CHAPTER 17-2

　　Let‘s see – the train was stopped at 5.30 a.m. Canon Pennyfather left Bertram’s Hotel notlong after 3 a.m. Yes, it could be done. If he were driven there – say – in a racing car…”

　　"So we‘re back againto Ladislaus Malinowski!"

　　The A.C. looked at his blotting pad doodles. "What a bulldog you are, Fred," he said.

　　Half an hour later Chief-Inspector Davy was enteringa quiet and rather shabby office.

　　The large man behind the desk rose and put forward ahand.

　　"Chief-Inspector Davy? Do sit down, he said. Doyou care for a cigar?"

　　Chief-Inspector Davy shook his head.

　　"I must apologise," hesaid, in his deep countryman’s voice, "for wasting your valuable time."

　　Mr. Robinson smiled. He was a fat man and very welldressed. He had a yellow face, his eyes were dark and sad looking and his mouth was largeand generous. He frequently smiled to display over-large teeth. "The better to eat you with," thoughtChief-Inspector Davy irrelevantly. His English was perfect and without accent but he wasnot an Englishman. Father wondered, as many others had wondered before him, whatnationality Mr. Robinson really was.

　　"Well, what can I do for you?"

　　"I‘d like to know,"said Chief-Inspector Davy, "who ownsBertram’s Hotel."

　　The expression on Mr. Robinson‘s face did not change. He showed no surprise at hearing the name nor did heshow recognition. He said thoughtfully:

　　"You want to know who owns Bertram’s Hotel. That,I think, is in Pond Street, off Piccadilly."

　　"Quite right, sir."

　　"I have occasionally stayed there myself. A quietplace. Well run."

　　"Yes," said Father, "particularly well run."

　　"And you want to know who owns it? Surely that iseasy to ascertain?"

　　There was a faint irony behind his smile.

　　"Through the usual channels, you mean? Oh yes.Father took a small piece of paper from his pocket and read out three or four names andaddresses."

　　"I see," said Mr.Robinson, "someone has taken quite a lot of trouble.Interesting. And you come to me?"

　　"If anyone knows, you would, sir."

　　"Actually I do not know. But it is true that Ihave ways of obtaining information. One has –” he shruggedhis very large, fat shoulders – "one has contacts."

　　"Yes, sir," saidFather with an impassive face.

　　Mr. Robinson looked at him, then he picked up thetelephone on his desk.

　　"Sonia? Get me Carlos." He waited a minute or two then spoke again. "Carlos?"He spoke rapidly half a dozen sentences in a foreign language. It waslanguage that Father could even recognise.

　　Father could converse in good British French. He hada smattering of Italian and he could make a guess at plain travellers‘ German. He knew the sounds of Spanish, Russian and Arabic, though he couldnot understand them. this language was none of those. At a faint guess he hazarded itmight be Turkish or Persian or Armenian, but even of that he was by no means sure. Mr.Robinson replaced the receiver.

　　"I do not think," hesaid genially, "that we shall have long to wait. I aminterested, you know. Very much interested. I have occasionally wondered myself –”

　　Father looked inquiring.

　　"About Bertram’s Hotel," said Mr. Robinson. "Financially, you know. Onewonders how it can pay. However, it has never been any of my business. And one appreciates–” He shrugged his shoulders, - "acomfortable hostelry with an unusually talented personnel and staff…. Yes, I have wondered." He looked at Father. "You know how and why?"

　　"Not yet," saidFather, "but I mean to."

　　"There are several possibilities," said Mr. Robinson, thoughtfully. "It is likemusic, you know. Only so many notes to the octave, yet one can combine them in – what is it – several million different ways? Amusician told me once that you do not get the same tune twice. Most interesting."

　　There was a slight buzz on his desk and he picked upthe receiver once more.

　　"Yes? Yes, you have been very prompt. I am pleasedI see. Oh! Amsterdam, yes…. Ah….Thank you…. Yes. You will spell that? Good."

　　He wrote rapidly on a pad at his elbow.

　　"I hope this will be useful to you," he said, as he tore off the sheet and passed it across the table to Father,who read the name out loud. "Wilhelm Hoffman."

　　"Nationality Swiss," saidMr. Robinson. "Though not, I would say, born in Switzerland.Has a good deal of influence in Banking circles and though keeping strictly on the rightside of the law, he has been behind a great many – questionabledeals. He operates solely on the Continent, not in this country."

　　"Oh."

　　"But he has a brother," said Mr. Robinson. "Robert Hoffman. Living inLondon – a diamond merchant – mostrespectable business – His wife is Dutch – He also has offices in Amsterdam – Your peoplemay know about him. As I say, he deals mainly in diamonds, but he is a very rich man, andhe owns a lot of property, not usually in his own man. Yes, he is behind quite a lot ofenterprises. He and his brother are the real owners of Bertram‘s Hotel."

　　"Thank you, sir." Chief-InspectorDavy rose to his feet. "I needn’ttell you that I‘m much obliged to you. It’s wonderful," he added, allowing himself to showmore enthusiasm than was normal.

　　"That I should know?" inquiredMr. Robinson, giving one of his larger smiles. "But this isone of my specialities. Information. I like to know. That is why you came to me, is itnot?"

　　"Well," saidChief-Inspector Davy, "we do know about you. The Home Office.The Special Branch and all the rest of it." He added almostnaively, "It took a bit of nerve on my part to approach you."

　　Again Mr. Robinson smiled.

　　"I find you an interesting personality,Chief-Inspector Davy," he said. "Iwish you success in whatever you are undertaking."

　　"Thank you, sir. I think I shall need it. By theway, these two brothers, would you say they were violent men?"

　　"Certainly not," saidMr. Robinson. "It would be quite against their policy. Thebrothers Hoffman do not apply violence in business matters. They have other methods thatserve them better. Year by year, I would say, they get steadily richer, or so myinformation from Swiss Banking circles tells me."

　　"It‘s a useful place,Switzerland," said Chief-Inspector Davy.

　　"Yes, indeed. What we should all do without it Ido not know! So much rectitude. Such a fine business sense! Yes, we business men must allbe very grateful to Switzerland. I myself," he added, "have also a high opinion of Amsterdam." He lookedhard at Davy, then smiled again, and the Chief-Inspector left.

　　When he got back to headquarters again, he found anote awaiting him.

　　Canon Pennyfather has turned up – safe if not sound. Apparently was knocked down by a car at Milton St. Johnand has concussion.