Such Power is Dangerous

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Right, then we’d best get inside. Mr. Druce, I’m Superintendent Marrofat; there’s some fresh evidence in your case, but the man wouldn’t make a statement unless you were present, that’s why we brought you up from Brixton. Come this way, please.’

  Wondering more than ever what could have happened, Nelson followed Rudd and the Superintendent into the next room, the Inspector brought up the rear.

  It was a small, white-painted bedroom, and Ronnie sheringham lay there on the bed with his eyes closed. On a chair at his side sat a man in civilian clothes, evidently a doctor. At the foot of the bed stood a hospital nurse.

  ‘How is he, Doc?’ asked the Superintendent.

  ‘Pretty bad, but I reckon he’ll last out tomorrow.’

  Ronnie opened his eyes, his face was deathly white, absolutely drained of blood, but he made a feeble movement to rise, and smiled as he saw Nelson Druce.

  ‘Hullo, Druce,’ he said, in a weak voice. ‘Glad they got you here so soon. I’m afraid I’m for it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nelson quietly. ‘What happened? Have you had an accident?’

  Ronnie shook his head feebly. The doctor raised him a little on his pillows, he coughed and the nurse wiped his lips with a piece of lint. Upon it showed a trickle of blood. Ronnie looked round at the little group of faces.

  ‘Ready, chaps?’ he asked.

  The Inspector had his note-book open upon his knee. He nodded.

  ‘Right. Well, I’m done for, I’ll be dead tomorrow, so that’s that, otherwise I would never make this statement, but as a dying man it’s up to me to tell the truth.’ He paused and looked at Captain Rudd.

  ‘You remember me in Hollywood. You remember that I dined with Avril Bamborough the night Donelli was shot?’

  ‘That’s so,’ said the American.

  ‘You remember I said that I was the first to reach her room after the shot?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Well, I never left her, only for a few minutes to fetch something from my own room. When I came back she was fighting with that wop. It was I who shot him, d’you understand?’

  ‘So you say,’ drawled Captain Rudd.

  ‘That’s the truth. Her yarn about another man breaking in was to cover me. The chap was seen running through the garden may have been anybody—nobody saw him climb down from her room—there was no other man. I was with her in the room when the house detective came. I should have thought you would have guessed. I’d been seeing her every day. It was plain enough that I was in love with her.’

  Captain Rudd nodded. ‘Yep, that fits all right. I guess I oughta have spotted that—but where’s Druce come in?’

  ‘He doesn’t, nobody would ever have thought of him, if he hadn’t fallen in love with Avril Bamborough too. Then like a mug, when you arrested her, he went and made a false confession to get her off. You would have laughed at him and never let yourself be taken in by that—if it hadn’t been that Donelli was supposed to have killed his father the night before, and you haven’t even got proof of that.’

  ‘That’s a fact—we got nothing on him, except motive—but I will say that seemed pretty clear. Whose was the gun?’

  ‘Mine, of course, I always carry one in the States, chap has to if the police can’t make it safe.’ A gleam of Ronnie’s old humour showed in his eyes, as he delivered this last thrust. He sank back on his pillows, white and exhausted.

  ‘Well, I guess that lets you out, Druce.’ Captain Rudd looked at the pale, drawn face of the young man at his side.

  Nelson was almost stunned by this strange confession, which lifted the guilt from his shoulders. He could hardly believe it to be really true. He drew a hand across his forehead and muttered thickly: ‘Yes, it lets me out all right. I guess that’s true.’

  ‘Now, Mr. Sheringham,’ the Superintendent leaned forward, ‘we’d like to know how you came to arrive at the Yard with a couple of bullets in you, and darn near dead.’

  Ronnie opened his eyes again. ‘Better give me another shot, doctor, I feel—beastly weak.’

  The doctor picked up the hypodermic which lay ready in its bath of spirit, on a table by the bed. He fitted it together and gave the injection in the upper arm.

  Ronnie closed his eyes once more and lay quite still for a few moments, then he spoke again, his voice coming stronger than before. ‘Chap named Hinckman shot me.’

  ‘Where was this?’ asked Marrofat.

  ‘Place called the Cottage on the Common, near Cutmill, in Surrey.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘About half-past eight.’

  ‘Was there a quarrel?’

  Ronnie nodded.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Same girl—Avril Bamborough—but it was over business this time.’

  ‘Give us what particulars you can.’

  ‘She has the rights on a patent. It was Druce’s invention to begin with. Hinckman’s the head of an American syndicate, they want this thing pretty badly—it means a lot to them. There’s a girl called Vitelma Loveday—she’s Druce’s fiancée—and they’ve got her over from America, she had some scheme to get him off. I arranged a meeting between her and Avril Bamborough—drove Avril there myself from Hatfield this evening. Vitelma was at the cottage—Avril didn’t know Hinckman was there. Druce’s fiancée offered to get him off if Avril would hand over the patent—but she wouldn’t—then the trouble began.’ Ronnie paused for breath, he choked again, and the nurse carefully wiped the blood from his lips. He lay still for a moment.

  ‘Don’t hurry yourself,’ said the Superintendent.

  ‘All right,’ Ronnie answered feebly. ‘Well, up to that time Avril didn’t know Vitelma was acting for the Combine, but when she wouldn’t sign Hinckman came in with one of his gunmen. They tried to force her, but I couldn’t stand for that.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘There was a scrap,’ Ronnie grinned suddenly. ‘I ousted the gunman, cracked a bottle over his head, then I got busy on Hinckman with the broken end—but I was unlucky—he got the other chap’s gun off the floor—and shot me—I faded out after that.’

  Superintendent Marrofat stretched out his large hand for the telephone. ‘Squad call,’ he said sharply. ‘Three cars and issue automatics.’ He turned back to Ronnie. ‘How did you manage to get away?’

  ‘I came to about ten minutes later, I suppose, it couldn’t have been much more. I was lying on the floor of an out-house, with the body of the fellow I’d done in. I crawled out and managed to reach my car, then drove straight here.’

  ‘God! you’ve got some pluck.’

  ‘I’d have passed out before I got here, if I’d stopped to see a doctor on the way,’ Ronnie said weakly.

  ‘What happened to Avril?’ Nelson’s voice was filled with tense anxiety.

  ‘Don’t know. Didn’t see her after I was shot. I expect she’s still there.’

  Nelson jumped to his feet. ‘Look here—I just hate to leave you, Sheringham. like this, but anything might happen to her now—if she’s alone with Hinckman.’

  ‘I know—don’t worry about me. The place is just past Shackleford—about a mile, there’s a dip, and as you go up the far side you’ll see a red letter-box nailed to a tree—then—there’s a workman’s cottage on the other side, it’s behind that, down a—a track, about three hundred yards from the road.’

  The Superintendent and the Inspector were already near the door, Marrofat looked at Nelson Druce.

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t take you, sir—it’s against regulations, you’re still under arrest.’

  ‘But I must go,’ Nelson cried. ‘I simply must, and I’ve been cleared.’

  ‘We can’t release you at this time of night, there’s formalities to go through. That’ll be tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Now, listen,’ Nelson pleaded. ‘I give you my word I won’t try an’ escape, for God’s sake take me along.’

  Superintendent Marrofat looked sympathetic. Druce’s ter
rible anxiety was plain to all. ‘Well, it’s up to Captain Rudd,’ he said briefly, ‘you’re his prisoner—not ours—we’re only holding you for safe custody. If he takes responsibility, I’m willing.’

  ‘Sure,’ Captain Rudd nodded. ‘I ain’t got nothin’ on Mr. Druce—let’s go get these guys.’

  Nelson gave a sigh of relief. ‘That’s great of you, Captain.’ Then he stepped over to Ronnie’s bed and took his hand. ‘Sheringham, I guess you know what I feel—I can’t say …’

  Ronnie stopped him with a warning look. ‘You’ve got nothing to thank me for,’ he said, ‘except a couple of weeks in Brixton. I’m sorry about that—but I wouldn’t have let you go to the chair.’ His blue eyes gave the ghost of a smile. ‘Still, if you feel that way about it you might be a good chap and clear up my bills—will you?—they’re only a few hundreds—nothing to you—and I always meant to pay them some time. If you like to put it against this evening—count it as—man’s time.’

  ‘Sure. Of course I will.’ Nelson pressed his hand, he felt a brute leaving him, but there was Avril. Feeling suddenly sick at the thought of what might have happened to her, he tore himself away.

  A few minutes later the shrill sirens of the squad cars, setting out upon their night dash down into Surrey, came clearly to the little bedroom high above the Thames Embankment.

  Ronnie turned feebly to the doctor. ‘Well, that’s that,’ he said; and then after a moment, ‘Wasn’t it Charles the Second who apologised for being a long time dying? He—he was a great chap, Charles the Second.… I hate dying—but—but after all it’s better than cancer at sixty, isn’t it? and I’ve had a damn fine time.’

  His lips twitched in a smile. ‘Terribly sorry, doctor—if—if—I keep you waiting—now.’

  24

  The Fight in the Woods

  The long, low police cars dashed out of the yard, Nelson was in the back of the foremost, with Superintendent Marrofat and Captain Rudd. Inspector Gartside sat beside the driver. The others were filled with members of the flying squad.

  With amazing speed they flashed through the streets of south-west London. The theatres were just coming out, so the amount of traffic was considerable, but in an almost magic manner the blocks of taxis and private cars seemed to dissolve in front of them. There was no fuss or excitement, no policemen on point duty brought his hand to the salute. Senior officers in private clothes are never publicly recognised by the force, but every man knew the special number on Superintendent Marrofat’s big car. With that amazing efficiency of which the outward signs are only a few quiet signals, almost imperceptible to the general public, the traffic was held or diverted, and the squad cars raced unchecked through open streets. Every man on duty knew that the flying squad were going forth to battle.

  They were through Hammersmith and across Barnes Common almost before Nelson realised that they had cleared Greater London. Up the rise past Sandown Park, now innocent of its crowd of racegoers, through Esher and sleeping Chobham, out into the open country beyond. Past Foxwarren, with its private Zoo shrouded in darkness, the lake at Wisley a shimmer of pale light under the stars. On through the pinewoods with a deafening roar, then the outskirts of Guildford. Here again the police had been warned by wireless from Scotland Yard, belated motorists had been held or sidetracked at the first long blast upon the sirens of the racing cars. They tore down the steep cobbled hill of the old Cavalier city, swerved to the right, and up the rise past the station into the open country once more.

  The Superintendent had wasted no time. He asked Nelson for particulars regarding Hinckman directly they had swung through the gates of Scotland Yard.

  Nelson related all he knew or suspected of the gigantic conspiracy to control the Film Industry of the whole world, which had begun in Hollywood nearly three months before. He found that the Superintendent was already aware of Avril’s belief that John Bamborough’s death was deliberate murder, and was well informed about the fire at Frensham and the case which was being brought against Hinckman for attempted murder of the watchmen. Captain Rudd also proved well up in these affairs, and in addition, had considerable knowledge of the happenings on the other side of the Atlantic. Both were now convinced that this proposed Combine, headed by the Trans-Continental Electric magnate, was no wild figment of the imagination, but a definite menace, to accomplish which the leaders were prepared to go to any lengths.

  With luck they should find Hinckman still at the cottage, but it was unlikely that he would be alone. It seemed probable that Ronnie Sheringham had accounted for one of the gangsters who had killed John Bamborough, but there was the other. He might be lurking there somewhere, and Hinckman was not the man to go about unaccompanied, there were probably servants who could be trusted to help him in a scrap. It looked as if there would be trouble when they reached their destination. As they rushed through Guildford they fell to thinking of the approaching fight. The Superintendent was profoundly thankful that he had ordered automatics to be issued to his men.

  Nelson was thinking of Avril. She was there alone. She had been a witness to the shooting of Ronnie—after that, would Hinckman let her go? Nelson prayed desperately that in the confusion of the moment, he might, but he doubted it; and he dared not dwell on what might happen to her.

  Hinckman would be desperate now, Nelson knew. No longer the calm, forceful big business man, but turned by sheer force of circumstances into a hardened criminal. His decision to kill Barton Druce had led him, from that fatal night, into a web of intrigue which had compelled him to adopt one unscrupulous measure after another, unless he was prepared to witness the complete collapse of his vast plans. Lately he had even abandoned reasonable precautions. Tonight he had come out from behind his screen of gunmen and killed Ronnie with his own hand, while at least two witnesses were present. If he had been driven to such desperate measures he might murder Avril, in order to close her mouth. Nelson felt the perspiration break out under his scalp. All the relief which he should have been feeling at his miraculous release from prison was swamped by his terrible anxiety for her.

  The narrower lanes necessitated more careful driving, but every member of the police who is allotted to a squad car wheel is picked from hundreds for his skill and nerve. The headlights blazed upon an ever-changing prospect of hedgerows and green trees as they took the bends and rises with almost breakneck speed. The towers of Charterhouse were left unseen in the darkness to their left, and a few minutes later they came to a halt upon the open common, some hundred yards beyond the red letter-box nailed to a tree-trunk. It was barely fifty minutes since they had left Scotland Yard.

  They tumbled out upon the road almost before the cars had stopped. Marrofat and Gartside held a quick consultation in the darkness.

  ‘This’ll be the track,’ said the big man. ‘I’ll take that, the house is about three hundred yards on, so they say. Take the men in the second car up the road, Gartside, and come in from the north. Captain Rudd,’ he paid his brother officer from overseas the compliment of giving him a separate command, ‘take the lot in the third car, across the heath and come in from the back. All drivers but one come with me.’

  As he spoke a shrill whistle sounded out of the bracken, close to the road. ‘Hello!’ he added, ‘they’re on the look-out, that’s a pity, we may have to use our pistols. Don’t shoot, though, unless they shoot at us.’

  An automatic cracked from the place where they had heard the whistle, the bullet sped harmlessly over their heads.

  ‘Swine!’ cried Marrofat. ‘We’ll learn ‘em—come on, boys,’ and without any thought of cover, he set off running down the track.

  Nelson dashed after him, he had all he could do to keep up with the Superintendent. The big man was amazingly agile despite his bulk.

  A dark figure was racing on ahead of them, the sentinel had left his cover in the bracken, Nelson thought, and even as the idea came to his mind, the man turned quickly in his tracks and fired. One of the police chauffeurs stopped the bullet. He swore lo
udly but ran on. ‘Blighter got me in the arm,’ he gasped.

  Two cars were standing near the house, Hinckman’s big Daimler and a small two-seater. A spurt of fire came from behind the large car, Wally, the chauffeur, had joined in. The other man had reached him, and together they bolted for the house.

  ‘Stop there, you,’ roared the Superintendent, ‘we’re police officers. Stop, I say.’

  Neither of the men paid any attention. A sudden crash of shots came from the moor. Gartside’s men had opened fire from the other side…. The chauffeur pitched and tumbled, they caught a glimpse of his cap as he fell before a lighted window. The other man ran on and gained the house.

  A spurt of fire came from the window before which the chauffeur had fallen. For one second they saw the yellow face of the Oriental and then the light went out. The police driver who had been hit before, gasped and fell, he had stopped a second bullet.

  Marrofat came to a halt before the fence and crouched quickly in the ditch. He fired three times in rapid succession into the window where the light had been. There was the splintering sound of flying glass, and then shots in return.

  A burst of firing came from the other side of the house and then two clear single shots in reply; Captain Rudd had brought his men into action. The Superintendent put his whistle to his lips and blew two short shrill blasts. At his signal the squad men leapt out of the bracken and rushed the house from all sides.

  After that pandemonium broke loose. The Superintendent threw his whole weight against the kitchen door, it gave like matchboard. The yellow man was there crouching in a corner. His pistol blazed, but the Superintendent ducked, and one of his men fired from over his shoulder. The Oriental choked and fell forward in a heap, blood streaming from his mouth. They pulled his body aside and rushed into the passage. Rudd was there, having forced an entrance at the back.

  ‘Hot lot, ain’t they?’ gasped the little, tubby American. ‘We gave one guy his, guess it was the bird in them bushes.’ His face was streaming with perspiration, but he seemed in his element.