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Page 86
'Respecting the character of the oil employed, however, I am in
no doubt, and I actually possess a dried specimen of the flower
from which it is expressed. This is poetically known among the
Mangars, one of the fighting tribes of Nepal, as the Bloom or
Orchid of Sleep.
'It is found upon the lower Himalayan slopes, and bears a close
resemblance to the white odontoglossum of commerce, except that
the flower is much smaller. Its perfume attracts insects and
sometimes small animals and reptiles, although inhalation seems
to induce instant death. It may be detected in its natural state
by the presence of hundreds of dead flies and insects upon the
ground surrounding the plant. It is especially fatal to nocturnal
insects, its perfume being stronger at night.
'Preparation of the oil is an art peculiar to members of an
obscure sect established in that district, by whom it is said to
be employed for the removal of enemies.
'An article is sprinkled with it, and whilst the perfume, which
is reported to resemble that of cloves, remains perceptible, to
inhale it results in immediate syncope, although by what
physiological process I have never been enabled to determine.
'With the one exception which I have mentioned, during my stay in
Nepal and the surrounding districts I failed to obtain a specimen
of this orchid. I have twice seen the curious purple stain upon
articles of clothing worn by natives who had died suddenly and
mysteriously. The Mangars simply say, "He has offended someone.
It is the flower of sleep."
'I immediately recognized the colour of the stains upon the
enclosed serviette, and also the curious crystalline formation on
their surface. The identity of the "someone" to whom the Mangars
refer, I never established. I shall welcome any particulars
respecting the history of the serviette.
'Very truly yours,
'WARWICK GREY.'
"Sir Charles Abingdon was poisoned," said Wessex in a hushed
voice. "For the girl's sake I hate the idea, but we shall have to
get an exhumation order."
"It is impossible," returned Innes, shortly. "He was cremated."
"Good heavens," murmured Wessex, "I never knew."
"But after all," continued Inures, "it is just as well for
everyone concerned. The known facts are sufficient to establish
the murder, together with the report of Dr. Warwick Grey. But,
meanwhile, are we any nearer to learning the identity of the
murderer?"
"We are not!" said Wessex, grimly. "And what's more, when I get
to Scotland Yard, I have got to face the music. First Mr. Harley
goes, and now Nicol Brinn has disappeared!"
"It's almost unbelievable!"
"I took him for a white man," said the detective, earnestly. "I
accepted his parole for twenty-four hours. The twenty-four hours
expired about noon to-day, but since he played that trick on
Stokes last night and went out of his chambers, he has vanished
utterly."
Innes stood up excitedly.
"Your ideas may be all wrong, Wessex!" he cried. "Don't you see
that he may have gone the same way as the chief?"
"He was mightily anxious to get out, at any rate."
"And you have no idea where he went?"
"Not the slightest. Following his performance of last night, of
course I was compelled to instal a man in the chambers, and this
morning someone rang up from the house of Lord Wolverham; he is
commanding officer of one of the Guards battalions, I believe. It
appears that Mr. Nicol Brinn not only locked up a representative
of the Criminal Investigation Department, but also stole a Rolls
Royce car from outside the Cavalry Club!"
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