Bengal Fire by Lawrence G. Blochman

Bengal Fire by Lawrence G. Blochman

Author:Lawrence G. Blochman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2023-10-15T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Sixteen

A TRAIL OF BLOOD

“You should have stopped in front, where I left you, Robbins,” said Inspector Prike to his deputy in the compound behind the Anglo-Bengal Times composing-room. “Then perhaps we shouldn’t have lost both of them.”

“Both, inspector?”

“Mr. Marvin was calling on Rufus Dormer when I arrived.”

“That redhead again?” The Deputy Inspector’s waxed mustaches worked like the feelers of a nervous beetle. “And you thought he’d mind you like a good boy, and go home to sleep!”

“Doubtless he’s a somnambulist, Robbins,” said Prike. “At any rate, your abandoning your post has allowed him to make a leisurely exit by the front door.”

“I’ll get right after him, inspector.”

“I’d suggest you look for him in Alipore—or Guru’s Lane.”

“Why Guru’s Lane, inspector?” Robbins asked.

“For the same reason, Robbins,” said Prike, “that you or I, were we twenty years younger and knew that a fascinating and somewhat mysterious young woman with hair the color of ripe jute was stopping at Mrs. Pereira’s boarding-house, might go to Guru’s Lane.”

“Cherchez la femme, eh, inspector? So you think that American girl is at the bottom of all this homicide?”

“I can’t say—yet,” Prike answered. “However, as far as I have been able to determine, Lee Marvin was not one of the late Mr. Hoyt’s blackmail victims. All his actions for the past thirty-six hours are apparently motivated by one of two things: an understandable interest in Miss Evelyn Branch, and a desire to increase his prestige with his firm by securing the Bosa pearl for Orfèvre, Ltd. I suggest you drop around at Guru’s Lane, Robbins. I’m going to Alipore, myself.”

“To the Maharajah of Jharnpur’s palace?”

“Right.”

“Still think the Maharajah’s nao-ratna is a missing clue, inspector?”

“Practically certain of it. But I don’t expect to find the nao-ratna at Alipore, Robbins. If one of the Maharajah’s men had taken it from Marvin, I hardly think I would have found Chitterji Rao going through Hoyt’s safe this afternoon. But I think, Robbins, that I might find Rufus Dormer at Alipore!”

“Dormer? How’s that, inspector?”

“Rufus Dormer is after money,” said Prike. “He told me this evening he needed cash. Since he’s been associated with Hoyt, he would normally try to squeeze out a few rupees from the ex-victims of Hoyt’s extortion industry. That would explain his return to the Grand Hotel this evening, to see Julius. Putting myself in his place, I go further down the list of Hoyt’s clients, and come first to the name of the Maharajah of Jharnpur. I assume, for the moment, that Dormer has done the same. So I’m going to Alipore.”

Inspector Prike had been to the Alipore Palace before, both socially and professionally. He knew the Maharajah of Jharnpur to be a very dark, very tall, very conceited Hindu who spoke English fluently, as a result of three years at Cambridge perfecting his cricket, voice modulation, tea-table etiquette and other branches of Western culture essential to an Oriental potentate. Prike also knew that His Highness was wealthy enough to maintain, in addition to his winter palace



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