Call Mr. Fortune · Case I (2/3)

“They’re a wild lot,” said Sir Lawson, and smiled. “You have no nerves, Fortune?”

“I believe not, sir.”

“This ought to be the making of you. You want shaking up. You must stay in the house. By the way, who’s in the house?”

“The Archduchess, of course⁠—”

“Ianthe. Yes. Aunt’s in a madhouse. Ianthe. Yes. Crazy on motoring. Drives her own car. And have you see Ianthe⁠—since?” Sir Lawson nodded at the body on the bed.

“She is very excited.”

“Is she really?” Sir Lawson laughed. “Is she, though? How surprising!”

“She is surprising, sir.”

“What? What? Be careful, my boy. Handsome creature, isn’t she?”

“Yes, sir.” Reggie declined to be amused. “The Archduke Leopold is staying with them.”

“Leopold. He’s the dandy entomologist. He’s tame enough. Well, he’s the head of the house after this fellow. Better tell him.” He blinked at Reggie. “You have nurses you can trust? Well, we’ll stay in the room till one comes, my boy. Our friend of the hatpin won’t miss a chance. These Royal families they’re a crisscross of criminal tendencies. Hohenzollerns, Hapsburgs, Pragas, Wittelsbachs⁠—look at the heredity.”

“There was another running-down case here tonight. The man was killed⁠—fractured skull. He was left on the road too. And another queer thing⁠—he was much the same build as the Archduke Maurice.”

“Good Gad!” Sir Lawson was startled out of his omniscient manner, an event unknown in Reggie’s experience. “There’s something devilish in it, Fortune. One murder⁠—the wrong man dead⁠—and then try again at once the same way. Imagine the creature looking at that poor dead wretch and jumping on the car again to drive it on at the other man. Diabolical! Diabolical!”

“I don’t think I have much imagination, sir,” said Reggie, who was not impressed by ineffective emotion.

There was a gentle tap at the door, a nurse came and was given her instructions, and the two men went down to the Archduke Leopold.

He had changed his clothes. He was now in a claret-coloured velvet which did violence to his complexion and his pale beard. He sat in the smoking-room with a book on the entomology of Java and a glass of eau sucrée. He smiled at them and waved them to chairs.

“I have to tell you, sir, that your brother lies in grave danger,” said Sir Lawson.

Reggie looked at him sideways.

“Ah, the concussion! It is serious, then? I am deeply distressed.”

“The concussion is most serious. There’s another matter. In your brother’s chest above the heart, at which it must have been aimed, we have found⁠—this.”

“Mon Dieu! It is a hatpin⁠—a woman’s hatpin. But it is incredible! It is murder.”

“Attempted murder.”

“But what do you suggest, sir? Do you accuse someone?”

“Not my function. That pin was driven at your brother’s heart by someone. Can you tell me any more, sir?”

The Archduke buried his face in his hands. “I will not believe it,” he muttered⁠—“I will not believe it.” After a little he controlled himself. “Gentlemen, you have a right to my confidence. I will tell you everything. I trust you to do all that is possible for my poor brother and for the honour of our family, which to him, as to me, is dearer than life. You know that he is the heir to the throne of Bohemia. My uncle, the Emperor, has long been vexed with his living in England. I came here to persuade my brother to go back to his country. My poor brother had made his home here at the wish of the Archduchess, who dislikes the duties of royalty. He was passionately, madly, in love with her. But, alas! in these love marriages there is often difficulty. They were not of the same mind upon many things, and the Archduchess is of a vehement temper. I fear⁠—but you will forgive me if I say no more. I take one small thing. My brother loved to go walking. The Archduchess is passionately fond of her motorcar, drives it herself, loves wild speed. My brother detested motorcars. I fear that my coming gave them cause for fresh quarrels. My brother was ready to go back to Bohemia. The Archduchess was violently opposed to it. I confess to you, gentlemen, I have feared some scandal, some madness. I thought she would leave him. But this⁠—it is appalling.”

“The Archduchess was out in her motorcar tonight?” Sir Lawson said.

“Yes. Yes. It is true. But this⁠—must we think it?”

“We have to think of nothing but our duty to our patient,” said Sir Lawson.

The Archduke grasped his hand. “You are right. I thank you. I shall not forget your fidelity.”

The Archduchess whirled into the room. She, as Reggie remarked, had not cared to change her clothes. She had not even touched her hair, which was escaping in a wild disorder from under her hat. “They will not let me see him,” she cried. “Leopold⁠—”

“It is by my instructions, madame,” Sir Lawson said. “I am responsible for the Archduke’s safety.”

She bit her lip. “Is he so hurt?” she said unsteadily.

“He lies in very grave danger, madame. I permit no one in his room.”

She stared at him, her throat quivering, her great eyes bold and bright. Then with a little shrug she turned away and, plucking at the gold things which jingled from her waist, took out a cigarette and lit it. Reggie saw one of those foreign matches with the violet heads.

Sir Lawson made his bow, and Reggie went with him to his car. “Why did you tell them that the Archduke was in grave danger?” he said.

“He’ll be safer if they believe he is going to die,” said Sir Lawson.

“Oh, do you think so?” said Reggie, as the car shot away.

Then he made an excellent supper and slept sound.

He found his patient peaceful in the morning. No sign of consciousness yet, but more colour in the cheeks, a deeper breathing and a stronger pulse, more warmth. “The Archduchess has come twice in the night to ask about him, doctor,” the nurse said. “I told her he was no better.”

“Did she make a noise?” Reggie frowned.

“No, she was very good.”

Reggie went out to take the air, and the air is not bad on the Westhampton heights. He made a good pace under the great beeches of Boldrewood, and came out on the open road across the heath. Just there he had found the dead man. A dull red stain could still be seen. It was farther on that the Archduke was struck. Just beyond the turn to Brendon. He found the place. There was a loosening of the road, as if a heavy car had been brought up sharply or made a violent swerve. He walked to and fro scanning the ground. Another of those foreign matches.

He was just picking it up when a motorcar stopped a few yards away. Two men jumped out and came towards him. One was middle aged and singularly without distinction. The other had a youthful and very jaunty air, and it was only when he came near that Reggie saw the fellow was old enough to be his father. An actor’s face, with that look of calculated expression, and an actor’s way of dressing, a trifle too emphatic. His present part was the gay young fellow.

“Dr. Fortune, I think?” He smiled all over his face.

“I am Dr. Fortune.”

“Reconstructing the crime, eh? Oh, you needn’t be discreet. I’m Lomas⁠—Stanley Lomas⁠—Criminal Investigation Department, don’t you know? Sir Lawson Hunter came round to me last night. Patient’s doing well, I see. That’s providential. Just a moment⁠—just a moment.” He skipped away from Reggie to his companion, and they went over the ground. But Reggie thought them very superficial. Lomas skipped back again. “He didn’t bleed, then. The other man did, though⁠—the man you found.”

“In the middle of the road. And I found him dead in the gutter.”

“It’s quaint what the criminal don’t think of. I’m surprised every time. Did you find anything here?”

Reggie held out his match. “There were two more like that by the other man.”

Lomas turned it over. “Belgian make. You buy them all over the Continent, don’t you know.”

“The Archduchess carries them.”

“Now, that’s very interesting. If you don’t mind I’ll walk up to the house with you.” Upon the way he praised the beauties of nature and the quality of the morning air.

As they came to the door of Boldrewood a big car passed them with the Archduchess driving alone. Lomas put up his eyeglass. “She’s not overcome with grief, what?”

“Not quite.”

“Might be bravado, don’t you know.”

“I don’t know.”

“It takes some of them that way,” Lomas said pensively. He turned on the steps of the house and looked after the car as it wound in and out among the beeches. “Striking woman. Yes. I’ll come up to your room, if you don’t mind.”

“I thought you wanted to say something,” Reggie said.

Lomas did not answer till they were upstairs. “Well, no. Not to say anything,” he resumed, and lit a cigarette. “I want another opinion, as you fellows say. Sir Lawson Hunter has made up his mind.”

“Oh, he always does that.”

Lomas lifted an eyebrow. “Well, look at it. Somebody in a car laid for our Archduke. The other poor devil was cut down by mistake. And the somebody had nerve enough to go on. That’s striking. The Archduchess comes of pretty wild stock. In love or out of love she wouldn’t stick at a trifle. You find her matches by each body. You find a hatpin in the Archduke. That’s a blunder, what? Yes, but it’s a woman’s blunder. She finds he isn’t quite dead after all her trouble, she is desperate, and⁠—voilà.” He made a gesture of stabbing.

“So you’ve made up your mind too, Mr. Lomas?”

Lomas blew smoke rings. “I’m wasting your time, doctor. I want to know⁠—has it occurred to you⁠—the Archduchess and the Archduke Leopold⁠—working it together? If she’s fallen in love with Leopold. That straightens it out, don’t you know.”

“Guess again,” Reggie said.

Lomas lit another cigarette. “Well, that’s what I want to know. You saw them together just after the crime.” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Nothing doing,” said Reggie.

“I’m afraid so. I’m afraid so. It’s a disturbing case, doctor. Nothing doing, as you say. If I had all the evidence in my hands, I expect there’s no one I could touch. You can’t indict royalty. The Archduke’s smash⁠—well, let’s say it’s all in the family. But this poor devil they killed! Who’s to pay for him? These royal dagoes come over and run amuck on an English road, and I can’t touch them. Disheartening, what? That’s the trouble, doctor.”

Reggie nodded and, as his breakfast made its appearance, Lomas rose to go. He would not have even coffee. “Better get busy, don’t you know. We must see if we can put the fear of God into them. If they’ll go scurrying back to Bohemia it’s the best way out.” He skipped off, his jauntiness put on again like a coat.

Reggie was standing at the window with his after-breakfast pipe when the Archduchess brought her car back. She was very pale in spite of the morning air, and her face had grown haggard. “Something’ll snap,” Reggie was saying to himself, when a voice behind him said aloud, “Nice car, sir.” He jumped round and saw standing at his elbow the insignificant little companion of Mr. Lomas. “After all, there’s nothing like an English car,” said the little man.

“Oh. You’ve noticed that?” Reggie said. “You do notice something, then?”

“Of course we aren’t gifted, sir. But we’re professional. Something in that, don’t you think? Yes, sir, as you say: we have noticed something. It was a foreign car, and foreign tyres did the trick last night. And the Archduchess drives English. And yet⁠—did you know we had the other half of the hatpin? I picked it up last night.” He held out a scrap of steel with a big head of wrought silver. “German work, they tell me.”

“Viennese,” Reggie said.

“You know everything, sir. Such a convenience. But Vienna being quite near Bohemia, as I’ve heard⁠—looks awkward, don’t it?”

“Is that what you came to say?”

“Not wholly, sir. No. I am Superintendent Bell. Mr. Lomas sent me to you. He considered you might find it convenient to have someone in the house who could keep an eye open.”

“Very kind of Mr. Lomas.”

There was a tap at the door. The Archduke Leopold’s valet appeared. The Archduke Leopold was much surprised that Dr. Fortune had not brought him news of the patient. The Archduke Leopold desired that Dr. Fortune would come to him immediately.

“Really?” Reggie said. “Dr. Fortune’s compliments to the Archduke, and he is much occupied. He can give the Archduke a few moments.”

The valet, having the appearance of a man who has never been so surprised in his life, retired.

“It’s a gift,” Superintendent Bell murmured. “It’s a gift, you know. I never could handle the nobs.”

Reggie began to get together some odds and ends: a bottle full of tiny white tablets, a graduated glass, a jug of water, a hypodermic syringe. “You’d better clear out, you know,” he said to Superintendent Bell.

“Will he come?”

“He’ll come all right,” Reggie said, and took off his coat. When he turned, Superintendent Bell had vanished.

“Just setting the stage, sir?” said a voice from behind the curtain.

“Confound your impertinence,” Reggie growled. “Here⁠—”

But the Archduke came in. He was now a decoration in a russet brown. “You are very mysterious, Dr. Fortune,” he complained. “I expect more frankness, sir.”

“My patient is my first consideration, sir.”

“I desire that you will consider my anxieties. Well, sir, how is my brother?”

“You may give yourself every hope of his recovery, sir.”

The Archduke looked round for a chair and was some time in finding one. “This is very good news,” he said slowly, and slowly smiled. “Mon Dieu, doctor, it seems too good to be true! Last night you told me to fear the worst.”

“Last night⁠—was last night, sir,” Reggie said. “This morning we begin to see our way. All the symptoms are good. I believe that in a few hours the patient will be able to speak.”

“To speak? But the concussion? It was so dangerous. But this is bewildering, doctor.”

“Most fortunate, sir. You might talk of the hand of Providence. Well, we shall see what we shall see. He may be able to tell you something of how it all happened. You’ll pardon me, I’m anxious to prepare the injection.” He dropped a tablet in the glass and poured in water. “Fact is, this ought to make all the difference. Wonderful things drugs, sir. A taste of strychnine⁠—one of these little fellows⁠—and a man has another try at living. Two or three of ’em⁠—just specks, aren’t they?⁠—sudden death. Excuse me a moment. I must take a look at the patient.”

He was gone some time.

When he came back the Archduke was still there. “All goes well, doctor?”

“I begin to think so.”

“I must not delay you. My dear doctor! If only your hopes are realized. What happiness!” He slid out of the room.

Reggie went to the table and picked up the glass of strychnine solution. From behind the curtain Superintendent Bell rushed out and caught his arm. “Don’t use it, sir,” he said hoarsely. Superintendent Bell was flushed.

“Don’t be an ass,” said Reggie. He put the glass down, took up the bottle of tablets, turned them out on a sheet of paper, and began to count them.

“Good Lord!” said Superintendent Bell. “You laid for him, did you? What a plant!”

“You know, you’re an impertinence,” Reggie said, and went on counting.

“I’ll get on to Mr. Lomas, sir,” said the Superintendent humbly.

“Don’t you telephone or I’ll scrag you.”

“Telephone? Not me. I say, sir, you’re some doctor.” He fled.

Reggie finished his counting and whistled. “He did himself proud,” said he. “The blighter!” He shot the tablets back into their bottle, found another bottle and poured into it the solution, and locked both away. “Number one,” he said, with satisfaction. “Now for number two.” He went off to his patient and spent a placid half-hour chatting with the day nurse on dancing in musical comedy. But it was hardly half an hour before the Archduchess tapped at the door.

Reggie opened it. “This way, if you please, madame.” He led the way to his room. “I have something to say.” She stood before him, fierce, defiant, and utterly wretched. “I can promise you that the Archduke will recover consciousness.”