The Seven Dials Mystery

The Countess's return to consciousness was very different from that of Jimmy Thesiger. It was more prolonged and infinitely more artistic.

Artistic was Bundle's word. She had been zealous in her ministrations—largely consisting of the application of cold water—and the Countess had instantly responded, passing a white, bewildered hand across her brow and murmuring faintly.

It was at this point that Bill, at last relieved from his duties with telephone and doctors, had come bustling into the room and had instantly proceeded to make (in Bundle's opinion) a most regrettable idiot of himself.

He had hung over the Countess with a concerned and anxious face and had addressed a series of singularly idiotic remarks to her:

"I say, Countess. It's all right. It's really all right. Don't try to talk. It's bad for you. Just lie still. You'll be all right in a minute. It'll all come back to you. Don't say anything till you're quite all right. Take your time. Just lie still and close your eyes. You'll remember everything in a minute. Have another sip of water. Have some brandy. That's the stuff. Don't you think, Bundle, that some brandy...?"

"For God's sake, Bill, leave her alone," said Bundle crossly. "She'll be all right."

And with an expert hand she flipped a good deal of cold water on to the exquisite make-up of the Countess's face.

The Countess flinched and sat up. She looked considerably more wide awake.

"Ah!" she murmured. "I am here. Yes, I am here."

"Take your time," said Bill. "Don't talk till you feel quite all right again."

The Countess drew the folds of a very transparent négligé closer around her.

"It is coming back to me," she murmured. "Yes, it is coming back."

She looked at the little crowd grouped around her. Perhaps something in the attentive faces struck her as unsympathetic. In any case she smiled deliberately up at the one face which clearly displayed a very opposite emotion.

"Ah, my big Englishman," she said very softly, "do not distress yourself. All is well with me."

"Oh! I say, but are you sure?" demanded Bill anxiously.

"Quite sure." She smiled at him reassuringly. "We Hungarians, we have nerves of steel."

A look of intense relief passed over Bill's face. A fatuous look settled down there instead—a look which made Bundle earnestly long to kick him.

"Have some water," she said coldly.

The Countess refused water. Jimmy, kindlier to beauty in distress, suggested a cocktail. The Countess reacted favourably to this suggestion. When she had swallowed it, she looked round once more, this time with a livelier eye.

"Tell me, what has happened?" she demanded briskly.

"We were hoping you might be able to tell us that," said Superintendent Battle.

The Countess looked at him sharply. She seemed to become aware of the big, quiet man for the first time.

"I went to your room," said Bundle. "The bed hadn't been slept in and you weren't there."

She paused—looking accusingly at the Countess. The latter closed her eyes and nodded her head slowly.

"Yes, yes, I remember it all now. Oh, it was horrible!" She shuddered. "Do you want me to tell you?"

Superintendent Battle said, "If you please" at the same moment that Bill said, "Not if you don't feel up to it."

The Countess looked from one to the other, but the quiet, masterful eye of Superintendent Battle won the game.

"I could not sleep," began the Countess. "The house—it oppressed me. I was all, as you say, on wires, the cat on the hot bricks. I knew that in the state I was in it was useless to think of going to bed. I walked about my room. I read. But the books placed there did not interest me greatly. I thought I would come down here and find something more absorbing."

"Very natural," said Bill.

"Very often done, I believe," said Battle.

"So as soon as the idea occurred to me, I left my room and came down. The house was very still—"

"Excuse me," interrupted the Superintendent, "but can you give me an idea of the time when this occurred?"

"I never know the time," said the Countess superbly, and swept on with her story.

"The house was very quiet. One could even hear the little mouse run, if there had been one. I come down the stairs—very quietly—"

"Very quietly?"

"Naturally, I do not want to disturb the household," said the Countess reproachfully. "I come in here. I go into this corner and I search the shelves for a suitable book."

"Having, of course, switched on the light?"

"No, I did not switch on the light. I had, you see, my little electric torch with me. With that, I scanned the shelves."

"Ah!" said the Superintendent.

"Suddenly," continued the Countess dramatically, "I hear something. A stealthy sound. A muffled footstep. I switch out my torch and listen. The footsteps draw nearer—stealthy, horrible footsteps. I shrink behind the screen. In another minute the door opens and the light is switched on. The man—the burglar is in the room."

"Yes, but I say—" began Mr. Thesiger.

A large-sized foot pressed his, and realizing that Superintendent Battle was giving him a hint, Jimmy shut up.

"I nearly died of fear," continued the Countess. "I tried not to breathe. The man waited for a minute, listening. Then, still with that horrible, stealthy tread—"

Again Jimmy opened his mouth in protest, and again shut it.

"—he crossed to the window and peered out. He remained there for a minute or two, then he recrossed the room and turned out the lights again, locking the door. I am terrified. He is in the room, moving stealthily about in the dark. Ah, it is horrible. Suppose he should come upon me in the dark! In another minute I hear him again by the window. Then silence. I hope that perhaps he may have gone out that way. As the minutes pass and I hear no further sound, I am almost sure that he has done so. Indeed I am in the very act of switching on my torch and investigating when—prestissimo!—it all begins."

"Yes?"

"Ah! But it was terrible—never—never shall I forget it! Two men trying to murder each other. Oh, it was horrible! They reeled about the room, and furniture crashed in every direction. I thought, too, that I heard a woman scream—but that was not in the room. It was outside somewhere. The criminal had a hoarse voice. He croaked rather than spoke. He kept saying, 'Lemme go—lemme go.' The other man was a gentleman. He had a cultured, English voice."

Jimmy looked gratified.

"He swore—mostly," continued the Countess.

"Clearly a gentleman," said Superintendent Battle.

"And then," continued the Countess, "a flash and a shot. The bullet hit the bookcase beside me. I—I suppose I must have fainted."

She looked up at Bill. He took her hand and patted it.

"You poor dear," he said. "How rotten for you."

"Silly idiot," thought Bundle.

Superintendent Battle had moved on swift, noiseless feet over to the bookcase a little to the right of the screen. He bent down, searching. Presently he stooped and picked something up.

"It wasn't a bullet, Countess," he said. "It's the shell of the cartridge. Where were you standing when you fired, Mr. Thesiger?"

Jimmy took up a position by the window.

"As nearly as I can say, about here."

Superintendent Battle placed himself in the same spot.

"That's right," he agreed. "The empty shell would throw right rear. It's a .455. I don't wonder the Countess thought it was a bullet in the dark. It hit the bookcase about a foot from her. The bullet itself grazed the window frame and we'll find it outside to-morrow—unless your assailant happens to be carrying it about in him."

Jimmy shook his head regretfully.

"Leopold, I fear, did not cover himself with glory," he remarked sadly.

The Countess was looking at him with most flattering attention.

"Your arm!" she exclaimed. "It is all tied up! Was it you then—"

Jimmy made her a mock bow.

"I'm so glad I've got a cultured English voice," he said. "And I can assure you that I wouldn't have dreamed of using the language I did if I had had any suspicion that a lady was present."

"I did not understand all of it," the Countess hastened to explain. "Although I had an English governess when I was young—"

"It isn't the sort of thing she'd be likely to teach you," agreed Jimmy. "Kept you busy with your uncle's pen, and the umbrella of the gardener's niece. I know the sort of stuff."

"But what has happened?" asked the Countess. "That is what I want to know. I demand to know what has happened."

There was a moment's silence whilst everybody looked at Superintendent Battle.

"It's very simple," said Battle mildly. "Attempted robbery. Some political papers stolen from Sir Stanley Digby. The thieves nearly got away with them, but thanks to this young lady"—he indicated Loraine—"they didn't."

The Countess flashed a glance at the girl—rather an odd glance.

"Indeed," she said coldly.