The Dark Palace--Murder and mystery in London, 1914 by R.N. Morris Read Free Book Online Page A

– with a peculiar ugly relish that seemed to match the weather. As soon as Quinn had briefed his sergeants, Inchball announced that there was a German barber’s off the Strand that he had had his suspicions about for some time. Quinn attempted to divert his sergeant from what seemed to be an irrational fixation with this particular barber by instructing him to draw up a list of all German businesses, associations and institutions in London. He had some idea that the exercise might enable Inchball to put his suspicions in context, and lead him to an understanding of their arbitrariness. Sifting through various volumes of Kelly’s London Directory and Post Office directories certainly served to reinforce Inchball’s xenophobia. But the focus of it was still directed almost exclusively against the hapless barber.
    â€˜All these bleedin’ Germans ’ave to get their ’air cut somewhere, don’ they? Stands to reason. I’ll bet you anythin’ they all go to this feller off the Strand. Dortmunder. That’s ’is name. Fritz Dortmunder. I mean. Summink like that. I ask you. If that ain’t the name of a German, I don’t know what is.’
    â€˜I don’t doubt Herr Dortmunder is German, Inchball,’ said Quinn. ‘The question is, is he a spy?’
    â€˜He’s more than that! He’s a bleedin’ spy master. See, all the other spies come to ’im to get their ’air cut, don’ they! I’m certain of it. It’s the perfect cover. People comin’ and goin’ all the time without drawin’ suspicion. Chattin’ away in that lingo of theirs. Who knows what they’re talkin’ about? Coastal defences in Kent? The Royal Navy’s new submarine design? Inland lines of communication? Could be anythin’. We don’t know. That’s the point. Why don’ you let me go there, guv? I’ll find out what he’s up to.’
    â€˜And how do you propose to do that, Inchball?’
    â€˜I shall masquerade … as a gentleman in need of a haircut.’
    â€˜And then?’
    â€˜Well … and then we shall see.’
    â€˜I don’t quite understand, Inchball.’
    â€˜We shall see what we shall see, guv. I know how to keep my eyes open, don’t you worry.’
    â€˜For what in particular will you be on the look-out?’
    â€˜What would you say, guv, if a man who was not in need of a haircut – nor indeed a shave! – went into a barber’s, sat down in a barber’s chair, and consented to have a sheet thrown over him and a pair of scissors taken to his neck? This a man, mind, who is in need of neither haircut nor shave. What would you say to that, guv?’
    Quinn kept his counsel as to what he would say to that.
    â€˜You would say it was suspicious, guv. And you’d be right. You could even go so far as to say it was mighty suspicious.’
    â€˜How do you know that is what you will see?’
    â€˜I already seen it! Yes! With my own bleedin’ eyes! And shall I tell you where I saw it? At Fritz bleedin’ Dortmunder’s. That’s where.’
    Quinn was not entirely sure that he believed Inchball’s tale but in the end he approved the initiative. It would at least keep his sergeant busy for a while. And besides, it was true that Inchball needed a haircut.
    Macadam’s enthusiasm for kinematography showed no signs of abating. By the middle of Tuesday, Quinn had had enough. He snatched up the copy of the Kinematograph Enthusiast’s Weekly from which Macadam was fond of reading aloud. The chosen extracts usually propounded the benefits of this or that camera. On the back page, there was an advertisement for the Moy and Bastie Kineto, the latest model to catch the sergeant’s eye. ‘Very well, Macadam. Put in a procurement application for one of those and we’ll see where it gets you. It will have to go up to the top, you know. I