The Case of the Vanishing Corpse Page 6

  “What did she lose—money, jewels?”

  “Fred thinks jewels.”

  “Oh. You know, in a curious way, that makes me feel better. I mean, if a gang’s operating out here—if they robbed her as well as me—I don’t feel quite as guilty about the Denham diamonds. Don’t you think there may be some connection between the two robberies?”

  “Yes, we do,” said Andrew.

  Verna looked at him, at Sara, then at him again.

  “All right,” she said. “What is it? You didn’t come up here just to tell me about the robbery.”

  “Yes, we did. We thought … Well, don’t you think it would be neighborly for you to go over there and tell the marchioness how sorry you are?”

  “What? But I hardly know her. I just met her once, when we were over there at her open house.”

  “But you are her neighbor, and you were just robbed too,” said Sara. “Don’t you think she’d like to hear how it happened and tell you how it happened to Mrs. Van Gelder?”

  Verna looked at them again.

  “I see,” she said. “Meaning you’d like to hear how it happened.”

  “Well, if you did go,” said Andrew, “we’d like to come along. Nobody paid any attention to us the last time we went over there, and I don’t think they would this time, either.”

  “You really do have it quite bad, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “The itch to play detective. I’m not sure I approve. It was one thing when you were working with Mr. Holmes. It’s another to try to do it on your own.”

  “But we wouldn’t do it on our own.”

  “No? Who did you plan to work with—Finch?”

  “No. We’re as convinced he’s a fool as you are. But Constable Wyatt isn’t.”

  “Constable Wyatt?”

  “He’s General Wyatt’s son,” said Sara. “And he knows Mr. Holmes too, and he became a policeman because he doesn’t want to be a soldier like his father and brothers. And what he’d really like is to become a detective, but Finch won’t recommend him for it because he’s jealous of him.”

  “How do you know so much about him?”

  “We’ve been talking to him,” said Andrew. “He’s very nice and very intelligent, and he thinks he has some idea of how the diamonds were stolen.”

  “I see. Apparently quite a bit’s been going on that I didn’t know about. Do you think Finch will be looking into the robbery at the marchioness’s?”

  “Yes, we do. And we hope Constable Wyatt will be in on it, too.”

  “I’m beginning to understand why you’re so anxious to have me go over there. And I suppose, if we do go, it had better be soon.”

  “The sooner the better.”

  “All right,” said Verna, throwing back the covers. “Tell Fred to bring the carriage round. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

  “Mother,” said Andrew, “you’re ream!”

  “I’m glad you think so,” she said, disappearing into her dressing room.

  Only an actress, accustomed to quick changes, could have gotten ready in that time and done it with no signs of haste.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” said Fred, opening the door of the landau. Then to Andrew, “The Yard bird’s next door.”

  “Finch?”

  “Isn’t that the one you asked me to watch out for?”

  “Yes. Thanks, Fred.” He turned to Verna. “I thought we’d get there before he did. Are you going to mind, Mother?”

  “Not really. If he’s there, a different kind of performance will be called for, but that’s all.”

  Like all her performances, this one was extremely effective. Arriving at Three Oaks, she swept regally past the footman and the policeman at the door and, with Sara and Andrew following closely behind her, marched into the salon. The marchioness, wearing a dressing gown and looking haggard, was there. Mrs. Van Gelder, also in a dressing gown, was with her and so were Finch and Constable Wyatt.

  “I just heard the news,” said Verna, ignoring everyone but the marchioness, “and I had to come over and tell you how sorry I was.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “It’s not kind at all. After all, I’ve just been through the same thing and—” She hesitated as if she had first become aware of the others. “Oh. I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”

  “Not at all. This is Inspector Finch of Scotland Yard. He just arrived and—”

  “I know the inspector. He’s been investigating my robbery, and you couldn’t have anyone better looking into the one that took place here.”

  “Nice of you to say so,” muttered Finch awkwardly. “Still haven’t really gotten anywhere there …”

  “But I’m sure that now you will,” said Verna. Then to Mrs. Van Gelder. “It was your jewels that were taken?”

  “Yes. They may not have been as costly and famous as the Denham diamonds, but they meant a great deal to me. There was a string of Cartier pearls that Mr. Van Gelder gave me for our tenth anniversary, an emerald and diamond brooch and matching emerald ring—”

  “You’ve already given us a list of the articles that were stolen,” said Finch. “Now I’d like you to tell me just when and how the robbery took place.”

  “It took place last night, sometime between two and six in the morning.”

  “You’re sure about the time?”

  “Yes. The marchioness and I went out to a concert at the Queen’s Hall and then to a reception at Lord Burdett’s. We got home after one. I was wearing the jewels, as the marchioness and half of London can testify, and only took them off when I retired, which was about two o’clock. They were gone when I woke this morning.”

  “They were taken from your room?”

  “Yes. From the dressing table.”

  “Was the door of your room open or locked?”

  “Locked.”

  “Indeed it was,” said the marchioness. “We got into the habit of locking our doors when we were in the east, and even though I haven’t thought it was necessary, Mrs. Van Gelder has continued to do so here. As a matter of fact, when I wanted to get into her room this morning, I couldn’t for some time because the lock had jammed and she couldn’t turn the key.”

  “How extraordinary!” said Verna. “The Denham diamonds were taken from my room too, but the door was open. Does that mean that in this case someone came in from the outside and took them?”

  “I won’t know that until I’ve examined the scene of the crime,” said Finch. “May I?” he asked Mrs. Van Gelder.

  “Of course. This way,” and she led the inspector and Wyatt off. Verna glanced after them, apparently deciding that even she couldn’t go with them without an invitation, and continued to talk to the marchioness, commiserating with her and asking her if she were prepared for an assault by the press.

  “Do you think they’ll come round here?”

  “I think it’s very likely. There were about a dozen reporters over at my house yesterday afternoon.”

  “I’ll leave word that they’re not to be allowed in,” said the marchioness. She went to the door of the salon and tugged at a bell pull. When her butler appeared, the policeman who had been outside was with him. They talked for a moment, then the policeman went off with the butler, and the marchioness returned to Verna.

  “I gave instructions about the press,” she said. “But there’s something else. That policeman said he had an urgent message for Inspector Finch. I wonder what it was.”

  “Perhaps he’ll tell us when he comes down,” said Verna.

  “Perhaps,” said the marchioness, and she began to tell Verna how awful she felt about the robbery. “Almost as if,” she said, “it were my fault.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” said Verna. “Why is it your fault?”

  “Because it happened while Mrs. Van Gelder was staying here in my house.”

  “But it could have happened no matter where she was staying. Didn’t you say you had gotten into the habit of locking your doors whe
n you were in the east?”

  “Yes. We were told to do so for fear of theft when we were in Egypt. But—” She broke off as Finch came into the room, followed by Wyatt and Mrs. Van Gelder.

  “I hope you’ll forgive me, ma’am,” said Finch, a strained and worried look on his face, “but I just received an urgent message from the Yard, and I’m afraid I have to leave.”

  “Leave?” said the marchioness. “But what about Mrs. Van Gelder’s jewels?”

  “I’ve looked over her room, made some notes, and I’m leaving Constable Wyatt here to make further notes, which I’ll go over this afternoon. Obviously I’ve only begun work on the case—as I have on the theft of the Denham diamonds—but I hope to have something to report to you within a day or so.”

  “I sincerely hope so,” said the marchioness.

  “So do I,” said Verna. She watched Finch leave, then said, “I think I’ll go, too. But I believe you’ll find Constable Wyatt every bit as competent as Inspector Finch.”

  “I’m delighted to hear that,” said the marchioness. She turned to Wyatt. “Is there anything more you want to ask us?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said, bowing politely. “I’d like to look over the grounds now if I may.”

  “By all means. Go anywhere you like and look at anything you like.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, bowing again. He waited while Verna said good-bye, then fell in behind Sara and Andrew as they all went out.

  “I hope you’ll forgive me for comparing you to Finch,” said Verna.

  “Knowing how you feel about him, I did not take it as a compliment,” said Wyatt. “Apart from that, however, may I consider it an expression of confidence?”

  “You may.”

  “In that case, since we haven’t talked before, I know who’s responsible. Thank you,” he said to Sara and Andrew.

  “You’re welcome,” said Sara.

  “They, of course, are the reason I came over here,” said Verna.

  “I gathered that. And I can’t tell you how much I admired the way you handled it.”

  “Well, they were very anxious to find out what was going on. But what happens now is up to you. If you think they’ll be in your way, I’ll take them home.”

  “They won’t be in my way. They were very helpful yesterday.”

  “Oh? Well, I’m not surprised. I’ll run along then. Good-bye, darlings.”

  They said good-bye and watched her drive off in the landau.

  “Your mother,” said Wyatt, “is quite an extraordinary person. I thought so yesterday, and I’m more convinced of it than ever now.”

  “Yes, she is,” said Andrew. “You didn’t mind our coming over then?”

  “No.”

  “Good,” said Sara. “Then tell us what that urgent message was, why Finch had to leave.”

  “I don’t see what they have to do with one another,” said Wyatt with a smile. “But I’ll tell you anyway. There’s been another jewel robbery.”

  “You mean besides ours and this one?”

  “Yes. This wasn’t in St. John’s Wood. It was in Mayfair—South Audley Street. But the person who was robbed, Lady Damien, is a friend of the commissioner.”

  “That’s why Finch left in such a hurry,” said Andrew. “And also why he looked so upset.”

  “Three robberies in three days,” said Wyatt, nodding. “The first two, at least, important ones, and so far no real clues.”

  “None here either?” asked Sara.

  “Not that I’ve come across so far. Apparently the door was locked.”

  “What about the windows?” asked Andrew.

  “They were open, but they didn’t seem any more accessible than the ones in your mother’s dressing room. At least, from the inside. I was just going to look at them from the outside.”

  “Can we go with you?” asked Sara.

  “Of course. This way.”

  They went down off the porte-cochere and around the side of the house.

  “Those are her windows,” said Wyatt, pointing.

  They were, as he had said, even more inaccessible than the windows of Verna’s dressing room; at least thirty-five feet from the ground, with nothing that could be climbed on either side, above or below them. Wyatt shook his head.

  “Better stay where you are till I’ve had a look,” he said, going closer to the face of the house. They watched as he examined the flower bed below the windows, then moved further away, studying the grass of the lawn.

  “Anything?” asked Andrew.

  “No. At least not that I could see.” He straightened up, looked at the terraces and the formal gardens, then down past them at the grove of trees and the whitewashed cottage. “What’s down there?” he asked.

  “There’s kind of a cave where those trees are,” said Sara. “And a man with a strange name lives in the cottage.”

  “What name?”

  “Sara thinks it’s Ibrahim,” said Andrew. “He might be Egyptian—he looks it and speaks with an accent. We talked to him the other day when we were here for the open house. We stopped to look at the grotto and he told us we couldn’t go in—that it was private.”

  “I’d like to talk to him.”

  They went down through the gardens and across the lawn toward the grove of trees. As they approached it, the strange man in the white robe came out and bowed to them.

  “Salaam,” he said.

  “Good morning,” said Wyatt. “Do you speak English?”

  “A few words.”

  “I’m a policeman. My name is Wyatt. May I ask your name?”

  “Ibrahim. Brother Ibrahim.”

  “You’re Egyptian?”

  “Egypt?” He smiled and shrugged. “I many things, but … Yes, came from Egypt here. With the marquise.”

  “Do you know what happened last night?”

  “Happened?”

  “Some jewelry belonging to Mrs. Van Gelder, the friend of the marchioness—or the marquise as you call her—was stolen.”

  “Oh? Not know that. Know something bad happen, but not that.”

  “What do you mean, you knew something bad had happened?”

  “I know. Came to me in sleep, evil god, Seth. He make snake noise.” And he hissed.

  “Then you didn’t hear or see anything? A stranger, for instance, who might have come up through the grounds?”

  “No. At night I far away—not hear, not see nothing.”

  Wyatt studied him, then looked past him at the entrance to the grotto, which could be dimly seen through the trees.

  “Do you mind if we look in there?” he asked.

  Brother Ibrahim hesitated, then shrugged.

  “Is sacred place now, Temple of Ageless Wisdom, but we must all obey law—your law, my law.” He bowed, touching his forehead, then gestured. “Please.”

  He led the way through the trees and Wyatt, Sara and Andrew followed. When they reached the grotto Andrew saw that, as he had suspected, it was completely artificial. The entrance was built of carefully selected rocks that had been cemented together and shaped so that they looked weathered and ancient. Ferns grew in recesses in the stones, most of which were covered with moss. A short distance back was a heavy wooden door with black iron hinges. Brother Ibrahim opened the door, then stepped back and let them go in. Three steps down was a long, low room that had a dark stone floor and white plastered walls. At the far end of the room was a raised platform with a square altar at its center. Two candles burned on the altar and between them, high on the rear wall, was painted a huge eye. There were wooden benches on both sides of a central aisle, and the air was heavy with the smell of incense. Bare though the room was, there was something frightening about it. Andrew wasn’t sure why at first. Then he decided that it was because of the unwinking eye that watched them by the uncertain light of the candles and seemed to see everything.

  “The Eye of Horus,” said Wyatt, looking at the rear wall.

  “Yes. Horus my master,” said Ibrahim. “His
sign is on me.”

  He opened the top of his robe and there, tattooed on his chest, was the same single, open eye and under it a bird with a savage curved beak and outstretched wings. “His eye and Horus himself as falcon.”

  “You celebrate mysteries here?” asked Wyatt.

  Ibrahim looked at him sharply. “You are learned,” he said. “Yes. We celebrate mysteries.”

  Wyatt nodded, and with Sara and Andrew close behind him, he walked down the central aisle to the altar. There was a door to the left of the platform. Wyatt opened it and they looked in. The room beyond was small, and the smell of incense was even stronger here, probably coming from the wooden chests and earthenware jars on the floor. Above the jars, on wooden pegs set in the wall, were some robes and a strange, looped object with a handle. The looped part was strung with wire on which there were metal discs.

  “What’s that?” asked Sara.

  “A sistrum,” said Wyatt. “You shake it like a rattle.”

  He opened the chests, looked into the jars, then rejoined Sara and Andrew on the platform. Brother Ibrahim had not moved; he waited patiently just inside the door. Wyatt looked around again, then went back down the aisle.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Brother Ibrahim bowed, let them precede him out the door, then closed it after them. Wyatt looked at the cottage just outside the grove.

  “Is that where you live?” he asked.

  “For now, yes. You wish there to look too?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Please,” he said again, and again he led the way, this time to the cottage. As before, he opened the door and let them precede him inside. The front room was simply and sparsely furnished with some chairs, a table and a chest. The kitchen, in the rear, was just as simple and ordinary; there were only two pots hanging above the stove and not much food on the shelves.

  “You look for something special?” asked Ibrahim with a slight smile. “The jewels, perhaps?”

  “Not necessarily,” said Wyatt.

  “There is other room. Here,” he said and he opened a door opposite the fireplace. Wyatt looked in and his eyebrows went up slightly. Glancing past him, Andrew could see why. The room, which should have been the bedroom, was empty except for an open black coffin set on low trestles.

  “Coo!” said Sara. “What’s that for?”