During The Course of that morning Piper called on a number of useful acquaintances in and around the City of London, asking discreet questions and receiving equally discreet answers. By lunch time he had an almost complete dossier on Fritz Haupmann and the Falcon Shoe Manufacturing Company.
The substance of what he learned provided him with nothing he had not previously known. Haupmann’s reputation, both business and personal, was an admirable one. People knew him as a man of integrity, a man who was universally liked and made welcome by everybody with whom he came in contact.
His firm was sound, his private credit unquestioned. From the day he came to England there had never been a breath of scandal either about him or his family.
“… Sometimes funny things go on among buyers and agents when they get together with the manufacturers … when we have our annual shoe fair, for instance. Lots of men take the opportunity to have a high old time. …”
“Has Haupmann ever been inclined that way?”
“Not him. Only one woman in his life … and if you met her you wouldn’t be surprised. He’s got a most charming and attractive wife. With a woman like her at home, I’d say it would take something extra special to tempt a man to stray from the straight and narrow. …”
Piper’s last call was on Detective-Superintendent Mullett of Scotland Yard. Mullett said, “I didn’t investigate that fire business myself but all cases of arson and suspected arson get round to me eventually and I’ve read the report. Not much doubt that the thing was deliberately started.”
“Have you managed to trace the person who phoned the fire service?”
“No. And I don’t believe we ever will now.”
“Think there’s any significance in the fact that the caller wouldn’t give any name or the number of the phone where the call was made from?”
“Not really. People often don’t want to get involved. They do their duty as good citizens but they’re not keen on answering questions, making statements, and all the rest of the paraphernalia.”
With a sharp look, Mullett asked, “Could you make a guess as to who it was?”
Piper said, “No, I haven’t a clue … unless it was the fire-raiser himself who made that call.”
“Just for the fun of seeing the fire engines turn out?”
“If he was a pyromaniac—yes.”
“You would think he’d have waited until the whole building was ablaze so that he could enjoy a first-class show before he raised the alarm.”
“Maybe he was afraid if he waited too long somebody else would report the fire.”
“It’s possible. If he’s one of these pathological cases, anything’s possible.”
Mullett knocked out his pipe, unscrewed the mouthpiece, and blew through it. All the time he was watching Piper reflectively.
With his bushy eyebrows pulled down, he went on, “You’ve got a liking for the idea that it was one and the same person who set the warehouse alight and then phoned the fire brigade … haven’t you? Furthermore, you don’t believe it was the work of a pyromaniac, either … m-m-m?”
Piper said, “I don’t know what I believe and I haven’t got the foggiest notion what kind of person you should look for.”
“That’s helpful,” Mullett said. “Now all I have to do is find him—or her.”
“And I hope you do it soon. I’d like to think he’ll pay for his fun before he gets up to any more mischief. Right now it’s the Cresset Insurance Company that’s doing all the paying.”
“Like every other company, the Cresset’s got to take the rough with the smooth. You know that if the party who set that shoe warehouse on fire doesn’t do the same sort of thing again we haven’t got a dog’s chance of catching him … m-m-m?”
“Yes, I know it only too well. But I’d say what happened on Christmas Eve won’t prove to be an isolated action.”
“You think he’ll try again?”
“I’m almost sure of it. But it might not be a fire next time.”
“What does that mean?”
“Find somebody who hates Fritz Haupmann and your troubles will be over,” Piper said.
Mullett sucked at the stem of his pipe until he was satisfied it was clear. Then he said, “That’s what I’d call an enigmatic remark. What about Haupmann’s troubles?”
“In a different sense,” Piper said, “I think his have only just begun.”
It was a quarter to one when he left Scotland Yard and he decided he might as well have lunch at a place he knew in Victoria Street. He got back to his office shortly after two o’clock.
For ten or fifteen minutes he made notes of his morning’s work and then he walked to the window and stood looking down at the busy street below while he day-dreamed about things of no consequence. Trivial recollections floated like bubbles on the dark pool of his memory … a day in January long ago when he was still at school… the plant with big orange berries like Chinese lanterns that he had once bought to brighten his office during the long sunless weeks before spring came round again … a week-end in the Yorkshire Dales when the striking of a church clock every hour had kept him awake most of the night.
He was still there watching the traffic with unseeing eyes when the phone rang. As he picked up the receiver he wondered if Quinn would have anything useful to report.
It was not Quinn. A woman asked, “Is that Mr. John Piper?”
“Yes.”
“Are you the gentleman who was at the meeting last night?” Over the phone the Scots lilt in her voice was very pronounced.
“I attended a meeting of the North London Psychic Research Society—if that’s what you’re referring to,” Piper said.
“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure I’d got the right one. This is Mrs. McAllister. You remember me, don’t you? We had a talk together before you left the hall.”
“Of course I remember you. And I’m afraid my presence at the meeting upset you, Mrs. McAllister. Are you feeling better to-day?”
“A little—-just a little. I didn’t get much sleep … and what I did get was full of nasty dreams. Not that it was your fault—not in the least. That’s why I just had to phone you. I’ve been worried all morning.”
“What about?”
“You, Mr. Piper. I’ve tried to get it out of my mind but I couldn’t. So I thought I’d better ring and find out if you were all right.”
“It’s very nice of you—but why shouldn’t I be all right?”
“Because there are harmful influences … evil things … their presence was all around you last night. I can feel it even now.”
“Well, nothing’s happened to me yet,” Piper said.
“Perhaps nothing will… perhaps it isn’t meant for you. But please be careful where you go and think twice before you put your trust in people you meet. So long as there’s a link between you and Mr. Haupmann you’ll never be safe.”
“From what?”
“That’s something I can’t see. I only sense a great danger.”
“I suppose I ought to be grateful to you,” Piper said, “but I’d appreciate your concern for my welfare a lot more if you didn’t wrap it up in black magic. I don’t believe in spirit messages … so why not tell me honestly just what’s behind all this business instead of talking about evil influences threatening Fritz Haupmann?”
She was quiet for ten seconds that seemed a long time. Then she said, “I didn’t think you would understand but I had to try. The pity is that you’re inside a shell of materialism and I can’t get through to you. But the evil is there all the same. I only hope it isn’t meant for you.”
“So do I,” Piper said.
“Now you’re being flippant. No … don’t deny it. I know what you think of me.”
“If you could read my thoughts you’d see that I respect your sincerity. The fact that I don’t believe in spiritualism has nothing to do with it. Whatever harm threatens Fritz Haupmann I’m making it my concern to see that nothing happens to him. If you’ll help me. …”
Mrs. McAllister said, “I can’t help you to do the impossible. There is no way of protecting him except through faith … perhaps not even then. Without faith you can defend neither him nor yourself.”
Piper wanted to tell her she was crazy but that would have served no purpose. He said, “The thing that threatens Haupmann isn’t any psychic manifestation. It’s material—not spiritual—and it walks around on two legs. I’ve had proof of that.”
“We don’t talk the same language,” Mrs. McAllister said. “I can’t convince you that you must stay away from Fritz Haupmann—at least for the time being—and so I’m only wasting my breath.”
“What will it achieve if I stay away from him?”
“You may avoid coming to any harm yourself. Goodbye, Mr. Piper. If you decide to take my advice come and see me. …”
Her words echoed in his mind long after he had hung up. There was a simplicity about Mrs. McAllister which carried its own conviction. No matter what he or anyone else thought, she believed with an absolute faith. That was the frightening thing: like the discovery that an apparently normal person was suffering from some insane delusion.
It had to be a delusion. All her talk about evil influences was just nonsense. The fire at the Falcon Shoe Manufacturing Company had not been started by a disembodied spirit.
Yet … It might depend on the interpretation of evil. All wrongdoing was a thing of the spirit … like the fear which haunted Fritz Haupmann. Hatred and revenge were aspects of wickedness … the desire to hurt … to destroy a man by making him afraid of what to-morrow might bring.
If Haupmann had to be on his guard day and night, never knowing when or where the blow would fall, life would become intolerable. What he had done to deserve such a fate was immaterial. He knew the reason, just as he knew that destruction hung over him.
No matter what Haupmann had done, anyone who could torture a man out of his wits must—as they believed in olden times—be possessed of an evil spirit. Was that what Mrs. McAllister had meant? Was all her theatrical display, her claim to be in touch with the dead, merely a cloak to hide her knowledge of the truth about Fritz Haupmann?
Or … His doubts still lingered. Did she have the power to perceive what she called psychic emanations?
The possibility confused his thoughts as he walked to and fro from desk to window and back again, time after time, while he tried to find some logical explanation for Mrs. McAllister’s part in Haupmann’s affairs. He was still struggling with the problem when his phone rang again.
A tantalisingly familiar voice said, “I phoned you just after eleven o’clock this morning and I got no reply. You weren’t in your office at half past twelve, either, and I was beginning to think you might be out of town. I’m so glad I’ve managed to get you at last.”
For a moment he was unable to put a name to the voice. Then he remembered.
With recognition came a quick feeling of excitement followed instantly by annoyance at his own stupidity. A man of his age had no right to behave like an adolescent. If she ever found out. …
He said, “I’m sorry, Miss Haupmann, but I’ve been out all morning since half past nine or so. What can I do for you?”
“It’s about my father.” She made it sound as if she expected Piper to understand.
“Has he asked you to get in touch with me?”
“No … and I’d rather not talk about it over the phone. May I come and see you?”
“Of course. When would you like to call?”
“Now … if you’re free for a little while.”
“I’ve no appointments for the next hour. Where are you speaking from?”
“The Café Royal. I’ve been lunching there.”
“Then you’re only two or three minutes’ walk from my office. Why not come round right away?”
“Thank you. Is it all right if I bring a friend of mine, a Mr. Cusack? He knows why I want to see you. If you don’t mind he’d like to talk to you as well.”
A feeling that could have been jealousy made Piper annoyed with himself again. He said, “By all means bring Mr. Cusack. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t come, too … although it all sounds very puzzling.”
Gizelle Haupmann said, “I’m hoping, Mr. Piper, that you’ll be able to solve the puzzle.”