06 Alias the Saint

And he leaned back with a slight smile, as though he were convinced that-there could not possibly be any valid criticism.

"There's one thing you haven't told us," said the man on his right. "That is--where are we going to get hold of the stuff?"

"It cannot be bought," answered the Professor. "Therefore we shall make it."

The man appeared to continue in doubt.

"That's easy to say," he remarked, "Now consider it practically. Neither Crantor nor I know anything about chemistry. And you're clever in many ways, I know, but I don't believe even you can do that."

"That is quite true," said the Professor. "can't."

"A chemist must be bought," said Crantor.

The Professor shook his head.

"No chemist will be bought," he said. "We cannot afford to buy anybody. Bought men are dangerous. The man who can be bought by one party can be bought by another if the price is big enough, and I never take risks of that sort. We will compel a chemist to do what we require, and it will be so arranged that we shall be insured against betrayal. I have already selected the agent. Her name is Betty Tregarth. She is very young, but she has taken a degree with honours, and she is a fully qualified analytical chemist. At present she is on the staff of Coulter's, the artificial silk people. I have made all the necessary inquiries, and I know that. she, has all the qualifications for the task."

The man with the long neck turned, and took his cigar out of his mouth.

"Do you mind telling us how you are going to make her do it. Professor?" he asked.

"Not at all, my dear Marring," answered the Professor, and proceeded to do so.

This plan also they were unable to criticize, but Gregory Marring remained dissentient on one point.

"It oughtn't to have been a woman," he declared with conviction. "You never know where you are with women."

The Professor smiled.

"That remark only demonstrates the crudity of your intelligence," he said. "My contention is that with a woman one can always be fairly certain where one is, but men are liable to be obstinate and difficult."

The point was not argued further.

"I may take it, then," suggested the Professor, "that we are prepared to start at once,"

"There's nothing to stop us," said Marring.

"Thasso," said Crantor.

The Professor turned and gazed thoughtfully out of the window. It looked very cold and bleak outside, but what he saw seemed to please him, for he smiled.

Three nights later, at about nine o'clock, Betty Tregarth was roused from the book she was reading by the ringing of the telephone.

"Is that Miss Betty Tregarth?"

"Yes. Who is that?"

"I am speaking for your brother, Miss Tregarth. My name is Raxel--Professor Bernhard Raxel. Your brother was knocked down by a taxi outside my house a little while ago, and he was carried in here to await the arrival of an ambulance. The doctors, however, have decided against moving him."

The girl's heart stopped beating for a moment.

"Is he--is he in danger?"

"I am afraid your brother is very seriously injured, Miss Tregarth, but he is quite conscious. Will you please come at once?"

"Yes, yes!" She was frantic now. "What address?"

Number seven, Cornwallis Read. It is onlya few hundred yards from your front door.'

"I know. I'll be round in five minutes. Goodbye."

She hung up the receiver and dashed for a' hat and coat.

Only an hour ago her brother had left the flat which they shared, having declared his intention of visiting a West End cinema. He would have passed down Cornwallis Road on his way to the tube station. She dared not think how bad his injuries might be. She knew the significance of these quietly ominous summonses, for her father had been fatally injured in a street accident only three years before.

In a few minutes she was ringing the bell of Number seven, Cornwallis Road, and almost immediately the door was opened by a butler.

"Miss Tregarth?" he guessed at once, for there was no mistaking her distress. "Professor Raxel told me to expect you."

"Where's my brother?"

The man threw open a door.

"If you will wait here, Miss Tregarth, I will tell the Professor that you have arrived."

She went in. The room was furnished as a waiting room, and she wondered what the professor's profession was. There were a couple of armchairs, a bookcase in one corner, and a table in the centre littered with magazines. She sat down and strove to possess herself in patience; but she had not long to wait.

In a few moments the door opened, and a tall, thin, elderly man entered. She sprang up.

"Are you Professor Raxel?"

"I am. And you, of course, are Miss Tregarth." He took her hand. "I am afraid you will not be able to see your brother for a few minutes, as the doctor is still with him, Please sit down again."

She sat down, struggling to preserve her composure.

"Tell me--what's happened to him?"

Before answering, the Professor produced a gold cigarette case and offered it. She would have refused, but he insisted.

"It doesn't take a professor to see that you are in a bad state of nerves," he said kindly. "A cigarette will help you."