Part 89

The question was quite an unorthodox procedure in English justice. But it was the Chief of the Spanish Detective Department who had arrested a Spanish criminal.

"Find out," was the fellow's defiant retort.

"It was Oswald De Gex," said Rivero. "You won't deny that! You may as well tell the truth, and things may go better with you. He was Despujol's friend, as well as yours--was he not?"

"Yes," the dark-faced man admitted sullenly. "We have both done his dirty work--and Moroni assisted him."

"You sent that soap to Mr. Garfield--eh?"

The man under arrest with Rivero's pistol still pointed at him nodded in the affirmative.

"And you went to The Hague and there met the Baron van Veltrup. You put that little piece of steel into his glove. I know that you did," Rivero went on relentlessly.

"Yes. De Gex paid me for it," was his reply.

"As he paid Despujol--eh?"

"Yes."

"Very well," replied Rivero. "I will note your replies. De Gex is expecting you to call upon him to-day, is he not?"

"Yes. At one o'clock. I was to receive some money," he laughed grimly.

The Spaniard having been taken away in a taxi to Bow Street Police Station, together with his luggage, we went on to Stretton Street.

"Mr. De Gex is not in," replied the man-servant who appeared in answer to my ring.

"Never mind," I said. "My friends and I have some business with him." And I walked into that big familiar hall, followed by Superintendent Fletcher, Señor Rivero, and two detectives.

"We have a meeting here," I explained casually to the smart man-servant who in surprise at our sudden entry showed us to the library, that same room in which I remembered sitting on that fateful November night.

It was nearly a year ago since I had last been in that big, handsomely furnished apartment. I did not remain there, for it was my intention to greet my would-be murderer on his return. Therefore I went to the hall and there awaited him.

Just before one o'clock he entered with his latchkey, and he having closed the door I stepped forward in his path.

"I think you know me--Mr. De Gex!" I exclaimed very firmly, my eyes fixed on him.

He started, and for a second went pale. Then in indignation, he exclaimed:

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I am here to see you, Mr. De Gex," I replied quite calmly.

"I don't know you," he declared angrily.

"Perhaps not," I laughed. "But there are others with me here who wish to speak a few words with you."

As I said this Superintendent Fletcher stepped forward, while behind him came the others.

"Mr. Oswald De Gex?" he asked. "Is that your name?"

The owner of the big mansion went pale to the lips, and muttered an affirmative.

"I hold a warrant for your arrest on the charge of the wilful murder of Gabrielle Engledue on the seventh of November last," said the Superintendent. "Your accomplice Sanz is already under arrest, I may tell you, and orders have gone out to Paris and to Florence for the arrest of your friends Suzor and Moroni." Then turning to his lieutenants, he gave orders for the great financier to be secured.