They could have done with Piper to lead them to the nearest staircase, but with the aid of Tom’s torch, they found it. Only when he saw the door at the top did Alec remember that it was kept locked to bar the public from the basement.
In the lead, Tom, his weariness forgotten now that an arrest was in sight, turned the handle. The door opened. Maybe Steadman had left it unlocked to facilitate his escape.
“Stay here, Culver,” Alec ordered in a low voice.
He and Tom emerged into the North Hall and paused to listen. Not a sound. The massive building felt like a mausoleum—as indeed it was, for the corpses and bare bones of countless creatures.
“I bet Steadman wears rubber-soled shoes, Chief.” No morbid fancies for Tom Tring, the ever-practical. “He’d never have got away with it else.”
“Yes. Keep your eyes peeled. The dinosaur gallery’s the obvious place to try first. I’m suspicious of that new skeleton he’s been setting up.”
“Salty puss,” said Tom with a muted chuckle.
“You take this side.”
The elephantine sentinel loomed through the fog-hazed twilight of the Central Hall. “The vasty hall of death”: The phrase sprang unbidden into Alec’s mind. Matthew Arnold,Requiescat, he supplied automatically. Someone’s spirit “doth inherit the vasty hall …” Whose?
Strew on her daisies, daisies, and never a spray of yew. A girl, then. A nameless girl.
But of course it was roses, not daisies. Not Daisy. A prickle of unease shivered down his spine. Shecouldn’tbe here, not on a foggy Sunday night, her research finished, as she herself had told him.
Wise Tom, to eschew fancies. Yet that was why he’d never advanced beyond the rank of sergeant. In Murder Squad parlance, he hadn’t the “nose.” Alec had. Something was wrong.
Ahead, the electric light in the police post made a circle of cheer, though it would have been more cheering if any of the officers had been there. They must be on patrol somewhere about the place. Alec was not sure whether to hope they came upon Steadman or not.
As Tom joined him, he glanced at the panel which controlled all the lights in the museum—one could not have visiting children messing about with switches. It must cost a fortune to light the place. At night, he knew, only a few dim lights were used, because of the expense. Given the evening’s early darkness, why had they not been switched on?
“I wouldn’t mess with that, Chief.” Tom might not have the nose, but he sometimes read Alec’s thoughts.
“No, it’s far too complicated,” he agreed reluctantly, “and sudden light might warn Steadman. Let’s go.”
Though neither was an Ernie Piper, after studying the plans and reconnoitring the territory, they could have found their way in complete darkness. As they reached the arch to the reptile gallery, Alec whispered, “You go round through the cephalopod gallery, Tom. Remember Steadman has keys. He can get away by the door to the General Library and those stairs to the basement. We may have secured the back door, but I’d rather not have to hunt for him down there.”
Alec waited a couple of minutes to let Tom reach the connecting archway. Then he crossed the reptile gallery and peered into the dinosaur gallery. The far end was lost in shadows. Scanning the nearer part, he saw a dark heap on the floor some twenty yards away, with two whitish objects lying beside it.
As he moved to investigate, a scraping sound came from the other end. Tom’s bulk flitted across the centre to a point between the source of the noise and the library door, then receded into the shadows.
Hurrying to join him, Alec stopped dead as the dark heap sat up and said with shaky indignation, in Daisy’s voice, “The Grand Duke hit me!”
“Daisy, it’s not …” Alec babbled, dropping to his knees beside her, “it can’t … What the bloody hell are you doing here?”
From the far corner of the gallery came a crash—bang—thump—groan, followed by Tom Tring’s boom: “James Steadman, in the name of the law, I arrest you for larceny. Other charges may be preferred against you. I must warn you that you have the right not to speak, but anything you choose to say will be taken down and may be used in evidence.” Handcuffs clicked.
“It’s not what it looks like,” squeaked Steadman.
“The Grand Duke hit you?” queried Alec, his arms around Daisy.
“Everything under control here, Chief,” Tom reported. “What’s going on? Did I hear Miss Dalrymple?”
“She says the Grand Duke hit her.”
“That’s right,” Steadman confirmed in a shaky voice. “It was the Grand Duke. I saw everything. I was just collecting the stolen jewels to hand over to the police.”
“Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“Yes. Sort of. My head aches frightfully.”
“Mine’s beginning to. What happened?”
