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"But do you believe then, that Nur-el-Din murdered-old Mackwayte? My dear Chief, the idea is preposterous..." The Chief rose from his chair with a sigh. "Nothing is preposterous in our work, Okewood," he replied. "But it's 3.25, and my French colleague hates to be kept waiting." "I thought you were seeing Strangwise, at two?" asked Desmond.
"That you certainly don't!" answered the Chief promptly, "if I thought you did Duff and No.39 should be sacked on the spot!" "Then it wasn't Miss Mackwayte who told you?" "I haven't seen or heard from Miss Mackwayte since she left my office yesterday evening. You were followed!" "But why?" "I'll tell you all about it at, lunch!" Bated once more, Desmond retired into his shell.
One was the Chief, the other a face that Barbara knew well from the illustrated papers. At the sound of the door opening, the Chief sprang to his feet. "Oh, it's Miss Mackwayte," he said, and added something in a low voice to the other man who had risen to his feet. "My dear," he continued aloud to Barbara, "I will see you immediately; we must not be disturbed now. Matthews should have told you."
Mackwayte, "but it'll be a bit awkward with a strange dresser... I can't get hold of Potter at this time, of night... and a stranger is sure to mix up my wigs and things..." "Why, daddy, I'm going with you to put out your things..." "But a lady clerk in the War Office, Barbara... a Government official, as you might say... go behind at a music-hall... it don't seem proper right, my dear!"
Ah, Major Okewood!" Nur-el-Din sank into a bergere chair beside her great mirror. "There are too many in this room," she cried, "there is no air! Lazarro, Ramiro, all of you, go outside, my friends!" As Madame's entourage surged out, Strangwise said: "I hear you are leaving the Palaceum, Marcelle!" He spoke so low that Mr. Mackwayte and Barbara, who were talking to Desmond, did not hear.
His mind swiftly reverted to the last woman he had seen cry, to Barbara Mackwayte discovering the loss of the package entrusted to her charge by the woman who sat before him. "What murder?" he asked, striving to banish any trace of interest from his voice. He loathed the part he had to play. The dancer's distress struck him as genuine.
Oh, daddy, I believe it is an engagement!" Mr. Mackwayte rose to his feet in agitation, a touch of color creeping into his gray cheeks. "Nonsense, my dear!" he answered, "at this time of night! Why, it's past eight... their first house is just finishing... they don't go engaging people at this time of day... they've got other things to think of!"
The only direction in which he could start his inquiries after Barbara Mackwayte pointed towards Campden Hill and Mrs. Malplaquet. The delightful weather suggested to his mind the idea of walking out to Campden Hill to pursue his investigations on the spot. So he made his way across the Park into Kensington Gardens heading for the pleasant glades of Notting Hill.
"You let me go free of course, I take it that my liberty includes the release of Miss Mackwayte as well and in addition, you hand over to me your two accomplices, Bellward and the Malplaquet woman. That is your offer, isn't it? Well, what do you want from me in exchange?" "The Star of Poland!" said Strangwise in a low voice. "But," Desmond began.
If Mortimer and Strangwise were both staying at the Dyke Inn, then they were probably acquainted. Strangwise knew Nur-el-Din, too, knew her well; for Desmond remembered how familiarly they had conversed together that night in the dancer's dressing-room at the Palaceum. Strangwise knew Barbara Mackwayte also.
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