"Let us try and see exactly how we stand," went on the Problem-hunter; "up to now there has been a lot of vague talk about whirlpools, chaos, wild beasts, and the like. Accurately speaking, we already have a complete chain, with the Copper House at one end, and the mysterious Gabriel Ortiz at the other. Two of the most important links in the chain are Fayerling and Tassler. I might add a third: Rastakov, though he is a subordinate, a sort of non-commissioned officer, so to speak, who gets all the dirty jobs for his share. Now we will take this extraordinary 'chain,' link by link, and sum up all we know about it. Of its head, Ortiz, we are not yet in a position to say anything very definite; most of our information about him dates from ten years back."
Wallion proceeded to give a brief outline of the story which he had related to B.22, a few hours earlier.
"Baron Fayerling, the fashionable society man, with his Roumanian property, is the next on our list," he continued; "he manages to invest his money on the most extraordinarily favorable terms. He banks with no fewer than six banks in Stockholm, two in Göteburg, and one in Copenhagen, Malmö, Christiania, and Hälsingfors respectively.
"The grand total of his outstanding account rises and falls in a very peculiar way: at the beginning of February he had no less than 12,000,000 kroner, at the end of the same month only half that amount, and at the end of March only a paltry 100,000. Two weeks later, he paid in on one day, 1,000,000 kroner to every one of his banking accounts, making another sum of 12,000,000 kroner. And now, in July, his account has reached the enormous total of over 20,000,000 kroner. Whatever kind of business does he carry on? No one can say. I have myself verified the names of eighty-four different persons, who have cashed the baron's checks; of these, all except four were foreigners, and half of them left Sweden afterwards, mostly bound for Russia or Finland. This influx of people, all of whom received money, and sometimes a great deal of it, from Fayerling, was largest at the beginning of March. Each man paid a short visit to the baron's room at the hotel, and two of them were shadowed the whole time by Rastakov. Three of them went out to the Copper House.
"We mustn't forget to mention Tassler, whose interests are closely allied to those of the baron. The Finno-Russian Import and Export Company is a bona fide concern; you can go whenever you like to their office in Drottning Street, and negotiate the buying or selling of almost any conceivable thing, for, like most other modern business men, Tassler deals in practically any goods, from clinical thermometers to coffee, tea and cocoa. A small number of the articles in which they deal are only to be found in the catalogue, but this is probably due to the fact that their value fluctuates with the continual rise of prices.
"Tassler's banking-accounts are as unimpeachable as those of the baron, and are deposited in much the same way. In one or two cases, I have ascertained that these two men had concluded a deal in which there was a genuine exchange of cash and goods; but, on the whole, I have not been able to discover that the Agents of the Company, who are to be found in all the large Scandinavian towns, carry on any business beyond an incessant correspondence, on the firm's stamped writing paper, with Messrs. Tassler and Fayerling.
"I have read through a whole pile of such letters; they are full of lists of goods, and business terms. Sometimes if it is anything urgent, they send telegrams. Tassler's agent in Göteburg did so when you landed from the American vessel. One gets the impression of elaborate machinery in full working-order, but it is not so easy to ascertain its object, for, if it were to make money, Fayerling and Tassler would not have a rag to their backs by this time.
"To put the thing in a nutshell, we see two gentlemen who allow millions to flow out through a hundred different channels, but we search in vain for the source of these millions or for the ultimate aim of such lavish expenditure. If it were a question of the usual spy-business, it would be easily understood, but neither Fayerling nor Tassler nor any of their associates in and around the Copper House appear to have the slightest connection with the belligerent powers. No, there is something else in the wind--but what?
"When I began my investigations, I evolved two different theories. The first was, that this was an organization for gun-running. It was a fact that Fayerling had been somehow implicated in the infamously famous expedition which attempted to smuggle explosives across the northern boundary into Finland, but was quashed by the Swedish authorities, and its promoters mysteriously dispersed. The equally famous motor-launch 'Nelly,' which attempted to cross the Gulf of Bothnia with a cargo of modern rifles, was seen a week previously cruising off the Copper House. But I could not obtain sufficient proof; and, above all, I was soon convinced that neither of such incidents could be more than a detail, a mere trifle, in Fayerling's daily program. I could see that he only goes in for big things. Thereupon, I started a fresh theory: that the whole affair was a federation to assist various political fugitives and conspirators in the technical part of their plans, such as forging passports, protecting them against counter-espionage, financing their journeys, purchasing weapons ... in short, a kind of revolutionary stock-jobbery. As a matter of fact, hundreds of revolutionaries and the like, with weapons and 'red' literature, were smuggled into Russia by way of Stockholm, at the beginning of this year. It would certainly be an interesting interpretation of the activities of the Finno-Russian Import and Export Company!
"But that explanation proved inadequate also: its aims were far too limited. Fayerling and Tassler were obviously interested in the Russian Revolution, but even after a revolutionary Government came into power in Petrograd, their mysterious work continued with unabated vigor, directed by the still invisible Gabriel Ortiz. I felt quite at a loss....
"Then, all of a sudden, a period of inactivity set in; it started some weeks ago. No more streams of unknown visitors, no more of that colossal expenditure ... absolute stagnation! I noticed that Fayerling was beginning to get fidgety; about once a day, usually rather late, he would hold a long conversation on the telephone, after which he regularly countermanded certain orders, and substituted new ones. I felt sure that Ortiz must be at the other end of the line during these talks, but I found it impossible to verify this. It was soon evident that some new plan was afoot, and I determined to redouble my watchfulness. One day my assistant, Robert Lang, overheard in the street a conversation between the baron and Tassler in which the latter alluded several times to 'Tarraschin's memorandum.' This gave us a fresh idea.
"Do you know what 'Tarraschin's memorandum' is?
"It has only once been referred to publicly, and that was by a Bulgarian journalist, who had got into some trouble over a newspaper controversy. He referred to 'Tarraschin's memorandum' as 'a bomb which, if it came into the right hands, would annihilate Europe.' The document must have been drawn up in Moscow immediately after the March revolution, and Prince Tarraschin was the originator of it. It contained a complete plan to destroy the Revolution and reinstate the Tsar, and practically all the best-known names of the Russian 'ancien régime' would be irrevocably compromised if the document came to light. Strangely enough, or perhaps, naturally enough, Prince Tarraschin died at the end of March, before his plan had gone further than the paper on which it was written, and the whole thing seemed to have died out altogether.
"This is where Bernard Jenin comes in, and at the same moment, Fayerling's attitude of suspense ends as though by magic! I see a person, simply known as B.22, told off to escort Jenin; I see Rastakov keeping an eye on them both; earnest consultations take place in the baron's apartments. To my surprise, I learn that this Bernard Jenin is in possession of nothing less than the Tarraschin document, and I gather that there is a plot to rob him of it.
"Then, having for a month past played the silent part of an unseen spectator, I decide to step in!
"I saw Rastakov go straight from the baron's room to that of Jenin, and I put a spoke in his wheel. I warned Jenin to look out carefully for a better hiding-place, and safer friends; he hardly said a word, but simply vanished. I wondered which way he had gone, but I could not follow him, because it became necessary for me, once for all, to take up a definite attitude as regarded the baron. I now learn for the first time, that Jenin dashed off to the Copper House, that Rastakov promptly followed him, and that they have, in all probability, murdered him there."
Maurice Wallion told his story rapidly, and almost without a pause. The silence which succeeded it lasted so long that it began to get on Leo's nerves. It seemed to him as though the mere fact of having listened to this fantastic tale brought with it some sort of responsibility--an awakening sense of duty.
"Do you think, too, that Jenin is dead?" he asked, just to break the silence.
"One can think anything, when one knows nothing," replied Wallion gravely. "I would rather have no theory than one which can be proved to have no foundation. But that Jenin, as soon as I have rescued him from one danger should run straight into another--that he should turn up so apparently unnecessarily at the Copper House, right in the middle of the hornets' nest, seems so senseless, that Lona Ivanovna's revolver-shot only puts the finishing touch to the story! The only thing that really puzzles me is why Sonia Bernin should have cried out: 'Sergius!'"
"Where do you suppose Tarraschin's document can have got to now?"
"Possibly into Lona Ivanovna's, or more accurately, into Andrei Bernin's hands. At any rate, Rastakov did not get hold of it."
"How can you be sure of that?"
"In this way: if he had been able yesterday to report the discovery of the document to the baron, and he in his turn to Ortiz, they would have not made such a frantic search amongst all my belongings later in the evening. They would have held all the trumps in their hands, and would have considered me comparatively harmless. But instead of that, they have turned my room at the office topsy-turvy, and have tried to do the same thing here, to find that paper, and that assures me that Rastakov has not discovered it at the Copper House--yet!"
"That seems probable," Leo agreed; "so you knew how they had ransacked your office?"
"Yes, Robert Lang telephoned it. But they carried off nothing more important than a photograph of Sonia Bernin."
"They didn't even get that!" cried Leo, triumphantly. "Look what I have! I got there first!"
There was such simple pride in the young man's look and words, that the Problem-hunter burst out laughing, and gave him a hearty slap on the back.
"Ah, now you are playing tricks on me," said he; "it's the Finger of Destiny, or the Master Mind, or whatever else you like to call it. It is quite evident that we two must coöperate!"
"Yes, we must do something," declared Leo, who had certainly never shown himself so decided in the whole of his life. "I am glad you summoned me home from California. We mustn't let things slide: we must keep a sharp look-out on what is going on at the Copper House."
The Problem-hunter looked pleasantly surprised at the reiterated "we must," and began to think that this young fellow had something in him after all.
"You heard what I said about Ortiz," said he warningly. "Don't imagine that the Man in the Whirlpool is a myth, and can be abolished in half an hour. He exists, and he is dangerous."
"Dangerous!" exclaimed Leo, coloring a little in his excitement. "With you to back me, who can call a man from the other side of the world, without saying a word to him! I know nothing of Ortiz, but at any rate, he has got you for an enemy!"
It was plain to see that the young man, like almost all those who met Wallion, had surrendered unconditionally to his suggestive personality. The calm voice and the keen eyes inspired Leo with unlimited confidence, and, at this moment, his mobile, rather undecided face took on a look of the journalist's, with his determined mouth and chin.
Wallion, who was watching him, took up his tumbler quickly to hide a smile, and said: "Unfortunately, though we know nothing about Ortiz, he knows all about us. He has the advantage of us there. But he and his satellites are suffering from one drawback: there are too many of them. 'A chain is no stronger than its weakest link.'"
"And it's just that link we have got to find," cried Leo.
"Yes, that's exactly what I was trying to do yesterday afternoon, while I was keeping Fayerling's counterspies at arm's length. I found that the man we know under the pseudonym of B.22, who escorted Bernard Jenin to Stockholm, has in some way incurred the baron's suspicions. I profited by this, and managed to fall in with B.22."
Here the journalist looked at his watch, and broke off: "I say, how time has flown! It is past six already!"
He extinguished the lamp, and they could see a glimmer of daylight between the thick curtains, which he now flung open. Waves of bright sunshine streamed into the room, and when the window was opened a refreshing morning-breeze blew softly in on their heated faces. They both inhaled it with enjoyment, and Wallion said: "Another day! I wonder if Gabriel Ortiz slept last night--not without dreaming, I'll wager. As long as there is a doubt about Tarraschin's memorandum ... but who knows, everything may be cleared up in an hour's time!"
"Why are you looking out into the street?"
"To see if the house is watched."
"And is it?"
"Fortunately not. We are lucky."
"How odd you look! One might think you were waiting for somebody. What's up?"
"I am expecting B.22. He was to be here at about seven."
Leo jumped up. "B.22 coming here?"
"Yes, the poor chap is scared stiff, and is inclined to betray Ortiz to save his own skin. I have promised to help him, as soon as he has made a full confession, though I doubt whether he will prove a very creditable witness...."
The door-bell rang; Wallion went to answer it, and a man came in hurriedly, holding a newspaper in his hand. It was the young journalist, Robert Lang, and he was so much out of breath that he could not speak for a minute, but handed the paper to his Chief with a silent gesture.
"You are out early," remarked Wallion coolly, though he already guessed the truth.
"No," retorted Lang hastily, "say rather, too late! Wallion, they have forestalled us again--B.22 is dead!"
"Dead!" echoed Leo and the Problem-hunter together. The latter, to whom Lang had handed the paper, glanced through it, and came to an underlined paragraph, which he read aloud:
'SUDDEN DEATH IN THE STREET LAST NIGHT.'
"'About eleven o'clock last night, a middle-aged and rather poorly dressed man was found dead upon one of the benches in the Railway Park. The man, who was apparently one of the many unknown strangers who are so frequently to be met with in Stockholm at the present time, seems to have died quite suddenly, no doubt in consequence of a heart-attack. Nothing was found in his pockets, except a card upon which was written in red ink, "B.22." It is therefore impossible to identify him. He was dressed....'" A brief description followed. Wallion threw down the paper, and asked:
"Is the Morning Post the only paper that gives the news?"
"Yes," replied Lang; "it must have been one of their reporters who came across him."
"Have you verified the report?"
"Yes, the dead man is B.22, there's no doubt about that."
"No," said Wallion slowly; "no doubt about it. We might have expected it. Poor wretch! the Whirlpool has sucked him in!"
"He makes the third," said Leo, looking much disturbed. "We must give notice to the police now!"
Wallion, who was standing with his head bent, now looked up.
"The third, if Bernard Jenin is really dead," he said. "But how can the police help us? What's the good of bringing an accusation against one Gabriel Ortiz, when no one has any idea where to find him? Or to arrest Fayerling or Tassler, against whom we have not a shadow of proof? Or to tell the fantastic history of Tarraschin's memorandum which none of us has seen? Go to the police, if you like--and in a week's time we shall be scoffed at as the most arrant liars and slanderers in Europe, and that is saying a good deal in this year of grace 1917!"
"But--aren't we right?" asked Leo, amazed.
"We haven't the right to be right, as long as we can't prove that we are! And you see, they have robbed us of our proof before we could take advantage of it."
"What shall we do, then?"
The Problem-hunter's gray eyes began to sparkle with indomitable energy. He spoke rapidly, but in such a tone that every word was impressed upon their minds.
"Lang, you go straight off to Lawyer Burchardt as soon as his office is open, and inform him on Mr. Grath's behalf that the Copper House is not for sale. You may tell the lawyer, under the seal of secrecy, as much of the truth as is necessary. After that, wait for further instructions from me."
Robert Lang looked at Leo.
"Yes," said he quickly; "it's quite correct, I have no intention of selling the Copper House to those people."
"And you, Mr. Grath," continued Wallion, "are presumed to be locked up in your bedroom at the present minute, fast asleep at the Copper House. It's a grand position, at the very center of all that's going on. So, catch the first train out to Karkby, and get back to your room the same way you left it--as long as nobody sees you doing it!"
Leo drew a deep breath.
"But supposing anyone saw me in Stockholm last night?"
"Nobody would have dreamed that you would be here, and that fellow outside my door had quite enough to do to look after himself."
