Chapter 9 Murder

KINDELL CONSIDERED what he should do. The train had gone, and Myra doubtless with it. Returning the parcel to her could no longer be important. The question of her arrest, unless upon a charge of complicity too vague for him to define or judge, no longer arose. If at all, it would be at a later date. The event had justified Reynard's doubt. There was probably a telegram of instructions waiting now which would disclose the Frenchman's verification of that which he had deduced before. But the use of that telegram had gone. The incident had taken its own course. His own must be to report to Scotland Yard, and almost certainly be told that his services in this matter were no longer needed. Would that leave him free to tell the Thurlows enough of the truth to put himself right with them? He wished that he could have more confidence in that than he was able to feel. His oath of secrecy was strictly worded, and must be strictly observed. Still, if Blinkwell should be arrested - - But would he? Reynard had been shrewd enough to guess that they were being offered a false scent, but did it follow that he had discovered the real channel by which the smuggling was to be done? He put surmise aside to ask Talbot, who was now offering his assistance to pack the suitcase which had been found to replace the cut one:

"Do you know when the next train will leave for Victoria?"

The man was about to reply when his attention was diverted to a uniformed official who held an open telegram in his hand. After a whispered word, he asked, "You are William Kindell?"

"Yes. Is that for me?"

"It is a message for you." The man spoke with a gravity which the situation did not seem to require until he added, "You are required to return to Paris at once. Henri Reynard has been murdered."

It was startling, unexpected news, but his profession had accustomed him to take what came without confusion of mind. He asked: "Required? Is it from the Bureau de S?ret?? He frowned at a word which he felt to be ill-chosen, even under such circumstances. His responsibility was not to them.

"No. It is signed Wickham."

Then it was from Scotland Yard. It was an instruction to be obeyed. But he would prefer to know more, if he could. He asked, "When does the boat leave?"

"In about four hours from now."

Then there was plenty of time. Time for a needed meal. Time to get more information as to what he would find in Paris. He went at once to the telephone, got through to London, asked to speak to Mr. Wickham, and heard Superintendent Henderson's voice at the other end of the wire.

He wanted information, and found that he was expected to be able to give it.

"This is a bad business, Kindell. What do you know about it?"

"About what? Reynard being murdered? Nothing at all."

"But I understand you were there at the time?"

"Then you've been told something wrong. Where did it happen?"

"In Thurlow's rooms. The Paris police say it's between you and the ambassador, and naturally you're the one they'd prefer to charge."

"Charge me? You know that's absurd. Actually, I knew nothing about it until I heard what you'd wired here."

"But they say you were seen coming out of Thurlow's suite just before the body was found. What can you say to that?"

"I called there before leaving. Naturally. They were friends. I can't say what bodies were found after, or where. I know nothing about it. But I'm sure Thurlow wouldn't kill anyone. It's that swine Blinkwell more likely than not."

"I can't say about that. You say Thurlow wouldn't kill anyone. The Paris police don't seem equally sure. They say he's known to be a handy man with a gun."

"And Reynard was shot?"

"I didn't say that. Being quick one way doesn't imply being slow in another. But our Paris friends seem to prefer the idea of you."

"But how can they when they know why I was there? It isn't sense. And what motive - - "

"They don't know anything. Reynard did; but he's dead."

"You can let them know."

"But I can't say that we shall. You'll be a lot more likely to get at the truth if no one knows why you were there."

"I don't see that, and besides - - "

"But we do. And I don't suppose you'll have any real difficulty. Innocent men aren't guillotined. You'll find our Paris friends will assure you of that. . . . You're best course is to get back as quickly as you can, and let them know you didn't wait to be extradited."

"It sounds pleasant for me."

"Sorry, Kindell. But it's all in the game. And if you will go where policemen are being killed, and where you've no business to be - - "

"Yes. I see that. . . . Well, I'll get back, and find out what I can."

He hung up, conscious rather of a confused excitement of mind than any real fear. It would be absurd to accuse him of such a crime. Yet he saw points which he disliked. It was true that no one but Reynard had known that he was an agent of the English police. True that Reynard's methods were so individual, so secretive, that no one living might know the purpose which had taken him to the H?tel Splendide, or why he should have been in the ambassador's suite. Kindell himself could form no more than a vague conjecture concerning that, though he must accept the fact, Superintendent Henderson being a most unlikely man to be inaccurate, or extend statements beyond that of which he had been clearly informed. He saw also that, if the murder had been perpetrated in such a manner that suspicion was divided between Thurlow and himself, there might be a very natural official inclination to prefer the less conspicuous accus?.

He looked at the clock, and said, "Damn," observing that he still had more than three hours to wait. He had the temperament which prefers to meet trouble quickly, if it cannot be left aside. But that disposition did not prevent him eating a good dinner, or sleeping well on a boat that pitched and rolled as it faced a gusty wind and a choppy sea.