The mummy and Miss Nitocris
George Chetwynd Griffith (1906)
Country of origin: UK
Available texts by the same author here
Chapter XVII: M. Nicol Hendry
Franklin Marmion sat down and began to think the situation over. It was not an easy one, for, as it appeared to him, it would be very difficult, if not impossible, for Nitocris and himself to help in the elucidation of the Zastrow mystery, and the prevention of any European complications that might arise out of it, on both the higher and the lower planes of existence. Of course, it would have been perfectly easy to do so in one sense, for now, practically nothing in human affairs was impossible of achievement to them; but, on the other hand, it would never do to allow people on the lower plane to become aware of their extra-human powers. This was out of the question for many reasons, not the least of which was that they had their lives to live under the ordinary conditions of time and space and among their fellow-mortals, every one of whom would shun them in fear, perhaps even horror, if they knew their secret. What, for instance, would happen to Nitocris in her temporal state if even only Merrill came to know it? No, the idea was certainly beyond the possibility of consideration.At the same time, it was to some extent necessary that they should work on both planes if they were to reap the full advantage of their recently acquired powers, and out of this dilemma there appeared to be only one way open to the Professor: he must have the assistance of others to do on the lower plane the work that he would, as it were, direct from the higher. The question was, who? Obviously it must be some one upon whose discretion absolute reliance could be placed. He must be highly skilled in police work, and have a reputation to enhance or lose as the result might decide. Suddenly a name occurred to him. A short time ago his friend the President had been telling him the inner story of a very intricate case which had involved a scandal of two Courts. Only the most meagre details had obviously been permitted to appear in the papers, but His Lordship had told him that it had been solved and settled almost entirely by the skill and diplomacy of a M. Nicol Hendry, who held the little advertised but highly responsible position of Head of the English Department of the International Police Bureau.
"That's the very man," he said, "the very man, and I shouldn't wonder if he's engaged on this particular case. It's too late to wire, and, besides, that would look suspicious. I could telephone to Scotland Yard, but I don't want even the police to know I want him until I've seen him. No, I'll write a note: it will go by the early post, and no one will know where it comes from."
Just as lunch was over the next day the front door bell tingled, and presently the parlour-maid knocked, and came in with a card on a silver salver:
"I have shown the gentleman into the drawing-room, sir. He says that he has an appointment with you for half-past two."
"Very well: I will be up in a moment, Annie." Then, as she closed the door, he gave Nitocris the card, and continued: "Our ally on the lower plane that may be. You say you wouldn't care to be present and help me with your opinion?"
"Oh no, Dad. I don't want any one to know that I am taking any part in this little adventure. But if you will introduce him afterwards, I'll tell you what I think. You know, women generally judge other people that way."
"Very well," laughed her father, as he turned to the door, "that will be best. If everything goes right and I think I can work with him, I shall bring him upstairs and you can give him a cup of tea. If I don't, you will know that he won't do."
"Good-bye, then, for the present," she smiled, "and don't frighten the poor man, if you can help it. I dare say he's only an exaggerated policeman, after all."
But it was a very different sort of person whom Franklin Marmion greeted in the drawing-room. M. Nicol Hendry was a slimly but strongly-built man of about forty. His high, somewhat narrow forehead was framed with close-cut, crinkly, reddish-brown hair. Under well-defined brown eyebrows shone a pair of alert steel-grey eyes of almost startling brilliancy. His nose was a trifle long and slightly aquiline. A carefully-trained golden-brown moustache half-concealed firm, thinly-cut lips, and a closely-trimmed, pointed beard just revealed the strength of the chin beneath. He was dressed in a dark grey frock-coat suit, and wore a pinky-red wild rose, which he had plucked on the Common, in his button-hole. As he shook hands with him the Professor made a mental note of him as an embodiment of strength, keenness, and quiet inflexibility: a summing-up which was pretty near the truth.
"Good afternoon, M. Hendry," he said, as the hands and eyes met.
"Good afternoon, Professor," returned the other in a gentle voice, and almost perfect English. "May I ask to what happy circumstance—at least, I hope it is a happy one—I owe the honour of making the acquaintance of the gentleman who has succeeded in mystifying all the mathematicians of Europe?"
"Well," said Franklin Marmion with a smile, "I don't know whether there is so very much honour about that, but I do know that your time is very valuable and that I have already taken up a good deal of it by bringing you all the way out here, so I will come to the point at once. But wait a moment. Come down into my study. We can talk more comfortably there." When the Professor had given his guest a cigar and lit his pipe, he said quite abruptly: "It is about the Zastrow affair."
If he had said it was about the last Grand Ducal plot in the Peterhof, M. Hendry could not have been inwardly more astonished. Outwardly the Professor might have mentioned the last commonplace murder. Only his eyelids lifted a little as he replied:
"Ah, indeed? Well, really, Professor, you must forgive me for saying that that is about the very last matter I should have expected you to have brought up. All the world knows you as one of its most distinguished men of science, now, of course, more distinguished than ever; but I hardly think any one would have expected you to interest yourself in political mysteries. I have a recollection of hearing or reading somewhere that politics were your pet aversion."
"So they are," replied Franklin Marmion, with a short laugh. "I consider ordinary politics—juggling with phrases to delude the ignorance and flatter the prejudices of the mob, and bartering principles for place and power—to be about the most contemptible vocation a man can descend to, but those are low politics in more senses than one. Now high politics, as a psychological study, to an outsider are a very different matter. But I am digressing. I did not invite you here to discuss trivialities like these. I want to ask you—of course, you will not answer me unless you like—whether you are connected, professionally or otherwise, with the Zastrow affair?"
M. Hendry looked down at the toes of his perfectly-shaped boots for a moment or two. Then he raised his head and said good-humouredly:
"Professor, I know that there is no more honourable man in the world than you, but even from you I must ask frankly your reasons for asking that question?"
"You have a perfect right to do that, my dear sir," was the quiet reply. "If you say 'yes,' I am anxious to help you: if you say 'no,' I should like you to help me: if you don't care to answer, there is an end of the matter. Those are my reasons."
It took a good deal to astonish Nicol Hendry, but he was considerably astonished now. Yet it was impossible to have the remotest doubt of Franklin Marmion's absolute earnestness. But why should he of all men on earth want to unravel the Zastrow mystery? What interest save the merest curiosity could he have in the matter? And yet he was by no means the sort of man to be merely curious. The very strangeness of his proposition half-convinced him that there must be some other very strong reason underlying those which he had given. Again, he was to be perfectly trusted, so no harm could be done trying to discover if this was so, since if he could help he would do so loyally. So he told him.
"Yes, Professor," he said, looking keenly into his eyes, "I am interested in the affaire, professionally interested, and, I may add, very deeply interested, to boot."
"I am glad to hear that," said Franklin Marmion with unexpected earnestness. "Now, the next question is: Will you accept my assistance, whatever it may be, under my own conditions, which are these: No one but yourself shall know that I am helping you, and you yourself will not ask me how I help you."
Once more a puzzle. Nicol Hendry thought for a few seconds before he replied slowly:
"Yes, Professor. As long as you do help us I don't care either why or how, for, as I may now be quite frank with you, we certainly want help of some sort very badly. The papers are quite right for once. Neither here nor on the Continent have we found a single clue worth picking up. It is humiliating, but it is true."
"Then before you go I hope I shall be able to give you some that will be worth picking up, and keeping too," said the scientist with a faint smile; "at any rate, I think I can put you upon certain lines of enquiry which you will find it profitable to trace out."
Nicol Hendry was an ambitious man, and he would have given a good deal to have known what was passing in the other's mind just then, but his expression betrayed nothing more than interested anticipation.
"We shall be entirely grateful to you if you will, Professor," he murmured.
"I have no doubt of that, my dear sir. Now, to begin with: I presume that there are photographs of the persons mentioned in the newspapers as being in the Castle of Trelitz with the Prince on the last day that he was known to be there?"
"Certainly; we should scarcely leave a simple preliminary like that neglected," smiled Nicol Hendry. "With the exception of the Fraülein Hulda von Tyssen, the Princess' Lady of the Bedchamber, all have been photographed for publication, and hers we have got through a private source. The Chief of each of our Departments has a copy of them, and I happen to have mine in my pocket now, if you would like to see them. The Princess, of course, you must have seen. She is in every photographer's window in the West End."
"Oh yes, I have seen her. Who has not? She is a singularly beautiful woman. But I should very much like to see the others, if I may."
The Chef de Bureau looked at him sharply as he took a small square morocco case out of his inner pocket and opened it. Going to a little table he spread out five small unmounted photographs upon it. He put two of them on one side, saying:
"Those, of course, you know; they are the Prince and Princess. This one is Count Ulik von Kessner, High Chamberlain of Boravia; this, Captain Alexis Vollmar; and this is Fraülein von Tyssen."
Franklin Marmion looked at them with much more than ordinary interest, for he recognised all five as clearly as though he had just left them in his own dining-room.
"There are no suspicions attaching to any of these people, I suppose?" he said carelessly.
"My dear Professor," replied Nicol Hendry a little coldly, "those who write stories about our profession always say that it is our invariable rule to suspect everybody, but we have a little common-sense, and we know the records of these ladies and gentlemen in the minutest detail from the Prince himself to Fraülein Hulda. We have not the slightest reason to suspect any of them."
"Ah, just so," said the other musingly; "no, of course you wouldn't have, and, unfortunately, I cannot tell you why you should. But I'll tell you this: if you ever do find cause to suspect any of these persons, you will find that this group is not complete. It ought to contain the photograph of Prince Oscar Oscarovitch."
"Prince Oscar Oscarovitch!" exclaimed Nicol Hendry, staring at him this time with wide-open eyes. "Why on earth should you——"
"Pardon me, my dear sir," interrupted Franklin Marmion gently, "remember that you are not supposed to care anything about the why or the how. I have already explained that I cannot explain."
"A thousand pardons, Professor. I don't often forget myself, but I did then. You took me so utterly by surprise."
"I fancy that you will be a good deal more surprised before you have come to the end of this affair," was the smiling but almost exasperating reply; "but, as I implied, I can only give you clues. I cannot even tell you how I get them, and it is for you to follow them or not as your judgment dictates. Now, here are one or two to go on with. Try and find out whether or not there was a four-funnelled Russian destroyer anywhere in the neighbourhood of Trelitz on the night of the 6th. Trace as closely as you can the movements of Prince Oscarovitch on that and the two preceding days. Try and find out whether or not a large closed chariot something like a barouche, drawn by four black horses, went from anywhere in the direction of the Castle on that day. And lastly, keep a very close eye upon the Egyptian Adept, as he calls himself—his name is Phadrig Amena—who worked those alleged miracles at my daughter's garden-party the other day. The Prince practically invited himself, and brought this fellow with him. If you can find out the true relationship between them I think you will have found out enough to keep you rather busy for the present. If you do think anything of these little points and examine them, let me know how you get on. We are going abroad for a bit of a holiday, but I will send you my address every now and then. Now, let us go back into the drawing-room, and my daughter will give us some tea."
When Nicol Hendry left "The Wilderness" that afternoon he was about the most mystified man in London. After he had gone, Franklin Marmion said to Nitocris:
"Well, Niti, what do you think of our gimlet-eyed friend? Will he do?"
"Yes, Dad; I like his manner, and he seems very clever in his own way. Quite a gentleman, too," she replied.
"I'm glad you think that," he added; "but what a pity it is that we could not get the world to accept fourth dimensional evidence without turning the said world inside out. We could clear up the whole affaire Zastrow in a week then."
"But we shouldn't enjoy our holiday as much, I'm afraid, it would be too exciting," concluded Nitocris.