XXXIV
Blackmailing a Government
When they reached London the evening newspapers were filled with the new sensation.
The Crimson Circle had indeed decided upon an ambitious programme.
Briefly the story, as related in an official communique to the Press, was as follows:
That morning every member of the Government had received a typewritten document, bearing no address and no other indication of its origin save a Crimson Circle stamped on every page. The document ran:
Every effort of your police, both official and private, the genius of Mr. Derrick Yale, and the plodding efforts of Chief Inspector Parr, have failed to check Our activity. The full story of Our success is not known. It has been unfortunately Our unpleasant duty to remove a number of people from life, not so much in a spirit of vengeance, as to serve as a salutary warning to others, and only this morning it has been Our unhappy duty to remove Mr. Samuel Heggitt, a lawyer, who was engaged by the late Harvey Froyant on particular work, in the course of which he came unpleasantly close to Our identity.
Fortunately for the other members of his firm, he undertook that task personally. His body will be found by the side of the railway between Brixton and Marsden.
Since the police are unable to hold Us, and since We are in complete agreement with those in authority who say that We are the most dangerous menace to society that exists, We have agreed to forego Our activities on condition that the sum of a million pounds sterling is placed at Our disposal. The method by which this money shall be transferred will be detailed later. This must be accompanied by a free pardon in blank, so that We may, if occasion necessitates, or hereinafter Our identity is disclosed, avail Ourselves of that document.
Refusal to agree to Our terms will have unpleasant consequences. We name hereunder twelve eminent Parliamentarians, who must stand as hostages for the fulfilment of Our desire. If, at the end of the week, the Government have not agreed to Our terms, one of these gentlemen will be removed.
The first person that Parr met on his arrival at Whitehall was Derrick Yale, and for once the famous detective looked worried.
“I was afraid of this development,” he said, “and the queer thing is that it has come at a moment when I thought I was in a position to lay my hand on the chief offender.”
He took Parr’s hand in his, and walked him along the gloomy corridor.
“This spoils my day’s fishing,” he said, and Inspector Parr remembered.
“Of course, today is the day you die! But I suppose you are reprieved under the general amnesty which the Crimson Circle have issued,” he said drily, and his companion laughed.
“I want to tell you, before we go into this meeting, that I am willing to place myself unreservedly at your disposal,” he said quietly. “I think you ought to know, Parr, that the present wishes of the Cabinet are to give me an official status and place the whole of the investigations in my charge. I have been sounded on the matter, and have given them point-blank refusal. I am convinced that you are the best man for the job, and I will serve under no other chief.”
“Thank you,” said Parr simply. “Perhaps the Cabinet will take another view.”
The Cabinet meeting was held in the Secretary of State’s office; all the recipients of the Crimson Circle’s memo were present from the beginning, but it was some time before outsiders were called in.
Yale was summoned first, and a quarter of an hour later the messenger beckoned the inspector.
Inspector Parr knew most of the illustrious gathering by sight, and being on the opposite side in politics, had no particular respect for any. He felt an air of hostility as he came into the big room, and the chilly nod which the white-bearded Prime Minister gave him in response to his bow, confirmed this impression.
“Mr. Parr,” said the Prime Minister icily, “we are discussing the question of the Crimson Circle, which, as you must realise, has become almost a national problem. Their dangerous character has been emphasised by a memorandum which has been addressed to the various members of the Cabinet by this infamous association, and which, I have no doubt, you have read in the newspapers.”
“Yes, sir,” said the inspector.
“I will not disguise from you the fact that we are profoundly dissatisfied with the course which your investigations have taken. Although you have had every facility and every power granted you, including,” he consulted a paper before him, but Parr interrupted him.
“I should not like you to tell the meeting what powers I have received, Prime Minister,” he said firmly, “or what particular privileges have been granted me by the Secretary of State.”
The Prime Minister was taken aback.
“Very well,” he said. “I will add that, although you have had extraordinary privileges, and opportunities, and you have even been present when the outrages have taken place, you have not succeeded in bringing the criminal to justice.”
The inspector nodded.
“It was our original wish to place the matter in the hands of Mr. Derrick Yale, who has been especially successful in tracing two of the murderers, without, however, being able to bring the prime culprit to justice. Mr. Yale, however, refuses to accept the commission unless you are in control. He has kindly expressed his willingness to serve under you, and in this course we are agreed. I understand that your resignation is already before the Commissioners, and that it has been formally accepted. That acceptance, for the time being, is reserved. Now remember, Mr. Parr,” the Prime Minister leant forward and spoke very earnestly and emphatically: “It is absolutely impossible that we can accede to the Crimson Circle’s demands: such a course would be the negation of all law, and the surrender of all authority. We rely upon you to afford to every member of the Government who is threatened, that protection which is his right as a citizen. Your whole career is in the balance.”
The inspector, thus dismissed, rose slowly.
“If the Crimson Circle keeps its word,” he said, “I guarantee that not a hair of one member of your Government shall be harmed in London. Whether I can capture the man who describes himself as the Crimson Circle, remains to be seen.”
“I suppose,” said the Prime Minister, “there is no doubt that this unfortunate man, Heggitt, has been killed.”
It was Derrick Yale who answered.
“No, sir; the body was found early this morning. Mr. Heggitt, who lives at Marsden, left London last night by train, and apparently the crime was committed en route.”
“It is deplorable, deplorable.” The Prime Minister shook his head. “A terrible orgy of murder and crime, and it seems that we are not at the end of it yet.”
When they came out into Whitehall, Yale and his companion found that a large crowd had gathered, for news had leaked out that a meeting was being held to discuss this new and extraordinary problem which confronted the Government.
Yale, who was recognised, was cheered, but Inspector Parr passed unnoticed through the crowd—to his intense relief.
Undoubtedly the Crimson Circle was the sensation of the hour. Some of the evening newspaper placards bore a crimson circle in imitation of the famous insignia of the gang, and wherever men met, there the possibility of the Circle carrying their threat into effect was discussed.
Thalia Drummond looked up as her employer came in. The evening newspaper was in front of her, and her chin rested on her clasped hands, and she read every line, word by word.
Derrick noticed the interest, and observed, too, her momentary confusion as she folded the paper and put it away.
“Well, Miss Drummond, what do you think of their last exploit?”
“It is colossal,” she said. “In some respects, admirable.”
He looked at her gravely.
“I confess I can see little to admire,” he said. “You take rather a queer, twisted view of things.”
“Don’t I?” she said coolly. “You must never forget, Mr. Yale, that I have a queer, twisted mind.”
He paused at the door of his room and looked back at her, a long, keen scrutiny, which she met without so much as an eyelid quivering.
“I think you should be very grateful that Mr. Johnson, of Mildred Street, no longer receives your interesting communications,” he said, and she was silent.
He came out again soon after.
“I am probably going to establish my offices at police headquarters,” he said, “and realising that that atmosphere is one in which you will not flourish, I am leaving you here in control of my ordinary business.”
“Are you accepting the responsibility for capturing the Crimson Circle?” she asked steadily.
He shook his head.
“Inspector Parr is in control,” he said, “but I am going to help him.”
He made no further reference to his new task, and the rest of the morning was spent in routine work. He went out to lunch and said he would not be back that day, giving her instructions regarding letters he wished despatched.
He had hardly gone before his telephone bell went, and at the sound of the voice at the other end, she nearly dropped the receiver.
“Yes, it is I,” she said. “Good morning, Mr. Beardmore.”
“Is Yale there?” asked Jack.
“He has just gone out: he will not be back today. If there is anything important to tell him, I may be able to find him,” she said, steadying her voice with an effort.
“I don’t know whether it’s important or not,” said Jack, “but I was going through my father’s papers this morning, a very disagreeable job, by the way, and I found a whole bunch of papers relating to Marl.”
“To Marl?” she said slowly.
“Yes, apparently poor Dad knew a great deal more about Marl than we imagined. He had been in prison: did you know that?”
“I could have guessed it,” said Thalia.
“Father always put through an inquiry about people before he did business with them,” Jack went on, “and apparently there is a lot of explanation about Marl’s early life, collected by a French agency. He seems to have been a pretty bad lot, and I wonder the governor had dealings with him. One curious document is an envelope which is marked ‘Photograph of Execution’: it was sealed up by the French people, and apparently the governor didn’t open it. He hated gruesome things of that kind.”
“Have you opened it?” she asked quickly.
“No,” he answered in a tone of surprise. “Why do you jump at me like that?”
“Will you do me a favour, Jack?”
It was the first time she had ever called him by name, and she could almost see him redden.
“Why—why, of course, Thalia, I’d do anything for you,” he said eagerly.
“Don’t open the envelope,” she said intensely. “Keep all the papers relating to Marl in a safe place. Will you promise that?”
“I promise,” he said. “What a queer request to make!”
“Have you told anybody about it?” she asked.
“I sent a note to Inspector Parr.”
He heard her exclamation of annoyance.
“Will you promise me not to tell anybody, especially about the photograph?”
“Of course, Thalia,” he answered. “I’ll send it along to you, if you like.”
“No, no, don’t do that,” she said, then abruptly she finished the conversation.
She sat for a few minutes breathing quickly, and then she rose, and putting on her hat, she locked up the office, and went to lunch.