Nelson had dashed back into the building once more. Avril was driven from the door by the choking, acrid fumes, she coughed and spluttered as they caught her in the throat. The whole place was a raging furnace now, from the crackling and the reddish glare she knew that the films had caught and the celluloid rolls were flaring up like tinder. Two of the nearest huts had caught, their matchboard sides roared and crackled.
Avril stood there on the edge of the black, billowing smoke, sparks falling all about her; she was frantic with terror that Nelson would never come out of that hell alive. Bitterly now she regretted her high-minded principles that had seemed so sound and right only half an hour before. If only he would come safely back she would marry him anyhow, she loved him, what did it matter if he were engaged a dozen times, or married even—he was hers—she wanted him desperately, madly, with every fibre of her being.
At last he came staggering blindly through the smoke, dragging the other camera, its tripod dangling behind. She ran to him, flinging her arms about him with a little sob, and supporting him to safety out of the range of that terrible heat.
They collapsed together on a little bank, sobbing and gasping, the camera fallen in a ditch. His hands were burnt and blistered, the smell of his singed clothing came strongly to her nostrils, his face was blackened and covered with soot; as he drew the back of his hand across his eyes, the smears showed strongly upon his chalk-white face.
‘Those men,’ he said hoarsely, jerking himself to his feet. ‘They’ll sure be roast where they are.’
They stumbled round the corner to the far end of the shed again. The clothes of the man who was on top were already smouldering. Nelson and Avril pulled them into safety.
‘They’re not dead?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘No, drugged, the fools! It was in their beer, I reckon.’
They stood there silently. There was nothing to be done, the whole group of buildings was sailing skyward in a cascade of flame and sparks. The local fire-brigade were miles away, nothing but twisted iron and charred wood could remain by the time they arrived upon the scene, even if there were a telephone available to give the alarm immediately.
Avril slipped her arm through his, she knew that nothing she could say would console him at that moment. As she looked up into his face, she saw that tears were coursing silently down his cheeks.
‘Darling,’ she murmured. ‘Darling.’
He withdrew his arm and placed it round her shoulder, drawing her to him. ‘We’re finished, sweet,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Every darn foot of film’s gone up in smoke. I’ll never be able to pay back Issey now.’
18
Police Protection
Lord Gavin Fortescue walked slowly up and down, his small hands clasped behind his back, his heavy head tilted forward on his chest. Although it was July, a fire was burning in the grate of his private sitting-room. His stick was leaning against the side of his arm-chair. Upon the table stood a stack of pass-books.
He was staying at Claridges. Lord Gavin had no home; from year’s end to year’s end, the restless spirit in his frail body compelled him to wander the face of the earth. At all the best hotels in Europe he was a well-known figure, and a welcome guest. His requirements were small but his payment lavish. He had never been known to question an account provided he was well served, but if he suffered the slightest inconvenience, the management knew that he would never visit their hotel again.
In front of the stack of pass-books on the table lay an eightfold sheet of paper. It was spread open to its full extent and hung over at each end. Upon it were literally hundreds of typed figures, it was the balance sheet which Lord Gavin caused to be prepared each week showing the financial situation of the Combine. The figures were approximate, of course, and it would have taken a qualified accountant a month’s hard work to digest their true significance. They were compiled from dozens of other reports and schedules received from the allied American Corporations, Lord Gavin’s bankers, and his brokers, in London, Paris, Berlin, and New York.
A small, bald-headed man was at work upon the sheet annotating certain figures in clear, minute writing. From time to time he made a comment in a thin, falsetto voice. His hands were large, the knuckles big and bony, so that at first sight it seemed that they were crippled from acute rheumatism. But that was not the case, such are the signs in the hand which show a born calculator, and this man was a highly gifted accountant. It was he who put the finishing touches to all Lord Gavin’s business statements after they had been compiled and checked by his numerous assistants.
‘I don’t like our margins,’ he remarked after a long pause.
‘My dear Todd, neither do I,’ Lord Gavin answered with some asperity. ‘Yet we have completed with less on previous occasions.’
‘Yes,’ the little man answered slowly, ‘but are we near completion?’
‘I trust so. I have been forcing the pace a little recently for that very reason.’
‘Quite, quite.’ Mr. Todd wondered exactly what ‘forcing the pace’ implied on this occasion. Mr. Todd often wondered about Lord Gavin’s doings when he was listening, with half an ear, to his large wife, as she discoursed endlessly upon the human frailty of their neighbours at Tooting. He had some very shrewd suspicions regarding these vast transactions, but he did not seek to verify them. That was not his business, besides, if by chance one fine day anything did go wroag—he had his professional reputation to think of, it was far better that he should know nothing. It sufficed for Mr. Todd that Lord Gavin Fortescue was a very fine client, and incidentally, his brother was a Duke. Even Mr. Todd felt a little reflected glory added to his own monotonous existence by that association.
The door of the sitting-room opened abruptly and Hinckman strode in. Lord Gavin looked up quickly, he made a sign to Todd. ‘You may go now—the same time tomorrow.’
Mr. Todd folded his papers and put them in his attaché case. ‘Tomorrow, yes—shall we say the end of the month, then?’
Lord Gavin knew quite well to what he referred. He nodded. ‘I think so—before, perhaps.’
‘Well, I’d like to see this thing cleared up—I think it should be fairly soon. Good day, Lord Gavin.’ Mr. Todd closed the door quietly behind him.
Lord Gavin fixed his pale blue eyes on Hinckman’s ruddy face. He waited for him to speak.
‘It’s all okay,’ said Hinckman. ‘The fire gutted the whole place.’
‘So I gathered from what little was in the papers this morning. Did you get the cameras?’
‘No, what ‘ud we want with the cameras?’ Hinckman looked surprised.
‘You are certain that they were destroyed as well as the film?’
‘Sure.’
‘Good … all the same, if you had secured them, we might have possessed ourselves of certain information regarding this new projector.’
‘That’s so—but what’ud be the use—they’re patents, we couldn’t infringe ‘em.’
‘No, but we could have placed orders for a number to be manufactured, they would have been ready then for immediate use, and when Pacific smashes we shall secure the patents for a song.’
‘I certainly wish I’d thought of that—but I guess it’s too late now.’
‘No matter. Have you heard from Vandelstein?’
‘Yep, he wants till the end of the month to go further into things—says he’s gone sick an’ can’t touch business at the present time ‘cause he’s in a sanatorium. But I doubt that’s true—he as good as says he’ll come in, though.’
Lord Gavin nodded. ‘He sees that we are getting the upper hand, but it is a pity that he will not decide earlier, time is becoming an important factor.’
‘That’s so, we can’t go on weighing out like this, an’ I figure It’ud be fatal to start cutting salaries before the Combine’s floated. You’ll have heard that the girl’s been appointed chairman at Hatfield. She was down there yesterday with young Druce.’
‘I see. Well, that does not worry m
e to any marked extent. We can deal with her.’
‘Yep. I’ll fix her all right, an’ I’ve a notion that’ll get young Druce rattled too.’
‘Naturally, if he fears Hatfield is about to slip through his fingers.’
‘I don’t mean it that way. I’ve got a hunch he’s gone sweet on the girl.’
‘Indeed—what leads you to suppose that?’
‘Hall porter on her block. Swears Druce was in her apartment night before last, he caught him talking to her in the hallway with her hair all down. Then yesterday, she took him to Hatfield in her own automobile. After, when they got back, they mealed together.’
‘That is interesting,’ said Lord Gavin thoughtfully. ‘Did he go to her flat again last night?’
‘Don’t know, she parked her auto in St. James’s Square while they fed, after, they picked it up again. That fool Lupas lost ’em in the Piccadilly traffic. He figured they’d turn right, into one of those streets running down to Curzon Street, on the way to her flat, but they weren’t there when he made it.’
There was a quick knock and Ronnie came in. ‘Hullo, chaps!’ He flung his soft hat on a chair. ‘Heard the news?’
‘I’ll buy it,’ growled Hinckman.
‘There was a Studio burnt out near Frensham last night, quite a small place, but they say Nelson Druce was connected with it.’
‘You don’t say! I figure you bin reading the news-sheets bright and early.’
Ronnie grinned. ‘Yes, I spotted it when I was having breakfast, thought you’d be interested. By the by,’ he added casually, ‘Frensham’s down in Surrey—isn’t that the place where you’ve taken a cottage?’
‘Yep, nearby—mine’s at Cutmill. Why?’ Hinckman’s face hardened.
‘Oh, nothing—though why you want to live out at a place like that while you’re ’n England—God knows.’
‘ ’Cause I like the air, and ‘cause I like quiet—’sides, it’s mighty handy sometimes to have a place where every news tout can’t drive me batty.’
‘Yes, I suppose you do get pestered a good bit by reporters. I wonder what Druce wanted with a little place like that in England when he has those enormous Studios in the States?’
Hinckman did not trouble to answer. He stood up and walked towards the door, addressing Lord Gavin casually over his shoulder. ‘My party’s fixed for this afternoon. I’ll give you a wire if there’s trouble, but I figure it’ll be the last nail in their coffin. See-yer-later.’
Lord Gavin nodded. ‘I shall be interested to hear.’
As the door closed on Hinckman’s broad back he turned to Ronnie. ‘Nelson Druce?’ he said slowly. ‘When we were in Hollywood, what did you learn about him—personally, I mean?’
‘Not much—just the rather clever young American, reads books, and dabbles in science a bit. I told you about his “Z” Projector at the time, if you remember. He’s engaged to Vitelma Loveday, the film star.’
‘Do you happen to know Miss Loveday?’
‘Oh, rather!—well, that is, I’ve met her once or twice,’ Ronnie hastened to qualify his statement.
‘I see—and what is she like?’
‘Superior chewing-gum blonde—too, too lovely, of course, but quite dumb.’
Lord Gavin took a small black book from his despatch box. ‘Loveday!’ he murmured. Ah, here we have her record.’ He studied the report carefully for a few minutes and then put the book back.
‘A vain woman,’ he said cryptically, ‘is a danger to her acquaintances. I think we must persuade Miss Loveday to honour us with a visit to these shores.’
Some ten minutes later Ronnie took down a carefully coded cablegram for despatch to some person in Hollywood of whom he had never heard.
Less than a quarter of a mile away, Nelson Druce had just joined Avril, in a quiet corner of the lounge at the Dorchester.
‘How are the burns?’ she asked at once.
He looked down at his bandaged hands. ‘Pretty painful, but I guess they might be worse.’ His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, but otherwise his face had not suffered at all.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Avril. ‘I’ve had an idea.’
‘Well, we certainly can do with it,’ he smiled at her. ‘I was turning things over in my mind this morning, and I figure we’re pretty well all in.’
‘Not yet. Listen, why can’t we make that film again?’
‘Make it again? What good’ll that do us? It took me close on six weeks before, we’d never be able to finish it and exhibit before the month’s up—so what’s the use?’
‘Why not?’ Avril leant forward eagerly. ‘Let’s make it at Hatfield—you saved your cameras, and we’ve got everything you will need in the way of plant.’
He smiled doubtfully. ‘Well, it’s a great idea, but it’s a question of time. There’s two hundred hours’ work in that film. I’m afraid it just can’t be done.’
‘It can—working fourteen hours a day you could make it in a fortnight.’
‘That’s so—but do you see Myrtle Savage working fourteen hours a day, and remember, the star features in two-thirds of the shots in this production.’
‘No,’ said Avril, ‘I don’t, but with Myrtle Savage it’s not a question of life or death, with us it is. I will take her part—live down at Hatfield, sleep on the set, if you like, but we’ll get it done between us.’
His look suddenly changed from doubt to excitement and delight. ‘D’you mean that, Avril? My! But it’s a whale of an idea—an’ just marvellous of you to think of it. It’ll be hell’s own grind, but if you’re game to do it—I guess it can be done.’
‘Splendid,’ she cried. ‘I knew you’d agree. There’s only one thing that’s been worrying me—the script, was that burnt, too, last night?’
‘No, we’re all right there, I’ve got a copy of the scenario right here in the hotel.’
‘Can I have it this afternoon?’
‘Sure, we won’t waste a single moment. I’ll have the same cast down at Hatfield by nine o’clock tomorrow, all except Miss Savage. That’ll help a whole heap, they know their parts backward—it’ll be easy money for them running through those shots again. I guess you’re right, we’ll make it in a fortnight. Avril, you’ve brought me new life.’
‘I think you had better move down there, too,’ she suggested. ‘There’s plenty of spare offices, we can fix them up as bedrooms and the principal people who are to be featured had better stay there as well. Then we can work any hours we like.’
‘That’s the idea. It’ll be a good thing for another reason. I’m scared of you living in that flat all on your own. You’ll certainly be safer at Hatfield.’
‘Quite safe, I hope. I’ve been to Scotland Yard this morning, Nelson, I didn’t say anything about the fire at Frensham—no particulars, I mean—I thought I’d better leave that to you, there is bound to be an enquiry about your drugged watchmen. I told them that I intended to live down at Hatfield for a time, and then about Barton Druce being shot when I was in America. I told them, too, I wasn’t satisfied that Uncle John’s death was altogether an accident, and about the fires in the Pacific Studios in America.’
‘What had they got to say?’
‘Well, they were just a little difficult, it was an awfully nice inspector man I saw, and he had a very lively mind; once I’d started he wanted to know all sorts of things, but I managed to fob him off fairly well. To tell the whole truth makes an almost unbelieveable story, and we haven’t got a shred of evidence against Hinckman. I tried as far as possible to make him believe that these things were the work of Communists and that I was frightened of trouble at Hatfield. I know he thought that there was more in it than that; anyhow he was sufficiently impressed to promise that one of his best men from the special branch should be sent down and half a dozen ordinary detectives.’
‘I’m glad you did that. Hinckman’s getting pretty desperate, those two poor devils of watchmen would have been roast alive if we hadn’t chanced along last nig
ht. We’ve just got to keep our eyes clean skinned from now on. You can be sure Hinckman’ll make more trouble for us the moment he hears we’re at work again.’
Avril and Nelson lunched together in the Spanish Grill and during the meal he gave her a brief but clear outline of the film that they proposed to make together. Afterwards he dwelt at some length upon the technique of her more important scenes, then he fetched the scenario, and Avril took it back to her flat with her at once, in order that she might dig into it right away.
She had barely settled herself in her sitting-room with the manuscript before her when her parlourmaid came in.
‘There’s a gentleman to see you, miss.’
Avril looked up, she was expecting no one. ‘Did he give his name?’
‘Yes, miss, it’s a Mr. Hinckman, he said you’d know his name.’
Avril knew his name indeed. Should she refuse to see him? Better not. Obviously he would not be fool enough to attempt any violence against her personally in the middle of the afternoon. He left that sort of thing to his hired gunmen. This was probably some new move in the game. Perhaps he was about to make the same proposal to her as he had to her uncle—it would be best to hear his intentions right away. ‘Show him in,’ she said quietly.
He entered the room, massive and smiling, he showed no trace of the ill-will which she expected him to bear her for having skipped her bail at Hollywood.
‘Well, Miss Bamborough, it’s great to see you after all this time.’ He flung his hat on the floor and sank into an arm-chair.
‘Really,’ she said non-committally. ‘May I ask you the purpose of this visit?’
‘Sure. I’m here to offer congratulations—’tisn’t every day a star becomes a big noise on the production side.’
A dangerous gleam came into Avril’s eyes. She owed that to her uncle’s death, and this man with the high cheekbones and hard eyes was, she was sure, responsible for his murder. ‘I do not think I care to talk about that,’ she said firmly.
Such Power is Dangerous Page 19