Lynton Hora was not to be allowed to escape. That was the decision arrived at, after the prolonged conference at the Foreign Office, and Detective Inspector Kenly's mind was thereby disburdened of the fear lest all his efforts should have been wasted. He would have liked to have made certain of one prisoner there and then, but this was forbidden him. He had no belief in repentant offenders, and to him Guy appeared nothing more. Still Flurscheim refused to charge Guy. Captain Marven undertook to be responsible for his answering any charge, Sir Everard Markham added his persuasions, and Sir Gadsby Dimbleby declared that he would take it as a personal insult if Guy were arrested before the Master Criminal was laid by the heels. The Great Man was far too great a man for a detective inspector to offend, and so Guy left the Foreign Office with Captain Marven to await the summons to surrender himself, when information of Hora's arrest should reach him.
The Captain was very grateful for the respite, none the less because he had not personally urged it. For a little while his son would be with him. As yet the prison stain was not upon him. He was pathetically anxious to become acquainted with the grown child who was so soon to be torn away again. Duty may be sometimes an over-hard task-master, yet he faced it manfully, and could at least find some small consolation in the fact that his son faced it as manfully as himself.
Detective Inspector Kenly saw them drive away together, and, as he caught sight of the look of pleasure on the face of the King's Messenger, he was not altogether sorry that he had been compelled to forego the arrest.
"It's a curious tangle," he muttered. Then he hailed a cab, and gave the address of a police court. Ten minutes' interview with the magistrate was all he sought, and, when he re-entered the waiting cab, he had in his possession two documents—a warrant for Lynton Hora's arrest, and a search warrant for the flat in Westminster Mansions.
Thus provided for all emergencies, he drove straight away for Hora's residence. There was no time to be wasted. From what he had learned during the afternoon it was clear that Lynton Hora must be aware that at any moment his deeds might be brought to light, for Guy had been called in to the conference, and he had revealed all that had passed between himself and the man he had believed to be his father.
On arrival at Westminster Mansions Inspector Kenly stamped his foot with vexation on learning that Lynton Hora had gone out. His subordinate was absent, too. If flight was in Hora's mind, the sergeant would obey the instructions and detain him. Kenly determined to make use of the absence to execute the search warrant in his possession. But he was not going to leave anything to chance. He telephoned to Scotland Yard for further assistance, and, pending its arrival, he chatted with his old friend, the hall porter, and from him he learned that the other occupant of the flat had also gone out that morning, and had not returned. This seemed more like preparation for flight than ever, but Myra's absence also left him a clear field for his investigations. A very few minutes elapsed before the assistance he had asked for arrived. He left one of the two plain-clothes men in the hall and took the other with him upstairs. No one was aware of the nature of their business, and the two men entered the flat with the service key. Kenly did not waste time on a careful examination of the lower rooms. He went directly to the floor leading to the attics where Hora's "collection" was stored. He only wanted to verify the information which Guy had given as to the whereabouts of the Greuze. He had long since provided himself with a key to the lock of the door so that admission to the attics presented no difficulty. Guy had spoken truly. Kenly found the Greuze and the snuff-boxes stolen from Flurscheim's house. He saw also that there was a rich store of other articles in locked cabinets and cases, for which no doubt he would be able to find owners. But he did not linger to examine them. There would be plenty of time for that after Hora had been apprehended.
After he had been apprehended! Kenly did not allow himself to consider the possibility that he might escape. Yet as minutes passed by and the minutes added themselves into hours, he began to be uneasy in his mind. His uneasiness became acute apprehension when, as dusk was falling, the subordinate to whom had been entrusted the duty of shadowing Hora returned to the Mansions alone.
A rich variety of objurgations rose to the Inspector's tongue, but there was no time to be lost in uttering them. He enquired where Hora had been lost sight of. The man explained to the best of his ability. He had followed Hora to Waterloo railway station, had heard him take a return ticket to Worcester Park, had himself booked to the same destination, had taken a seat in the next compartment, had watched to see whether he alighted at any intermediate station, and on arrival at Worcester Park had discovered that the compartment in which Hora had travelled was empty.
Kenly reflected. Worcester Park was two stations further down the line than Wimbledon. What if Hora had wished to see Jessel again? He turned to the man. "Was Hora carrying a small black bag and an overcoat on his arm?"
"Yes," was the reply.