Buldog Drummond At Bay

by Sapper

  The Jew lit a cigar before replying.

  “Are they contemplating taking any steps to remedy the state of affairs?”

  Kalinsky shrugged his shoulders.

  “How can you ever tell with these people? I drew him a picture of the air raid of the future carried out before war was declared. He merely smiled. And yet the man is uneasy.”

  “Are you prepared to put your cards on the table, Kalinsky, and give me your views of the situation?”

  “I certainly am. And I can express it in a nutshell. Unless England increases her fighting forces, war is absolutely inevitable. Nothing can stop it. The point, therefore, that we have to decide is whether we precipitate the crisis now, or whether we wait. If we wait, it is possible that this country may again become the dominating factor in the situation. If we act now, Europe as we know it ceases to exist. Which suits our book best?”

  “Absurd though it may sound, I am still frightened of England,” said Morgenstein. “She has such an astounding way of pulling her weight at the last moment.”

  “I think it is far from absurd. More, I may be illogical, but I agree with you. And I can assure you that that very point has weighed largely in my calculations. Could I but find some method of weakening her still more, or alternatively of strengthening others whom we need not name, so that the disparity of power was greater, I would not hesitate for one moment.”

  “You mean you would favour immediate action.”

  “Precisely. Would that suit you?”

  “It would. But is there any possibility of such a thing occurring?”

  “That I shall know more about a little later in the evening. Have you to return to your guests, or would you care to remain and hear for yourself?”

  “I will certainly remain. You are expecting some fresh information?”

  “I am. What its value will prove to be I cannot say: my correspondent was guarded in his letter. But hitherto I have found him a most reliable man. Emil Veight is his name.”

  “I cannot recall it,” said Morgenstein. “A good man, is he?”

  “First class.”

  Kalinsky smoked in silence for a time; then he changed the conversation abruptly.

  “Have you ever come across a peculiar institution known as the Key Club?”

  “I have heard of them,” said Morgenstein, looking slightly surprised. “Are they to be taken seriously?”

  “They take themselves very seriously indeed. Their principal aim is world peace, and the brotherhood of man. And though their aims may be idealistic, their methods are severely practical. They consist, in short, of buying confidential information on armaments from whoever they can bribe and then publishing it broadcast so that all the world shall know. And if you think into the matter it is quite an efficacious way of preserving equality between nations.”

  “You amaze me, Kalinsky. Have they done it often?”

  “On two or three occasions to my certain knowledge quite successfully. And it was in connection with them that I first met Veight. On that occasion, I fear, they were not quite so successful, though they were very useful to me. An Italian, whose name I forget, sold to one of their agents the plans of a new submarine, and Veight, by some means, heard of it. He acted with commendable promptitude. The Italian and the agent, who was returning to England with the plans, were both murdered, and Veight brought the tracings to me on the chance of my buying. I did, and they came in very useful.”

  “Really! Most interesting. But what exactly has your story got to do with the present situation?”

  “That we shall know in a few minutes: Veight said he would be here at half-past ten. And since he mentioned the Key Club in his letter, I can only conclude that something of the same sort has happened.”

  “He is a reliable man?”

  “When it pays him to be. As it does with me. And of one thing I am sure. He would not waste my time or his own unless he thought it worth while. Whether what he has to tell us is sufficiently worth while is for us to decide.”

  The sound of voices came from the lobby outside and Kalinsky glanced up.

  “The man himself, I think. Good evening, Herr Veight,” he said affably as the door opened. “You are punctuality itself. You know Herr Morgenstein?”

  “By sight and name only,” said Veight with a bow, coming into the room. “I trust you are well, m’sieur.”

  “Quite, thank you. Waiter – bring another bottle of wine. Now, Herr Veight,” he continued, as the man left the room, “I gather from your letter that you have something of interest to report. You can speak quite freely in front of Herr Morgenstein.”

  Once again Veight bowed; then he sat down and lit a cigarette.

  “Am I right in supposing, gentlemen,” he said “that the state of tension in Europe is acute?”

  “Let us proceed on that assumption,” remarked Kalinsky.

  “Am I further right in supposing,” continued Veight, “that confidential information on military matters would be particularly valuable today?”

  “That would be for us to decide,” said Kalinsky curtly.

  “Normally, m’sieur, I would agree. In this case, however, I must have something a little more definite. Naturally I am not asking you to pledge yourselves blindly in any way. But if I guarantee to deliver to you within forty-eight hours, or at the utmost seventy-two, the most closely guarded military secrets in England, what will it be worth to me? Let me make myself quite clear. You remember, m’sieur, the Guiseppi affair?”

  “Guiseppi! That was the name, Morgenstein. Yes, Veight, I do. I was discussing it before you came tonight.”

  “Good. Well, each of these secrets, gentlemen, is as valuable as those submarine plans.”

  The two financiers looked at one another.

  “If that is the case,” said Kalinsky after a pause, “I think we would be prepared to guarantee you twenty-five thousand pounds.”

  Veight shook his head.

  “Not enough, gentlemen,” he said decisively. I have to split with a man who has been working with me. The risks we have already run are enormous, and the greatest are still to come. Will you make it twenty-five thousand each?”

  Again Kalinsky glanced at Morgenstein, who gave a barely perceptible nod.

  “All right, Veight,” said Kalinsky. “Fifty thousand in all. But we must be the judges.”

  “Of that I have no fear,” said Veight quietly. “You will be satisfied with your bargain.”

  He paused as the waiter re-entered the room, and there was silence till he had finally withdrawn.

  “No fear at all, gentlemen,” repeated Veight. “Does Herr Morgenstein know anything about the Key Club, m’sieur?”

  “I told him a certain amount when discussing your letter,” said Kalinsky.

  “Then I will not waste time in explaining that part of it to him. Because, I fear, gentlemen, a certain amount of explanation is necessary over what has happened already. I will make it as short as I possibly can, but it is essential that you should understand the situation.

  “The story starts in Warsaw, two months ago, with a man named Gregoroff – Paul Gregoroff – as the chief character. The business which had taken him there was completed, and as he was sitting in the lounge of his hotel after dinner, listening to the band, he became aware of two men who were talking English at the next table. One was clearly an Englishman, the other was a Pole, and both of them were wearing the badge of the Key Club. At first he paid but little attention. Their voices were low; their general appearance was consistent with the fatuous imbecility which one expects in members of that ridiculous organisation. And then one word caught his ear very clearly. That word was ‘Gas.’

  “He endeavoured to listen more closely, but as luck would have it the band was making such an infernal din that it was quite impossible for him to hear what they were saying. But bearing in mind the recent activities of their society, he deemed it advisable to make some further inquiries. So he squared the police to have the Englishman arre
sted later on some trumped-up charge connected with his passport, but to treat him with the utmost consideration. Then, wearing a key himself, he went round to the police station.

  “The young man was, of course, overjoyed to meet a fellow-member; and when that fellow-member procured his release on the spot, accompanied by voluble expressions of regret from the police, his gratitude knew no bounds, In fact within half an hour Gregoroff was in possession of the whole story.

  “It transpired that this youth was by way of being a chemist. And he had been acting as assistant to a man in England who for some months past had been working on a new form of gas. At first Gregoroff was not greatly interested: new gases come and go, each one bringing its own antidote. But when he began to realise the properties of this particular gas, matters assumed a different aspect.

  “It seemed, then, that this young fellow had been experimented on himself, not once but many times, by the man he had been assisting. The gas was colourless, odourless, and a fraction lighter than air. It was also harmless – after its effects had worn off. But it was the effect that was interesting: complete paralysis of the limbs, absolute inability to move or speak, though hazily conscious of what was going on around, and finally loss of all feeling. According to the amount administered the duration of this condition lasted. The dose could be graded so as to produce effect for ten minutes or half an hour. But, and this was the vital fact, you were in the grip of the gas before you realised you were. And then it was too late to save yourself.

  “I will not insult your intelligence, m’sieur,” continued Veight after a pause, “by stressing the marvellous possibilities which opened out in front of Gregoroff if what this man told him was true. Moreover, since it was unlikely that he would have come all the way to Poland merely to tell a stupid lie, Gregoroff decided to proceed on the assumption that he was speaking the truth. And so, still keeping up the role of an enthusiastic member of the Key Club, whose aim was universal peace, be proceeded to pump him dry.

  “He discovered that the inventor of this gas was a man called Waldron. He was a Territorial officer in the English Royal Engineers, and in addition to being a chemist he was also a very keen soldier. It was clear, of course, that the military value of this gas was great. It could be used alone, or mixed with something else, and in either case its presence would not be detected until too late. And Waldron, being a patriotic Englishman, proposed to place his discovery so soon as it was perfected at the disposal of the British military authorities – an idea abhorrent to his assistant, though that was a fact of which Waldron was naturally unaware.

  “He blathered on about ideals – their common ideals, since he assumed Gregoroff thought as he did. And Gregoroff let him talk, though he hardly heard what he said. Because, M’sieur Kalinsky” – the speaker leaned forward in his chair. – “his mind was busy with the potentialities of this gas apart from its military value. If it was all that this boy claimed for it: if it could be manufactured without too elaborate a plant: if – well, there were many ifs, but the germ of a stupendous idea was there. Imagine the position if one was able to render a man powerless in a room in an hotel without using force, and without the slightest risk of detection from outside. No other gas would do it: it would be smelt in the passage. The same objection applied to an anaesthetic such as ether. Here, then, was the possibility of the ideal weapon. Do I interest you?”

  “Go on,” said Kalinsky quietly.

  “So Gregoroff started on the practical details, and the more he heard the better it sounded. It was cheap to make, and was easily compressible in steel cylinders. These could be of any size desired, from the massive ones suitable for work in war to smaller cylinders which could be moved by hand. Moreover, the respirator was not at all complicated, and could be carried unnoticed in a man’s pocket till it was required. In fact, there was only one hitch. This miserable youth did not know the formula. A great deal of the process he was conversant with, but there were one or two points of which he was ignorant. They were known to Waldron and Waldron only. A definite setback, as you will agree, but it had to be faced. Because by now Gregoroff was fully determined to go on with the matter.

  “The first problem was the young man himself. He was, so he told Gregoroff, in accordance with their custom, and acting on the orders of one of the leaders of England, paving the way for the secret of this gas to become worldwide. He was arranging for a Key Club representative from every country to come to England in a month or so, by which time he would have the full details at his fingertips, and he would then pass the information on to them. Fortunately he had started in the east and was working west through Europe, so he’d been caught in good time. He had given Gregoroff Waldron’s address in England, and therefore there seemed no possible object in his continued existence. And so he – er – fell in front of an express train and passed out of the picture.”

  A faint smile flickered round Kalinsky’s lips.

  “This Gregoroff of whom you speak: whom is he acting for?”

  “Himself, m’sieur,” answered Veight promptly.

  “And is he the man you mentioned at the beginning, with whom you have to split?”

  “He is,” said Veight, and paused, listening intently. Then like a flash he crossed the room and flung open the door.

  “What are you doing here?” he snarled.

  “Tidying up, sare,” came the aggrieved voice of a waiter.

  “Then get out, damn you. This place is quite tidy already. My apologies, gentlemen,” he said, coming back into the room, “but in my work one develops a sort of sixth sense. And tidying up can cover a multitude of keyholes.”

  Chapter 10

  “Such was the situation,” continued Veight as he resumed his seat, when Gregoroff got into touch with me. He did that for two reasons. First it struck him that it would probably not be a one-man job; and secondly because I have worked in England and knew the ropes far better than he did. And the instant I heard what he had to tell me I threw over everything else on the spot.

  “The problem that confronted us was obvious; the solution was not. This man Waldron was a bachelor, living in a small house on the outskirts of Surbiton. He had one old woman servant who did all the work of the house. Further – and this was important – he was of independent means, and did no work beyond his chemical research. If, therefore, it became necessary to abduct him, there would be no office from which he would be missed and which would start a hue and cry. And it seemed to us, when we discussed the matter in Amsterdam, that in all probability abduction would be necessary.

  “Our reasoning was as follows. Here was a presumably patriotic Englishman, since he was serving in their Territorial army, and a man of sufficient wealth to do no work. It was therefore very improbable that we should be able to bribe him, especially as he would realise that we were both foreigners. Moreover, if we attempted to and failed, it would at once put him on his guard. And so we decided that our only chance was this. Study the house, study his ways, and at a suitable moment visit him with the definite intention of knocking him on the head and removing him to some safe place where suasion, moral and otherwise, could be brought to bear on him. Which necessitated our finding a suitable pied à terre. An hotel or lodgings were obviously out of the question: it had to be a private house.

  “And there I came in. During the course of that little job I did for you, m’sieur, I had come across a certain Doctor Belfage. He was an unpleasant little specimen, but he was a prominent member of the Key Club. And since then I had heard that he had got into trouble and had had his name removed from the medical register. But what was important from our point of view was that he had a house near Cambridge which was most eminently suitable for our purpose. It contained a central room which was practically soundproof, which the doctor used as a laboratory, and which would form an admirable prison for this man Waldron should he prove obdurate. That settled, we crossed to England by a route not usually taken by passengers, and successfully eluded the authorities. Gr
egoroff, in particular, might have had considerable difficulty in landing.

  “The first thing to do was to get in touch with Belfage, and I travelled up to Cambridge while Gregoroff lay low in London. And there we got our first setback: the doctor had let his house and was living elsewhere. But though I didn’t say anything at the time, I wondered very much who and what this man Meredith, who had taken the house, might be. I was tolerably convinced, shall we put it, that he had never been a candidate for Holy orders. However, he gave me the doctor’s address, and I left him.

  “The doctor, I am afraid,” continued Veight, “was not overjoyed at seeing me. But on my reminding him of a certain incident in his past he decided it would be better to overcome his reluctance and give me some of his valuable time. And so we adjourned to his study.

  “‘Still a member of the Key Club,’ I remarked on seeing the badge in his coat. ‘I hear you’ve had a little trouble with the medical authorities, Doctor.’

  “‘Purely professional,’ he assured me. ‘What can I do for you, Herr Veight?’

  “‘I wanted the temporary loan of your other house, Doctor,’ I said. ‘Who is that man Meredith who has it?’

  “A glance at his face told me that I had taped Meredith correctly, and we both fenced for a while. Then I took the bull by the horns and told him what I wanted.

  “Gentlemen, I don’t think I have ever seen a man look so completely dumbfounded. He positively goggled at me.

  “‘Waldron!’ he stuttered. ‘Waldron! What do you know about Waldron?’

  “‘Evidently just what you do,’ I said. ‘I want the secret of that gas, and I’m going to have the secret of that gas. Do we work together or do we not? Waldron has got to be made to speak. Are you going to help me, or do I work on my own?’

  “‘What do you propose to do?’ he asked at length.