He came over and faced Bray. I thought there was a distinct note of
hostility in his voice.
"Checkmate, Inspector!" he said. Bray made no reply. He sat there
staring up at the colonel, his face turned to stone.
"The scarab pin," went on Hughes, "is not yet forthcoming. We are tied
for honors, my friend. You have your confession, but I have one to match
it."
"All this is beyond me," snapped Bray.
"A bit beyond me, too," the colonel answered. "Here are two people who
wish us to believe that on the evening of Thursday last, at half after
six of the clock, each sought out Captain Fraser-Freer in his rooms and
murdered him."
He walked to the window and then wheeled dramatically.
"The strangest part of it all is," he added, "that at six-thirty
o'clock last Thursday evening, at an obscure restaurant in
Soho--Frigacci's--these two people were having tea together!"
I must admit that, as the colonel calmly offered this information, I
suddenly went limp all over at a realization of the endless maze of
mystery in which we were involved. The woman gave a little cry and
Lieutenant Fraser-Freer leaped to his feet.
"How the devil do you know that?" he cried.
"I know it," said Colonel Hughes, "because one of my men happened to be
having tea at a table near by. He happened to be having tea there for
the reason that ever since the arrival of this lady in London, at the
request of--er--friends in India, I have been keeping track of her every
move; just as I kept watch over your late brother, the captain."
Without a word Lieutenant Fraser-Freer dropped into a chair and buried
his face in his hands.
"I'm sorry, my son," said Hughes. "Really, I am. You made a heroic
effort to keep the facts from coming out--a man's-size effort it was.
But the War Office knew long before you did that your brother had
succumbed to this woman's lure--that he was serving her and Berlin, and
not his own country, England."
Fraser-Freer raised his head. When he spoke there was in his voice an
emotion vastly more sincere than that which had moved him when he made
his absurd confession.
"The game's up," he said. "I have done all I could. This will kill my
father, I am afraid. Ours has been an honorable name, Colonel; you know
that--a long line of military men whose loyalty to their country has
never before been in question. I thought my confession would and the
whole nasty business, that the investigations would stop, and that
I might be able to keep forever unknown this horrible thing about
him--about my brother."