The Golden Scorpion Read online

  CHAPTER IX

  THE CHINESE COIN

  Deep in reflection, Stuart walked alone along the Embankment. The fullfacts contained in the report form Paris the Commissioner had notdivulged, but Stuart concluded that this sudden activity was directlydue, not to the death of M. Max, but to the fact that he (Max) hadleft behind him some more or less tangible clue. Stuart fullyrecognized that the Commissioner had accorded him an opportunity toestablish his reputation--or to wreck it.

  Yet, upon closer consideration, it became apparent that it was to Fateand not to the Commissioner that he was indebted. Strictly speaking,his association with the matter dated from the night of his meetingwith the mysterious cabman in West India Dock Road. Or had thecurtain first been lifted upon this occult drama that evening, fiveyears ago, as the setting sun reddened the waters of the ImperialCanal and a veiled figure passed him on the Wu-Men Bridge?

  "Shut your eyes tightly, master--the Scorpion is coming!"

  He seemed to hear the boy's words now, as he passed along theEmbankment; he seemed to see again the tall figure. And suddenly hestopped, stood still and stared with unseeing eyes across the muddywaters of the Thames. He was thinking of the cowled man who had stoodbehind the curtains in his study--of that figure so wildly bizarrethat even now he could scarcely believe that he had ever actually seenit. He walked on.

  Automatically his reflections led him to Mlle. Dorian, and heremembered that even as he paced along there beside the river thewonderful mechanism of New Scotland Yard was in motion, its manytentacles seeking--seeking tirelessly--for the girl, whose dark eyeshaunted his sleeping and waking hours. _He_ was responsible, and ifshe were arrested _he_ would be called upon to identify her. Hecondemned himself bitterly.

  After all, what crime had she committed? She had tried to purloin aletter--which did not belong to Stuart in the first place. And she hadfailed. Now--the police were looking for her. His reflections took anew form.

  What of Gaston Max, foremost criminologist in Europe, who now lay deadand mutilated in an East-End mortuary? The telephone message which hadsummoned Dunbar away had been too opportune to be regarded as a merecoincidence. Mlle. Dorian was, therefore, an accomplice of a murderer.

  Stuart sighed. He would have given much--more than he was prepared toadmit to himself--to have known her to be guiltless.

  The identity of the missing cabman now engaged his mind. It was quitepossible, of course, that the man had actually found the envelope inhis cab and was in no other way concerned in the matter. But how hadMlle. Dorian, or the person instructing her, traced the envelope tohis study? And why, if they could establish a claim to it, had theypreferred to attempt to steal it? Finally, why all this disturbanceabout a blank pieced of cardboard?

  A mental picture of the envelope arose before him, the number, 30,written upon it and the two black seals securing the lapels. He pausedagain in his walk. His reflections had led him to a second definitepoint and he fumbled in his waistcoat pocket for a time, seeking acertain brass coin about the size of a halfpenny, having a squarehole in the middle and peculiar characters engraved around thesquare, one on each of the four sides.

  He failed to find the coin in his pocket, however, but he walkedbriskly up a side street until he came to the entrance to a tubestation. Entering a public telephone call-box, he asked for thenumber, City 400. Being put through and having deposited the necessaryfee in the box:

  "Is that the Commissioner's Office, New Scotland Yard?" he asked."Yes! My name is Dr. Keppel Stuart. If Inspector Dunbar is there,would you kindly allow me to speak to him."

  There was a short interval, then:

  "Hullo!" came--"is that Dr. Stuart?"

  "Yes. That you, Inspector? I have just remembered something which Ishould have observed in the first place if I had been really wide-awake.The envelope--you know the one I mean?--the one bearing the number,30, has been sealed with a Chinese coin, known as _cash._ I have justrecognized the fact and thought it wise to let you know at once."

  "Are you sure?" asked Dunbar.

  "Certain. If you care to call at my place later to-day I can show yousome _cash._ Bring the envelope with you and you will see that thecoins correspond to the impression in the wax. The inscriptions varyin different provinces, but the form of all _cash_ is the same."

  "Very good. Thanks for letting me know at once. It seems to establisha link with China, don't you think?"

  "It does, but it merely adds to the mystery."

  Coming out of the call-box, Stuart proceeded home, but made one or twoprofessional visits before he actually returned to the house. He nowremembered having left this particular _cash_ piece (which he usuallycarried) in his dispensary, which satisfactorily accounted fro hisfailure to find the coin in his waistcoat pocket. He had broken thecork of a flask, and in the absence of another of correct size hadmanufactured a temporary stopper with a small cork to the top of whichhe had fixed the Chinese coin with a drawing-pin. His purpose servedhe had left the extemporized stopper somewhere in the dispensary.

  Stuart's dispensary was merely a curtained recess at one end of thewaiting-room and shortly after entering the house he had occasion tovisit it. Lying upon a shelf among flasks and bottles was the Chinesecoin with the cork still attached. He took it up in order to studythe inscription. Then:

  "Have I cultivated somnambulism!" he muttered.

  Fragments of black sealing-wax adhered to the coin!

  Incredulous and half fearful he peered at it closely. He rememberedthat the impression upon the wax sealing the mysterious envelope hadhad a circular depression in the centre. It had been made by the headof the drawing-pin!

  He found himself at the shelf immediately above that upon which thecoin had lain. A stick of black sealing wax used for sealing medicinewas thrust in beside a bundle of long envelopes in which he wasaccustomed to post his Infirmary reports!

  One hand raised to his head, Stuart stood endeavouring to marshal hisideas into some sane order. Then, knowing what he should find, heraised the green baize curtain hanging from the lower shelf, whichconcealed a sort of cupboard containing miscellaneous stores and nota little rubbish, including a number of empty cardboard boxes.

  A rectangular strip had been roughly cut from the lid of the topmostbox!

  The mysterious envelope and its contents, the wax and the seal--allhad come from his own dispensary!