CHAPTER XXIV
Every word of the conversation was quite plain and distinct. Richfordseemed to be very vexed about something, but on the other hand Sartorisappeared to be on the best of terms with himself.
"You tried to get the better of us," he was saying. "You thought thatclever people like ourselves were going to be mere puppets in the play,that we were going to pull your chestnuts for you. You with the brainsof a rabbit, and the intelligence of a tom cat! That low cunning ofyours is all very well in the City, but it is of no use with me. Whereare those diamonds?"
"Those diamonds are so safe that we can't touch them," Richford sneered.
"Very well, my friend. Believe me, we shall know how to act when thetime comes. But you are wasting time here. You should be in EdwardStreet long ago. Edward Street in the Borough; you know the place Imean. The others are there, Reggie and Cora and the rest, to say nothingof the object of our solicitous desires. You follow me?"
"Oh, yes, I follow everything, confound you," Richford growled. "You aretrying to frighten me with your cry of danger. As if I was fool enoughto believe that story."
"You can just please yourself whether you believe it or not," Sartorisreplied. "But the danger is real enough. I have had the salt two daysnow in succession. It is true that it came by post and was not addressedto me here, but it is proof positive of the fact that our yellow friendsare on the right track at last. They may even be outside now. That iswhy I want you to go as far as Edward Street without delay."
Richford seemed to be convinced at last, for he made no reply.
"And you need not worry about your wife for the present," Sartoris wenton. "So long as she _is_ your wife you come in for your share of theplunder when the division takes place. Nor need you let her know thatyou married her for her fortune, and not for her pretty face. Peoplewill be surprised to discover what a rich man Sir Charles really was."
Berrington started with surprise. A great flood of light had been let inon the scene in the last few words of this overheard conversation. Sothere was a large fortune somewhere, and this was at the bottom of thisdark conspiracy. The conversation trailed off presently, and Berringtonheard no more. But his heart was beating now with fierce exultation, forhe had heard enough. Without knowing it, Sir Charles Darryll had been arich man. But those miscreants knew it, and that was the reason why theywere working in this strange way. A door closed somewhere and then therewas silence. It was quite evident that Richford had left the house.
A minute or two later and Berrington got his flash signal at work. Heused it over and over again for an hour or so in the hope that the housewas being watched. A great sigh of satisfaction broke from him presentlywhen he knew the signal was being answered. Once more there was anirritating delay and then the quick tapping of the reply. Field was notfar off, and Field had grasped the scheme. Also he had to send forsomebody to translate the flashing signs. Berrington understood it nowas well as if he had been outside with the police.
He sent his messages through quickly now, and received his replies asregularly. Nor did he forget to impart the information he had discoveredrelative to the house in Edward Street, Borough. On the whole it had notbeen a bad night's work.
A restless desire to be up and doing something gripped Berrington. Hewandered impatiently about the room, listening at the tube from time totime, in the hope of getting something fresh. Down below he could hearthe sharp purring of the electric bell and the shuffle of Sartoris'schair over the floor of the hall. Then there was a quick cry whichstopped with startling suddenness, as if a hand had gripped the throatof somebody who called out with fear.
For a little time after that, silence. Then voices began to boomdownstairs, voices in strange accents that seemed to be demandingsomething. Evidently foreigners of some kind, Berrington thought, as hestrained his ears to catch something definite. Sartoris seemed to bepleading for somebody, and the others were stern and determined. It wassome time before Berrington began to understand what nationality thenewcomers were. A liquid voice was upraised.
"Burmah," Berrington cried. "I thought I knew the tongue. Burmese beyonda doubt. I wish those fellows would not speak quite so quickly. I wishthat I had learned a little more of the language when I had theopportunity. Ah, what was that?"
A familiar phrase had struck home to the old campaigner. One of thenewcomers was saying something about rubies. There were ruby mines inBurmah, some of which had never been explored by white men. Sir CharlesDarryll had been out there in his younger days and so had his friend,the Honourable Edward Decie. Suppose that rubies had something to dowith the papers that Sartoris declared Sir Charles possessed. Berringtonwas feeling now that his weary hours of imprisonment had by no meansbeen wasted. He heard Sartoris's sullen negative, a sound of a blow, anda moan of pain, then silence again.
Perhaps those strangers downstairs were applying torture. Berrington hadheard blood-curdling stories of what the Burmese could do in that way.Bad as he was, Sartoris had never lacked pluck and courage, and he wasnot the man to cry out unless the pain was past endurance. The gutturallanguage returned; it was quite evident that Sartoris was being forcedto do something against his will.
"You shall have it," he said at last. "I'll ask my secretary to bringthe papers down."
There was a shuffling of Sartoris's chair across the floor, and then apuff of wind came up the tube. Very quickly Berrington replaced thewhistle. It flashed across him that Sartoris was going to call him toassist to get rid of those yellow friends downstairs. But how was thatgoing to be done so long as the door was locked?
"Are you there?" Sartoris asked in French, and in a whisper, so low thatBerrington could hardly hear. "Speak to me, Colonel, and use the samelanguage that I am using."
"All right," Berrington replied. "Anything wrong downstairs? What can Ido to help you?"
"Come down as quickly as possible. Take your boots off, and creep intomy study. I am in the hands of two Burmese, members of a society towhich I belonged at one time. They have come to have my life or certaininformation that I decline to give them. You know enough of the East tobe able to appreciate my danger."
The story was more or less of a lie, as Berrington was perfectly wellaware, but there was a large amount of truth in it, nevertheless.Berrington smiled to himself.
"There is one little hitch in the programme," he said. "You seem toforget that I am a prisoner here, behind a door that is protected bysteel."
"I had forgotten that for the moment," Sartoris proceeded rapidly. "Butit is quite possible to open the door from the inside, if you know thesecret. Turn the handle four times to the right quickly and firmly, andthen three times to the left, and the door will open. I dare not say anymore, as these fellows are beginning to look at me suspiciously. Oneminute more, and I have finished. There is an old Dutch bureau at thetop of the stairs by your door. In the second drawer on the right is aloaded revolver. You may want to use it----"
The voice suddenly ceased, and a cry of pain floated up again. All theold fighting spirit raged in Berrington's veins now. He was going to befree, he would have a weapon that he well knew how to use in his hands,and he had obtained information of the most valuable kind. With his handon the knob of the door he followed directions. Four times to the rightand three to the left! A pull, and the door came open.
Berrington was free at last. As soon as he realised that fact hisprofessional caution came back to him. He kicked off his boots, andfinding the Webley revolver, loaded in all chambers, he crept like a catdown the stairs, and looked into the study.
Sartoris lay back in his chair with his hands bound to his sides. Roundhis head the two strangers had strung a piece of knotted whipcord whichone of them was drawing tighter and tighter with the aid of a penknifetwisted in the bandage. The face of the victim was ghastly white, hiseyes rolled, and the great beads poured down his cheeks. Berrington hadheard of that kind of torture before. His blood was boiling now, notthat he had any cause for sympathy with the little man in the chair.
"My God, I can't stand this much longer," Sartoris moaned. "Will thatfellow never come! Or has he failed to understand my instructions? Mybrain is blazing. Help, help."
Berrington strode into the room, resolutely but softly. The littleyellow man who was administering the torture seemed to have his wholeheart in his work; he graduated the torture to a nicety. He seemed tounderstand exactly how much the victim could stand without losing lifeand reason altogether. He was like a doctor with an interesting patient.
"I think you will tell me where to find what we desire?" he saidsmoothly.
"And then we can depart and trouble the gentleman no more," said theother man, who was looking on as coolly as if at some landscape. "Whyput us to all this trouble?"
"I'll tell you," Sartoris moaned. "If you will look in the----God bepraised!"
The last words came with a yell, for the startled eyes had caught sightof Berrington standing grimly in the background. The latter's left handshot out and the Burmese who held the penknife in the cord staggeredacross the room from the force of a blow on the temple, which, had ittaken full effect, would have felled him like an ox.
Before he could recover from the full impact of the blow, Berrington wason the other man. Then the two closed on him as he backed to the walland raised his revolver.
"You see that I am too many for you," he said. "Put down those knives."
For two long cutting knives were gleaming in the light of the electrics.Nothing daunted, the pair made a rush at Berrington, who fired right andleft. He had no intention that the shots should be fatal, but they bothtook effect, one in the shoulder and the other in the arm. When thesmoke cleared away Berrington and Sartoris were alone. A cold stream ofair pouring into the room testified to the fact that the front door hadnot been closed by the miscreants in their escape. Berrington cut thecord around the victim's head and bathed his forehead with water. Alittle brandy seemed to effect something in the way of a cure.
"My God, that was awful, awful," Sartoris moaned. "A second more and Ishould have died. Would you mind shutting the front door? The cold airmakes me feel like death. That's better. I dare say you wonder whatthose fellows were doing here?"
There was just a touch of slyness in the question. Berrington smiled tohimself. He wondered what Sartoris would say if he only knew how muchthe listener had overheard.
"I suppose your sins are finding you out," he said. "They generally do.Personally, I have no curiosity on the subject at all. And I have notthe slightest doubt that your punishment, though pretty severe, was atthe same time well deserved. And now, sir, as fate has given me the whiphand of you, have you any reason to urge why I should stay in this houseany longer? I take it that you are not quite in a position to place yourelectric battery at work from this room as you did from the other. Ifyou like to----"
Berrington paused, as there was a loud knocking at the door. Sartoris'spale face grew still paler as he listened. Then he forced a smile to hispallid lips.
"Don't take any heed," he said eagerly. "Let them go away again underthe impression that nobody is at the house. Let them knock all night ifthey like."
But Berrington was already half-way to the door.
The Slave of Silence Page 24