The Illustrious Prince

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER X. MR. COULSON OUTMATCHED

  Mr. James B. Coulson settled down to live what was, to all appearance,a very inoffensive and ordinary life. He rose a little earlier than wascustomary for an Englishman of business of his own standing, but he madeup for this by a somewhat prolonged visit to the barber, a breakfastwhich bespoke an unimpaired digestion, and a cigar of more than ordinarylength over his newspaper. At about eleven o'clock he went down to thecity, and returned sometimes to luncheon, sometimes at varying hours,never later, however, than four or five o'clock. From that time untilseven, he was generally to be found in the American bar, meeting oldfriends or making new ones.

  On the sixth day of his stay at the Savoy Hotel the waiter who lookedafter the bar smoking room accosted him as he entered at his usual time,a little after half past four.

  "There's a gentleman here, Mr. Coulson, been asking after you," heannounced. "I told him that you generally came in about this time.You'll find him sitting over there."

  Mr. Coulson glanced in the direction indicated. It was Mr. Jacks whoawaited him in the cushioned easy chair. For a single moment, perhaps,his lips tightened and the light of battle flashed in his face. Thenhe crossed the room apparently himself again,--an undistinguished,perfectly natural figure.

  "It's Mr. Jacks, isn't it?" he asked, holding out his hand. "I thought Irecognized you."

  The Inspector rose to his feet.

  "I am sorry to trouble you again, Mr. Coulson," he said, "but if youcould spare me just a minute or two, I should be very much obliged."

  Mr. Coulson laughed pleasantly.

  "You can have all you want of me from now till midnight," he declared."My business doesn't take very long, and I can only see the people Iwant to see in the middle of the day. After that, I don't mind tellingyou that I find time hangs a bit on my hands. Try one of these," headded, producing a cigar case.

  The Inspector thanked him and helped himself. Mr. Coulson summoned thewaiter.

  "Highball for me," he directed. "What's yours, Mr. Jacks?"

  "Thank you very much," the Inspector said. "I will take a little Scotchwhiskey and soda."

  The two men sat down. The corner was a retired one, and there was no onewithin earshot.

  "Say, are you still on this Hamilton Fynes business?" Mr. Coulson asked.

  "Partly," the Inspector replied.

  "You know, I'm not making reflections," Mr. Coulson said, stickinghis cigar in a corner of his mouth and leaning back in a comfortableattitude, "but it does seem to me that you are none too rapid on thisside in clearing up these matters. Why, a little affair of that sortwouldn't take the police twenty minutes in New York. We have a bigcity, full of alien quarters, full of hiding places, and chock full ofcriminals, but our police catch em, all the same. There's no one goingto commit murder in the streets of New York without finding himself inthe Tombs before he's a week older. No offence, Mr. Jacks."

  "I am not taking any, Mr. Coulson," the Inspector answered. "I mustadmit that there's a great deal of truth in what you say. It is rathera reflection upon us that we have not as yet even made an arrest, but Ithink you will also admit that the circumstances of those murders wereexceedingly curious."

  Mr. Coulson knocked the ash from his cigar.

  "Well, as to that," he said, "and if we are to judge only by what weread in the papers, they are curious, without a doubt. But I am notsupposing for one moment that you fellows at Scotland Yard don't knowmore than you've let on to the newspapers. You keep your discoveries outof the Press over here, and a good job, too, but you wouldn't persuademe that you haven't some very distinct theory as to how that crime wasworked, and the sort of person who did it. Eh, Mr. Jacks?"

  "We are perhaps not quite so ignorant as we seem," the Inspectoranswered, "and of course you are right when you say that we have a fewmore facts to go by than have appeared in the newspapers. Still, theaffair is an extremely puzzling one,--as puzzling, in its way," Mr.Jacks continued, "as the murder on the very next evening of this youngAmerican gentleman."

  Mr. Coulson nodded sympathetically. The drinks were brought, and heraised his glass to his guest.

  "Here's luck!" he said--"luck to you with your game of human chess, andluck to me with my woollen machinery patents! You were speaking of thatsecond murder," he remarked, setting down his glass. "I haven't noticedthe papers much this morning. Has any arrest been made yet?"

  "Not yet," the Inspector admitted. "To tell you the truth, we find italmost as puzzling an affair as the one in which Mr. Hamilton Fynes wasconcerned."

  Mr. Coulson nodded. He seemed content, at this stage in theirconversation, to assume the role of listener.

  "You read the particulars of the murder of Mr. Vanderpole, I suppose?"the Inspector asked.

  "Every word," Mr. Coulson answered. "Most interesting thing I've seen inan English newspaper since I landed. Didn't sound like London somehow.Gray old law-abiding place, my partner always calls it."

  "I am going to be quite frank with you, Mr. Coulson," the Inspectorcontinued. "I am going to tell you exactly why I have come to see youagain tonight."

  "Why, that's good," Mr. Coulson declared. "I like to know everything aman's got in his mind."

  "I have come to you," the Inspector said, "because, by a somewhatcurious coincidence, I find that, besides your slight acquaintance withand knowledge of Mr. Hamilton Fynes, you were also acquainted with thisMr. Richard Vanderpole,--that you were," he continued, knocking theash off his cigar and speaking a little more slowly, "the last person,except the driver of the taxicab, to have seen him alive."

  Mr. Coulson turned slowly around and faced his companion.

  "Now, how the devil do you know that?" he asked.

  The Inspector smiled tolerantly.

  "Well," he said, "that is very simple. The taxicab started from here.Mr. Vanderpole had been visiting some one in the hotel. There was notthe slightest difficulty in ascertaining that the person for whom heasked, and with whom he spent some twenty minutes in this very room, wasMr. James B. Coulson of New York."

  "Seated on this very couch, sir!" Mr. Coulson declared, striking the armof it with the flat of his hand,--"seated within a few feet of where youyourself are at this present moment."

  The Inspector nodded.

  "Naturally," he continued, "when I became aware of so singular anoccurrence, I felt that I must lose no time in coming and having a fewmore words with you."

  Mr. Coulson became meditative.

  "Upon my word, when you come to think of it," he said, "it is acoincidence, sure! Two men murdered within twenty-four hours, and I seemto have been the last person who knew them, to speak to either. Tellyou what, Mr. Jacks, if this goes on I shall get a bit scared. I think Ishall let the London business alone and go on over to Paris."

  The Inspector smiled.

  "I fancy your nerves," he remarked, "are quite strong enough to bear thestrain. However, I am sure you will not mind telling me exactly why Mr.Richard Vanderpole, Secretary to the American Embassy here, should havecome to see you on Thursday night."

  "Why, that's easy," Mr. Coulson replied. "You may have heard of myfirm, The Coulson & Bruce Company of Jersey City. I'm at the head of asyndicate that's controlling some very valuable patents which we want toexploit on this side and in Paris. Now my people don't exactly know howwe stand under this new patent bill of Mr. Lloyd George's. Accordinglythey wrote across to Mr. Blaine-Harvey, putting the matter to him, andasking him to give me his opinion the moment I arrived on this side. Yousee, it was no use our entering into contracts if we had to build theplant and make the stuff over here. We didn't stand any earthly show ofmaking it pay that way. Well, Mr. Harvey cabled out that I was just tolet him know the moment I landed, and before I opened up any business.Sure enough, I called him up on the telephone, an hour or so after I gothere, and this young man came round. I can tell you he was all right,too,--a fine, upstanding young fellow, and as bright as they make em.He brought a written opinion with him as to how the law would a
ffect ourproceedings. I've got it in my room if you'd care to see it?"

  Mr. Jacks listened to his companion's words with unchanged face.

  "If it isn't troubling you," he said, "it would be of some interest tome."

  Mr. Coulson rose to his feet.

  "You sit right here," he declared. "I'll be back in less than fiveminutes."

  Mr. Coulson was as good as his word. In less than the time mentioned hewas seated again by his companion's side with a square sheet of foolscapspread out upon the round table. The Inspector ran it through hurriedly.The paper was stamped American Embassy,' and it was the digest ofseveral opinions as to the effect of the new patent law upon the importof articles manufactured under processes controlled by the Coulson &Bruce syndicate. At the end there were a few lines in the Ambassador'sown handwriting, summing up the situation. Mr. Coulson produced anotherpacket of letters and documents.

  "If you've an hour or so to spare, Mr. Jacks," he said, "I'd like to goright into this with you, if it would interest you any. It's my businessover here, so naturally I am glad enough of an opportunity to talk itover."

  Mr. Jacks passed back the paper promptly.

  "I am extremely obliged to you," he said. "I am sure I should find itmost interesting. Another time I should be very glad indeed to lookthrough those specifications, but just now I have this affair of myown rather on my mind. About this Mr. Richard Vanderpole, Mr. Coulson,then," he added. "Do I understand that this young man came to you as acomplete stranger?"

  "Absolutely," Mr. Coulson answered. "I never saw him before in my life.As decent a young chap as ever I met with, all the same," he went on,"and comes of a good American stock, too. They tell me there's going tobe an inquest and that I shall be summoned, but I know nothing more thanwhat I've told you. If I did, you'd be welcome to it."

  Mr. Jacks leaned back in his chair. Certainly the situation increased inperplexity! The man by his side was talking now of the adaptation ofone of his patents to some existing machinery, and Jacks watched himcovertly. He considered himself, to some extent, a physiognomist. Hetold himself it was not possible that this man was playing a part. Mr.James B. Coulson sat there, the absolute incarnation of the genial manof affairs, interested in his business, interested in the great subjectof dollar-getting, content with himself and his position,--a personapparently of little imagination, for the shock of this matterconcerning which they had been talking had already passed away. He wasdoing his best to explain with a pencil on the back of an illustratedpaper some new system of wool-bleaching.

  "Mr. Coulson," the Inspector said suddenly, "do you know a young ladynamed Miss Penelope Morse?"

  It was here, perhaps, that Mr. Coulson sank a little from the heights ofcomplete success. He repeated the name, and obviously took time to thinkbefore he answered.

  "Miss Penelope Morse," the Inspector continued. "She is a young Americanlady, who lives with an invalid aunt in Park Lane, and who is takeneverywhere by the Duchess of Devenham, another aunt, I believe."

  "I suppose I may say that I am acquainted with her," Mr. Coulsonadmitted. "She came here the other evening with a young man--Sir CharlesSomerfield."

  "Ah!" the Inspector murmured.

  "She'd read that interview of mine with the Comet man," Mr. Coulsonsaid, "and she fancied that perhaps I could tell her something aboutHamilton Fynes."

  "First time you'd met her, I suppose?" the Inspector remarked.

  "Sure!" Mr. Coulson answered. "As a matter of fact, I know very few ofmy compatriots over here. I am an American citizen myself, and I haven'ttoo much sympathy with any one, man or woman, who doesn't find Americagood enough for them to live in."

  The Inspector nodded.

  "Quite so," he agreed. "So you hadn't anything to tell this young lady?"

  "Not a thing that she hadn't read in the Comet," Mr. Coulson replied."What brought her into your mind, anyway?"

  "Nothing particular," the Inspector answered carelessly. "Well, Mr.Coulson, I won't take up any more of your time. I am convinced that youhave told me all that you know, and I am afraid that I shall have tolook elsewhere to find the loose end of this little tangle."

  "Stay and have another drink," Mr. Coulson begged. "I've nothing to do.There are one or two boys coming in later who'll like to meet you."

  The Inspector shook his head.

  "I must be off," he said. "I want to get into my office before sixo'clock. I dare say I shall be running across you again before you goback."

  He shook hands and turned away. Then Mr. Coulson made what was, perhaps,his second slight mistake.

  "Say, Mr. Jacks," he exclaimed, "what made you mention that young lady'sname, anyway? I'm curious to know."

  The Inspector looked thoughtfully at the end of the fresh cigar which hehad just lit.

  "Well," he said, "I don't know that there was anything definite in mymind, only it seems a little strange that you and Miss Penelope Morseshould both have been acquainted with the murdered man and that youshould have come across one another."

  "Sort of bond between us, eh?" Mr. Coulson replied. "She seemed a verycharming young lady. Cut above Fynes, I should think."

  The detective smiled.

  "All your American young ladies who come over here are charming," hesaid. "Goodbye, Mr. Coulson, and many thanks!"

  The Inspector passed out, and the man whom he had come to visit, after amoment's hesitation, resumed his seat.

  "These aren't American methods," he muttered to himself. "I don'tunderstand them. That man Jacks is either a simpleton or he is toocunning for me."

  He crossed to a writing table and scribbled an unnecessary note,addressing it to a firm in the city. Then he rang for a messenger boyand handed it to him for delivery. A few minutes afterwards he strolledout into the hall. The boy was in the act of handing the note to one ofthe head porters, who carefully copied the address. Mr. Coulson returnedto the smoking room, whistling softly to himself.