“I know, I know,” Diana cried miserably. “But, please Swithin think of me a little. I just can’t bear that you should risk your life again.”
Peter put out a hand to stop her. “That’s all right. I wouldn’t ask him to.”
She turned to him quickly. “I’m terribly sorry, Peter. You’ve had the rottenest luck. I hate to stand in the way of what you must think is a chance to get out of your trouble, but honestly—to break into the Chief of Police’s own house is absolute insanity.”
He nodded. “I understand. Naturally you don’t want Swithin to run such a big risk now you’re—well, anyway it’s my show and I’ve got a gun in my bag at the Pera”
“You can’t go alone,” said Swithin firmly. “You don’t even know where the house is.”
“By the Dolma Baghtche you said. You can describe it to me and I’ll find it all right.”
Swithin shook his head. “No, Peter. You’re a good bit taller than I am but you couldn’t reach that window. This is a two man job. It’s quite useless for you to try and tackle it on your own.”
“Well, that’s a pity—because I’m going to. If I do get shot or chucked into a Turkish prison people won’t think quite so badly of me as they would if I just crawled home with my tail between my legs. I should have been forced to take it lying down if you hadn’t told me where the thing is likely to be at this moment, but since you have, I’ve simply got to try and get it back—you must see that.”
“I do,” agreed Swithin, “and I wish to God I hadn’t told you now.”
For a moment they sat silent. Then Diana said very quietly: “For one of you to go alone would be suicide, but two of you might stand some chance of getting away with it, so—so I give in.”
“No, it’s not fair on you—I’ll go alone,” Peter protested.
“You won’t,” she said with sudden sharpness, “and if you try to I shall walk straight over to Tyndall-Williams and tell him what you’re up to. He’ll see you don’t leave the Embassy after that. Now Swithin, tell me exactly what you intend to do.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “If Halket can get us a car, we’ll drive off in it to the street in which Kazdim has his house, leave it on the corner at the entrance of that alleyway I told you about, and get in at the window. The cell is only used very rarely so it is unlikely to be occupied to-night and if that is so the door will not be locked. Then we’ll go out through the passage to the garden and climb on to the balcony that runs the whole length of the house. The principal rooms are certain to open out on to that. We’ll find Kazdim’s study and as it’s not yet midnight he’ll probably be still at work. Then we break in, hold him up, get the locket, and make a dash with it back to the car.”
Diana shook her head. “It’s all very problematic, although of course that can’t be helped, but the last part just won’t do. He will almost certainly have a man on duty outside the street entrance who would question the driver of the car if it remains there while you’re inside the house. Then your retreat will be cut off. And in any case you will never get away like that. He will be raising Cain down the telephone the second you’ve left him, and half the police in Pera will be out to stop you getting back to the Embassy. You’ll never do it.”
“We can tie Kazdim up,” Swithin suggested.
She shook her head again. “No, I don’t like it. You must remember that the chances are you will be discovered and have to make a dash for it before you even get to him. It is essential that you should have a clear getaway.”
“You say this place is near the Dolma Baghtche steps,” Peter remarked. “How about the launch. I expect it’s still there. Couldn’t we go in the car. Send it off directly it has dropped us, and then make off by water when we come out.”
“Now that is an idea,” Diana nodded. “How far is the house from the steps, Swithin?”
“Not more than three hundred yards.”
“Good. Then immediately you reach the launch you will run out to the yacht in it. The whole thing is full of horrible uncertainties, but that is about the best arrangement we can make.”
“Right, darling.” Swithin stood up. “I think we’d better go in then, and see if Halket’s been able to get a car.”
Together they walked back to the entrance of the Embassy. Halket met them in the doorway. A short, swarthy little man stood beside him.
“I’ve made an arrangement of which I hope you will approve, sir,” he said to Swithin. “It occurred to me that since you said that you would prefer a closed car, the Embassy van might serve the purpose even better. It’s a box Ford affair, and we collect the baggage in it from the station. A little uncomfortable perhaps, but if you don’t mind that, sir …”
“But that’s marvellous!” exclaimed Swithin, “we couldn’t have anything better. How about a driver?”
The butler glanced at his companion. “All the chauffeurs have gone for the night unfortunately, sir, but this is Murad. He is our electrician and does odd jobs about the house. I understand that he can drive a car, and he has volunteered to take you wherever you wish to go.”
“Splendid!” Swithin looked at the little electrician. “And very kind of you, Mr. Murad. Am I right in thinking that you are not a Turk?”
Murad grinned and shook his head. “No, I Syrian. Turks kill my father, mother, brothers, rape sister, all in big war against Eengleish—hate Turk.” He spat.
“I see.” Swithin turned back to Halket. “One thing more. Several people in the Embassy must have pistols—do you think you could get me a couple?”
“Really, sir, without permission I should hardly like …” the butler began uncomfortably, but Peter intervened.
“Come on Halket. I’m in a mess and Captain Destime has very kindly offered to help me out, but where we’re going we must have something to protect ourselves. Be a good chap and do your best for us.”
“Well, Mr. Peter, in that case …” Halket sighed heavily. “I think that the Naval Attaché has one and he’s sleeping out to-night. I’ll go and see.”
“That’s right,” Swithin encouraged him, “and while you’re gone I’ll write that note for Mr. Tyndall-Williams which will let you out if we come up against any trouble.”
He sat down to the hall table and scribbled a brief line on a memo form, telling the first secretary that he had had to go out on an urgent private affair and had borrowed the Embassy van.
It was only just completed when Halket came downstairs again gingerly carrying two pistols, one in each hand. They were a heavy Mark V British service revolver, and a 9 mm Webley and Scott automatic. He handed them over with extreme care and then produced a couple of handfuls of ammunition from his pockets.
“They are not loaded, sir,” he said to Swithin. “But I’ve always thought them to be very dangerous things all the same.”
Swithin took them, passed the automatic to Peter and began to load up. “Well,” he smiled, “I only hope we have no occasion to use them, but thank you for getting them all the same. Here is the note for Mr. Tyndall-Williams. You can give it to him if we fail to get back by one o’clock but not before that, please.”
“Very good, sir. If you will come this way I will show you to the van.”
They followed Halket out and walked after him round to the side of the Embassy. The canvas-covered Ford van had already been got out of the garage and stood there waiting for them. Swithin told Murad the corner at which they wished to be set down, then he climbed in and turned to say good-bye to Diana.
“Manners my love, manners,” she said, scrambling after him into the low box back of the van. “I do think you might have helped me up.”
“What the helll” he exclaimed. “Darling, you’re not coming. Out you get!”
She shook her golden head. “I only pray your luck holds, but what an amateur you are really, my sweet. Who do you think is going to make certain that the launch is still there—or have it got out again if it’s not—unless I do. You have admitted yourself that it needs two
of you to get into the house. Somebody has got to make certain that you have a clear getaway.”
“Diana, I won’t have it,” he said sharply.
“I’m afraid you’ve got to.” She sat down on the floorboards. “Don’t be a fool, darling, please. I’m not running the slightest risk. All I intend to do is to see that the launch is ready for you and sit in it until you come. If you don’t turn up after you’ve been inside for half an hour, I shall go off to the yacht, stir up father and Sir Francis, who is probably still with him—and try and bring you help.”
“In that case …” he hesitated. “But swear that you won’t move a yard from the launch.”
“I swear. Come on Peter. Hop in.”
Peter stepped up, and all three arranged themselves for the journey; then Murad closed the doors of the van, shutting them into a petrol-smelling darkness.
The Ford jolted, and moved off. The hard floor-boards were distinctly uncomfortable, but Diana leaned against Swithin, and Peter leaned against the canvas side.
Murad was perhaps a better electrician than chauffeur, but after ten minutes’ severe bumping the van halted. They all scrambled to their feet. Swithin put his hand upon the door to push it open, but as he did so the van suddenly moved forward again. They clutched at each other in the darkness and Peter fell. The other two pulled him to his feet, then the van stopped a second time.
Swithin put his arm round Diana and kissed her. “We’ll probably arrive in a hurry,” he said huskily, “do be careful, sweet.”
“I’ll be careful,” she whispered back, “but what do you think I’m going to feel like, waiting for you in that boat—I hate you for having let me in for this.”
“Not really.”
“Oh of course not, you dear fool, but be as quick as you can, every moment is going to be an agony.”
Swithin pressed the door again. It did not give. “Murad,” he called, realising that the van doors had a snap lock.
“Yes,” answered a voice. “One moment, sir.”
They waited and then Swithin called again.
“We have arrived,” cried Murad and he flung open the doors.
Swithin stepped out. Diana followed. For a moment their eyes were dazzled by bright lights, then they realised that they were standing in a courtyard.
“Where the devil are we?” exclaimed Peter, who had tumbled out after them.
“Welcome to my house,” piped a thin reedy voice, and as their eyes mastered the glare, they saw the Eunuch, vast, sardonic, chuckling, standing under the archway of a porch. Three soldiers stood on either side of him, their rifles levelled.
A moment later Prince Ali walked out of the house, saluted, and bowed jerkily to Diana.
“It is a pleasure to see you here, Miss Duncannon,” he said quickly. “When we have dealt with these gentlemen you and I will be able to continue our conversation—from the point at which it was so rudely interrupted at Maidenhead.”
CHAPTER XXVI
TWO GO HOME
In a second Diana realised what had happened. The self-satisfied smile on the face of the Turk-hating Mr. Murad told the whole story.
He was one of the Eunuch’s men, of course, planted in the Embassy and, she thought, in what a job for a secret agent. As the household electrician and handyman he could listen in on telephones or, without arousing the least suspicion, visit every room in the place under the perfect cover of a little bag of tools.
He had probably been keeping an eye on them ever since Swithin’s arrival that afternoon, and when Halket had gone along to arrange for a car had jumped at the chance of taking them all for a ride. How he must have laughed to himself when Swithin had named Kazdim’s house as their destination, but instead of dropping them at the corner he had driven them right into the courtyard. That first halt had been when he was getting the gate open and now they were in a pretty mess.
Diana’s mind was naturally a quick one and these logical conclusions passed through it in less time than it took Prince Ali to speak his brief ironical greeting. Even before he had finished her hands had shot out and grabbed Swithin and Peter each by an arm.
The soldiers were six men of Prince Ali’s own regiment of Lazzes. Obviously his personal bodyguard who had come with him on his visit to the Eunuch in the second of two large cars which stood a few feet from the van. She knew that at the least sign of resistance Swithin and Peter would be shot down. It would be instant death to fight or run. So she dug her fingers into the two men’s arms and pulled them backwards with all her strength.
Prince Ali gave a sharp order. The soldiers closed in. Two of them remained with their rifles at the ready while the other four seized Swithin and Peter, dragging them away from Diana. Both knew that the time for putting up a fight had passed. Her prompt action had prevented it.
With another jerky little bow the Prince stepped forward and offered his arm to Diana. She placed her hand lightly on it and allowed him to lead her into the house. The Eunuch signed to the soldiers. They followed, pushing Swithin and Peter along in front of them. Kazdim and the other two brought up the rear.
They crossed a spacious tiled hall, with a gallery running round above it, and a fountain playing in a marble basin at its centre. Then passed into a small, comfortably furnished room, with book-lined shelves and one tall window. A great satinwood desk, from which a semicircular portion had been cut to accommodate the stomach of its owner, and a specially made swivel chair of encnnous proportions behind it, showed the room to be the Eunuch’s special sanctum.
Prince Ali handed Diana to an armchair near the door and she sat down in it. She was very pale but her hands did not shake as she opened her bag, took out her case, and produced a cigarette. Ali lit it for her with a quick flick of his patent lighter.
Swithin and Peter were marched in, each held by two soldiers, and their party lined up against the wall. The Prince perched himself on the edge of the desk; he was obviously in an excellent humour for he nodded at the Eunuch and said, “You may be seated, Kazdim.”
The elephantine Chef de Police bowed silently and sank into his special chair, as the Prince rapped out to the Lazzes, “Search those two men for arms.”
Rough hands were run over Swithin and Peter. The Mark V British Service revolver and the 9 mm Webley and Scott automatic duly came to light and were placed upon the Eunuch’s desk.
Diana was thinking quickly. Wondering what chance they had of escaping from this hornets’ nest into which they had been driven blindfold. She remembered the note that Swithin had left with Halket to be given to Tyndall-Williams at one o’clock. The first secretary would know then what had happened to them. But what would he do? What could he do, except see that Sir Francis registered an official protest against their detention in the proper quarter. It was hardly likely that any action would be taken on it before the morning and—so many things might happen between now and then. Diana stared at the carpet and drew very hard upon her cigarette.
Swithin was also thinking of that note and once more cursing his own stupidity. Feeling that it was not for him to give away Peter’s calamity, he had said nothing of the loss of the packet containing the Kaka wafer or even where he meant to go—merely that he had borrowed the van for private purposes. When Tyndall-Williams received it and learned from Halket that Diana and Peter had gone out at the same time, he would doubtless be anxious enough about them all, but quite helpless to make a protest, since he would not have the faintest idea where they had gone—so they could not expect any help from that quarter. Swithin glanced at the tall window. It led on to the balcony; as he had guessed the Eunuch’s room looked over the garden, but with the bodyguard of Lazzes in the house any attempt to break away and make a dash for it would be utterly futile, he and Peter would be shot down before they got five yards. He looked across at Diana and then quickly away again. She was taking it marvellously well—but … He swallowed hard and bit the inside of his lip.
“Out on the balcony,” snapped Ali to one of his men, a
nd to another, “you will remain outside the door. The rest of you can get back to the courtyard.”
With military precision they obeyed his order. There was a quick rattle of arms as five of them marched out of the room, and the sixth disappeared through the open window to commence pacing up and down the long balcony. The prisoners now remained alone with Ali and the Eunuch.
Peter stared at the two of them. It was through his folly that his friends had been landed in this grim situation, and he felt that it was up to him to make some sort of effort, however desperate, to get them out of it. Now that the guards had gone he weighed the chances of risking an attack. The Eunuch, having looked to see that it was loaded, was toying with the Webley Scott automatic behind his desk, a good fifteen feet away. Peter saw that he would almost certainly be shot before he could reach the desk and grab the service revolver, which still lay on it, but in the excitement Swithin and Diana might get away. They might, but how about the sentry who was pacing up and down the balcony—and the other one outside the door. Even if Swithin could tackle the first the chances were that he would be shot in the back by the second while lowering Diana over the balcony into the garden—and Prince Ali could hardly be expected to remain neutral. He had probably got a gun on him somewhere as well.
Concealing his thoughts was not one of Peter’s strongest characteristics, and as his eyes switched from side to side the Prince divined his speculations.
“It is no use Mr. Carew,” he said quietly. “If you lift a finger you will be shot down like a rat. That will not make much difference to you of course as you are to be shot down quite soon in any case, but it would be a courtesy on your part to spare Miss Duncannon the unpleasantness of seeing your brains scattered on the carpet.”
The Eunuch of Stamboul Page 33