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Page 63
"It's a fact," declared the detective sergeant. "If it isn't
troubling you too much, I should like to know that lady's name.
Also, I should like a chat with her before she leaves."
"Can't be done," declared Nicol Brinn. "She isn't here."
"Then where is she?"
"I couldn't say. She went some time ago."
Stokes stood squarely before Nicol Brinn--a big, menacing figure;
but he could not detect the slightest shadow of expression upon
the other's impassive features. He began to grow angry. He was of
that sanguine temperament which in anger acts hastily.
"Look here, sir," he said, and his dark face flushed. "You can't
play tricks on me. I've got my duty to do, and I am going to do
it. Ask your visitor to step in here, or I shall search the
premises."
Nicol Brinn replaced his cigar in the right corner of his mouth:
"Detective Sergeant Stokes, I give you my word that the lady to
whom you refer is no longer in these chambers."
Stokes glared at him angrily. "But there is no other way out," he
blustered.
"I shall not deal with this matter further," declared Brinn,
coldly. "I may have vices, but I never was a liar."
"Oh," muttered the detective sergeant, taken aback by the cold
incisiveness of the speaker. "Then perhaps you will lead the way,
as I should like to take a look around."
Nicol Brinn spread his feet more widely upon the hearthrug.
"Detective Sergeant Stokes," he said, "you are not playing the
game. Inspector Wessex passed his word to me that for twenty-four
hours my movements should not be questioned or interfered with.
How is it that I find you here?"
Stokes thrust his hands in his pockets and coughed uneasily. "I
am not a machine," he replied; "and I do my own job in my own
way."
"I doubt if Inspector Wessex would approve of your way."
"That's my business."
"Maybe, but it is no affair of yours to interfere with private
affairs of mine, Detective Sergeant. See here, there is no lady
in these chambers. Secondly, I have an appointment at nine
o'clock, and you are detaining me."
"What's more," answered Stokes, who had now quite lost his
temper, "I intend to go on detaining you until I have searched
these chambers and searched them thoroughly."
Nicol Brinn glanced at his watch. "If I leave in five minutes,
I'll be in good time," he said. "Follow me."
Crossing to the centre section of a massive bookcase, he opened
it, and it proved to be a door. So cunning was the design that
the closest scrutiny must have failed to detect any difference
between the dummy books with which it was decorated, and the
authentic works which filled the shelves to right and to left of
it. Within was a small and cosy study. In contrast with the
museum-like room out of which it opened, it was furnished in a
severely simple fashion, and one more experienced in the study of
complex humanity than Detective Sergeant Stokes must have
perceived that here the real Nicol Brinn spent his leisure hours.
Above the mantel was a life-sized oil painting of Mrs. Nicolas
Brinn; and whereas the great room overlooking Piccadilly was
exotic to a degree, the atmosphere of the study was markedly
American.
Palpably there was no one there. Nor did the two bedrooms, the
kitchen, and the lobby afford any more satisfactory evidence.
Nicol Brinn led the way back from the lobby, through the small
study, and into the famous room where the Egyptian priestess
smiled eternally. He resumed his place upon the hearthrug.
"Are you satisfied, Detective Sergeant?"
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