Читать книгу The Green Pearl - Aidan de Brune - Страница 9

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THERROLD only betrayed surprise by a sudden setting of the muscles of his face. As the girl took the book from him he bowed and turned indifferently away. But the desire for the meal had now left him. He watched the girl keenly, yet very puzzled. When she had taken the book from his hand she had looked straight at him. She must have recognised him, yet not for a single moment did she betray recognition. He watched her walk to the door. As she disappeared down the stairs, Therrold suddenly beckoned the waitress and obtained his check. Avoiding any appearance of hurry, he went down to the street. The girl was not in sight.

For some moments he searched the street in vain; then returned to the restaurant. The waitress stated that she had never seen the lady before. Therrold then sought the manageress. A carefully garbled tale, with a grossly untrue sentimental motif, resulted in a promise that if the lady again visited the restaurant the Englishman should be immediately advised.

Therrold left the place, cursing himself for a fool. He had been daydreaming and had let a valuable clue slip through his fingers. If he had watched more closely he would have recognised the girl immediately he had entered the restaurant. Then he could have turned back to the street and watched. When the girl left the place he could-have traced her, unobserved.

In Pitt Street, Therrold caught a tram to Bathurst Street and walked up towards Hyde Park. At Railton Chambers he went up to the third floor halting before a door bearing the name and designation "Martin Thorne, Foreign Agent."

Entering the general office, he asked for Martin Thorne, using, no courtesy title. The clerk looked up quickly, then, without a word, went to the inner office. He returned almost immediately and lifted the flap of the counter, in invitation. A nod indicated the inner room.

A short stout man with a ruddy, clean-shaven face, looked up at Therrold. For half a minute the Englishman stood in the doorway, then entered and placed his hat and stick on a side table. He turned to the man behind the desk.

"Martin S. Thorne?" The Secret Service Agent slightly emphasised the "S."

"Ah!" Thorne raised his brows. "You are?"

"Mark Therrold. And you?"

"B13." The words were scarcely breathed.

"Good." The Englishman held out his hand. On his palm lay the strangely shaped gold disc. Without a word the head of the Australian Branch of the British Secret Service indicated a chair beside the desk. Therrold seated himself, leaning forward. He traced an intricate pattern on the desk top. Thorne smiled. "I heard you were in Sydney," he said. "I hardly expected that you would come here. Is there trouble?"

"The Green Pearl has disappeared—stolen." Therrold spoke without emotion.

"Not for the first time, I believe." The stout man slipped down comfortably into his chair.

"Suppose you want help. You know we're short-handed here."

"One good man will do. I must have someone I can depend upon during the next few days. I suspect the manager of the hotel—he, alone, appears to have had the facilities to annex the pearl. Who he is working for I have yet to discover. I know the Soviet agents in Sydney have been instructed to recover the pearl at any cost. Then, there is a mysterious Asian who appears to have an interest in the jewel. His name is Dr. Night. But, you know the pearl's history. I want someone to watch my room."

"But you say the pearl has disappeared." Thorne looked up inquiringly.

"That is right." The Englishman hesitated. "Yet I believe that my room will be searched again by both groups interested in the Green Pearl. Of course, an agent of one of the groups has the pearl. The other group, possibly, does not yet know that the pearl has passed from my possession. I want to know and identify, the active agents of both parties. Then—"

The Secret Service Agent hesitated.

Thorne opened his eyes questioningly.

"A girl entered my room last night. I believe she was after the pearl. After the jewel had been stolen from me I saw her watching me through the half-opened door of my room. With her was Dr. Night. This afternoon I saw her in a restaurant in Hunter Street. Unfortunately she got away too quickly for me to follow. I have arranged to get word if she returns to the restaurant. I want her traced. I want to know her connections with Dr. Night." Therrold paused, to continue In a graver tone. "I warn you, Therrold, your man will be sitting in on a dangerous game. Already Detective Browne has paid the penalty for attempting to assist me. Your man will be in danger from the jump-off, for he will be a menace to both groups, as I shall have to use him as a screen behind which operate."

Again he paused.

"I don't think that I am in much personal danger, for the moment. One group has the pearl and has no reason to act against me, unless I get too closely on the pearl's tracks. The other group might even protect me; a kind of double chance of getting the pearl from where it is now. Understand?"

"Well?" Again the chief unclosed his sleepy eyes. "Your man had better act apart from me, for a time—until I give him different instructions. I will find some way to communicate with him as occasions require. Of course, we can recognise each other as guests at the same hotel. That's all, I think."

"The message from the restaurant—in regard to the girl."

"That will be a telephone message. If I am not in the hotel the slip will be placed in my room by one of the pages. Your man will have a key to my room and will get the message as soon as possible and act as he considers best." Thorne nodded. He sat up and drew the telephone to him.

"Hotel Splendide?" He spoke after obtaining the connection. "Yes? Captain Leslie Thomas speaking. I shall arrive in Sydney this afternoon. Will you please reserve a room for me. No. Yes. I have been advised to ask for No. 519. Well, if I can't have that one—what? No? 520? Yes? Oh, opposite 519. Yes, I suppose it will do. Right. Book it, please. Yes, Captain Leslie Thomas." The stout man hung up the receiver and turned to face Therrold.

"No. 520 will suit us, I think. Opposite your room. You'll remember the name—Captain Leslie Thomas. His own name; we find it best to use our proper names, if possible. Tall, fair man, with a small military moustache. Good stand, and has his wits about him. Should suit you. M'm! Well, Therrold, am I to know the full story?"

Therrold nodded. For many minutes he spoke in a guarded whisper, recounting his adventures from the day he left London for Russia. When he came to the point where he landed in Sydney and went to the Hotel Splendide the Secret Service chief became more markedly attentive. As the Englishman finished his account of the search of Rohmer's office, he interrupted:

"Let's straighten that out, Therrold. You say you took the pearl in to the office and placed it on the desk before Rohmer. The only door to the office was behind you. Before you were the windows and the desk. The Japanese screen was on your right. You are certain that Rohmer, the girl and yourself were the only persons in the room. The girl never came near the desk until after the pearl had disappeared. Rohmer was the person closest to the pearl—closer than you, in fact. You allowed no one, except the police, to enter the room until some time after it, and you three persons, had been thoroughly searched. Ergo, the pearl was in the room all the time—and after you left it."

"So?"

"You are certain that Rohmer could not have thrown the pearl out of the window?"

"I was facing the windows all the time. Again, he would have had to chance losing the pearl. The windows open directly on to the pavement."

"Then the windows are discounted. You say the room was effectively searched?"

"Very effectively." Therrold spoke decidedly. "Sergeant Browne was an experienced and thorough man. The room was thoroughly searched."

The chief meditated a moment; then cleared the centre of his desk with a sweep of his hand. Picking and choosing from the common articles, he questioned Therrold as to the places they occupied on Rohmer's desk. At length he had the scene set to his satisfaction. "Does Rohmer use a fountain pen?"

"Don't know."

"Ink well on desk?"

"Yes." The Englishman thought a moment. "Rather a wide-mouthed one—open; you know the sort of thing I mean."

"Very handsome carpet on the floor, I think you said?"

"A very fine one. Old Turkey, I should say."

"Then Rohmer was in luck that you didn't guess his trick." Thorne smiled secretly. "Yes, I'm certain that if you had guessed you'd have emptied that inkwell over his handsome carpet."

"What do you mean?" Therrold stared curiously at the man.

"You'd have found the Green Pearl—if you had emptied that inkwell over Rohmer's very handsome carpet." The chief laughed gently. "Clever trick! Just waited his opportunity and slipped the pearl into the ink well. That man's got brains. Pearl under your eye all the time and you and the police searching the room. Very, effective!"

Silently the Englishman cursed himself for a simple fool.

"Never thought of that, eh? Probably would though, if you'd tackled the problem as you gave it to me just now. One's apt to get hot at the moment and miss points. Still, you did well, Therrold; don't see how you could have acted better. Now, I've got some information that may help. At the same time you mustn't rely on me too greatly. You know you've been permitted to use your position rather largely on a private matter—the B. G. winked the other eye—but, then, there are limits."

"I had word from—you know." The chief made a slight motion with his hand. "To give you what assistance I could. You understand, of course, that we are greatly hampered here. Men and money are both lacking. You know what the Home Government is—get results without cost. We get little or no help from the Federal Government—they've got a police of a sort—remarkable inefficient. You'd better rely on the ordinary police for detail work. I'll have word got to Dixon to help you all he can. Now, get out! It was dangerous for you to come here—for you're being watched. Still, you had to risk it. I'll pass the word to London and if you want to communicate with me, tell Thomas. Good luck, man!"

Again in Bathurst Street, Therrold looked at his watch. It was a little after five o'clock, almost too early to return to the hotel and dress for dinner. He sauntered down to Pitt Street, determined to call in at the restaurant on his way to his hotel, to find out if they had learned anything about the girl. A few yards from the Market Street intersection he stopped so abruptly that several people bumped into him.

He was staring across the road at the corner of the block known as "Fashion Row." A moment's hesitation and he crossed the road and sauntered more slowly towards King Street. Before him, utterly unconscious of his presence, walked the young lady of the restaurant—the girl who had entered his rooms the previous night.

Therrold sauntered on, certain that the girl had not seen him or, if she had, did not know that he had recognised her. She was walking slowly, stopping every few yards to examine some shop window. At the King Street corner she turned abruptly and retraced her steps.

The Englishman felt caught and wondered if she would speak to him, but she passed without a sign of recognition. Again, at Market Street, she turned up towards Hyde Park, crossing the open lands to the Oxford Street corner. Here she had to wait a few minutes before the traffic at the five ways intersection allowed her to cross to the opposite side.

In Oxford Street she, quickened her pace and about three hundred yards up the road entered a small antique shop. Therrold wandered if the girl lived there. He determined to wait. In about a quarter of an hour the girl emerged from the shop and walked to a tram stop. There she boarded a Bondi tram.

Impatiently, the Englishman looked for a taxi. He would follow the girl and discover where she lived. Then, another thought came to him. What had the girl been doing in the shabby shop? Telling the taxi driver to follow 'he walked to the antique shop window. The shop door was open and Therrold hesitated whether to enter or not.

He could see a slatternly woman, lazily wielding a feather duster amid a motley collection of antiques. As he watched she called on someone in the rear room, and the man came into the shop. He spoke to the woman and then went to a corner and switched on the shop lights. As the man turned again to face the woman Therrold started in surprise. The man, evidently the owner of the shop, was an Asian—in every point answering to the description detective Browne had given of the master crook, Dr. Night.