"Eh! man, would a lady like her come chattering to a humble body like me," was the landlady's reply, as she laid the table rapidly, "not that she saw the race, mind you, Mr. Halliday."
"Oh, but she must have," replied Dan, with pretended surprise, "she promised to come and see me start from Blackheath."
"She did not go to London," persisted Mrs. Pelgrin, her eyes becoming angry at the contradiction, "I mind that well, because she came to see me about some eggs on the very day you were flying, and says she, 'It will be a good day for Mr. Vincent's machine to win the race.'" "Are you sure?" asked Dan, more puzzled than ever to find that the stories of Mrs. Pelgrin and her nephew were in accordance with one another. "Do you take me for a fool," cried Mrs. Pelgrin, her sallow face becoming a fiery red; "am I not telling you again and again that Mrs. Jarsell never went to see your rubbishy race. She came here to get some eggs from me, and sat in this very room at nine o'clock, or a little after. You take me for a liar, you--you--oh, I'll best see to the dinner, or I'll lose my temper," and the sharp-tongued woman, having already lost it, bounced out of the room. "Mrs. Jarsell was here at nine o'clock, or a little after," repeated Dan, in a wondering tone, "then she could not have been in London. All the same, I swear I saw her on that cinematograph." Here he opened his bag and took out an "A.B.C.," to see the trains from Thawley to London. An examination showed him that, even if Mrs. Jarsell had left Thawley Station at nine o'clock exactly, she would not have reached St. Pancras until twelve-five. This would scarcely give her time to arrive at Blackheath. The aeroplanes had started in the race at one o'clock, and, according to the evidence at the inquest, the people had been looking at them flying northward at the moment Durwin was stabbed. Mrs. Jarsell could not have arrived on the ground by one o'clock if she only got to St. Pancras at mid-day. And then, to do that, she would have been obliged to leave Thawley at nine o'clock. According to George she had not been near the station on that day, and if Mrs. Pelgrin was to be believed, she was in the very room he now occupied at the hour when the express departed. It was clearly impossible that she could have got to Thawley for the nine o'clock train, let alone it being impossible that had she caught the express she could have arrived in London to execute the crime by one o'clock, or a trifle later. Yet, on the other hand, was the evidence of Mrs. Pelgrin and her nephew, while on the other hand was the evidence of the cinematograph. One or the other must assuredly be wrong. Of course the landlady and George might be telling lies, but on the face of it there was no need for them to do so. Moreover, as Dan had sprung his questions on them unexpectedly, they could not have been ready with false answers. "She must have used a motor-car," thought Halliday, restoring the "A.B.C." to his bag, "yet even so, she was here at nine o'clock, and could not have reached town in the three hours and odd minutes. D---- it!" Mrs. Pelgrin brought in the dinner with compressed lips and showed small disposition to chatter. Anxious not to arouse her suspicions by asking any further questions, Dan began to talk of other matters, and gradually she became more friendly. He told her that he had employed George and had given him half-a-crown, since the mention of money appeared to melt her into civility more than did anything else. Mrs. Pelgrin smiled grimly and observed that "George was a grasping hound," an amiable speech which did not argue that she was on the best of terms with the sleepy-eyed man at Thawley Station. After Dan had learned indirectly all he could from her he sought out Vincent's cottage, only to learn that the inventor and his niece were absent for the day. As he could frame no excuse to visit Mrs. Jarsell there was nothing left for him to do but to travel back to town; therefore he found himself once more in St. Pancras Station, comparatively early in the evening, wondering what was the solution of this new problem.
CHAPTER XII
[AN AMAZING ADVENTURE]
Next day Dan went to look up Laurance and have a consultation, as he was considerably puzzled over the new problem and did not know exactly how to act. But Fate was against him, so far as having a second opinion was concerned, for Laurance proved to be absent. An anarchistic plot, of which The Moment desired to know the details, had taken him to Vienna, and it was probable that he would not return for at least a week. Halliday might have expected something of the sort, as in the prosecution of his business Freddy was here, there, and everywhere, never knowing his next destination, which depended entirely on the latest sensation. But hitherto few startling events had summoned Laurance out of England, and Dan had been accustomed to always finding him on the spot for a consultation. He left the office of The Moment in a rather disconsolate frame of mind. There was no doubt that Halliday badly needed someone to talk to about the matters which occupied his thoughts. But, failing Freddy, who was working with him, he did not know any one worth consulting--anyone, that is, whose advice would be worth taking. Certainly there were the two inspectors of police--one at Hampstead, and one at Blackheath--who were deeply interested in the respective deaths of Moon and Durwin. They would have been delighted to discuss the entire business threadbare in the hope of solving the mystery of the two crimes. But Dan did not wish to bring the police into the matter until he had more evidence to go upon. After all, what he knew concerning Mrs. Jarsell and Penn was both vague and uncertain, while the clue of the perfume being so slight might be scouted as ridiculous by these cut-and-dried officials. What Halliday wished to do was to establish a connection between the doings at Sheepeak, Blackheath, and Hampstead on evidence that could not be questioned, so that he might submit a complete case to the police. He could not do this until he acquired positive proof, and he desired to acquire the same by his own endeavors supplemented by those of Laurance. Therefore, as Freddy was away on business, and Dan did not care about placing his unfinished case before the inspectors, he went about his ordinary affairs, waiting for his friend's return. This was all that he could do, and he did it reluctantly. A hint from Lord Curberry had evidently made Sir John more vigilant as regarded his niece. Dan called at the house and was denied an interview; he wrote a letter and received no answer; and although he haunted Bond Street and Regent Street, the parks and the theatres, he could catch no glimpse of Lillian. After three days of unavailing endeavor he went to Bedford and attended to the transfer of his aeroplane to Blackheath, bringing it up in the train personally. Then he put it together again, and took short flights in the vicinity of London, after repairing the damage done to the propeller. All the same, his heart was not in the business of aviation at the moment as the detective fever had seized him and he felt that he could not rest until he had solved the mystery of the two crimes. But at the moment, he saw no way by which he could advance toward a consummation of his wishes, and simply fiddled away his time until the return of Laurance. Then, after a threshing out of details, he hoped to make some sort of move in the darkness. But Fate decreed that he should act alone and without advice, and the intimation of Fate's intention came in the form of a short letter from Marcus Penn, asking for an interview. "I am confident," wrote the secretary, "that from what you threatened in the aeroplane you suspect me of knowing something relative to Sir Charles Moon's murder. As I am entirely innocent I resent these suspicions, and I wish you to meet me in order that they should be cleared away. If you will meet me at the booking-office of the Bakerloo Tube, I can take you to the person who gave me the perfume. He will be able to tell you that I have no connection with any criminal." Then the letter went on to state day and hour of the appointment, and ended with the feeble signature of the writer. Dan always thought that Penn's signature revealed only too plainly the weakness of his character. Of course he intended to go, even though he remembered that Penn had declared the identity of the person who had given him the perfume. His cousin in Sumatra had sent the same to him, the secretary had said, yet he now proposed to introduce Dan to another person, who was the donor of the scent. Unless, indeed--and this was possible--the Sumatra cousin had come to England with the intention of exonerating Penn. Certainly, Penn might mean mischief, and might be dexterously luring him to a trap. But Halliday felt that he was quite equal to dealing with a timid personality such as the secretary possessed. Also, when going to keep the appointment, he slipped a revolver into his hip-pocket, to be used if necessary. It might be--and Dan's adventurous blood reached fever heat at the mere idea--that Penn intended to introduce him to his brother scoundrels, who constituted this mysterious gang. If so, there was a very good chance that at last he might learn something tangible concerning the organization. Undoubtedly there was a great risk of his losing liberty if not life, and it was impossible to say what precautions this society of cut-throats might take to preserve its secrets. But Halliday was not of a nervous nature, and, moreover, was willing to risk everything on one cast of the die, instead of lingering in suspense. He therefore got himself ready without saying a word to any one, and kept the appointment. And, indeed, now that Laurance was absent, there was no one to whom he could speak. It chanced to be a somewhat foggy night when Dan descended to the underground in Trafalgar Square, but out of the darkness and in the light he had no difficulty in recognizing Penn. The secretary was well wrapped up in a heavy great-coat, and welcomed the young man with a nervous smile, blinking his pale eyes furiously, as was his custom when much moved. However, he spoke amiably enough, and appeared to bear no malice against his companion, notwithstanding the threat in the aeroplane. "I am glad you have come, Mr. Halliday," said Penn in a would-be dignified tone, "as I wish to clear my character from the grave doubts you cast upon it when we last met."
"Your admissions favored the grave doubts," retorted Dan lightly. "I spoke foolishly, Mr. Halliday, as I was quite upset by your threats."
"H'm! I wonder to see you trust yourself again to such a bloodthirsty being as I am, Mr. Penn."
"Oh, I knew you were only bluffing in the aeroplane," said the secretary in a meek voice and with a shrug. "The means you took to escape further questioning showed me that!" The dry tone of Dan stirred the man's chilly blood to greater heat. "You have no right to interfere with my private affairs," he said furiously. "But when those affairs have to do with a crime----"
"They have not. I know nothing about the matter," Penn's breath was short, and he tried to keep his voice from quavering. "When you see my cousin he will prove that he gave me the scent."