The Bulldog Drummond Megapack

by H. C. McNeile

  ‘There stands the inn as it stood then; there flows the stream as it flowed then. Nothing has changed save that you came in a motor-coach and not on horseback. You are dining in a little piece of untouched England.’

  ‘If he says “God save the King”,’ whispered Drummond, ‘I shall burst into tears.’

  He was saved that, however: a burst of applause signified that the oration was over.

  ‘What’s stung you, Peter?’ Drummond asked. For Darrell was staring thoughtfully at the table, his forehead wrinkling in a frown.

  ‘You see that elderly grey-haired woman sitting two from the end,’ he said, and Drummond nodded. ‘I’m trying to think where the devil I’ve met her. ... Somehow or other she’s connected in my mind with cricket... Wait: it’s coming. ... That team I went out with to America two years ago. ... It was then I saw her. ... In Philadelphia. ... Mrs. ... Mrs. ... I’ve got it: Mrs. Walmeyer. ’

  ‘Who is Mrs. Walmeyer?’ asked Algy.

  ‘Wife of Mr. Walmeyer, the grey-haired bird who made the bet, and who is one of the ten richest men in the States. Her pearls, which she’s got on now—incidentally she is reputed even to have her bath in ’em—are insured for five hundred thousand dollars. And the rest of her stuff is in keeping.’

  ‘None of ’em look as if they were qualified for the dole,’ said Drummond as he rose and stretched himself. ‘But they seem harmless enough, so let’s feed here if there’s anything left to eat. I’m going to wash.’

  He lounged indoors, leaving the other two over their beer.

  ‘Going to introduce yourself to the girl friend?’ asked Algy.

  Darrell shook his head.

  ‘Not I,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose for a second that she’d remember me, and I’d hate to butt into the party. You know, I rather take off my hat to that fellow, whoever he is. I’ll bet it’s a novelty to this crowd.’

  ‘Depends on the second part of the programme,’ said Algy. ‘What’s stung Hugh? I want my dinner.’

  And at that moment they saw Drummond beckoning from the door.

  ‘Boys,’ he said happily as they joined him, ‘I have impinged on a fairy. Going up to my room I became aware of a faint but delightful scent. And as I stood sniffing the ozone, a door suddenly opened and I perceived a positive peach framed in the light. “Is that you, Paul?” she said.

  ‘I assured her that to my undying regret it was not, but I naturally placed what poor services I could render at her disposal. She thanked me adorably, and I asked her if she would like me to teach her fishing tomorrow. She seemed to think it was a capital idea, and on that high note of optimism we parted.’

  ‘Was she a member of the party?’ asked Algy.

  ‘No, dear boy, she was not. I at once looked out of my window, and found that the mystery tour was all present and correct.’

  ‘When did she arrive?’ demanded Darrell.

  ‘That is not the point. When will she leave?’

  ‘On the spot, when she sees you by daylight,’ said Algy. ‘What have we got to eat? Your trout?’

  ‘And you have the frightful gall to tell the poor child you’ll teach her to fish?’ Darrell gave a hollow laugh. ‘If I did my duty, I’d summon the police.’

  ‘Jealousy, jealousy,’ said Drummond sadly. ‘Jackson, old host, bring some of the fish Mr. Darrell bought in the village this afternoon.’

  They sat down by an open window, from which they could see the table outside. Dinner, there, was nearly over, and the younger and more impatient members of the party were beginning to agitate for the next item on the programme. They were clamouring for a hint as to what it was going to be. But the organizer was adamant. Smilingly he shook his head; everything would be discovered in due course. The whole show would be ruined if it was given away beforehand.

  ‘But I can promise you all,’ he said, ‘that it will come up to your expectations. If it doesn’t,’ he added with a shrug of his shoulders, ‘I lose my bet. Now—are we all ready?’

  There came a pushing back of chairs, followed by a general exodus towards the motor coach.

  ‘And we shall never know,’ said Drummond, ‘whether he wins his bet or not. But the ghastly thought that assails me is that he is Paul. That laden tomorrow with American dollars he will insist on attending my fishing lesson... My God!’

  The other two stared at him in amazement, for he had jumped to his feet and was staring out of the window like a man possessed. And the next moment he had left the room.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’ said Algy bewildered, and Darrell shook his head.

  ‘No good asking me,’ he answered. ‘Here he comes again.’

  Gone was the Drummond of a few moments before, and they looked at him even more bewildered.

  ‘Listen to me,’ he said curtly. ‘The two drivers on that coach have been changed. They’re not the same men that brought it down from London.’

  ‘What of it?’ cried Algy feebly.

  ‘They never send four men on a coach, you fool: only two. Why have they been changed? And who has taken the original men’s places?’

  He swung round as the landlord came in.

  ‘Jackson—where are the two men who brought down the coach? I saw them having their dinner a quarter of an hour ago.’

  ‘A dreadful thing, sir, has happened.’ The worthy man was wringing his hands. ‘They’ve both of them drunk too much. Luckily there were two others here who were qualified to take their places.’

  ‘Very lucky,’ snapped Drummond. ‘Let me see the two originals.’

  And most assuredly they had drunk too much if appearances were to be believed. Snoring stentoriously, they were sprawling over a bench, and Drummond took one look at them.

  ‘Drugged, or I’m a Dutchman,’ he cried to Darrell. ‘And you don’t drug men for fun. Get the car, Algy, and jump to it!’

  He let out a bellow of laughter.

  ‘Adventure, boys: rich, riotous adventure after all.’

  ‘But what’s the game, Hugh?’

  ‘That, old lad, remains to be seen. All that matters at the moment is that Paul—if it is Paul—has abducted a perfectly good party of American millionaires. Look here, Jackson,’ he continued as Algy sprinted out of the room, ‘what did these two sportsmen have to drink?’

  ‘A pint of beer each, sir.’

  ‘Was it laced with anything?’

  ‘Not that I know of, sir.’

  ‘Even if it were doped with gin, Hugh,’ said Darrell, ‘one pint wouldn’t produce that effect.’

  ‘I agree. And where did the two substitutes spring from?’

  ‘They’d been here some time, sir. And when Mr. Verrinder saw what had happened they volunteered to drive instead.’

  ‘Is Verrinder the name of the man who organized the show?’

  ‘That’s right, sir. Mr. Paul Verrinder.’

  Drummond smiled.

  ‘And the lady upstairs?’

  ‘A friend of his, sir. She went off in a car with another gentleman about ten minutes ago. Is anything wrong, sir?’ he added anxiously as Algy appeared in the doorway to say the car was ready.

  ‘That’s what we’re going to find out, Jackson. Did anyone drop a hint as to where they were going?’

  ‘I heard the lady say something about it being five miles beyond Romsey, sir.’

  ‘Good. We should overtake ’em by then. Come on, boys.’

  They tumbled into the car, and set off in pursuit. It was a quarter of an hour before they saw the lights of the coach in front of them. Drummond at once slowed down. To overtake the party would be fatal; to sit close on their tail might arouse the driver’s suspicions. And so with dimmed lights he kept two or three hundred yards behind, only drawing nearer when they came to Romsey itself.

  The coach took the Winchester direction, and Drummond fell back again. From now on more care was necessary, since the actual destination was unknown. And so when the coach suddenly swung right handed along a narrow road, he was only abo
ut a hundred yards behind.

  For two miles they continued, then once again the coach swung right—this time through lodge gates into a drive flanked on each side by an avenue of trees. And very cautiously, with lights extinguished, Drummond swung in after them.

  In the distance they could see the dim outline of a big house against the sky. It was in darkness, as was the lodge; evidently the place was empty. And as Drummond turned the car on to the grass verge and ran her in between two trees he chuckled joyfully.

  ‘What the devil is the game, chaps? Or can it be that the show is genuine?’

  The party had dismounted by the time they reached the house: the motor coach, lights switched off, was standing by the front door. And keeping in the shadows of the trees, the three of them skirted round the edge of the drive.

  Suddenly Drummond paused, his hand raised warningly. From close by had come the sound of voices and a short laugh; then two figures loomed up and disappeared in the direction of the house.

  A moment or two later Drummond came upon a fast sports car carefully hidden behind some shrubbery.

  ‘Can it be that it just grew here?’ he continued. ‘Or is it for a rapid getaway? In either event, I think we will tune it up.’

  He opened the bonnet, and under the ministrations of three experts the car gave up any claims to fastness. In fact, its maximum speed would now be that of a cart-horse towing it. Then conscious of work well done they continued their progress towards the front door.

  It was open, and they cautiously entered the hall. Practically empty of furniture, the house smelled of disuse. In front of them they could dimly see the stairs, with a stained glass window at the top: on each side doors opened into lofty rooms empty as the hall. And then from the back of the house they heard Paul Verrinder’s voice.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen.’

  ‘Come on,’ whispered Drummond. ‘The curtain is going up.’

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ continued the voice, ‘you are now in the banqueting hall of Strathray Place—one of the seats until quite recently of the Earls of Strathray. Above us, at the far end of the room, is the musicians’ gallery, untouched since the terrible tragedy that took place over a century ago.’

  Without a sound Drummond and his friends crept towards the door and stood outside. A faint light filtering in through the mullioned windows on to the floor only seemed to throw into greater darkness the rest of the room. And when for a moment the voice ceased, a sudden nervous giggle from some girl came almost as a relief.

  ‘Silence, please!’ Verrinder was speaking again. ‘It is essential that you should try to attune yourselves to the atmosphere of the place. And to help you I will tell you the story of that night. For in the room where we now stand a very strange drama was being enacted.

  ‘Picture to yourselves a long table, on which burned countless candles. It was laid for a party of thirty. The historic Strathray plate was adorning it in all its magnificence. The major-domo and the footmen stood motionless in their places, though had one looked at them closely, one would have noticed that here and there a finger twitched, a jaw clenched unnaturally. For grim things were in the air that night, and the men sensed it.

  ‘Seated at one end of the table was their master—the eighth Earl. Dressed in the height of fashion, with the candlelight glinting on his aquiline features, he seemed to be enjoying some secret joke as his eyes wandered from one to the other of his two companions, who sat on each side of him. The remaining chairs were empty.

  ‘On his right was a beautiful girl; on his left a young man, whose plainer clothes betokened a less exalted rank than that of his host. A handsome youth with sensitive hands and face, he kept shooting little glances first at his host and then at the girl opposite, who kept her eyes fixed steadily on her plate.

  ‘Slowly the meal dragged on, each course ushered in with the pomp and ceremony habitual to the household, but it was noticeable that the only one of the three who spoke was the earl. And after a while he frowned.

  “‘You are silent, my love,” he said suavely to the girl. “I trust nothing ails you.”

  ‘“I thank you, no my lord,” she answered. “But I am wondering what can have happened to your lordship’s other guests.”

  “‘Surely, my dear, the company of your husband and Mr. Ludlow is ample compensation for the absence of others. What say you, Mr. Ludlow?”

  ‘“That I greatly appreciate your lordship’s hospitality,” said the young man.

  “‘Long may your appreciation continue,” remarked the earl. “Put the wine upon the table.” He signed to the major-domo. “And then begone. And now we can talk undisturbed,” he continued as the servants left the room. “I understand that you are a musician, Mr. Ludlow.”

  “‘In my poor way,” said the other with a bow.

  “‘Excellent. I did well to countermand the players. And since you too, my love, perform so charmingly upon the harp I shall be privileged to listen to a duet later.”

  ‘The eyes of the two young people met, held for an instant and then fell apart. But in that instant the message had flashed between them. The earl knew. How he had found out that they loved one another did not matter; he knew.

  “‘A duet played in the musicians’ gallery with an audience small but most appreciative. Incidentally, my dear wife, small though the audience may be, it will be larger than many you have both played to.”

  ‘“I don’t understand you, my lord,” she whispered through dry lips.

  “‘Don’t you?” he sneered. “Then your brains are hardly in keeping with your beauty.”

  ‘He clapped his hands.

  “‘Bring Mr. Ludlow’s violin,” he ordered the servant who had appeared. “And her ladyship’s harp.”

  “‘My lord,” stammered the youth. “I am not in the mood... I...”

  “‘To play with a lady! Zounds, Mr. Ludlow, what an ungallant remark! But I fear I must insist.’”

  Paul Verrinder’s voice ceased, and even as it did so a faint light began to illuminate the musicians’ gallery and a little sign of expectation whispered through the party. For there, seated by the rail, clad in the costumes of a bygone day, were a girl and a man.

  ‘Play!’ the harsh voice rang out again. ‘Play—damn you—your last duet!’

  But no music followed. Instead there came a splintering crash, and the two figures seemed to fall through the floor of the gallery into the darkness below. Two dreadful thuds: the dying twang of a violin string: then silence—save for a sardonic laugh.

  ‘The last duet! Admirably played.’

  * * * *

  For a moment there was a stupefied silence, then pandemonium broke loose. Women screamed, men shouted for lights. So that it was not surprising that in the general uproar the noise of a sharp struggle near the door passed unnoticed. And when Paul Verrinder’s voice rose above the tumult calling for silence the struggle was over.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, be silent, I beg of you. Everything is quite all right. Neither of them is hurt. Look!’

  He switched on a torch, and there, carefully placed under the floor of the gallery in such a position that it had been invisible was a net. On the floor lay two dummies, a harp and a violin: the two performers had disappeared. And as the full realization of how they had been spoofed dawned on the party, a burst of applause broke out.

  ‘Gee! Mr. Verrinder,’ cried Walmeyer, ‘that gave me one of the nastiest turns I’ve had for some time. I sure thought there had been an accident.’

  ‘And do I win my bet, Mr. Walmeyer?’

  ‘You certainly do. It was worth all of five thousand dollars. And if you call round to the Porchester tomorrow I’ll have the greatest pleasure in handing ’em over.’

  ‘But surely,’ came a cheerful voice, ‘the entertainment is not yet over, Mr. Verrinder?’

  And at that moment the headlights of a car shining through the windows lit up the room clearly. The whole party swung round. Standing at the top of the three steps lea
ding down into the banqueting hall was Hugh Drummond. In his hand he held a small bag, the sight of which caused Paul Verrinder’s face to turn a delicate shade of green.

  ‘Who the blazes are you?’ said Mr. Walmeyer.

  ‘Just a helper in the party,’ answered Drummond affably.

  ‘I’ve seen him before,’ cried one of the men. ‘He was having dinner at the Angler’s Rest.’

  ‘Quite right,’ said Drummond. ‘And now, Mr. Walmeyer, I gather from what you said a few moments ago that the entertainment up to date has been worth five thousand dollars.’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘Well, if we can give you a further entertainment, where the thrill will, I think, be as great—even if not from the same cause—as the one you have already had, would you be prepared to make that five thousand, ten?’

  ‘Yes. I would,’ answered the American after a pause.

  ‘You see, Mr. Verrinder thinks of everything. And supposing something had gone wrong with the admirable little play he staged for you tonight, he had another card up his sleeve. Shall I begin—er—Paul?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Verrinder, contorting his face into a smile.

  ‘Now your pearls, Mrs. Walmeyer,’ continued Drummond. ‘You know—I don’t see them round your neck.’

  Her hands flew to her throat.

  ‘John!’ she screamed. ‘They’ve gone.’

  Drummond held up his hand.

  ‘Please don’t be alarmed! Peter! Mrs. Walmeyer’s pearls, please. Will you hand them to the lady... Thank you. And now exhibit B.’

  He groped in the bag and extracted a bulky pocket book.

  ‘Someone seems to have lost this. Marked J.B.W. Any claims?’

  ‘My wallet,’ howled John B Walmeyer.

  ‘And mine’s gone... Mine too...’ came in an excited babble from the other men.

  ‘Sort them out, gentlemen... Peter, put the collection on the floor. Now, Mr. Walmeyer,’ he continued as the others crowded round the bag, ‘I leave it to you to decide whether we deserve that extra five thousand dollars or not. My friend here, Mr. Algernon Poltwhistle, the most famous pickpocket entertainer in the world, was specially hired by Mr. Verrinder tonight, to put the finishing touch to the evening’s performance... Algernon Poltwhistle. ...’