War-time Silhouettes Part 12

Bobby was horrified.

"Those are my instructions, Mr. Froelich, and I am afraid I must ask you to come with me. My colleague, Sub-inspector Dane, is to remain here in possession, and I am afraid I must ask you to hand him your keys."

"My keys?" Bobby felt in his pockets. "What sort of keys do you mean?" He pulled a gold chain out of his pocket to which were attached his latchkey and a few others. He held them in his hand, and ticked them off one by one mechanically. "This is the key of the cupboard where I keep my cigars and liqueurs; this is the key of my dispatch-box. I don't think I've got anything else locked up."

"Have you no safe, no desk or other receptacle where you keep your papers, Mr. Froelich--doc.u.ments of any kind?"

"Papers--doc.u.ments?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bobby. "No, I haven't got any doc.u.ments or papers. What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm afraid it will be the duty of Sub-inspector Dane to search your apartment, Mr. Froelich, and I want to save you from having anything broken open if it can be avoided."

"There is nothing to break open. I don't lock anything up except cigars and things of that kind, and as to my dispatch-box, there's not much there either. I hardly know what there is--I haven't looked inside it for ever so long. There may be a few private letters."

"What sort of letters?" asked the inspector.

To Bobby this sounded menacing.

"Oh, I don't know; perhaps there may be one or two--well, what shall I call them?--love letters, I suppose. Anyhow, here are the keys." He handed them over to the other man as he spoke.

"Call a cab." The inspector spoke to his subordinate.

"I say," asked Bobby apprehensively, "am I going to be locked up?"

The inspector hesitated slightly. Bobby's innocence seemed to strike him.

He was not the sort of person he was used to arresting.

"I am afraid it's more than likely, Mr. Froelich."

"Can't I change my clothes?" queried Bobby. "You see, I've got on evening dress, and I suppose I shan't have a chance of getting out of it."

The inspector reflected a moment.

"Oh yes, Mr. Froelich. I don't see why you should not change, but I'm afraid I must ask you to let me accompany you."

"Well, I'm--D'you think I'm going to try and escape?"

"Oh, I don't say that, Mr. Froelich, but sometimes things happen on these occasions, and it's my duty to be on the safe side. I'm sorry to inconvenience you."

"Come on in, then." Bobby led the way into his dressing-room, and in a few minutes he was rolling off with his strange companion to some destination unknown.

After the most uncomfortable night Bobby had ever spent in his life he was escorted next morning by Sub-inspector Dane to Scotland Yard. He was ushered into a waiting-room, and there he sat with the inspector, waiting until he should be summoned before the a.s.sistant Commissioner. Had he been able to see what was going on in the adjoining room, he would have been exceedingly surprised.

The a.s.sistant Commissioner, one of those public servants whose quiet, un.o.btrusive manner covers a strong character and a great efficiency, was sitting at his table talking to Harold Clancey. They were in earnest consultation.

"Then I understand, Captain Clancey," said the a.s.sistant Commissioner, "that this lady has got clear off?"

Clancey smiled serenely.

"Oh, rather! Address: Hotel des Indes, The Hague--quite a comfortable place and quite an important German espionage centre."

"I gather that our man was too late."

"By some hours, I should say," Clancey replied. "You see, we only got the report in from France quite late. I sent your man to watch her while I went to see Froelich. I was sure he was all right, but I wanted to satisfy myself. By the time I reached our place I found the chief in the deuce of a stew. Your man had got back, and reported that she'd gone.

They'd kicked up the devil's delight at Headquarters, and the chief was out for blood. He was determined to arrest somebody, and I suggested Ramsey, but he got purple in the face and told me he'd instructed your people to bag Froelich. I thought this quite idiotic, but it relieved the chief's feelings, and it was too late to do anything sensible. We knew the s.h.i.+p she took; of course, she was much too clever to sail under the English flag. Naturally we wirelessed, but they won't dare touch her.

After that last row it's hands off these Dutchmen."

"And the view of your department, Captain Clancey, is that it's useless for us to detain Mr. Froelich?"

"Absolutely useless. I can swear to it. As I told you, I don't know him well, but I know all about him, and I am satisfied of his complete innocence, and that he is entirely unaware of Madame de Corantin's objects and activities."

"Then what do you propose that we should do, Captain Clancey?"

"I propose nothing at all, Mr. Crane."

"What, after her getting those pa.s.sports?"

Clancey twisted his moustache.

"That's a matter which concerns spheres altogether over my head, Mr.

Crane."

"But Mr. Ramsey says that it's entirely owing to Mr. Froelich's introduction that he provided the lady with pa.s.sports, that he'd known her through him, and having been a friend of Mr. Froelich for many years, he had implicitly trusted him. He was here only a few minutes before you came, and he told me that there was no doubt at all but that he had been the victim of a conspiracy between Froelich and this Madame de Corantin.

He admitted that he ought to have been on his guard, considering that Mr.

Froelich's name was German, and of course it was natural that he would have German sympathies."

"Um! And what do you think, Mr. Crane?"

The a.s.sistant Commissioner was silent for a moment.

"You see, I don't know Mr. Froelich," he said.

"But you do know Mr. Ramsey," replied Clancey.

"Not well."

"What about his chief? You know him well enough. Why not ask him?"

The a.s.sistant Commissioner's answer was to throw a note across the table to his questioner. It ran as follows--

WAR OFFICE.

DEAR MR. CRANE,--

I desire you to take the most rigorous measures without fear or favour regarding this matter of the pa.s.sports accorded to Madame de Corantin.

There has been a disgraceful dereliction of duty, and I intend to make an example of the offender, whoever he may be.

Yours very truly,