Bodies from the Library Read online

  ‘Autonia!’

  ‘Well, all right, daddy. You can’t help my knowing. How do you do?’

  She extended a small gloved hand to Linckes, who took it, and stammered something that seemed to him inane.

  ‘I hope you’ll solve the mystery,’ Tony said. ‘You don’t look frightfully Sherlock Holmes-y, you know!’

  She smiled mischievously. It was then that Linckes’ heart changed hands.

  Then he took his leave of them and went out, all thoughts obscured for the moment by the picture of Miss Autonia Caryu sitting on a table with her slim ankles crossed, and a friendly smile on her beautiful red lips.

  III

  Nearly three months slipped by, and found Linckes disgruntled. Caryu had been very kind to him. So, too, had Caryu’s daughter.

  He was a little puzzled by Winthrop. He had been drawn to him from the very first, but he was at a loss to understand his moods. One day Sir Charles would be flippant and gay, the next irritable and restless; he was sometimes most inconsequent and absent-minded. Yet with all this nervous temperament he was undoubtedly clever, always charming, and an eminently responsible person. Once Linckes spoke tentatively to Tony about him, and the girl had laughed.

  ‘Oh, Charlie’s an extraordinary man!’ she had said. ‘A perfect darling, but quite mad! They think an awful lot of him at the War House, you know. Under that flippant manner of his there’s heaps and heaps of brain. Everybody loves him, but he’s a dreadful trial!’

  ‘A trial?’ had asked Linckes. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, he’s so—so moody. And he will forget things. Sometimes he’ll say a thing to me and contradict it within an hour. When I tease him about it, he just laughs and says, “Oh, did I? That was just hot air, then.” It’s a pose, I think. He used not to do it so much.’

  Linckes eyes narrowed.

  ‘Funny! Doesn’t seem quite to fit in with his reputation, somehow.’

  ‘That’s why I say it’s a pose,’ Tony had answered triumphantly. ‘’Cos really he’s a most capable person. Daddy says he’s got a huge grip on affairs. And—and now this beastly traitor business has cropped up, and if you can’t solve the mystery it means Charlie and daddy’ll be under a sort of cloud, and it’s—it’s such a shame! I mean, everyone who knows Charlie knows that he’s such a—such a splendid man! Why, look at the things he did during the war! Daddy says he was simply wonderful! Mr Linckes, please do try and solve the mystery! I’d—I’d like to put the man who did the thing in boiling oil! I would!’

  ‘Of course I’m going to try my hardest to get to the bottom of it all,’ Linckes said. He tried to speak carelessly. ‘I—I suppose you’re awfully fond of Sir Charles?’

  At that Tony had opened her eyes wide.

  ‘Well, naturally. He’s like a dear elder brother, and I’ve known him ever since I was a kid.’

  Linckes’ depressed spirits suddenly soared high. A little colour stole up to the roots of his brown hair.

  ‘You bet I’ll never rest till I’ve found the man who’s doing the dirty on us all!’ he said impulsively. ‘Would you—er—Would you be pleased if I discovered who it is, Miss Caryu?’

  Tony had become suddenly interested in her shoe-buckles.

  ‘I—I hope you’ll do the deed, certainly,’ she answered.

  Linckes took his courage in both hands.

  ‘I mean to. And—and if I do succeed I’m going to ask you a question, Tony.’

  ‘Oh—oh, are you?’ had said Tony in a small voice.

  Not many days after his conversation with Tony, Linckes presented himself at Winthrop’s house, with nothing at all to report. He found Sir Charles writing at his desk. He barely looked up at Linckes’ entry, and the detective knew that one of his black moods was upon him.

  ‘Oh, hallo!’ said Sir Charles. ‘Sit down! Any news?’

  ‘Not much. The butler is now wiped off the list of possibles.’

  ‘Well, I never thought he was a possible.’ Winthrop pushed his chair back impetuously. ‘I’m dead sick of the whole business! The wretched culprit, whoever he is, is just one too many for us.’

  ‘I’m dashed if he is!’ Winthrop’s ill-humour seemed to react on Linckes. ‘Hang it all, he must give himself away some time!’

  ‘Why? He hasn’t done it so far.’

  ‘Pretty soon he’ll be trying to bring off another little coup,’ said Linckes savagely, ‘and then I’ll get him!’

  ‘Hope you will, that’s all I can say. Help yourself to a cigarette.’

  Winthrop pushed the box across to Linckes, taking out a cigarette himself. He lit it, and began to smoke in silence.

  Linckes glanced at him idly, and suddenly a furrow appeared between his brows. It struck him that Winthrop was smoking in a curious way, rather as though he were puffing at a pipe. Usually he inhaled with almost every breath, sending the smoke out through his delicately chiselled nostrils.

  ‘If I didn’t know you loathed pipes, I should say you were in the habit of smoking one,’ remarked Linckes.

  The dark eyes looked an inquiry.

  ‘You’re treating that unfortunate cigarette as though it were one,’ Linckes explained.

  Winthrop laughed, throwing the cigarette into the fire.

  ‘Am I? Well, I’m worried. I suppose it’s a nervous trick. I feel inclined to do something desperate. If only there were a clue!’

  Linckes sighed.

  ‘It’s all so hazy,’ he complained. ‘You can’t even know for certain that the plans of the submarines were sold. You, can’t prove it.’

  ‘Well, if the fact that Germany is building submarines almost in accordance with those plans isn’t proof enough, I’d like to know what is!’ Winthrop retorted irritably.

  ‘Oh, I believe they were sold all right, but it can’t be proved. ’Twasn’t as though the plans were stolen. There wasn’t even a sign of anyone having tampered with the safe. The room—’

  ‘For goodness’ sake don’t let’s go all over it again!’ Winthrop begged. ‘We’ve torn it to bits. Oh, yes, I’m getting peevish, aren’t I?’ He smiled reluctantly. ‘You’d be peevish in my place.’

  ‘You’re certainly a bit morose,’ admitted Linckes, ‘What a mercurial sort of chap you are! A fortnight ago you were perfectly cheerful, and then you were suddenly plunged in despair!’

  ‘Can’t help it. Made that way.’ Winthrop picked up his pen, and started to address an envelope. ‘Oh, now the beastly pen won’t write! Damn! I hate quills!’

  ‘Then why use them?’

  ‘Heaven knows! I used to like them awfully. Yes, John?’

  The butler had entered the room.

  ‘Mr Knowles to see you, sir.’

  Winthrop’s brow cleared as if by magic.

  ‘Knowles? Show him in, will you? I say Linckes, do you mind if I interview this man? I won’t be many minutes.’

  Linckes rose at once.

  ‘Rather not! I’ll clear out for a bit, shall I? Can you give me a little time when you’ve finished? There are one or two questions I want to ask you.’

  ‘Of course! Show Mr Linckes into the drawing-room, please, John.’

  Linckes went to the door just as Winthrop’s visitor entered. As he went out Linckes cast him a passing glance, and noted that he was an elderly man with grizzled black hair and a short beard and moustache. He bowed slightly, received a pleasant smile in return, which vaguely reminded him of someone, and went out.

  He had not to wait long. Presently, from the drawing-room window, he saw Knowles descend the steps of the house and hail a passing taxi. As the vehicle drew up beside the kerb, he turned and saw Linckes. He nodded slightly, smiling, and after speaking to the taxi-driver got briskly into the cab. He let down the window, and as the taxi moved forward looked up at Linckes with a strangely mocking expression in his eyes.

  Then the butler came to tell Linckes that Sir Charles was at liberty.

  Winthrop was standing with his back to the fire when Linckes came in, smokin
g, and he greeted the detective with his old, sunny smile.

  ‘I say, I’m awfully sorry to have turfed you out like that!’ he exclaimed. ‘My time’s not my own, you know. What do you want to ask me especially? Didn’t you say there were one or two questions?’

  Something about him was puzzling Linckes. The frown had quite disappeared from Winthrop’s face; the nervous, irritable movements had left him. He was smiling in his own peculiarly charming fashion, and as he looked at Linckes he sent two long columns of smoke down through his nose.

  ‘Every track turns out to be the wrong one,’ Linckes answered bitterly. ‘I begin to think we shall never get to the bottom of it all.’

  Winthrop went to his desk and picked up the despised quill. He held it poised, smiling at Linckes.

  ‘Oh, come! Don’t lose hope, Linckes! Something must leak out soon.’

  Linckes stared at him.

  ‘Well, I like that! Only half an hour ago you were groaning that nothing would ever be discovered!’

  ‘Yes, but that was half an hour ago,’ Winthrop explained. ‘I’ve taken a turn for the better since then.’

  ‘You certainly have. You’ve cheered up wonderfully. Did your visitor bring you good news, or what?’

  ‘Knowles? Nothing to speak of. Now, who on earth has been mucking about with my pen? Beastly thing won’t write.’

  Linckes leaned forward a little in his chair, eyes narrowed suddenly.

  ‘You said how well it did write a moment ago,’ he said deliberately.

  Winthrop turned the pen round in his hand, and for an instant their eyes met.

  ‘I don’t remember saying any such thing,’ he replied.

  A tiny smile hovered about the corners of his mouth, as if of triumph.

  ‘But you did!’ insisted Linckes. ‘What an appalling bad memory you’ve got!’

  Winthrop looked back at his hand, scrutinising the bent nib-end that bore unmistakable evidence of having been jabbed down into some hard substance.

  ‘My dear Linckes, it’s your memory that’s at fault. I believe I cursed the pen.’

  He glanced up again, one eyebrow raised quizzingly.

  ‘Did you?’ Linckes laughed. ‘I must be going to pieces. Yes, I think you did. Still, you did say that you always liked a quill, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course I did! It’s true, too. Well, I’ll see what I can do for you in the matter of Burton, Caryu’s secretary, that you were asking about. Anything else?’

  ‘No, not at present, thanks. I must be getting along.’

  Winthrop laughed, and held out his hand.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure to come along to report,’ Linckes answered, and went out, his temples throbbing with excitement.

  IV

  A month later Linckes was shown into Caryu’s study. Caryu looked at him hopefully, for there was a glitter in Linckes’ eyes, and a very purposeful look.

  ‘You’ve got a fresh suspicion?’ he said, with the glimmer of a smile.

  Linckes sat down opposite him.

  ‘Yes, sir, I have. And I’ve come to ask your help.’

  ‘Have you, indeed? I’m sure I have to imitate the famous Watson, haven’t I? I shall meekly do your bidding, being myself quite in the dark.’

  Linckes laughed.

  ‘That is about the size of it, sir,’ he confessed. ‘But I really believe I’ve got on to the right track at last.’

  ‘Any clue?’

  ‘No, sir. Pretty strong suspicion, though.’

  A shadow crossed Caryu’s face.

  ‘Only a suspicion, Linckes? I seem to have listened to so many.’

  ‘This time it amounts to a conviction, sir. And, because I’m practically certain in my own mind, I’m going to have the cheek to ask you to do something that’ll seem quite insane to you.’

  Caryu moved a paperweight uncertainly.

  ‘I’m not at all sure that I shall comply, then. What is it?’

  Linckes clasped and unclasped fingers rather nervously.

  ‘Sir, you’ve got the plans of the new plane here, haven’t you?’

  The elder man smiled a little.

  ‘You ought to know, Roger. You and your colleagues are supposed to be keeping an eye on them. But if you imagine they can be taken out of this new safe, you’re wrong. No one knows the secret of the combination except myself.’

  ‘I know, sir. I don’t expect the thief to attempt it. I want you to tell Sir Charles, when you see him tomorrow, that you have made one or two suggestions on the plans, and are sending them by your secretary to his house for him to see.’

  Caryu reddened.

  ‘What are you driving at?’ he asked levelly. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just that, sir. I think Mr Fortescue carries documents to Sir Charles’ house fairly often? Minor documents, I mean.’

  ‘Certainly. But I do not understand—’

  ‘I know, sir. I want you to give Mr Fortescue a package containing blank sheets. Keep the plans in your safe.’

  Caryu drew himself up.

  ‘Linckes, you must please explain yourself. I don’t know what crack-brained notion you have got into your head, but if you are insinuating that Sir Charles is the criminal, I may as well tell you that it is an impertinent and foolish suggestion.’

  ‘I’m not insinuating anything, sir. I can’t even tell you who I suspect. But I do beg of you to just do as I ask without mentioning my name. It can’t do any harm, and I believe it’ll enable me to find the man who’s betraying us all.’

  Caryu’s face softened a little.

  ‘You think that whoever is doing it will try to intercept Fortescue on his way to Winthrop’s house? It is rather improbable, isn’t it? He has only a few yards to go.’

  ‘That’s just what I’m counting on, sir. It’s too short a distance for him to take a taxi. He doesn’t, I know, for I’ve often been with Winthrop when he has come over with a letter for you, or, as I said, some minor document.’

  Caryu was silent for a moment. He looked Linckes over, frowning.

  ‘And when Fortescue comes to Winthrop and gives him a package of blank sheets,’ he said sarcastically, ‘what am I to say to Winthrop? You don’t seem to understand that if that happens my action in sending blank sheets amounts to a very serious insult.’

  ‘No, sir. If Fortescue does arrive, unmolested, and with the blank sheets, you can explain why it was done. You don’t suspect Sir Charles. I haven’t said that I do. It’s quite simple.’

  Caryu smiled faintly.

  ‘Very well. I will tell Winthrop that among other things I am sending him the plan of the new ’plane. Are you satisfied?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Thank you!’

  Linckes rose and prepared to depart.

  ‘What happens if Fortescue is sand-bagged?’ inquired Caryu. ‘What will he think of your little plot?’

  ‘Not much chance of that, sir,’ Linckes grinned. ‘From Park Lane to Arlington Street isn’t a far cry, and it’s never exactly deserted. But don’t tell Fortescue anything, will you? Not even that you are supposed to be sending plans. Send him off at the usual time.’

  ‘“The usual time” covers a wide margin,’ remarked Caryu. ‘I shall send him at about six in the evening. That is the most usual time.’

  ‘Then tell Winthrop, sir, casually. And thanks awfully!’

  He shook Caryu’s outstretched hand, and went to the door.

  ‘Mind you, I think you’ve got a bee in your bonnet,’ Caryu warned him. ‘If you haven’t—well, it’ll be a fairly large feather in the bonnet instead.’

  V

  ‘Got another fit of the blues, Winthrop?’

  Sir Charles looked up, smiling.

  ‘Getting rather frequent, aren’t they? Sorry I’m such a surly brute. It’s very nice of you to consent to stay and dine with me.’

  Linckes leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs.

  ‘It’s jolly nice of you to ask me
,’ he retaliated. ‘I don’t wonder you’re feeling depressed.’

  Winthrop gave a short sigh.

  ‘’Tisn’t very surprising, is it? We don’t seem to get any forrader, do we? Since your ingenious Burton theory there haven’t been any fresh suspicions, have there?’

  Linckes turned sharply. Caryu’s secretary had just come into the room. Linckes looked him over quickly, conscious of a sinking sensation of disappointment somewhere in the region of his stomach.

  ‘Good evening, Sir Charles! Mr Caryu sent me with one or two things for you to sign.’

  Winthrop had risen.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Oh, don’t go, Linckes! It’s nothing private.’

  Dully, Linckes watched Fortescue lay his dispatch-case on the table and insert a key into the lock. After a moment’s twisting and turning he drew it out again and looked up at Winthrop, rather white about the mouth.

  ‘Funny!’ he said uneasily. ‘It won’t open!’

  Linckes’ heart leapt. He lounged back at his ease, outwardly careless, but his eyes never left Winthrop’s face.

  ‘Won’t open? Perhaps you’ve got hold of the wrong key?’

  ‘No; it’s a special lock and key.’

  Fortescue’s eyes were rather wide.

  ‘Then something must have gone wrong with the lock,’ said Winthrop impatiently. ‘You must force it.’

  ‘Ah!’ Relief sounded in the secretary’s voice. ‘That’s it, of course. I got hung up on one “island” in the middle of Piccadilly, and when half the people surged forward into the road there was a bit of a scrum, and I dropped the case. I suppose that did it.’

  ‘You dropped it?’ Winthrop asked. ‘Rather careless, surely!’

  Fortescue flushed.

  ‘Yes, Sir Charles. But it fell at my feet, and I’d picked it up in a flash.’

  ‘I see.’

  Breathlessly Linckes watched the secretary burst open the lock.

  ‘Mr Caryu told me to ask you to run through his memorandum concerning the Crosstown Barracks, sir. Here it is!’

  He was turning over some long envelopes. One of these he handed to Winthrop, who took it and pulled out several folded sheets.

  There was a moment’s silence, broken only by the crackle of paper as Winthrop spread open the papers. Then Linckes saw Sir Charles look up sharply at Fortescue, the lines about his mouth suddenly grown stern.