Chapter 25 Irene Does Not Return
A YOUNG MAID opened the door. She had a vacuous prettiness which did not suggest either that she was of a criminal kind or that she was one whom criminals would be likely to employ. She looked fit for the breaking of china; minor stupidities; I possibly pert replies.
Nothing more serious would be likely to occupy or disturb her mind.
"I have come," Kindell said, "from the American Embassy. A suitcase was delivered here yesterday in mistake for this one. The labels got accidentally changed. Perhaps I had better see Mrs. Collinson. His Excellency wished me to apologize and explain."
The girl's jaw dropped slightly. "I believe," she said, "as it's been taken away. I'd better tell the missus."
"If you please," Kindell replied, and the girl went to seek her mistress, leaving him at the open door.
She returned next minute, saying, "The missus says as it's nothing to do with her, but you can leave it if you've a mind."
But, as she said this, which, it may be safely assumed, was a very free rendering of Mrs. Collinson's actual words, that lady appeared behind her, having evidently decided that something was happening with which she should deal herself. She said: "That's all right, Becky. I'll see the young man myself." Becky retired, and Mrs. Collinson took her place.
Kindell said: "His Excellency wishes me to express his regret for the mistake which has been made. He wishes me to explain that the valise came as part of his own luggage, but Mr. Kindell had provided a label to be used for its delivery to you, and that label was very carelessly put on to another suitcase."
Mrs. Collinson did not look particularly interested. She said: "Well, you"re a bit late. He took it away half an hour ago. It's really nothing to do with me . . . But you can leave it, if you think that's the best course. I daresay he'll come back when he finds he's got the wrong one."
"We are naturally anxious to get that one back," Kindell replied. "Don't you think you might telephone him, and explain? He wouldn't be likely to see what was inside without bursting it open, and it would be a pity not to let him know what's happened before he does that."
Mrs. Collinson looked stubborn. She said at last, "Well, I don't mind you using my 'phone, if you think that would be any help.
"Thank you. If you will let me know his number, I'll get through at once."
"His number?" Mrs. Collinson looked surprised. "I've no idea. I scarcely know him at all. I've been puzzled as to why he used my address." And then, as one who was conscious of some cause for resentment, but did not wish to be unmannerly to those who were not directly concerned, she added: "But I suppose it would be in the telephone book. If you'd like to try that - - "
She moved aside as she spoke, inviting him to enter, but he was not attracted by the comedy of ringing himself up at his empty room. He said: "I don't think that's really necessary. It would be going beyond my instructions. His Excellency might prefer to do it himself. . . . If you would very kindly telephone us when the case is returned, we will fetch it without delay."
He had rested the one he had brought on a hall chair as this conversation proceeded. Now he withdrew his hand, and moved backward to the door.
Mrs. Collinson looked at it, he thought, for one doubtful second, as though she would prefer to tell him to take it away but other considerations prevailed. She called sharply to Becky who appeared from the end of the hall, and said to her: "You'd better let this stay here till Mr. Kindell comes for it. He's taken the wrong one. You'll have to see he leaves that, and we ll let this gentleman know."
"If he finds he's took the wrong one, we'll soon be hearing him at the bell," Becky foretold, and Kindell, having lingered to see as much as he could, withdrew with an added realization of how difficult it was to obtain conclusive evidence against the evasive tactics which these wealthy criminals so adroitly used.
His next action must obviously be to take back the car, and to excuse himself to the ambassador for returning alone. He was not entirely at ease on the last point, remembering the condition on which Irene and he had set out together, though he felt no apprehension for her safety, and felt that there was sufficient justification for the course he had taken.
But his doubt was soon removed when he found that Mr. Thurlow, after listening to his narrative in attentive silence, said with more cordiality than he had often shown him during recent days: "Well, I'd say you've made a good job of that. It sounds as though you've put the cops on the right track, and it won't be long before they'll be able to haul in the line."
"I was a little afraid," Kindell said frankly "that you might think that I shouldn't have let Irene go on alone But it was either that or - - "
"It was either that or leaving her to take back the valise," the ambassador agreed, "and you'd got to put the cops wise which you'd do better than she. I'd say you did it the best way and Irene isn't a fool. Sitting in a taxi watching another car that doesn't know she s on its track oughtn't to be any headache to her. It isn't as though your toughs make a habit of shooting it out in the London streets."
Kindell's own mind, which was not entirely at ease, could not resist the soundness of this argument, and he was relieved that Mr. Thurlow took the matter in so sensible a way. He saw that to the American mind, there could be no ready recognition of danger in London streets. And it was mere recognition of the obvious to see that, whoever might be in the grey car, their first thought, even if conscious of observation, would be to avoid anything which would draw further attention to themselves. They believed themselves to have a very valuable and damning quantity of illicit drugs in their possession. Surely, their only thought would be to elude pursuit in the busy streets. Irene should be in no danger from them; and she was with a taxi-driver whose number was known,
"Well," Kindell said, "I ought to ring up the Yard now, if you don't mind my doing it from here."
The ambassador waved his hand toward the instrument in reply. He said: "It's through to the exchange now. Go ahead." He was soon having the benefit of Kindell s part in a conversation from which it quickly became evident that something unexpected had happened - something that Kindell found it hard to believe, and that it was no pleasure to him to hear.
The connection being quickly made, Kindell asked, Is that Superintendent Allenby speaking?"
"Yes. Where are you?"
"At Grosvenor Gardens. . . . Yes, I'm with His Excellency now. I've delivered the valise to Mrs. Collinson. I handed it to the woman herself."
"Yes. We know that. What did you say was the number of the grey car?"
"CFS6402."
"Certain?"
"I was behind it for more than a mile."
"Well, it couldn't have been."
"Sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but I know it was."
"Will you describe it again?"
"Low, streamlined. Painted light grey. New. Looked as though it might have been in the showroom a week ago."
"Maker?"
"Couldn't say certainly from a back view. Starmar, fourseater de luxe, at a safe guess."
"That's the car, and it wasn't there."
"You mean the number was a fake?"
"They couldn't fake the car."
"It isn't easy to see how. But it was there, all the same. What makes you think differently?"
"We don't think. We know. A constable stopped it in Regent Street half an hour ago. It belongs to Rose Courtney."
"You mean the Rose Cour - - ?"
"Yes. The actress."
"Then it means she's in it. That's all."
"It doesn't mean anything of the kind. The car had been waiting outside the Lyric, while she'd been rehearsing, for two hours. There are a dozen witnesses to that. Probably more."
"All the same, what I told you was right. You'll find Miss Thurlow will say the same."
"Is she home yet?"
"No. There's not been overmuch time."
"There'd have been lots of time if she'd been following that car till we picked it up. She hasn't been doing that since then."
"And she hasn't reported to you?"
"She certainly hasn't. And we haven't heard of any other grey car trying to get away."
"Well, when you do hear from her, you'll find that I wasn't wrong."
"Yes. I hope we shall."
"There'll be the taxi-driver, as well as she."
"So there will. You'd better come here at once. And leave a message asking Miss Thurlow to ring us up quickly if she gets home before we've heard from her."
"Yes. I'll do that. I'll be with you in ten minutes."
Kindell put back the receiver. He turned to the impatient ambassador to say: "There's some fool muddle. They say the car belongs to Rose Courtney, and I must have mistaken the number. I'm not such a fool as that."
"They haven't heard anything of Rene?"
"Not yet. They want her to 'phone at once if she gets back here before she's reported to them."
"She wouldn't do that. Not on what you told me. She'd ring them up the moment she stops following the car."
"It looks as though it's been a long chase. . . . But the police wouldn't let it get very far. . . . I've got to go to Scotland Yard now, and make them get it into their heads that I didn't make any mistake. When they believe that, they'll have taken the first step to getting at whatever the truth is. . . . Yes, I'll 'phone you the first minute there's anything to report. . . . And you'll let me know when Irene gets back?"
"I sure will. But I'm not worrying about her. Rene knows how to look after herself."
Kindell hurried away. He thought, from the ambassador's tone, that he spoke rather to bring conviction to his own mind than because it was already there. And his own anxiety was not easy to keep under control.
When he had gone, Mr. Thurlow's demeanour changed. He frowned thoughtfully, muttering:
"It sounds a queer business to me."
He paced the room restlessly, as the minutes passed, and Irene did not return.
He reminded himself that the valise had gone. There was no longer any possibility that His Excellency the Ambassador of the United States to Great Britain would become notorious to an astounded world as a harbourer of illicit drugs. He must find satisfaction in that. And any escapade in which Irene might now be engaged was not of an official character. She was not even in an embassy car.
But he telephoned twice at short intervals to Scotland Yard for information they could not give, and when seven-thirty came, and she was still absent, he irritably ordered that dinner should be held back, as "Miss Thurlow may be coming in any minute now."
He pulled open a drawer in his desk and looked gloomily at an automatic which had been most often in his hip-pocket when he had been in the livelier atmosphere of his South em State.
But he closed it again without picking up the weapon. He had already been accused of driving a knife into a French policeman. Was he to make the idea credible by going gunning in London streets? And where would he propose to go? Well, Professor Blinkwell would do for a start.
He had to remind himself sharply of whom, and in what country, he was. It was a land in which ambassadors' daughters were quite safe, even though they should elect to follow grey cars through its metropolitan streets. But if - - Well, he found some grim satisfaction from the thought that the gun was there.