Chapter 1

The Secret
of Chimneys

THE SECRET OF CHIMNEYS
Copyright © 1925 by Dodd, Mead & Company, Inc.

TO
PUNKIE

Contents

1 ANTHONY CADE SIGNS ON _1_

2 A LADY IN DISTRESS _11_

3 ANXIETY IN HIGH PLACES _20_

4 INTRODUCING A VERY CHARMING LADY _27_

5 FIRST NIGHT IN LONDON _33_

6 THE GENTLE ART OF BLACKMAIL _46_

7 MR. MCGRATH REFUSES AN INVITATION _57_

8 A DEAD MAN _66_

9 ANTHONY DISPOSES OF A BODY _74_

10 CHIMNEYS _83_

11 SUPERINTENDENT BATTLE ARRIVES _94_

12 ANTHONY TELLS HIS STORY _100_

13 THE AMERICAN VISITOR _110_

14 MAINLY POLITICAL AND FINANCIAL _116_

15 THE FRENCH STRANGER _125_

16 TEA IN THE SCHOOLROOM _138_

17 A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE _150_

18 SECOND MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE _159_

19 SECRET HISTORY _170_

20 BATTLE AND ANTHONY CONFER _181_

21 MR. ISAACSTEIN’S SUIT-CASE _188_

22 THE RED SIGNAL _199_

23 ENCOUNTER IN THE ROSE GARDEN _212_

24 THE HOUSE AT DOVER _222_

25 TUESDAY NIGHT AT CHIMNEYS _230_

26 THE 13TH OF OCTOBER _238_

27 THE 13TH OF OCTOBER (_contd._) _244_

28 KING VICTOR _254_

29 FURTHER EXPLANATIONS _259_

30 ANTHONY SIGNS ON FOR A NEW JOB _264_

31 SUNDRY DETAILS _271_

1

Anthony Cade Signs on

“Gentleman Joe!”

“Why, if it isn’t old Jimmy McGrath.”

Castle’s Select Tour, represented by seven depressed-looking females
and three perspiring males, looked on with considerable interest.
Evidently their Mr. Cade had met an old friend. They all admired
Mr. Cade so much, his tall lean figure, his sun-tanned face, the
light-hearted manner with which he settled disputes and cajoled
them all into good temper. This friend of his now—surely rather a
peculiar-looking man. About the same height as Mr. Cade, but thickset
and not nearly so good-looking. The sort of man one read about in
books, who probably kept a saloon. Interesting, though. After all, that
was what one came abroad for—to see all these peculiar things one read
about in books. Up to now, they had been rather bored with Bulawayo.
The sun was unbearably hot, the hotel was uncomfortable, there seemed
to be nowhere particular to go until the moment should arrive to motor
to the Matoppos. Very fortunately, Mr. Cade had suggested picture
postcards. There was an excellent supply of picture postcards.

Anthony Cade and his friend had stepped a little apart.

“What the hell are you doing with this pack of females?” demanded
McGrath. “Starting a harem.”

“Not with this little lot,” grinned Anthony. “Have you taken a good
look at them?”

“I have that. Thought maybe you were losing your eyesight.”

“My eyesight’s as good as ever it was. No, this is a Castle’s Select
Tour. I’m Castle—the local Castle, I mean.”

“What the hell made you take on a job like that?”

“A regrettable necessity for cash. I can assure you it doesn’t suit my
temperament.”

Jimmy grinned.

“Never a hog for regular work, were you?”

Anthony ignored this aspersion.

“However, something will turn up soon, I expect,” he remarked
hopefully. “It usually does.”

Jimmy chuckled.

“If there’s any trouble brewing, Anthony Cade is sure to be in it
sooner or later, I know that,” he said. “You’ve an absolute instinct
for rows—_and_ the nine lives of a cat. When can we have a yarn
together?”

Anthony sighed.

“I’ve got to take these cackling hens to see Rhodes’s grave.”

“That’s the stuff,” said Jimmy approvingly. “They’ll come back bumped
black and blue with the ruts in the road, and clamouring for bed
to rest the bruises on. Then you and I will have a spot or two and
exchange the news.”

“Right. So long, Jimmy.”

Anthony rejoined his flock of sheep. Miss Taylor, the youngest and most
skittish of the party, instantly attacked him.

“Oh, Mr. Cade, was that an old friend of yours?”

“It was, Miss Taylor. One of the friends of my blameless youth.”

Miss Taylor giggled.

“I thought he was such an interesting-looking man.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

“Oh, Mr. Cade, how can you be so naughty! The very idea! What was that
name he called you?”

“Gentleman Joe?”

“Yes. Is your name Joe?”

“I thought you knew it was Anthony, Miss Taylor.”

“Oh, go on with you!” cried Miss Taylor coquettishly.

Anthony had by now well mastered his duties. In addition to making the
necessary arrangements of travel, they included soothing down irritable
old gentlemen when their dignity was ruffled, seeing that elderly
matrons had ample opportunities to buy picture postcards, and flirting
with everything under a catholic forty years of age. The last task
was rendered easier for him by the extreme readiness of the ladies in
question to read a tender meaning into his most innocent remarks.

Miss Taylor returned to the attack.

“Why does he call you Joe, then?”

“Oh, just because it isn’t my name.”

“And why Gentleman Joe?”

“The same kind of reason.”

“Oh, Mr. Cade,” protested Miss Taylor, much distressed, “I’m sure you
shouldn’t say that. Papa was only saying last night what gentlemanly
manners you had.”

“Very kind of your father, I’m sure, Miss Taylor.”

“And we are all agreed that you are quite the gentleman.”

“I’m overwhelmed.”

“No, really, I mean it.”

“Kind hearts are more than coronets,” said Anthony vaguely, without a
notion of what he meant by the remark, and wishing fervently it was
lunch time.

“That’s such a beautiful poem, I always think. Do you know much poetry,
Mr. Cade?”