‘Brand, I’m surprised at you! That’s just hypocrisy and you know it! You know as well as I do that what I propose and what we’ve been doing are identical—except for the place in which we shall do it. We’ve been trying to pick their brains here, now we shall try to do it there. That’s all the difference.’
Brand was beginning a protest, but King broke in fiercely. ‘And what about their stealing our jobs?’ he queried. ‘They were doing quite well out of their concern. We were all making our living comfortably and satisfactorily. Then they see how they can make some more. Do they think about us? No, we may starve, so that they can double their share. What about that? Do you think it’s not legitimate to protect ourselves against that sort of thing?’
Again Brand tried to speak and again King broke in. ‘Well, there it is,’ he declared with a gesture as if he was holding out some imaginary offering. ‘It’s up to you now. I can’t do this thing by myself. I must have help and there’s no one but you. Will you come in and save not only yourself and me, but everyone in the Joymount Works? Or will you stay out because of a scruple—a false scruple, mind you—and let us all be ruined? Come now, Brand. If it doesn’t matter to you personally, remember all those to whom it’s life and death, and don’t put yourself and your scruples, if you have any, before them.’
Brand was silent. This proposal of King’s was utterly unexpected, and he scarcely knew what to say. He did not set up to be in any way straighter or more moral than the next man, but he did draw the line at burglary. Besides for burglary you could get the devil of a sentence. Years!
But was this burglary? If they stole nothing tangible would it be burglary? King said not. Was King right? On thinking it over, Brand wasn’t sure. Would they really be guilty of more than trespass?
The more he thought of it, the more he hated the idea. But, he asked himself, did his own mere likes and dislikes matter in such a case? Did the greatest good of the greatest number not demand from him the sacrifice of his own preference?
Brand saw that it was not a choice of good or evil that faced him. It was a choice between two evils. A somewhat tarnished conscience and the chance of prison on the one hand: on the other, ruin for all his friends at the works.
Ruin also for himself! Why should be throw away the rest of his life for a scruple, and a doubtful scruple at that?
King’s voice once again broke into his thoughts. ‘I forgot to say, though it is a bit important—I forgot to say that if we carry out the scheme I propose, there is not the slightest chance of it ever becoming known. I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’ve got a watertight plan. So you needn’t be afraid of that.’
It was this last argument that really tipped the scale with Brand. He did not give way all at once. For an hour and more they paced backwards and forwards, he objecting, King protesting. But at last he agreed. After all, if it wasn’t quite straight, it wasn’t so very crooked. And it wouldn’t hurt the Chayle people: there was ample room for both firms.
‘Good man,’ said King, when he announced his decision. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let us all down. Now do you realise that it’s after four o’clock? Let’s get to bed and we’ll talk about this further in the morning. And I needn’t say, not a word to a soul.’
It was not till after lunch next day that the matter was again referred to. King, having seen that his two assistants, Radcliff and Endicott, were fully occupied, beckoned Brand into his office.
It was a tiny match-boarded place with a large window looking south towards Southampton Water. It was not very clean and not at all tidy. Books and catalogues had overflowed the shelves on to the desk and floor. There were papers everywhere. King cleared a chair for his guest by the simple expedient of tipping it sideways.
‘Now,’ he began, ‘let me tell you what I’ve done and then we’ll hold a council of war.’
He lit a cigarette, then tilting back his chair, he stretched a long arm into a corner and picked up a rolled plan.
‘This,’ he went on, spreading it on the desk, ‘is a section of the twenty-five-inch Ordnance map. You see where we are. This land is the north-western coast of the Isle of Wight, and this water above it is, of course, the Solent. This is Thorness Bay, between three and four miles west of Cowes along the coast. These buildings on the shore of Thorness Bay are the Chayle Works. You see their position, on the flat ground of a little valley between low hills, and opposite the estuary of the Beaulieu River. Incidentally, as you know, they are about nine miles from here.’
‘Well, I ought to know that.’
‘Of course. I simply want to begin at the beginning. You also know the works. You’ve seen them a thousand times from the Solent, but have you ever been close to them?’
‘Now you mention it, I don’t think I have. Not within a mile, I should say. With the launch you cross the mouths of bays. Different to tacking about with sails.’
‘I thought you mightn’t have. Well, I’ve gone in close and had a good look. And the first interesting thing I saw was that there’s a high wall all round the place. Incidentally I noticed that they’ve made a tiny harbour and there are usually two or three small steamers or motor boats in it.’
‘I’ve seen that myself.’
‘Quite. Well, one evening I went over to Cowes and walked out after dusk. I went right down to the works and found that the place is like a medieval fort. There are only two gates, one opening on to the end of the pier, and the other to the approach road.’
‘Secret process all right,’ Brand suggested.
‘Yes, and I got something more interesting still. In conversation in a nearby pub I found out that the wall was new. It was built three years ago.’
‘So dating the putting down of the plant for the new cement?’
‘Of course. Naturally I wanted to see inside, but I couldn’t manage it. So I did the next best thing. The ground rises on the Cowes side—clay cliffs, you know, and there are hedges and shrubs which provide cover. I went back the next evening with some food and a rug, slept in the launch in Cowes Harbour and before it was light went ashore and walked to Chayle. By the time dawn was breaking I was on this higher ground. From there I could see the buildings. I checked them up with those shown on the Ordnance map, and found that two new ones had been erected since the map was made. I had a pretty good glass, and the walls of these two buildings looked new. I assumed they were built at the same time as the surrounding wall, and contained the secret we wanted.’
‘You didn’t stay there all day, surely?’
‘As a matter of fact, I didn’t. I watched till lunch time and I saw some interesting enough things. First I saw the staff arriving, the labourers first and then later the office lot. They were very like our own crowd, and I could almost guess their various jobs from their appearance. A very small night squad left, together with a tall lame man with a basket; obviously the night watchman. I noticed also that though there was a fairly continual stream of motor lorries in and out of the works, the entrance gates were kept closed. They were specially opened for each vehicle, and closed again after it had passed. And at the pier, where they were loading bags by a decauville tramway, they had a man at the gate all the time.’
‘They’re taking no chances.’
‘Are they? Well, after that I became a Scots visitor, come to the Island for my health. I discoursed to all and sundry in the bars of any pubs I could find, until later in the afternoon, I had a bit of luck. Who should come into a pub but the night watchman.’
‘How did you know him?’
‘I thought it was he. I had taken a pretty good squint at him with my glasses. I got talking to him and stood him a pint. He was a taciturn devil, but a second pint loosened his tongue. He was the watchman, and he told me a good deal about the works. I needn’t trouble you with just how I pumped him. He told me that about three years ago the firm had put in some new kilns. It was then they built the wall and the two new buildings. The buildings were for the kilns, but he obviously didn’t understand
the details, and in any case I couldn’t be too curious. They were doing well and putting out a lot of stuff, and the wages of everyone had been raised. I thought that was enough about the works and I turned the conversation on to himself. He told me his name—Clay—and about his parentage and early life, all complete. Incidentally, he is now entirely alone in the world. He had driven a lorry for the firm; he said said there was nothing on wheels that he couldn’t drive. Some three years ago he had had an accident. It wasn’t his fault, so he said: some blinking fool had come charging out of a drive just before him. He had been hurt internally by the wheel and couldn’t work. They had made him night watchman and he had a not too bad screw and was comfortable enough.’
‘Interesting, if not exactly relevant,’ Brand declared. ‘’Pon my soul, King, you’ve not done so badly. You’ve got about everything—except what we want.’
‘Quite,’ King admitted drily, ‘and I suppose you now’ll agree that to get that we must have a look inside those new buildings? And that’s what I want to do—tonight.’
‘Suppose they’re locked?’
King shrugged. ‘Our first snag is the wall,’ he pointed out. ‘We’ll get over the wall tonight. If after that we come to a locked door, well, I’ve thought about that. We may be able to deal with it. And if not, there may be a window. Now, Brand, in this thing you’re taking instructions from me. Go home now and get a sleep and after dinner we’ll set off.’
‘I don’t want a sleep. I’m quite fresh.’
‘You won’t be in the middle of the night. You want a sleep and you’re going to have it. Go along, don’t make trouble, there’s a good chap.’
Brand, knowing in his heart that King was right, went. He lay down on his bed, and in what seemed about ten seconds, but was really over four hours, King woke him to say dinner was ready.
4
The First Attempt
About ten that night King and Brand left the boarding-house, having put up the usual story that they were going to work late at the office and didn’t know when they’d get back. The weather was fairly suitable for their purpose. It was fine and calm, though a little too bright. The moon was full, but happily this was to some extent neutralised by a heavily clouded sky and a haze over the water. There would be ample light for anything they might require, but they would have to be careful about being seen.
King led the way across the boarding-house yard to a small shed which he used as a workshop. He was a handy fellow and a good carpenter and metal worker. This shed was to him a holy of holies, even more sacred than his laboratory at the works.
‘We’ve got to take one or two things,’ he explained. ‘What do you think of that? I’ve been making it for the last week.’
‘That’ was a ladder, partly wooden and partly rope, very strong and very light, and in its design bearing traces of King’s ingenious mind. When erected it took the shape of an A without the crossbar. One side of the A was of wood, folding into two, and stretching to about fourteen feet when extended. To the top was fixed the rope ladder, of about the same length and forming the other side of the A.
‘You see,’ King pointed out, ‘when it’s folded there’s plenty of room for it on the launch. When we get to the wall we extend it and it reaches to the top. We go up, throw the rope ladder over, and that gets us down the other side. See?’
Brand paid his due meed of admiration. He had got over his scruples and was looking forward like a boy to the adventure.
‘Well, you take it, will you? I’ll bring the rest of the kit.’
Brand shouldered the ladder, which was surprisingly light, and King having picked up a package which lay ready, they left the shed.
‘I suggest we don’t take the ordinary path to the works,’ King said in a low voice. ‘If we met anyone our baggage might require explanation. Let’s go by the shore.’
To Brand this seemed obvious wisdom. They went down to the beach and pushed along the rough grass just above high-water mark. Here they were unlikely to be seen, and the grass of course would not retain footprints.
‘What have you got in the package?’ Brand asked as they trudged along.
‘Pad of old sacks to lay over possible glass on the wall,’ King returned. ‘Four torches, two for use, two spare. Masks in case someone should see us. Bunch of skeleton keys for various kinds of locks. Gloves so as not to leave fingerprints. That’s the lot. Have I forgotten anything?’
Brand thought not. He was, indeed, rather impressed by the completeness of the preparations. One thing at least was evident—that King had had the expedition in his mind for a much longer time than he had led Brand to believe. He said so.
‘Why, yes,’ King admitted coolly. ‘From the very first I had to consider a possible failure of the mere chemical investigation. But I couldn’t consider complete failure. Some scheme of this kind seemed to be indicated.’
How typical of King! thought Brand. If success in anything he undertook was humanly possible, King would succeed!
They were now in the neighbourhood of the wharf. Owing to the works’ sheltered position on the Hamble Estuary, the building of a harbour had not been considered necessary. A small wharf of open-work ferroconcrete piles had simply been erected parallel with the shore, and a little dredging in front of it had provided depth for the small craft which used it. At the end of the wharf was the boathouse belonging to the works, in which Brand and King kept their respective launches. The dredging had been carried round the end of the wharf so that there was access to the boathouse at all states of the tide.
‘We’ll take your launch,’ said King. ‘It’s the smaller and more silent of the two.’
Now they trod softly lest they should be heard by the crew of the little coaster moored alongside. Gently unlocking the boathouse door, they bestowed their stuff on Brand’s launch, a squat craft with a broad square stern, like a fifteen-foot length cut from the bows of some larger boat. King added a light pair of sculls, but when Brand was about to cast off, he stopped him.
‘Not yet, old son,’ he whispered. ‘We’ve got to have an alibi. All the best criminals do it. Come up to the works.’
They walked round to the road entrance of the works, which like Chayle, were also surrounded by a wall, though in this case only four feet high. There they let themselves in. The watchman saw them and came forward.
‘Good night, Taylor,’ said King. ‘We’re going to work late—perhaps all night. You needn’t trouble about us. We’ll let ourselves out when we’re done.’
The old man touched his cap. ‘Good night, gentlemen,’ he answered. ‘You’re busy these times?’
‘A special job,’ King called back. ‘Thank goodness, it’ll soon be finished.’
Reaching the laboratory, King locked the door behind them, switched on the light and lowered the blinds. Then they passed into his private office, also locking its two doors, from the laboratory and passage respectively. King here switched off the light and got out his torch.
‘We’ll leave the light on in the lab,’ he said, ‘and if it’s seen, it’ll be supposed we’re there. Here’s our way out. I fixed it up this afternoon.’
As he spoke he took a rope from a cupboard. One end was already made fast to a cleat which had been screwed inside the cupboard, and every couple of feet it had a knot. He threw the other end out of the window.
‘Down you go,’ he said. ‘You needn’t be afraid: it’s amply long enough.’
‘I say, King, you’ve thought this out all right,’ Brand admitted, as he climbed on the window sill and gingerly lowered himself down.
The laboratory was on the first floor of the office block, and a climb of some twenty feet brought him to the ground. He let go the rope. For a few seconds it shook violently, and then King stood beside him.
‘If we go back in the morning the same way, pull up the rope, and leave by the door, Taylor’ll swear we’ve been in the building all night. Radcliff and Endicott will swear to it too, for I’ve done some work that the
y don’t know about, and if I produce it tomorrow, they’ll say we must have worked all night to get it finished.’
Again Brand complimented him and they turned towards the shore. The ground on which they had alighted was hard and would not leave footprints, and as there was nothing to bring Taylor or any other person to that part of the yard, the chances of the rope being seen were negligible. They reached the wall, slipped over it, and tiptoed silently down to the boathouse.
‘We’ll give her a good push out,’ King whispered, ‘and she’ll float clear of the wharf. Then we’ll use the sculls. Steady a moment till I fit these mufflings. No lights, of course.’
Having shipped the rowlocks and bushed them with soft rags, they pushed off. Without a sound they floated under the counter of the steamer and out on to the dark water beyond. Then Brand dropped in the sculls and pulled silently away.
Not till they had gone a mile and were well into Southampton Water did they turn on their lights and start their engine. They kept inshore out of the channel through which the great liners nosed their way up to Southampton, passing to starboard of the Calshot Lightship and the Hill Head Buoy, and only coming as it were into the open when they crossed Cowes Roads from the West Bramble Buoy to Egypt Point. Then they again hugged the shore till they came off Gurnard Point. There King, between free snatches of the ‘Marche Militaire’, stopped the motor and turned out the lights.
‘We’ve only another mile to go,’ he explained. ‘We may as well do it with the sculls. Let’s put on our masks and gloves first in case we forget them.’
It was thicker here, which in a way was all to the good. So far they had had no trouble, being able to pick up the lights through the haze. Brand did not like the look of the weather. It might easily thicken up enough to make getting back difficult. However, there was no use in meeting trouble half way. With the muffled sculls Brand was able to pull in almost complete silence. The boat floated easily along. There was no wind and scarcely any swell. The only sound was the faint jabbling of the tiny wavelets on the bows. Presently King spoke.
Mystery on Southampton Water Page 4