It was associated in some way with the sudden deaths of
several notable public men about that time; but as there was no
evidence of foul play in any of the cases, I couldn't see what it
meant at all. Then, six weeks ago, Sir Frank Narcombe, the surgeon,
fell dead in the foyer of a West-End theatre--you remember?"
CHAPTER IV
MADEMOISELLE DORIAN
The telephone bell rang.
Stuart reached across for the instrument and raised the receiver.
"Yes," he said--"Dr. Stuart speaking. Inspector Dunbar is here. Hold
on."
He passed the instrument to Dunbar, who had stood up on hearing his
name mentioned. "Sergeant Sowerby at Scotland Yard wishes to speak
to you, Inspector."
"Hullo," said Dunbar--"that you, Sowerby. Yes--but I arrived here
only a short time ago. What's that?--Max? Good God! what does it all
mean! Are you sure of the number--49685? Poor chap--he should have
worked with us instead of going off alone like that. But he was
always given to that sort of thing. Wait for me. I'll be with you in
a few minutes. I can get a taxi. And, Sowerby--listen! It's 'The
Scorpion' case right enough. That bit of gold found on the dead man
is not a cactus stem; it's a scorpion's tail!"
He put down the telephone and turned to Stuart, who had been listening
to the words with growing concern. Dunbar struck his open palm down
on to the table with a violent gesture.
"We have been asleep!" he exclaimed. "Gaston Max of the Paris Service
has been at work in London for a month, and we didn't know it!"
"Gaston Max!" cried Start--"then it must be a big case indeed.
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