Free Wallace at Bay by Alexander Wilson Page A

imagination enough to rise to Wilmer Peregrine Huckleberry Hawthorne.’
    ‘There are American anarchists,’ Brien reminded him.
    ‘I doubt it – there may be anarchists in America, but that is a different thing. Go on Maddison!’
    ‘This gentleman –’ Maddison coughed slightly as he pointed to the name, Julius Carberry ‘– is a traveller in ladies’ lingerie, and, if I may say so, sir, looks like it. He was pointed out to me.’
    ‘As bad as that, Maddison?’ queried Brien, his eyes twinkling humorously.
    ‘Quite, sir. He combed back his glossy locks while I was looking at him, and I’ll swear he uses lipstick. He’s the kind of unnatural creature who would stand with one hand on his hip and speak with a lisp.’
    ‘Oh, I say,’ murmured Brien in an affected voice, and his companions laughed.
    ‘Miss Veronica Simpson,’ went on Maddison, pointing out another resident, ‘is a retired schoolmistress spending her pension on seeing the sights, I believe.’
    ‘The old dear’s making whoopee,’ commented Sir Leonard.‘I don’t think we need consider her. Great Scott!’ he exclaimed suddenly, as Maddison’s finger fell on another name. ‘Look what we have here, Bill. Modjeska-Ivan,’ he read, ‘from Warsaw – Pole of independent means.’ There was a glint of excitement in his grey eyes as he looked up at Maddison. ‘What did you find out about him?’ he demanded.
    ‘He arrived yesterday, sir,’ was the reply. ‘Was here a little over a week ago, and gave as explanation for his return that a friend whom he had not seen for many years was coming to England from America, and is to meet him in London. His passport and other documents are in perfect order and, according to the landlord, he is a quiet, gentlemanly sort of man.’
    ‘You did not see him?’
    ‘No, he was out.’
    Wallace sat back in his chair.
    ‘You were right, Bill,’ he declared, ‘they have sent over a man to investigate, and this is he. Modjeska was one of the names mentioned by Casaroli in his frenzy. The note which Carter found torn up in Pestalozzi’s pocket and which he pieced together was initialled with the letter M. It was Modjeska whom Pestalozzi went to meet at the Canute Hotel ten days ago.’
    ‘There can be no doubt of that,’ agreed Brien, ‘but it puzzles me why he did not change his name.’
    ‘Why should he? He has no reason to think that he is suspected. Therefore, it is far safer to come here under his own name, especially as his papers are in perfect order. Besides, having come over here once, and so recently, as Modjeska, he could not very well appear as someone else unless, of course, he had taken a room elsewhere. Altogether I think he is a wise man. There’s another guest, isn’t there, Maddison?’
    ‘Yes, sir. This one.’ He pointed to a much blotted name, the last in the book. It looked like Beynon, but Maddison read it as Brown. ‘He arrived this morning, is quite unknown, and, to quote the proprietor again, talks with a broad north-country accent, and looks a bit down on his luck.’
    ‘I don’t think we need bother about him,’ decided Sir Leonard. He closed the book. ‘You can send it back – or rather take it back yourself, and allay any suspicions that may have been roused in the landlord’s honest breast. Let him understand that his guests are all quite unsuspected persons, and that the authorities you represent were barking up the wrong tree. I don’t want him to expect any police activity or anything like that, because another guest will arrive tonight. Neither he nor anybody in the hotel must have the slightest notion that the newcomer is anything but what he professes to be. You understand?’
    ‘Quite, sir.’
    Sir Leonard handed the book back to him.
    ‘Send Carter to me at once,’ he directed. When Maddison had gone, he turned to Brien. ‘Modjeska’s appearance in London has greatly helped me to complete my plans,’ he declared. ‘It may not be necessary to go