Читать книгу The Golden Bat - Fred M. White - Страница 7

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The police constable looked at Ray with a certain puzzled admiration, and was evidently anxious to know what all this deduction meant. And Ray was in the mood to tell him.

"Now, look here," he said. "Quite between ourselves, and it doesn't go any further, you understand. We are on the verge of a very big thing here, and if you do exactly as I tell you and keep your mouth shut, you ought to get something out of it for yourself. Look at those four brown marks, like the twigs of a tree. Close together, aren't they? Now, what do you make of them? But, of course, you don't know. Well, to my mind, they are the marks of a greasy fork."

"So they are, sir?" the constable cried. "Precisely. A four-pronged fork."

"Yes, a four-pronged fork that has fallen off a plate. A greasy fork probably with bacon fat on it. But that is a detail. You will notice that, save for a little fine dust settled on them, the lines are quite distinct and clean. Therefore, they must have been made within recent memory. Somebody has been living here, or hiding here, almost under the eyes of you local police, and you haven't been any the wiser. Oh, I know. This is a lonely spot, and if these people have been using the Thatched House for a hiding place, or as a rendezvous for a big robbery gang, it would not be easy to spot them, and they could come and go almost as they liked. At any rate, they have been here lately, feeling quite sure that they were safe in Mr. Moon's prolonged absence. Not a bad idea, either. Come along, we will go and have a look round the house, and see if we can find anything."

For an hour or more, Ray searched the place from top to bottom without coming on anything further in the way of a clue. There were no provisions in the house, from which he deduced the fact that whoever was using the bungalow for illicit purposes was taking no risks. Probably they brought their provisions with them each time they came. He had more then a shrewd notion whose was the master mind behind the whole business. But that, for the moment, was quite a small issue. Apart from the clue in the bedroom, there was nothing to suggest that the house had been used for months, everything was nearly put away in its place, there were no papers or documents, nothing so far as Ray could see, beyond the hundreds of cases of tropical insects on the walls. He knew something about these, and a close examination of them was a work of unadulterated satisfaction. And then, when he had almost finished his search amongst that mass of brilliant colouring, he pulled up with a start presently in front of a certain case.

It was only a small box, some twelve inches square, with a front of glass, but behind it was an undoubted specimen of the Golden Bat. Here was something, at any rate, that was more than worth the trouble he was taking in the matter. The Golden Bat was supposed to be unique, the loveliest insect in the world, and one which even Moon, the greatest authority on the subject, confessed in his latest work that had, up to now, successfully evaded him. And yet, here it was, tucked away amongst his collection as if it had been there for a number of years.

But Ray knew better than that. He knew perfectly well that this case had only recently been placed in position, and, moreover, that it was the specimen which had been taken away from Lord Barlington's place during the recent burglary. But who had caused it to be put there? Why had it been added to this collection without loss of time? If Moon had been in England, it would have been a different matter. There was only one man who could have had a hand in this, and that was Keen. By some means or other, the Golden Bat had come into Keen's possession, following the sensational burglary, and here it was, in damning evidence against him.

But this, for the moment, was of minor importance. Ray laid his hand on the case, and, with a little patience, managed to detach it from the wall. As he expected, it was not fastened to the plaster, but had been forced into a space which, by sheer accident, more or less fitted it. Very carefully, so as not to damage the beautiful insect inside, Ray laid the case on its edge.

"There you are," he said to his companion. "Now, I don't suppose you attach much importance to this exquisite butterfly, but it is going to prove of vital consequence to some people. That, my friend, is called a Golden Bat, and is probably the only specimen in the world. If you should ever come across another one, I shall be glad to hear about it without delay. However, that is very remote. Now, look here. You will notice that the side of this case is made of thin sheets of mahogany, which, up to lately, were highly varnished. If you look closely, you will see that the varnish has been sandpapered off, and even planed at the edges. Have you any idea why?"

"I think so, sir," the officer said cheerfully. "I should think that it has been pared down to fit that space."

"That is one up to you," Ray said. "Quite right. And I should say—Hello—what have we here?"

Without waiting for an answer to his own question, Ray lifted the next specimen case from its hook on the wall. It was a large case, and disclosed the wall paper behind, which showed up, not clean and unfaded as it should have done, but stained and discoloured, with here and there broken patches which had been gummed down again by strips taken from the edge of a sheet of stamps. To the ordinary eye, there was nothing here out of the common, but those shiny fragments seemed to interest Ray to an extraordinary degree.

"Ah, now we are getting on," he said. "Go as far as the local post office, and bring me back a few pieces of that sort of stamp paper. When you return, I will show you something."

The officer departed, obviously unwillingly, and the door had hardly closed behind him when Ray got to work. With a thin-bladed knife he removed the almost transparent paper, taking infinite pains not to disturb the surface below. Then, when this was finished, he removed the large square of wallpaper in its entirety, and disclosed a square cavity beyond. Into this, he thrust his arm as far as it would go, but even then he had not reached the far end of the opening. Presently on the table lay a complete set of house-breaking implements, together with the tools used in the opening of safes. It was far the most complete and elaborate plant that Ray had ever seen, and he felt really enthusiastic on the subject of the finish and workmanship. He was a connoisseur in such things, and for quite a long time he stood there looking almost lovingly at the shining steel, tempered to perfection, and the gas plant which was a model of neatness, and compactness, which left nothing to be desired.

But the secret hiding place was by no means exhausted yet. The next thing that came to view was a small parcel of uncut Brazilian diamonds, some specimens of platinum, and what appeared to be a sort of legal document, in Spanish, which Ray proposed to read, in due course, at his leisure. Last of all, he removed a large registered envelope, containing a mass of papers, and some faded photographs, which were evidently amateur work, but which Ray, with his knowledge of the subject, felt sure had been taken in the light of some foreign sun. It was impossible, in the time at his disposal to go through the whole of these, and very reluctantly Ray was on the point of abandoning the idea. At the same time he was sure that he had stumbled upon a really important clue, which clue might slip through his fingers altogether. It would be bad luck if the people he was after decided to remove the whole of them to another place, but the contingency was there, and on the spur of the moment Ray had to decide what he was going to do about it. Then the solution flashed into his mind.

"Yes, I think I can do that," he told himself. "These people would not have any suspicions, and I should have the original documents in my own hands, without their being any the wiser. I think this is a job for my friend, Martin Cranston, that is, if I can only find him. Well, I am going to take the risk, and if Cranston happens to be out of London, I will put these back to-morrow. Yes, I think that in the right thing to do."

A few minutes later the local constable returned and laid the thin strips of paper on the table. His eyes opened wide, and he gave a gasp of astonishment as he saw the litter there.

"Mean to say you have found all that, sir?" he asked.

"That, and a great deal more," Ray smiled drily, as he placed the registered envelope in his pocket. "Now perhaps you begin to understand what we are up against here. I don't suppose you have had much experience with up-to-date burglars, but let me tell you that is the finest set of house-breaking and safe-breaking implements that I have ever seen. Scotland Yard contains nothing like it. That little collection on the table there must have cost every penny of £5000. Now perhaps you begin to understand what we are up against."

"Good lord, sir," the policeman gasped. "Not the big gang? Not the lot that the Chief was telling me about?"

"It looks like it, the cleverest lot in England. And this is their headquarters. Not a bad idea, eh, for them to come here and hide themselves in the empty house of an innocent old gentleman, who devotes his life to collecting butterflies? About the last place in England where anybody would look for them."

"Ah, you are right there, sir. But we'll keep a watch. Now that we know where to look for them, we'll——"

"You will do nothing of the kind," Ray said curtly. "That is the last thing in the world I want. Neither you nor any other officer must come near this place, except in the ordinary course of duty. I don't want any bungling amateurs getting in my way. If it is necessary for the house to be placed under observation, it will be done from London. You tell your chief that I don't want to see him again if I can help it, because one never quite knows who is hanging about. Now, come along and help me to put these things back where they came from."

It was rather a long job, but presently the sheet of wallpaper was replaced and the bits of gummy substance put back again exactly as they had been before. Then the cases were restored to the wall, and at length Ray professed himself to be satisfied.

"I think that is all for the present," he said. "You go quietly back to your station, and I will get away across the fields. And mind, not a word of this to anybody but your chief. I shall probably want you later on, and if you show yourself discreet and alert, I won't forget to put in a good word for you with the people of Scotland Yard when the time comes."

Ray made his way back to London again by a somewhat circuitous route, and once in his rooms, got on the telephone to Barle, whom he was fortunate enough to find in his office. He gave him a brief comprehensive account of what had taken place, and the great man professed himself to be satisfied.

"Well, you haven't been wasting your time, anyhow," Barle said. "We shall know exactly what to do when the right time comes."

"But that won't be yet, surely?" Ray asked uneasily. "For heaven's sake don't get in my way now. Of course, we could lay the whole lot of them by the heels if we raided the place when they were there, but I want a good deal more than that. There is something more than mere burglary behind this business, which has a great deal to do with my future. Please don't take any steps in this matter without consulting me first."

"Oh, you can make your mind easy on that point," Barle laughed. "I will leave it entirely in your hands, and if you fail, your blood will be on your own head."

"I am not going to fail," Ray said doggedly. "This is going to be a big sensation. One of the biggest of our time."