Battle, Superintendent (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Police -- England -- Fiction
“There are always unscrupulous tools to be got hold of,” said
Isaacstein quietly. “For the moment, Wall Street wins. But they’ve not
done with me yet. Find out who killed Prince Michael, Superintendent
Battle, if you want to do your country a service.”
“One thing strikes me as highly suspicious,” put in George. “Why did
the equerry, Captain Andrassy, not come down with the Prince yesterday?”
“I’ve inquired into that,” said Battle. “It’s perfectly simple. He
stayed in town to make arrangements with a certain lady, on behalf of
Prince Michael, for next week-end. The Baron rather frowned on such
things, thinking them injudicious at the present stage of affairs, so
His Highness had to go about them in a hole and corner manner. He was,
if I may say so, inclined to be a rather—er—dissipated young man.”
“I’m afraid so,” said George ponderously. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“There’s one other point we ought to take into account, I think,” said
Battle, speaking with a certain amount of hesitation. “King Victor’s
supposed to be in England.”
“King Victor?”
Lomax frowned in an effort at recollection.
“Notorious French crook, sir. We’ve had a warning from the Sûreté in
Paris.”
“Of course,” said George. “I remember now. Jewel thief, isn’t he? Why,
that’s the man——”
He broke off abruptly. Isaacstein, who had been frowning abstractedly
at the fireplace, looked up just too late to catch the warning glance
telegraphed from Superintendent Battle to the other. But being a man
sensitive to vibrations in the atmosphere, he was conscious of a sense
of strain.
“You don’t want me any longer, do you, Lomax?” he inquired.
“No, thank you, my dear fellow.”
“Would it upset your plans if I returned to London, Superintendent
Battle?”
“I’m afraid so, sir,” said the Superintendent civilly. “You see, if you
go, there will be others who’ll want to go also. And that would never
do.”
“Quite so.”
The great financier left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Splendid fellow, Isaacstein,” murmured George Lomax perfunctorily.
“Very powerful personality,” agreed Superintendent Battle.
George began to pace up and down again.
“What you say disturbs me greatly,” he began. “King Victor! I thought
he was in prison?”
“Came out a few months ago. French police meant to keep on his heels,
but he managed to give them the slip straight away. He would too. One
of the coolest customers that ever lived. For some reason or other,
they believe he’s in England, and have notified us to that effect.”
“But what should he be doing in England?”
“That’s for you to say, sir,” said Battle significantly.
“You mean——? You think——? You know the story, of course—ah, yes,
I can see you do. I was not in office, of course, at the time, but I
heard the whole story from the late Lord Caterham. An unparalleled
catastrophe.”
“The Koh-i-noor,” said Battle reflectively.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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