The Black Gang

by Sapper

  He glanced into the room underneath hers and saw that it looked like a drawing-room. The windows seemed easy to force if necessary, but he decided first of all to try the ivy outside. But it was useless for a man of his weight. Just at the bottom it supported him, but as soon as he started to climb it gave way at once. Twice he got up about six feet, twice he fell back again as the ivy broke away from the wall. And after the second attempt he looked up at the anxious face of his wife above.

  “No go, darling,” he muttered. “And I’m afraid of making too much noise. I’m going to try and force this window.”

  By a stroke of luck they had not taken his clasp-knife, and by a still greater stroke of luck he found that the catch on the window had been broken, and that it proved even easier to open than he had thought. He stepped back and looked up.

  “I’m coming in, kid,” he whispered. “Do you know where the stairs are?”

  “Just about the middle of the house, old man. And listen. I can’t quite reach the door to open it, but I’ve got my parasol and I can tap on it so that you’ll know which it is.”

  “Right,” he answered. “Keep your tail up.”

  The next moment he had vanished into the drawing-room. And now he noticed that that strange noise which he had heard while standing on the lawn was much louder. As he cautiously opened the door and peered into the passage the very faint hum became a steady drone, while with each successive thud the floorboards shook a little.

  The passage was in darkness, though light was shining from under some of the doors. And as he crept along in search of the stairs he heard voices proceeding from one of the rooms he passed. Evidently a fairly populous household, it struck him, as he tested the bottom stair with his weight to see if it creaked. But the staircase was old and solid, and the stair carpet was thick, and at the moment Hugh was not disposed to linger. Afterwards the house seemed to promise a fairly fruitful field for investigation; at present Phyllis was all that mattered. So he vanished upwards with the uncanny certainty of all his movements at night, and a moment later he was standing on the landing above.

  It was a long, straight corridor, a replica of the one below, and he turned in the direction in which he knew her room must lie. And he had only taken a couple of steps when he stopped abruptly, peering ahead with eyes that strove to pierce the darkness. For it seemed to him that there was something in the passage – something darker than its surroundings. He pressed against the wall absolutely motionless, and as he stood there with every sense alert, and his arms hanging loosely forward ready for any emergency, he heard a tapping on one of the doors just ahead of him. It was Phyllis signalling with her parasol as she had said, and he took a step forward. And at that moment something sprang out of the darkness, and he found himself fighting for his life.

  For a second or two he was at a disadvantage, so completely had he been taken by surprise; then the old habits returned. And not a moment too soon; he was up against an antagonist who was worthy of him. Two hands like iron hooks were round his neck, and the man who gets that grip first wins more often than not. His own hands shot out into the darkness, and then for the first time in his life he felt a stab of fear. For he couldn’t reach the other man: long though his arms were, the other man’s were far longer, and as his hands went along them he could feel the muscles standing out like steel bars. He made one supreme effort to force through to his opponent’s throat and it failed; with his superior reach he could keep his distance. Already Drummond’s head was beginning to feel like bursting with the awful pressure round his throat, and he knew he must do something at once or lose. And just in time he remembered his clasp-knife. It went against his grain to use it; never before had he fought an unarmed man with a weapon – and as far as he could tell this man was unarmed. But it had to be done and done quickly.

  With all his force he stabbed sideways at the man’s left arm. He heard a snarl of pain, and the grip of one of the hands round his throat relaxed. And now the one urgent thing was to prevent him shouting for help. Like a flash Drummond was on him, one hand on his mouth and the other gripping his throat with the grip he had learned from Osaki the Jap in days gone by, and had never forgotten. And because he was fighting to kill now he wasted no time. The grip tightened; there was a dreadful worrying noise as the man bit into his thumb – then it was over. The man slipped downwards on to the floor, and Drummond stood drawing in great mouthfuls of air.

  But he knew there was no time to lose. Though they had fought in silence, and he could still hear the monotonous thud and the beat of the engine, at any moment someone might come upstairs. And to be found with a dead man at one’s feet in a strange house is not the best way of securing a hospitable welcome. What to do with the body – that was the first insistent point. There was no time for intricate schemes; it was a question of taking risks and chancing it. So for a moment or two he listened at the door of the room opposite that on which he had heard Phyllis tapping, and from which the man had sprung at him – then he gently opened it. It was a bedroom and empty, and without further hesitation he dragged his late opponent in, and left him lying on the floor. By the dim light from the uncurtained window, he could see that the man was almost deformed, so enormous was the length of his arms. They must have been six inches longer than those of an average man, and were almost as powerful as his own. And as he saw the snarling, ferocious face upturned to his, he uttered a little prayer of thanksgiving for the presence of his clasp-knife. It had been altogether too near a thing for his liking.

  He closed the door and stepped across the passage, and the next moment Phyllis was in his arms.

  “I thought you were never coming, old man,” she whispered. “I was afraid the brutes had caught you.”

  “I had a slight difference of opinion with a warrior outside your door,” said Hugh, grinning. “Quite like old times.”

  “But, my dear,” she said, with sudden anxiety in her voice, “you’re sopping wet.”

  “Much water has flowed under the bridge, my angel child, since I last saw you, and I’ve flowed with it.” He kissed her on the right side of her mouth, then on the left for symmetry, and finally in the middle for luck. Then he grew serious. “No time for hot air now, old thing; let’s have a look at this jolly old chain effect of yours. Once we’re out of here, you shall tell me everything and I’ll eat several pounds of mud for having been such an unmitigated idiot as to let these swine get hold of you.”

  He was examining the steel chain as he spoke, and gradually his face grew grave. He didn’t seem to have gained much after all by breaking in; Phyllis was just as much a prisoner as ever.

  The chain, which was about six feet long, was fastened at one end to a big staple in the wall and at the other to a bracelet which encircled his wife’s right wrist. And the bracelet could only be opened with a key. Any idea of breaking the chain or pulling out the staple was so preposterous as not to be worth even a moment’s thought; so everything depended on the bracelet. And when he came to examine it more carefully he found that it had a Yale lock.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, and she watched him anxiously.

  “Can’t you get it undone, boy?” she whispered.

  “Not if I stopped here till next Christmas, darling,” he answered heavily.

  “Well, get out of the window and go for the police,” she implored.

  “My dear,” he said still more heavily, “I had, as I told you, a little difference of opinion with the gentleman outside the door – and he’s very dead.” She caught her breath sharply. “A nasty man with long arms who attacked me. It might be all right, of course – but I somehow feel that this matter is beyond the local constable, even if I could find him. You see, I don’t even know where we are.” He checked the exclamation of surprise that rose to her lips. “I’ll explain after, darling; let’s think of this now. If only I could get the key; if only I knew where it was even.�
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  “A foreigner came in about an hour ago,” answered his wife. “He had it then. And he said he’d come again tonight.”

  “He did, did he?” said Hugh slowly. “I wonder if it’s my friend the Italian. Anyway, kid, it’s the only chance. Did he come alone last time?”

  “Yes: I don’t think there was anyone with him. I’m sure there wasn’t.”

  “Then we must chance it,” said Hugh. “Say something; get him into the room and then leave him to me. And if for any reason he doesn’t come I’ll have to leave you here and raise the gang.”

  “Wouldn’t it be safer, boy, to do that now?” she said imploringly. “Suppose anything happened to you.”

  “Anything further that happens to me tonight, old thing,” he remarked grimly, “will be as flat as a squashed pancake compared to what’s happened already.”

  And then because she saw his mind was made up, and she knew the futility of arguing under those conditions, she sat on the bed beside him to wait. For a while they sat in silence listening to the monotonous thudding noise which went ceaselessly on; then because he wanted to distract her mind he made her tell him what had happened to her. And in disjointed whispers, with his arm round her waist, she pieced together the gaps in the story. How the man had come about the electric light, and then had offered to fetch her a taxi he knew already from Denny. She had got in, never suspecting anything, and told him to drive to the Ritz – and almost at once she had begun to feel faint. Still she suspected nothing, until she tried to open one of the windows. But it wouldn’t open, and the last thing she remembered before she actually fainted was tapping on the glass to try to draw the driver’s attention. Then when she came to, she found to her horror that she was not alone. A man was in the car with her, and they were out of London in the country. Both windows were wide open, and she asked him furiously what he was doing in her car. He smiled, and remarked that so far he was not aware he had sold it, but he was always open to an offer. And it was then that she realised for the first time exactly what had happened.

  The man told her quite frankly that she hadn’t fainted at all, but had been rendered unconscious by a discharge of gas down the speaking-tube; that acting under orders he was taking her to a house in the country where she would have to remain for how long he was unable to say, and further if she made a sound or gave any trouble he would gag her on the spot.

  Hugh’s arm tightened round her waist, and he cursed fluently under his breath.

  “And what happened when you got here, darling?” he asked as she paused.

  “They brought me straight up here, and tied me up,” she answered. “They haven’t hurt me – and they’ve given me food, but I’ve been terrified – simply terrified – as to what they were going to do next.” She clung to him, and he kissed her reassuringly. “There’s a man below with red hair and a straggling beard, who came and stared at me in the most horrible way. He was in his shirt sleeves and his arms were all covered with chemical stains.”

  “Did he touch you?” asked Hugh grimly.

  “No – he just looked horrible,” she said, with a shudder. “And then he repeated the other man’s threat – the one who had been in the car – that if I shouted or made any fuss he’d lash me up and gag me. He spoke in a sort of broken English – and his voice never seemed to rise above a whisper.”

  She was trembling now, and Hugh made a mental note of another gentleman on whom he proposed to lay hands in the near future. Red hair and a straggling beard should not prove hard to recognise.

  He glanced at the watch on Phyllis’ wrist, and saw that it was very nearly one o’clock. The noise of the engine was still going monotonously on; except for that the house seemed absolutely silent. And he began to wonder how long it would be wise to continue the vigil. Supposing no one did come; supposing somebody came who hadn’t got the key; supposing two or three of them came at the same time. Would it be better, even now, to drop through the window – and try to find a telephone or the police? If only he knew where he was; it might take him hours to find either at that time of night. And his whole being revolted at the idea of leaving Phyllis absolutely defenceless in such a house.

  He rose and paced softly up and down the room trying to think what was the best thing to do. It was a maddening circle whichever way he looked at it, and his fists clenched and unclenched as he tried to make up his mind. To go or to wait; to go at once or to stop in the hope that one man would come up and have the key on him. Common sense suggested the first course; something far more powerful than common sense prompted the latter. He could not and would not leave Phyllis alone. And so he decided on a compromise. If when daylight came no one had been up to the room, he would go; but he would wait till then. She’d feel safer once the night was over, and in the dawn he would be able to find his way outside more easily.

  And he was just going to tell Phyllis what he had decided, when he heard a sound that killed the words on his lips. A door had opened below, and men’s voices came floating up the stairs.

  “Lie down, darling,” he breathed in her ear, “and pretend to be asleep.”

  Without a word she did as he told her, while Hugh tiptoed over towards the door. There were steps coming up the stairs, and he flattened himself against the wall – waiting. The period of indecision was passed; unless he was very much mistaken the time of action had arrived. How it would pan out – whether luck would be in, or whether luck would fail was on the lap of the gods. All he could do was to hit hard and if necessary hit often, and a tingle of pure joy spread over him. Even Phyllis was almost forgotten at the moment; he had room in his mind for one thought only – the man whose steps he could hear coming along the passage.

  There was only one of them, he noted with a sigh of relief – but for all that silence would be essential. It would take time to find the key; it would take even longer to get Phyllis free and out of the house. So there must be no risk of an alarm whatever happened.

  The steps paused outside the door, and he heard a muttered ejaculation in Italian. It was his own particular friend of the motor right enough, and he grinned gently to himself. Apparently he was concerned over something, and it suddenly dawned on Drummond that it was the absence from duty of the long-armed bird that was causing the surprise. In the excitement of the moment he had forgotten all about him, and for one awful second his heart stood still. Suppose the Italian discovered the body before he entered the room, then the game was up with a vengeance. Once the alarm was given he’d have to run the gauntlet of the whole crowd over ground he didn’t know.

  But his fears were groundless; the non-discovery of the watcher by the door took the Italian the other way. His first thought was to make sure that the girl was safe, and he flung open the door and came in. He gave a grunt of satisfaction as he saw her lying on the bed; then like a spitting cat he swung round as he felt Drummond’s hand on his shoulder.

  “E pericoloso sporgersi,” muttered Hugh pleasantly, recalling the only Italian words he knew.

  “Dio mio!” stammered the other, with trembling lips. Like most southerners he was superstitious, and to be told that it was dangerous to lean out of the window by a man whom he knew to be drowned was too much for him. It was a ghost; it could be nothing else, and his knees suddenly felt strangely weak.

  “You didn’t know I was a linguist, did you?” continued Hugh, still more pleasantly; and with every ounce of weight in his body behind the blow, he hit the Italian on the point of the jaw. Without a sound the man crumpled up and pitched on his face.

  And now there was not a moment to be lost. At any moment one of his pals might come upstairs, and everything depended on speed and finding the key. Hugh shut the door and locked it; then feverishly he started to search through the Italian’s pockets. Everything up to date had panned out so wonderfully that he refused to believe that luck was going to fail him now, and sure enough he discovered
the bunch in one of the unconscious man’s waistcoat pockets. There were four of them, and the second he tried was the right one. Phyllis was free, and he heard her give a little sob of pure excitement.

  “You perfectly wonderful boy!” she whispered, and Hugh grinned.

  “We’ll hurl floral decorations afterwards, my angel,” he remarked. “Just at the moment it seems a pity not to replace you with someone.”

  He heaved the Italian on to the bed, and snapped the steel bracelet on to his arm. Then he slipped the keys into his own pocket, and crossed to the window. The engine was still humming gently; the thudding noise was still going on; nothing seemed in any way different. No light came from the room below them, everything had worked better than he had dared to hope. He had only to lower Phyllis out of the window, and let her drop on to the flower-bed and then follow himself. After that it was easy.

  “Come along, darling,” he said urgently, “I’m going to lower you out first – then I’ll follow. And once we’re down, you’ve got to trice up your skirts and run like a stag across the lawn till we’re under cover of those bushes. We aren’t quite out of the wood yet.”

  They were not indeed. It was just as Phyllis let go, and he saw her pick herself up and dart across the lawn, that he heard a terrific uproar in the house below, and several men came pounding up the stairs. There were excited voices in the passage outside, and for a moment he hesitated, wondering what on earth had caused the sudden alarm. Then realising that this was no time for guessing acrostics, he vaulted over the window-sill himself, and lowered himself to the full extent of his arms. Then he too let go and dropped on to the flower-bed below. And it was as he was picking himself up, preparatory to following Phyllis – whom he could see faintly across the lawn waiting for him, that he heard someone in the house shout an order in a hoarse voice.

  “Switch on the power at once, you damned fool; switch it on at once!”