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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.
Desmond smiled at the note of assurance in his voice. "I suppose you've got something to go on?" he asked. "There's Nur-el-Din, for instance. What about her?" "That young person," replied the Chief, "is to be your particular study. If she is not the center of the whole conspiracy, she is, at any rate, in the thick of it. It will be part of your job to ascertain the exact role she is playing."
Mais reponds, donc, canaille!" The dancer stamped furiously with her foot and advanced menacingly on Barbara. An undersized; yellow-faced man came quickly out of the small door leading from the bar and stood an instant, a helpless witness of the scene, as men are when women quarrel. Nur-el-Din rapped out an order to him in a tongue which was unknown to Barbara. It sounded something like Russian.
And Desmond was haunted by the awful conviction that he had at length reached the end of his tether and that nothing could now redeem the ignominious failure he had made of his mission. He had sacrificed Barbara Mackwayte; he had sacrificed Nur-el-Din; he had not even been clever enough to save his own skin.
The Colonel held up a plump hand. "Unfortunately for Madame Nur-el-Din, this Marcelle Blondinet spent the whole of her childhood, in fact, the whole of her life until she was nineteen years of age, on her mother's farm at a time when this Marcelle Blondinet was touring Europe with The Seven Duponts. The evidence is absolute. Mademoiselle here heard the dancer herself confirm it last night!"
But I look around and I find no one. You serve the German Empire, do you not?" Desmond bowed. "But not the House of Hohenzollern?" the girl cried, her voice trembling with passion. "I am not of the Emperor's personal service, if that is what you mean, madame," Desmond returned coldly. "Then, since you are not altogether an iron Prussian," Nur-el-Din resumed eagerly, "you can differentiate.
Butterworth with Nur-el-Din, the three men followed the soldier and hurriedly quitted the room. On opening the door at the farther end of the tap-room they saw before them a trap-door standing wide with a shallow flight of wooden steps leading to the darkness below. Bates pointed with his foot to a square of linoleum which lay on one side.
I want to be amused, mark you, not elevated!" "Nur-el-Din at the Palaceum," replied the reporter. "By Jove, we'll go there," said Desmond, turning to Maurice. "Have you ever seen her? I'm told she's perfectly marvelous..." "It's an extraordinarily artistic turn," said Spencer, "and they're doing wonderful business at the Palaceum.
He had seen, too, the maid, Marie, in earnest conversation with Strangwise by the back gate on the fen. Had both Marie and Rass been in league with Strangwise against the dancer? And had Nur-el-Din discovered their treachery? His mind refused to follow these deductions to their logical sequence; for, black as things looked against Nur-el-Din, he could not bring himself to believe her a murderess.
The first thing that Desmond saw was the little toque with the brown stain on its flowered band lying on the table. Francis picked it up, turned it over and laid it down again. "Where did you find it?" he asked Matthews. The latter informed him of the circumstances of the discovery. Then Francis, sending the searcher in to Nur-el-Din in the bar, pointed to the body on the floor.
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