Chapter IV

"I have asked you to come to see me, Mr. Nape," said the Duke, "because I feel I owe you an apology."

The criminologist nodded stiffly.

He thought that under the circumstances the Duke might have very well come to him, but he was not prepared to labour the point.

"We all make mistakes," said the Duke generously, "I for instance have been mistaken in you."

Mr. Nape made another stern acknowledgment.

"I thought your methods were unconventional; I mistrusted the new type of detective; I have been trained in the old school where the man who murders the banker is never the burglar who robs the safe, but the good bishop who calls for the missionary subscription; where the villain who steals the Crown jewels is not the impecunious soldier of fortune, but the heir apparent."

Mr. Nape stood rigidly at attention and waited. It pleased him to see evidence of a great remorse upon the tanned young face before him, to observe deep shadows under his eyes, and--he had not noticed them before--a sprinkling of grey hairs at his temple. Mr. Nape drew his own conclusions.

"Now," said the Duke with a self-depreciating wave of his hand, "I know that the old method is obsolete, that from the first the guilty party is the obvious--"

"Obvious to all who employ the process of elimination," corrected Mr. Nape severely.

"Exactly," agreed the Duke. "I now know, that if you catch a man with his hand in your pocket, you eliminate everybody whose hands do not happen to be in your pocket, and by this process arrive at the culprit."

Mr. Nape looked a little dubious.

"My confidence in your ability being established," the Duke went on, "I wish you to accept a commission from me."

Mr. Nape regarded him with cold suspicion.

"It isn't by any chance connected with electric bells?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not at all."

"Or digging holes in a garden?"

The Duke shot a reproachful glance at him.

"As to that unfortunate incident," he said, "you have yourself to blame. But for the completeness of your disguise----"

"Which you penetrated," said Roderick gloomily.

"I confess," said the Duke, with pleasing frankness, "that I spotted the false whiskers--or was it a moustache? I said to Hank, 'Who on earth can it be?' and Hank couldn't think of anybody. 'It's a detective,' said Hank, 'but what detective?' We thought of everybody till Hank--you know what a penetrating devil he is--said 'By Jove! It must be Jacko--I mean Nape!'"

Mr. Nape looked important.

"And the commission you wish me to accept?" he asked.

"It will be necessary," said the Duke slowly, "to take you into my confidence. I am in a deuce of a mess: I have incurred the enmity of a great and powerful man, who has invoked the machinery of the law and threatened me with its instrument--in fact," he said in an outburst of candour, "brokers." Mr. Nape who had visions of something a trifle more heroic, said "Oh."

"Not only this," the Duke went on, "but he has unscrupulously, pertinaciously and several other words which I cannot at the moment recall, brought to his aid the most powerful factor of all--the Press."

The Duke picked up a long newspaper cutting that lay at his side.

"Read that," he said.

Mr. Nape obeyed.

It was headed "The Duke in the Suburbs," "meaning me," said the Duke complacently, "read on."

Mr. Nape skimmed the leading article--for such it was--rapidly:

"Titles," says Voltaire, "are of no value to posterity, the name
of a man who has achieved great deeds imposes more respect than
any or all epithets."

"He boned that out of a book of familiar quotations," explained the Duke admiringly, "go on."

"It would seem that the English character, ever sturdy and
self-reliant, is in imminent danger of deterioration...."

"Title worship is unworthy of a great people.... Especially
foolish is the worship when the demi-god is an obscure
foreigner, whose chief asset is an overwhelming amount of self
confidence, and an absolute disregard for the amenities and
decencies of social intercourse."

"I can't quite place that last bit," said the Duke, "it is probably employed to round off the sentence--proceed, Mr. Nape."

"With every desire to preserve intact the admirable
relationships that exist _at the present moment_ between
ourselves and our Gallic neighbours, we should be wanting in our
duty if we did not point out, and emphasize in the strongest
possible terms, the necessity for a strict observance on the
part of our foreign guests, of the laws of this land."

"That's rather involved," commented the Duke, "but I gather the sense of the stricture--pardon me."

Mr. Nape continued.

"The English laws are just and equitable; they are the
admiration and wonder of the world. The late Baron Pollock on
one famous occasion said----"

"Skip that bit," interrupted the Duke.

"The laws affecting property are no less admirably framed. In a
noted judgment the late Lord Justice Coleridge laid down the
dictum----"

"And that bit too," said the Duke; "go on to the part that deals with the lawless alien."

"Most difficult of all," read Mr. Nape, "is the landlord's
position when he has to deal with the alien, who, ignorant of
the law, sets the law at defiance: who opposes his puny strength
to the mighty machinery of legislation, and its accredited
instruments."

Hank, a silent and interested listener, moved uneasily in the depths of his big chair.

He removed his cigar to ask a question.

"Is she the writ of ejection or the notice to quit?" he asked soberly.

"I gather that she's the court bailiff," said the Duke reverently.

"We would remind the person to whom these admonitions are
addressed,--in the friendliest spirit--that there is a power
behind the law. The majesty of our prestige is supported by the
might of armed force."

"That's the militia," said the Duke, "Captain Hal Tanneur of the North Kent Fencibles! Hank, we're up against the army. We're an international problem: you heard the reference to the friendly relations? We're the fly in the Entente Cordiale ointment."

"And a possible _causus belli_," murmured Hank.

"And a _causus belli_," repeated the Duke impressively.

There was a silence as Mr. Nape carefully folded the cutting and placed it on the table. A continued silence when he leant back in his chair, with his finger-tips touching and his eyes absently fixed on the ceiling.

"Well?" said the Duke.

Mr. Nape smiled.

The solution of the problem was simple.

"You want me to find the man who wrote that article?" he said languidly. "It will not be particularly difficult. There are certain features about this case which are, I admit, puzzling. The reference to Baron Pollock and the Lord Chief Justice show me that the writer was a lawyer, the----"

"Oh, I know who wrote the article," said the Duke cheerfully, and Mr. Nape was disconcerted and annoyed.

Then an idea struck him and he brightened.

"I see," he said, "you want me to discover the circumstances under which they were written. You have a secret enemy who----"

"On the contrary," said the Duke, "I know all the circumstances and I know the name, address, age and hobbies of the enemy."

Mr. Nape's exasperation was justified under the circumstances.

"May I ask," he demanded coldly, "why I have been called in?"

"That seems fair?" The Duke appealed to Hank, and Hank nodded. "It seems a deucedly fair question."

He turned to the young man--

"Mr. Nape," he said solemnly, "we want an editor for the _Brockley Aristocrat_."

Mr. Nape saw light.

"I of course know the paper," he said--there was little that Mr. Nape did _not_ know--"but I have only seen it once--or twice," he corrected carefully.

"It doesn't exist yet," said his serene grace, "it's a new paper that Hank and I are going to run, and we need an editor."

"I see," said Mr. Nape, industriously blowing his nose to hide his confusion....

"We want an editor of fearless independent character, who will do as he's told, and ask no questions."

"Yes, yes," approved the detective.

"A man of judgment, of keen discernment and possessed, moreover, of a knowledge of men and things."

Mr. Nape nodded thoughtfully.

"Some one we can depend upon to carry out a policy without striking out on some silly idea of his own--there's the job, will you take it?"

"I have had some experience," began Mr. Nape, but the Duke interrupted--

"Pardon me," he said, "but it is not experience that's required. An experienced editor would not do the things we shall expect our editor to do. We shall expect him to--er--rush in where the _Times_ would fear to tread."

Mr. Nape had a dim idea that the turn the Duke gave to this requirement was not as complimentary as it might have been.

"I have a feeling," the Duke continued, "that in Nape we have discovered a local Delane."

He spoke ostensibly to Hank, as though oblivious of the new Editor's presence. Mr. Nape rather enjoyed the experience than otherwise.

"Or a Horace Greely," suggested the patriotic American.

The Duke assented gravely.

"There are certain conditions of service to be laid down," the Duke went on, "a definite policy to be followed, a----"

"I am a conservative." Mr. Nape paused to observe the effect of his declaration. In the absence of an outburst of wild enthusiasm Mr. Nape hedged his bet, "but" he went on carelessly, "I am open to conviction."

The Duke nodded.

"We shall expect you to uphold the best traditions of current journalism," he said, "and I do not doubt but that you will succeed. You must be prepared to jump with the cat--you follow me?"

"Yes," said Mr. Nape, who had not the least idea what cat was referred to.

"You must be careful not to give offence to the friendly nations. I will supply you with a revised list of them from week to week--and deal lightly with the Borough Council. You may have a whack at the Czar now and again, but whatever you do, be careful that you do not annoy the advertisers. Keep an eye upon the Balkans, the shipbuilding programme of Germany, and the London County Council."

"And Sir Harry Tanneur," added Hank.

"Sir Harry Tanneur!"

Mr. Nape was surprised.

"You know him?"

The detective became instantly his mysterious self.

"He was a client of mine," he said briefly.

Having so brusquely dismissed the subject in a manner that arrested all further investigation he regretted the fact. For he would have liked to explain the reading of the cutting at the concert, would have been delighted to accept recognition as the Duke's good fairy.

But the Duke did not pursue the subject.

He rose from his chair and held out his hand.

"Can you see me to-morrow?" he asked, "I have to arrange an office and a printer."

Mr. Nape bowed.

"In the meantime," said his grace, "you had better think out some leaders.

"I have already thought of one," said the resourceful editor. "It is entitled _Noblesse Oblige_.

"A most excellent title," said the Duke admiringly, "I'll write the article myself."

Mr. Nape went home deep in thought.

The adoring little maid of all work, who met him at the door ventured to report.

"I've done up the laboratory, sir; them bloodstains have come from the butcher's, and the plumber's fixed up the microscope all right."

Mr. Nape stared at her vacantly.

"Remove the rubbish," he said shortly.

Emma gasped.

"Beg pardon, sir?" she stammered.

"The rubbish!" cried Roderick impatiently stamping his foot, "microscope and bloodstains and human hair--take them away."

A thought struck him.

"Run down to the stationers and get that book _How to Correct Printers' Proofs_--it's sixpence."

The dazed girl accepted the coin.

"Shall I bring it to your laboratory?" she asked feebly.

Roderick turned a stern face upon her.

"Sanctum," he thundered, "there is no more laboratory, _sanctum sanctorum_--did they teach you Latin at school, Emma?"

"No, sir," she confessed, "that's the thing you do with compasses, ain't it?"

Mr. Nape shrugged his shoulders and walked slowly to the greenhouse.