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Updated: June 13, 2025
He did not attempt to speculate on the different course events would have taken had he but known that the mysterious jewel which had cost old Mackwayte his life, had been in his, Desmond's, possession from the very day on which he had assumed the guise and habiliments of Mr. Bellward.
The muffed cry you heard at the inn suggests foul play to me and that suspicion is deepened in my mind by the fact that Matthews found Nur-el-Din at the Dyke Inn, as he reported to me by telephone just now; but he says nothing about Miss Mackwayte. Des, I fear the worst for that poor girl if she has fallen into the hands of that gang!" Desmond remained silent for a moment.
"Supposing Barney hadn't got himself nabbed, supposing I hadn't been able to find out from Miss Mackwayte her movements on the night previous to the murder, that strand of hair might have led me on a fine wild goose chase!" "But, damn it, Marigold," exclaimed the Chief, laughing, "you haven't told us whose hair it is?" "Why, Nur-el-Din's, of course!"
"Certainly, sir," said Mr. Marigold. Desmond stood by the door, vastly amused by this duel of wits. The Chief and Mr. Marigold made a move towards the door, Desmond turned to open it and came face to face with a large framed photograph of the Chief hanging on the wall of Miss Mackwayte's bedroom. "Why, Chief," he cried, "you never told me you knew Miss Mackwayte!"
Why should Matthews think that Miss Mackwayte was down here? Did she come down with you?" Francis looked at him quickly. "That crack on the head makes you forget things," he said. "Don't you remember Miss Mackwayte coming down here to see you yesterday afternoon Matthews thought she had stayed on..." Desmond shook his head. "She's not been here," he replied. "I'm quite positive about that!"
Now that he was away from Nur-el-Din with her pleading eyes and pretty gestures, Desmond's thoughts turned again to Barbara Mackwayte. As he walked along Piccadilly, he found himself contrasting the two women as he had contrasted them that night he had met them in Nur-el-Din's dressing room at the Palaceum.
When I first heard the news of the murder over the telephone this morning, I had a kind of intuition that we should discover in it a thread leading back to this mesh of espionage. Is it merely a coincidence that a hair, resembling Nur-el-Din's, is found adhering to the straps with which Barbara Mackwayte was bound? I can't think so... and yet..."
In that instant as he heard the stealthy footstep cross the floor of the summer-house, Desmond resolved he would not leave the garden until he had ascertained whether Barbara Mackwayte was there. Desmond decided that he would stay where he was until he no longer heard that footstep on the planks within; for then the person inside the summer-house would have reached the grass at the door.
Nur-el-Din started. "Le Captaine is there, Madame," said the French maid, "'e say Monsieur Mackwayte ask for Mademoiselle!" The dancer thrust a little hand from the folds of her silken kimono. "Au revoir, ma petite," she said, "we shall meet again. You will come and see me, nest-ce pas?
Hers was the beauty of the East, sensuous, arresting, conjuring up pictures of warm, perfumed nights, the thrumming of guitars, a great yellow moon hanging low behind the palms. "Barbara!" called Nur-el-Din from the dressing table. Mr. Mackwayte had joined her there and was chatting to Strangwise. "You will stay and talk to me while I change n'est-ce pas?
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