CHAPTER VI

MR. DANJURO, THINKING MACHINE, EXPLAINS HIMSELF

"Won't you sit down?" I said foolishly. The little Japanese bowed

politely and did so.

I was at a loss what to say. My mind was in a whirl. I wanted to laugh,

to call Van Adams back, but my dominating sensation was one of supreme

annoyance. So this natty, commonplace little Asiatic was the

millionaire's "familiar spirit"! He was unique, was he! I cursed myself

for several kinds of fool to have saddled myself with this amazing

stranger at the beginning of my work. At any rate, I reflected

irritably, as I sat down opposite, I could easily send him off on some

wild-goose chase or another....

Yes! I was never more annoyed in my life, and my annoyance lasted for

exactly sixty seconds. Without the slightest embarrassment of any sort,

and with no preliminaries at all, Mr. Danjuro plunged into business. His

voice was clear and low. He had no accent of any kind, though his

English was a trifle pedantic and scholarly. He spoke as impersonally as

a gramophone.

"... I am entirely with you, Sir John, in your opinion that it is not in

the United States of America, but here--in England--that we shall solve

the mystery surrounding this dark business."

"But I never said ..."

He smiled faintly, almost wearily. "And since I have the great honour to

be associated with you, I trust you will allow me to suggest a plan of

campaign."

"I was going to try and think one out to-night."

"It is a privilege to assist. I have come in contact with many crafty

and malignant criminals during the last thirty years, but here one

detects a master. It will be a pleasure indeed to hunt him down. Have I

your honourable permission to smoke?"

With one hand he produced a square of rice paper and a pinch of tobacco

from his pocket, and rolled a cigarette on his knee like a conjuring

trick. He had not raised his voice, but a sudden gleam came into the

oblique black eyes which suggested the deep but hidden ferocity of his

race.

He resumed. "From all I have gathered, and I have talked much with

Captain Pring, Mr. Rickaby and the passengers of the _Albatros_, we

have to look for a man who is (1) an aviator in the first rank; (2) an

inventor and mechanical genius, or able to command the services of such;

(3) a person of some wealth or able to procure money."

I followed him completely and said so. From what we already knew these

deductions were perfectly fair ones.

"I thank you. Now we come to the man himself. I believe him to be a

person of education, and one who has held a good social position. He is

also desperate in his circumstances, and a person to whom material

pleasure is the highest good."

"Rickaby said that the men who came aboard the _Albatros_ spoke like

educated people."

"Yes. Our field of search already begins to grow narrower. Am I right in

saying that every aviator in this country must pass an examination and

be licensed before he is allowed to fly?"

"It is so. All aviators, professional or amateur, must have a licence

from the Air Police. This is registered. I have already had the records

for the past ten years searched at Whitehall. But this has yielded no

result. There is no one who could possibly be our man."

"It was well thought of, Sir John, if I may say so. But in my opinion we

shall have to go back a good deal further than ten years. We now come

to the question of the pirate airship itself and its peculiar qualities.

Let us fix upon one--the silence of its engines. I am aware that the

constructors of motor engines have been busy upon this problem for

years."

"And with little result. The problem has not been solved."

"Except by our unknown friends. I have already examined all the recent

patents of silencing devices at your patent office here. I spent

yesterday morning there, and found nothing. The significance of that is

obvious. Any ordinary inventor who had discovered something of such

importance would protect it at once. We can therefore make up our minds

that in no regular motor-engineering works throughout this country has

the complete silencer been evolved. It would be impossible for the most

brilliant inventor to keep such a thing entirely to himself."

"Again the field shrinks?"

"Yes, Sir John. We now have a man of the character already indicated,

who, as he has undoubtedly constructed silent engines, must have done so

in secret. He must have had private engineering works in order to make

an important part of his machines. The point is, where? On the

Continent? I think not. He would be watched far more carefully than in

this country. America is still more unlikely. Let us assume England.

Having done so, we can, I think, safely deduce that for obvious reasons

this man and his confederates--for we know he has them--would endeavour

to build his pirate ship as near as possible to the place he intended to

use as the base of his operations. And that base--if your experience

bears me out--is certainly somewhere or other on the coast?"

"Of course, one would say that it must be so, Mr. Danjuro. And yet it

seems impossible. The whole coast of England is patrolled by the

coastguards. For all practical purposes England is no bigger than a

pocket-handkerchief. I thought of Scotland and the Northern Isles. I

thought of wild places on the Irish coast. I have had a fleet of

airships surveying and photographing these places for the last two days.

No hangar bigger than a motor-shed could have escaped their notice. All

the land police of the villages round the coasts have been interrogated

by Scotland Yard. Nothing, nothing whatever has been seen."

I spoke with some passion, for I felt it. The sense of impotence was

maddening.

The Japanese rolled another cigarette. As he did so the door opened and

Thumbwood came in.

"I delivered your note, Sir John, and the editor's compliments and

thanks."

"Charles," I said, "this gentleman here is Mr. Danjuro. He is going to

help us. Mr. Danjuro is "--I hesitated for a moment, really it was

difficult to describe him!--"is one of the foremost detectives in the

world!"

Thumbwood's hand went up to his forehead in the stable boy's salute.

Then, as he saw my guest full-face, he started. "I saw you this morning,

sir," he said. "You were talking to old Mrs. Jessop, the dresser at the

Parthenon Theatre. It was in the 'Blue Dragon,' just round the corner by

the stage-door."

"And you were with the stage-door keeper. A curious coincidence," Mr.

Danjuro replied, with his weary smile, and at a look from me Thumbwood,

very puzzled indeed, left the room.

"I spent part of this morning at the Parthenon Theatre, Sir John. Your

servant apparently thought of doing the same thing. A man of

considerable acumen?--I imagined so. To proceed. Now that we have

cleared away a few preliminary obstructions, we arrive at a point which

I regard as of great significance. You are engaged--I speak of intimate

matters, but purely in my character of a consultant--to Miss Constance

Shepherd, a young lady of beauty and celebrity."

... Confound the fellow, he spoke of Connie as if she were a fish!

"That is so," I told him.

"That young lady was kidnapped by the unknown airman. From among all

the passengers she and her maid were singled out. Now that fact--upon

which you must have already pondered considerably--is a key fact. Was it

done for the purpose of holding this lady up to ransom? I see the

suggestion has been made in the Press. I answer no. In the first place,

it would be altogether too dangerous a game, and the attempt would

certainly lead to discovery. Secondly, there were other people on board

who would have been more profitable prey. The Duke of Perth, for

instance, or the cinema actor who receives sixty thousand pounds a year.

Now it is extremely improbable that in the rush and excitement of the

attack and robbery of the _Atlantis_, the pirate leader was suddenly

struck by a pretty face. Indeed, we know from accounts of the passengers

that Miss Shepherd was deliberately searched for. That indicates with

certainty that the pirate knew she was on board, and had a design of

capturing her. In its turn, this predicates a former acquaintance, and,

undoubtedly, a repulse in the past. Hence my inquiries and my interview

with the theatre dresser this morning."

I astonished that little man. It was the first and last time. Leaping up

in my chair, I believe I shouted like a madman. At any rate, Thumbwood

was inside the room before I could find words to speak.

Something had flashed upon me, white-hot and sudden, as an electric

advertisement flashes out upon one at night. It was something that I had

entirely and utterly forgotten until now.

"There was a man," I gasped, "a scoundrel who had been annoying Miss

Shepherd for a long time. He wanted to marry her. She told me of it.

_And he was once a celebrated flying man!_"

"Long ago, in the Great War," said Danjuro calmly. "Major Helzephron,

V.C. I was aware of it."

"And one of the boys if ever there was one, sir!" Thumbwood broke in.

"Warned off the course everywhere. I've got a bit of information too!"

I stared at them, trembling with excitement. And then reality, like a

cold douche of water, brought me to my senses. Of course, it was

impossible. The thing was a mere coincidence. Why, while the first

ship--the _Albatros_--had been attacked, this man, Helzephron, was in

London! He had travelled west in the same train with me and Connie.

"May I ask exactly what you know, Sir John?"

... I told Danjuro precisely what had happened at Paddington and how

Connie herself had explained it.

He listened to me in attentive silence. When I had finished, I saw that

a small leather pocket-book had appeared in his hands--everything that

the fellow did had the uncanny effect of a clever trick--and he was

turning over the leaves.

"So far," he began, "in the consideration of this problem we have been

eliminating impossibilities, or improbabilities so strong that they

amount to that. This has left us with a small residuum of fact, unproved

fact, but sufficient to work from. One thing emerges clearly. It is the

nature and personality of our unknown friend. It is not too much to say

that he MUST be very like what we have imagined him to be. A certain

person appears dimly on the scene--this Major Helzephron. Let us see how

his personality squares with the personality we have been deducing. Mr.

Thumbwood has apparently collected some information. I have done so,

too. Let us pool results!" He looked at Charles, who blushed.

"Out with it, Charles; you've done splendidly," I said.

"Well, Sir John, I found out that this gentleman is a pretty bad

wrong-'un, judging by the company he keeps. And he used to annoy Miss

Shepherd something chronic. He'd wait at the stage-door and try and

speak to her when she got into the car after the performance, and he was

always leaving notes and flowers with the stage-door keeper. Miss

Shepherd would never take them. She always sent them back from her room.

It got so bad at last that she complained to the stage manager, and he

had a plain clothes man from Vine Street there one night. Major

Helzephron was told off pretty plainly, I hear. He used to come very

nasty sometimes, and once or twice he was fair blotto! And Mr. Meggit,

the commission agent, knows him well. He's done a lot of racing in his

time, and no open scandal. But he knows how to work the market, and the

best men won't lay him the odds no more."

I shrugged my shoulders. It was only what one expected. The man was one

of the fast blackguards who infest the West End of London; that was all.

There were dozens like him. The facts only seemed to prove that he could

not possibly be connected with the Atlantic outrages.

"You see?" I said to the Japanese, sure that he would follow my thought.

Then I thanked good little Charles and he left the room.

"That is the surface," Danjuro replied. "I cross-examined a _woman_ who

was in constant attendance on Miss Shepherd. From her I learnt just what

your servant has discovered. But I went a little deeper. It is a case of

genuine overmastering passion on the part of this man. Nothing less. He

is of a dangerous age for that to come to him, certainly over forty-five

years. A woman knows. But that is not all."

"So far we have learnt nothing of importance." I was getting restive, I

wanted to be _doing_ something. And yet, what was there to do? If I had

thought all night by myself I could not have mapped out the situation

more clearly. And as I looked at the little man, half lost in a big

saddlebag chair, I felt ashamed of my irritation. A brain packed in ice

was there, a logical machine of the first order. I could not expect

humanity, sympathy, from such a one. Still, it would have helped! Hadn't

I lost the one thing that made life worth living? What might not be

happening to Connie even now?

... He read my thoughts like a book, confound him!

"I understand your feelings, believe me, Sir John," he said, "but I must

go my own way. We have not been talking for an hour yet! And if it is

any consolation for you to know, let me say that it is imperative that

we leave London to-night."

"My nerves are strained. Please go on," I answered. "I can hardly tell

you what a godsend your appearance on the scene really is to me."

"In my business as agent and guard to my patron, Mr. Van Adams, it is

always necessary that I keep more or less in touch with a certain circle

of what I may describe as the aristocracy, the brains of International

Crime. It has proved useful. After my visit to the Parthenon this

morning I called upon an old acquaintance, the Honourable James

Brookfield."

"Lord Slidon's son? The man who got five years ..."

"Yes. Of course, everyone knows his name. He made one little slip. Mr.

Brookfield is very acute, and a great student of character. Entirely

incapable of understanding a man or woman of decent morals and normal

instincts, he is infallible in his judgment of the criminal type. Mr.

Brookfield owes me any little service he can render, and I supplemented

my request for information with a note for fifty pounds."

"And you learnt ...?"

"That Major Helzephron is all we have just heard, but a far more

sinister and formidable person than anyone suspects. He is a man of

marked intellectual powers. Below the veneer of coarse pleasures and

fast life in London and Paris, there is something that glows like a hot

coal. His appearances in town are irregular and fitful. His real life,

Brookfield is certain of this, is lived far away from cities. And it is

_a life with a purpose_."

Quite suddenly and unexpectedly Mr. Danjuro began to reveal himself.

The last words were spoken in a changed voice. The flatness and monotony

had vanished. The words vibrated in the room, and I felt the thrill of

them. It was the power of personality, and from then onwards I was hand

in glove with this bizarre thinking machine that Fate had sent me.

I tried to emulate Danjuro's dispassionate and scientific method.

"It is curious," I said, "that a real intellect should care to spend

part of its time in rake-helling round the low clubs, the gambling-rooms

and stage-doors of London. Such a thing is known, but it is rare."

"You put your finger instantly upon what seems a weak spot in my

character sketch. But let us assume that it has been done with a deep

motive."

"Ah!" He knew, or suspected, something more. He referred to his

notebook.

"Two years ago a certain Mr. Herbert Gascoigne was expelled from Christ

Church College, Oxford."

"Sent down, we call it; but go on."

"The case was a bad one. The young man had established a sort of

gambling club and ruined several of his contemporaries. It was

discovered that he was using a roulette wheel that had been tampered

with. He came to London and drifted into the worst gang of swindlers.

Major Helzephron met him. They became very friendly. The younger man was

obviously under the influence of the elder. Finally Gascoigne deserted

his old haunts and has disappeared."

I began to see light.

"On several occasions my astute friend, Mr. Brookfield, has witnessed

precisely the same phenomenon. Some young man of the upper classes has

been ruined socially, and our enigmatic friend has taken him up, been

seen about with him, and so forth. Finally the young man vanishes."

"It is not philanthropy, Mr. Danjuro."

"It is not, and it gives rise to curious speculations. Where could a

Napoleonic criminal, patiently planning and meditating a stupendous

coup, find a better recruiting ground than among the desperate and

ruined young men of his own class? The plan is in itself evidence of

genius. They speak his language, he understands their way of thought;

there are a thousand bonds between them. I can conceive no more solid

and formidable combination than just this. The one last virtue remaining

to these desperate and outcast young men will be loyalty to their

leader. Society has cast them out, therefore they will make war on

Society. Given that attitude of mind, a leader like Major Helzephron,

and a plan so daring, and the thing becomes plain as daylight. And if

this man had not fallen into an overmastering passion for Miss Shepherd

there would have been no means of getting on his trail at all."

It was only with great difficulty that I could control my thoughts. We

seemed miles nearer the truth than I had been an hour ago. Then one idea

emerged clearly.

"Quite so. And isn't it all in our favour that we, and we alone, are in

a position to connect Helzephron with the piracy? He will think himself

perfectly secure?"

"I do not for a moment believe," Danjuro replied with emphasis, "that a

single soul besides ourselves has the least suspicion. The man will have

taken supreme care to cover his tracks. My inquiries could have

suggested nothing to the people I interviewed. Mr. Brookfield thinks I

required my information for quite another reason. Yes, Sir John, we have

a task of immense difficulty and danger before us. You must recognize

that to the full. My sincere belief is that it would be somewhat safer

to venture into a cage of cobras than where we have to go. But"--he took

out his watch--"it is five o'clock. Let us say that the game begins at

this moment! Very well. We, and not the enemy, have scored the first

point!"

He suddenly glided from his chair with a single sinuous movement. As he

stood up he was transformed. The bland modern look faded from his face.

It grew terrible. The eyes narrowed to slits of light, the square jaw

protruded, the grey lips were caught up in a tiger-grin, and the slim

body seemed to swell out with iron muscle like a wrestler stripped in

the arena.

You have seen some of the real old Japanese colour-prints, pictures of

the ancient Samurai or the frightful Akudogi shouting at you--yes? The

flat, awful stolidity, the incarnate hate....

Then you have seen something of what I saw then.

Wow! Millionaire Van Adams was well served!