"The deuce you did," cried Freddy jumping up, "did he----"
"Don't be in too great a hurry. He seems to me much too nervous a man to handle this job."
"But he belongs to the gang," insisted Laurance sharply. "He has as good as admitted that much by what he said of the perfume."
"Oh, yes, I believe he has something to do with the association, which, by the way, appears to be a kind of joint-stock company, like that one mentioned by Balzac in his story 'Histoire des Treize,' and----"
"Oh, hang your literary references," interrupted Freddy, anxiously pacing the office, "do you believe that Penn struck the blow?"
"No, I don't. The gang must have better men than he to strike."
"Or women," muttered Laurance, thinking of the false Mrs. Brown. "However, since Penn was in the crowd, and is plainly in the secret of the gang, don't you think we ought to tell the Blackheath Inspector about the matter, and also Inspector Tenson, who had charge of the Hampstead crime?"
"No," said Dan, after a pause. "If Penn is arrested and questioned, he will say nothing. As he hinted, he would be killed if he gave away the gang; so as he wouldn't split, when I threatened him on the aeroplane, he certainly won't speak out if questioned by the police. And we haven't got enough evidence to prove his complicity, remember. Better keep silence, Freddy, and let the police fog out this crime alone. Meanwhile, we can look round and keep an eye on Penn." After some argument, Laurance agreed to act as his friend suggested. It was no doubt the wiser course to take no action until absolute proof could be procured that the secretary was a member of the gang. Also, if Penn were arrested, the organization might break up and scatter out of sheer alarm, in which case all the villains would not be caught. Dan deemed it best to work quietly until the whole of the scoundrels could be netted, and to do so it was necessary to preserve silence. Thus it came about that, at the inquest on Durwin, nothing came to light likely to connect this crime with the preceding one. The hint given by Freddy in The Moment was not taken, and, indeed, was laughed at. There was neither perfume nor fly on the corpse of the unfortunate man, and consequently no link between Blackheath and Hampstead. An open verdict was brought in, and Durwin was buried without the truth becoming known in any detail. Then a new sensation took up the attention of the public. Nevertheless, both Dan and his friend were convinced that Darwin, having learned too much, had been done to death by the gang for its own safety in the same way as Sir Charles Moon had been put out of the way. They employed a private detective to watch Penn, but gave him no hint that they suspected him in any way. Through Penn, who was the sole person they knew for certain--and on the evidence of the perfume was connected with the gang--they hoped to arrive at the truth, but the time was not yet ripe for questioning him as regarded his nefarious doings. But they kept him well in sight so as to watch the path he took in life. There was no doubt that by following the same they would arrive at a gathering of the dangerous persons, whose association threatened to disintegrate society. As Dan, quoting Balzac's fiction, had observed, it was Ferragus and his fellow-conspirators in a modern setting. Dan, having lost the race, and consequently the £2,000, was short of funds, and Laurance not being rich could not lend him any money. However, the two managed to borrow a certain sum from a grasping money-lender, which supplied the sinews of war for the time being. Halliday had the Vincent aeroplane brought to Blackheath again, and made some money in his usual way by taking various people trips for short distances. Aviation was now quite a Society craze, especially for ladies desirous of a new sensation, so Dan did extremely well. A few months later he intended to attempt a cross-Channel flight, for which a French millionaire was offering a large prize, but in the meantime he got along as best he could. Nothing happened for a week or two likely to stir up the muddy water which concealed the doings of the gang, and there were no new murders. Then Dan took Lillian to a cinematograph exhibition, and made a discovery. Of course Lillian was profoundly grieved that her lover should have lost the race, but comforted herself with the reflection that he was safe. Had she been able, she would have interdicted Dan from trying further flights, especially in the face of the many accidents which were occurring in connection with aviation all over the world. Dan, however, laughed at her fears, and insisted upon continuing his dangerous vocation. Nevertheless, he promised in a moment of tenderness, to give up aviation when he and Lillian were married, though at present affairs in this direction did not look bright. As yet Dan had discovered very little likely to lead to the detection of Moon's assassin, and until that individual was brought to justice, Sir John would never consent to the match. The course of true love in these dark days was by no means running as smoothly as the pair desired. Lord Curberry haunted Sir John Moon's house, and pestered Lillian with undesired attentions until she was openly rude to him. But this did not at all damp his ardor; he merely smiled acidly and continued to send flowers and theatre seats, and lastly articles of jewelry, which she declined to accept. And always Sir John was at her elbow, croaking out what a lucky girl she was to attract the attention of the peer. With her money and his title, to say nothing of his talents, the marriage would be an ideal one. Lillian did not think so, and with the obstinacy of a woman in love with the wrong person, preferred to think of and long for Dan Halliday. More than that, with the connivance of Mrs. Bolstreath, who was heart and soul with the poor suitor, Lillian contrived to meet him at various times, and enjoy herself not a little. On these occasions they were like children let loose from an over-severe nursery. Sometimes Mrs. Bolstreath came as chaperon, and sometimes, knowing that Dan was a gentleman, she allowed them to be together alone, which, naturally, they liked much better. But on the whole, and so that no one might talk, the good-natured smiling woman followed their restless footsteps to restaurants and theatres--matinees that is--even to cinematographs. It was at one of these last entertainments that Dan received a shock. On this particular occasion, Mrs. Bolstreath was not with them, as she had gone shopping in Regent Street. An appointment had been made by her to meet Lillian and Dan at five, when the trio intended to have afternoon-tea in New Bond Street. Meantime, as it was only three o'clock, the lovers had the whole of London to themselves. The day was rather fine, so Lillian proposed to go to the unfashionable spaces of the park, where she was not likely to meet with any acquaintance. Dan was willing, and they walked along Piccadilly in a leisurely manner. Then Lillian stumbled on a biograph theatre, and read the programme. When she saw that a set of pictures represented the aviation ground at Blackheath, and the start for the London to York race, nothing would serve her whim, but that she must go in and see the film. Dan was willing to oblige her, as he also was curious to see himself in a moving-picture. Therefore, they soon found themselves being guided by an attendant with an electric-torch, through the warm darkness of the hall to a couple of well-cushioned seats. The performance was a continuous one, the pictures repeating themselves again and again, so the lovers arrived in the middle of an interesting story of which they did not know the beginning. Anxious to see what had gone before, Lillian exacted a promise from her complaisant swain that they should wait until the repetition. Dan agreed, but reminded her that this delay would mean no walk in the park. "Never mind," said Lillian, slipping her hand into his, under cover of the friendly twilight, "we can stay here until we meet Bolly in New Bond Street; you know I adore cinematographs." "And me also I hope," insinuated Dan, to which the answer was a friendly and very emphatic squeeze. As is usual with such entertainments the pictures were a mixture of comedy and tragedy, so as not to dwell too long on one note. But Lillian, in an impatient mood, waited anxiously for the aviation scenes. These were in due time thrown on the screen, and the girl gave a little cry of pleasure when she saw Dan tinkering at his aeroplane, every gesture being faithfully reproduced. Halliday himself was greatly amused by this resurrection of his doings and felt an odd feeling at coming face to face with himself in this way. But he started, greatly surprised, for in front of the crowd and disproportionately large, in comparison with the rest of the figures, he beheld the massive form of Mrs. Jarsell moving across the illuminated picture. She even paused to look round at someone in the mob, so he had a distinct front view of her powerful face. There could be no mistake, as she was a singularly noticeable woman, and when she finally passed away from the screen, he sat wondering at the odd chance which had shown him that she had been on the Blackheath aviation ground on the very day and about the very time Durwin had met with his mysterious death. Her presence suggested the possession of the Sumatra scent perfume, which in its turn recalled Penn's ownership of the same, and the scent of the dead Sir Charles Moon's clothes. More than ever Dan was convinced that Mrs. Jarsell was connected with the gang, and therefore with the two tragedies which were perplexing justice. He was glad that he had promised to wait for the repetition, and when Lillian wished to go, after she had seen the start of the picture, which had met them half-finished on their entrance, Dan urged her to stop and witness the aviation scenes once more. "It is so amusing to see one's self in this way," said Dan artfully. Lillian pouted. "I wish I could have been taken also," she said with a sigh of pleasure, and willingly consented to wait. The second view convinced Halliday absolutely that he was right. It was Mrs. Jarsell who moved so royally across the screen, and what puzzled him was that she appeared to be well dressed, without any attempt at disguise. Yet, if she had come to Blackheath bent upon crime, she would surely have worn a veil, so as not to be noticed. Still, Mrs. Jarsell, living a secluded life at Sheepeak, would not be known to any one in London, and might not think it necessary to disguise herself in any way. Moreover, if by chance she was recognized through any possible disguise, such a thing would mean the asking of leading questions. However, there was no doubt that she had been on the aviation ground when Durwin was murdered, and Dan determined to go that same night to Sheepeak and make inquiries. He was very silent when at the afternoon tea with the ladies, but Lillian chattered enough for two, and gave Mrs. Bolstreath a vivid account of the animated pictures. The companion certainly did hint that Halliday was not quite himself, but he averted further inquiries by saying that he had a headache. Then he took leave of the pair, and went to see what train he could catch to Thawley, being in so great a hurry that he did not even call on Freddy Laurance to acquaint him with his wonderful discovery. Thus Halliday most unexpectedly found himself standing on the Thawley Station platform, a few minutes after nine o'clock, as he had left St. Pancras by the six o'clock express. It was now too late to travel by the local to Beswick, for when he reached that place there was the long hill to climb to Sheepeak, and The Peacock Hotel would probably be closed by the time he got to his destination. Dan therefore decided to remain in Thawley for the night, and secured a bed at an hotel near the station. Early next morning he came to look for George Pelgrin with whom he wished to talk, and had no difficulty in finding him. A brother-porter brought the man to him and handing over his bag, Halliday requested to be led to the platform whence the Beswick local departed. Then he began to ask artful questions. Pelgrin was a big bovine creature, with sleepy blue eyes, and a slow, ponderous manner, which argued small intelligence. Dan wondered why a clever woman like Mrs. Jarsell should interest herself in such a creature, and to find out cautiously introduced the lady's name. "I was staying at your aunt's hotel in Sheepeak some time ago," said Dan, as George carried his bag over the bridge, "and she told me that you are quite a favorite with my friend, Mrs. Jarsell of The Hall."
"Aye," grinned George amiably, "that I be, sir. I come from Sheepeak, and Mrs. Jarsell she takes interest in Sheepeak folk. 'Send for George,' she says, when coming to London, and I puts her straight as she likes."
"She comes to town pretty often I expect," said Halliday lightly, "which is all the better for your pocket."