The Bulldog Drummond Megapack

by H. C. McNeile

  “All the better for us,” said Gregoroff cynically.

  “Agreed. But one can wonder at a state of affairs even while one profits by it.”

  “You’ll be talking about the happy hours you spent at your mother’s knee soon,” sneered Gregoroff, and Veight frowned. Unscrupulous blackguard though he was, there was a streak of the genuine artist in him, which at times recoiled with disgust from the crude inhumanity of the Russian. But he said no more and they drove on in silence.

  At length, just as they reached the last village before their destination, the sun rose. The actual house was about a mile farther on, and soon it came in sight, standing in its sheet of reed-fringed water. And with it Veight’s mood vanished: he was once more the man of action.

  “Let’s get it clear now, Gregoroff,” he said. “We want a few hours’ sleep; then we must get down to things. The sooner we get up north the better, so we’ll have a conference with Meredith as early as possible. He or Belfage will have to make arrangements for the caravan, and it will be best not to bring it to the house. We don’t want old Hoskins to know a minute before it is necessary. In fact he needn’t know until we actually come back with the two men. I will fix up the aeroplane for us; if I can’t do it in any other way I’ll buy one and hire a pilot. I shall say that it is wanted for an important business deal, and that it must be ready to start at a moment’s notice.”

  “We, of course, say nothing about Kalinsky,” said Gregoroff, as he backed the car into the garage.

  “Good God! no. Are you mad? We hint at a possible buyer, to whom we will go accompanied by Meredith. And it is vital they should know nothing about the aeroplane.”

  Gregoroff produced a latch-key as they walked over the drawbridge.

  “I follow,” he said. “I wonder if that damned man Waldron has cracked yet.”

  He opened the door, and they stepped into the hall. In front of them the staircase led up to a mullioned window through which the sunlight was streaming. In the room to their right the remains of a meal littered the table, and Gregoroff entering poured himself out a whisky and soda.

  The house was in complete silence as Veight went up the stairs and he paused by the window to look out. The whole expanse of the mere lay in front of him, and for a while he stood there staring idly across the water. The morning was still: in the undergrowth that stretched down to the edge not a leaf stirred. And he was on the point of going on up to his bedroom when he stiffened. The top of one of the bushes fringing the water had shaken.

  “Gregoroff,” he called softly. “Gregoroff—come here.”

  The Russian joined him.

  “What’s the matter?” he demanded.

  “Watch the bank just beyond the water-logged boat,” said Veight, and even as he spoke the bush shook again.

  “There’s somebody hiding there,” he continued softly.

  “It might be an animal,” said Gregoroff, but Veight shook his head.

  “The undergrowth is far too dense for a sheep or a cow,” he said. “And only a big animal would make that bush shake. It is a human being. We must go and investigate.”

  Silently they let themselves out of the front door and crossed the drawbridge. Then they followed the narrow path that skirted the pool. They were screened from view, but progress was slow. In places the path petered out completely and they had to force their way through brambles, but at length Veight, who was leading, held up his hand. They were just abreast of the boat.

  They paused, listening intently, but save for the bird chorus they could hear nothing. Then very cautiously, a step at a time, they pushed forward. Suddenly, with an agitated squawk, a moorhen scuttered across the water, and Veight cursed under his breath. Then all its friends followed suit, and the possibility of surprise was gone.

  “Come on,” said Veight. “Damn those birds.”

  He pushed forward rapidly, regardless now of noise, with the Russian just behind him.

  “Here’s the spot,” he cried. “It was just beside that coloured shrub. This is the actual bush that was shaking. And,” he muttered, gripping Gregoroff’s arm, “animals don’t eat sandwiches.”

  On the ground at their feet were the remains of a meal, and they both bent down to examine them. Some ham and bread; the core of an apple; a piece of paper and some string.

  “The devil take it,” said Veight softly. “That apple core hasn’t turned brown yet, so whoever it is he’s only just gone.”

  Once again they stood and listened, and this time in the far distance they heard the noise of someone crashing through the undergrowth; then silence.

  “Who the devil can it have been?” said Veight. “Tramps don’t eat that sort of sandwich, and a tramp wouldn’t have bolted. What’s the matter?”

  “Look at the house, man; look at the house,” Gregoroff was breathing in his ear.

  Through an opening in the bushes Veight looked. Leaning out of a top window, staring over the water in their direction, was Doris Venables.

  “The girl, by God!” Veight muttered. “This must be dealt with at once.”

  CHAPTER XII

  To all appearances she was fast asleep when they entered the room. The door had been locked as usual with the key on the outside; the window was wide open.

  “There’s no good shamming, young woman,” said Gregoroff harshly. “We know you’re not asleep.”

  There was no answer; only the deep-measured breathing of someone under the influence of drugs.

  “If you go on pretending,” said Veight, bending over her, “I’ll rip the bedclothes off. I thought that would do the trick,” he added with a short laugh, as she made an involuntary movement.

  “Now, Miss Doris Venables, are you going to be sensible or shall we have to take drastic measures?”

  “How dare you come into my room!” she cried furiously. “Go at once.”

  “Shall we cut out the innocent-virgin stuff?” said Veight calmly. “We are in your room and we intend to stay here until you’ve answered a few questions, and answered them to our satisfaction.”

  He bent over and stared into her eyes.

  “There’s no dope in her at all,” he remarked to Gregoroff. “Go and get that miserable bungler Belfage, and bring him here.”

  “It might be as well, Veight, to question her first. We can get hold of him afterwards.”

  “All right,” agreed the German. “Now, my girl, are you going to stop in bed, or would you prefer to put on a dressing-gown and get up?”

  “I’ll get up if you’ll leave the room.”

  “We will avert our gaze, Miss Venables,” said Veight ironically. “Is this what you want?”

  He picked up a wrap lying on a chair, and tossed it on to the bed.

  “Now hurry, please; we have no time to waste.”

  He turned his back, and a moment or two later she spoke.

  “What are these questions you want to ask me?”

  “Good,” said Veight. “I am glad you are going to see reason. And really—I must compliment you on your appearance. A most enchanting picture.”

  “Will you kindly ask your questions and go?” she remarked icily. “I find your presence in my room quite insufferable.”

  “Then the sooner you answer, and the more truthful those answers are, the quicker you will be rid of us. What were you doing at the window a few minutes ago?”

  “Looking out. I woke up, and seeing it was a lovely morning I got out of bed.”

  “Who was the man you were looking for?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see any man. Why should I? I don’t even know where I am.”

  “I’m afraid, Miss Venables, our visit is going to be a long one. If you remember, I laid stress on your answers being truthful. You are not being truthful. Who was the man who was hiding in the undergrowth on the other side of the lake?”

  “I tell you I didn’t even know there was a man there, much less who he was.”

  �
��I fear, Gregoroff, that we shall have to adopt other measures with this young lady; measures, my dear, that you will not appreciate. For the moment, however, we will let that question drop, and turn to another. Ever since I have had the pleasure of knowing you, you have posed as an ardent member of the Key Club. Why?”

  “Because I am one.”

  Veight raised protesting hands.

  “You really must not go on in this stupid way. You are no more a member of that fatuous institution than I am. What I want to know is why you pretend to be.”

  “I tell you I am one,” she cried. “You can believe it or not as you like.”

  “I suppose you’ll ask me next to believe that you are a friend of Meredith’s—a man with a criminal record, who has served a sentence for forgery.”

  She gave a slight start.

  “I didn’t know that,” she said.

  “You do now. Why did you go back to Captain Drummond’s cottage that afternoon?”

  “To make sure the message telegraphed by Mrs. Eskdale was correct.”

  “And why did you want to make sure of that? I am waiting for an answer, Miss Venables,” he added after a pause.

  “I thought she might have made a mistake.”

  “Really! And if she had—what then? You, with a quickness for which I congratulate you, got rid of that man Drummond on the pretext that the message was a cipher giving the name of the place where your mythical cousin Harold had been taken to. You also, and on one of the few times in our acquaintance, quite truthfully told me that you thought it was the address of our headquarters in code. Why did you want that address? Whom did you wish to trace there?”

  “I tell you, I—”

  “Finding things a little difficult to answer, are we? Should I be very wide of the mark, Miss Venables, if I suggested to you that in the hurry of the moment you had not taken a copy of that wire, and that when I tore it up you couldn’t remember the contents? And that that was why you went back to the cottage? Thank you, you needn’t answer. I see I am right.”

  For a while he stared at her thoughtfully.

  “I must confess you arouse my curiosity, young woman,” he said at length. “Are you in the service of the British Government?”

  “I am not,” she answered promptly.

  “Then if that is the truth you are playing a lone hand. Once again I ask you, why?”

  She shrugged her shoulders indifferently.

  “I have already told you, Herr Veight, that you are quite wrong. I really cannot go on repeating myself; it’s too boring.”

  “So,” said Veight softly, and at that moment Doctor Belfage entered the room, bringing with him a strong odour of spirits. He had pulled on a dirty dressing-gown over his pyjamas, and a two days’ growth of stubble adorned his chin.

  “Thought I heard voices,” he muttered foolishly.

  “You drunken swine,” snarled Veight. “You were told to keep this girl under the influence of morphia, weren’t you? Well, look at her.”

  “Gave her a shot last night,” stammered the doctor.

  “Shot be damned!” cried Veight furiously. “You were too full of whisky to know what you were doing. And what’s the result? We found her trying to signal to somebody outside. And that’s your doing, you miserable fool.”

  “Signalling? My God! Whom to?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out. And that’s what I’m going to find out. Now look here, my girl, I’ve had enough of this fooling. You were anxious to find out where our headquarters were. Well, you have. They are here. And now you are going to sample what goes on in them. Up to date we haven’t worried about you; you have been kept quiet. Now, entirely owing to that wretched bungler, we have got to worry about you.”

  The girl rose to her feet, and faced him fearlessly.

  “How long have I been here, you brute?”

  “Three or four days,” answered Veight. “A nice rest cure.”

  “And what are you going to do with me?”

  “Apply a little suasion. Show you some of the sights of the house. Unless you tell us who that was outside.”

  “I tell you I don’t know,” she cried. “And if I did I wouldn’t tell you. Don’t touch me.” Her voice rose. “Don’t dare to put your beastly hands on me.” She backed to the window. “I swear I’ll jump out if you do.”

  And even as she spoke a sudden change came over her face, and she gave a little choking cry.

  “Tommy. Tommy darling. What have they done to you?”

  Standing in the doorway was a man with a chalk-white face. A dirty bandage was round his head, and he was swaying dangerously on his feet.

  “Doris,” he whispered. “I thought I heard your voice, dearest.”

  Heedless of the other three she went to him and flung her arms round his neck.

  “You devils!” she cried fiercely, as she led him towards the bed. “Sit down, darling. You oughtn’t to have got up.”

  “Things become a little clearer,” said Veight with interest. “I see you know Captain Lovelace, shall we say—fairly intimately.”

  “I’m engaged to him,” cried the girl defiantly.

  “Most romantic.” The German lit a cigarette. “At last we are beginning to understand things a little better. So it was to help him that you pretended to belong to the Key Club.”

  “It was,” said the soldier weakly. “And if you’ve got a spark of decency or manhood left in you, you’ll let her go.”

  “Much more clearly,” continued Veight. “That’s why you wanted the message: you guessed he’d be here. It proves one thing, however, Gregoroff. You got Lovelace in time; he has passed on nothing. Tell me,” he turned to the soldier, “as a mere matter of interest, what you meant by that strange message you threw through the window of the cottage. ‘Rosemary BJCDOR.’ It doesn’t make sense to me, though of course it’s a code.”

  Ginger Lovelace stared at him.

  “Rosemary,” he muttered. “I don’t understand. I…” And suddenly he grew silent, and passed his hand over his forehead. “I can’t remember… It’s all a sort of dream…”

  “Poor darling,” said the girl, putting her arm round his shoulders.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Veight. “I only asked out of curiosity.”

  “Let him go back to bed,” she cried.

  “All in good time, Miss Venables,” remarked Veight. “It wasn’t I who asked him to get up, you must remember. And there are one or two things to be decided first.”

  “Have you still got that poor devil downstairs?” said Lovelace.

  “We have. He is proving a little stubborn. But it won’t be much longer now. And the quicker it is the better for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My dear Lovelace, I have no personal animosity to you. I can honestly say that I am delighted to see you are well enough to get up, and I hope that you and this charming lady will enjoy many years of happiness together. But when you insisted on butting into our plans you left us no alternative but to keep you quiet. And had you not tried to get away in the fog your head would not be so painful now.”

  “Cut out all that bunk,” said the soldier. “What are you going to do with us?”

  “Again render you harmless until we have done what we came to do, and then you will both be free to do whatever you like.”

  “More dope?”

  “More dope.”

  “Can’t you let Miss Venables go?”

  “Really, Lovelace, you pain me. Let the girl who is engaged to you go! No, no, my dear fellow. You will both remain here as the guests of the estimable Mr. Hoskins for a few more days, and then let the marriage bells ring out.”

  “What the devil is all this about?”

  Meredith had entered the room unperceived.

  “Ask that damned doctor,” said Gregoroff savagely. “Let’s get on with it, Veight. I’m sick of this. Fetch a syringe, Belfage.”

  “I don’t understand,” cried Meredith as the doctor shuff
led out of the room.

  “That swine is so sodden with drink that he doesn’t know if he’s coming or going,” said Veight. “He forgot to give the girl an injection last night, and we found her looking out of the window. Now then, Belfage, stick it into his arm.”

  With shaking fingers the doctor inserted the needle, and a few moments later Lovelace fell back on the bed unconscious, while the girl watched them with eyes like those of a tigress.

  “You brutes!” she kept on muttering. “You brutes!”

  “Quite so, my dear,” said Veight calmly. “It may interest you to know, Meredith, that these two are engaged to be married, which accounts for much that was obscure. However, we needn’t go into that now. As I told you, we found her looking out of the window, and there was a man hiding in the undergrowth on the other side of the lake.”

  “What’s that?” Meredith gave a violent start.

  “Miss Venables’s explanation up to date has not, I regret to say, entirely satisfied me. And so I propose to see if we can’t get another. I think that the spectacle of our friend downstairs might open her mouth.”

  “You say there was a man watching the house?” said Meredith uneasily.

  “There was a man hidden in the bushes,” answered Veight, “who bolted when he heard us coming, and presumably he wasn’t bird’s-nesting.”

  “My God!” muttered Meredith. “Whom can it have been?”

  “That is what I should like to find out. Come along, young woman, and you shall see the effects of another drug we keep in the medicine cupboard—one that is specially suitable for people who won’t talk.”

  “Where are you taking me to?” she cried, shrinking back.

  “Down below. You were so very anxious to find out where this house was that you must really see all over it now you are here. Hurry up,” he added curtly, “you’ve wasted too much of my time already.”

  He took her roughly by the arm and forced her towards the door.

  “You’ll find it rather damp and a little gloomy; but don’t be afraid—we shall be with you.”