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Page 10
"In no way," replied Deeping earnestly. "Mr. Ahmadeen is, I
believe, a person of some consequence in the Moslem world; but I
have nothing to fear from him."
"What steps have you taken to protect yourself?"
Again the short laugh reached my ears.
"I'm afraid long residence in the East has rendered me something of
a fatalist, Cavanagh! Beyond keeping my door locked, I have taken
no steps whatever. I fear I am quite accessible!"
A while longer we talked; and with every word the conviction was
more strongly borne in upon me that some uncanny menace threatened
the peace, perhaps the life, of Professor Deeping.
I had hung up the receiver scarce a moment when, acting upon a
sudden determination, I called up New Scotland Yard, and asked for
Detective-Inspector Bristol, whom I knew well. A few words were
sufficient keenly to arouse his curiosity, and he announced his
intention of calling upon me immediately. He was in charge of the
case of the severed hand.
I made no attempt to resume work in the interval preceding his
arrival. I had not long to wait, however, ere Bristol was ringing
my bell; and I hurried to the door, only too glad to confide in one
so well equipped to analyze my doubts and fears. For Bristol is no
ordinary policeman, but a trained observer, who, when I first made
his acquaintance, completely upset my ideas upon the mental
limitations of the official detective force.
In appearance Bristol suggests an Anglo-Indian officer, and at the
time of which I write he had recently returned from Jamaica and his
face was as bronzed as a sailor's. One would never take Bristol
for a detective. As he seated himself in the armchair, without
preamble I plunged into my story. He listened gravely.
"What sort of house is Professor Deeping's?" he asked suddenly.
"I have no idea," I replied, "beyond the fact that it is somewhere
in Dulwich."
"May I use your telephone?"
"Certainly."
Very quickly Bristol got into communication with the superintendent
of P Division. A brief delay, and the man came to the telephone
whose beat included the road wherein Professor Deeping's house was
situated.
"Why!" said Bristol, hanging up the receiver after making a number
of inquiries, "it's a sort of rambling cottage in extensive grounds.
There's only one servant, a manservant, and he sleeps in a detached
lodge. If the Professor is really in danger of attack he could not
well have chosen a more likely residence for the purpose!"
"What shall you do? What do you make of it all?"
"As I see the case," he said slowly, "it stands something like this:
Professor Deeping has . . . "
The telephone bell began to ring.
I took up the receiver.
"Hullo! Hullo."
"Cavanagh!--is that Cavanagh?"
"Yes! yes! who is that?"
"Deeping! I have rung up the police, and they are sending some
one. But I wish . . . "
His voice trailed off. The sound of a confused and singular uproar
came to me.
"Hullo!" I cried. "Hullo!"
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