Jimmy Blake had known sympathy in his life, but he had never appreciated nor experienced the beautiful quality of tenderness which a woman can give to the sorely hurt. Delia's understanding was shown in a score of ways, even her silences had a soothing value. She had the gift of changing the direction of a conversation so that it was turned before the participants realized in what unhappy direction it had been heading. She was cheerful, in her sweet, quizzical way, and Jimmy had found himself challenged to flippant retort—on the day he had buried Gerald van Roon! She could give the whole of one day that week, she told him, to the examination of Gerald's papers.
“Do you remember what was in the Schaffer letter? You said that poor Mr. van Roon had read a portion of it to you.”
“The portion he read was in German. Poor old boy, he was very absent-minded—he even forgot that he had burned it!” smiled Jimmy. 'But he did tell me that Schaffer said something about Maggerson bringing back a queer plant from New Mexico, or Mexico, I'm not sure which.”
“What kind of plant?”
“It was a plant which established the connection between something or other,” said Jimmy vaguely. “Oh, yes, I remember—between the organic and the inorganic.”
“That is rather important, isn't it?” she said, interested. “Science has never discovered the link.”
“That's it! I joked the old fellow about it. I called it the 'missing link,' and he was absolutely sick with me!”
She bit her lip thoughtfully.
“I wonder if that had anything to do with it,” she said, speaking to herself.
“To do with Jerry's murder?” asked Jimmy astonished. “What on earth could that have to do with it?”
“He spoke about Schaffer's letter. I'm sure he knew what he was saying,” said the girl. “He recognized you and remembered that he had shown you the letter in the morning.”
“That is true,” said Jimmy, impressed.
“Why don't you see Mr. Maggerson and ask him?” she suggested.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he had seen Maggerson less than two hours before, but he stopped himself. He wanted to know something more about the Warden's Lodge, and he had already made up his mind to undertake a second vigil that night.
After Delia had gone to bed, he strolled out without telling Stephens where he was going, and took up his position near to the spot he had occupied the night before. This time he had brought a light waterproof sheet which he laid on the ground, for the grass had been wet the previous night. It was ten minutes after twelve when the first car appeared and the happenings of the previous night were repeated almost exactly. One man came after another, and Jimmy, lying full length on the ground, focused the night glasses he had brought with him upon each in turn without, however, discovering their identity. If only the moon would show!
At two o'clock he returned to the priory determined that the next night he would force a recognition. The plan that he roughly formed was that, as soon as a car appeared and he knew that the passenger was on his way to the lodge, he would walk to meet him, and on some excuse or other turn the beam of a hand lamp on his face. Know them he would, for it was impossible to avoid associating this unknown four with Van Roon's death.
But why had Jerry said nothing which would incriminate them? All his thoughts had been of Schaffer's letter. It was queer. As he was going to bed that night Jimmy had another idea, and the next morning drove the girl up to London and, dropping her in the city, went on to Whitehall.
Stope-Kendrick was not exactly a friend of his, but they had met at the prime minister's house and he did not think that the home secretary would refuse to see him. That worthy gentleman, however, had not arrived when Jimmy called, nor was he in his office until after midday when Jimmy presented his card for the third time and was ushered into a great and gloomy room where the little man sat behind a table which further dwarfed his stature.
He was looking very ill. There were deep shadows under his eyes and his face was a pasty white. His manner, however, was vigorous and almost cheerful.
“This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Blake. I was so sorry to hear of Van Roon's death. You don't know how sorry I am.” He shook his head and his voice trembled. “You don't know how sorry!”
Jimmy was surprised. He did not expect the minister, whose task it was to sign the death warrants which sent men to the gallows, to display such concern nor did he know that Stope-Kendrick was so close a friend of Gerald's. Stope-Kendrick secured control of his voice after a while.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.