The cablegram, a very lengthy one in code, was sent to the India Office soon after the Commander-in-Chief left the Lodge. It asked urgently that Sir Leonard Wallace should be sent to India by air, in order to unravel the mystery of the disappearance of very important plans. It further pleaded for haste and secrecy.
After the cablegram had been sent, Sir Henry Muir partook of an early tiffin and then set out again for Barog. He went back in the same car that had brought him to Delhi, but this time he had a driver with him, and he himself took his ease in the tonneau. There was no furious driving now, but no time was lost en route and it had just turned eight o’clock when the doctor’s house at Barog was reached.
The doctor was sitting on the veranda as Sir Henry drove up, and he looked very much surprised when he saw the Secretary.
‘I thought the car might turn up today,’ he said, ‘but I hardly expected you back so soon.’
‘No, I was not expecting it myself,’ replied Muir, ‘but Colonel Sanders seemed to desire my presence here as soon as possible, so I came back in the car which proved such a blessing last night.’
He reiterated his thanks for the loan of the Fiat and told the other something of his race to Delhi.
‘I think my average speed must have been over forty,’ he concluded, ‘and the car never jibbed once.’
‘She’s a good old bus,’ said the doctor, ‘I’m glad she served you so well.’
‘What is the news?’ asked Sir Henry. ‘I hardly dare hope that the murderer has been found.’
The doctor shook his head
‘I know very little of course,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think there is the slightest clue. Colonel Sanders has been very busy with two other men all day long, and from the expression on his face I should say that he is one of the most puzzled men in India at the present moment. He doesn’t say much, anyway!’
Muir smiled.
‘No, he’s not exactly communicative,’ he said, then sighed. ‘The whole business is horrible, mysterious and uncanny.’
‘You’ll put up here for the night, of course?’
‘Well, that’s very good of you, but I—’
‘I wouldn’t think of your going anywhere else. The Commissioner is going to stop here. As a matter of fact I was waiting for him to come in to dinner when you arrived.’
‘Thanks; then I will. Could I have a hasty bath? I’m a bit grimy.’
‘Of course!’
The doctor called a servant and gave orders.
‘Don’t bother to dress!’ he said.
‘I couldn’t if I would,’ replied Muir. ‘I’ve only got this kit with me!’
He had his bath and rapidly dressed himself again, and then returned to the doctor who was still on the veranda.
‘We won’t wait any longer for the Colonel,’ said the latter. ‘He might be very late.’
They entered the dining room together, and had just started the soup, when the Deputy Commissioner walked in. He did not show the slightest sign of surprise when he saw Sir Henry.
‘Hullo, Muir,’ he said. ‘Glad you’ve arrived.’
He sat down and attacked his soup with the air of a man for whom this life has very few pleasures.
‘Have you made any discoveries, Colonel?’ asked Sir Henry.
‘Not one. I’ve never been so baffled in my life. Why Elliott was murdered, I don’t know, and I don’t suppose anyone ever will know. I’ve put the driver of the rail motor under arrest on suspicion, but—’ He shrugged his shoulders.
‘What has the driver got to do with it?’
‘There’s a possibility that he may have switched the light off. Williams swears that he couldn’t have done so, but I’m taking no chances. He’s a badly frightened man, and personally I don’t think he had anything to do with it, but if he had he’ll talk, so I’m keeping him locked up for a couple of days, then, if nothing happens, I’ll let him go – without a stain on his character!’
‘Perhaps the railway company won’t reinstate him, and then—’
‘Oh yes, they will! I’ll see to that!’
‘I suppose the inquest is not likely to bring anything to light?’ said the doctor.
‘Nothing at all,’ replied the Commissioner. ‘It will be a mere formality. Your evidence is clear enough, doctor; there’s no doubt about Elliott being murdered, and as we haven’t found the murderer the verdict will be the usual. Oh, dash it all!’ he added irritably. ‘Why on earth isn’t there a clue of some sort? Even the knife it was done with might help a bit, if we could find it.’
There was silence for a time.
‘Where will Elliott be buried?’ asked Muir presently.
‘In Simla the day after tomorrow,’ replied the Colonel. ‘His body will be taken up tomorrow afternoon. Poor fellow, what a beastly finish! Thank God you got those plans through, Muir – Why, what’s the matter with you?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ said Muir hastily, giving the Commissioner a look full of meaning.
‘I – I suppose the remembrance of my drive last night is still too recent to be pleasant.’
‘I never expected you to get to Delhi,’ grunted Sanders. ‘I fully anticipated that the Viceroy would tell me you were missing when I rang up this morning. Did you have any trouble at all?’
‘Not the slightest!’
‘Strange!’
Conversation then became very desultory until the end of dinner, when the doctor stood up.
‘Well, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I’ve a patient to see, so I will leave you for a while. No doubt you have a lot to talk over. Help yourselves to drinks and cigars and make yourselves at home!’
He nodded and went out.
‘Sensible man that,’ grunted Sanders. He took a cigar and carefully lit it. ‘Now, Muir,’ he said. ‘You have some news for me – what is it?’
Sir Henry looked the Colonel straight in the face. ‘The plans have disappeared,’ he said.
‘What!’ shouted Sanders. ‘Do you really mean that?’
Muir nodded, and proceeded to give an account of the discovery that morning in the Viceroy’s study. The Commissioner heard him to the end without interruption, and for once the bored look had gone from his face.
‘It’s incredible!’ he exclaimed at last. ‘Absolutely incredible! Then the documents must have been stolen when Elliott was murdered!’
‘How could they have been?’
‘God knows! You say that the case was in your pocket from the time you left here until you reached Delhi and you never stopped after Kalka! Then by some means they were taken from Elliott; but how? How? How?’
He put his head between his hands for a moment or two, and then stood up and walked about the room.
‘There were a few things I wanted to ask you,’ he said, ‘but this has taken the wind out of my sails completely, and they’ll have to wait … What is the Viceroy going to do about it?’
‘He has cabled to the India Office, and asked them to get hold of Sir Leonard Wallace and send him out.’
The Commissioner stopped and stared at Sir Henry. ‘Who the devil is Sir Leonard Wallace?’ he demanded.
‘You know surely – The Chief of the Intelligence Department—’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard of him – He’s the fellow they made such a fuss about over some German spies during the War, isn’t he?’
Muir smiled and nodded.
‘I think the fuss was deserved,’ he remarked. ‘At any rate he removed a very big menace to England’s safety, and he has done a lot of good work since he was put in charge of the Intelligence Department.’
‘Friend of yours, I see,’ sneered the Colonel. He sat down suddenly. ‘And so the Viceroy doesn’t think the police of this country are capable enough for this affair, and sends for a picturesque, out-of-a-novel sort of detective to supersede me.’
Sir Henry felt annoyed, and he looked it.
‘I’m surprised at your taking such a childish attitude, Colonel Sanders,’ he said. ‘Sir Leonard Wallace is a specialist in this sort of thing, as his reputation proves. He is coming out entirely to discover, if possible, what has become of the plans and, I hope, to get them back. Who committed the murder has nothing to do with him, except in so far as it is connected with the disappearance of the documents – that is yours, the police’s, side of the case. If he assists you to discover the murderer, you should be grateful, I think. I do not understand this resentful attitude of yours!’
Sanders stared at Muir for a moment, and looked as though he were verbally about to pulverise him, but thought better of it, then:
‘It will be much too late anyhow by the time he arrives in India. If, as we suspect, the Russians have Elliott’s plans, then they are well on their way to the frontier by now.’
‘They can’t get across!’ replied Muir, almost in triumph. ‘The whole of the frontier has been closed by order of Sir Edward Willys, and nobody can cross without being searched, while the Air Force has orders to keep watch, and to bring down any suspicious aeroplane that attempts to get over. As for Sir Leonard Wallace, he will travel out from England by air as fast as a plane can carry him.’
‘H’m!’ murmured the Colonel grudgingly. ‘You haven’t let the grass grow under your feet in Delhi apparently.’
‘I don’t think that can ever be laid to our charge,’ retorted Muir.
‘Well, let us hope that Wallace will not come out on a wild goose chase! He’s got the job of his life before him!’
‘Of course you will give him every assistance, Colonel?’
‘Oh, I suppose so!’ He said ungraciously. ‘But if he can do any more than the Indian Police, I’ll eat my hat!’
‘Hasty words,’ smiled Muir, who had by now fully recovered his good humour. ‘Remember you are dealing with the most brilliant brain in England in his particular line, and you may be called upon to eat that hat after all!’
‘India isn’t England,’ snapped Sanders; ‘and he’ll find everything against him out here.’
‘Oh well, he knows India pretty well, so we’ll wait and see, to use a platitude … By the way, where is Williams?’
‘In Simla! He went up this morning and will be back in time for the inquest tomorrow. Did you remember to communicate with his C.O.? He told me you were going to do so!’
‘Yes – I left instructions for one of the secretaries to get through and arrange matters.’
The next morning the inquest went very much as the Deputy Commissioner had prophesied. Care was taken that no mention of the plans should be made and to the ordinary mind it appeared as though the murder was motiveless. Sir Henry told how the light had gone out, and that after it relit again and the car had left the tunnel, he turned to make some remark to Major Elliott, and discovered that he was dead; how he had ordered the rail motor to stop and had drawn the attention of Captain Williams and Mr Hartley to the dead man. Hartley described how he had clambered over the back of the seat and found the wound between the shoulder blades, obviously made by a thin-bladed knife. Captain Williams corroborated the testimony of the other two. All three witnesses agreed that the failure of the light must have been due to a loose lamp that had been jolted off and on again, and all agreed that the murderer had been waiting his opportunity in the tunnel, and had taken advantage of the mishap to the lighting to do his evil work and escape. The driver of the car, who was in a state of abject terror and almost wept as he gave his evidence, declared that the failure of a lamp through jolting was quite a common occurrence; and when sternly asked by the Coroner if he had touched the switch, swore by all the gods that he had not done so.
The doctor stated that he had been called in to examine the murdered man, who was lying in a room at Barog station, whither he had been carried from the rail motor, and found that he had been stabbed in the back between the shoulder blades, and that the blow was driven downwards, obviously by someone standing behind Major Elliott, with such force that it had pierced the heart, and death must have been instantaneous. The Coroner asked several pertinent questions and summed up the case very lucidly. The jury, without retiring, brought in a verdict that ‘Major Elliott had been done to death by some person or persons unknown.’
As Colonel Sanders and Sir Henry Muir left the building in which the inquest had been held, the former looked very glum.
‘I wish to Goodness you had gone down in a private car, as I advised,’ he grunted.
‘I wish we had, Colonel,’ said Muir. ‘But it’s too late wishing now. I feel morally responsible for Elliott’s death.’
‘Don’t be a fool!’ said the Commissioner brusquely. ‘Elliott himself was not any keener than you to go that way. Well, I suppose I had better let that driver go. You three make it impossible to hold him any longer.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, with your damnable shaky lamp evidence.’
‘Then you still think that the light was interfered with?’
‘I do! But I’m hanged if I know how. I’m going through that rail motor inch by inch, even if I have to pull it to pieces, to see if I can find out why the light went out. There’s one thing I am convinced about.’
‘And that is?’
‘The murderer did not board the train in the tunnel, but was in the car all the time, hidden on the floor behind you and Elliott!’
‘Great Scott! … And how does that theory help?’
It doesn’t!’ snapped the Colonel. He held out his hand. ‘Well, goodbye, Muir, there’s no reason for you to stop up here – you’ll know how things go from the Viceroy.’
He shook hands and turned away, then swung back again.
‘And – er – Muir,’ he said. ‘I shall be glad when the most brilliant brain in England arrives in India!’ He smiled faintly and was gone.
After bidding farewell to Captain Williams – who was returning at once to his regiment – and to the doctor, Muir drove back to Delhi. He arrived there a very tired man and went to bed early that night with the intention of having at least ten hours’ sleep, and he went with a feeling of great hope, for on his arrival the Viceroy had shown him a cablegram from the India Office, and it read:
Sir Leonard Wallace left early this afternoon for India by aeroplane. Hopes to arrive within five days! – DALSTON.