our number will carry out your instructions minutely. If the operations are
complicated, he will return to you with a report and you can instruct him
further.”
“You’re tying my hands,” complained Tommy. “It’s a very delicate affair,
and the other fellow will muff it up as likely as not, and then where shall I
be? I don’t believe one of you has got an ounce of tact.”
The German rapped the table.
“Those are our terms. Otherwise, death!”
Tommy leaned back wearily.
“I like your style. Curt, but attractive. So be it, then. But one thing
is essential, I must see the girl.”
“What girl?”
“Jane Finn, of course.”
The other looked at him curiously for some minutes, then he said slowly,
and as though choosing his words with care:
“Do you not know that she can tell you nothing?”
Tommy’s heart beat a little faster. Would he succeed in coming face to
face with the girl he was seeking?
“I shall not ask her to tell me anything,” he said quietly. “Not in so many
words, that is.”
“Then why see her?”
Tommy paused.
“To watch her face when I ask her one question,” he replied at last.
Again there was a look in the German’s eyes that Tommy did not quite
understand.
“She will not be able to answer your question.”
That does not matter. I shall have seen her face when I ask it.”
“And you think that will tell you anything?” He gave a short disagreeable
laugh. More than ever, Tommy felt that there was a factor somewhere that he did
not understand. The German looked at him searchingly. “I wonder whether, after
all, you know as much as we think?” he said softly.
Tommy felt his ascendancy less sure than a moment before. His hold had
slipped a little. But he was puzzled. What had he said wrong? He spoke out on
the impulse of the moment.
“There may be things that you know which I do not. I have not pretended to
be aware of all the details of your show. But equally I’ve got something up my
sleeve that you don’t know about. And that’s where I mean to score. Danvers was
a damned clever fellow—-” He broke off as if he had said too much.
But the German’s face had lightened a little.
“Danvers,” he murmured. “I see—-” He paused a minute, then waved to
Conrad. “Take him away. Upstairs–you know.”
“Wait a minute,” said Tommy. “What about the girl?”
“That may perhaps be arranged.”
“It must be.”
“We will see about it. Only one person can decide that.”
“Who?” asked Tommy. But he knew the answer.
“Mr. Brown—-”
“Shall I see him?”
“Perhaps.”
“Come,” said Conrad harshly.
Tommy rose obediently. Outside the door his gaoler motioned to him to
mount the stairs. He himself followed close behind. On the floor above Conrad
opened a door and Tommy passed into a small room. Conrad lit a hissing gas
burner and went out. Tommy heard the sound of the key being turned in the lock.
He set to work to examine his prison. It was a smaller room than the one
downstairs, and there was something peculiarly airless about the atmosphere of
it. Then he realized that there was no window. He walked round it. The walls
were filthily dirty, as everywhere else. Four pictures hung crookedly on the
wall representing scenes from Faust. Marguerite with her box of jewels, the
church scene, Siebel and his flowers, and Faust and Mephistopheles. The latter
brought Tommy’s mind back to Mr. Brown again. In this sealed and closed
chamber, with its close-fitting heavy door, he felt cut off from the world, and
the sinister power of the arch-criminal seemed more real. Shout as he would, no
one could ever hear him. The place was a living tomb….
With an effort Tommy pulled himself together. He sank on to the bed and
gave himself up to reflection. His head ached badly; also, he was hungry. The
silence of the place was dispiriting.
“Anyway,” said Tommy, trying to cheer himself, “I shall see the chief–the
mysterious Mr. Brown and with a bit of luck in bluffing I shall see the