The Stretton Street Affair/Chapter 17

I met my friend Hambledon in secret at two o’clock that day under the trees at a spot in the Retiro, not far from the great Plaza de la Independencia, we sat down and I described to him my strange midnight adventure.

He listened in amazement, which was increased when I told him how the police had recognized in the inoffensive lawyer of Burgos the notorious bandit Despujol, who was wanted not only by Scotland Yard, but by the police of Europe.

“But those carpet pins are a curious feature of the affair, Hughie,” he remarked.

“Yes. The police seem to attach no importance to them—but I do.”

“So do I. The opinion of Professor Vega may throw some light upon the affair.”

“I shall call at the Princesa Hospital to-morrow,” I said, and then I inquired the latest information concerning De Gex and his French friend.

There was little to report. De Gex had not been out of the hotel, though Suzor had gone to purchase some cigars at eleven o’clock that morning. While Suzor was absent De Gex had, according to the friendly concierge, received a visitor, a middle-aged Spanish woman of the middle-class. She had asked to see him, and on her name being sent up the great one at once gave orders for her to be admitted.

Again the floor waiter became inquisitive, and heard the financier speaking in English with his visitor.

“Unfortunate! Most unfortunate!” he heard De Gex say. “I am very glad, however, that you have come to me so quickly. You had a telegram from Siguenza—eh?”

“I received it only a quarter of an hour ago, sir,” the woman had replied in broken English.

Then De Gex had apparently given her something for her services, and dismissed her.

“A telegram from Siguenza!” I exclaimed, when my friend Harry had told me this. “Now Siguenza is on the direct line from here to the Pyrenees and the French frontier! That telegram may be from Despujol while in flight. If so, the police have set a trap for him at his journey’s end, either at Jaca beneath Mont Perdu, or at Pamplona. I wonder if he’ll be caught?”

“He might go on to Zaragoza and then turn to Barcelona and Marseilles,” Hambledon remarked.

“All the frontiers are watched, so it seems almost impossible for him to escape. But,” I added, “I wonder if this information conveyed by the Spanish woman really concerned the fugitive?”

“I wonder. A man like De Gex, with so many financial irons in the fire, and with agents in every European capital, is bound to receive visits from all sorts and conditions of people who bring him information for profit. When one deals in colossal sums as he does, one has to cultivate people of all classes,” Hambledon said. “Personally, I don’t think the woman’s information had anything to do with your mysterious friend’s hurried departure,” he added.

“I do. I’m highly suspicious. There was some motive that he did not attack me, as he could so easily have done, for he’s a most desperate character and has committed several murders when cornered. His explanation was really wonderful, and I admit that I was so completely deceived that I actually apologized to him! But,” I went on, “we may perhaps know more when we learn the truth from Professor Vega.”

Hence at noon next day I called at the great hospital in the Calle Alberto Aguilera, and was ushered into the Professor’s room.

“Ah, my dear monsieur!” he exclaimed in French, knowing that I spoke Spanish only with the greatest difficulty. “I am very glad you have called. Those brass-headed pins which upholsterers often use, and which you have submitted to me, are most interesting from a toxicological point of view.”

“What?” I gasped. “Were they poisoned?”

“Undoubtedly,” replied the grave-faced old expert. “And by somebody who is au courant with the very latest and undetectable poison. I searched for alkaloids and glucosids, and used Kippenberger’s process, and then the tests of Marne, Meyer, Scheiblen and Dragendorff. Since you brought the three pins to me I have been active all the time, for the problem much interests me. At last—though I did not think that the substance could possibly contain so subtle, deadly, and as yet unknown poison—I applied Sonnenschein’s reagent—phosphomolybdic acid—and then I obtained a result—only an hour ago indeed!”

“And what was the result, Professor?”

He looked me straight in the face, and replied:

“You have had a very narrow escape from death, monsieur—a very narrow one. Had you placed your foot upon one of those upturned points you would have fallen dead within five seconds!”

“Why?”

“Because each of the points of those three pins, left there as though by accident by some upholsterer employed by the hotel, was impregnated by one of the most deadly of all newly-discovered poisons. It is called by men of my profession orosin, after its discoverer Orosi, and is certainly a most dangerous poison in the hands of anyone with criminal intent, because no post-mortem examination known to the medical profession to-day would be able to detect whether the victim had been murdered or died of natural causes.”

“It astounds me!” I gasped.

“No doubt. But to me, of course, it is a most interesting piece of research,” and the professor went on: “I have never met this substance before, though I had heard whispers of it. Professor Orosi, who lived in Cologne a few years ago and is now dead, produced this poison quite accidentally, and among his intimate friends disclosed its existence, though he had no idea how to test for it with certainty. For five years all toxicologists made constant tests until apparently quite by accident Professor Sonnenschein, of Hanover, discovered the reagent which would reveal the actual glucosid, and determine its identity. It gives a yellowish-white precipitate,” he added, holding up for my inspection a small test-tube containing a liquid of the colour he had indicated.

“Marvellous!” I exclaimed. “I had no idea that medical science could carry inquiries so far. I know that in criminal cases in London our pathologists, with their mirror-tests for arsenic, fix the guilt upon poisoners in a manner most amazing. But I have never heard of this secret and most subtle poison which was placed beside my bed, the intention being for me to tread upon the impregnated pin.”

“And if you had done so you would have been taken with a sudden fatal seizure, the cause of which would never have been detected.”

“You mean I should have died of poison?”

“You certainly would. No medical aid would have been of any avail, for orosin is the most deadly substance which has ever been discovered. It is indeed good for humanity that it is known to only a few toxicologists, but that in itself reveals the fact, monsieur, that an exceedingly clever and secret attack has been made upon your life. A single puncture of the skin with one or other of those pins which were placed so conveniently at your bedside when you sprang out to meet the intruder, and you would by this time have been buried as one whose death had been due to natural causes!”

I held my breath. This declaration by one of the greatest professors of toxicology in Europe staggered me. A dastardly attempt had been made upon me by one of the most notorious of modern criminals!

Why? No attempt at assassination is made without some motive, and the game must ever be “worth the candle.”

The whole of the dramatic incidents of the night flashed across my memory; how I had faced the fellow in my room, challenged him at the point of my pistol, and compelled him to give me meekly proofs of his respectability. Truly it was all humorous—but only from Despujol’s point of view.

I recollected those innocent-looking pins which apparently had been left so carelessly in my room. Each held for me a sudden and suspicious death.

“The slightest puncture of the skin would inevitably prove fatal,” the Professor continued. “Feeling yourself pricked you would naturally remove the pin and very quickly afterwards death would supervene. So prior to it you yourself would no doubt have removed all trace of the crime!”

“It is as well that such poison is not generally known, or it would be used by many who wished to get rid of their friends,” I remarked.

The Professor laughed, and agreed, saying:

“There are several poisons of the same type which are known only to toxicologists, and we are very careful not to allow the public sufficient knowledge of them. I must confess that I never dreamed when I commenced my investigations that I was in the presence of orosin. There is sufficient in this little tube”—and he held it to the light—“to kill a hundred persons. It certainly is one of the most dangerous of known compounds.”

“So it is evident that the man Despujol entered my room and placed the pins there intending that I should step upon one or other of them!” I gasped.

“Without doubt. And it seems little short of a marvel that you escaped,” said the Professor.

“It certainly does,” I remarked. “But I must tell the police of the fact you have established. The affair now assumes a new phase. The man was not in my room with the intention of robbery, but in order to encompass my death by secret means.”

“If you had not so fortunately avoided treading upon the pins you certainly would not be alive at the moment,” remarked the Professor, again reflectively examining the yellow fluid in the tube. “What motive could the man have had in gaining access to your room and placing the pins there? I suppose he did not risk putting them there before you went to bed, as you might have picked one up on your boot, and that would have drawn your attention to them. By placing them there after you were in bed he hoped that, on getting out, your bare foot would come into contact with one of the impregnated points.”

“It was certainly a most fiendish plot!” I declared. “And I thank you, Professor, for taking all this trouble with your analysis and so establishing the truth. I will go to the police and inform them.”

“Yes. I wish you to do that, for the fellow is undoubtedly in possession of orosin, and intends to use it. Perhaps he has already killed people by the same subtle and secret means.”

“He must be arrested at all costs,” I said. “Already the police all over Spain are watching for him, and special surveillance is being kept along all the railways and on the frontier.”

“Any person with orosin in his possession should be detained and examined,” the Professor declared. “I wonder where he obtained it?”

“Who knows?” I exclaimed, but I was reflecting whether, after all, my presence in Madrid was not known to De Gex. If so, was it possible that he had hired the notorious Despujol to attack me in secret!

“Of course we know that there is a secret traffic in poisons. Medico-legists, with the police, have established that fact over and over again,” said Professor Vega. “But the vendors are very difficult to trace. One was found only six months ago—a doctor living in a suburb of Copenhagen. But orosin is not known to a dozen people beyond those who study toxicology. Hence this man Despujol must have been supplied with it by someone who knew.”

The suspicion had arisen in my mind that De Gex and his agent Suzor knew that I was in Madrid for the purpose of watching them, and they had resorted to a very clever and secret means of getting rid of me once and for all. If the notorious criminal Despujol was in their pay he would no doubt afterwards blackmail them, now that the desperate plot had failed. Again, could it be possible that Moroni had had any hand in supplying this most effective and dangerous of all secret poisons to the Spanish malefactor who snapped his defiant fingers under the very nose of the police?

As I sat in that quiet room of the Professor’s, a room that smelt strongly of chemicals, though it was filled mostly with books, I could not refrain from shuddering when I reflected upon the narrow escape I had had. Yet if De Gex resorted to such measures, he must certainly hold me in great fear. Besides, if my life was threatened, so also was that of my friend Harry Hambledon, who remained so vigilant in the serene belief that his presence was undetected.

At that time I never dreamed that the great financier who controlled the destinies of certain European States never moved without a police official being in attendance, and that surveillance was kept upon him as though he were royalty travelling incognito. De Gex, it seemed, was ever afraid that one of his enemies, the hundreds whom he had ruined by dint of sharp practice, unscrupulous dealing, and flagrant bribery, might seek revenge.

Hence, though neither Hambledon nor myself knew of it, both De Gex and his toady and agent, Gaston Suzor, were well aware of our presence, and, moreover, were kept posted concerning our movements from day to day!

Though we were in ignorance of all this, yet the desperate nature of the plot against me caused me to wonder what exactly was the fear in which De Gex held me. Of course it concerned Gabrielle Tennison. But exactly how, I failed to surmise.

One thing was certain, that the mystery-man of Europe intended to rid himself of me, and in this he was being aided by certain of his friends, chief among whom were Suzor and Moroni. That the assassin Despujol was only a paid servant was quite clear. But the pay must have been a very handsome sum to cause him to dare to come to Madrid so boldly and run the risk of arrest.

I smiled at my own innocence when I remembered how completely he had imposed upon me by showing me his papers of identity, and the photographs of his pretended family. Truly only a great criminal could have remained so imperturbed and polite to the man whom he intended should die.

“This drug orosin is a very mysterious one, I suppose?” I remarked a few seconds later as the Professor, who had offered me a cigar, was in the act of lighting up.

“Yes. A very weak solution taken by the mouth produces extraordinary effects upon the human brain. The latter almost instantly becomes unbalanced and the victim lapses into an unconscious state for days, even for weeks,” he said. “Very often the brain is quite normal, save that a complete loss of memory follows the return to consciousness. In other cases orosin has produced complete and hopeless dementia.”

“Always hopeless?” I asked eagerly, recollecting my own case and that of Gabrielle Tennison.

“Not always hopeless. There have been cases that have been cured.”

“Do you know any personally?” I demanded breathlessly.

“There are one or two—very few—on record. Professor Gourbeil, the well-known alienist of Lyons, has observed two patients who recovered. But the majority of cases where orosin has been administered were found incurable. The mind is blank, the memory completely destroyed, and the general health so undermined that only the strongest persons can withstand the strain.”

At once I described Gabrielle’s symptoms and general attitude, whereupon the Professor said:

“What you tell me are the exact symptoms exhibited by a person to whom a small dose of orosin has been administered. In most cases, however, such a state of mind develops into actual insanity with a homicidal tendency. Such a patient should be very carefully watched, for in ninety per cent. the chance of a cure is, alas! beyond expectation.”