Buldog Drummond At Bay

by Sapper

  Veight swallowed twice, and his knuckles gleamed white on the back of the chair he was gripping.

  “What a waste of time!” He forced himself to speak calmly. “They should be here at any moment now.”

  “I fear not,” said Drummond sadly. “Veight, you must prepare yourself for a shock. The dead bodies of your poor friends were found in the wood.”

  The German had again recovered his self-control. His start of amazement was admirable.

  “Gott in Himmel!” he cried. “Dead! But how?”

  “Clutched in Meredith’s hand was a motor jack; in that of Cortez a revolver. Meredith was shot through the heart; Cortez had his skull broken.”

  “They were quarrelling when we all got out of the car, Gregoroff, if you remember,” said Veight thoughtfully.

  “That is so,” assented the Russian.

  “And did you leave them there quarrelling: one armed with a jack and the other with a gun?” asked Drummond politely.

  “I have already told you,” said Veight, “that it was quite by accident they were left behind at all.”

  “Of course! Of course! How stupid of me. What were they quarrelling about, I wonder? The plans of the wheelbarrow; or can it have been the flying cheese? Or perhaps,” he added hopefully, “it was just naughty temper at being left to walk. Anyway, that is your next role – the two principal witnesses at the inquest on Meredith and Cortez.”

  The German’s jaw tightened but he said nothing.

  “Playtime is over,” continued Drummond. “Serious business begins. And when through the medium of a nice double murder the public are put wise to your recent activities, even they may begin to realise that this country is living in a fool’s paradise over armaments.”

  The telephone bell started to ring, and he picked up the receiver. And as he listened a look of amazement appeared on his face. At length the metallic voice ceased, and Drummond very slowly replaced the instrument.

  “The police, Veight,” he said gravely. “They want to know if you and Gregoroff are here. As you heard, I told them you were. They are coming to ask you some questions.”

  The German moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.

  “You will be interested to hear that they have found Cortez’s fingerprints on his revolver,” continued Drummond.

  “Naturally,” said Veight. “You told me he shot Meredith, and that the revolver was found in his hand.”

  “Yes: lying very loosely. And the police want to know how it got there.”

  “I don’t understand,” stammered Veight, after a pause. “If he shot Meredith…”

  “Precisely,” remarked Drummond. “If! You see, the revolver was in his right hand: the fingerprints are those of his left.”

  For a space in which a man may count five there was silence, while the German, his face ashen, swayed on his feet. Then with a roar like a beast Gregoroff hurled himself on him.

  “Damn you!” he shouted. “What did you want to kill him for?”

  “So,” said Drummond when they were finally separated, “it would seem that my unworthy suspicions were justified after all. But I think your message to the British public will be even more valuable when it comes from the dock and not from the witness-box.”

  Chapter 15

  “The Chief wants to see you, Hugh,” said Gregson. “You, too, Ronald, and Seymour as well. Old Portrush is with him clucking like an agitated hen.”

  Drummond grinned faintly, and followed the speaker along the passage to a large airy room overlooking Whitehall. Behind a big desk sat a grey-haired man with a pair of keen, penetrating eyes, while beside him Sir James Portrush clutched the inevitable attaché case.

  “So you are the sinners who have been corrupting my young gentlemen,” said Colonel Talbot genially. “The tale I have listened to from Gregson is just about the most completely immoral recital of utter illegality I have ever heard. In fact at a rough guess I should think you have all laid yourselves open to at least ten years’ penal servitude.”

  “At least,” agreed Drummond happily. “But we’ve had a grand time, Colonel.”

  “What staggers me,” cried Sir James, “are these disclosures about Kalinsky. I can scarcely credit them. Why, only a few nights ago, I was having a long conversation with him on the European situation at the Ritz-Carlton.”

  “I heard it all,” said Drummond, lighting a cigarette.

  “You heard it?” spluttered Sir James. “But we were alone.”

  “I heard it through the keyhole,” said Drummond calmly, and Colonel Talbot hurriedly bent down to pick up a paper. “I was the waiter.”

  “Really, Captain Drummond,” cried the minister angrily, “that is quite inexcusable.”

  “If I hadn’t,” said Drummond, “Kalinsky would now have the Graham Caldwell plans. And Morgenstein. He was in it too.”

  “Nevertheless unpardonable,” continued Sir James. “To listen to a private conversation! It’s…it’s not done.”

  “It was that night,” laughed Drummond. “‘Dictators, knaves, or fools’ – do you remember?”

  Sir James flushed scarlet.

  “This is intolerable,” he snapped.

  “Come, come, Sir James, be reasonable. You must judge every case on its own merits. And in this instance I consider I was justified. I knew Veight was coming to see Kalinsky, which by itself was enough to prove he was a wrong ’un. But if I may be permitted to say so – wrong ’un or not, the advice he gave you was the goods.”

  “I am infinitely obliged to you for your opinion,” remarked Sir James sarcastically.

  “And,” continued Drummond imperturbably, “it will not be through any fault of mine if that advice is not broadcast to the country when Veight and Gregoroff come up for trial. They’ll hang ’em as high as Haman – both of ’em, and that always interests the public.”

  “Do you mean to tell me” – Sir James appeared to be on the verge of a seizure of sorts – “do you mean to tell me that you have the audacity – the damned audacity – to pass on a private conversation you heard through a keyhole?”

  “Most certainly,” answered Drummond. “I won’t say it was you, but I’m undoubtedly going to tell the public Kalinsky’s remarks that night. Wait, Sir James!”

  He held up his hand, and after an abortive splutter the minister subsided.

  “You did not go through the last war as – er – as a combatant. We did, and we don’t want another, any more than some of the pacifist young gentlemen today, who have never heard a shot fired in anger. We know the horrors of it first-hand; we are all out to prevent it again if we can. But we maintain that the present policy of cutting down our fighting forces to the extent they have been reduced, is the most certain way of precipitating it. Do you realise that if this young feller here had not got us out of that house, war would have come? I ask you – do you realise that? But for the tick of an electric-light meter war would have come. As you know, they intended to kill Waldron and Graham Caldwell, so that those two secrets would have been Kalinsky’s sole property. Do you suppose he was going to use ’em for shaving-paper?”

  “Really, Captain Drummond, I am not accustomed to being hectored in this way.” Sir James had at last found his voice. “The Government’s policy on such matters is – er – a matter for the Government alone.”

  “Well, at any rate, you know Kalinsky’s opinion of that policy. And,” Drummond added pleasantly, “though he may be a knave, Sir James, he most certainly is not a fool.”

  With a snort like an angry bull, Sir James snatched up his hat and rose to his feet.

  “You, it seems to me, Captain Drummond, combine both qualities. Good morning, Colonel Talbot; I am already late for a Cabinet meeting.”

  “Totes on greyhound tracks still worrying the old grey matter?” asked Drummond anxiously. “But they tell me Flying Fish for the third race at the White City tonight is a cinch. Shall I put on a quid for you?”

  “I am not interested in dog-racing, thank
you.”

  “Great fun, you know. And you could always earn a spot of honest dough as a tick-tack man. All you’ve got to do is to wave your arms and legs about and make faces. Just like a Cabinet meeting.”

  The door shut with a crash, and then Drummond threw up his hands in despair.

  “How long, O Lord, how long?” he cried. “It isn’t that his opinion differs from mine, but it is that ghastly air of smug self-complacency that gets my goat. What’s your opinion, Colonel?”

  But that worthy officer was beyond speech. Tears were pouring down his face; his shoulders heaved convulsively.

  “Portrush as a tick-tack man!” he gasped at length. “You’re a thoroughly reprehensible scoundrel, Drummond,” he continued in a shaking voice, “and your proper fate is to be hanged between Veight and Gregoroff. But at any rate you’ve made me laugh. Now tell me, how many crimes have you committed in the course of the last few days?”

  “How many, Ronald?” asked Drummond cheerfully.

  “The only one, Chief, is burning down the house,” said Standish. “And a few odd trifles against some lower excrescences of the Key Club, which they brought on themselves. But with regard to Hartley Court, I do not think there will be any trouble. Hugh and I will settle matters with Doctor Belfage.”

  “All right. But I don’t want to hear anything about it,” laughed the Colonel. “You’re a bunch of miscreants, and the whole thing is hopelessly irregular. Get out. And I shall be delighted if you’ll all dine with me tonight. Cabbageface knows the house, and the port is passing fair. Incidentally Ginger and that delightful girl are coming. We must drink their health.”

  “Bye-bye, Hugh, for the moment,” said Standish, as they reached the street. “I’m going round to the insurance wallahs now. See you again this evening.”

  The traffic roared past in a ceaseless stream, and for a space Seymour stood staring at it beside a man grown suddenly silent.

  “I can still hardly believe that it has all happened,” he said at length.

  Drummond turned to him slowly.

  “Make England believe that it will happen, unless…”

  The sentence uncompleted, he strode off, and Trafalgar Square swallowed him up.

  Series Information

  Dates given are for year of first publication.

  ‘Bulldog Drummond’ Series

  These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

  1. Bulldog Drummond 1920

  2. The Black Gang 1922

  3. The Third Round 1924

  4. The Final Count 1926

  5. The Female of the Species 1928

  6. Temple Tower 1929

  7. The Return of Bulldog Drummond 1932

  8. Knock Out 1933

  9. Bulldog Drummond At Bay 1935

  10. Challenge 1937

  ‘Ronald Standish’ Series

  These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

  1. Knock Out 1933

  2. Ask For Ronald Standish 1936

  3. Challenge 1937

  ‘Jim Maitland’

  These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

  1. Jim Maitland 1933

  2. The Island of Terror 1937

  Synopses - All Titles

  Published by House of Stratus

  Ask for Ronald Standish

  Introducing debonair detective, Ronald Standish – good-looking, refined, and wealthy enough to be selective in taking cases that are of special interest to him. There are twelve tales in this compelling collection, written by the creator of Bulldog Drummond, who once more proves his mastery with the cream of detection.

  The Black Gang

  Although the First World War is over, it seems that the hostilities are not, and when Captain Hugh ‘Bulldog’ Drummond discovers that a stint of bribery and blackmail is undermining England’s democratic tradition, he forms the Black Gang, bent on tracking down the perpetrators of such plots. They set a trap to lure the criminal mastermind behind these subversive attacks to England, and all is going to plan until Bulldog Drummond accepts an invitation to tea at the Ritz with a charming American clergyman and his dowdy daughter.

  Bulldog Drummond

  ‘Demobilised officer, finding peace incredibly tedious, would welcome diversion. Legitimate, if possible; but crime, if of a comparatively humorous description, no objection. Excitement essential... Reply at once Box X10.’

  Hungry for adventure following the First World War, Captain Hugh ‘Bulldog’ Drummond begins a career as the invincible protectorate of his country. His first reply comes from a beautiful young woman, who sends him racing off to investigate what at first looks like blackmail but turns out to be far more complicated and dangerous. The rescue of a kidnapped millionaire, found with his thumbs horribly mangled, leads Drummond to the discovery of a political conspiracy of awesome scope and villainy, masterminded by the ruthless Carl Peterson.

  Bulldog Drummond At Bay

  While Hugh ‘Bulldog’ Drummond is staying in an old cottage for a peaceful few days duck-shooting, he is disturbed one night by the sound of men shouting, followed by a large stone that comes crashing through the window. When he goes outside to investigate, he finds a patch of blood in the road, and is questioned by two men who tell him that they are chasing a lunatic who has escaped from the nearby asylum. Drummond plays dumb, but is determined to investigate in his inimitable style when he discovers a cryptic message.

  Challenge

  When Colonel Henry Talbot summons Bulldog Drummond and Ronald Standish, it is to inform them of the mysterious death of one of their colleagues – Jimmy Latimer. At the time of his death, he was on a big job, and was travelling on a boat to Newhaven when he died. But there was no sign of any wound, no trace of any weapon when they found him in his cabin. What strikes Drummond and Standish is why millionaire, Charles Burton, would have been travelling on the same boat – arguably the most uncomfortable crossing he could choose and very out-of-character.

  The Dinner Club

  A fascinating collection of tales, including stories related by members of a select club consisting of an actor, a barrister, a doctor, a soldier, a writer and an ‘ordinary man’. Each member of this club is obliged to entertain his fellows to dinner from time to time, after which he relates a story connected with his profession or trade – the only penalty is a donation to a worthy charity should he fail to keep his audience awake. Readers of these excellent stories may rest assured that there is no such danger.

  The Female of the Species

  Bulldog Drummond has slain his archenemy, Carl Peterson, but Peterson’s mistress lives on and is intent on revenge. Drummond’s wife vanishes, followed by a series of vicious traps set by a malicious adversary, which lead to a hair-raising chase across England, to a sinister house and a fantastic torture-chamber modelled on Stonehenge, with its legend of human sacrifice.

  The Final Count

  When Robin Gaunt, inventor of a terrifyingly powerful weapon of chemical warfare, goes missing, the police suspect that he has ‘sold out’ to the other side. But Bulldog Drummond is convinced of his innocence, and can think of only one man brutal enough to use the weapon to hold the world to ransom. Drummond receives an invitation to a sumptuous dinner-dance aboard an airship that is to mark the beginning of his final battle for triumph.

  The Finger of Fate

  The title story in this wry collection concerns acquaintances Staunton and Barstow, who witness a bizarre spectacle outside a bar in an Austrian village. A thin-lipped aristocrat steps down from his plush horse-drawn vehicle, and commences formidable target-practice on some playing cards – the Five of Hearts and the Five of Spades. Barstow remains utterly still during this peculiar display, and it emerges that he has witnessed this on six consecutive days – the shooter is the husband of his mistress, and he is challenging Barstow to a duel. Further stories of love, revenge, jealousy and fate complete this stirring volume.

 
The Island of Terror

  When intrepid adventurer, Jim Maitland, returns to England for a brief visit, he meets a charming young woman named Judy Draycott, who solicits his help in a perilous matter. She relates the story of her brother, Arthur – drifting in South America until he meets an old sailor who, on his deathbed, tells him about a hoard of buried treasure. When Arthur is shot during an attempt to return to London, Maitland persuades his cousin, Percy, to accompany him to Lone Tree Island, where the treasure is allegedly buried. But what can they do with only half a map? And can they evade the undesirables on their trail?

  Jim Brent

  A soldier with a death wish is the subject of the title story in this inspiring collection of First World War experiences. Jim Brent, serving in Belgium with the Royal Engineers, has his heart broken when his sweetheart announces she is to marry someone else. He becomes instantly fearless and suggests a wild scheme to blow up a bridge – which could very well cost him his life.

  Jim Maitland

  Immaculate, charming, fearless wanderer, Jim Maitland, has a peculiar code of morals and an unforgettable character. Our enthusiastic narrator, Leyton, meets the legendary Maitland on the Island of Tampico – a flawless jewel in a sapphire sea, with more vice than the slums of a city – and leaps at the chance to accompany this charismatic man on his spontaneous travels.

  John Walters

  In the ranks of North Sussex – Number Three Platoon – serves a man whose physical stature is imposing, but whose mental state is said to be inert at best. This is the story of his remarkable awakening, one hot day in May, as he serves in the trenches of the front line. Other fascinating stories follow in this convincing commentary of wartime experience.