The Bulldog Drummond Megapack

by H. C. McNeile

  “Do you think that little rat of a barber overheard anything and passed it on to Talbot?”

  “Possibly. I cannot say. But the bald fact remains, Burton, that if it was Drummond, it shows there is a leakage somewhere. Fortunately that leakage can only be on the fringe of our scheme, but one never knows when one thing may not lead to another. And whatever you may say about the English, you cannot deny that their Special Service men are second to none, and that once they’ve got on to a thing they never let go.”

  He lit a cigarette.

  “I suppose it is necessary to remove our friend below?” he asked.

  “Absolutely. He has suddenly developed scruples, and he knows too much. God! I wish I’d got Drummond down there as well.”

  Menalin laughed shortly.

  “Well—you haven’t. And from what little I’ve seen of the gentleman, I don’t think you’re likely to. Shall we adjourn? There is a lot to be discussed, and I am anxious to see this method of yours in action.”

  They crossed the hall towards Burton’s study, and Algy who had been lying with his ear glued to the banisters on the first floor landing, rose and dusted his trousers. Except for an acute attack of cramp he had gained nothing. One or two odd words here and there were all that he had heard, and they had been of no help.

  The house was very silent as he walked to his room. From the further end of the corridor a faint roaring noise proclaimed that Sir George had given up the labours of the day; a suddenly extinguished light under the door of the adjacent room indicated that his wife was about to imitate him.

  A fire was burning brightly in the grate, and throwing himself into an easy chair he lit a cigarette. He had half hoped to find some message from Talbot concerning the shout, but there was no sign of one. And the possibility that it was Talbot himself who had called out, struck him for the first time.

  He rose and began to pace up and down the floor. That something was going on he knew; how to find out what it was—that was the point. And it was no question of fear or danger that deterred him, but just ordinary horse-sense.

  In the first place, save for the hall and the sitting-rooms, he did not know the geography of the house. It would, therefore, if he had a look round, be a blind search. And was the bare chance of discovering something worth the risk of being discovered himself? For if that happened, no amount of pretended buffoonery could possibly save him. He would stand self-convicted as a spy, and, apart from anything they might do to him, his value to the side would become nil on the spot.

  He drew back the curtain and looked out. It was an overcast, rather unpleasant night, and very dark. From a room at one end of the annexe, light was filtering through a blind, and it seemed to him that he could Catch the faint murmur of voices. The room was on the same floor as his own; if only he could see inside. But it was impossible, and once more he started pacing restlessly up and down.

  After a while he got undressed, but he knew that sleep would be out of the question. So, putting on a dressing-gown, he again flung himself into a chair, and picked up a book. But he could not concentrate. Round and round in his mind went the ceaseless questions. Where was the island of Varda? What was really happening there, for he no more believed Burton’s explanation about that, than he believed his story about the electric-light plant? Where was Drummond? Was he outside there in the darkness prowling round the house?

  Suddenly he put down his book and leaned forward, listening intently. And this time there was no mistake; a board had creaked in the passage outside. Like a flash Algy was across the room and had switched off the light. Then, crouching behind the bed, he waited tensely.

  Came another creak—this time just outside the door, and the handle was gently tried. The flames were throwing dancing shadows, as with every muscle taut he watched the door slowly open. Watched and waited, only to relax suddenly with a gasp.

  With her eyes open and staring and her hands groping in front of her, Molly Castledon closed the door and came on into the room, She moved with a strange impression of sureness—slowly, but unfalteringly, and Algy watched her with some dismay. By now he realised what had happened; she was walking in her sleep. And his only coherent prayer was that her gorgon of a mother would not follow her. He felt that explanation would be difficult…

  But what on earth was he to do? Dimly he remembered that the one thing you must not do is to wake a sleep-walker. He had an idea that one took them by the hand and led them gently back to their own room. And one slight difficulty was that he had no idea which was her room. The prospect of a hand-in-hand search for it, and encountering mother minus hair and teeth in the process, made him break out in a cold sweat. Especially as, somewhat naturally, Molly had omitted to put on a wrap and was clad only in pyjamas.

  Algy drew a deep breath; something had to be done quickly as, to make matters worse, she was now preparing to get into bed. Wild thoughts of singing “You can’t do that there ’ere” he dismissed as impracticable, and then the tension broke.

  “Are you never going to speak, fathead?” demanded the girl.

  “What the…Why the—” spluttered Algy. “I thought you were walking in your sleep.”

  “Bright boy,” she said sitting on the edge of the bed. “That’s what I meant you to think. I used to when I was a kid, and I was afraid I might have forgotten how. Did I do it well?”

  “My angel woman—magnificently,” he remarked. “But what on earth is the notion?”

  “Give me a cigarette,” she said.

  “But, Molly,” he cried, “you can’t stop here. What on earth are people going to say if you’re found out?”

  “Who’s going to find out? Father had too much port, and mother’s taken her usual sleep dope.”

  “Thank God for that,” breathed Algy fervently.

  “And if it eases your mind I’m not going to stop here. You’re coming to my room when I’ve finished this cigarette. Algy, that little performance was a dress rehearsal.”

  “Go on, dear heart,” he said resignedly. “I suppose I’ll get this right sometime.”

  “Did you notice I was a little annoyed when I came in from the billiard-room?”

  “It did not escape Algy’s attention.”

  “I don’t know if the gentleman had been liquoring up, but the result left much to be desired.”

  “I guessed it was that.”

  “Much,” she repeated. “His ideas of fun and laughter and mine do not coincide. And when I told you I’d play I did not bargain for that.”

  “I’m sorry, dear,” said Algy quietly. “Very sorry indeed. And I know that Hugh will be too.”

  “Don’t you worry about that; this child can look after herself. But, Algy I want to get a bit of my own back. Hence the sleep walking.”

  “I’m afraid I’m a bit dense, my love, but…” Algy looked frankly bewildered.

  “Come over here.”

  She took him by the arm and drew him to the window.

  “You see that room with the light on. I can see it much better from mine than you can from here. There’s something going on in it. And I’m going to find out what that something is.”

  “But how the devil do you propose to do it?”

  “If I can sleep walk into this room, I can sleep walk into that.”

  For a moment or two he stared at her speechlessly.

  “My dear girl,” he gasped at length, “don’t be such an ass. It’s out of the question. I absolutely forbid you to do anything of the sort. You’re to go straight back to bed.”

  She blew out a cloud of smoke.

  “Algy, my pet, you’re rather angelic when you do the cave man stuff. Now listen to me, big boy. First of all what was all that Varda business about?”

  “Hugh got a note to me through one of the footmen. Incidentally he’s not a footman at all, but the son of Colonel Talbot who was murdered the other day. And in the note I was told to get Burton’s and Menalin’s reaction to the island of Varda.”

  She began to
laugh.

  “And was that the best you could do, my poor lamb? However, we’ll let that pass, and go on. Do you believe what our charming host said about that man who screamed?”

  “No,” admitted Algy. “I don’t.”

  “Good. Two points. A third you’ve just told me yourself; this show is sufficiently big not only for a man to come masquerading as a footman, but for me to have been given the job I’ve got. O.K. up to date?”

  “You little devil,” grinned Algy. “You’re not going to get me that way.”

  “Shut up,” said the girl. “So much for that side of the situation; now for the other. I never liked Charles, but you can take it from me that, compared to my feelings for him now, those of yester year were like a crooning mother’s. So you see that everything adds up; no subtraction anywhere.”

  “But Molly, my dear,” he said, “it’s not safe. There are probably a lot of men there.”

  “What if there are? They won’t eat me.”

  “And the chances are very small that you’ll find out anything if you do.”

  “The chances are non-existent that I’ll find out anything if I don’t.”

  “Besides—your rig.”

  “What’s the matter with it? I’m decent, ain’t I?”

  “Of course you are, my dear,” he said feebly. “Perfectly adorable, but…”

  She rose and pitched her cigarette into the fire.

  “Algy dear,” she said quietly. “My mind is absolutely made up. There’s no good pretending that if you thought you had half a chance of getting into that room successfully yourself you wouldn’t take it.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted grudgingly.

  “Of course I’m right. Well you haven’t half a chance—not the hundredth part of a chance. They’re more than a bit suspicious of you already. So the only hope is me. I may find out nothing; the door may be locked; they may be holding a Bible meeting. But I’m going to have a look see.”

  “You are a fizzer, Molly,” he cried. “But it’s all wrong, you know. And if anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “Don’t be an ass. What can happen to me? Now come along to my room, and we’ll have a preliminary investigation. Then once I’m away you must come back here, and wait for me.”

  “I’ll wait in your room.”

  “Don’t be silly. When Charles leads me back by the hand it’ll look grand, won’t it, if the first person he sees is you. Come on.”

  Side by side they crept along the passage till they came to her door. And it was as they got to it that Algy suddenly stiffened; from close by he had heard a faint sound of movement. His grip on her arm tightened, and she paused pressing close to him in the darkness.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “There’s someone here,” he breathed. “Go into your room; shut and lock the door. I’ll come in later—if it’s safe.”

  He crouched back against the wall as she opened the door. And in the faint light that filtered out from the fire he saw for a second the outline of a man not a yard away. And seeing—sprang.

  Came a grunt and a stifled curse as he closed, and the next moment he was fighting in earnest. And then more light; Molly had reopened her door.

  “Good God!” muttered Algy, letting go. His opponent was Talbot.

  “What’s the game?” he demanded suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

  Talbot raised his eyebrows, and Algy frowned. It had just struck him that, on the face of it, the same question applied to him even more forcibly. Then he realised Molly was still standing in the open doorway.

  “Molly,” he said, “this is the footman I told you about. Captain Talbot; Miss Castledon.”

  She gave an amused little laugh.

  “How d’you do,” she remarked, holding out her hand. “Don’t look so embarrassed, you poor man. I can assure you that Algy’s intentions are strictly honourable. Come in; we can’t all stand about in the passage.”

  “You see,” explained Talbot, when the door was shut, “Drummond didn’t know that Longworth was going to be here when he first sent me. And so, amongst other things one of the jobs he gave me was to look after you, Miss Castledon. He told me what you were doing—leading Burton up the garden path and so forth—and—er—I—er—happened to be passing the billiard-room tonight when you were in there. So I thought—er—er—”

  “Exactly,” said Molly quietly. “You thought he might endeavour to follow up the good work.”

  “Something of the sort,” he admitted.

  “Thank you very much, Captain Talbot. It was sweet of you. So far I am glad to say I have been spared that. This is something quite different. Explain to him, Algy.”

  Talbot listened with a look of admiration growing on his face.

  “But it’s super,” he cried, enthusiastically.

  “Simply super. I congratulate you, Miss Castledon.”

  “Rot,” said Algy. “She oughtn’t to do it.”

  “But she’s going to, my pet,” answered Molly.

  “And I shall be on hand,” said Talbot.

  Algy stared at him.

  “That makes it better,” he said thoughtfully. “Much better.”

  “But how can you be?” cried Molly. “You can’t be sleep-walking too.”

  “Not exactly,” laughed Talbot. “But I am a footman. I can be in parts of the house, quite safely, where Longworth couldn’t possibly be without raising suspicion.”

  “Have you got any idea how many there are in this party?” asked Algy.

  “There’s a permanent staff here of six men,” said Talbot. “They’ve got a dining-room of their own, and four of ’em are foreigners.”

  “What do they do?”

  “Secretarial work apparently. But it’s really only guess-work on my part, because they’ve got a special staff who look after them.”

  “And was it one of them who screamed?” asked the girl.

  “I don’t know,” answered Talbot. “I heard it, of course, but there’s one thing you soon discover in this house. Curiosity is not encouraged.”

  “Burton said it was someone getting tied up in the the electric-light plant,” remarked Algy.

  “That I can assure you it wasn’t,” said Talbot. “The engine is a hundred yards away in the wood. No; that scream came from the house.”

  “Come on, Captain Talbot,” cried Molly. “If we stop here talking all night, their meeting will be over.”

  “Dash it, Molly,” said Algy. “I don’t like it.”

  “Dry up,” she laughed. “Now what are you going to do?” She turned to the soldier.

  “Go with you and show you the room. Then lurk round a corner out of sight, but within hearing. And if anything happens, just give a call and I’ll be with you.”

  “And you, Algy?”

  “I’ll watch from here for a bit, but I’ll be away before there’s any chance of your coming back. It’s all wrong this, but good luck, bless you.”

  The door closed behind her and Talbot, and Algy crossed to the window. The girl had been right; he could see straight into the room opposite. But the blind was pulled down, so that the fact did not avail much. And then to his amaze and delight a thing happened which he would not have dared to hope for. With a click the blind flew up, and there was Menalin leaning out of the window.

  Algy crouched down still lower, though he knew he could not be seen. What an unprecedented stroke of luck! Every detail of the room was plainly visible. Facing him, and sitting at one end of a table was Burton, and the six men mentioned by Talbot were flanking him, three on either side. Nearest to him was a pushed back chair, evidently the one which Menalin had just vacated.

  At the moment Burton was doing the talking, though it was impossible to hear anything he said. Occasionally one of the others would make a note, or consult a paper, whilst Menalin, his back to the room, stood quietly smoking. It might, reflected Algy, have been the most ordinary common or garden business me
eting, with the chairman addressing his board of directors.

  Suddenly Algy grew tense; the moment had come. Menalin had swung round; the other men had all risen and were staring open-mouthed at some obviously amazing spectacle. And then Molly herself came into view. Heavens! but she was superb. Even at that distance he could see the outstretched hands, sense those wide-open staring eyes as she moved across the room.

  She came to a chair, and began slowly to feel her way round the table. And it was then that Burton seemed to come out of his stupor. He lifted one hand in an imperative signal for silence, and moved swiftly towards the girl. For a moment Algy’s heart stood still. What was he going to do? And with unspeakable relief he saw that all was well; Burton had been taken in even as he had.

  Very gently he took the girl’s hand, and began to lead her towards the door. Which, reflected Algy, was his cue not to linger on the order of his going. Five seconds later he was back in his own room, marvelling at the pluck which had carried a girl of her age through such an ordeal. Whether she had found out anything or not was beside the point; nothing could detract from the merit of the performance. In fact he was still taking off his hat to it when Talbot shook him into consciousness next morning at eight o’clock.

  “Wouldn’t have believed it possible that I could have slept,” Algy announced. “God! man—she was immense. Did you see it?”

  Talbot shook his head.

  “But I followed back to her room at a discreet distance to make sure Burton didn’t try any funny stuff.”

  “He didn’t, did he?”

  “No. I’ll give the swine credit for that. I wonder whether she’s got on to anything.”

  “We’ll find out this morning. Jove! that girl can act.”

  Algy lit a cigarette.

  “All the six worthies you told us about, and the great Menalin himself, gaping at her like a group of dead codfish.”

  “I wish I’d seen it,” said Talbot.

  “The incredible bit of luck was that just before the performance started Menalin went and loosed up the blind. So that I saw the whole outfit from A to Z. Look here, old lad, we’ll have to keep up the fiction. D’you mind turning me on a bath?”