The Legion of the Lost, стр. 2

‘Experiment,’ said Stefan simply.

Palfrey took the study key from his key-case and pushed it into the lock. It stopped before it was right in. Gently he pushed and the other key began to yield. He nodded and Stefan stepped to the window.

There was a soft sound from inside, different from the constant rustling of paper. When nothing else happened, Palfrey turned and nodded to Stefan.

They acted almost simultaneously.

Stefan pushed up the window, which squeaked noisily; Palfrey turned his own key in the lock and thrust the door open.

He felt a little foolish as he stared into what seemed to be an empty room. There was nothing the matter there; none of the furniture was disturbed; all of the drawers in his desk were closed. The window, however, was wide open; by it, two newspapers were fluttering in the breeze.

A moment later Stefan swung into sight, one hand gripping the top of the window, one foot resting on the sill. Palfrey paused, but not to admire the speed and precision with which the Russian negotiated the difficult task of getting from one window to another. He turned and went into the lounge-hall, then tried the doors of the other rooms. None of them was locked, all of the rooms were deserted. The small kitchen led to a little pantry on one side and the back door on the other. That was locked. Palfrey used a key and opened it. He saw Drusilla standing somewhat conspicuously in the small area at the back of the house, by the foot of an iron staircase.

‘All clear,’ he called. ‘At least, the flat is.’ He returned to the lounge-hall to find Stefan standing on the threshold of the study, his face a picture of bewilderment; the fact that Stefan showed such emotion was unusual enough to make Palfrey smile, if a little onesidedly.

‘The vanishing man with red hair,’ he mused.

‘He was here, Sap, my eyes and your evidence proves that. It is even a little disturbing,’ he admitted, ‘although we have the satisfaction of knowing that he was not here for long—I saw him entering as I reached the stairs and I know that it was just seven minutes before you arrived. And I imagined that I was being clever by waiting in silence,’ added Stefan ruefully. ‘Instead, I waited until he went away.’

Drusilla said pertinently: ‘Yes, but why did he come?’

Stefan said, tentatively: ‘Will you laugh, Sap, if I suggest that he might have left some unpleasant memento behind him?’

‘No-o,’ said Palfrey thoughtfully.

There followed a period of ten minutes during which they moved everything that was movable but found nothing in any way suspicious. The longer he searched, the less Palfrey thought it likely that the vanished stranger had secreted anything in the flat.

Then, without warning, Drusilla cried from the kitchen: ‘Sap! Sap I’

‘My oath!’ exclaimed Palfrey. ‘She’s found something!’ He was in the main bedroom, with Stefan looking through the drawers of the dressing-table. Stefan moved swiftly, but Palfrey positively bounded out of the room, pulling up short when he saw Drusilla empty-handed but bright-eyed, standing on the threshold of the kitchen. She had taken off her hat and had a towel wrapped about her waist.

‘Where is it?’ demanded Palfrey urgently. ‘What have you done with it?’

‘It?’ asked Drusilla, startled. ‘I haven’t found anything. Sap, I remember—’

Palfrey drew a deep breath and backed away, to knock against Stefan. He mumbled: ‘False alarm, it seems. I’m getting too hotheaded. What’s the brainwave, ’Silla?’

‘It’s very simple,’ said Drusilla; then the towel became unknotted and slipped to the floor. She stopped to pick it up, but Stefan forestalled her and began to tie it about her waist, again with a sober air, while Drusilla continued and looked into Palfrey’s disconcertingly direct eyes: ‘I remember where we’ve seen the little red-headed man before. He was on the bus at Penzance the day before yesterday. He sat in front of us, if you remember. He had a little woman with him, one of those large-eyed pretty little things with absurdly high heels, tiny black shoes, and no stockings. I paid more attention to her than to the man, but I remember he limped when he got out of the bus and walked away. Short, oldish, red-haired but quite definitely greying at the sides—and rather stocky.’

‘A wonderful thing, coincidence!’ declared Stefan. ‘But I am not very fond of it myself. The man was striking enough to be remembered; it is almost certainly the same one. Sap, I may remain melodramatic’ – obviously he enjoyed using the word – ‘but I think we should finish our search. The gentleman had obviously much interest in you.’

They went back to their respective tasks, but after another half an hour met together in the lounge-hall, with nothing to report.

‘He came to get something, not leave it,’ said Palfrey. ‘It’s damned odd.’ He twisted a few strands of hair and pulled it upwards, standing in characteristic pose. ‘We didn’t want anything like it just now, there might be a rumour that we’re going abroad. And it might be known that we’ve seen Brett. I’d better telephone him.’

At the back of his mind he had a sneaking hope that Brett would be able to offer some explanation about the red-haired man, but the Marquis was obviously surprised. He could shed no light on a matter which began to obsess Palfrey. Nor were Drusilla or Stefan in any better frame of mind. It was nearly two hours before Palfrey looked at the black-covered book which he had brought from the Marquis.

The first flush of eagerness had gone; he felt anxious and disturbed.

‘Is that the list of our captive friends?’ asked Stefan soberly. ‘I have been told about it, Sap.’

‘Ye-es,’ said Palfrey. ‘Well, we’d better get at it, we don’t want to lose much time. But I wish—’ he broke off. ‘Oh, let’s forget the fellow!’

Some measure of eagerness returned, as,