask a question or say a single word. At length, Larose stopped speaking, evidently expecting some comment to be made, and his lordship said grimly, “But Glenowen was himself murdered! How do you account for that?”

“Murdered by the assassin he had himself called into being,” said Larose, “murdered by a shrewd, resolute and clever man who was far-seeing enough to realise that his employer, in his madness, had now become a dreadful danger to him,” and he proceeded to relate the next part of his story, now dealing with the maniacal excitement of Glenowen and the memoirs of his life which he had evidently been writing.

“But why are you telling me all this?” queried his lordship with some irritation. “In what way does it concern me?”

“For the very good reason,” replied Larose solemnly, “because it happens you are acquainted with Glenowen’s murderer. You know him quite well.”

His lordship’s face was a study of angry amazement, but he made no comment and Larose went on, “Yes and I have asked you to meet me like this because I want to warn you. I know this murderer, too, and I am afraid he may now be marking you down for some evil purpose of his own.” He shook his head. “Not necessarily murder this time, perhaps only robbery. Still, he’s a man who would stick at nothing.”

His lordship continued silent, and Larose said sharply, “Now, Lord Delamarne, you are known as a wealthy man and in the possession of many costly and beautiful things.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I won’t beat about the bush, but remind you frankly of the many rumours which you must be quite aware have been going about for years, to the effect that in the underground parts of your castle there are hidden treasures of incalculable value. Now”— and he lowered his voice to little above a whisper”— among your acquaintances or friends, among those to whom from time to time you have given the hospitality of the castle, can you think of any one of them who would fit the bill as a possible thief, or perhaps even worse than that if he turned his abilities into evil channels?”

“No, I can’t,” snapped out Lord Delamarne. “I am particular whom I choose as my friends.”

Larose ignored his denial. “Don’t answer so quickly, my lord,” he reproved sharply. “Just think if among those guests who have stayed at the castle there has been a bold and resolute man, very capable, and whose history, as far as you have learnt, suggests that he would hold the lives and property of others very cheaply. Come, surely you can pick him out at once.”

His lordship looked scornful. “I know whom you want me to pick out. You mean my nephew’s friend, Major Mangan.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Larose. “Major Mangan, the distinguished soldier who was decorated with the D.S.O., the one-time officer in a crack Commando unit who fought with the Resistance Movement in France and who, if you draw him out, will talk of his many personal killings among the Huns when with his little band of patriots he was working from the Auvergne Mountains. Yes, that’s the fine gentleman, and now I’ll tell you what has been happening to him lately.”

He related the many visits Mangan had paid to Professor Glenowen during the time the atom-bomb murders were going on, how he was known then to the professor’s servants as ‘Mr. Brown,’ how from the night of the professor’s murder he had vanished into the blue and for a long time could not be found, how he was finally tracked down by Scotland Yard, and finally, his, Larose’s conversation with him in his shop in Wardour Street when he threatened to get his revenge in due time.

And all the while Lord Delamarne had listened in an absorbed concentration. The scornful expression had gradually passed from his face, and towards the end he had begun to look very troubled. With Larose’s story apparently finished, speaking with an obvious effort, he said, “But you have really no evidence that anything is absolutely true, now have you, Mr. Larose?”

Larose shook his head. “No concrete evidence, my lord, and that is why Major Mangan is today walking about as free as you and I. All the evidence is circumstantial —” he spoke warmly, “but, Good God, how this circumstantial evidence piles up,” he took a photograph out of his pocket, “even to this last piece, which is certainly as damnable as anything.”

Lord Delamarne stared hard at the photo. “Of what is it?” he asked looking very puzzled.

“The lounge-hall at my place, Carmel Abbey,” said Larose “and those marks on the wall where two rifle bullets crashed into the plaster.” He spoke grimly. “Three nights ago, my lord, I was twice fired upon as I was entering my front door,” and he proceeded to relate everything that had happened there.

“What a dreadful tale, or rather series of tales, you have told me,” sighed Lord Delamarne. “It is true I know very little about this Major Mangan, and what I have learnt comes from my nephew Lieutenant Chester Avon. Still, he tells me the major moves in the best circles in Town and is of a high reputation. He says, too, he’s well-off, of independent means.”

“Independent means!” scoffed Larose. “Why, he is only an art and second-hand dealer in a small way and makes his living from that little shop I’ve just told you of in Wardour Street. For a long while, too, the police have been suspecting him of being a receiver of stolen goods. Several times they have raided the shop, though I admit they have not been able to catch him as yet.”

“Then does Scotland Yard want to make out that he is working with a gang?” frowned his lordship.

Larose shook his head. “No, they don’t say that. In the matter of the atom-bomb murders they at first thought that only he and Glenowen were involved in them, but later they realised the people of the Baltic Embassy were doing their utmost to prevent the major being traced and so, quite naturally, came to the conclusion they must be in it, too,” and he related to Lord Delamarne how it had been found out Captain Michaeloff and Mangan knew each other, and the false description the former had so deliberately given to ‘Mr. Brown!’

The old lord’s eyes were opened very wide now and he was moistening over his dry lips with his tongue. God! — and his daily, hourly fear for many weeks of late had been that the Baltic people were watching him and trying to find out what he had to hide! He had been so sure it was they who had sent that third party to him to make enquiries those months back about Colonel Rubin whom he had known so many years ago! Then, worst of all, he had been fearful again that it had been they who had planted that footman in the Castle as a spy, that Footman, Thomas, whom he had caught in his dirty work and — but he broke off his train of thought to ask abruptly, “Tell me, Mr. Larose, if you had caught that man who fired at you the other evening, what would you have done to him?”

“Shot him like a mad dog,” snarled Larose, “put an end to him without the slightest compunction!”

“And then,” queried his lordship curiously, “you would have told the police what had happened? In effect, you would have given yourself up?”

“Not I,” laughed Larose, “unless, of course, it were bound to become known I had shot him. If it were not, then after I had shot him and I should have come away, and left him just where he had fallen. I should have justified myself that, to the peril I had escaped, there was no need to add all the publicity and annoyance which would have benefited no one.”

“You mean then that you would have taken the law into your own hands,” asked his lordship, “and left it at that?”

“Exactly,” nodded Larose, “and my conscience would have been very clear.” He regarded his lordship intently. “But why do you ask?”

It appeared, however, that Lord Delamarne had not taken in the question, for he made no reply. A long silence followed, with him turning away his eyes from Larose and staring thoughtfully out of the window. At last he spoke hoarsely and with another effort.

“I am very grateful to you, Mr. Larose,” he said, “for all you have told me. It was very kind of you to take such interest in me.” He looked very troubled. “The whole matter means much more to me than you can have the slightest idea, in fact I realise I am in more danger than you would ever think. If it be true that Major Mangan is working with the Baltic Embassy, then I am in the hands of murderers. They are a vile lot these Baltic people and murder and assassination would be nothing to them.”

Larose spoke as sympathetically as he could. “I know that, my lord and am very sorry to hear you speak as you do. But if I can help you in any way, I shall be very pleased to do so.”

“I am sure of that,” said Lord Delamarne warmly — he hesitated a few moments “and I think you are about the only person I should dare tell my troubles to. Now, I can’t decide all at once. I must consider everything. Remember, I am an old man and can’t make up my mind as quickly as I used to.”

“Don’t hurry, my lord,” smiled Larose. “I am in no hurry. I have plenty of time.”

“But I mean I can’t decide straight off, today,” said his lordship. “I must go home and think everything over.” He hesitated. “Now, may I trespass more upon your kindness and meet you again somewhere tomorrow?”

“Anywhere you like,” nodded Larose, “if you make it nearer home, so that neither of us will have to come too far.”

His lordship considered a few moments. “Then what if I picked you up in my car in the main road just outside the gates of your drive? We could go to somewhere on the coast where no one is likely to see us.”

“That’ll do me,” said Larose, “and make it eleven o’clock.” He frowned. “But are you sure you can trust your chauffeur? Have you perfect confidence in him?”

His lordship smiled. “It isn’t a him, it’s a her, and she’s a young woman of twenty-four.”

“But have you had her for long?” asked Larose.

His lordship smiled again. “Only for a few weeks, but you need have no worry there as I knew both her parents. She can be trusted implicitly.”

The next morning it was a very different Lord Delamarne who picked up Larose at the appointed place. All his cares seemed to have passed from him and he looked untroubled and even smiling.

Penelope was introduced and Larose admired the pert and pretty face so interestedly regarding him. “Nothing to be afraid of there,” he told himself. “Quite trustworthy, very capable and very determined.” He suppressed a grin. “But, if I’m anything of a judge of character, if the old lord doesn’t look out, with all his grim and masterful ways; she’ll soon be getting the upper hand of him.”

They drove to a part of the coast not far from Sheringham, where at that time of year they had it all to themselves. Leaving Penelope in the car, the two men made their ways down the cliff and made themselves comfortable upon some big tussocks of seagrass at the bottom.

“Now, Mr. Larose,” began his lordship, “I’ve made up my mind to tell you everything and when you’ve heard what I have to say, I am quite sure you will understand my hesitation yesterday.” He drew in a deep breath. “Thirty years ago a trusted officer of the Czar Nicolas the Second, a Colonel Rubin, escaped from Russia bringing with him a very valuable portion of the Crown jewels. I had known him when as a young man I had been attached to the Baltic Embassy in St. Petersburg. To make a long story short, he came to stay with me at Blackarden Castle, and a few weeks after his arrival, however, he was stricken down with pneumonia and died, leaving the jewels in my possession in the Castle vaults.” He paused a few moments. “Now, have you taken all that in?”

Larose nodded and he went on. “With all the Russian royal family so foully murdered and their country in possession of the bloody assassins, there was no one to whom I thought I was justified in rendering up the jewels. So I retained them and kept them as a secret to myself. Of course it was known to the revolutionaries that Colonel Rubin had been entrusted with them to carry away to a place of safety, but, apparently, no trace of him had been picked up and no one knew what had become of him. I may mention here that we had every reason to believe that not one word of his coming to Blackarden had ever leaked out and so upon his death, unknown to everyone except a priest of his Church, he was buried with great secrecy in the dead of night in the Castle vaults. This priest and I had dug the ground ourselves.”

Lord Delamarne frowned. “Now, even had I been so basely inclined, there was no occasion for me to dispose of the jewels and make use of the money for myself. As it happened, I had other treasures of considerable value hidden away in the vaults. In the Indian Mutiny of 1857 my grandfather had acquired them in a way which was considered perfectly honourable and legitimate in those days, and I have been drawing upon it freely during all these later years of my life.” He smiled grimly. “So all along there has been some truth in the rumours about hidden treasure which I am perfectly aware have been going round.”

He went on, “The Czarist treasure, however, I regarded as a sacred trust and, not being able to hand it over to any rightful owner, very soon after its possession I began using it to mitigate the hardship of those who were suffering under the cruelty and harshness of the Bolshevik regime. Through secret channels I started selling the jewels, one by one so as not to attract attention, and giving the proceeds to societies who were helping the Russian refugees. This has now been going on for more than twenty-five years.”

“All along, too, I was feeling quite confident that by no possibility would the treasure be stolen, for, as I expect you have heard, access to the vaults is impossible to anyone unless he knows the secret of getting down there. Nearly a hundred years ago my grandfather walled off all the lower parts of the castle and the only stairway left is a secret one through a panel in one of the walls of my study.”

Lord Delamarne sighed heavily and his troubled look reappeared. “And so things were,” he continued, “up to about between four and five months ago, and then a bomb was thrown into all my so-fancied security and I realised that, even after all these years, my secret was not safe. One morning I had a visit from a man, obviously a foreigner I realised the moment I set eyes on him, who told me he was a Hungarian and a teacher of music by profession. He said he had but recently escaped from a concentration camp near Budapest and had been asked by some relatives of a Colonel Rubin to try to find out what had become of him after he had left Russia just before the Revolution. He, this Hungarian, had been sent expressly to me because Colonel Rubin had confided to these relations that he was intending to come to me directly he reached England.”

Lord Delamarne shook his head angrily. “I knew he was telling lies there, because at the time of his death Rubin had no relatives living, and again, engaged upon the highly secret mission that he was, he would have been the last person in the world to make known his intentions to anyone.”

He shook his head. “Of course, while thinking it wisest to admit I had known the Colonel, I denied emphatically that he had ever stayed at the Castle. I said, too, I had been acquainted with him so slightly that, after thirty years, I hardly remembered what he was like. Still, the man kept on asking me the same questions over and over again and I could see he didn’t believe me. At last, when I got rid of him, he left me in a state of very uneasy curiosity as to by whom he had been sent to question me. However, left in peace for a couple of months or so, I was confidently hoping I should be worried no more. Then a dreadful calamity happened. I caught one of my servants in the very act of tapping upon one of the walls of the study not far from where behind an oak panel, the stairway down to the vaults begins.”

His lordship’s face hardened and he went on grimly, “But the wretch never lived to pass on any discovery he might have made as —” he paused for a few moments “— he got what he deserved upon the spot.”

Larose gasped incredulously. “You don’t mean to tell me you killed him?” he asked.

Lord Delamarne nodded. “I do,” he said. “I struck him on the forehead with a heavy poker and he died instantly. He was not a robust-looking man and his bones must have been very thin, as I could feel the poker crash in.”

Larose gasped again and a short silence ensued, with Lord Delamarne regarding him with an amused smile. He went on, “It was in the middle of the night not far off two o’clock in the morning. I had not been able to get to sleep and, as I do, often I put on my dressing-gown and wandered round the Castle. Coming to the corridor into which my study opens, to my amazement I saw a light coming from under the door. More amazed still, I saw the door was not closed, but only pushed to. Almost holding my breath, I opened the door wider and put my head round.” He held up his hand impressively. “There was this footman standing, as I say, actually close to the oak panel behind which lies the stairway leading to the vaults. Thrust into both his ears were the plug-ends of the rubber tubes of a doctor’s stethoscope, and he was gently tapping upon the panel with his knuckles. I picked up a poker out of the grate and tiptoed towards him. For the moment, with his ears plugged as they were, he did not hear me coming, but then, turning round, one of his hands went like lightning to his hip-pocket and he sprang at me with a cry like that of a wild beast. I was too quick for him and struck as hard as I could at his head with the knobbed end of the poker.”

He paused in his story to ask dryly, “Is that what you would have done, Mr. Larose?”

Larose frowned. “I don’t know. I might have. Go on.” He nodded. “Yes, of course I should. It was not a time for hesitation.”

“For the moment,” continued his lordship, “I remember I was filled with a dreadful consternation at what I had done, but that feeling passed instantly into one of fury when I bent down over him and realised what he had been intending for me.” He nodded significantly. “The hand which he had thrust so quickly into his hip-pocket had got caught in the lining as it had been dragging out a vicious-looking knuckleduster. You see he was all prepared to go to any length if he was disturbed, so if my conscience had troubled me, I should have excused myself that I had acted in self-defence.”

“But what did you do next?” asked Larose. “You carried the body down into the vaults.”

“Yes, I took off his jacket and wrapped it round his head so that there should be no trail of blood, and half-carried and half-dragged it below.”

Larose looked troubled. “Then, if ever you were suspected and a search was made his body could soon be found.”

His lordship shook his head. “No, it is gone. It went within a few minutes of his death.”

“But where to,” asked Larose, very puzzled.

It seemed almost as if his lordship were repressing a smile. “I don’t know. No one ever will.”

Larose began to feel angry. He thought he was being fooled. “Is that meant to be a joke, my lord?” he asked with a frown.

“No, no,” replied Lord Delamarne quickly. “I assure you it is the actual truth. Even a thousand men such as you, Mr. Larose, could not find it now.” He bent forward. “There are many secrets about this grim old Castle of mine and one of them is that there is an underground river running underneath it, as in all certainty it has been running since the first stone of the castle walls was laid nearly seven hundred years ago. Down among the vaults there is what looks like a large well, but it is not a well, for at the bottom it opens into this river. You can lower a lantern nearly forty feet and see the black water passing by. When there have been heavy rains in the distant hills you can even hear it all through the vaults gurgling as it goes along.” He nodded. “I tipped the body in it and in a moment it was gone.”

“Good heavens,” exclaimed Larose. “I’d like to see that well.”

“You shall,” said his lordship. “Directly this trouble has quieted down I’ll show you over everything and you’ll be greatly interested.”

“But has no one ever tried to find out to where it goes?” asked Larose, very interested.

“Not in my time, or that of my father or his father before, him,” said his lordship. “It has been taken for granted and the whole mystery left alone. However, it has always been thought by the very few who have been in the secret that it must finish up somewhere under the Ely marshes, as even in the longest droughts they never become dry.” He looked very troubled. “But now to get back to this matter of it being suspected I may be still in possession of the Russian Crown jewels. What do you think of the whole position?”

“Was that footman a foreigner?” asked Larose.

“Certainly not! He was English right enough, and always struck me as being educated and much above the servant class.”

“Well, I think it serious, very serious,” replied Larose. He smiled. “I know it won’t frighten you, as I don’t think anything really would, but has the idea never entered into your mind that whoever are after these jewels may take a short cut and get hold of you to make you speak.”

“You mean kidnapping and then torture?” said his lordship. He nodded. “Yes, I have, but then I very seldom leave the precincts of the castle grounds and there is always help from my men-servants within call.” He patted his hip-pocket. “Besides, I am always armed. I always carry a Mawson automatic with me.”

“Good,” said Larose, “and, if you are ever cornered, don’t be slow in using it. Remember — if it is this Baltic crowd who are after you, they are desperate men. They would kidnap you, torture you to make you speak and then without the slightest pity, kill you so that there should be no witnesses against them.”

“Don’t worry,” said his lordship, “I shall be all ready to shoot first and think afterwards.” He frowned. “But now about this Major Mangan. Granted he’s all you make him out to be, there is not the slightest evidence as yet that these Baltic people have put him on to me. Don’t forget he has been coming to the Castle, on and off for over a year, and now, upon this visit of his in a few days, it is not he who has sought me out but I who have invited him to visit me. Then how does that fit in with your idea that his coming means more danger to me?”

“Put in that way,” agreed Larose readily, “I know it doesn’t fit in at all, but considered from a different angle it suggests a deadly prospect. You tell me you have reason to believe that the Baltic Government is plotting against you — I have absolute proof they are upon friendly and even criminal terms with this Major Mangan — then if you are right about their plotting I, also am right about the danger to you.”

Lord Delamarne shook his head. “No, you cannot be so certain there.” He regarded Larose intendy. “Is it not possible that with a secret as great as this they have not dared to trust him, and so he knows nothing about it?”

A long silence followed and Larose shrugged his shoulders. “It is possible, and yet, knowing him to be the bold and evil man that he is, could anything better fit in with any plot to get hold of those jewels than to have such a confederate inside the Castle?”

“Well, I shall risk it,” snapped his lordship, “and let him pay his visit in the ordinary way. I am now all prepared for anything which may happen and if more trouble is coming to me I want to bring it to a head.” He spoke decisively. “You must realise, Mr. Larose, I don’t want to live what remains of my life with his sword hanging over me. If I become certain that the danger, as I hoped, is not finished with the death of that footman, then I shall transfer every scrap of both my treasures into the safe custody of some bank and be done with the worry once and for all. The continued anxiety is too great for an old man.”

“Then you would like to believe,” said Larose thoughtfully, “that that footman was not after the Crown jewels.”

His lordship hesitated. “I was hoping so,” he said. “I was thinking he was just an ordinary thief who was coming after my valuable silver which is common knowledge I keep down in the vaults.”

Larose considered. “But aware as you are now, my lord, that it is possible Major Mangan may be working with the Baltic Embassy, can’t you see what a great risk you are running in receiving the major into the Castle as a guest?”

“But what can he do by himself?” asked his lordship testily. “He can’t let anyone into the house on the quiet when we are all supposed to be in bed and asleep, as the alarms upon all the doors and windows on the ground floor, which are the only ones which matter, would prevent it. Every night at eleven I see these alarms are all set and no one can tamper with any one of them without starting the whole lot ringing. I designed them myself and I alone know how to operate them. All connected up together, they are electrically controlled from a master-switch in my bedroom.”

“It sounds all right,” said Larose, “but ——”

“Then if anyone did manage to get into the castle,” went on his lordship, “short of breaking down the door, he couldn’t get into the study, as the lock there is a special one.”

“But the footman got in,” frowned Larose.

“Ah, but that was carelessness upon my part. I am sure I had not closed the door properly. Unhappily, I am inclined to do silly things like that, but now this secretary of mine comes everywhere with me at night to make sure I do not do such a thing again.”

“What exactly does this girl know?” asked Larose.

“That my valuable silver is kept down in the vaults and how to get down there by the secret stairway. I thought it wisest to tell her that because of the possibility of being taken ill one day when I had gone down there, as usual, all by myself. Now I am going to trust her still more and warn her I am expecting an attempt may be made to rob me and that Major Mangan may be involved in it.”

“And when is the major actually coming upon his visit?”

“Next Monday for four days to have a last go at the pheasants. There will be two other guns besides him and my nephew. No, he doesn’t know these other men. They are very old friends of mine and live in the Midlands. He has never met them. They go away on the Friday, but the major is staying a day longer and returns to Town on the Saturday morning.”

“Then as I take it,” said Larose, “if there really is a plot being hatched to get hold of the jewels, Mangan’s part in it will be only to get the thieves into the Castle. It will be they, and not he, who know where to find them.”

“That is it,” nodded his lordship. “After what you have told me, Mangan can have been brought only lately into the conspiracy.”

They talked on for some time, with Larose’s final warning that, if Lord Delamarne should notice anything suspicious about Mangan’s actions, he was to ring up him, Larose, at once. “No, it’s no trouble at all,” he said. “If only for my own safety I want to lay him by the heels.”

Going back to the car, Larose suggested they should return by way of the coast road so that they could pass the late professor’s bungalow. “I’m rather curious there,” he said, “as it has been sold privately and no one seems to know who’s bought it. The buyer went to see Glenowen’s sister, just asked the price and paid for it upon the nail, all in ￡5 notes. He gave no address, but said his name was Jenkins.”

Coming within sight of the bungalow, they saw a man leaning over the garden fence, watching some sailing boats out to sea through a pair of glasses. Penelope was driving the car with both Lord Delamarne and Larose at the back. Seeing the man in the distance, more by instinct than anything else, Larose shrank into his corner and pulled his cap well down over his face. Upon them approaching nearer to the bungalow, apparently hearing the sound of the car, the man turned his glasses upon them.

Something familiar in his attitude struck Larose and a few moments later he whispered hoarsely to Lord Delamarne, “The devil! It’s that attache from the Embassy I told you about, that Captain Michaeloff. Take a good eye-full of him in case he ever comes your way.”

Some twenty yards or so before drawing level with him the man lowered his glasses and fixed his eyes upon them with a hard and intent stare. It was over in a few seconds and they had passed by. Through the window at the back of the car, much to the relief of Larose, he saw the man had returned to watching the sailing-boats out to sea.

“And what do you make of that?” asked Larose rather exultingly of his lordship who was frowning hard.

“If you are perfectly sure it was the man from the Embassy,” said Lord Delamarne, “I don’t like it over-much. It may go to confirm so much of what you have been telling me.”

“Oh, it was Captain Michaeloff right enough,” said Larose.

“There’s no mistaking those horse teeth and that long face of his. Still, it may be only just a coincidence. Our Secret Service has been well aware that he and Glenowen used to visit each other in Town and, probably, the captain has been a visitor to the bungalow here as well. So, it isn’t unreasonable to suppose that if he had taken a fancy to it, he would buy it when it came into the market. He would certainly get it very cheaply.”

“But the Russian Crown jewels in my Castle,” said his lordship, looking very troubled, “and now those who would give so much to obtain them only such a few miles away. Surely the vultures are gathering for the carcase?”

“Well, if they have, they’ve come jolly early,” laughed Larose, “as it is not until next week friend Mangan is going to appear.” He shook his head. “No, my lord, don’t become pessimistic, a lot may happen before these vultures you mention may get anything in their beaks and then, maybe, they won’t be in a condition to enjoy it.”

Having dropped Larose where they had picked him up, Lord Delamarne moved over in the car to sit beside Penelope. For some minutes they drove on in silence and then his lordship asked casually, “and I suppose you’ve heard of Mr. Larose?”

“Who hasn’t?” nodded Penelope. “Besides, Vera has told me a lot about him.”

“Vera!” frowned his lordship. “But what on earth made her bring him up to you?”

“Because she thinks now that I am a detective,” said Penelope. She laughed merrily. “It is really very funny. At first she was intensely jealous of your confiding so much in me, as she guesses I have been down into the vaults with you. She couldn’t make it out. Then all suddenly she said light came to her and she realised I was a woman detective. She thinks now you have brought me here, either to help guard your priceless silver or else to clear up the mystery of that footman’s disappearance.”

“Has she questioned you?” he asked sharply.

“Oh, yes, a lot! But I said I had sworn to keep everything secret and so I have told her nothing. She’s quite satisfied now and has stopped asking any more questions. I’ve made her promise most solemnly not to give me away to anyone, not even to Joan.”

“H’m!” said his lordship, and after a few moments he asked, “I suppose you can guess why I didn’t want anyone to know why I was meeting Mr. Larose this morning?”

Penelope nodded. “Yes, it’s something to do with those thieves whom you expect may some day try to rob you of your silver collection.”

“Yes, and one whom we have reason to suspect,” he said dryly, “may be among the visitors who are coming to stay with me for the shooting in a few days.” He smiled grimly. “I shall want you to watch him.”

Penelope was thrilled. “Oh, how exciting! I shall love that. I’ve always fancied I should make a good detective as I note everything about everyone.”

“And what have you noted about me?” he asked with a frown.

Penelope laughed again. “For one thing you are inclined to be suspicious about every car that comes near us. When we are meeting or passing one I notice your hand goes to your hip-pocket, as if you had got a pistol there.” She went on. “But tell me who’s this visitor whom you will be wanting me to watch?”

“A friend of my nephew’s, I regret to say,” he said, “a Major Mangan, a distinguished soldier!”

“Major Mangan!” she exclaimed, very surprised. “Oh, I know him, or rather I’ve seen him. Tall, dark and good-looking, and his hair is always plastered well down. At one time he used to come into the ‘Rialto’ quite a lot. Besides, I heard about him in my Society journalist days.”

“What did you hear about him?” frowned his lordship.

“Nothing much to his credit,” she said. “He’s a regular man about Town, plays cards for high stakes, and they say he’s always to be seen with men richer than himself.”

His lordship looked uneasy. “Then you shall keep your eyes upon him when he’s about here —” he spoke sternly “— but mind you, not a word about it to my nephew, as I’m not quite certain Chester can keep a secret.”

“But you’re wrong there, my lord,” said Penelope instantly. “When he likes, Mr. Avon can be as sensible as anybody. You’re prejudiced against him because he’s been tied to his mother’s apron strings for so long.”

Lord Delamarne made no comment and the conversation died down. Arriving back at the Castle, rather to his lordship’s surprise because it was so early in the week, he saw his nephew’s car parked in the drive. The old man gave Penelope a hard searching glance, but she looked placid and unruffled and as if the car being there was of no interest to her.

“Did you know he was coming here today?” he asked sharply.

“Who coming?” she asked. “Oh, Mr. Avon!” She shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t tell me.” She smiled roguishly. “We are not as interested in each other as much as all that.”

Still Lord Delamarne noticed it was a very bright smile young Avon gave the pretty secretary. “I’ve got a fortnight’s leave, sir,” he said to his uncle, “and thought I’d get my eye in for the long-tails next week by having a pot at the rabbits.”

It was quite a happy week for Penelope, and, with her duties light and her employer allowing her plenty of freedom, she saw plenty of the heir of Blackarden Castle. In her own mind she had no doubt she was now getting him well in tow, though chances of any love-making were very few as Joan or Vera were always about. Still, upon two occasions they managed to exchange kisses in the conservatory, picquancy being added to them the second time by knowing Lord Delamarne was just outside talking to one of the gardeners.

Holding to her settled plan of campaign, she made very light of the kisses and never appeared to be too willing for them. “Don’t you see, Boy,” she whispered, “if we get caught it will only mean that I shall be sent away, and the kissing isn’t worth it. There’s no background behind it for me. It’s only just a pleasant little interlude,” and he whispered back to her not to be so brutal.

The day before the shooting party was due to arrive, Penelope was alone with Lord Delamarne in their little office, and the latter remarked frowningly. “Now, young lady, I shall be depending a lot upon you these next few days. I want you to pay a lot of attention to this Major Mangan. You understand?”

“No, I don’t,” said Penelope instantly. “What exactly are you expecting me to do?”

His lordship spoke impressively. “As I have told you, I imagine him to be the spy Mr. Larose is expecting him to be and that he is working with that man we saw in the garden of Professor Glenowen’s bungalow the other day. So, put yourself in his place and think what you would do. To begin with, you would want to find out how you could get a confederate into the Castle at night when everyone was in bed. You would be interested in the alarms upon the doors and windows, and would like to find out how they work, so that you could tamper with them from inside. You would be interested in what times we all went up to our rooms. You understand now, don’t you?”

Penelope nodded. “You mean I am to notice if he seems curious about little things that would not interest the ordinary person?”

“That’s it,” said his lordship. “Curious about little things. Then we don’t know if that footman who left so suddenly had any suspicions that the secret stairway down into the vaults lead out of my study.” He eyed her intently. “On the face of it, that seems probable, for if someone hadn’t found out something about that stairway there would be no sense in breaking into the Castle and then not know what to do next.”

Penelope made a grimace. “It all seems horrible to me,” she said, “as if we were standing upon the brink of some dreadful precipice.”

“It may be we are,” commented his lordship, looking however, quite cheerful, “but, forewarned, as we are we shan’t be the ones to fall over it. Mr. Larose is all ready to come here at once if I give him a call.” He went on. “So assuming these possible thieves know something about that secret stairway, they will be very interested in my study, and in that case Major Mangan will try to get a look round there whenever he can.” He frowned. “What it all amounts to is that we shall have to keep an eye on his movements all the time he’s here.” A thought struck him. “Of course you will not mention about the major to my nephew.”

“Of course I shan’t,” said Penelope indignantly. “Whatever Mr. Avon’s gifts may be, he’s no actor and if he were in our confidence Major Mangan would guess from his manner that something was going on against him.” She laughed. “The other day I asked Mr. Avon not to stare at me so hard or you all might begin to think he was getting unduly interested in me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But it didn’t make any difference. He stares at me just the same.”

“So I have noticed,” remarked his lordship dryly, and he asked sharply. “Has he kissed you yet?”

Penelope regarded him reproachfully. “What a question to put to me, my lord! Do you forget you were young yourself once?”

“That’s no answer to my question,” frowned his lordship.

Penelope looked amused. “Well, as that is a strictly private matter,” she said, “I don’t consider I am obliged to tell you the truth.” Her eyes twinkled. “So my answer, my lord, is in the negative.”

Lord Delamarne smiled back. “Well, I’m only telling you for your own good. I believe my nephew is very casual in his dealings with young women and no matter what kisses he may give you he’ll never want you for his wife.”

“I know that, my lord,” agreed Penelope promptly. “I may be all right to flirt with and not the kind of woman he’d like to have ordering him about.” She spoke sharply. “He knows I’d stop half of his forty cigarettes a day and most of his double whiskies.”

The following day just in time for lunch, the three expected visitors duly arrived, two of them together from Leicester and the Major from Town. Penelope was greatly impressed with the Major and thought his manners and general bearing charming.

Joan had told Penelope he would talk to each of the three girls as if he were in love with her and, in spite of her customary self-assurance, his compliments to Penelope, given in such a tactful way that no one could take an exception to them, made it difficult for her not to blush.

“But you mustn’t talk to Miss Smith like that,” laughed Joan, when it happened once that Lord Delamarne was not present. “As I tell everyone, Father is the only man here allowed to admire her. She’s only been in the Castle a few weeks and yet she’s more in his confidence than anyone else.” She looked slily at Penelope. “Sometimes they are shut up together for hours in that musty old study of his,” and Penelope would have liked to have slapped Joan’s face for being such a little fool.

In the afternoon it had started to rain hard and there were no outdoor amusements. So everyone adjourned into one of the long sheds in the Castle grounds and they had a shooting competition with pistols.

The major and young Avon had both got their own pistols and, lending them round, quite an interesting contest ensued. As was expected the major won, but, rather to everyone’s and particularly Lord Delamarne’s astonishment, Avon was only a few points behind.

“You’ve come on a lot lately, haven’t you?” queried his lordship of his nephew.

“But I’ve always been pretty good, sir,” replied Avon. “At Aldershot I was the best in our mess,” and, from his lordship’s expression, Penelope realised his nephew had gone up in his estimation.

The shooting match over, the major insisted he must take all their photographs in the big lounge hall. “I’ve brought my daylight developer with me as well as my camera,” he said smilingly. “So I can run through the whole thing at once, and there’ll be no waiting for any of you to see how good-looking you all are.”

So, taking great care that they were all standing exactly as he wanted them, he posed them with their backs to the age-old massive front door, and, later, gave them a clear and very good little snap. Everyone was enthusiastic except Penelope who for some reason appeared to be very thoughtful.

Dinner that evening was a very merry one, with the gallant major undoubtedly the star guest and at his best as a raconteur of witty stories. Many times during the meal the old lord was feeling very puzzled. One moment he was regarding Mangan as a consummate actor and the next — he was anathematising Gilbert Larose as a consummate fool.

At the usual hour of eleven o’clock that night, accompanied now, as a matter of general routine by Penelope to see that he omitted nothing, Lord Delamarne made the rounds of the ground floor of the Castle to be certain everything was in order for the night. The round completed, he remarked to Penelope with a slow, sarcastic smile, “Nothing to report as yet, Miss Smith? No suspicious actions of our amusing friend?”

“Nothing much,” replied Penelope casually, “except that I notice in those snaps he got an excellent picture of the wiring of the big alarm upon the front door. Of course it may have been only just a coincidence but, with one of those snaps in his hand, there would be no need for anyone to be seen studying closely how the wires are laid,” and his lordship’s sarcastic smile at once changed into a heavy frown.

And certainly a little while later, Lord Delamarne would have frowned more heavily still had he been able to see what the Major was doing when the latter had retired to his bedroom for the night. With one of his snap-shots in one hand and a carefully drawn diagram in the other, he was interestedly comparing the two. Apparently his inspection was satisfactory, as he was smiling happily when he placed them in a wallet, and locked the wallet up in one of the large suit-cases he had brought with him.

The following day nothing was seen of the shooting party from breakfast-time until they returned home at dusk. Then the Major made himself as agreeable as ever and in the hour before dinner went with Penelope into the picture gallery to admire the painting there.

“What a wonderful artist this chap Botticelli was,” he remarked as they stood before the painting of a beautiful young girl admiring her reflections in a pool. “Note the intense poetic feeling he’s put into this child’s face, innocent, virginal and yet withal the passion which would one day be awakened when a lover came her way. Yes, it’s a wonderful piece of art.”

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” agreed Penelope. “A pity the girl couldn’t always remain like that.”

“Not at all!” laughed Mangan. “We all have to run one predestined path and life would be very barren if it were all promise and no fulfilment.” He changed the conversation. “Talking about wonders — what a wonderful old chap the old lord is, even now as full of energy as I expect he was twenty years ago. But then I expect he takes good care of himself! Does he sleep soundly at night, do you know?” and he proceeded to ask several more questions which seemed to suggest both to Penelope and his lordship to whom she related the conversation later, that he was trying to find out if he, Lord Delamarne, would be hearing any movements about the Castle at night.

And that and the matter of the snap-shot were the only things that kept suspicion alive in Lord Delamarne’s mind until the fourth evening of Major Mangan’s visit to the Castle and then the old lord got a nasty shock. He had no longer any doubt that Mangan was working with the Baltic Embassy.

After dinner that evening the Major announced he had got a bit of a headache and, as it was a fine night, would like to go for a sharp walk. As an after-thought, he asked if he could borrow a bicycle. Provided with a machine, he declined young Avon’s offer to accompany him, and promising to be back well before eleven, the time when the Castle was closed for the night, set off by himself.

Directly he had gone Lord Delamarne made a sign to Penelope to follow him from the room. He looked very troubled. “Miss Smith,” he said sharply, “I believe he’s gone to see those men at the professor’s bungalow. I want you to bicycle there to try and find out. If you use the bye-roads it can’t be more than seven miles and you should do it in an hour. Do you mind going?”

Penelope’s heart beat very fast, but she replied readily-enough, “Not at all, my lord. It will be very exciting.”

“But, for Heaven’s sake you mustn’t let him see you,” went on his lordship quickly. “Remember, if he has gone there it is proof he is an evil man.” He hesitated a moment. “No, I don’t like sending you. It may mean real danger to you.”

“But I don’t mind,” said Penelope grimly. “I’ll risk it and I’ll dress myself so that if he does meet me on the road he won’t recognise me in passing. I’ll put Joan’s dark overalls over my clothes and do up my head in a shawl. You see, he won’t be expecting anyone has followed him and so won’t be suspicious.” She looked anxious. “But how can I get near the bungalow without being seen? As well as I remember it’s so open all round.”

“Approach it by the way he won’t be going,” said his lordship, “by the way we came in the car the other day. Don’t go nearer than about fifty yards and hide with your bicycle among the marsh grass at the side of the road. I’ll give you a pair of glasses to take with you and you can watch the bungalow through them.”

“And how long am I to wait there?” asked Penelope.

“Until about a quarter past ten,” replied his lordship. “He’ll not dare to stay a minute later than that if he’s to be back here by eleven.” The habitual sternness of his face for the moment passed away and he went on hoarsely, “It’s not a girl’s work I am giving you and Heaven forgive me if any harm comes to you. Here — take this pistol of mine with you. Do you know how to use it?”

“Yes, I’ve shot several times with Mr. Avon’s,” she nodded, and she hoped he would not note the blush which had come into her face.

“And if you’re threatened,” he said sharply, “don’t hesitate a second before you fire. You’ll have the advantage there, for, even if they recognise you, they won’t expect you to be armed,” and his last words were, “If you’re not back within half an hour of Major Mangan’s return I’ll come in the car to see what’s happened to you.”

It was a thrilling ride for Penelope and she was panting far more from excitement than from exercise when finally she and her bicycle were hidden among the coarse high tussles of grass within fifty yards of the bungalow. It was a beautiful still night with a half moon showing and just a touch of frost in the air. The sea was only a few yards from her and the lapping of its waves and the cries of the marsh birds were the only sounds that came to her ears. She thought how strange life was, all peace and quiet and beauty about her and yet so near were probably evil men upon whom in a few moments she might have to try to inflict a dreadful form of death if her own safety was in danger.

She could see light behind the drawn blinds of the windows of the bungalow.

Five, ten minutes passed and she began to get impatient and even disappointed that nothing was happening. Perhaps, it was all a mistake! Those at the bungalow might be harmless and innocent people and Major Mangan might not have come there at all! Perhaps, everything was a mistake, with the Major being harmless, too, and it being in no one’s mind to break into the Castle! Then she would have been sent upon a fool’s errand and had all her trouble and excitement for nothing!

She withstood her doubts for a few more minutes and then, rising to her feet, proceeded to walk stealthily towards the bungalow. The soft sand deadened all sounds of her footsteps.

Arriving level with the bungalow, she heard men’s voices inside, and someone laughed. She looked round and then her heart almost stopped beating as she saw a bicycle propped up against the side of the bungalow. Hesitating a few moments, she was about to return to her hiding-place when a thought struck her. Greatly daring, she tiptoed up the short garden path and put her hand upon the extinguished lamp on the bicycle. It was quite warm, and so it’s light could have been put out for only a very few minutes. To add to the certainty that the bicycle was the one that Major Mangan had been riding, she suddenly heard him speaking in the bungalow.

A great fear of the danger she was in surged through her. She remembered the warning Lord Delamarne had so recently given and realised now he must have been keeping back so much of what he knew. So if she were caught, these men of evil might shoot her with the callousness they would a dog.

Then, too scared to stay to listen to what was being said in the bungalow, she darted back on to the road. Turning to run to where her bicycle was hidden, her eyes fell suddenly upon a garage in the yard. It’s doors were yawning wide and the moon showed up clearly a big car just inside. It was jacked up in the front and close near upon the ground lay a wheel and an inner tube. The bonnet of the engine had been taken off and was propped up against one of the doors. A number of tools were scattered about upon a sheet of canvas spread upon the ground. “So I’m all right there,” she breathed, “Even if I’m seen they can’t follow me in that.”

In a few seconds she was back in her hiding-place and her watch had commenced again. Happily, however, it did not last long this time, for very soon the door of the bungalow opened and three men came out. Focussing her glasses upon them, though really it wasn’t necessary, she recognised one as Major Mangan and another as the tall man with the horselike teeth whom she had seen those few days back when she had been passing the bungalow in Lord Delamarne’s car.

Their voices came up clearly on the still frosty air. “Damn you,” she heard Mangan say angrily, “I was so reckoning upon getting a lift back with my bicycle nearly all the way; I am so sore and stiff now that the riding will be purgatory.”

“Sorry, old man,” laughed Captain Michaeloff, “but, as I say, with the light in the garage gone bung, we can’t do anything more to the car until the morning. There are two or three hours work to put everything right.” He spoke sharply. “Now have you taken everything in. You are just to do your little bit and then fade out of the picture altogether. We can’t have you coming into the limelight as, if we meet with no success this time, we may want you again.”

Mangan rode off grumbling, sitting as lightly upon the saddle as he could to ease the soreness brought on by his unaccustomed riding on a bicycle. He was furiously angry.

And his feelings would have been far worse than those of anger had he but heard what the two men were saying when they were back in the bungalow! “After all, I’ve come not to trust that fellow,” scowled Captain Michaeloff, “and so we’ll let him know as little as we can. He’ll get no blasted ten per cent whatever happens. We’ll make out we found nothing.”

“I don’t trust him, either,” agreed the other. “He’s just the sort of chap to double-cross us and cut our throats if he gets half a chance.”

Mangan reached the Castle a few minutes before eleven outwardly as smiling and good-humoured as ever, but inwardly in a black rage and cursing deeply at his soreness.

Penelope was only just behind him and, indeed at the end of the journey, had to slow down so that she should not overtake him in the drive. Lord Delamarne listened to her story with a dry mouth and most uncomfortable feeling of alarm. He expressed his gratitude to her. “You’ve done splendidly, my dear,” he said warmly. He nodded significantly. “And I won’t forget it.”

The other three men were still playing cards and Mangan sat down and joined in some poker. Seeing the coast was clear, Lord Delamarne went into the cabinet and rang up Larose to whom he related everything that had happened. The one-time detective was quite cheerful about it.

“Now we know exactly where we are,” he said, “and with any luck we ought to be able to catch them all red-handed. From the scrap of conversation your girl overheard they are evidently quite confident of being able to get into the Castle. So it evidently looks as if Mangan had found some way of short-circuiting those electric alarms.”

“But I could lock him in his room,” said Lord Delamarne, “and the ——”

“But that would be no good,” said Larose instantly, “as it would leave the whole matter in the doubtful condition it is now and you wouldn’t learn who were your enemies, and would have to go on worrying all your life. No, let them actually get into the Castle and we’ll grab the Major at the same time and he’ll get a long sentence, too.”

“Then we shall want plenty of help,” said Lord Delamarne, apparendy in no way alarmed by the grim prospect before him.

“Well you’ve got your nephew and the three men-servants,” said Larose, “but don’t say a word to any of them until the last moment when we get them out of their beds.”

“The blackguards are not likely to come tonight,” said his lordship, “with their car in the condition my secretary says it is.”

“No, and it may be in their minds, too,” said Larose, “to wait until these other two visitors of yours have gone away.” He hesitated a few moments. “But look here, Lord Delamarne, would you rather call in the police and let them handle the whole thing?”

“No, no,” exclaimed his lordship at once. “I don’t want that. It would mean I would have to explain how it was I knew they were coming, and too many questions would be asked, with too much publicity all round.”

“That’s what I think,” said Larose, “and we all ought to be competent enough to manage the whole thing by ourselves. After all, there’ll be only three of them to deal with, and, taken unawares, we should be able to down them easily. Then, when they’re all trussed up we’ll call in the police.”

“And when will you be coming over to the Castle?” asked Lord Delamarne.

“Upon the tick of midnight,” replied Larose, “I’ll be waiting outside the main door for you to let me in. I don’t think for a minute that these gentry will turn up before one or two, and we’ll give them no chance to put up a fight. In a way that’ll be rather a pity, for I’d dearly love a good excuse to use my gun,” and Lord Delamarne came away from the phone thinking what a blood-thirsty customer the one-time detective was.