________________________________________________
_ T. X. came from Downing Street at 11 o'clock one night, and his
heart was filled with joy and gratitude.
He swung his stick to the common danger of the public, but the
policeman on point duty at the end of the street, who saw him,
recognized and saluted him, did not think it fit to issue any
official warning.
He ran up the stairs to his office, and found Mansus reading the
evening paper.
"My poor, dumb beast," said T. X. "I am afraid I have kept you
waiting for a very long time, but tomorrow you and I will take a
little journey to Devonshire. It will be good for you, Mansus -
where did you get that ridiculous name, by the way!"
"M. or N.," replied Mansus, laconically.
"I repeat that there is the dawn of an intellect in you," said T.
X., offensively.
He became more serious as he took from a pocket inside his
waistcoat a long blue envelope containing the paper which had cost
him so much to secure.
"Finding the revolver was a master-stroke of yours, Mansus," he
said, and he was in earnest as he spoke.
The man coloured with pleasure for the subordinates of T. X. loved
him, and a word of praise was almost equal to promotion. It was
on the advice of Mansus that the road from London to Lewes had
been carefully covered and such streams as passed beneath that
road had been searched.
The revolver had been found after the third attempt between
Gatwick and Horsley. Its identification was made easier by the
fact that Vassalaro's name was engraved on the butt. It was
rather an ornate affair and in its earlier days had been silver
plated; the handle was of mother-o'-pearl,
"Obviously the gift of one brigand to another," was T. X.'s
comment.
Armed with this, his task would have been fairly easy, but when to
this evidence he added a rough draft of the threatening letter
which he had found amongst Vassalaro's belongings, and which had
evidently been taken down at dictation, since some of the words
were misspelt and had been corrected by another hand, the case was
complete.
But what clinched the matter was the finding of a wad of that
peculiar chemical paper, a number of sheets of which T. X. had
ignited for the information of the Chief Commissioner and the Home
Secretary by simply exposing them for a few seconds to the light
of an electric lamp.
Instantly it had filled the Home Secretary's office with a pungent
and most disagreeable smoke, for which he was heartily cursed by
his superiors. But it had rounded off the argument.
He looked at his watch.
"I wonder if it is too late to see Mrs. Lexman," he said.
"I don't think any hour would be too late," suggested Mansus.
"You shall come and chaperon me," said his superior.
But a disappointment awaited. Mrs. Lexman was not in and neither
the ringing at her electric bell nor vigorous applications to the
knocker brought any response. The hall porter of the flats where
she lived was under the impression that Mrs. Lexman had gone out
of town. She frequently went out on Saturdays and returned on the
Monday and, he thought, occasionally on Tuesdays.
It happened that this particular night was a Monday night and T.
X. was faced with a dilemma. The night porter, who had only the
vaguest information on the subject, thought that the day porter
might know more, and aroused him from his sleep.
Yes, Mrs. Lexman had gone. She went on the Sunday, an unusual day
to pay a week-end visit, and she had taken with her two bags. The
porter ventured the opinion that she was rather excited, but when
asked to define the symptoms relapsed into a chaos of incoherent
"you-knows" and "what-I-means."
"I don't like this," said T. X.,suddenly. "Does anybody know that
we have made these discoveries?"
"Nobody outside the office," said Mansus, "unless, unless . . . "
"Unless what?" asked the other, irritably. "Don't be a jimp,
Mansus. Get it off your mind. What is it?"
"I am wondering," said Mansus slowly, "if the landlord at Great
James Street said anything. He knows we have made a search."
"We can easily find that out," said T. X.
They hailed a taxi and drove to Great James Street. That
respectable thoroughfare was wrapped in sleep and it was some time
before the landlord could be aroused. Recognizing T. X. he
checked his sarcasm, which he had prepared for a keyless lodger,
and led the way into the drawing room.
"You didn't tell me not to speak about it, Mr. Meredith," he said,
in an aggrieved tone, "and as a matter of fact I have spoken to
nobody except the gentleman who called the same day."
"What did he want?" asked T. X.
"He said he had only just discovered that Mr. Vassalaro had stayed
with me and he wanted to pay whatever rent was due," replied the
other.
"What like of man was he?" asked T. X.
The brief description the man gave sent a cold chill to the
Commissioner's heart.
"Kara for a ducat!" he said, and swore long and variously.
"Cadogan Square," he ordered.
His ring was answered promptly. Mr. Kara was out of town, had
indeed been out of town since Saturday. This much the man-servant
explained with a suspicious eye upon his visitors, remembering
that his predecessor had lost his job from a too confiding
friendliness with spurious electric fitters. He did not know when
Mr. Kara would return, perhaps it would be a long time and perhaps
a short time. He might come back that night or he might not.
"You are wasting your young life," said T. X. bitterly. "You
ought to be a fortune teller."
"This settles the matter," he said, in the cab on the way back.
"Find out the first train for Tavistock in the morning and wire
the George Hotel to have a car waiting."
"Why not go to-night?" suggested the other. "There is the
midnight train. It is rather slow, but it will get you there by
six or seven in the morning."
"Too late," he said, "unless you can invent a method of getting
from here to Paddington in about fifty seconds."
The morning journey to Devonshire was a dispiriting one despite
the fineness of the day. T. X. had an uncomfortable sense that
something distressing had happened. The run across the moor in
the fresh spring air revived him a little.
As they spun down to the valley of the Dart, Mansus touched his
arm.
"Look at that," he said, and pointed to the blue heavens where, a
mile above their heads, a white-winged aeroplane, looking no
larger than a very distant dragon fly, shimmered in the sunlight.
"By Jove!" said T. X. "What an excellent way for a man to escape!"
"It's about the only way," said Mansus.
The significance of the aeroplane was borne in upon T. X. a few
minutes later when he was held up by an armed guard. A glance at
his card was enough to pass him.
"What is the matter?" he asked.
"A prisoner has escaped," said the sentry.
"Escaped - by aeroplane?" asked T. X.
"I don't know anything about aeroplanes, sir. All I know is that
one of the working party got away."
The car came to the gates of the prison and T. X. sprang out,
followed by his assistant. He had no difficulty in finding the
Governor, a greatly perturbed man, for an escape is a very serious
matter.
The official was inclined to be brusque in his manner, but again
the magic card produced a soothing effect.
"I am rather rattled," said the Governor. "One of my men has got
away. I suppose you know that?"
"And I am afraid another of your men is going away, sir," said T.
X., who had a curious reverence for military authority. He
produced his paper and laid it on the governor's table.
"This is an order for the release of John Lexman, convicted under
sentence of fifteen years penal servitude."
The Governor looked at it.
"Dated last night," he said, and breathed a long sigh of relief.
"Thank the Lord! - that is the man who escaped!" _
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