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"There goes your evidence, Beale," he said. "What is it?" asked Beale quickly. "The factory was burned to the ground in the early hours of the morning," he said. "The fire started in the old wine vault and the whole building has collapsed." The detective stared out of the window. "Can we arrest van Heerden on the evidence of Professor Heyler?" For answer McNorton handed him the letter.
"We will get a Kingston Directory and go through it," said McNorton; "we have one on the file at Scotland Yard. If " Beale suddenly raised his hand to enjoin silence: he had heard a familiar step in the corridor outside. "That's van Heerden," he said in a low voice, "he has been out all the morning." "Has he been shadowed?" asked McNorton in the same tone. "My man lost him," he said.
"I sent for you, but decided I couldn't wait so I came myself. Ah, McNorton, what are the chances of catching van Heerden?" "No man has ever escaped from this country once his identity was established," said the police chief hopefully. "If we had taken Beale's advice we should have the gentleman under lock and key," said the Foreign Minister, shaking his head. "You probably know that Mr.
Is it possible" he stood squarely in front of McNorton, his hands on his hips, his eyeglass dangling from his fastidious fingers and his head pulled back as though he wished to avoid contact with the possibility, "is it possible that in my ignorance I have been assisting to finance a scheme which is ah illegal, immoral, improper and contrary ah to the best interests of the common weal?"
But Beale was half-way to Kitson's sitting-room, arriving there in time to meet McNorton who had handed over his charge to his subordinate. "I've found it!" cried Beale. "Found what?" asked Kitson. "The code!" "Where? How?" asked McNorton. "Unless I am altogether wrong the code is contained, either engraved on the case or written on a slip of paper enclosed within the case of a watch.
You don't believe that?" "I believe it." It was Oliva who spoke, and it appeared that this was the first time that Milsom had noticed her presence, for his eyes opened wider. "You oh, you believe it, do you?" and he nodded. "But why is van Heerden waiting?" asked McNorton. "What is he waiting for?"
"That's all," said the P.V. man. "I seem to remember that Beale had made one or two mysterious references to the Rust. Where is he now?" "He left town last night," replied McNorton. "Can you get in touch with him?" The other shook his head. "I suppose you are sending on a copy of this communication to the Cabinet," he said "it may be rather serious.
It was an excellent suggestion, for although the sergeant on duty was wholly unresponsive there was a telephone, and at the end of the telephone in his little Haymarket flat, a Superintendent McNorton, the mention of whose very name galvanized the police office to activity. "I have found the factory I've been looking for, McNorton," said Beale. "I'll explain the whole thing to you in the morning.
"Beale will have to tell us all he knows," McNorton went on, "and probably we can tell him something he doesn't know; namely, that van Heerden conducts a pretty expensive correspondence by cable with all parts of the world. Something has happened in Cracow which gives a value to all Beale's suspicions." Briefly he related the gist of the story which had reached him that morning.
He went to his room and lay down on his bed fully dressed. He was aroused from a troubled sleep by the jangle of the 'phone. It was McNorton. "Come down to Scotland House and see the Assistant-Commissioner," he said, "he is very anxious to hear more about this factory. He tells me that you have already given him an outline of the plot."
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