Trouble on the Thames
Page 21
“You!”
Owen nodded. “The real truth is that they’re a gang of spies working for the Nazis. I was sent down there by the Naval Intelligence people to keep an eye on them, and like an infernal idiot, I let myself get knocked on the head. That’s absolutely between ourselves, of course. You mustn’t mention a word of it to anyone.”
Ruth looked at him scornfully. “I thought the idea that women couldn’t keep a secret was a bit out of date. You needn’t worry, anyhow.” With an angry scowl she stepped forward to the bed. “I’ll take care of Sally and get her undressed. You go downstairs and wait for the doctor.”
Accepting his dismissal meekly, Owen made his way back to the ground floor. For several minutes he paced restlessly up and down the shop, and then, unable to withstand the growing apprehension that made it impossible for him to rest or sit down, he opened the door with an impatient jerk, and looked out into the deserted street. A moment later there was a warning hoot, and the long green bonnet of the Talbot swung into view round an adjacent corner.
Before the first rush of relief had fully subsided, he found himself shaking hands with a short, round-faced man of about fifty who had bounced out of the car almost before it had come to a standstill.
“How d’ye do. Commander Bradwell, I take it? I’m Doctor Burrows.”
“Very good of you to come round so quickly.”
“Just happened to have got back from another case. Well, I’ve had a rough outline of your adventures from our friend the constable here, so I needn’t waste time in asking you any unnecessary questions. I had better go up and see the patient at once.”
“I’ll show you the way.”
Conducting his visitor inside, Owen piloted him as far as the bottom of the staircase. Then, surrendering him to the care of Ruth, who had already appeared in the lighted doorway above, he walked back to the shop entrance, where the stalwart figure of Constable Humphreys was standing patiently on the mat.
“Bit of luck catching him like that, sir,” remarked the latter complacently. “I’ll just run him home as soon as he’s finished here, and then take you along to your place.”
“Needn’t trouble about me. I’ll just get hold of a taxi.”
“Chief Inspector’s orders, sir. Said I was to drop you at your flat and then report back to the Yard.”
With a stiff salute the speaker closed the door, and lighting a much-needed cigarette, Owen wandered across to the fireplace and seated himself on the high, padded guard in front of the electric stove. The only thing he could do now was to summon up his patience and wait for the medical verdict.
At last, after what seemed like a miniature eternity, there was a sudden murmur of voices on the landing above. It was followed by the brisk tread of footsteps, and then, bag in hand, with Ruth bringing up the rear, the little round-faced police surgeon came bustling down the stairs.
“Well, I’m happy to say things might be a heap worse.” He produced a handkerchief and blew his nose vigorously. “She has been drugged right enough and pretty roughly handled, but she’s a remarkably healthy young woman, and I don’t think we need anticipate any serious ill effects.”
“That’s grand news.” For a moment Owen felt like embra-cing him.
“I have left full directions with Miss Barlow, and I will look round again first thing in the morning. She will have to stop in bed for a day or two, of course, and she certainly mustn’t be worried or excited!”
“I’ll see to that,” remarked Ruth grimly.
The doctor smiled. “In case it may be of any assistance I will ring up the Yard and give them my report. In the meantime just go on carrying out my instructions.”
He picked up his bag which he had deposited on the table, and with a slight nod to each of them marched towards the door. The next moment it had closed behind him.
“I can’t stay down here for more than a few seconds,” announced Ruth. “I’ve got to make her some coffee.” She shook back her hair and surveyed Owen with a disapproving frown. “I suppose it’s no use asking you what really happened?”
“I can tell you one thing, anyhow. The swine who doped her and made those bruises on her arms is dead.”
“Did you kill him?”
Owen shook his head. “Unfortunately someone else butted in first.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know yet. I didn’t wait to find out. All that mattered then was to get her back home as quickly as possible!”
Ruth stared at him for an instant without speaking.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” she demanded.
“Of course I am!”
“Yes, you’d be a fool if you weren’t.”
“You—you don’t mean—”
“I mean that she says that she wants you to come and see her to-morrow, and if the doctor gives his permission I suppose I shall have to humour her. She’s frightfully obstin-ate, you know.”
Owen drew in a long breath. “Ruth,” he exclaimed, “you’re a brick!”
“Thank you.” Her eyes twinkled. “If that’s your idea of a compliment, you had better keep it for Sally!”
Chapter XIV
“Everything all right, Watkins?”
“Quite, sir.”
At the sound of the familiar voice Owen uncrossed his legs and tossing aside the morning paper, hoisted himself off the sofa. He was barely on his legs before the door opened and Joe Anstey, with a bundle of letters in his hand, strode breezily into the room.
“Good Heavens! Why, you’re up and dressed.” He raised his eyebrows with an air of mock amazement. “What on earth’s the meaning of this?”
“I told you I’d make a special effort in your honour.”
“So you did, but I never imagined it would come off.” An approving slap descended on Owen’s shoulder. “Well, old son, how are you, and what’s the latest news? Anything brewing in the way of a job?”
“Just a chance, apparently. I’m lunching with Greystoke at his club, so I may be able to tell you more about it to-night.”
“Oh, they’ll find something for you: I’m certain of that. Things are moving pretty swiftly, if you ask me. Judging by the way the Air people are hustling around, they’ve got the wind up good and proper.”
“Not too soon either, I gather.” Owen glanced at his watch.
“What time is this lunch of yours?” demanded Joe.
“One o’clock. Afraid I shall have to be pushing off in a few minutes.”
“How about a drink first? I could do with one myself. You might fix up a couple while I’m having a look through this lot.”
Leaving his host perched on the edge of the table slitting open his correspondence, Owen drifted across to the sideboard. He had just completed his task, and was about to return with the two tumblers, when a sudden startled “Hello” made him swing round with an inquiring jerk.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded.
“Perhaps you can enlighten me.” Joe looked up from the letter which he was holding in his hand. “It’s from old Martin at Playford. Seems to be what you might call slightly agitated.”
With an uncomfortable sensation of guilt Owen came forward and put down the glasses.
“I suppose it’s about my clearing off and leaving my things in the punt? To tell the honest truth, I’d clean forgotten about it.”
“That so?” Joe scratched his ear. “Well, well, we are all a little absent-minded at times.” He paused. “Rather an odd coincidence that it should have been the same night that the bloke was bumped off in the bungalow. Appears to be worrying Martin quite a lot.”
Owen reflected rapidly. “Do you mind my borrowing that letter? I feel I ought to show it to Greystoke.”
“Indeed! So I wasn’t altogether wrong? Beginning to think I must have a dash of second sight or something.”
“My dear ass, there’s no need to apologise. I’ve the most profound faith in the British Navy, and I’m perfectly prepared to allow them a free hand.” With a sudden grin Joe held out the sheet of paper. “There you are, then,” he added. “Stuff it in your pocket and cut along to your luncheon party. By the way, are you coming back here afterwards?”
“Not for a little while. I’ve got to go down to Chelsea first. I’ve an appointment with an interior decorator.”
“A what?”
“An interior decorator.”
“Good Lord—don’t tell me that you’re thinking of setting up house?”
Owen gulped off his drink and strolled towards the door. “It had crossed my mind,” he admitted casually.
***
Getting up from a deserted corner in the big smoking-room, Greystoke walked forward to receive his visitor. His face looked tired and drawn.
“Ah, Bradwell, glad to see you. Come along over here and sit down.” He led the way back to his former position, and made an inviting gesture towards a comfortably padded arm-chair. Now what is it to be—sherry or a dry Martini?”
“Sherry, I think, sir.”
“You’re a sound judge; we happen to have an especially good Isabelita.”
Turning to a liveried attendant who was arranging some papers on a side table, the Captain gave his order. Then, with a half-stifled yawn, he took possession of an adjacent couch.
“Any fresh news about that young woman of yours? I have heard what the doctor had to say last night.”
“She is going on quite well.” Owen accepted a cigarette from the proffered case. “I rang up this morning and had a talk with Miss Barlow. I’m hoping to be allowed to see her this afternoon.”
“Excellent! I have a little present for her which I will entrust to your charge.”
“A present?”
“We will deal with that later. Hardwick, the First Lord, is coming along to lunch with us, and there’s a considerable amount to straighten out before he turns up. Unfortunately I couldn’t arrange to meet you earlier. I only left the Home Office about an hour ago, and since then I’ve been indulging in the luxury of a bath and a shave. Both badly needed, I can assure you.”
“You mean to say you’ve been up all night, sir?”
“Yes, we have been having a fairly strenuous time of it; and what’s more, there have been some highly remarkable developments. You understand, however, that what I am going to tell you now is entirely off the record. You will forget it as soon as you leave this room.”
Owen nodded silently.
“Our friend Craig only made one serious mistake.” Greystoke waited for a moment while the waiter presented them with their drinks. “In his hurry to get away he omitted to destroy a letter which he had been careless enough to leave in his desk. It was from a lady who lives in St. John’s Wood—a lady who rejoices in the picturesque name of Miss Olga Brandon: at least, that is what she is calling herself at present. Ever heard of her?”
Owen shook his head.
“Well, I haven’t time to enter into details just now, but it was such a suggestive document that Elliot took the responsibility of ringing the Yard and arranging for her to be detained at her own house until he could get up there and have a little heart-to-heart chat. There was still a good deal to do at Thames Ferry, and it was nearly eight o’clock before we had the pleasure of making her acquaintance. The police had been there since midnight, so she had had plenty of opportunity to think things over.
“It wasn’t too easy a job, because, strictly speaking, we hadn’t a leg to stand on. If she had kept her head and told us to go to hell we could have done nothing. Having a dash of the dago in her, however—we have discovered since that her mother was a Romanian dancer—she was already beginning to panic. As soon as I realised that, I knew how to handle her.”
Owen ground out his half-smoked cigarette, “I suppose she was the damned woman who came to the shop?”
“I ventured to assume so. She denied it at first, of course; but when we succeeded in convincing her that Craig was dead and that the game was up, her one idea was obviously to save her own neck. I am not suggesting that she told us the whole truth. The impression she was anxious to put across was that she had been completely under Craig’s influence, and that all she had ever done was to carry out his instructions.”
“She owned up to having kidnapped Sally?”
“She did—after a certain amount of pressure. She declared that she had been forced into it by threats, and that she had been too frightened to refuse. Once we had dug that admission out of her things were a lot simpler. We were able to ram home the fact that she had laid herself open to a long term of imprisonment, and that her only chance of being let off easily was by turning King’s evidence and assisting the police. She jumped at the notion almost indecently.”
“How much is her statement worth?”
“Not a great deal, but enough to convince a coroner’s jury that Craig had excellent reasons for wanting Mr. Granville Sutton out of the way. From the point of view of the Authorities, that will be distinctly helpful.”
Owen paused. “I don’t quite understand.”
“Well, as I told you before, the chief thing that the Foreign Office are afraid of at the present moment is any sensational development which would put an additional strain on their relations with Berlin. In the first place, we are shockingly unprepared for a European war; and in the second, the Cabinet is still clutching at the hope that the whole situation will somehow or other iron itself out. I have been having discussions with the Ministers concerned this morning, and as far as any future action is concerned they are all of the same opinion. With three dead men to be accounted for a certain amount of publicity is obviously unavoidable, but the slightest suggestion that there might be more at the back of it than a sort of private vendetta amongst a gang of blackmailing crooks is to be ruled out at all costs. Their contention is that now that this particular spy ring has been successfully broken up, a public exposure of its activities would be of no practical advantage and might lead to the most disastrous results. In the circumstances, it is quite possible that they may be correct.”
“How about von Manstein?”
“The Count is a gentleman of discernment. He must have tumbled to the fact that there was trouble in the offing, and in accordance with the best Hun traditions, he evidently decided to hand it over to his subordinates. He left Croydon for Paris yesterday afternoon. By now I should imagine he is probably well on his way to Berchtesgaden.”
“So what it really amounts to is that we’re in such a blue funk of Germany that the whole business has got to be hushed up.”
“Precisely; and that is one of the main reasons why I was anxious to get hold of you as soon as possible. We have to consider the position of those two girls—”
“You mean Miss Deane and Miss Barlow?”
Greystoke nodded. “Unless we can rely upon their absolute discretion something or other is almost bound to leak out. The question is, can they be trusted to keep their mouths shut? It’s asking a good deal of two young women who are naturally itching to talk about their experiences; but our only hope, as far as I can see, is to convince them of the vital importance of secrecy in the national interest. I am under the impression that you could accomplish that fact more successfully than anyone else.”
A faint tinge of colour crept into Owen’s face. “I will see what I can do, sir.” He hesitated a second. “There is just one thing I would like to know, if I’m not being too inquisitive. Who was the chap who tackled Craig and went into the river with him?”
“In a way, that is the most extraordinary part of the whole affair. A few days ago, as you probably saw in th
e papers, a man named Wilson escaped from Dartmoor. The police have been hunting for him all over the South of England. When we got the bodies out of the water Elliott recognised the fellow at once.”
“What on earth was he doing hanging about round Otter’s Holt?”
“I fancy he went there on very much the same errand as ourselves. He wanted to square accounts with its owner, who, I gather, was largely responsible for getting him into trouble. I shouldn’t be surprised, in fact, if that was his main object in breaking out of prison. What his actual plans were, and how he managed to get so far without being spotted, God alone knows. We can only assume that he was hiding amongst the bushes, and that when he saw his chance he stepped in and took it. As things are, we must regard him as a public benefactor.”
“I suppose so.” Owen smiled wryly. “I only wish I had been half as useful myself.”
“Never underrate the value of your services: the people above you will see to that all right.” Greystoke picked up his glass and finished off its contents. “And while we are on the subject,” he continued, “there is another point which I should like to get settled before we are joined by our distinguished guest. Now you have had a taste of this sort of work, how do you feel about carrying on with it? We expect to be fairly busy in our branch of the Service during the next year or two, and for a man who has no objection to risking his life at a moderate salary the outlook is distinctly promising. I am disposed to believe that it would be more up your street than sitting at a desk at the Admiralty.”
“It would indeed, sir.” Owen’s eyes brightened. “If I am not fit to go to sea any more, there is nothing I would like better.”
“Well, I think it might be arranged. We can take it for granted that our friends in Berlin have plenty of other cards up their sleeves, and since it’s my job to keep an eye on them as far as the Navy is concerned, I am allowed a fairly free hand in the matter of selecting my assistants. If I make an application for you to be transferred to my department, I have no doubt that the suggestion will be favourably received. Between ourselves, that was my idea in inviting Sir John to meet you. I felt that if you made a favourable impression on him—ah, here he is coming now! Pull yourself together, Bradwell, and we’ll see what we can do about it.”