Cub spoke quietly and calmly, but his brain was racing. He felt sick inside, for he realised that of all the tight corners that Gimlet had been in, he was now in the tightest.
The chances of it happening were always on the boards. Reasonable precautions had been taken. They had failed. That's all there was to it. No one was to blame. The thing might have happened anywhere at any time. In his heart he had no hope of seeing Gimlet again, alive, but to save his sanity he felt that they must do something. "I'll go and let the parson know that Gimlet won't be back,' he said dully. "Then we'll hit the road for London."
Gimlet was not in the hall. His disappearance had created a sensation. No one knew why he had gone, the parson said. Cub did not enlighten him. He merely explained that Gimlet had been called away on duty and would not be coming back. They would have to conclude the show without him. Then he hastened to the car where the others were waiting, Copper at the wheel, the engine running. "Okay—step on it," he said quietly. "
Make for Brummel Square first. We shall have to let the General know what has happened—not that he'll be surprised, I fancy."
CHAPTER xi
BACK TO TOWN
THE car ran straight to headquarters, arriving in the early hours of the morning. The General was, of course, in bed. Cub aroused him and told him of what had happened.
The General's instant and rather obvious plan was to throw a police cordon round the chapel and then send in a special squad to clean the whole place up.
To this, with due respect, Cub objected, on the grounds that it would involve delay when every minute was precious. The Werewolves, he declared, might even at that moment be putting Gimlet to death. Again, an official police raid could not be made without a certain amount of noise. Whether Gimlet was on the chapel premises or not this would alarm the Werewolves who were there. They might still escape. It was hardly likely, he asserted, that they had failed to make provision for such a contingency.
"What do you suggest, then?" asked the General, quickly getting into his clothes.
"I suggest, sir, that you proceed with your plans for raiding the place, but give us time to do what we can, first. We'll go straight on down and try to find a way in without creating any disturbance. Copper—that is, Corporal Colson—is an expert at getting into a place.
If he can't find a way into the chapel I shall be surprised."
"I see. The main thing is, you want to be inside the chapel building before we arrive?"
"That's right, sir. Your men can stand fast while all remains quiet; but should anything like a rough house start they had better come right in and mop the place up."
To this the General agreed. "Have you got everything you're likely to require?" he asked.
"We've got guns and torches—they should be enough, sir," replied Cub.
He returned to the car where he found the others waiting with irritable impatience.
"Here, come on; what's all the jawing about?" muttered Copper. "What about it?"
"Push along to the chapel. I'll give you the set-up as we go," answered Cub.
In twenty minutes, without incident, Copper brought the car to a stop in the Whitechapel Road just short of the turning in which the chapel was situated. Apart from an occasional pedestrian the street at that hour was deserted. It was still dark although dawn was not far off. Leaving the car as it stood they all walked on through the gloom towards the objective.
"Even if Gimlet ain't 'ere I'll bet that rat Wenson and his thugs will know where he's bin taken to," said Copper in a low voice.
"He wouldn't be likely to tell us," Cub pointed out.
"Is that so?" breathed Copper grimly. "Wenson will answer my questions or I'll twist his wolf's head off 'is shoulders with my bare 'ands—and I ain't kiddin'."
There was no sign of life as they approached the chapel, but Cub, remembering the tramp in the porch suspected by Gimlet of being a sentry, asked the others to stand fast for a moment while he went on alone. Advancing cautiously on tip-toe, making no more noise than a shadow, he peered through the railings. The tramp was there; at least, there was a dark motionless heap, which told Cub what he wanted to know. Backing away he conveyed the information to the others.
"Leave 'im ter me," breathed Copper.
"No noise," warned Cub.
"There won't be no noise, mate," murmured Copper meaningly.
They moved on, slowly, silently, Copper now leading. The progress was maintained until the railings were reached. Copper stopped and drew a deep breath. When he moved again it was with such speed that even Cub, prepared for something of the sort, was startled. One vault took Copper over the railings. There was a scuffle and a sharp intake of breath, cut short by a double thump.
Copper reappeared. "Okay," he said softly. "He's sleepin' as peacefully as a baby—and e'
ll stay asleep for a little while, I reckon."
The others joined him within the precincts of the chapel. The tramp lay in a huddled heap in a corner of the porch. "Which way now?" asked Copper.
"I think we ought to give the place the onceover from the outside to see if any lights are showing," whispered Cub. "If there aren't any you might try getting through the window you used on Sunday."
"Suits me," agreed Copper.
"What about this guy?" inquired Trapper, indicating the unconscious sentry.
"I swiped 'im pretty hard," answered Copper. "E should be all right for half an hour or so if I know anything about it."
"The police can pick him up when they come," put in Cub. "We're wasting time. Let's look round."
A cautious reconnaissance of the chapel premises revealed no signs of activity. Not a light showed anywhere.
"Come on, let's get into the joint," growled Copper impatiently.
Groping his way along a narrow alley he stopped under the window which, he said, was the one he had used on the previous occasion. Entry then had been affected by the simple method of using the blade of his knife to turn the hasp. He tried the same method now; but he did not succeed in opening
the window. Instead, he dropped back to inform the others that he was a fool to suppose that the same trick would work twice. Counter-measures had been taken. They took the form of a wedge to prevent the hasp from being turned, and iron bars arranged horizontally across the window frame. "We'd need a hacksaw to cut a way in and we didn't bring one with us," he lamented. "No use wasting time fetching one. We shall have to find another way in. If there ain't one it'll be the first time I've bin beat."
They tried the front door of the church, not expecting to find it open. Their expectations proved correct. It was locked.
"No use," muttered Copper, feeling the heavy timber. "It'd take axes ter knock a 'ole through that, and even then it wouldn't be no easy job."
"It would also make a certain amount of noise," Cub pointed out sarcastically.
"Let's try round the back," suggested Copper.
It was soon discovered that as the one window had been treated, so had the others. As each in turn was tried it was found to be barred.
"Okay, don't worry," murmured Copper. "I'll bet there's one they've forgot. It'll be either the pantry or the lavatory. People usually make the mistake of thinkin' they're too small fer a man ter get through. It's easy. You'll see."
He was right. A small window had been left out of the general scheme. It was so small that Cub looked at it doubtfully. Then he tried to climb through, head first.
Copper pulled him back. "Not that way—silly," he growled. "You'll get your shoulders stuck. Catch hold of the sill with your 'and and pull yourself through feet first."
Cub tried the new method and to his surprise, after some slight wriggling, found that he could slide through, landing, of course, on his feet instead of his head, as would have been the case had he succeeded in his own method. Switching on his torch he found himself in a small pantry. This told him that he was in the living quarters attached to the chapel. Again he caught the whiff of iodoform. He tried the doo
r. It was unlocked and gave access to a passage. The silence was of a tomb. He took pains not to break it.
Advancing with infinite care he found the back door. It was locked and bolted. Still taking the greatest possible care not to make the slightest noise, he unfastened the door.
Copper and Trapper stepped in, Trapper closing the door behind him.
"Where are we?" whispered Copper.
"We're in the house attached to the back of the chapelWenson's living quarters, I imagine," answered Cub.
"Let's explore."
"All right. Hark!" Cub did no more than breathe the last word.
Somewhere at no great distance a door had opened and closed. For the two or three seconds it was open a faint murmur of conversation could be heard. This was cut off by the closing of the door.
"They're still here, anyway," whispered Copper. "Let's look round. Cub, you're lightest on yer feet—you go first. I shall be close handy if you bump into trouble. Use yer torch, but switch it off if you hear anyone amovin'."
In silent procession they made their way along the corridor and presently came to a door on the left. Very slowly Cub turned the handle and opened it, first an inch, then more. It was the vestry, the scene of his encounter with Wenson and the doctor. The room was unoccupied. A door at the far side, he knew, gave access to the church. He glanced into it, but all was in darkness.
"We shall 'ave ter get a move on; it'll start ter get daylight in less than no time,"
whispered Copper.
Proceeding, they had only taken a pace or two when Cub halted again. He looked at the others, raising his eyebrows. Speech was unnecessary. Near at hand two people were engaged in conversation. The voices came from behind the next door on the right. Cub jerked a thumb. "In there," he breathed.
Even as the words left his lips a hand was laid on the door handle from the far side. His torch was out instantly, but it made no difference. The door of the room swung open and the corridor was flooded with light.
What followed occurred faster than it can be told. The man who had opened the door was the doctor—Doctor Guthram Paul. Cub recognised him instantly. The doctor was still talking when he opened the door, but when he saw the invaders in the corridor the words died on his lips. For a split second, while the reek of iodoform flooded out of the room, no one moved; then the doctor, with a single action, slammed the door; but not before Cub had caught a glimpse of the interior of the room. He did not see much, but what he saw was significant. A man, obviously the patient with whom the doctor had been talking, was lying on a small bed of the 44camp)) type. From behind the closed door came a shout of alarm.
"Get going, Copper," rapped out Cub. "It's our only chance now.), Copper needed no second invitation. Now that they were discovered the need for stealth had gone. Putting his foot against the lock he sent the door crashing inwards, the lock torn from the woodwork. His war experience made him sidestep automatically as the door went in; and it was as well that he did so, for a pistol crashed. The bullet crossed the corridor to bury itself with a vicious thud in the wall. The lights went out, but Trapper was already shooting. Cub could see the sparks streaming from the muzzle of his gun to end at a stumbling figure. He switched on his torch, and by that time the doctor was on the floor. The patient was no longer in the bed. The clothes had been flung off, and the man might have made his escape had he not in his haste caught the tail of his pyjama jacket in the door by which he was leaving the room. Foolishly, as it fell out, he opened the door again to release
himself. He would have done better to discard his jacket. With a bound Copper had crossed the room. Reaching out he caught the fugitive by the back of his pyjamas, dragged him back and flung him on the bed, where he lay panting.
"Never mind him," said Cub tersely. "There must be others. It's Gimlet we want."
There was only one way to go, and that was through the door by which the sick man tried to leave. It opened into a corridor. Down this Copper sped to fling open a door at the far end. Cub was hard on his heels, but he now stopped short, astonished at the sight that met his gaze.
Before them was a long low room which, since it ran under the chapel, was actually a cellar, but a cellar much larger than a genuine place of worship could have demanded for any proper purpose. The walls, Cub noted at a glance, were of concrete. But for the furnishings the place might have been a public air raid shelter; and, Cub thought, during the war it might well have been used for such a purpose by those who frequented the chapel. The furnishings were curious. They reminded Cub of a courtroom. So much he observed in one sweep of the eyes. At the same time he noted subconsciously that the atmosphere was warm. This, and a faint aroma of tobacco smoke gave the impression that the place had recently been occupied. However, there was no time for attention to details, for with a shout Copper was on the move again, fairly leaping across the seating accommodation towards an aperture in the wall that had just started to close. This aperture was, in fact, a sliding door, the moving part being to all appearances concrete as solid as the walls. Seeing that he would not reach it in time to prevent its closure Copper snatched up a heavy chair and flung it into the gap. The door crushed it slightly, then stopped, from which it was evident that the machinery operating the device was of no great strength.
"Watch your step !" cried Cub in a warning voice, as Copper, ignoring risks of which he must have been aware, went on towards the opening.
Copper, growling a remark which Cub did not catch, raced on. Revolver in hand he jumped over the chair into the darkness beyond. Cub held his breath, filly expecting shots, but none came.
Trapper now joined Cub. "I've tied that guy to the bed," he announced. "Where's Copper?"
Cup pointed.
"Let's go," snapped Trapper.
Cub jumped over the chair. His torch revealed a narrow subway. The walls were of brick and obviously of fairly recent construction. Somewhere ahead, at a distance impossible to judge, a nebulous area of light was dancing. Cub made it out to be someone running in front of him, holding a torch, presumably Copper; it struck him as a most dangerous thing to do, but it was obviously impossible to proceed without a light of some sort. A pistol shot crashed, another, and another, and bullets came slithering and scuttering as they ricochetted from floor to walls along the tunnel. After that the only sound was the echoing thud of running feet. It was a weird, unreal effect, and Cub was not sorry when he came upon Copper standing at a point, a junction, where the tunnel ran into a subway of greater size. Here the brickwork was much older, besides being in a foul condition, and for a moment Cub wondered what they had struck. A ledge, a sort of catwalk about two feet wide running along one side of the tunnel, gave him a clue. He recalled seeing a picture of such a place in one of the illustrated magazines.
"This is one of the old London sewers," he told the others.
Copper answered that he already knew that. What worried him was, he could turn to left or right, and he was uncertain which way to go.
Trapper answered the question. After examining the ledge closely in the light of his torch he pointed to the right. "That's the way they went," he declared, and the pursuit was resumed as fast as circumstances would permit.
Cub, being lightest on his feet, took the lead. A sound of splintering woodwork some distance ahead spurred him on, and before he had gone far, grey light, light that could only be daylight, appeared at no great distance. As he drew near he saw that it came from a large jagged hole, as if the end of the tunnel had been boarded over and someone had smashed a way through it. Figures could be seen silhouetted against the light. There appeared to be several. He put on a spurt, and a moment later all lesser sounds were drowned in the throbbing roar of a powerful engine. Out of the corners of his eyes he noticed that the floor of the sewer, below him and on the left, was now a turgid stream of water along which surged sinister ripples. It did not require much imagination to guess the cause. The engine that he could hear was the power unit of a boat of some sort.
; With his attention now focussed on the figures that loomed darkly against the eerie light, Cub tore on. Sometimes the figures were a confused blur; at other times they seemed to open and close as they sank down into what he soon made out to be a boat. Then one of the figures detached itself from the rest. There was a shout. An arm was raised. It fell, and as it fell the detached figure recoiled and disappeared. There was a loud splash.
Instantly the roar of the engine became deafening; then, as suddenly, it began to recede.
Panting, Cub arrived at the end of the tunnel just in time to see a motor boat in which several figures were hunched, fade into a pea-soup fog that hung low over the sullen waters of a large river which could only be the Thames. He perceived that dawn had broken, but he wasted no time in contemplation of it. Sick with disappointment he climbed through the jagged hole, which he now saw had been knocked through a large advertisement hoarding facing the river, and stared about him. There was nothing he could do. There was no way to
left or right. Water lapped at his feet. Remembering the splash he had heard he looked down at the water, not really expecting to see anything; but as he stared there was a swirl, and for a second a pallid face broke the surface. Shouting to the others who now ran up behind him he threw off his jacket and jumped in. Not knowing the depth of the water he dare not risk a dive. The sudden immersion nearly paralysed him, but groping about he found what he sought. His fingers closed in the material of a garment and he came up dragging a body with him. It was heavy, so heavy that alone he could not have got it out; but Copper, seeing his plight, helped him. Gasping, dripping water, Cub got to his knees to see Gimlet trying to do the same thing. Copper and Trapper were helping him.
Gimlet was conscious, but seemed half dazed. He was in a dreadful state. There was mud on his clothes and blood on the side of his face. His collar had been wrenched back to front and his hands had been fastened behind him with a piece of cord. This Copper lost no time in removing. Trapper gave Gimlet a handkerchief to wipe his face. Situated as they were there was nothing more they could do.
04 Gimlet Mops Up Page 10