The Case of the Threatened King

by Robert Newman

  He came out a moment later, held the door open and said, “The count will see you in here, Inspector.”

  Wyatt walked past him, followed by Andrew. They found themselves in a somber office that had once been either a library or a study. Standing in front of the large desk was a tall man who wore a tweed travelling suit rather than the accepted diplomatic dress of tailcoat and striped trousers. He was probably in his late thirties but, possibly because his face was drawn and tired, he looked older than that.

  “Good morning, Inspector,” he said with no trace of an accent.

  “Good morning, Count. It was good of you to see us so promptly.”

  The count shrugged. “I always assume that Scotland Yard’s business is urgent. Though”—he glanced at Andrew—“I did not realize that you had anyone on the force who was quite so young.”

  “He’s not, of course, with us officially,” said Wyatt, acknowledging the jest with a smile, “but young as he is, he has been very helpful to us on several occasions. I think you will understand his presence when I tell you why I am here. Meanwhile, may I introduce Andrew Tillett? Count Milanovitch.”

  “I’m happy to meet you,” said the count, bowing politely. “I assume that you’re here to review the arrangements for King Alexander’s protection.”

  “Not exactly. I take it that His Majesty has arrived?”

  “Yes. At about nine this morning. You say that that is not what you wanted to see me about?”

  “No. I’ve met with Sir Roger and the Special Branch, and I am of course familiar with all the security arrangements. But what I wanted to talk to you about was your daughter, Maria.”

  The count stiffened. “What do you know about Maria?” he asked in a strained voice.

  “I know that, in spite of what your wife says, she has been kidnapped.”

  “That … that’s ridiculous!”

  “Will you stop that, Count?” said Wyatt angrily. “I saw your wife immediately after it happened, and I was willing to make allowances for her state of shock and the fact that she was terrified. But you … Don’t you know by now who you can trust?”

  “I … I’m not sure.”

  “Well, you should be. And if Sir Roger and the Foreign Office trust me, you should be able to also. Now I say again, she’s been kidnapped, hasn’t she?”

  His face even paler than it had been, the count studied him for a moment then making up his mind, he said, “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Because another girl, a friend of Andrew’s here, has been kidnapped too. That’s how he became involved in the case, why he’s here with me.”

  “I see.”

  “When I last saw your wife, she said that you had gone up to Scotland. Was that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did your trip have anything to do with Maria’s kidnapping?”

  “In a sense, yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The first note we got said that she had been kidnapped, warned us not to go to the police and said that instructions would follow. The second note came almost immediately after and told me to take a thousand pounds to Edinburgh. Further instructions would be waiting for me in a note left for me at the Royal Caledonian Hotel.”

  “What were the instructions?”

  “To put the money in a bag and leave it in the cloak room of the Waverly Station. Then to bring the claim ticket back to the hotel and leave it there in an envelope for Mr. Barney.”

  “Which you did.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll wire the Edinburgh police and have them pick up the money.”

  “Have them …? Don’t you think the kidnappers have it by now?”

  “It’s possible, but I doubt it. The purpose of the exercise was not to get the money, but to get you out of London.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will. You were gone for how long, two days?”

  “A little more than that. I just got back about an hour ago.” He glanced down at his clothes. “As you can see, I haven’t had a chance to change.”

  “Yes. In the meantime, the arrangements for His Majesty’s visit to the queen remain the same?”

  “Yes. He’s due at Buckingham Palace at five o’clock.”

  “Will anyone else be riding in the carriage with him?”

  “Yes, of course. I will be.”

  “It’s possible that you will not.”

  “I beg your pardon? Why not?”

  “I’ll explain that when I explain everything else to you.”

  “Which will be when?”

  “Probably this afternoon. But first, there’s something I want you to do for me.”

  “If it will help to bring back my daughter, I will do anything!”

  “That’s what the kidnappers counted on.”

  “Do you know who they are? Where she is?”

  “I think so.”

  “And … and you also think …?”

  “I’m quite sure that we can get her back for you safe and sound.”

  “Then … what do you want me to do?”

  “I talked to your assistant, the second secretary, while you were away. His name is Gradowsky, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Count Gradowsky.”

  “I’d like to talk to him again. Would you have him come in here?”

  “Of course.” He tugged three times at the bellpull on the wall. “That is his ring. It will bring him in without my having to send for him.”

  “Very efficient. Now, sir,” he looked intently at the count, making certain that he had his full attention, “this is important. Do you have work to do, paper work?”

  “As you can see.” The count nodded toward his desk. “A great deal of work.”

  “Good. Then sit down there and become busy—as if we’ve concluded our discussion. And this is the important part. No matter what I say to Gradowsky, do not act surprised. Clear?”

  The count returned Wyatt’s glance, looking at him just as intently as Wyatt had looked at him. His eyes widened slightly, as if he were beginning to understand something that had puzzled him. He nodded, sat down at his desk and busied himself with the papers on it.

  “The same thing applies to you, of course,” said Wyatt turning to Andrew. “No surprise. But there’s something else. You know how I like Tucker to keep his eye on anyone I’m talking to so that we can compare notes later?”

  Andrew did know. He’d been present several times when Wyatt was questioning someone and had been interested in the way the two men worked together. For while Tucker sat unobtrusively off to one side with his notebook open on his knee, he was not merely taking notes. He was also watching the person who was being questioned, and being outside the subject’s field of vision, he sometimes saw something—a reaction or small involuntary movement—that Wyatt might have missed.

  Before Andrew could answer, there was a perfunctory knock, the door opened, and Count Gradowsky came in. He was dressed exactly as he had been except that today the flower in his buttonhole was a cornflower.

  “You wanted me, sir?” he asked Milanovitch.

  “Hmmm?” The count looked up with pretended abstraction from the paper he was reading. “I didn’t, Gregor, but the inspector here did. I gather you know one another.”

  “Indeed, yes. How do you do, Inspector?”

  “Nice to see you again, Count. As you’ve probably gathered, I came over here to review the security arrangements for His Majesty’s visit to the queen this afternoon. When I got here, the count told me that he’d just gotten an urgent message asking him to come over to the Foreign Office for a meeting this afternoon. He’ll probably be back in time to accompany His Majesty to Buckingham Palace, but if he isn’t, you’ll be able to ride over with the king, won’t you?”

  When Gradowsky came in, Andrew had gone over to the window as if he had no interest in—and of course no connection with—what was happening in the room. But his move was completely unnecessary, for there was nothing subtle about Grado
wsky’s reaction, nothing anyone could miss. He went white and swayed slightly, his hands gripping one another behind his back as if seeking comfort.

  “Go with the king?” he asked in an unsteady voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Of course, if it’s necessary, I would be honored to do so. But I wonder if it’s advisable.” He cleared his throat. “As you can no doubt hear, I seem to have contracted a catarrh or quinsy of the throat, which I suspect may be infectious. And if it is …”

  “Naturally, the king should not be exposed to it,” said Wyatt. “Well, it’s not important. If the count hasn’t returned in time, there’s no reason why His Majesty cannot go alone.”

  “None,” said Gradowsky. “That would certainly be best.” He started toward the door, then caught himself, “Was there anything else, Count?”

  “No,” said Milanovitch. He looked thoughtfully after the second secretary as he left, and though he was frowning, there was a gleam of something else in his eyes when he turned back to Wyatt. “You have found out something you wished to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you still do not want to tell me about it.”

  “Not yet. I would still like to wait until this afternoon.”

  “Very well.” He pushed back his chair and stood up. “I will see you out. It is curious, very curious, how some little thing—even a question—can set one to thinking, make one see something one was not aware of before.”

  He had opened the door and gestured to Wyatt and Andrew, inviting them to precede him out of the office, when there was a clatter of heels and a young man came running down the flight of marble steps that led to the upper stories of the embassy. He was about sixteen years old, slim and dark-haired. He was wearing boots, breeches and a military tunic, but the collar of his tunic was open, his hair was disheveled, and his dark eyes were bright with excitement.

  “Michael, Michael!” he shouted. He began to say something in a Slavic-sounding language, then caught sight of Wyatt and Andrew. “Oh,” he said, slowing his headlong descent to a more dignified walk. “I’m sorry. I did not realize you were busy.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Milanovitch. “May I present Inspector Wyatt of Scotland Yard and Master Andrew Tillett? His Majesty, King Alexander.”

  “Your Majesty,” said Wyatt, bowing.

  “I am very happy to meet you, Inspector,” said the young king, shaking his hand. “I am a great admirer of Scotland Yard. In fact, I had intended to ask Count Milanovitch if it would be possible for me to visit there.”

  “It certainly would,” said Wyatt. “If you would tell the count when you would like to come, I will make all the arrangements.”

  “That would be splendid!” said the king. “As for Master Andrew …” He hesitated. “Is it Master Andrew or Master Tillett?”

  “It depends on who is speaking,” said Wyatt.

  “No, no. Please do not give me another rule to remember!” said the king with pretended dismay. “If you knew what I have been going through preparing for my visit to your queen. You tell me,” he said to Andrew. “What do your friends call you?”

  A little dazed by what was happening, Andrew actually had to think before he could answer.

  “Just Tillett,” he said. “Except for one or two close ones who call me Andrew.”

  “May I too call you Tillett, then?”

  “Why … why, yes.”

  “Thank you. Are you in a great hurry?”

  Andrew glanced at Wyatt. “No, Your Majesty,” he said.

  “Then could we talk for a few minutes? You see, you are the first English person of an age at all close to mine that I have ever met.”

  “That’s astonishing. I mean … well, I was wondering where you learned to speak English so well.”

  “You find I do not speak too badly?”

  “I think you speak wonderfully. I wish I spoke anything I’m studying, like French, a quarter as well.”

  “You’re very kind, but I can take little credit for it. You see, I had an English nanny, Miss Dudley, from the time I was very small. And from the age of nine, I had an English tutor, Robert Langham. As a matter of fact, though I did not speak it all the time, I think I spoke English before I spoke Serbian.”

  “I see.”

  “Now a question. Do you play cricket?”

  “Yes, a bit.”

  “He’s being modest,” said Wyatt. “I happen to know that he’s very good, a first-rate bowler.”

  “And I just found out the other day that the inspector is a top flight cricketer,” said Andrew. “He won his blue playing for Trinity.”

  “See?” said the king delightedly to Milanovitch. “You stand there frowning and tapping your foot because you think I am wasting time, mine and the inspector’s, but I have just learned several interesting things. One of them is that we have two cricketers here who will take me to Lord’s one of these days to see a match. They are still playing there, are they not?” he asked Wyatt.

  “They certainly are. They’ll be playing the Test match with Australia there in two weeks.”

  “I could have told you that,” said Milanovitch, who actually did not look at all impatient. “What else have you learned?”

  “That if you want to find out anything about a man, do not talk to him—talk to his friend. For would either the inspector or Tillett have told me as much about themselves as each told me about the other?”

  “Probably not,” said Wyatt. “And now I will let you in on a police secret. The opposite is also true. You can often learn more about a man from his enemy than you can from either a friend or the man himself.”

  “Yes,” said the king, nodding. “I can see that.”

  “And now, though I am not the least bit impatient, you must not keep the inspector here any longer,” said the count.

  “Of course. I’m sure he has things to do and I know that you and I have things to discuss,” said the king. He turned back to Wyatt. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to have met you,” he said, shaking hands with him. “I will see you again?”

  “You certainly will—at the Yard and at Lord’s.

  “And you, Tillett, I’ll see you again too?”

  “I hope so, Your Majesty.”

  “The answer is yes, Your Majesty,” said Wyatt. “I’ll make sure that he’s along both times.”

  “Good,” said the king. “Goodbye.”

  The porter, who had been waiting unobtrusively in the background, opened the door for them. The last glimpse they had of the king as they went out was of him standing next to the count and smiling after them.

  14

  Questions and Answers

  This time, as they left the embassy, both the constables on duty saluted Wyatt simultaneously, and he nodded to them. “We’re going back to the Yard,” he said to Andrew. “If we walk, it will give us a chance to talk. That is,” he glanced sideways at him, “if you haven’t forgotten how to talk.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You look, as our friend Sergeant Tucker would say, struck all of a heap.”

  “Well, I never expected to meet a king. And if I did, I certainly never expected him to be anything like that.”

  “I know. Nice chap. And as Chadwick said, a good and very important friend of England. And now is everything clear to you? Do you know just what’s been going on?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “Well, first of all, it seems to be a plot to kill the king.”

  “How?”

  “By blowing him up with the dynamite we found in the sewer. I’m not sure who’s behind it, but apparently someone is waiting in number one sixty-nine, where that wire went, and when the king goes by in his carriage, they intended to set off the dynamite.”

  “Right. His route, which we’ve been keeping as secret as we have the time of his visit to see the queen, was to be up Claverton Street, Denbigh Street and Wilton Road to Buckingham Palace. Now go back and fill in
some of the details. What did Ernie, the tosher who was killed, have to do with it?”

  “If they wanted to place the dynamite in the sewer, they had to have someone who knew the sewers show them how to get where they wanted to go. That would be Ernie. And I suspect that the man he took there, the man who placed the dynamite, was the chap they call Smiling Sam.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, Abner saw him talking to Ernie, and he and the landlord both said he was a small man, which means he would have been able to get through the narrow place into the branch of the sewer. But besides that, wasn’t he known as Sammy the Shiv? So after Ernie had taken him into the sewer—and of course he wouldn’t have told Ernie what he wanted to do there—he knifed him to keep him from going to the police—as Ernie certainly would have done after the explosion.”

  “Right. And of course there are other things linking Sam to the whole plot. Dodson saw him watching your house when Harry the bootblack delivered the first ransom note. And having used Harry once, he used him again to pick up the counterfeit money that was left in Regent’s Park. After he had collected it from Harry, he must have stabbed him, intending to keep him from talking, just as he did Ernie.”

  “But who’s behind the whole plot? And what does it have to do with Sara?”

  “Well, if Smiling Sam’s involved, we know at least one other person who is.”

  “Addie Barnett, the fence’s widow.”

  “Yes. As to what it all has to do with Sara, we’ve been over that before, and we agreed that she was kidnapped by mistake. Whether Addie Barnett and Sam made the the mistake or whether they came in later, after someone else did, is unimportant.”

  “But even if that’s true—even if it was really Maria they wanted—I still don’t see … Wait a minute. I think I do now!”

  “Of course you do. Tell me about Maria’s father, Count Milanovitch. Do you think he’s loyal to the king?”

  “I’m sure he is. Not just loyal to him, but tremendously fond of him. And of course that’s the answer. The count helped make all the arrangements for the king’s visit to Buckingham Palace, and he would never reveal the details to anyone of whom he was the least bit suspicious. So, if someone wanted to know the plans in advance—what the route was and when he’d be going—the first thing they’d have to do would be to get the count out of the way.”