Chapter 13

�SO,� said Freyberger, when this detailed description of the affair had been given to him by his Chief, �it is briefly this: Gyde was being blackmailed by this man; he called on him, murdered him, and cut off his head, put it in a bag, came to London with the bag and slipped out of his London house, carrying with him his jewels. It is an extraordinarily strange case.�

�It seems clear enough.�

�Not to me, sir�excuse me for saying so.�

The Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department had long had his eye on Freyberger. He recognized genius in the man. He knew his temperament also, and that, if given a full rein and let speak and act as he liked he blossomed; but, if snubbed or kept in check he wilted, and became just an ordinary detective.

�Just explain yourself,� he said. �Give me the points in your mind that strike you.�

�Well, sir,� said the other, �why did this man leave those utterly damning letters behind him on the mantelpiece?�

�You know as well as I do,� replied the Chief, �that in every criminal�s brain there is a black spot, a vacant point that betrays him, and leads him to do some act, some extraordinarily stupid act, which in turn leads him�here.�

�Quite so. Why did he cut off his victim�s head�what in the name of heaven did he want to burden himself with a human head for? The man was known in the neighbourhood, his body was there to be identified; taking the head away would seem to serve no known purpose, unless he intended to keep it as a curiosity or memento.�

�I confess it puzzles me,� replied the other.

�On top of these two puzzling facts,� went on Freyberger, �we have the death of Leloir the valet.�

�He may have opened the bag and come upon the head.�

�I have thought of that, but the explanation does not satisfy me, for, from the expression of his face�� Freyberger stopped.

�Yes?�

�Well, I am convinced he saw something worse than an ordinary human head.�

�Remember that to open a bag and find a grizzly thing like that would give even the most stout-hearted man a shock.�

Freyberger shook his head. �There was a look of wild horror on his face that was caused, by what I know not, by what I even fail to imagine, but by something, I am very sure, much worse than the sight of a human head. I can almost fancy��

�Well?�

Freyberger gave a little laugh, as if at the idea that had struck him. �I can almost fancy a man dying with an expression on his face like that after he had seen the�unimaginable. Excuse me, I am a German by birth, and we Germans have wild thoughts sometimes. Let me be practical. With your permission I will telephone now to Coutts�s, they are Sir Anthony�s bankers; it may be as well to see if they have any knowledge of his movements.�

�Use the telephone,� replied the Chief.

Freyberger went to the instrument, spoke through it, received an answer, and spoke again. Then he listened attentively, and as he listened a faint smile stole over his face.

�He has been there at ten o�clock this morning, just as they opened, taken the box containing his late wife�s jewels, given a receipt for it, and departed. He evidently determined to collect all his resources. He has done it with great coolness. No professional criminal could have done it better.�

�You must remember he was a financier,� said the other.

�True,� replied Freyberger, �and now, if you will permit me, sir, I will go about the business of finding the cabman who drove him this morning, or last night. He is pretty certain�� He stopped, for at that moment a knock came to the door and a sergeant appeared.

�Telephone from Vine Street, sir, relative to 110B Piccadilly. A dismembered human head has been discovered.�

�Ha!� said the chief. �Any details?�

�No, sir, only the statement.�

The Chief went to his private telephone and spoke through, �Messenger come with word, no details, go at once Freyberger and report.�