A Rope For the Baron

by John Creasey

  John.’

  She read it twice, and then hurried down to the bar.

  Later that night, a detective watching the house where Galliard was staying, reported that Galliard had left in a hurry, to return a little more than a hour later with two girls.

  ‘Could be the two girls from the house-boat,’ Dando said to Bristow.

  ‘I should put another man on to watch that house,’ advised Bristow.

  Out on the lonely moor, lights shone from the windows of Hallen House. A car raced along the winding road, and the headlights shone on a pile of rocks which concealed two hardy detectives whom Dando had detailed for that bleak job. The men recognised Harrison’s Bentley, with a driver and two passengers, whom they did not recognise. As soon as the car was out of sight, one of the detectives walked across to a motor-cycle and side-car equipped with a radio, and a message was flashed back to Corwellin.

  That was routine; there was nothing surprising about Harrison’s return. Where he had been was of far greater importance.

  The front of the great building shone in the headlamps, until the car disappeared round the side of the house.

  An hour later, darkness descended over the moor.

  ‘Queer thing,’ said one of the detectives; ‘they seem to have switched off all the lights.’ He yawned. ‘Hell of a beat, this. Who the devil expects Mannering to come back here?’

  The door of Hallen House was opened by Mrs. Dent, who peered blankly at Harrison and Foss. If she saw that they were pale and bruised, she made no comment, and she led the way to the room where Mannering had first been received.

  Bellamy was sitting in front of the fire, a book resting on his black rug.

  He saw the bruises.

  ‘Why, Jim—’ he began.

  ‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ Harrison burst out.

  ‘What have you been doing wrong, Jim?’

  ‘That’s right, blame me. Well, I’m not to blame.’

  Bellamy said: ‘Foss—’

  ‘There’s no one to blame but yourself!’ snapped Harrison. ‘We oughtn’t to have stayed here. We ought to have gone when Mannering got away. I’ve always said so.’

  ‘But then, you’re so often wrong. Sit down, Jim – and you, Foss. You’d better not have spirits with those bruised heads, I’ll send for some coffee. Have you had dinner?’

  ‘Coffee—dinner! We’ve got to get out, I tell you!’ roared Harrison. ‘The girls are free!’

  ‘Are they, indeed,’ murmured Bellamy. ‘Well, that’s too bad. I thought they were going to behave themselves, and I felt sure that Foss would be able to look after them – with your help. You and the guard were watching the cottage, Jim, weren’t you?’

  ‘What the hell does that—’

  ‘Weren’t you?’

  ‘They went off for a drink,’ Foss said.

  ‘I see. Yet it wasn’t your fault, Jim. You have some mighty queer ideas, boy.’

  The door opened and Mrs. Dent appeared.

  ‘Bring supper, with some strong coffee,’ Bellamy said. ‘Now, Jim. Where are the girls? With the police?’

  Harrison growled: ‘I don’t know. I doubt it.’

  ‘I think you had better tell me exactly what had happened,’ said Bellamy. He had not once raised his voice, but there was cold anger in his eyes.

  Foss began the story, and Harrison finished it. Neither man made any further attempt to excuse himself. When it was over, Bellamy told the others to get on with the supper, and while they ate, he sat looking into the fire, as if nothing at all disturbing had happened. But his very silence held a menace, and Harrison could not stand the strain.

  ‘What the devil are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m trying to decide,’ said Bellamy. ‘We have a great deal to think about, but the key is—Mannering.’

  ‘You’ve got Mannering on the brain. If you hadn’t been scared of him, you’d never have brought him down here. You made a mistake—’

  ‘Well, son, I’m not the only one who makes mistakes, am I?’ asked Bellamy gently. ‘Don’t get worked up. That man called himself a friend of Mannering’s. How tall was he?’

  ‘About my height, but what does—’

  ‘And his build?’

  ‘Do you think I took his measurements?’

  ‘Now, Jim! How did he compare with—well, let’s say Mannering for size? About the same?’ Harrison stared at him without speaking, and Bellamy nodded. ‘Obviously, yes, about Mannering’s size. And blond – ever heard of peroxide, Jim?’

  Harrison pushed his chair back.

  ‘If you’re trying to tell me that fellow was Mannering, you’ve got another guess coming!’ He swung round on Foss. ‘There wasn’t a scrap of likeness, was there?’

  ‘Disguise isn’t difficult. An expert can work wonders,’ Bellamy said. ‘And the light isn’t very good at the cottage. By all accounts, you had knocked him about pretty badly before you were able to take a good look at him. It may have been Mannering. Whether it was or not, Jim, I guess we’ve got to hand it to Mannering for finding a “friend” when he wanted one so badly. Yes, sir, we’ve got to hand it to Mannering. But, he won’t want the girls to talk to the police. He won’t want them to hear about the little games at the cottage yet. Unless the police know where the girls are—’

  ‘They’re bound to find out sooner or later!’

  ‘Oh, sure. The question is – will it be sooner or later?’ Bellamy shifted his position slightly. ‘Jim, I’m not a fool. And although I trust you so far, I can’t rely on you to keep a still tongue in your head. You weren’t frightened enough before to be told what I’m arranging, but I think you are now. We’re leaving soon. All four of us – you two, Emma Dent, and I. We’re leaving the country, Jim.’

  Harrison sprang up. ‘And you didn’t tell me!’

  ‘Because I think you would have told the servants, and we can’t take them all. The police will almost certainly raid the place soon. No one else must know what we’re planning, and we want thirty-six hours’ start, Jim.’

  Foss and Harrison were staring at him tensely.

  An aeroplane will arrive here from France the day after tomorrow. It is due at dawn. I couldn’t arrange it any sooner. But you two and Emma will have to get busy, because we want all the jewels packed up, and we want all the stuff that we can take put into small crates. You’ll have to work through tonight and tomorrow until it’s finished. We’ve done very well, but now – we’ll have to leave. I shall be sorry and yet—’ He shrugged his shoulders, and smiled faintly. ‘Well, haven’t we done well, Jim? We ‘ve a fortune in this house. Thanks to our combined efforts.’ He turned to Foss. ‘Of course, you needn’t come with us, son. If you’d rather stay and take charge yourself, you’ll be the Boss. Foss the Boss! It’s been a good sideline, and there are a lot of pickings left for a smart young man like you.’ Foss gave a twisted smile. ‘I’m coming.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Bellamy. He took out a cigar-case, selected a Havana, pierced it with the end of a match and lit it carefully. ‘Yes, Jim, I knew we might have to go when Mannering escaped. And let’s face it, son. Things have moved very quickly since then, very quickly. I think I could have bluffed it out if they’d caught Mannering earlier, but now both he and the girls are free – well, that’s an end to it. I guess if you look hard you can see the funny side. Because Lark went to Perce Grey for help, didn’t he? And got it! Perce has been working very nicely with Foss, here, but didn’t know that Foss was working for me. And I brought Lark down because of some of those beautiful gems he managed to get for me. You know,’ he smiled faintly, ‘I think I know why Lark decided to rent that furnished house. I do believe he thought he might be able to break into Hallen House and rob us. But murder put him off – Lark’s kind are always afraid of the rope.’

  Foss said thinly: ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘Of course you don’t,’ said Bellamy, ‘but you needn’t worry about it. It’s ironical, isn’t it, Jim? If Lark hadn’t been
here, Mannering wouldn’t have got any help, and maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Well, there it is. You think the police are bound to find out what you’ve been doing, Foss, don’t you?’

  ‘They’ll break up the smuggling,’ Foss said. ‘And the farther away I am, the better.’

  ‘I guess you’re right. Now we’ve got to work, and work hard. No more running to and fro. We’ll get all the small stuff crated and ready to take away, and if there is any trouble from the police – well, I guess we’ll hide in the vaults and get out when the aeroplane’s due. But we needn’t anticipate it. I don’t reckon the police will come again for a while.’

  Harrison said harshly: ‘I hope you’re right. But if Stella talks about Ashton—’

  ‘Yes, I know, that’s the danger. But she’ll be so frightened that we’ll kill him, she probably won’t talk. We’ll have to hope for the best, Jim, that’s all we can do – and work, mind you.’ He drew on his cigar. ‘We’ll have a man in the tower watching, so that if anyone approaches we’ll see them miles away, and have plenty of warning. You boys finished your meal? Then I guess it’s time we went downstairs and got started.’

  The three men gathered in front of the huge sideboard in the Great Hall. Harrison was holding a candle, and the flickering light shone eerily on their faces. Bellamy, leaning forward in his chair, ran his fingers along some of the carving, and a piece moved outwards. In the plain wood beyond was a small keyhole. He inserted a key; there was a click as the lock turned.

  Bellamy wheeled his chair away.

  Harrison lowered the candle and pulled at a head of one of the carved warrior figures. The end of the sideboard opened, leaving a space just wide enough for the wheelchair to go through. But in front there appeared to be only the blank wall.

  Harrison this time used a key, which Bellamy gave him.

  He pushed open a door in the wall and, holding the candle high, led the way along a passage which sloped downwards. The door swung to behind them. Bellamy braked the wheelchair with his hands. Twenty yards along the passage they came upon an oil walllamp; Harrison lit it, then lit others which were placed at intervals of ten feet. The passage was circular, and went downwards all the way. Eventually they reached what appeared to be a blank wall, but closer inspection showed a doorway. Again Harrison used a key, and pushed the door open.

  ‘Help Jim prepare some lights,’ said Bellamy.

  Foss obeyed.

  The flames of the oil lamps burned steadily behind glass mantles, revealing a large chamber, almost as large as the Great Hall. The walls were of dark stone, the ceiling was high and gloomy. In one corner was a door over which a single light had been burning when they entered. Several large safes stood against the far wall, and Harrison and Bellamy went to them. As the door swung open, the yellow light shone on precious stones.

  Placed neatly against the wall were small, exquisite objets d’art, of untold value. In another corner were small packing cases of strong wood, and a bench on which were hammers, nails, strands of packing wire, and tools for pulling the wire tight to secure the cases. Next to the bench was packing material.

  ‘We ought to have started this before,’ Harrison grumbled.

  ‘It is easy to be wise after the event,’ said Bellamy, ‘and I hoped that I shouldn’t have to move. Mannering—’

  ‘Oh, forget Mannering!’

  ‘I shall never do that,’ said Bellamy softly. ‘But for him, no move would have been necessary. I think he will live just long enough to regret it.’ There was steel in his voice. ‘Because, before we leave, I shall leave a “confession,” Jim. I shall admit to my share in the crimes—not yours, don’t worry, not yours!—and I shall give a detailed explanation of how Mannering and I worked together. How we quarrelled. How he came here intent on robbing me, and Holmes caught him in the act. There’ll be a rope for Mannering!’

  Harrison stared at the pale face.

  ‘You—devil!’

  ‘Now don’t you get soft-hearted, Jim. You know what I think about Mannering. And what I think about Ashton. I’ll go and see Ashton, but you two must set to work.’

  The two men turned to the bench, while Bellamy wheeled himself to the door in the corner. He took out another key, opened the door, and went inside.

  The light was not so good in here.

  It was a small ‘room’; a cell. A camp bed stood against the wall; there was a chair, primitive furnishings – and an old man lying on the bed. Glittering eyes turned fearfully to Bellamy.

  The man was filthy. A long, straggly beard hid his features. Thin, claw-like hands clutched the lapels of his coat, but he seemed hardly to have the strength to move.

  ‘Bellamy.’ His voice was hoarse, croaking. ‘Bellamy, when are you going to let me out …?’

  Bellamy did not speak, but grinned at him as Ashton tried to get up. The prisoner’s breathing was laboured; perspiration glistened on his forehead and cheeks; veins stood out on his throat. He managed to reach a sitting position.

  ‘Bellamy, I’ve not much longer to live. I—I must …’

  Bellamy threw back his head and laughed.

  Peels of that wild laughter rang through the vaults, made Foss and Harrison shudder and stare towards the cell. Ashton cowered back.

  Bellamy stopped…

  ‘We’re leaving,’ he said, in a hard voice. ‘We’re leaving, Ashton. The police will come here soon, but they’ll never find you. They can’t find you. Understand?’

  Ashton raised his trembling hands.

  ‘If I’ve one regret, it’s that I can’t leave Mannering with you,’ said Bellamy, ‘but he’ll be looked after. He’ll hang, understand, he’ll hang. And you – damn your guts – you’ll live in eternal darkness. Darkness!’ Bellamy swung his chair round, picked up the small chair and flung it at the lamp. The glass broke; darkness descended on the tiny cell gradually relieved by the light outside.

  ‘Darkness,’ hissed Bellamy, ‘eternal darkness!’ He laughed again, swung the chair round and wheeled himself out.

  The door slammed.

  Bellamy sat outside the cell, while Ashton’s cries sank to a piteous moaning. Foss looked uneasily at the door, but Harrison took no notice of the cries. He was examining an unopened safe, built into the wall. After trying a dozen keys in the lock, he turned to Bellamy, who caught his eye and wheeled the chair towards him.

  ‘What is it, Jim?’

  ‘The jewels from the jewel-room are in here, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes. We brought them down when Mannering escaped.’

  Harrison said slowly: ‘The key’s missing, and we only had one.’ He hesitated, then blurted, ‘It was the bunch Mannering took from me this evening. I forgot to leave them behind.’

  ‘Break the safe open,’ Bellamy said.

  ‘It’s not so easy. We haven’t an oxy-acetyline torch here, and it needs an expert. I managed the jewel-room door, but I can’t manage that.’

  Foss swung round.

  ‘You mean we can’t get the sparklers?’

  ‘Not on our own.’

  After a long, tense pause, Bellamy said: ‘We’ve got to open that safe. Get Lark—’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Get Lark!’ roared Bellamy.

  Lark and Jackie walked uneasily along the darkened street near Perce Grey’s pub. They had received a message from the Corwellin Arms, saying that Harrison wanted to see Lark. Jackie had been against going out, but Lark wasn’t prepared to stay away. If Bellamy and Harrison had framed Mannering, they could frame him.

  He and Jackie had managed to slip the police when leaving the pub.

  Now, looking warily about them, they turned along a dark narrow alley leading to the High Street. At the corner a man was sitting at the wheel of a car.

  Harrison showed in the light of a match.

  ‘You wait here, Jackie,’ Lark ordered.

  ‘I doan like—’

  ‘You wait here!’

  Jackie grumbled under his breath and Lark approached
the car.

  As he reached it, a man sprang out of the darkness and struck the big man savagely over the head. Lark heard a strangled gasp, and turned – but another man appeared out of the gloom, and thrust a gun into his ribs.

  ‘Get in,’ the man growled. ‘Hurry!’

  Very soon, the car was humming along the road. On the sidewalk Jackie groaned as he came round.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A Letter For Bristow

  Bristow walked up the steps leading to the police station, nodded to the constable on duty and, whistling, went along to Dando’s office. The local Superintendent had not yet arrived; on his desk was a pile of unopened correspondence. Bristow lit a cigarette and went to the window, looking out on to the High Street. A fair-haired man was leaving a shop opposite the police station. Bristow only caught a glimpse of his face as he got into a car, but noticed that his mouth and cheeks were swollen and discoloured. ‘He’s had a nasty packet,’ mused Bristow, and saw the man climb into a Lancia.

  For some inexplicable reason, Bristow’s spirits were high that morning. It might be because he had slept well; West Country air suited the Yard man. It might be because he had thrown aside hesitation and uncertainty about Mannering. For the time being, at least, he had convinced himself that he was not interested in Mannering as an individual, only as a criminal.

  And Bristow felt in his bones that this was going to be a good day.

  There might be a letter for him in the post. His wife had promised to write to the police station, and someone might have sent a memo from the Yard.

  He sorted the letters out. Nothing for him, apparently – pity. Only two letters left—hallo, what was this? One for him after all, but not from his wife or from the Yard. It was addressed in block lettering, and the post mark was Bristol. He tore off the perforated strips of the letter-card, and opened it.

  ‘Mannering, the Devil!’

  The door opened.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Dando. ‘Did you say Mannering?’

  ‘I—er, yes, just for a moment I thought this was from him, said Bristow. He caught the opening ‘Dear Bill’; this was not for general consumption. He slipped the letter into his pocket ‘Anything much come in, do you know?’