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Synopsis of Preceding Chapltr$
Mr. Phlllipt, an artist , Informed by Inspector
Peace of the mysterious death of a sculptor,
consents to try and Identify the victim, whom he
finds to be Amaroff, a Pole.
Later he goes to Amaroff' studio and finds
Inspector Peace In conversation with Mr. Nicolin,
head of the Russian Service in London. There
are two men replacing some papers In a desk
One, unseen by the rest of the party, takes an
Impression of a key
Mr. Phillips Is Invited by the Inspector to join
him In making further Inquiries. They met,
Serjeant Jackson, who hands the Inspector the
address of a club where Amaroff Is said to have
called often to see Creatman, the proprietor, and
Inform him that Creatman 's private room has a
sanded floor Amaroff was said to have been
killed in a room with a sanded floor and removed
on a coster's barrow.
We were drawing nearer to our game;
the scent was growing stronger. Ad
dington Pence leant a little forward,
with a twist in his jaw that mined
a ripple of mum-lea under the skin.
"Continue, if you please," he Haiti.
"The room is at the rear of the
club, and there in a bark staircase
to the yard behind, where costers
store their barrows when not m use.
It fits in with what you told us to
inquire for, don't it, sir?"
"Yes."
The inspector's stick recommenced
its interlacing circles on the floor;
and we Bat and watched, as if thereby
ho were disentangling his sordid story.
So still were we all that the bartender
poked his luminous nose from his
cage in the hope that we had gone.
Ho withdrew it with remarks on tho
police force which were distinctly
audible, und opposed to tho compli
mentary. Suddenly the inspector
turned to mc with a motion of half
apology, as if at the neglect of a guest.
"Tin-re are times, Mr. Phillips,"
ho eaid, "when evidence runs in absurd
contradictions. Observe the present
case, in which you are no good as to
interest yourself. We have it from the
Russian police that Amaroff is their
man, and that in their opinion they
being well qualified to judge ho
was murdered by Nihilists. We now
learn that he was apparently on inti
mato terms with Nihilists, and we have
gooil reason to believe that he was
strangled in one of their clubs. What
do you gather from that?"
"They discovered his treachery, and
took an excusable revenge," said 1.
"A Hound conclusion. And now let
us suppose that Amaroff was not a police
spy at all; being, in fact, a dangerous
Nihilist. What then?"
"Why set yourself such a puzzle?"
"Not for amusement," ho said, with
his quiet smile. "And now I propose
a little experiment. You must intro
duce us to this club. Jackson, the
door-keeper will know you, and pass
us in. Afterwards you will go to the
back entrance in the yard you spoke
of, ami wait. It should be easy to
conceal yourself."
"Yes, sir. Am I to tit op Creatman
if he conies out?"
"No. Stop nobody. We had better
be going."
ID.
id;
The square lay desolate and lonely
in the bleak moonlight. We crossed
it, and stopped at a house in the
shadows of the farther side. At our
knock a slide flew back, and, in the
gush of light, a hairy face examined
us curiously.
"Vat is ct?" ho eaid.
The serjeant stepped forward and
whispered. Tho man was sufficiently
satisfied, for ho dropped the slide at
once, and the door swung back to ad
mit us; the hairy-faced porter bowing
a welcome in polite submission. The
inspector led the way up the stairs, and
I followed at his heels. The Serjeant
had disappeared.
It was a broad, low room in which
wo found ourselves, the rafters of the
roof unhidden by the plaster of a ceil
ing. Hound the walls on benches
ranged behind tables a dozen men sat
smoking and drinking. The chatter
of talk faded away as we entered. In
silence they stared at us, calmly, judi
ciously, without fear or curiosity.
I could not have imagined a more
composed and resolute company. I
felt that I carried myself awkwardly,
as an impertinent intruder should; but
the inspector sauntered across tho
room to a bar on the further side as
calmly as if he were the oldest and
most valued member in the club.
A pale-faced man with a stained and
yellow beard rose from his Beat behind
tho glasses. His eyes were fixed on
Peace with a weak, pathetic expres
sion like a dog in pain.
"Good evening, Mr. Creatman,"
said the inspector. "Can I have a word
with you?"
"Yes, sir, if you will kindly step
into my private room," he answered
in excellent English, opening a hatch
in tho bar. "This is tho way, sir, if
you will follow me."
We walked after him down a short
passage and stopped before the dark
ness of an open door. A spurt of a
match and the gas jet flared upon a
bare chamber, hung with a gaudy paper
and furnished with half a dozen wooden
chairs set round a deal table in the
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center. In place of a carpet, our feet
grated upon a smooth sprinkling of
that grey sand which may still be
found in old-fashioned inns. It was
hero then, if the detectives were not
mistaken, that this crime had found
a climax, this sordid murder not thirty
hours old.
"If you would like a fire, gentlemen,"
suggested Creatman. "1 can easily
fetch some coals."
"Pray do not trouble yourself,"
said the inspector, politely. "My
name is Peace, of tho Criminal Inves
tigation Department, and I called to
inquire if you can tell me anything
concerning the murder of the sculptor,
Amaroff."
"I know nothing."
"That is strange, seeing that he
was strangled in this very room."
"Here?" cried the Pole, with a stare
of unbelief changing into sudden ter
ror. "Here in my room."
"So I believe," said Peace.
The man swayed for an instant,
grasping at the back of a chair, and
then dropped to tho ground, moaning,
his fare covered with his hands. In
that crouching figure before us was
written the extremity of despair. ,
"Come, come, Creatman, pull your
self together," said the inspector, tap
ping him kindly on the shoulder. "If
you are innocent, there is no need to
make all this fuss."
"It was Nicolin who lied to me," he
cried, looking up with bewildered eyes.
"Very probably," said Peace, "it
is a habit with him."
"Yet it was I, miserable that I am
who made tho meeting between them.
Before Heaven, it was with the inno
cence of a child. If those my com
rades of the club but knew "
He hesitated, his eyes searching the
room in sudden terror.
"Oblige mo by seeing that we have
no comrades already at the keyhole.
Mr. Phillips," eaid Peace.
There was no one at the door; no
one in the dark passage; and when I
returned 1 found that Peace had lifted
the caretaker to a chair, where ho sat
in a crumpled heap.
"You can trust us," the detective
was saying. "Believe me, Creatman,
it will be best for yourself that you
hide nothing."
And so with many fierce cries and
Crotestations, this poor creature began
is story.
It was Nicolin, it seemed, who had
discovered that Creatman, the care
taker of tte Brutus Club, was one and
the same with the forger Ivan Kroll,
of Odessa, who had been wanted by the
Russian police for close upon twelve
years. But having a shrewd head on
his shoulders, Nicolin made no imme
diate use of his knowledge. For forgery
a man might bo extradited from Eng
land. Once in Russia the charge would
be altered to nihilism, and then
Siberia. It was not pleasant for the
caretaker of a nihilist club to bo at
the mercy of a black-bearded spy
lounging on tho step outside. "It was
that which drove me to the brandy "
said poor Creatman, alias Kroll.
Continued on Page 7)
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