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Updated: May 31, 2025
Good night, doctor." He shook hands, pulled his hat down upon his head, opened the door and ran into the arms of a man whose hand was at that moment raised to press the electric bell-push by the side of the door. Both started back. "Excuse me," mumbled Mr. White, and hurried down the stairs. Dr. van Heerden glared at the visitor, white with rage.
A big plot is on foot to tamper with the food supplies of the world and the chief plotter is van Heerden. Beale knows more about the matter than any of us, but he only gives us occasional glimpses of the real situation. I have been digging out van Heerden's record without, however, finding anything very incriminating.
"If he came to me to-morrow with proof of his marriage, even if I knew that he had coerced the girl into marriage, I must give him his share van Heerden was pretty thorough when he put my dying friend through his examination." His face hardened. "Heavens, I'd give every penny I had in the world to bring that fiend to the gallows, Beale!"
"Yes, yes, but that will not hinder the ceremony. I'll go myself and prepare her." Milsom had walked round the table to the window, and it was he who checked the doctor as he was leaving the room. "Doctor," he said, "come here." Van Heerden detected a strain of anxiety in the other's voice. "What is it?" he said. "Do you hear somebody speaking?" They stood by the window and listened intently.
It bore the label of a well-known firm of wholesale chemists, and the seal had apparently been broken for the first time when van Heerden opened the tiny bottle. "You have sent for the police?" Beale asked the agitated manager. "Oui, m'sieur directly. They come now, I think." He walked to the vestibule to meet three men in plain clothes who had just come through the swing-doors.
Van Heerden was not a shareholder, but he was intensely interested in the kind of people who subscribe for shares in Dreamland Gold mines. Mr. White had attended incognito his shares were held in the name of his lawyer, who was thinking seriously of building an annex to hold the unprofitable scrip. Mr. White was gratified to discover a kindred soul who believed in this kind of speculation.
"Fine!" said the other laconically. They walked to a bench and the worker looked up and took off his mask. He was an old man, and grinned toothlessly at van Heerden. "Good evening, Signor Doctor," he said in Italian. "Science is long and life is short, signor." He chuckled and, resuming his mask, returned to his work, ignoring the two men as though they had no existence.
"I do not think that it is in the interests of justice that they should find him," he said gravely. "I place the utmost reliance on him. I am sending Mr. Jackson to a farm in Ontario kept by a medical friend of mine who has made a hobby of dealing with dipsomaniacs." He met her eyes unfalteringly. "Dr. van Heerden," she said slowly, "you are sending Mr. Jackson to Red Horse Valley."
Van Heerden had switched on the light in the girl's room and then noticed for the first time that one of her shoes was missing. Quickly he slipped off the remaining shoe. "You wait here," he told the men, "until you hear Beale return. Then make your escape. On your way down leave the shoe on the stairs. It will help to put our friend off the trail."
Ought she to tell the doctor Dr. van Heerden, who had been so good a friend of hers? It seemed disloyal, it was disloyal, horribly disloyal to him, to hide the fact that Mr. Beale had actually been in the doctor's room at night. But was it a coincidence that the same key opened her door and the doctor's? If it were so, it was an embarrassing coincidence. She must change the locks without delay.
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