Grey Face/Chapter 25
CHAPTER XXV
OFFICIAL MEASURES
I GATHER, then"—Sir John Nevinson stared through his monocle at Inspector Whiteleaf—"that there is no evidence of foul play?"
"Absolutely none," the Inspector replied. "She was the wife of a man named Len Yung—a Chinese deck-hand. His ship is due at Singapore to-morrow, but I don't suppose he will be able to throw any light upon the matter. She was half-caste, a Welsh mother and a Chinese father. Perfectly respectable, so far as I can gather, and with no family. As you will see, sir, it is suggested that her death may have been caused by some intense shock. The condition of the brain, I believe, is abnormal. But, of course, this takes me rather out of my depth."
"Of course," Sir John murmured, turning aside, closing his left eye, and glancing down at a typewritten report on blue paper which lay upon his table. "There seems to be very little point in endeavouring to trace the man who last saw her alive."
Inspector Whiteleaf coughed discreetly, and:
"Respecting that, sir," he said, "I am just a little mystified. Of course, I realize that this case is unusual, or you would not be dealing with it personally, but it is really very difficult, sir, to act upon advice of this kind."
He pulled out a notebook, opened it, and read:
"'A. traced a man from a certain house in Mayfair. The man's description is as follows':—Then I have a description which sounds like that of an ape. 'A. has reason to believe that this man was with the woman at the time immediately preceding her death. A. entered the house just before the woman died, and without fully recovering consciousness she whispered the words Grey Face.'"
Inspector Whiteleaf closed the book and returned it to his pocket. Sir John Nevinson had listened patiently, regarding the speaker in his own peculiarly fierce fashion.
"Now, sir," the Inspector continued, "it is scarcely reasonable to ask me to trace this man. 'A certain house in Mayfair' wants a bit of finding. But the woman's last words are highly important."
"Indeed!" said Sir John, sitting very upright. "In what way, Inspector?"
"In this way, sir. 'Grey face,' whatever 'Grey face' may be, is a kind of popular nightmare in the Limehouse district. Oh, I can't say much, sir, but I've got men at work. All I have been able to gather so far is that 'Grey face' is a sort of bogey in those parts. You might say that Limehouse is haunted by 'Grey face.' I have picked it up in several quarters."
"You interest me," the Commissioner declared. "But I don't quite follow you. What have you picked up?"
Inspector Whiteleaf smiled in a slightly embarrassed way; then:
"Just this, sir," he replied. "You have been out East, and so have I. Well, you know how a sudden superstition will creep through a whole native quarter. All you can gather about it is just a word or a couple of words, but to mention it is enough to make any native tremble. It's unaccountable—I've seen it myself, in India. Well, something of the sort has happened in Limehouse. 'Grey face' is a big scare down there just now. For what it stands, I haven't been able to find out; but I will later, if it's humanly possible."
"I am sure you will, Inspector," said the Commissioner. "I have every confidence in your zeal. Indeed"—he adjusted his monocle—"the purpose of this present interview is to entrust to you the practical conduct of a tremendously difficult case. It has hitherto been dealt with by two distinct departments. It is so complex, and so extensive, that it seems to concern the Special Branch as much as your own. However, I believe in centralized control. It has always been my policy. I had marked you, myself, as an efficient officer, and my opinion has recently been confirmed by an independent observer."
Detective Inspector Whiteleaf tingled to his very finger tips. He was being permitted a glimpse of the usually inscrutable mind of the great Chief. He recognized the influence of Douglas Carey, that mysterious Unknown, and was duly grateful. Also, knowing Sir John, he recognized that complete ruin or rapid promotion to the rank of Superintendent lay in his immediate future.
He was about to be given "special powers"—and the history of officers so selected was not a wholly glorious one. It meant that, in regard to this particular case, men senior to himself would be superseded; it meant jealousy, and, if not absolute opposition, at best half- hearted coöperation. He was about to be put upon his mettle.
"You will find in this envelope," the Commissioner continued, "reports of various officers upon matters seemingly having no connection one with another. For instance, you will find details of the recent Hatton Garden diamond robbery. You will find particulars relating to the loss of a despatch by the Hon. Ewart Stephens, together with some facts relating to a political theft from the house of Lord Brankforth. Finally, the envelope contains a report by Mr. Douglas Carey, which I desire you to read most carefully. He, as well as the officers of various departments concerned, will be entirely at your service from now onward. I have given instructions to this effect, and you are relieved of your ordinary duties."
"Thank you, sir," said Inspector Whiteleaf. "I am very grateful to you. I shall do my best. And now, sir"—he cleared his throat—"do you wish to hear my report regarding the man Trepniak, or does that inquiry belong to the duties of which I have been relieved?"
Sir John shook his head emphatically.
"No," he replied, "according to Mr. Carey, it is part of the case." He tapped his finger upon the envelope of which he had spoken. "There is a note here on the subject; Mr. Carey will tell you more personally. Now what have you learned respecting this man's history?"
Inspector Whiteleaf once more took out his notebook, consulted it, and:
"Very little, I am afraid," he confessed. "His full name appears to be Anton de Trepniak. It sounds assumed to me, but I may be wrong. He is immensely wealthy and he describes himself as a Russian subject."
"One moment, Inspector," the Commissioner interrupted. "You have not approached this man personally, nor any member of his household?"
"Certainly not, sir. I had no instructions to do so. The information I have here has been obtained through the usual channels."
"Very good." Sir John lay back in his chair. "Carry on."
"Well," Whiteleaf continued, "I have traced his bank, or one of them, and enormous sums of money pass through his account."
"By whom are these sums paid in?" murmured the Commissioner.
"By a Paris bank."
"Then France is the source of his wealth?"
"Not at all," said the Inspector. "I have gone one step farther. Money is paid into his Paris account from Moscow. That baffled me, of course; we are out of touch with Moscow, as you know, sir. But it's a bit significant."
"Very significant," the Commissioner agreed. "In fact, it is highly important." He spoke almost excitedly. "This man is in London for some international purpose. I may as well tell you, now, that it was from the house of M. de Trepniak in Park Lane that the person whose description suggests an ape was traced to Limehouse. Mr. Carey is prepared to see you. Doubtless he will divulge the identity of the person described as A. in the note which you have. Next, Inspector, regarding Madame Sabinov: Your time has been very fully occupied; possibly you have had no leisure to devote to her?"
"Not very much, sir," the Inspector admitted; "but I have learned one or two things from the assistant I put on the job. I have had no opportunity of tracing her history, but she has left her house, of which the address was given me, and is now staying at an hotel. Shortly after her departure, I understand, a perfect army of workmen took possession and the house has been entirely dismantled."
"Really!" the Commissioner murmured. "Of course, you have had no time to learn in whose name it was leased?"
"Not yet, sir; but I expect a report on the subject later to-day."
"Good," said Sir John. "Make all your reports directly to me. You may see me at any time."