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Updated: June 13, 2025
"He hadn't got it on him," he answered, "he swears he never had a gun. I expect he chucked it away somewhere. It'll be our business to find it for him!" He smiled rather grimly, then added: "Perhaps you'd care to have a look at Miss Mackwayte's room, sir!" "Is Miss Mackwayte there" asked the Chief. "I got her out of this quick," replied Mr.
"Only a trifle, my dear, just a few shillings.... to take him over the week-end.... he's getting something.... he'll repay me, I feel sure...." "It's too bad of you, daddy," his daughter said severely. "I gave you that ten shillings to buy yourself a bottle of whiskey. You know he won't pay you back. That Barney's a bad egg!" "Things are going bad with the profession," replied Mr. Mackwayte.
"But he was also an inconvenient witness of her dealings with Strangwise," retorted Francis. "If either Nur-el-Din or Strangwise have regained possession of the Star of Poland, Des, I fear the worst for Barbara Mackwayte. Come in!" The corporal stood, saluting, at the door. "Mr. Matthews on the telephone, sir!"
"I don't like the look of it at all, Des," said his brother shaking his head, "but first we must make sure that there has been no misunderstanding about Miss Mackwayte. You say your housekeeper was already here when you came back from the Dyke Inn. She may have seen her. Let's have old Martha in!"
"Barbara!" he cried and never noticed that he called her by her Christian name. Barbara Mackwayte sat in the big black armchair, facing the black-curtained window. Her face was pale and drawn, and there were black circles under her eyes. There was a listless yet highly-strung look about her that you see in people who habitually take drugs. She heeded not the sound of his voice.
"The only pleasant memory I shall preserve of the Palaceum," she said in French, "is my meeting with an old comrade of my youth. Imagine, I had not seen him for nearly twenty years. Monsieur Mackwayte, his name is, we used to call him Monsieur Arthur in the old days when I was the child acrobat of the Dupont Troupe. Such a charming fellow; and not a bit changed!
The landing proved to be a small space, covered with oilcloth and raised by a step from the bend made by the staircase leading to the first story. On the left-hand side was a window looking on a narrow passage separating the Mackwayte house from its neighbors and leading to the back-door. By the window stood a small wicker-work table with a plant on it.
He remembered the entrance of the maid and the dancer's hurried exit. Might not Marie have come to tell her that Barbara Mackwayte was below asking for her? It was very shortly after this interruption that, crouching on the roof of the shed, he had heard that muffled cry from the house and seen Rass enter the bar and speak with Strangwise.
"Either Strangwise or Nur-el-Din, perhaps both of them," said Desmond, "must know what has become of Miss Mackwayte." And he explained his reasoning to Francis. His brother nodded quickly. "Then Nur-el-Din shall tell us," he answered sternly. "They've arrested her?" asked Desmond with a sudden pang. "Yes," said Francis curtly. But too late to prevent a crime being committed.
To cover those forty yards across the open in one bound was, he decided, too much to risk; for he must at all costs gain access to the house and discover, if possible, whether Barbara Mackwayte were confined within, before he was caught. Then his eye fell on the plaster nymph in the middle of the grass.
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