Buldog Drummond At Bay

by Sapper

  Veight took the notes and bowed.

  “Thank you, m’sieur. I can assure you they will be.”

  Now that the first instalment was actually in his pocket he was itching for Kalinsky to go. Unfortunately, however, the financier showed no signs of so doing; he was inspecting his surroundings with obvious interest.

  “Extraordinary,” he said at length. “Most interesting. By the way, where is the madman you told me about who owns this house?”

  “Keeping Waldron company in the dungeon,” answered Veight. “He became quite annoyed when he realised the formula for the gas was not going to be used as he intended.”

  “Of course; I remember. These strange people send things to everybody, don’t they? I should very much like to see the dungeon, Veight.”

  Concealing his impatience with an effort, the German led the way.

  “Be careful of the steps, m’sieur. They are rather dark.”

  “Good gracious me!” said Kalinsky, staring about him. “It is unbelievable. And is this the wicked old man who tortured the gallant young inventor?”

  Veight swore under his breath; the great man had evidently quite recovered his temper and was pleased to be facetious. Pray Heaven he would be quick about it.

  “That is the gentleman,” he answered, forcing a laugh.

  “Well, well,” said Kalinsky genially, “it takes all sorts to make a world, doesn’t it? But what a bloodthirsty old ruffian you must be!”

  He lit another cigarette and turned away.

  “Well – I think that is quite enough, Veight. I do not find the atmosphere of this apartment very much to my liking. I think I will now return to London.”

  Veight heaved a sigh of relief; then grew suddenly tense as he heard the sound of hurried footsteps in the hall above.

  “Veight!” came a hoarse shout. “Veight – where are you?”

  The German stood very still: it was Belfage’s voice.

  “I’m below in the dungeon,” he answered. “What do you want?”

  “Who is that?” cried Kalinsky quickly.

  “Doctor Belfage, m’sieur,” said Veight, as the doctor, white and sweating, clattered down the stairs, to pause for a moment as he saw Kalinsky.

  “Belfage?” snapped the millionaire. “That is not the man I saw this morning. What the devil is the meaning of all this?”

  Icy fear was clutching at Veight’s heart. He knew now that something had gone wrong, but he forced himself to speak calmly.

  “It is quite all right, m’sieur,” he said. “Some small misunderstanding.”

  Already his quick brain was working: at any rate he had ten thousand in his pocket. And then he realised Belfage was pouring out some confused jumble of words.

  “Skeletons!” roared Kalinsky, now beside himself with rage. “What in God’s name is this madman talking about?”

  “Pull yourself together, you drunken swine,” snarled Veight, shaking Belfage like a rat. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “The skeletons, Veight. The skeletons at Hartley Court. Two of them were females.”

  The German’s hands dropped to his sides.

  “Females!” he muttered foolishly. “Females! What do you mean, females?”

  And from behind him Waldron began to laugh. And the laughter grew till it swelled to a mighty chorus. From all round him, from above him were unseen people laughing – just laughing.

  “Ein wünderschoner Abend, Herr Veight.”

  “Pardon! ’Ad tripe for me supper. Comes back on one like, don’t it.”

  God above! The bleary-eyed youth at his hotel in London. And still that laughter went on rising and falling, until, as if it was a drill, it stopped abruptly. And the silence was more terrifying than the noise.

  He could hear the heavy thumping of his heart; dazedly, sickly, he realised that everything had miscarried. But how? How? Beside him Kalinsky, now thoroughly frightened, was clutching his arm convulsively; Belfage in a state of collapse had sunk down on the steps. And then came a well-remembered voice from above.

  “So we meet again, Herr Veight. Kindly come up into the hall.”

  Like a man in a dream the German obeyed Drummond’s order. All power of connected thought had temporarily left him: the sudden shattering of all his plans had numbed his brain. He realised subconsciously that the hall was full of men. He saw Standish, and Darrell, and Gregson and a dozen others he did not know; he saw Lovelace and Doris Venables standing at the foot of the stairs; he saw as a man sees the background of a picture in relation to the central figure. And that central figure was the man standing opposite him on whose face was no trace of mercy.

  Suddenly Kalinsky gave a cry, and pointed to one of the group.

  “There’s the man who came to me this morning and said he was Belfage.”

  No one answered; no one spoke, and then Veight heard a voice. It was his own.

  “How…did…you…escape?”

  He was still staring, hypnotised, at Drummond.

  “The court will now commence,” was the only answer. “Bring forward the other prisoner.”

  He pointed to Gregoroff, whose nerve had completely gone.

  “You fool!” he screamed at Veight. “I told you we should have got away at once.”

  “You’ve never had a chance, Gregoroff,” said Drummond. “For the past three days you have never been out of our sight.”

  “How…did…you…escape?”

  Once more Veight’s parched lips mouthed the sentence.

  “Sufficient for you, Veight, that we did.”

  “A truce to this play-acting,” snarled Kalinsky, who had recovered himself. “Do you know who I am, sir?”

  “I have that misfortune,” said Drummond dispassionately. “And anything that you may care to say in mitigation of your conduct will be carefully considered.”

  “Mitigation! Conduct!” shouted the millionaire. “This, sir, is an outrage.”

  “It is,” agreed Drummond pleasantly. “And a far worse one will shortly be perpetrated upon you. But before that takes place we will converse awhile, Kalinsky.”

  White with passion, the millionaire strode to the front door. It was locked and the key was not there.

  “Open this door, sir.” He was stammering with rage. “Open this door at once. I insist.”

  “Mr Kalinsky insists. What an epoch-making moment! Ten thousand pounds is the sum, I think, you have just paid Veight for the documents in your pocket.”

  Very slowly the millionaire came back: the seriousness of the situation had come home to him. This ring of silent men meant business, and Kalinsky’s soul grew sick within him. But his voice was steady when he spoke.

  “Who are you, may I ask?”

  “That is quite immaterial,” said Drummond. “Shall we say that, at the moment, I represent justice? Perhaps a little rough and ready; nevertheless justice. What are the documents for which you have just paid Veight ten thousand pounds?”

  “That is my concern,” answered Kalinsky.

  “Assuredly. Give me those notes, Veight.”

  Completely cowed, the German handed them over.

  “Ten thousand pounds!” Drummond balanced the packet in his hand. “A lot of money, Kalinsky: they must be very valuable.”

  “They are worth it to me,” said the millionaire in an offhand tone.

  And once again a chorus of laughter rose, fell and died away.

  “I am delighted to hear it,” said Drummond gravely. “True we all have different standards of value; but it is most impressive to realise yours. Have you by any chance made Mr Graham Caldwell’s acquaintance?”

  Instinctively Kalinsky looked at the two men who still sprawled unconscious on the floor.

  “No, no; the real Graham Caldwell,” continued Drummond. “Those two were wished on Veight in Scotland. They belong, I believe, to the local branch of the Key Club. Here he is.”

  A freckle-faced young man with a cheerful grin stepped forward.

  “What
are the plans Mr Kalinsky has got?” asked Drummond.

  “Bits of a Puss Moth and an old Bristol fighter,” said Caldwell. “But even then there’s a lot missing. A wheelbarrow would fly better.”

  “I wonder,” remarked Drummond pensively, “if any government really wants a flying wheelbarrow. You can but try, Kalinsky. And you’ve always got the gas, haven’t you? I hope that’s all right for him, Waldron.”

  “Grand,” said the sapper. “I wrote it down in a hurry, but the final process should undoubtedly produce a form of cheese mould.”

  “Think of it, Kalinsky,” cried Drummond enthusiastically. “A wheelbarrow with wings, and a spot of gorgonzola. They’ll put up a statue to you.”

  Kalinsky turned on Veight in a cold fury.

  “So you’ve double-crossed me, you rat. Hand me back that money.”

  “You forget he hasn’t got it,” said Drummond, still balancing the notes in his hand. “And it is really we who have done the crossing – not Veight. So we shall be pleased to keep these for our trouble.”

  “I see,” said Kalinsky with a sneer. “Plain theft.”

  “Oh, no! A little present from Veight. And so that there shall be no misunderstanding, Kalinsky, an anonymous present of ten thousand pounds will be made tomorrow to the disabled soldiers and sailors fund.”

  His eyes bored into the millionaire.

  “You may, if you like, make trouble. I don’t somehow think you will. If your part in this affair comes out, your name will stink in the nostrils of the world. And there is a certain poetic justice, isn’t there, in this money going to men who fought, in view of what it was really intended for? War: another war. More millions in your pocket; more millions mutilated or in their graves.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” muttered Kalinsky.

  “Tidying up, sare,” quoted Drummond. “Having found out Veight was coming to see you, I came first. And as Henri is an old friend of mine, I had no difficulty in persuading him to let me act as floor waiter. He thought I was doing it for a bet.”

  “Confound your impertinence,” snarled Kalinsky. “My part in the whole affair was perfectly legitimate. I promised this damned fool Veight money for certain things. What I proposed to do with them is entirely my own affair. He has failed to get them, and that is the end of the matter so far as I am concerned.”

  “That, I fear, is where we must agree to differ,” said Drummond gravely. “I heard most of your conversation with Sir James Portrush; I heard your delightful bargain with Veight. And neither I nor my friends think you at all funny. In fact we think you a profound bore, Kalinsky, a very tedious person. Which must be rectified. If you can’t make people laugh by fair means, you shall make them laugh by foul. Bring that rope, Peter.”

  “What are you going to do with me?” cried the now terrified millionaire.

  “You’ll see,” said Drummond as Darrell and Standish passed the rope under Kalinsky’s arms. “And I would advise you to keep your mouth shut for the next few minutes. In with him, boys.”

  Gibbering with fright, Kalinsky disappeared through the window, and a loud splash proclaimed his destination. Three times was he hauled up; three times was he dropped back. Then he reappeared, and again the chorus of laughter was heard.

  Dripping wet, with duckweed in his hair, the millionaire stood there emitting a powerful odour of stagnant slime, and almost crying with rage and mortification.

  “Very funny; very funny indeed,” cried Drummond approvingly. “I told you you could make people laugh if you tried. But it would be selfish on our part to keep you all to ourselves. Goodbye, Kalinsky; they’ll be tickled to death at the Ritz-Carlton. Run him out, Peter; the swine is an outrage and an offence against God and man. Here’s the key.”

  The front door closed behind him, and silence settled on the room, which was broken at length by Drummond.

  “And that brings us to the lesser fry,” he said quietly. “Veight; Gregoroff; even the egregious Doctor Belfage I see. But where are Meredith and Cortez? The party does not seem to be complete. And you were all so matey in Scotland, weren’t you?”

  “I believe you’re the devil himself,” muttered the German sullenly. “Were you up there too?”

  “Of course. As I told your Russian friend, you haven’t been out of my sight. By the way, Gregoroff, have you met any more elementals with croquet mallets?”

  “It was you, was it?”

  “It was. A ripe and fruity blow, I flatter myself. But, I think, if anything, it has improved your appearance.”

  “How the devil did you get out of that room?” said Gregoroff with a scowl.

  “I don’t think you have actually met Mr Seymour, have you? You did your best to shoot him on his motor bicycle, but that hardly constitutes a formal introduction. A rising journalist, Gregoroff, and a lad of sunny disposition as you can see. Moreover, it is entirely due to him that you are in your present unsatisfactory position.”

  The Russian’s scowl deepened as he looked at the young reporter.

  “With becoming modesty he maintains that it was a sheer fluke. I, on the other hand, consider it was an extremely quick piece of work for which he deserves the greatest credit. I had arranged to meet him the day after you so kindly locked us up, and somewhat naturally I failed to keep my appointment. He waited and waited, and under the inspiration of a ginger ale he fell into conversation with that lovely girl who dispenses gin in the bar. They talked of this and that, and after a while she mentioned the jolly little party overnight when we had met Doctor Belfage. She also mentioned Hartley Court. So Seymour decided it could do no harm to call there. I trust I interest you.”

  “Go on,” muttered Gregoroff.

  “Naturally he found the house empty. But the sight of an unlatched window downstairs was too much for him and he entered. It was all very still and silent, but as he stood on the kitchen stairs wondering whether to explore there came from close by his head a little click. He looked up: it was the electric-light meter, and subconsciously he noted the reading. Then he went all over the house and found nothing. It took some time, and at last he decided to go. And then occurred, Gregoroff, one of those little things which sometimes alter the fate of nations. As he passed the meter he happened to glance at it again: the reading was different. Somewhere in the house current was being consumed. Where?”

  “You cursed fool, Gregoroff!” cried Veight. “It was you who insisted on leaving the light on.”

  “Come, come,” said Drummond. “Mutual, I think. But with unerring accuracy, Veight, you have spotted what gave you away. To make certain, Seymour continued to watch the meter until it changed again; then, being a determined young man, he once more went over the house. And this time, by taking a few rough measurements, he realised there was an inner room, the existence of which he had not suspected before. The rest was easy. He tapped: he heard a faint answer. And four hours later a nice gentleman with a blowpipe affair had cut through the door. That is how we got out, Gregoroff, and had you and Veight met us then we should assuredly have killed you both. We were not amused.”

  Drummond lit a cigarette.

  “But saner counsels prevailed. Mr Standish had already solved the real message which was flung through my window by Captain Lovelace. But you haven’t seen that one, have you? How stupid of me. There have been so many flying round, haven’t there? It was in code too – ‘Mary Jane. Urgent. G G Pont.’”

  Sullenly the two foreigners stared at him.

  “In code,” Drummond continued quietly, “to minimise the chance, if you found it, of your moving poor Waldron elsewhere. Mary Jane, with Cortez introducing the Mexican atmosphere, gave us Marijuana: G G – Horse: Pont – bridge, in French. Not a very clever code, as I am sure Captain Lovelace would be the first to admit, but men who are half murdered, Veight, are not very clever.”

  “He shouldn’t have tried to escape,” muttered the German.

  “Shouldn’t have tried to escape, you rat!” roared Drummon
d. “A British officer from a damned foreign spy! Don’t scowl at me, blast you, or I’ll give you a taste of Gregoroff’s medicine. To resume, however,” he continued. “Fearing you might return to Hartley Court and find the birds had flown, we decided to burn the house down. It was a pity that two of the skeletons we obtained with great difficulty were those of the fair sex, but they served their purpose.”

  “What purpose?” said Veight angrily. “Why didn’t you strike then instead of waiting?”

  “For two good reasons,” answered Drummond. “First and foremost in order to touch that blackguard Kalinsky for ten thousand pounds. Secondly – but I presume you have never read the immortal ‘Stalky’ – we wanted to jape with you. And you can’t imagine the amount of fun you’ve given us.”

  “And what do you propose to do with us now?” asked the German. “Put us in the lake too?”

  “No, Veight: you have a more important role to play which you will discover in due course. Doctor Belfage as well, and the incredible old gentleman downstairs. I would have liked Meredith and Cortez… By the way, have you any idea where they are?”

  “I have not, and for a very good reason,” said Veight quietly. With the realisation that the situation was desperate, his self-control had come back. “Since you appear to know everything, it is quite refreshing to find that you do not. Just after it was light this morning we all got out to stretch our legs, and when we started off again I thought they were in the caravan, and Gregoroff thought they were in the car. So between us we left them behind.”

  “What an annoying contretemps!” cried Drummond. “If only I’d known that, it would have quite allayed my childish fears. But when I saw you and Gregoroff emerging from that wood this morning–”

  “You saw us!” Veight almost screamed.

  “I was in the scarlet monoplane,” explained Drummond patiently. “The Graham Caldwell machine. You didn’t burn it, you know: when we gathered your intentions an ancient glider was put inside the shed. To resume, however. When I saw you coming out of the wood, and there was no sign of the other two, I was filled with unworthy suspicions. So we landed a little later, and I communicated those suspicions to the police.”