CHAPTER XXVI
FLECKS OF WHITE POWDER
It did not take more than twenty minutes to cover the distance betweenPortman Square and the Imperial Institute, and they found thataristocratic building a veritable whirlwind of repressed excitement. Itwas closed to the public, and downstairs in the outer hall was alreadyassembled an army of expert packers, ready to despatch the units of theexhibition to their respective galleries. But toward none of these mendid the two stolid-looking policemen give even a passing glance.
It was the redoubtable secretary whom Cleek was most anxious to see, andtwo minutes later found him in that gentleman's presence. Narkom'sassertion that Mr. Belthouse was "half out of his mind over the matter"had prepared him to find an excitable, fear-shaken, harassed official,while his own expectations were of seeing a shifty-eyed individual whohad succeeded in effecting a clever coup. He found instead aserious-faced, undemonstrative man of about forty-five, with the kindesteyes and the handsomest and most sympathetic countenance he had seen formany a day.
"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Headland," he said, heartily, after thefirst formalities were over; and Cleek, who had assumed, as he alwaysdid at first introduction, a heavy, befogged expression indicative ofincompetence, felt his suspicions of Charles Galveston Belthouse meltingaway like snow beneath a winter sun. "This business has me distracted,and if you can hunt up any sort of clue that'll keep the directors quietfor a few days, I'll be only too glad. When I undertook to see thisbusiness through for my friend, the Marquis of Willingsley, I didn'texpect to run up against the British police."
"It's a pretty tall order, Mr. Belthouse," said Cleek, scratching hishead perplexedly, "but I'll have a thorough look around, anyway."
If he had anticipated any sign of confusion upon the part of Mr.Belthouse, he was wholly disappointed, for the man, with a sudden andunexpected burst of enthusiasm, seized his hand and pressed it warmly,saying heartily:
"Oh, do, Mr. Headland, do. Search anywhere, do anything that will get onto the track of the thieves. One blessing is, they cannot offer thestatue for sale in open market. It is intrinsically utterly valueless,and what the object of stealing it at all is I can't imagine. Still itmust be got back somehow, without the Italian Government's knowing whathas happened. Personally, I don't mind saying, I'll give every penny Ihave in the world, if only you can get it restored safe and sound."
Cleek darted a swift look at the speaker, but the man was evidently indead earnest.
"Your sentiments do you credit, sir," he said, stolidly, "and I'll do mybest. First of all, who was it that discovered the actual loss of thestatue?"
"I did, myself," was the prompt reply. "I came early to see whichstatues were to be sent off first, and although some ten minutes werespent pacifying a confounded woman----"
Cleek twitched an inquiring eyebrow.
"Oh, an indignant female who stayed too late and got locked in allnight."
Cleek looked at Mr. Narkom, as if mutely asking why he had not been toldof this fact before, and Mr. Narkom looked back blankly at his ally.
"First I've heard of it," he said, quickly, and the secretary lookedfrom one to the other in bewilderment. Then he laughed.
"Why, what's wrong? You don't think that a fat old woman could havesmuggled out the Capitoline Venus in her reticule, do you? I never gavethought to her on that score. She says she got locked in one of thedistant galleries, and though she hammered and shouted, she couldn'tmake a soul hear. She went off in a cab that one of our men fetched forher--wouldn't have a taxi, must have a fourwheeler--and swore vengeanceagainst the whole board of directors. She declared it had been done onpurpose, and we should hear from her solicitors. Regular old virago, Ido assure you."
"Did you get her name and address?" asked Cleek.
"Good gracious, no. I was only too glad to get rid of her. I dare sayThompson can give you the address she gave the cabby, though. I'll sendfor him, if you like."
"Yes, do, please," said Cleek. "I don't suppose there is any connection,but you never know your luck. What happened after the young lady--didyou say?--had gone?"
"Young lady!" The secretary smiled broadly. "She was about sixty-five ifa day, with a face like a full moon, and a ridiculous child's hatperched on her head. She was no Venus, I assure you. After she had goneI went upstairs with my friend, Doctor Montret--I had met him justcoming down the Cromwell Road, and I was jolly glad he was with me--whenwe came plump on the body of poor Scott. The sight of it and that emptypedestal gave me all sorts of thoughts of murder and burglary, butMontret soon found that the poor fellow had died naturally. As I takeit, he must have been making his rounds and when he came down thegallery, and discovered the loss, he dropped dead with the shock. Butyou shall see for yourself."
While talking he had led the way down one passage and up another, tillthey were in the actual gallery from which the famous statue had somysteriously vanished. It stood out in one of the wings of theInstitute, its steel-barred windows on each side, being some thirty orforty feet clear from the ground. The walls were lined with pictures,not one of which obviously had been moved, and it seemed impossible forsecret entry to have been made either during the day or the night.
The empty pedestal stood some six feet away from the wall, against whichstood some heavy grouped figures and examples in plaster of bas-relief.
For a few minutes Cleek walked aimlessly round and round the gallery,his eyes dull and heavy, his face stupidly blank in expression.
Suddenly he looked up at the exquisitely painted ceiling and gave aninane little chuckle that caused the secretary to look at him insurprise.
"I see," he exclaimed. "I wondered where it came from; but I suppose youhave had the ceiling repaired--eh, what?"
If ever a man looked puzzled, it was the secretary.
"Ceiling repaired?" he echoed. "Really, Mr. Headland, I can't understandyou. What on earth makes you think that?"
Mr. Headland pointed to two or three flecks of powdered plaster,obviously dropped from the ceiling above, but the secretary only gave alittle sniff of contempt.
"Vibration of the traffic," he exclaimed. "No one's been near theceiling." He turned suddenly. "Ah, here is Thompson. If you think youwill want that address----?" He was clearly not very taken with thedeductive powers of Mr. Headland, and he showed it very plainly.
"Yes, sir," said Thompson, when Cleek had questioned him. "Quite plain Iheard it: 'Imperial Mansions, Shepherd's Bush,' and I dare say I couldfind out from the cabman himself. He's sure to be on the stand outside."
Dismissed on this errand, he left the gallery, while Cleek wandered tothe window, which looked out on a little courtyard. His eyes notedalmost unconsciously the presence of a large moving van standing nearthe gateway to the street.
"Oh, Mr. Belthouse," he exclaimed, "going to move the blessed statues ina furniture van?"
Mr. Belthouse joined him, but his voice was even more irritable as heexclaimed:
"Certainly not; that must be for the effects of the caretaker. She haslived in the basement, but she said she was moving as soon as theexhibition was over. And now, perhaps, Mr. Headland, if you don't mindmy saying so, my time is valuable. So if you will ask me anything elseyou want to know----?"
Cleek stopped short in his prowl at the top end of the gallery, andstood, looking the very picture of perplexity.
"This case fair stumps me, Mr. Belthouse, I must say. Perhaps youwouldn't mind telling me where this door leads to?"
He touched the frame of a door almost concealed by a huge picture whichwas hung across it.
"That? Oh, that, I believe, opens on to a passage which leads to thecaretaker's quarters. Very estimable people, the Perrys, mother anddaughter, and I should say the Institute people will be sorry to losethem. They are moving, as you noticed, and into the country. This door,though, has been kept locked and screwed up--you can see the screws foryourself, can't you?--so there has been no possible means of ingress oregress. Anything else, Mr. Headland?"
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p; Mr. Headland shook his head dolefully.
"Nothing to be learned here. I think I'd like to get that address, theold woman's, you know," he added, meekly.
"Oh, that! Still thinking of that elderly Venus, eh? Well, I'll go andfind Thompson for you myself," said the now openly sneering Mr.Belthouse.
"Any ideas, old chap?" whispered Mr. Narkom, as his ally bent down andtouched another few flakes of plaster-like white powder.
"Bushels," was the laconic reply. "But when a mouse gets into a trap,what does it do?"
"Why, stays in, of course!" said the mystified Narkom, and Cleek gave alittle satisfied laugh as he lurched to the end of the hall where Mr.Charles Galveston Belthouse, in a supremely bad temper, arrived a momentlater in company with the stalwart commissionaire, Thompson.
"No go, sir; no sign of that blessed cab, and the taxi men never noticedit on the stand before. They are rare in these parts nowadays, sir. Ihardly expected to get one, only the good lady was set on it. Said shewouldn't go near one of those dangerous motor things, and the way shesniffed even at the cabby----!"
A queer little smile crept round Mr. Headland's mouth.
"It's of no importance, my man. I don't think we shall want either thecab or the good lady again."
The man returned to his own post, and Cleek followed the secretary fromthe gallery. But a little distance away he stopped short, feeling in hispocket, then uttered a little cry of dismay.
"I thought I heard it. Excuse me, sir, it's my pen. I dropped it. Won'tkeep you waiting a minute."
He turned and ran swiftly back, returning some three minutes later, thepen in his hand, a smile on his face, and still further patches of whiteon his coat that would have suggested to even a less keen observer thanMr. Narkom that he had been very near to the ceiling.
"And now to see the body, Mr. Belthouse," he said, briskly, lookingplacidly at that gentleman's perturbed face as he opened the door of alittle room wherein had been borne the body of the unfortunatepoliceman.