Buldog Drummond At Bay

by Sapper

  “An early flyer,” said Gregoroff uneasily. “And he’s seen us.”

  “What does that matter?” cried Veight irritably. “Your nerves seem pretty rocky this morning, Gregoroff. There’s nothing unusual, is there, about a caravan on a road? And it is ten to one he’ll never give it a second thought, even when the bodies are found. Get inside; the sooner we’re back at Horsebridge the better.”

  Chapter 14

  During the long drive south Veight reviewed the situation from every angle, for, though he had denied it to Gregoroff, he realised that the whole thing was pretty thin. True it was the best that could have been done under the circumstances, but he saw only too clearly the dangers of the position if the bodies were found before he was out of the country.

  Meredith was known to the police, and through him the line would lead direct to Belfage. And with the ex-doctor in his present condition of nerves that might mean anything. He would certainly blurt out that Veight had been up to Scotland with the caravan, and that would mean a searching interrogation by the police.

  Why had Meredith gone into the wood with a jack in his hand? Why, if he and Cortez had quarrelled, had they not done so by the roadside? What had they quarrelled about? And finally, what had been the object of the whole journey? Why go up to the Highlands and return the next day?

  To the first three questions the answer was simple: since the tragedy had taken place after the car had gone, he could plead complete ignorance. Why had the car gone on, leaving two of its occupants stranded by the roadside? That was a bit of a poser. Because he, the driver, was the only one in the car. The others had all been in the caravan, and he had driven off believing they were inside again. When later he found they were not, he had gone too far to turn back, and assumed they would come on by train. That held water, and Gregoroff would come in there. He had thought they were in the car, and so he had said nothing.

  So far, so good; it was to the last question that, try as he would, he could not evolve a satisfactory answer. To pretend that an ex-convict, a dope peddler and two men like Gregoroff and himself had gone to Scotland in a caravan for fun or to see the view was too farcical for words. In addition to that there was MacPherson to take into account. The fact that his own part in the performance was not at all creditable might not be enough to prevent him speaking if he found out who the dead men were – which he certainly would, since their names were bound to appear in the papers. That risk, however, being outside Veight’s control, would have to be ignored. But what was he personally to say to account for the trip? And the more he thought it over, the more did he come to the conclusion that a half-truth was the only possible solution. They had heard of the Graham Caldwell aeroplane, and they had gone up to see it. Unfortunately they found the inventor had left for England; and even more unfortunately the machine had accidentally caught fire while they were there.

  Yes, reflected Veight, that was the only solution, if he was interrogated. If! The whole crux lay in that word. With any luck, as he had said to Gregoroff, the bodies would not be found for at any rate two or three days. And by that time he would be well away, even if it entailed forfeiting the secret of the gas.

  Like most men who live by their wits, Veight was an optimist, and as the day wore on his spirits rose. Possibly the Cortez episode was the best thing that could have happened. He had realised all along that fooling them at the last moment was going to prove difficult, and now all need for that had disappeared. Belfage and old Hoskins would be child’s play, but Meredith had had a nasty suspicious mind. And so, by the time he turned the car in over the drawbridge, Emil Veight’s equanimity was fully restored. His story was cut and dried; Gregoroff was word perfect, and he felt that the first instalment of Kalinsky’s money was already as good as in his pocket.

  There was no one in the hall when he and Gregoroff carried the airman and his mechanic in, and the house seemed very silent. But as they laid them down on the floor Hoskins appeared from his study brandishing a paper.

  “It is you, is it?” he said. “I thought it might be Belfage. The formula, my friends: the formula of that devil Waldron’s gas.”

  “Excellent,” cried Veight. “And here are Graham Caldwell and his mechanic, to say nothing of the plans of the machine.”

  “A great day, gentlemen: a triumph for the club. But tell me – where are Meredith and Cortez?”

  Veight laughed.

  “A most absurd thing has happened, Mr Hoskins. We all got out this morning just after it was light, and when we drove off again we left them behind by mistake. I thought they were in the caravan with Gregoroff, and he thought they were in the car with me. They will doubtless come along by train.”

  “Dear me!” said Hoskins, “how very unfortunate. But what have you been doing to your face, Mr Gregoroff?”

  “I fell down on the moor up there and hit it on a rock,” answered the Russian.

  “Quite a chapter of accidents,” cried the old man. “I wish the doctor would return. I want him to see this formula, so as to be quite sure there is no mistake. Then by tonight’s post, my dear friends, it shall go to every government.”

  “Just so,” said Veight quietly, and his eyes met Gregoroff’s. “Just so, Mr Hoskins. Where is the doctor?”

  “He went over to his own house after lunch. Something to do with the insurance people and Hartley Court. But he should be back at any moment now.”

  “Might I see the formula?” asked Veight casually.

  “Of course. Here it is. Waldron only recovered sufficiently a short time ago to write it. And even then I had to threaten him with more of the drug. Do you know anything of chemistry?”

  “I fear not,” said Veight, glancing at the formula he held in his hand. “Have you taken any copies of it yet, Mr Hoskins?”

  “No; I was waiting for the doctor to make certain that devil has not deceived me.”

  “He is still below in the dungeon?”

  “Yes. And he remains there till the letters are dispatched.”

  “And Captain Lovelace and Miss Venables?”

  “Upstairs in their rooms.”

  Once again Veight glanced at Gregoroff, who gave the faintest of nods. And the next moment they closed in on the old man, who gave one frightened little squeal like a snared rabbit and then subsided limply, and his eyes roved from one to the other in terrified bewilderment as they forced him into a chair.

  “What are you doing to me?” he wailed.

  “Now listen, Mr Hoskins,” said Veight quietly. “And pay very close attention to what I am going to say. We shall not do you any harm provided you do not give us any trouble. But knowing your strange outlook on life we shall have to take certain precautions. Gregoroff and I want this formula, which you have been kind enough to give us, and so we propose to keep it.”

  “But aren’t you going to send it to all the governments?” cried Hoskins incredulously.

  Veight roared with laughter.

  “We are not, my dear sir. Ah! would you, you old devil?”

  For with a furious shout of rage Hoskins had sprung out of the chair and had hurled himself at the German. His eyes blazed with fanatical fury; his hands clawed at Veight’s pocket, and his frenzied shrieks of “Traitor!” rang through the house. And it was not until Gregoroff joined in, and hit the old man on the point of the jaw, that he finally sank back in the chair mouthing incoherently.

  “You mustn’t do that sort of thing, Mr Hoskins,” said Veight quietly, “or you may get hurt.”

  “You devil! You devil!” muttered the other. “Are you going to sell that formula to one of the Powers?”

  “Such, roughly, is our intention, my dear sir,” said Veight with an amused smile. “You don’t really imagine, do you, that we should have wasted our time in this depressing hole for nothing?

  “Never, while I live,” cried the old man. “I will get the police… I will tell them…”

  “I rather feared that you might try something of that description,” said Veigh
t calmly. “But I confess I did not imagine you would be quite so uncontrolled. So we shall have to take steps accordingly. You’re a stupid old gentleman, you know; very stupid. Where shall we put him, Paul?”

  “Down in the dungeon with Waldron,” said the Russian. “And we’ll have to gag him.”

  “What about the other two?”

  “Put ’em down there too. I want to discuss that part of the show with you.”

  “All right,” said Veight briefly. “I think I know what you’re going to say, but we’ll talk it over.”

  They deftly bound and gagged the old man in the chair where he sat, then they lifted him up and carried him down the stone steps to the dungeon below.

  “Someone to keep you company, Waldron,” said Veight amiably. “He tells me that you have at last seen reason.”

  The engineer officer glared at them in amazement.

  “What have you got the old swine tied up for?” he asked at length. His voice was still weak, but the cessation of the diabolical drug was already beginning to have its effect.

  “A little difference of opinion, my dear fellow,” answered Veight. “We have slightly divergent views on what to do with your formula. By the way,” he continued, taking the paper from his pocket, “I most earnestly hope for your own sake that you haven’t been trying any funny stuff. This is the correct formula?”

  “Go and try it for yourself,” said Waldron indifferently. “Are you going to set me free?”

  “All in good time,” cried Veight. “You look so attractive where you are. But I think I can promise you that in the course of a few days, at any rate, your troubles will be over.”

  “But that devil Hoskins swore he’d let me go at once,” shouted the soldier angrily.

  “Quite, quite,” said Veight. “But, as you can see for yourself, our friend and host is no longer in charge of the situation.’’

  “Where are the rest of your foul brood?”

  “Getting along nicely, thank you. And now, Waldron, I have something to say to you. I am going to have this formula of yours examined by a qualified chemist. If he tells me that it is what you say it is – well and good. You will be free to go, and you can have a grand time getting your own back on that damned old bore over there. But if I find you’ve been playing the fool, you’ll pray for marijuana once again instead of what I’ll give you.”

  Waldron yawned.

  “I wish you’d go and play elsewhere,” he said. “I’m infernally sleepy.”

  “So,” continued Veight, “I would strongly advise you, if you have been so stupid as to write this down incorrectly, to rectify it now.”

  “Do go away,” said Waldron irritably. “I’ve told you to try it for yourself. I can’t say more than that.”

  Veight turned away, and beckoning to Gregoroff, they went back to the hall.

  “We’ll have to chance it,” he remarked. “It might take days to have this thing properly tried out.”

  “Precisely,” said the Russian. “And we aren’t going to wait for days. Nor hours. We’re going to clear at once. Leave those two where they are for the time and come in here. I want a drink. But we’ve got to get this straight.”

  “You mean you want to quit without…” The German paused significantly.

  “I do,” said Gregoroff doggedly. “I know what we arranged, and I was prepared to risk it if Waldron was still sticking out. But now that you’ve got the gas and the aeroplane plans, I tell you it’s madness to stay one moment longer than is necessary.”

  “But it means dropping twenty-five thousand pounds,” cried Veight. “You’re a fool, Gregoroff.”

  “I’m a damned wise man. It’s you who were the blasted fool – killing Cortez. Look here, Veight, there’s no good our quarrelling. What’s done is done, and you know that the only reason why I regret the death of those two rats is that it’s made it dangerous for us.”

  “Dangerous,” sneered Veight. “Since when has our trade been anything but dangerous? If you think I’m going to lose twenty-five thousand pounds you’re damn well mistaken. The instant Belfage…”

  “Belfage!” shouted Gregoroff. “The drunken little sweep! We’ll probably never see him again.”

  “The instant Belfage,” continued Veight imperturbably, “has given those three adrenalin we go, and not before. There’s a machine waiting for us; we’ve got nothing to do except motor to the aerodrome and get in.”

  “And how long do you suggest we should wait for Belfage?” demanded Gregoroff.

  “You heard what Hoskins said; he’ll be back at any moment. Then we’ll make him drunk, which won’t be difficult, and voilà tout.”

  “It’s risky,” grumbled the Russian. “But I suppose we’ll have to chance it.”

  “It’s worth while chancing something for twenty-five thousand apiece,” remarked Veight calmly.

  “That’s true,” admitted Gregoroff grudgingly. “But I confess I’d feel a great deal easier in my mind if you hadn’t hit Cortez quite so hard.”

  He was staring out of the window, and his eyes narrowed suddenly.

  “Who the devil is this crossing the drawbridge?” he cried.

  Veight joined him, and gave a prolonged whistle of astonishment.

  “It’s Kalinsky himself. Now, what in the name of all that is marvellous has brought him down? You stay here; I’ll deal with him.”

  He hurried into the hall, and got to the front door just as the limousine pulled up outside.

  “This is a most unexpected pleasure, m’sieur,” he said.

  “Unexpected!” snapped the financier, who was obviously not in the best of tempers. “What do you mean by unexpected? After the urgent message you sent me I had no alternative but to come, though it was exceedingly inconvenient.”

  He entered the house and Veight closed the door in a complete daze.

  “Urgent message, m’sieur? I haven’t sent you any urgent message.”

  “Then who was that stammering fool who forced himself on me this morning in my hotel? Belfage he called himself; the doctor you told me about. Said he came from you, and that it was of vital importance I should come here this afternoon.”

  Veight gave a sigh of relief. The thing was now comprehensible, though why Belfage should have done it was beyond him. And then came a sudden stabbing doubt. How did Belfage know anything about Kalinsky?

  “Confound it, Veight, have you lost the use of your tongue?” Kalinsky’s angry voice broke in on his thoughts. “Twice have I asked you who these two men are lying about in the hall.”

  “I beg your pardon, m’sieur.” With an effort he pulled himself together. Whatever had caused Belfage’s action, it could wait. At the moment the vital thing was not to let Kalinsky even have an inkling that anything could be amiss.

  “To tell you the truth,” he continued, “I have had so little sleep during the past forty-eight hours that I hardly know what I’m doing. Those two men are Graham Caldwell and his mechanic.”

  “What’s the matter with them?”

  “Doped with morphia. We brought them down from Scotland in that caravan you saw outside.”

  “And the plans of the machine?”

  “Here in my pocket.”

  He handed them to the millionaire, who glanced at them and then threw them on the table.

  “They convey nothing to me,” he said. “You are sure those are the correct ones?”

  “Absolutely certain, m’sieur. They were in the safe in Caldwell’s office, and the man who had actually done some of the drawing himself gave them to me.”

  “Did you see the machine?”

  “It was dark when we arrived, m’sieur,” explained Veight, “and so it was impossible to inspect it closely. We burned it.”

  “Then you didn’t see it in flight?”

  “No, we did not. But the member of the Key Club whom you may remember I told you about, and who was responsible for our information in the first place, confirmed the fact that its performance is simply amazing.�
��

  The financier lit a cigarette.

  “Well, Veight,” he said more cordially, “so far you seem to have done well. I may say that I myself through a roundabout source heard only yesterday that this machine is a marvel. I also heard that, so far as my informant knew, no plans, save these, were in existence. And so I say again that I consider you one to be congratulated.”

  “Thank you, m’sieur.” Veight bowed. “Things have gone very well. Because I have here the other thing I promised you – the formula of the gas.”

  With a triumphant flourish he produced the paper from his pocket.

  “This again conveys nothing to me,” said Kalinsky. “Have you any proof that it is correct?”

  “Frankly, m’sieur – I have no proof. I am not a chemist myself. But the English officer Waldron is below in the dungeon, and he realises that if it is not correct it will be even more unpleasant for him in the future than it has been in the past. You would perhaps like to see for yourself?”

  “Later – possibly. At present I am rather more interested in the future of the two gentlemen I see upon the floor.”

  “That, m’sieur, you may safely leave in my hands,” said Veight. “And I think it would be better for you not to know any more about it. I have thought out a scheme, which I flatter myself is not lacking in ingenuity, and which is certain to result in Belfage being hanged for the murder of these two and Waldron below.”

  “And what are your immediate plans?”

  “To leave England at the first possible opportunity,” answered Veight. “After which I shall report to you in Paris for the balance due.”

  “You shall have it,” said Kalinsky.

  He took out a bulky pocket-book, and Veight’s eyes glistened.

  “You have done well, Herr Veight,” he continued. “And though for the life of me I can’t see quite what was the need for dragging me down here, I am glad I came and saw with my own eyes. Here are ten thousand in notes as we arranged, and the balance of forty will be handed to you in Paris when – er – the remaining conditions have been complied with.”