Free A Sword For the Baron by John Creasey

poisoning case. The indications are that someone brought her round from the coma induced by the gas, but that she didn’t rest long enough. Coming round and hearing sounds downstairs or finding you there might have been enough to bring on the further shock and the secondary collapse.”
    â€œFinding some one there,” Mannering corrected.
    Bristow let that pass.
    â€œHow is she?” demanded Mannering.
    â€œUnless there are complications which the doctor doesn’t anticipate she should be all right in a couple of days,” Bristow assured him. “Those two days could be of vital importance. Either she attempted suicide, or someone tried to kill her. You brought her round, didn’t you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI don’t believe you,” Bristow said flatly. “Listen, John. This is a case of extreme importance. It could lead you into very deep waters. Don’t get yourself into difficulties by behaving like a quixotic fool. Sara Gentian may have come and told you her story in confidence, but you’ve got to tell us what she said. If she came to you because she was frightened of being attacked, then—”
    â€œShe told me no such thing.”
    Bristow’s eyes seemed to become very bright, almost shimmering, as they stared at each other. Suddenly he moved, stubbed out the cigarette, finished his whisky and put the glass down sharply.
    â€œI don’t think you’d lie about that, anyhow. What did Lord Gentian want?”
    It was done so smoothly, and so neatly: nothing had suggested that Bristow knew that Lord Gentian had been to see Mannering, but he had known – and he slipped the question in to make Mannering realise that he knew. Mannering picked up the Yard man’s glass, took it to the court cupboard to refill it, came back, and said: “Why don’t we sit down?” Bristow chose the settle, probably realising that he was sitting on thousands of pounds in the safe beneath it. “Gentian didn’t say that it was confidential, but you’ll keep it to yourself, won’t you?”
    â€œProvided it isn’t the concealment of a crime.”
    â€œI haven’t enough information to say,” Mannering said. For the third time he told exactly what Lord Gentian had wanted, and this time he described the sword in great detail. He made the description as vivid as he could, so as to impress Bristow. The Yard man was the police expert on jewels, and his love for them was at least equal to a collector’s.
    Bristow sat and sipped and listened without interruption; it was some seconds after Mannering had finished before he spoke.
    â€œGentian didn’t report the theft of the first sword to the police. That I do know.”
    â€œI wouldn’t like to be sure that it was stolen in the legal sense,” Mannering said. “It looks like a kind of family feud.”
    â€œThat could be part of the explanation, but only a part,” said Bristow. “You know as well as I that you’re in a better position to find out whether the other Mogul Sword was ever offered for sale. I’ve a hazy kind of recollection that there was a sensational story about it before I first went to the Yard. That was nearly forty years ago, remember. I’ll check.”
    Larraby had had a hazy recollection, too.
    â€œI’ll ask around,” Mannering promised.
    â€œI hope you will,” said Bristow. “John, I’ve told you already that you could run into serious trouble in this affair. You’re not dealing only with collectors of jewels and fine art, you know – that isn’t Gentian’s world. Gentian’s a curious character. He’s spent most of his life out of the country. Whenever he’s at home he behaves like a recluse, and yet he can exert a lot of pressure – he has a lot of financial power, too. He’s very wealthy indeed, and controls some of the most important land in the heart of