Part 26 (1/2)

I gave my promise and then, accompanied by the Inspector, left the house. Hailing a pa.s.sing cab we jumped into it and told the driver to proceed as fast as he could to the hotel in question. Just as we started a clock in the neighbourhood struck twelve. Phyllis had been in Nikola's hands three hours.

Pulling up opposite the _Canary Bird_ (the place where the coachman had been drugged), we jumped out and bade the cabman wait. The hotel was in complete darkness, and it was not until we had pealed the bell twice that we succeeded in producing any sign of life. Then the landlord, half dressed, carrying a candle in his hand, came downstairs and called out to know who was there and what we wanted. My companion immediately said ”Police,” and in answer to that magic word the door was unbarred.

”Good-evening, Mr. Bartrell,” said the Inspector. ”May we come in for a moment on business?”

”Certainly, Mr. Inspector,” said the landlord, who evidently knew my companion. ”But isn't this rather late for a call. I hope there is nothing the matter?”

”Nothing much,” returned the Inspector: ”only we want to make a few inquiries about a man who was here to-night, and for whom we are looking.”

”If that is so I'm afraid I must call my barman. I was not in the bar this evening. If you'll excuse me I'll go and bring him down. In the meantime make yourselves comfortable.”

He left us to kick our heels in the hall while he went upstairs again.

In about ten minutes, and just as my all-consuming impatience was well-nigh getting the better of me, he returned, bringing with him the sleepy barman.

”These gentlemen want some information about a man who was here to-night,” the landlord said by way of introduction. ”Perhaps you can give it?”

”What was he like, sir?” asked the barman of the Inspector. The latter, however, turned to me.

”Tall, slim, with a sallow complexion,” I said, ”black hair and very dark restless eyes. He came in here with the Hon. Sylvester Wetherell's coachman.”

The man seemed to recollect him at once.

”I remember him,” he said. ”They sat in No. 5 down the pa.s.sage there, and the man you mention ordered a n.o.bbler of rum and a whisky.”

”That's the fellow we want,” said the Inspector. ”Now tell me this, have you ever seen him in here before?”

”Never once,” said the barman, ”and that's a solemn fact, because if I had I couldn't have forgotten it. His figure-head wouldn't let you do that. No, sir, to-night was the first night he's ever been in the _Canary Bird_.”

”Did any one else visit them while they were in the room together?”

”Not as I know of. But stay, I'm not so certain. Yes; I remember seeing a tall, good-looking chap come down the pa.s.sage and go in there. But it was some time, half an hour maybe, after I took in the drinks.”

”Did you see him come out again?”

”No. But I know the coachman got very drunk, and had to be carried out to the carriage.”

”How do you know that?”

”Because I saw the other two doing it.”

The Inspector turned to me.

”Not very satisfactory, is it?”

”No,” I answered. ”But do you mind letting us look into No. 5--the room they occupied?”

”Not at all,” said the landlord. ”Come with me.”

So saying he led the way down the pa.s.sage to a little room on the right-hand side, the door of which he threw open with a theatrical flourish. It was in pitch darkness, but a few seconds later the gas was lit and we could see all that it contained. A small table stood in the centre of the room, and round the walls were ranged two or three wooden chairs. A small window was at the further end and a fireplace opposite the door. On the table was a half-smoked cigar and a torn copy of the _Evening Mercury_. But that was not what I wanted, so I went down on my hands and knees and looked about upon the floor. Presently I descried a small ball of paper near the grate. Picking it up I seated myself at the table and turned to the barman, who was watching my movements attentively.