CHAPTER IX.

  THE POLITICAL COVES.

  For the better part of their journey to town Caldegard and RandalBellamy ate their hearts in silence. The road was good, and they had italmost to themselves.

  As they were nearing London, Caldegard spoke.

  "Bellamy," he said, "that brother of yours won't stop at killing if----"

  "He'll begin with it," replied Randal, "if he gets a fair chance."

  "It gives me unreasonable hope," said Caldegard.

  "Men who've trusted Dick would call your hope reasonable."

  "Yet he's sent us after Ambrotox," complained the father, "and myheart's breaking for my little girl."

  "His argument convinced you, anyhow," said Randal.

  At New Scotland Yard Sir Randal's card gained them instant admission tothe presence of the Superintendent of the Criminal InvestigationDepartment.

  He listened without a word to Randal's compact and lucid statement ofthe facts.

  "It's a good thing I was kept here so late to-night, gentlemen," hesaid. "We shall act without losing a moment in the matter of yourdaughter's disappearance, Dr. Caldegard. But the theft of your secret,of which both Sir Charles Colombe and the Home Secretary have spoken tome, is a matter of such tremendous importance, that I am obliged tocommunicate immediately with both these gentlemen and the Commissioner.And you will be doing me a great kindness if you will both remain hereuntil I hear from them."

  An hour later a sombre group of six, after protracted discussion, seemedalmost to have exhausted the evidence, suggestion and counsel whichcould be brought to bear upon a crime so sudden and so obscure.

  Sir Charles Colombe looked anxiously round him as he spoke.

  "That is the danger," he said, "which we have to face: that these foulpests of society should escape with Professor Caldegard's discovery andmaster his secret--a peril to which all the dangers mankind has runsince the world began from greed, bigotry, alcohol and opium are child'splay. The bill of which Sir Gregory has just spoken would give us powersto lay hands on all these local branches of what Superintendent Finucanehas described as 'the Dope Gang.' We know already some twenty-five orthirty of them. If we were as well advanced in our knowledge of theircentral organisation, we might even now do something fairly vigorousunder the law of conspiracy. As it is, we can only proceed againstindividuals trafficking in and supplying certain specified drugs. Thesecret of this greatest drug of all must not, if human power can preventit, come into the hands of the inner ring before we have our grip on it.Needles, before now, have been successfully hunted in haystacks, andperhaps even you, Professor Caldegard, have no adequate conception ofhow close the meshes are in the net Superintendent Finucane isspreading. And I should like you to understand, sir," he said, drawingnearer to the old man who sat staring with fixed eyes out of a ghastlyface, "that, though our duty makes us think of millions where you canthink only of one, every effort which the Criminal InvestigationDepartment makes, every trap it lays, every device it contrives torecover your property is equally adapted to finding your daughter. Inyour fear for her safety you have forgotten your drug; in our fear forthe drug we cannot let your daughter out of our minds."

  "She may be--dead," said Caldegard.

  The Superintendent answered him.

  "I don't believe it," he declared. "You see, sir, the thief's planworked smoothly, bar the one unexpected factor--the young lady in theroom. If he didn't kill her then, he don't mean to kill her."

  "That's my brother's argument," said Randal, adding his word of comfort.

  There was a tap at the door, and a constable entered.

  "Sir Randal Bellamy's chauffeur, sir," he said to Finucane. "He hasbrought this letter. Says it's from Mr. Richard Bellamy."

  Randal glanced at the note and then read aloud:

  "Melchard's the man we want. Get his address. 'Phone cut outside. Wire me address P.D.Q."

  "From my brother Richard," he said. "Dr. Caldegard knows this Melchard,I believe."

  When Caldegard had told them all he knew of the man, the Superintendentlooked at the Commissioner,

  "I think, sir," he said, "we'd better inquire about Mr. Alban Melchard."

  "Rather a wildgoose chase," grumbled the Home Secretary.

  "I shouldn't wonder, sir," replied Finucane, "if Mr. Richard Bellamyisn't a very wideawake young gentleman."

 
Oliver Fleming's Novels