Chapter Seventeen

Stolen Books

The new discovery was vivid in Mannering’s mind when he left Lorna and went to the upstairs library. The first thing he saw was Higby, in his shirtsleeves, staggering under the weight of a pile of books. Longley, in flannel trousers and a khaki shirt, was following him with a smaller pile, and Mary Scott stood by some long shelves, placed on trestles, and pointing.

“Just here,” she directed.

Higby dumped his pile down on the table and wiped his forehead.

“Just the weather for heavy work,” said Longley, banging down his own. “That’s the lot, Higby, thanks.”

“Very good, sir.” Higby went out without a glance at Mannering.

“Come for a job?” Longley asked Mannering.

“I’ve come to make one,” Mannering said.

“You would.” Longley lit a cigarette. He went to the main door and made sure that it was shut, but did not trouble to go to the one at the other end of the room; they were so far away from it that there was little risk of anything being overheard. “Well, I haven’t found a thing. No secret passages, no mysterious cupboards, nothing except a couple of haversacks stuffed behind some of the books. Yes, we’ve had ’em all out,” he went on, as Mannering glanced up at the gallery. “Higby and another footman spent all the morning in here with me, they’ve only just finished. I can’t swear that I haven’t overlooked anything, but I don’t think there’s much chance. I’m pretty sure old Wilberforce knew nothing about books, the Lord knows why Lithom employed him. You were sold on a secret passage to the downstairs study, weren’t you?”

“It wouldn’t have surprised me.”

“I’m disappointed,” declared Mary. “There ought to be a secret passage in a house like this.”

“Well, we’ve looked at the plans—pretty old, some of them, and there’s no indication of one,” said Longley. He smiled at the girl, who was now sitting on top of a pair of library steps, with a book in her hands. The warmth in her answering smile told a story.

“Lady Gloria remembered something that might help,” he said, and took the list of books from his pocket. “Fenner wanted to buy these from Lord Lithom.” He handed the typewritten sheet to Longley. “Convey anything?”

Interest sprang into Longley’s eyes.

“Great Scott, yes! Those books—” he pointed to several piles—“which were found in the hedge at Marchant, are all on the list. Pretty well all, anyhow. Mary, sing out the titles, will you?”

He was eager, excited.

Mary slipped down from the steps, Longley went eagerly to the corner and used a bookshelf as a rest. Mary read out title after title, and Longley made ticks against the corresponding ones on the list. Now and again he paused, searching for a title; in every instance he found it.

So Fenner had stolen the books he’d failed to buy. The whole mystery turned on one question: why did Fenner want these particular books?

Longley said in a keen voice: “Well, now we’re on to something. Damn good thing we’ve got these books.”

“Looks like it,” said Mannering slowly. “Are there any more on the list?”

“Oh, yes. Twenty odd—just a minute.” Longley counted just above his breath. “Twenty-three,” he said, “and they—”

He broke off abruptly.

Mary said: “What’s the matter?”

Longley rubbed his chin. “Er—it doesn’t matter,” he said. “Nothing important.” His grin was rather forced. “What are we going to do now? We could have a search squad in, to take out the books again and then make a thorough search, but I honestly don’t think it’s worth while. How long are you going to leave Lady Gloria at that cottage, Mr. Mannering?”

“A bit longer. Gadden’s strengthened the guard.”

“That’s something,” said Longley, rubbing his chin again. From the moment he had broken off, his manner had changed – much in the way Gadden’s had. “Well, there doesn’t seem a lot more for me to do, does there? Unless you’ve anything in mind?”

“My dear chap, what’s the hurry?” asked Mannering. “Fenner wanted those books—and Fenner stole ’em. So there must be something in the books themselves. You’re an expert in these things, why not see if you can find out what the mystery is. It might be a code, or there might be some papers concealed in one of them.”

“Hmm, yes,” said Longley. “Of course.”

“And you can give Mary some hints in deduction?” murmured Mannering.

“Yes, good idea. Work, Mary!”

Mannering went out, mildly amused yet wary. First Gadden, now Longley looked at him askance; Gadden’s reason he couldn’t guess, but Longley’s was obvious enough. The sergeant had noticed that the books which Mannering had picked out for customers were the other titles on the typewritten list.

He went to his room, left the door ajar, and stood near it. Within three minutes Longley passed the door, walking quickly and on tiptoe. Mannering waited until he judged that the other had reached the top of the stairs, then went into the passage.

Longley was just disappearing below.

He went alongside the stairs to the little cubbyhole where the small exchange was fixed, and Mannering followed, stepping into the alcove where he could hear without being seen. Longley asked for Whitehall 1212 …

After a short pause, he said: “Longley here—put me through to Superintendent Bristow, please.”

The affair of Lithom Hall was preying on Bristow’s mind. He couldn’t set it aside, as he’d like to, and attend to local affairs, for whenever he thought about it, he recalled the Bayswater shooting, and the existence of an armed gang. It riled him to think that but for Mannering, he might never have known of Fenner’s existence – or that Fenner and Kenley were one and the same. From all he had heard, Mannering had been playing the fool again; but if he hadn’t, Fenner might still be masquerading comfortably and safely as Kenley.

The moment he had heard from Gadden, he had put out a general call for Fenner, Dr. Halsted and the Rolls-Royce. The Rolls had been found stranded in the middle of a wood about an hour’s drive from Marchant. So the two men must have transferred to another car, to make pursuit more difficult; even at the cost of throwing away a new Rolls. Moreover, Gadden had since reported discovering more than twenty empty cartridge-cases; the St. Malden police were sure that the thief who had broken into Marchant House had arrived and escaped on horse-back.

Abel White, the head groom at Lithom Hall declared that the late earl’s grey horse had been out during the night.

Gadden had asked Bristow whether he thought it possible that Mr. Mannering would take the law into his own hands.

Bristow had countered: “Any reason for thinking it might have been Mannering?”

“I’d a feeling that he’d been to Marchant House before,” Gadden had said. “And there’s another thing, Mr. Bristow. Through him we found some books which the thief had obviously taken away from the house, and left in a hedge. He didn’t actually find them, but we shouldn’t have found them if he hadn’t been there. Not yet, anyhow. And I’ve been wondering since then, just why he’s taken such an interest in Lady Gloria. He is a relative, isn’t he?”

Bristow had laughed.

“A distant connection by marriage. If you’re thinking that Mannering might be involved in Lithom’s death, to get the fortune, forget it. I wouldn’t put it past him to play the fool, but he’s interested in Lady Gloria because he wants to end her troubles.”

Gadden hadn’t sounded too convinced.

It was easy enough to understand why. He knew little about Mannering, except his reputation as an amateur detective and a dealer in rare antiques. He didn’t know, for instance, that Mannering was wealthy, and his wife as wealthy in her own right; and he certainly didn’t know that Mannering had been the Baron.

No, thought Bristow sourly, you couldn’t trust Mannering to behave. He took scarifying risks, and sometimes laid himself wide open to suspicion. Many a policeman had wondered whether Quinns was an honest business; even Bristow sometimes wondered whether Mannering’s reformation had been lasting. But the night’s escapade might solve the riddle. If Gadden proved it had been Mannering, that would be Mannering’s own funeral, but there was no need to encourage Gadden.ft

Damnation on Mannering! He always blinded others to the real issues.

The death of Lithom, the ordeal of Lady Gloria – and, behind those two things, the clear evidence of a powerful gang of armed men.

They’d probably killed Lithom; better face that.

They’d certainly tried to kidnap Lady Gloria.

They’d had one go at Mannering and would probably have another. Did Mannering realize the danger to himself?

Not much doubt of that. But he’d accept it and walk into it, if he could help Lady Gloria by doing so. Quixotic, gallant fool, in spite of his air of nonchalance.

Better go down and see what was happening.

The telephone bell rang.

Bristow, still alone in the office, picked up the receiver.

He was sitting in his shirtsleeves, for it was stiflingly hot in London.

“Bristow speaking.”

“Sergeant Longley, asking for you, sir.”

“Put him through,” said Bristow, and groped for a cigarette. He lit it.

“That you, sir?” Longley’s voice was pitched low, rather like Mannering’s had been the previous day.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to be long, sir, but something pretty queer has happened. It concerns Mannering—he obtained a list of books from Lady Gloria, books which Fenner wanted. Most of the titles were found beneath a hedge near Marchant House this morning—you’ve probably heard about that.”

“Yes, go on.”

“I’d better start from the beginning, sir. Mannering was in the library early this morning, and told me he’d been picking out some titles for Quinns’ customers. I didn’t question it at the time. Then later I found two haversacks stuffed behind some books. They weren’t very dusty, and there were one or two fragments of oak leaves sticking to them.”

“Yes,” said Bristow.

“Then I discovered something that shook me pretty badly, sir. The books Mannering had picked out were the other titles on the list—follow me—the titles not found under the hedge.”

“Yes,” said Bristow, for the fourth time.

“So I’ve had a careful look at them,” said Longley, and his voice rose a little. “One of the books has been damaged quite recently—it’s got a shallow groove in the leather binding. No doubt about it being new, and not much doubt that it was caused by a bullet. The thing is, sir, that the man who broke into Marchant House got away on horseback, and if he were carrying these books on his back, they might have stopped a bullet. That’s what I think happened, and I’m wondering why Mannering picked ’em out? Or did he? I’ve been wondering whether it’s possible that he went to Marchant House last night.”

Longley’s voice was now almost shrill.

Bristow said slowly: “You haven’t tackled him about this yet, I hope?”

“Great Scott, no!”

“Then don’t,” said Bristow. “I’ll find an excuse for coming down. Don’t let him think you suspect anything.”

“So you think—”

“I don’t know what I think, but possibly Mannering has been playing the fool, and he may know more than we realize. You ought to know what these amateurs are like, and Mannering thinks he’s good. He did give you that typewritten list, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then it doesn’t look as if he wants to keep anything from us, does it?”

“Er—no,” said Longley. “No, that’s true enough.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Nothing urgent,” said Longley, sounding a little disappointed. “Mannering’s asked me to go through the books to try to find out why Fenner wanted ’em—to find out if there’s a code message in them. Seems likely, and I’m just going to have a shot at it. But as Fenner had the things, it’s possible that he’s taken any important pages out. I’ll check them, page by page, sir.”

“Yes, do that,” said Bristow. “Have you traced all the books on the list?”

“All except one,” said Longley. “That’s a chunky thing, an early Life of Johnson—I know the edition well.”

That chunky thing was on the top of Mannering’s wardrobe; and it mustn’t stay there much longer. There was no point in keeping it hidden now; Longley was on to the fact that the books had stopped bullets, and the quicker it was returned to the library, the better.

Mannering heard Longley’s last words as he moved away from the alcove, and he was in the downstairs library, with the door closed, before Longley passed. Longley went straight upstairs, while Mannering sat down in an easy chair, looking at the place where a body had lain – and wondered what Bristow was thinking. Undoubtedly he guessed who had broken into Marchant House; if he could prove it, he could make things awkward.

Better to keep this from Lorna for the time being.

The main problem remained. Proof of Lithom’s murder – and the motive for it.

And – what would Fenner do next? He wouldn’t take this setback lying down, but would certainly strike – at Gloria, or at Mannering.

Fenner had someone at Lithom Hall who would carry out his orders. The fact that Higby was of Lithom stock heightened suspicion against him. Supposing he was Lithom’s illegitimate son, and knew it? He might be possessed by a bitterness which could easily turn to hatred of everything Lithom, including Gloria.

But – Fenner’s spy might be Abel.

There was the dog, too.

Would the brute be used to strike again?

At least Gloria was well protected at the cottage; and he himself was prepared for any form of assault.

At the end of the day, Longley and Mary had discovered no pages missing from the books. Some appeared to have been rebound, which reduced their value.

Mannering had slipped the damaged book into the library; so that wouldn’t be found in his room.

While Abel had been exercising the horses, Mannering had gone into his clean and tidy room and searched it, finding nothing of interest.

He sent Higby out on an errand and, just before dinner, went through the footman’s room. Nothing he found implicated Higby.

There was no news of the dog.

Just after ten o’clock, Gadden telephoned to say that he had just visited the cottage, and all was well.

Lady Bream was restless, doubtful whether they had done the wise thing, although Dr. Chatterton had visited the cottage and approved of Gloria being there.

Yet Mannering was uneasy; the day had been a calm one, but the ‘all’s well’ had a hollow ring. Fenner would move soon, where it was least expected, and Fenner had them all on the defensive. Longley couldn’t conceal his changed attitude; Mary seemed affected by it, because Longley had locked up the library and kept the keys himself. Gadden certainly viewed Mannering with some suspicion; and that made a double anxiety. Yet he pretended to notice nothing different in Longley’s manner, and went with the sergeant on a tour of the house, seeing that all the doors were locked, and a burglar alarm system set ready against burglars.

Everyone felt the strain – worse, because none knew for certain that there was any need for it. Lady Bream was affected more than any of them; nervous and fidgety, she went to bed early.

At a quarter to eleven, Longley said that he thought an early night wouldn’t be a bad idea, and went up with Mary. Mannering wondered whether Lorna had noticed Longley’s preoccupation, but Lorna was smiling when the drawing-room door closed behind the sergeant.

“I don’t think he’s concentrating on his work,” she remarked.

“No?”

“He’s fallen head over heels in love with Mary, and I don’t think Mary’s exactly indifferent to him! Darling, you’ve turned matchmaker.”

“I’ve turned very tired,” said Mannering. “Let’s get upstairs.”

Strange that Lorna had missed the real reason for Longley’s manner.

The sense of near-trouble went with him upstairs, and the thought of Gloria began to obsess him. He started to undress, but gave it up. No use fighting against the inevitable; he wouldn’t rest until he’d been to the cottage.