‘I’ll take upstairs, you take down,’ bellowed Marrofat. squeezing his way up the narrow stairs. Nelson hesitated, the lights were on in the downstairs rooms, perhaps the Superintendent was giving his American colleague the honours of the battle. He decided to follow Rudd, who was already running down the passage to the end room.
Rudd burst the door of the sitting-room open with a rush, two deafening reports followed close upon one another, Hinckman stood, broad and massive, at the far end of the room, a smoking automatic clutched in his hand, his face grey and set. The first bullet had taken the American detective in the shoulder, and as he fell backward, the second sang past Nelson’s head. Nelson caught a glimpse of Vitelma, wide-eyed and terrified, crouching upon the floor near the fire-place. He realised with growing terror that Avril was nowhere to be seen. Next second he had charged Hinckman.
The automatic flashed again, its shattering explosion sounding like a shell burst in the confined space of the room. The bullet missed Nelson but hit the man who followed him. With his free hand Hinckman snatched up the lamp and flung it at Nelson’s head. It caught him on the shoulder, knocking him sideways, he tripped and fell across a chair. In a second the paraffin was streaming across the carpet, a wide sheet of leaping flame. Marrofat had dashed down the stairs and was in the doorway, his pistol barked twice, and the shots crashed through the window. As Nelson picked himself up, he saw Hinckman spring from the window seat into the garden, apparently unhurt.
The flames were spreading rapidly, in a few seconds the armchairs were blazing, and a fierce crackling started as they seized hungrily on the old oak beams.
Rudd sat cursing in the doorway, where he had fallen, clutching his bleeding shoulder. He thrust his automatic into Nelson’s hand. ‘Go get him, boy,’ he gasped. ‘He’s sure your meat.’ He seized the collar of the wounded man who had entered the room behind Nelson, and staggering to his feet began to drag him into the passage away from the flames.
Marrofat bellowed sharp orders to the remaining men. Two dashed back through the kitchen and two through the side door on to the loggia, in order that Hinckman might be cut off if he tried to double back round the house. Nelson, with Rudd’s automatic, had disappeared through the window, after Hinckman. Marrofat followed with mighty, crashing steps, like some elephant gone mad.
A rattle of shots sounded from the direction of the cars outside the gate. It was the wounded chauffeur, who, unnoticed, had crawled to the two-seater. He had got the engine going, and was off down the grassy track, bumping and swerving. Gartside was after him with all his troop. A back tyre burst with a loud report as it was hit, a bullet clanged upon the mudguard, another shaved the man’s head as he stooped over his wheel and shattered the windscreen. The flying glass caught him in the face, and the car swerved off the track, coming to a jerky halt. Gartside had leapt upon the running-board, thrusting his pistol in the driver’s face. The man put his hands above his head, then they fell weakly to his sides, as he collapsed from loss of blood.
Nelson and Marrofat stumbled and slipped as they dashed over the uneven ground. Shouts were coming from all directions, as they sought for Hinckman.
‘He went this way.’
‘No, he didn’t—he’s over there.’
‘There he is—there he is.’
Someone blazed into a dark bush.
‘Don’t fire,’ shouted someone else and Gartside’s men dashed round the corner.
‘Spread out,’ bellowed Marrofat. ‘Spread out, I say—don’t bunch like that.’
‘There! There he goes!’ It was a voice on Nelson’s right. He looked quickly in that direction, a dark shape was moving swiftly through the trees.
‘Help!’ came a cry. ‘Oh, help!’ from somewhere at the bottom of the garden. It was Avril’s voice. He shouted in reply:
‘Avril—Avril—where are you?’
‘Here—in the marsh—Oh! quickly—please!’
In his excitement he had lost sight of Hinckman. So, it seemed, had the men who had just sighted him. Another burst of firing sounded from far out on the left. Hinckman could not have moved so quickly. In the darkness Gartside’s men were mistaking the low bushes of the common for crouching forms.
‘Help!’ came Avril’s voice again. ‘Help!’
Nelson ran swiftly towards the stream, he tripped and fell, sprawling full length in a great dump of St. John’s wort, his gun went off in his hand, the shot echoing through the trees, the automatic was dashed from his grasp. Suddenly a figure rose beside him and a pistol exploded nearly in his face, the flash of it dazed and blinded him as a voice cried in surprise:
‘Hullo, Druce! By God, I’d like to give you yours—your girl-friend’s drowning in the pond.’
The automatic barked again, but Nelson had jerked himself aside. With a sudden turn he had Hinckman by the legs and brought him crashing to the ground.
The two men fought and struggled desperately, each striving to get his hands upon the other’s throat Hinckman had dropped his gun. They slithered from the cluster of St. John’s wort and rolled over and over down the sloping lawn. A sudden bump and they landed on the lower ground below the second terrace, Hinckman on top. For the moment every breath of wind had been driven out of Nelson’s body.
The flames were leaping now about the gables of the house, dense smoke was pouring from the windows.
‘Where the hell are you? Can’t you speak?’ Marrofat was roaring from near the house. He had dashed back with another man when Nelson’s gun had exploded as he fell, but the fight was hidden from him by the dip of the terrace, although the remainder of garden and the terrace were lit up by the fire as bright as day.
‘Help!’ came Avril’s voice again. ‘Oh, help!’
Nelson knew that she must be within a few feet of him, but he was locked in Hinckman’s fierce embrace. With all his strength he kicked out and at the same time twisted. Hinckman slipped out from on top of him and they rolled the remaining few feet towards the stream, bringing up sharply against the fence.
‘There they are! There they are!’ shouted a chorus of excited voices, and the squad men began to run towards them from all directions. In the bright light Hinckman saw them clearly, he wrenched himself free of Nelson’s clutch, and staggered to his feet. His face was damp and ashen as he leapt the fence, landing in the middle of the brook. Somebody fired as he floundered up the other bank and crashed through the low branches of the trees.
‘Don’t fire. Don’t fire,’ yelled Nelson. He was terrified that Avril would be hit.
Her voice came clearly now. ‘Here he is. Here—don’t shoot or you’ll hit me.’ Nelson stumbled to his knees, by the light of the flames he saw the ladder by the gate and ran towards it. Marrofat and the others were pounding down the slope.
Wide-eyed and haggard Hinckman was plunging through the marsh, his feet sinking deeper at every step he took, but with superhuman strength, the terror of death upon him, he wrenched them free. He stumbled upon Avril where he had left her, she was now half-buried in the mud. Nelson was out upon the far end of the ladder, the padded rope that Hinckman had used for her temporary rescue clutched in his hand. He flung it to her and she caught at it.
Hinckman was within two feet of her, he clung precariously to an armful of alder shoots, balancing by one foot upon a hummock of coarse grass. As Avril reached out and drew the padded rope towards her it seemed for one moment that he was about to snatch at it himself. It was the one certain way to safety out of that morass, but behind it lay Nelson and the police.
The glare from the burning house was now so strong that the light penetrated far into the marshy glade, throwing weird shadows from the stunted trees and high tussocks, upon the treacherous moss; lighting the little rivulets of water that filtered to the brook and glimmering upon the stagnant pools where the bog lay green and slimy, in its most dangerous form.
Hinckman looked wildly round, seeking a way to safety. In the strange, unearthly light he saw the higher ground that Avril h
ad tried to reach. He jumped and landed, both feet in the ooze, but his hands and elbows upon the firmer earth, his fingers dug into the coarse grass, and with a terrific heave he pulled himself onto the little ridge.
Avril had got the rope about her body, Nelson had commandeered a couple of the squad men to help. With one strong pull they dragged her free, onto the far end of the ladder.
Marrofat stood upon the garden bank of the brook straining his eyes into the flickering, deceptive shadows of the woods.
‘There he is!’ he cried, raising his pistol. ‘There he is!’ and as Nelson stooped to pick Avril up he caught a glimpse of Hinckman’s crouching figure running along the low strip of firm land.
The Superintendent fired twice, but Hickman ran on, bounding from side to side through the alder trees. Suddenly there was a splash and a low cry. They could not see him now but knew that he had landed in another patch of bog.
Nelson was carrying Avril up to the house, of which even the further end was blazing now. The place was a roaring furnace. Gartside assisted him to get her into Hinckman’s car. Her teeth were chattering and her limbs like ice, but her eyes were bright, and not with fever. Nelson was there—how, she did not yet know—but he was there beside her, and she held his hand in hers, while they wrapped every rug they could find about her and forced brandy down her throat.
Faintly above the roar and crackle of the flames the squad men could be heard calling to each other as they searched for Hinckman. After that one cry all trace of him had been lost. Could he have been swallowed up so suddenly by the bog? Was he out there in the darkness of the marsh, sinking by inches, yet determined not to call for help—or had he escaped to the further side? The detectives dared not penetrate far into that treacherous morass, and after half an hour the search was given up as hopeless. Marrofat left two men on duty and came to the door of Hinckman’s Daimler. Avril was seated in the back—Nelson before her, endeavouring to restore some warmth to her small feet.
With commendable discretion the Superintendent allotted a police chauffeur to the car, and closing the door left them to be driven back to London alone.
As the car jolted along the track towards the road Avril snuggled down, her head upon his shoulders—but after a moment she looked up with a little frown.
‘Nelson, I’m still worried about that wretched paper that they made me sign.’
He laughed. ‘You needn’t be, my sweet—don’t I keep telling you it must have gone up in smoke with the rest of the outfit half an hour ago?’
‘Well!’ she wriggled down again, ‘if you’re quite certain—kiss me!’
And he did.
25
Armistice
After her terrible experience in the marsh. Avril narrowly escaped a breakdown, but Nelson’s constant presence and the knowledge that he was free proved sufficient to stave it off.
Three nights later her doctor agreed that she was recovered enough to attend the Premiere of the Super Film that she had worked so desperately hard to finish, and before it Nelson dined quietly with her at her flat.
There were dark hollows still beneath her eyes, but her face was flushed with happiness as they sat together at the little table, and while they drank their coffee one of her hands slipped into Nelson’s firm clasp.
Only one shadow remained to mar the joy of his miraculous release: Issey Vandelstein’s ten-million-dollar loan was due for repayment at midday next day, and Nelson found by enquiries in the city that it would be utterly impossible to raise so enormous a sum on the projector at such short notice.
He had cabled Hollywood for a postponement, but the reply from the Mozart office had been definite:
‘Vandelstein still in sanatorium—not attending business—date of repayment must stand.’
For the tenth time they were discussing the situation.
‘After all,’ Avril argued. ‘Hinckman’s dead.’
‘Sure,’ he agreed.
Avril gave a little shudder. ‘It’s horrible, darling, to think of him choking and gasping in that relentless slime.’
‘I know, but he was right out among the reeds where the marsh turns to watery bog—must have tumbled slap into it, and gone under in a couple of minutes.’
‘Those minutes must have been ages, Nelson—still, he’s dead and the whole thing hinged on him. Surely the Combine will drop to pieces after tonight?’
‘I’m not so certain. Maybe there’s another big boy in the background somewhere, an’ anyhow there’s the rest of the bunch—Stillman, McTavish and the rest. They’ll not throw their hand in now—this thing’s gone too far.’
‘What do you think Vandelstein will do?’
‘He’ll sure close down on me. Then he’ll have control of Pacific Players and his own outfit. I’ll bet he’s fixed a price with the Combine already—they’d pay anything to get him in. They’ll have eight out of the big ten then an’ they’ll go to flotation right away. It’ll only be a matter of months before they have world control.’
‘Well, darling, at least we have the “Z”, we’ll make our own little pictures at Hatfield and take theatres to exhibit. They’ll be so different to the others that everybody will flock to see them—so we’ll be small, but independent—just like Star Artists.’
Nelson laughed as he reached out for her other hand.
‘Damn the old projector—I’ve sure got you, an’ that’s all that matters. Come on, let’s beat it to your masterpiece!’
The Rivoli was packed from floor to ceiling; the grand circle and the stalls crowded with celebrities. A Royal Prince would honour the production with his presence, and everyone was eager to see the first fruits of this new invention which, it was said, would revolutionise the whole film industry.
The clever Mr. Drefus was there, and Superintendent Marrofat resplendent in evening dress, but beyond these two and Avril, Nelson and Titchcock, no member of the gay and careless audience knew the grim history that lay behind the making of the film they were to see.
Avril was greeted on every side by a host of friends who had not seen her since her return from America. It was her first appearance in public since her uncle’s death, and she would not have been present had it not been such a very special occasion.
The great house darkened and the show began. A carefully selected comedy was put on the screen and then the news. The lights went up again while late-comers were shown to their seats, and the band struck up ‘God Save the King’. His Royal Highness had arrived.
Avril made her curtsey and Nelson was presented as the inventor of this new technique. The Prince graciously suggested that they should join his party, and Avril was seated on his right with Nelson on her other side. Then the big film began.
It was a success from the beginning. The new lenses had the effect of making the artists on the screen stand out with a clarity which the most expert photography had never been able to give before. It almost seemed that the actors had depth and body, so that their moving shadows came to life upon the screen. The only thing which could approach the new discovery for reality were those illusions which have been presented on a darkened stage by a complicated arrangement of mirrors; but here instead of lasting only for one silent moment, the film ran through all its scenes while the actors lived and talked.
Avril had played her part marvellously. It almost seemed as if the high tension to which she had been subjected during the whole production had served to give her new artistic force.
As she saw the result of her many hours’ hard work unrolled through the space of seventy minutes, she felt herself that she had created a masterpiece. Titchcock was beaming as he saw his greatest creation come to life. Nelson sat silent through it all—the amazing realism of the photography was no new thing to him, but he felt that he owed a very great debt to Avril and Titchcock who had enabled him to present his invention to the world in so perfect a production.
When at last the film was over the applause was loud and prolonged, there could be no possible doub
t about the verdict of the public. His Royal Highness was full of pleasant compliments and insisted that a private presentation should be given for their Majesties at an early date.
Immediately the Prince and his party had left the theatre Avril and Nelson were surrounded by their friends in the foyer—snowed under by congratulations on every side. Nelson was afraid that it would prove too much for Avril after her recent strain, and between handshakes he was trying to find a way for them to escape. Suddenly he gripped her arm.
‘What is it, sweet?’ she whispered.
‘Issey!—Issey Vandelstein! Here in London.’ Nelson pointed.
‘Darling, so it is!’
They looked towards the little Jew. He was standing quietly on the edge of the crowd evidently biding his time to get near them. He caught Nelson’s eye, and his gold teeth flashed in a grin of recognition. Nelson beckoned and Vandelstein edged towards them through the crush.
‘Good evenin’, Mister Druce.’ He extended a warm hand. ‘Ven the folks is gone Ai’ll be vatin’ for a vord afore you go.’
‘No time like the present, Issey—come right along.’ Nelson took Avril’s arm and they shouldered their way through the admiring throng towards the manager’s office.
Once inside Nelson smiled at Vandelstein. ‘Now, Issey, let’s hear you say your piece about the film. I’m mighty glad you chose London for a sanatorium—the straight stuff from a man like you is worth hearing.’
‘It was fine, Mister Druce—fine! Ven yer goin’ to start vorking der new projector in Hollywood, eh?’
‘That all depends,’ said Nelson cautiously.
‘Vell, if yer vantin’ any financial help. Mister Druce, vat’s the matter with Issey Vandelstein? Ai don’t vish yer no ill vill.’
‘I’ll say that’s real kind of you, Issey.’
‘ ’Taint kind—it’s business. Ain’t I got ten million dollars comin’ in ter-morrer—vhy vouldn’t Ai put it in a good thing ven I see one?’
Such Power is Dangerous Page 26