The Seven Dials Mystery

It was ten o'clock on the following morning. The sun poured in through the windows of the library, where Superintendent Battle had been at work since six. On a summons from him, George Lomax, Sir Oswald Coote and Jimmy Thesiger had just joined him, having repaired the fatigues of the night with a substantial breakfast. Jimmy's arm was in a sling, but he bore little other trace of the night's affray.

The Superintendent eyed all three of them benevolently, somewhat with the air of a kindly curator explaining a museum to little boys. On the table beside him were various objects, neatly labelled. Amongst them Jimmy recognized Leopold.

"Ah, Superintendent," said George, "I have been anxious to know how you have progressed. Have you caught the man?"

"He'll take a lot of catching, he will," said the Superintendent easily.

His failure in that respect did not appear to rankle with him.

George Lomax did not look particularly well pleased. He detested levity of any kind.

"I've got everything taped out pretty clearly," went on the detective.

He took up two objects from the table.

"Here we've got the two bullets. The largest is a .455, fired from Mr. Thesiger's Colt automatic. Grazed the window sash and I found it embedded in the trunk of that cedar tree. This little fellow was fired from the Mauser .25. After passing through Mr. Thesiger's arm, it embedded itself in this arm-chair here. As for the pistol itself—"

"Well?" said Sir Oswald eagerly. "Any fingerprints?"

Battle shook his head.

"The man who handled it wore gloves," he said slowly.

"A pity," said Sir Oswald.

"A man who knew his business would wear gloves. Am I right in thinking, Sir Oswald, that you found this pistol just about twenty yards from the bottom of the steps leading up to the terrace?"

Sir Oswald stepped to the window.

"Yes, almost exactly, I should say."

"I don't want to find fault, but it would have been wiser on your part, sir, to leave it exactly as you found it."

"I am sorry," said Sir Oswald stiffly.

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I've been able to reconstruct things. There were your footprints, you see, leading up from the bottom of the garden, and a place where you had obviously stopped and stooped down, and a kind of dent in the grass which was highly suggestive. By the way, what was your theory of the pistol being there?"

"I presumed that it had been dropped by the man in his flight."

Battle shook his head.

"Not dropped, Sir Oswald. There are two points against that. To begin with, there is only one set of footprints crossing the lawn just there—your own."

"I see," said Sir Oswald thoughtfully.

"Can you be sure of that, Battle?" put in George.

"Quite sure, sir. There is one other set of tracks crossing the lawn, Miss Wade's, but they are a good deal farther to the left."

He paused, and then went on: "And there's the dent in the ground. The pistol must have struck the ground with some force. It all points to its having been thrown."

"Well, why not?" said Sir Oswald. "Say the man fled down the path to the left. He'd leave no footprints on the path and he'd hurl the pistol away from him into the middle of the lawn, eh, Lomax?"

George agreed by a nod of the head.

"It's true that he'd leave no footprints on the path," said Battle, "but from the shape of the dent and the way the turf was cut, I don't think the pistol was thrown from that direction. I think it was thrown from the terrace here."

"Very likely," said Sir Oswald. "Does it matter, Superintendent?"

"Ah, yes, Battle," broke in George. "Is it—er—strictly relevant?"

"Perhaps not, Mr. Lomax. But we like to get things just so, you know. I wonder now if one of you gentlemen would take this pistol and throw it. Will you, Sir Oswald? That's very kind. Stand just here in the window. Now fling it into the middle of the lawn."

Sir Oswald complied, sending the pistol flying through the air with a powerful sweep of his arm. Jimmy Thesiger drew near with breathless interest. The Superintendent lumbered off after it like a well-trained retriever. He reappeared with a beaming face.

"That's it, sir. Just the same kind of mark. Although, by the way, you sent it a good ten yards farther. But then, you're a very powerfully built man, aren't you, Sir Oswald? Excuse me, I thought I heard someone at the door."

The Superintendent's ears must have been very much sharper than anyone else's. Nobody else had heard a sound, but Battle was proved right, for Lady Coote stood outside, a medicine glass in her hand.

"Your medicine, Oswald," she said, advancing into the room. "You forgot it after breakfast."

"I'm very busy, Maria," said Sir Oswald. "I don't want my medicine."

"You would never take it if it wasn't for me," said his wife serenely, advancing upon him. "You're just like a naughty little boy. Drink it up now."

And meekly, obediently, the great steel magnate drank it up!

Lady Coote smiled sadly and sweetly at everyone.

"Am I interrupting you? Are you very busy? Oh, look at those revolvers. Nasty, noisy, murdering things. To think, Oswald, that you might have been shot by the burglar last night."

"You must have been alarmed when you found he was missing, Lady Coote," said Battle.

"I didn't think of it at first," confessed Lady Coote. "This poor boy here"—she indicated Jimmy—"being shot—and everything so dreadful, but so exciting. It wasn't till Mr. Bateman asked me where Sir Oswald was that I remembered he'd gone out half an hour before for a stroll."

"Sleepless, eh, Sir Oswald?" asked Battle.

"I am usually an excellent sleeper," said Sir Oswald. "But I must confess that last night I felt unusually restless. I thought the night air would do me good."

"You came out through this window, I suppose?"

Was it his fancy, or did Sir Oswald hesitate for a moment before replying.

"Yes."

"In your pumps too," said Lady Coote, "instead of putting thick shoes on. What would you do without me to look after you?"

She shook her head sadly.

"I think, Maria, if you don't mind leaving us—we have still a lot to discuss."

"I know, dear, I'm just going."