by Sapper
“Why?” said Morgenstein.
Veight smiled grimly.
“Because, gentlemen, from my knowledge of human nature, Drummond is a man I would prefer not to talk to if he has the full use of his limbs and a gun in his pocket. To a lesser degree the same applies to the other three.”
“Did the gas work?” asked Kalinsky.
“Marvellously; marvellously. It is all Waldron claims for it. But – there is no more. That is the point.”
“My dear Veight,” remarked Kalinsky curtly, “that is not our affair. Why do you worry us with these details?”
“Because, m’sieur,” said Veight quietly, “I take it that the plans of the Graham Caldwell aeroplane will be more valuable to you if England is not in a position to have them redrawn.”
“Well?” snapped Kalinsky.
“While we still had the gas it would have been possible to ensure that result, and make it appear an accident. Now that is out of the question. It can only be murder plain and unadorned.”
Kalinsky shrugged his shoulders.
“I am not increasing my offer,” he said.
“And I am not asking you to, m’sieur,” answered Veight. “But I am asking for a certain amount on account. I have a very wholesome regard for the English police, and I have no wish whatever to give their hangman a job. I must have money to make my plans, and ensure a safe getaway.”
“You say this message was gibberish,” said Kalinsky. “What do you mean by that? Why should anyone take the trouble to send a meaningless message?”
“It may have been a code, m’sieur. At any rate we could make nothing of it.”
“Perhaps not. But what about this man Drummond? He may have solved the code.”
Veight smiled grimly.
“It doesn’t matter much if he has. He and his friends have been prisoners for three days in the room I told you of. The house is shut up and empty; the room is soundproof. I fear they may be getting a little hungry, but that can’t be helped.”
“And where is this secret-service man you wounded?”
“At Horsebridge. He is unconscious, and so can be safely left in one of the ordinary bedrooms. I can assure you, gentlemen,” continued Veight, “that everything is exactly as it was before this regrettable contretemps occurred, save that we no longer have the gas to help us. It is therefore for you to decide. Do you wish there to be no chance of the plans being duplicated?”
At a sign from Kalinsky, Morgenstein rose, and the two financiers withdrew to the window, where they conferred in low tones. And Veight watched them anxiously, though his face was expressionless. What were they going to say?
He had told them the exact position of affairs quite truthfully. But he knew – none better – that men of their type did not advance money on mere promises. And yet it was essential that he should have some, if he and Gregoroff were going to escape from the country.
He lit a cigarette to soothe himself: the last three days had been trying ones. Present always had been the fear that Drummond and his friends had found out about Horsebridge, and had handed the information on before they were made prisoners. Then as the time passed and the police still left them alone, that fear had gradually died. But the atmosphere remained.
Doctor Belfage had completely lost his nerve: the Drummond episode had finished him. Only a ceaseless application to the bottle had kept him going, and even then it had been unsafe to leave him alone for fear that he might give everything away in a sudden access of terror. And Cortez had been a trouble. And Meredith. In fact the whole gang gathered together at Horsebridge had been suffering from suspicionitis. Nobody trusted anybody else; the only point on which they all combined was in continuing to fool Hoskins. After that the trouble started.
Meredith, in particular, had been showing his teeth. From the first he had resented the appearance of two foreigners, though until the affaire Drummond he had not shown it openly. But since then he had taken no pains to conceal his belief that Gregoroff and Veight himself were playing a double game. Which, in view of the fact that it was perfectly true, had not helped matters.
The girl, too, Doris Venables, had proved a complication. Even now he did not know where she came in; it had been necessary to keep her permanently under the influence of drugs in her room in Horsebridge to prevent any chance of her screaming. And it had all increased the nervous tension. Only Hoskins himself seemed impervious to it: he was too occupied torturing Waldron to bother about anything else.
He came out of his reverie; Kalinsky was speaking.
“I will tell you what we have decided, Veight. You will appreciate that we have no means whatever of testing what you have told us. We have to rely entirely on your word. At the same time, neither Herr Morgenstein nor I think it likely that you would be so very foolish as to waste our time with a tissue of falsehoods. So we will assume that everything is as you have said.”
Veight bowed; this sounded a promising beginning.
“That being the case,” continued Kalinsky, “the whole problem boils down to whether or not you can deliver the goods, and further if the goods, when delivered, are what you claim for them. Will five thousand pounds be enough for your immediate needs?”
“Ample, m’sieur,” said Veight.
“Good; you shall have it. And that we will regard as over and above the rest of the money, and not as a payment on account.”
“You are generous, gentlemen. I thank you.”
“On receipt by us of the tracings of the aeroplane and the formula of the gas you will receive ten thousand pounds out of the fifty we have agreed on. When we have satisfied ourselves that they are of real value you will receive a further fifteen, making twenty-five thousand in all. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly, m’sieur,” said Veight slowly.
“The remaining twenty-five thousand, Veight,” continued Kalinsky, “will not be handed over until we have indisputable proof that we and we alone hold those two secrets. There may be duplicate plans of the aeroplane already in existence; the formula of the gas may be known to someone else. If so, the removal of the people concerned will not avail much – but that is your affair. If, on the contrary, no duplicates already exist, then the removal of the people concerned will solve the question. That again is your affair. So my offer can be summed up in short. Five thousand for current expenses; ten for the delivery of the goods; fifteen when the goods are proved satisfactory, and a final twenty-five when it is proved we have a monopoly. Do you agree?”
“There is one point that occurs to me, m’sieur. Supposing we have a partial success. Supposing, for instance, the plans of the aeroplane become your monopoly, but the formula of the gas is known elsewhere. What then?”
“You would receive half. In the case you have mentioned, instead of receiving the final twenty-five thousand you would receive twelve and a half.”
Veight rose to his feet.
“Gentlemen, I accept. In a case of this sort we have to trust one another. You are trusting me to the extent of fifteen thousand pounds; I am trusting you for the remaining forty, or whatever may be due. You will be here, m’sieur, for some days?”
“In all probability. If not, you know the permanent address in Paris that always finds me.”
“Then I will bid you goodnight, gentlemen. You will hear from me in the course of four days at the outside.”
With a bow he left the room and walked along the corridor towards the lift. Taking everything into account, he felt well satisfied with his evening’s work, and his brain was already busy as to the best means of still further lining his own pocket. He shrewdly guessed that the two men he had just left were planning war at an early date, and inside information of that sort could be profitably used.
For a few moments he stood outside the swing doors watching young London arrive to revel. Mere girls and boys – happy and carefree, with healthy appetites and tireless legs. What would they be thinking in a few months’ time?
“Ein wunderschöner Ab
end, Herr Veight,” came a voice from behind him.
He swung round as if he had been shot. Who had spoken to him about the evening? But all he saw was a superb being in a gorgeous uniform, surrounded by bevies of lovely girls and their attendant swains.
“A taxi, sir?” said the superb being politely.
“No,” snarled Veight. And then, obeying a sudden impulse, he added: “Did you hear anyone speak to me in German?”
The superb being raised his eyebrows.
“German, sir? Really. Most peculiar, sir.”
With another snarl Emil Veight turned on his heel and strode into the Strand. For though the words were German, the accent had been English.
Chapter 11
He hailed a taxi and gave the name of his hotel. But, try as he would, he could not get the incident out of his head. Emil Veight was the last person in the world to court publicity, and at the moment he was particularly anxious to blush unseen. But the fact remained that someone had recognised him as he left the Ritz-Carlton. Whom could it have been?
The police he dismissed as unlikely: no one in the group had looked in the slightest degree like a plain-clothes man. A secret service agent was a more probable solution: he was pretty well known amongst that fraternity. And, if so, it would require no great astuteness on the speaker’s part to connect his visit with Kalinsky.
He frowned; the whole thing was annoying, coming as it had on top of his very successful interview with the two financiers. He felt justifiably aggrieved about it. And then an idea struck him, and he peered cautiously through the little window at the back of the taxi.
His hotel was a quiet one north of the Park, and the street behind him was deserted. It was an ideal spot from which to see if he was being followed, and he signalled to his driver to stop. But though he waited a full minute no one came in sight, and at length he told the man to drive on. Whoever it was who had spoken to him was evidently no longer interested. And he began to wonder if he had not unduly exaggerated the significance of the incident.
A fast open car was drawn up outside the hotel, and Veight glanced at it in some surprise. From what he had seen of his fellow-guests a hearse would have seemed a more suitable vehicle, but the mystery was solved as he entered the lounge. Seated in an armchair was the gigantic figure of Paul Gregoroff. And it was obvious at once that the Russian had something important to say.
“Have you got a sitting-room,” he asked, “where we shan’t be disturbed?”
“It’s perfectly safe here,” answered Veight. “No one sits up in this place after ten. What’s brought you up to London?”
“Have you seen the evening papers?” cried Gregoroff.
“I have not.”
“Then read that.”
The Russian pointed to a paragraph and Veight ran his eyes down it. Then with a whistle of surprise he read it more closely.
COUNTRY HOUSE GUTTED BY FIRE
SCARCITY OF WATER HINDERS FIREMEN
From our Special Correspondent. Cambridge.
Yet another country house must be added to the list of those that have recently been destroyed by fire. Hartley Court, a largish residence standing in its own grounds, about three miles from Cambridge, was completely gutted in the early hours of this morning. Two fire brigades which were soon on the spot found their efforts hindered by the lack of water due to the recent drought.
The reason of the outbreak is obscure, as the house had been empty for some days. And this fact also permitted the flames to get such a hold before they were seen from a cottage on the other side of the road that, even had the water supply been adequate, but little could have been done. There seems no doubt that defective electric wiring, resulting in a short circuit, must have been the cause of the trouble.
Some excitement was occasioned by the discovery of human bones in the ruins. But it transpired that the owner, Doctor Belfage, had some complete skeletons in his laboratory which he used for lecturing purposes.
Veight put the paper down on the table and lit a cigarette.
“How does this affect us?” he remarked thoughtfully.
“Up to date it hasn’t,” said Gregoroff; “but that’s not saying that it won’t. Everything depends on how long the yarn about the skeletons holds good.”
“Belfage put that up, did he?”
“On my instigation. The instant I heard about the fire I realised this complication would occur, and it is quite natural for a doctor to have some in his house.”
“Why shouldn’t it continue to hold good?”
“However fierce the fire, and I gather it was an absolute inferno, there are bound to be some traces left besides the actual skeletons. At least I should imagine so.”
“Trapped as they were in that room, it seems possible to me that the process would be pretty thorough. However, that is beside the point. Let us assume that you are right. What then?”
“To start with, Meredith will undoubtedly split on us if he finds himself in any trouble. Up to date he has kept out of the way, and Belfage has done the talking. But once the insurance people come on the scene Meredith will have to appear.”
“Even if he does, what is he going to say? Unless he is completely insane he must stick to our original story and profess entire ignorance of anybody having been left in the house. Burglars who inadvertently shut themselves into that room would be a plausible theory.”
“Supposing something is found which identifies the bodies, such as a cigarette case?”
“Once again – entire ignorance. The house was shut up after the meeting of the Key Club – the tradesmen can confirm that – and he has absolutely no idea what has happened since. And there’s one thing you can be sure of. Any story they may have written down on paper will have been destroyed.”
“There’s something in what you say,” said Gregoroff slowly. “At the same time, I wish it had happened after we were clear away. If Meredith can queer our pitch he will.”
“On that point I certainly agree with you,” said Veight. “He and that damned little quitter of a doctor have got to be watched. To say nothing of Cortez. And it’s on that very matter that you and I have got to come to a decision. I’ve seen Kalinsky; Morgenstein was with him.”
“Satisfactory?”
“Very. Five thousand for current expenses; fifty when they handle the goods, provided–”
“Provided what?” said Gregoroff softly as the eyes of the two men met.
“There is no chance of anyone else handling them.”
“Just as we thought,” remarked Gregoroff. “Damn Drummond and his friends! That gas would have been invaluable.”
“There’s no good worrying about that now,” said Veight. “What we have got to decide on is a plan of campaign, and it’s not going to be too easy.”
He pulled up a chair closer to Gregoroff and lowered his voice, though the lounge was quite deserted.
“Let us first of all eliminate the impossible. What I would have liked to have done would have been for you and me to have gone on our own to Scotland after the aeroplane plans. But there is no object in discussing that. If we attempted it Meredith would communicate anonymously with the police. And I know Scotland – particularly the Highlands. I did some work there in 1914. Those cursed Scotchmen can spot a foreigner a mile off, and they don’t like us. It is equally impossible for us to let them go on their own. They would either bungle the whole thing and put the inventor on his guard, or else they would disappear with the plans. So we’ve got to go together. Do you agree?”
“I do,” said Gregoroff.
“Let us go a bit farther. Meredith is only after the tracings; we, on the other hand, want rather more than that. And the point we have to decide is the best method of getting rid of Graham Caldwell and his assistants without being suspected ourselves.”
“Meredith and the doctor may have to go too,” put in Gregoroff.
“They may, and nothing would please me more than if they did. But we’ve got to think of ourselves, my fri
end. You can’t get away with things in this country as easily as on the Continent. And what I am wondering is this: Would it be possible to dispose of Graham Caldwell and his man in such a way that Meredith and the rest of his precious brood get run for murder?”
The Russian stared at him.
“That’s a grand idea if it can be worked,” he said at length. “But can it?”
“I believe it can,” answered Veight. “Always provided one thing – that we get the two of them to Horsebridge.”
“I don’t quite follow you,” said Gregoroff.
“While we had the gas, as I explained to Kalinsky, their death up in Scotland could be attributed to accident. As you know, our plan was based on that. Now it can’t be; at least it wouldn’t be safe to rely on it. Now we are agreed that they have to be killed, and we are agreed that it is necessary for us to go there ourselves. Now you, my dear Gregoroff, are not exactly an inconspicuous member of the society, and I have already mentioned that I know something about the inhabitants of the district. And since it would be out of the question for us to avoid being seen, the result is obvious. With one accord they would connect you, and through you, me, with any murder, however skilfully it was done. The very loneliness of the place doubles the difficulties. Within five minutes of the thing being discovered every policeman in Scotland would be on the lookout for us. Which would prove singularly awkward when the plans of the machine were found in our possession.”
“Very true,” admitted Gregoroff.
“I have therefore come to the definite conclusion that by far our best chance of success – I go further, our only chance of success – lies in getting these two men to Horsebridge.”