Mr. Zero

XXXI

Mr. Lushington decided not to go back to town. Mr. Brewster was instructed to ring up Railing Place and say that Mr. Lushington was returning there.

“And you too of course.” Constance Wessex-Gardner’s voice was arch.

Mr. Brewster reflected that it was a mistake to be arch when nature had provided you with a sharp, bony profile and a long, thin neck. He pictured them, shuddered faintly, and replied with his usual politeness that Mrs. Wessex-Gardner was indeed kind, and that he would be delighted.

“These politicians,” said the lady-“always so terribly busy. My brother-in-law never has a moment, but I hope that you will have some time to spare for me.”

Mr. Brewster departed from the stricter ways of truth and said he hoped so too. After which he reported to his chief, and they presently drove away together.

Mr. Lushington appeared to be in a communicative mood.

“Most extraordinary affair,” he said.

“Most inexplicable,” said Mr. Brewster. He paused, hesitated, and coughed slightly. “Would it be indiscreet if I were to enquire whether anything of importance was discovered in the safe?”

Montagu Lushington frowned.

“Mass of stuff-mostly irrelevant, I should say. They haven’t had time to go through it all yet, but from what Brook tells me there’s not much doubt that Colesborough was a most complete wrong ’un-had been for years-brought up to it by his old ruffian of a father. It seems that the old man went off the deep end at being given a baronetage instead of the barony he had set his heart on. There’s a packet of letters about it, all written to the son, saying he’d get his own back-score the Government off-score the country off. The man must have been insane. Francis Colesborough too for that matter. That’s proved by his keeping the letters. Incredible, isn’t it?”

“Most astonishing,” said Mr. Brewster in his prim voice.

“The old man’s been dead fifteen years, but Colesborough kept the letters. It’s astonishing how people do keep things. Colesborough kept some pretty compromising stuff. Brook showed me a scheme of sabotage which would have paralyzed production in every factory in the country. It was headed ‘To be applied in case of Emergency A.’ Nice stuff to find in the safe of a man who held big government contracts! It seems to me that Mr. Zero deserves a public vote of thanks instead of the hanging he’ll get when they catch him.”

Mr. Brewster coughed again.

“Is there nothing in the safe that would give a clue as to his identity?”

“They haven’t come across anything yet,” said Montagu Lushington. He gave a heavy sigh. “It’s a bad business. I’m afraid they’ll arrest Algy Somers.”

Mr. Brewster made a shocked sound.

“Oh, surely not, sir!”

“If I felt sure of that, or of anything else in this case, I should sleep better tonight.”

The Home Secretary was driving his own car. He looked straight ahead along the dark road and saw no end to it.

“Did they find that paper in the safe, sir?” said Mr. Brewster.

Montagu Lushington came back from a long way off. He had been thinking that they would probably arrest Algy tonight, and if not tonight then certainly tomorrow, unless something turned up to incriminate someone else. And if Algy were arrested, he intended to place his own resignation in the hands of the Prime Minister.

He said, “What paper?” and Mr. Brewster explained.

“The one you missed at Wellings, sir. I thought it might have turned up. You said Lady Colesborough had confessed to taking it, and I thought-”

“You made a mistake then. I certainly did not tell you that Lady Colesborough had taken the paper.”

“It must have been somebody else,” said Mr. Brewster in a distressed voice, “but I really can’t think who. Somers perhaps. Yes, now I come to think of it, I believe it was Somers.”

Montagu Lushington laughed impatiently.

“It doesn’t matter in the least, nor does the paper-now. What mattered was the list of suspected agents which was attached to the memorandum. Once Colesborough and his organization had seen that list and knew which of their men had come under suspicion, they could warn them, change them, substitute others. That was what mattered. Once Zero or Colesborough had seen the paper, the cat was out of the bag. They wouldn’t keep the paper-they wouldn’t want it.”

“Dear me-I’d no idea,” said Mr. Brewster.

“Nobody had,” said Montagu Lushington drily. “The fewer people who knew the better. I was keeping the information under my hat until the raid was over.”

“The raid?” Mr. Brewster spoke in a tone of surprise.

“Oh, it didn’t come off. It wasn’t worth while. The birds would have flown.”

Mr. Brewster said, “Dear me!”

Whilst the Home Secretary was driving towards Railing, Inspector Boyce was receiving a report from the smart young constable whom he had sent to make enquiries at the Hand and Flower.

“Sturrock was quite well known there, sir-regular customer-used to drop in in his off time and play a game of billiards. But he didn’t play this afternoon. He didn’t stay very long.”

“What did he do?”

Collins looked chagrined.

“Well, I don’t know that he did anything, sir.”

“Did he use the telephone?”

“Well, sir, they don’t know, and that’s the truth of it. He might have done, but there’s no one can say for sure. The telephone-box isn’t in the hall any longer. They used to have it there, but they’ve moved it to a sort of recess outside the smoke-room. Mr. Rudge, the proprietor, says he met Sturrock coming along the passage to the smoke-room. They had a bit of a chat-Mr. Rudge says about nothing in particular, but if the truth was known, I expect it was Sir Francis Colesborough’s murder they were talking about, Mr. Rudge not being one to miss a chance like that, if you don’t mind my saying so, nor I shouldn’t be surprised if they’d stood there for the best part of half an hour. Mr. Rudge doesn’t say that. All he says is they had a bit of a chat, and Sturrock went into the smoke-room to have a look at the papers. And that’s all I got, sir.

“What about the exchange?”

“There were half a dozen calls put through from the hotel in the course of the afternoon. I spoke to the young lady on duty, and that’s all she could tell me. She doesn’t remember any of the numbers that were asked for-said she’d have a nervous breakdown if she was to start trying to remember all the calls she put through in a day. A bit off-hand, if you know what I mean.” Collins frowned. Off-hand and worse, that’s what she’d been. One of the kind that wants taking down a peg or two. He wouldn’t mind having a shot at it himself. Bluest eyes he’d ever seen.

“Well, that doesn’t get us any farther,” said Inspector Boyce.