by Sapper
“God! man,” he muttered savagely, “you’re breaking my elbow.”
“No: merely bending it,” Jim assured him. “And since you are in this position, I think I will call that policeman who has just entered the square… Officer,” he hailed.
But the other man was not waiting for any policeman. With a tremendous effort he wriggled free, and ran back to his car which at once drove rapidly away. And Jim was again laughing silently when the majesty of the law approached.
“Did you call, sir?” he said.
“A mistake, officer,” he remarked. “My friend who has just left me wanted to know the way somewhere, but I think he’s found it.”
“Drove off pretty fast, sir.”
“Yes,” agreed Jim. “He did seem in a bit of a hurry, didn’t he? Well, good morning, officer. Sorry to have troubled you.”
“Where to, sir?” asked the driver, as the policeman moved on.
“Go to Hyman’s in Little Portland Street,” he answered. “It’s a big paper shop.”
“Ugly sort of customer that, sir,” went on the driver with a grin.
“A damned fool,” said Jim tersely. “I’ve seen some pretty inefficient efforts at following in my life, but that took the cake. Keep your eyes skinned in case we see them again, but I don’t think we shall.”
Which proved to be correct: there was no sign of the other car when he paid off his own. Nevertheless he proposed to take no chances, and when one of the assistants asked him what he required he insisted on going to a remote corner of the shop.
“Sorry to appear mysterious,” he said with a smile, “but there’s a bit of a jest on. And I don’t want to be spotted.”
He produced the map from his pocket-book. “I want to know,” he went on, “if you can match this paper exactly. Very nearly is no good. The likeness must be so good that when the two halves are side by side anyone looking at them would say they were originally the same bit that had been cut in two.”
The assistant took it in his hand and examined it minutely.
“There oughtn’t to be much difficulty in that, sir,” he pronounced at length. “I’ll get a book of samples.”
They found what was wanted almost at once – a paper that was literally identical with the original, and Jim ordered half a dozen pieces. Then he started to stroll back towards his club. So far, so good: unfortunately it was not very far. The main part of the problem had still to be solved. To draw a faked substitute was now an easy matter, but how was he going to utilise it to the best advantage when he had done so?
If it could possibly be avoided he did not want the other side to find out that he knew anything about the map. At the same time his whole scheme depended on the fact that the other half of the map should be seen. It was useless merely getting the fake to them by some method: that would give only a negative result to each side. He turned it over from every angle and at length the only possible way out occurred to him. It might fail, but he would have to take the risk. Judy Draycott was the person who must do it.
Whether Dresler and his bunch knew that half had been sent to her or not didn’t matter. It would arouse no suspicions in their minds when they found she had it in her possession. And so, somehow or other, she would have to contrive to see the other piece for long enough to memorise it roughly. Presumably it would be as simple and crude as the half he had, and given a minute or so to study it in, she should be able to reproduce it sufficiently accurately for them to have something to go on.
One weak point lay in the fact that they might not let her see the other part. Another was the difficulty of her approaching them, so to speak, out of the blue. Why should she know anything about them at all? He did not even know if she and Barnet were acquaintances. Still those were minor difficulties: he was satisfied that the main idea was right. Judy Draycott was the only person who could do it, without giving things away. And if she did pull it off, and obtained a reasonable mental picture of the other half they would be in the pleasant position of having the truth, whilst the opponents possessed the map of an island, a large portion of which was completely imaginary. At which point in his reflections he turned into his club to find his cousin waiting for him with a worried look on his face.
“She’s gone, Jim,” he said briefly.
“Come on into the smoking-room,” remarked Jim. “Now, then,” he continued, after they had found two chairs, “what’s this? You say she’s gone. Where to?”
“Can’t tell you, old lad,” answered the other. “The house belongs to an ancient gorgon – Lady Somebody or other, with whom Judy is staying. Well, I blew in and asked for the girl, but the butler pushed me into the presence of the most devastating old ruin you’ve ever imagined. Shook me badly, laddie, I don’t mind admitting.”
“‘Are you Mr Maitland?’ she boomed.
“I admitted the soft impeachment, and she inspected me through lorgnettes.
“‘I confess I do not understand present-day mentality,’ she went on, ‘but Judy’s brain must have left her temporarily. She said you were very good-looking and had a magnificent figure.’
“Well, I thought she might have put it a little differently, but the family spirit pulled me through.
“‘That’s where you scratch the wrong bite,’ I said breezily. ‘She alluded to my cousin who, I have been told, does bear a slight resemblance to me. He belongs to one of the cadet branches of our family.’”
“You blithering idiot,” Jim grinned. “Get on with it.”
“Apparently I’d said the wrong thing,” continued Percy. “She sat there for quite a while with her mouth opening and shutting, and no noise occurred. I thought she’d slipped her uppers and was wondering what the devil to do if they zoomed into the hearth-rug, when she suddenly gave a harsh, croaking sound which turned after a while into semi-articulate speech.
“‘Scratch! Wrong bite! You wretched young man – how dare you?’
“Well, I managed to pacify her: assured her it was a bit of modern slang, and at length, thank God! her breathing became normal again, and the deep magenta look left her face.
“‘Now,’ I said chattily, ‘what about our little Judy? We both, I expect, have to do this and that before worrying the midday bone.’
“And little by little I extracted the account of the morning’s doings. It appears Judy was giving the once over to the matutinal kipper by herself in the dining-room, when a woman called to see her. She couldn’t tell me what sort of a woman as she herself does not shatter the morale of the house by appearing at breakfast. At any rate this woman had brought Judy a message from her brother.”
“What’s that?” cried Jim sitting up. “Her brother?”
“Just how I felt, old lad, when she said it,” remarked Percy.
“You didn’t give anything away, did you?”
“My face remained completely sphinx-like,” said his cousin. “To continue. The result of the message was that Judy departed with this female, leaving a message for you to the effect that your proposed party at noon would have to be off.”
“Did she say where she was going?” demanded Jim.
“Apparently not. At any rate not to the old trout. And I didn’t quite like to ask to see her maid.”
“And she said nothing as to when she intended to return?”
“Not a word. So having bowed to the Presence I left the house.”
He lit a cigarette, and gave an order to a passing waiter for the necessary.
“So bringing the grey matter to work, Jim,” he continued, “one thing becomes obvious. Either you made a mistake, or it is a trap.”
“Exactly,” agreed his cousin. “And since I did not make a mistake…”
He left the sentence uncompleted: how would this development affect his plan? That they contemplated doing any harm to the girl he dismissed from his mind: no possible object could be served by hurting her. Their object clearly was to get possession of her half of the map, and it therefore proved that they knew she had it. It
further proved that they did not know she had sent it to him. But how long would they remain in ignorance of that fact? How long would it be before she told them?
He frowned thoughtfully: another point had struck him. What were they going to do about the brother? The girl having been lured away by what she took to be a message from him would naturally expect to see him. Moreover, she would become very suspicious if she did not. And as they could not show her his dead body with a bullet hole through the heart it became a little difficult to see what they were going to do.
He crossed to one of the writing-tables: the sooner he prepared the faked map the better. Things might eventuate at any moment, and he wanted to be prepared. For a while he again studied the map carefully: then he took one of the sheets of paper he had bought and picked up an indelible pencil.
“That ought to do the trick,” he muttered to himself ten minutes later. He put the genuine one in an envelope, and sent it with a covering letter to his lawyer: the fake he put in his pocket-book. Then picking up an illustrated paper he threw himself into an armchair. There was nothing he could do but wait.
Just before lunch Percy returned from what he described as a cocktail date with a hen, and demanded the latest bulletin.
“That’s deuced bright of you, Jim,” said his cousin admiringly when he had explained his idea. “But now that Judy has actually gone to them it’s going to make things a bit harder.”
“You’re right,” agreed Jim. “We can only wait and see what happens. And since they haven’t got what they wanted, something is bound to happen soon. She may tell ’em she sent the map to me: she may not. And until we know that, we’re left guessing.”
“They won’t do her any harm, will they?”
“No,” said Jim positively. “They’ll guard her as the apple of their eye until they get the map and before they do that we step into the picture.”
They lunched, and then began an interminable afternoon. Jim did not dare to get out of reach of the telephone: Percy refused to run any risk of missing the fun. And so, sternly dismissing from their minds the fact that Patsy Hendren had been sixty not out at the luncheon interval, they dozed.
The message came through just after five o’clock. A page roused them from their slumbers: Mr Maitland was wanted on the telephone.
“You go, Percy,” said Jim. “If it is Miss Draycott find out where she is speaking from. If it sounds at all risky do the silly ass stunt. But if she is in London get her round to the ladies’ side here, the same as we arranged for lunch.”
“Right ho! laddie,” cried the other. “You leave it to me.”
He came back almost immediately.
“Speaking from Langham Square,” he said. “She’s coming at once. And, Jim, unless I’m much mistaken, there have been doings. Her voice was rather like that of an agitated hen.”
“Good!” cried Jim. “The sooner we get to it the better.”
“Do you want me to attend the pow-wow?” asked his cousin.
Jim nodded.
“But say nothing, at any rate at present, about her brother!”
Judy Draycott was as good as her word: she came at once. And it struck Jim as he shook hands that she was even more attractive than he had thought at first. But there was a look of tense anxiety about her that brought him back to business at once.
“What is the trouble, Miss Draycott?” he said as they sat down.
“Mr Maitland,” she answered earnestly, “there’s some devilry going on. I’m just worried to death.”
“I don’t expect it’s quite as bad as that,” he said with a smile.
“Young Percy and I have been having a lot of fun over your affairs too.”
“What do you mean?” she said in amazement.
“You shall hear in good time, Miss Draycott,” he answered. “Let’s get to your doings first. All that we know is that a female of sorts called on you at breakfast this morning, bringing a message from your brother, and you went away with her.”
“She had a car waiting outside,” began the girl – “and I got in without hesitation. All that she had said in the house was that Arthur wanted me to come, and to bring with me the letter he had sent to my bank. That, of course, I couldn’t do without coming round and getting it from you.”
“Which you’d have had considerable difficulty in doing,” put in Jim quietly. “Did you mention you’d sent it to me?”
“I did not. And really I can’t think why I didn’t – then. Because at the time I had no suspicions. I did think it a little strange that Arthur should have sent a woman as a messenger, but I was so keen to see him that I didn’t bother about it much. I just dashed upstairs, told my aunt, and started off. It was a closed car, and a chauffeur in livery was driving. And after a while it began to strike me that my companion was very uncommunicative. Every question I put to her she answered in monosyllables. So at last I tackled her point blank.
“‘Is there anything the matter with my brother?’
“She tried to evade it for a bit, but I insisted. And to my horror I found he had been involved in a bad accident.”
The eyes of the two men met, but the girl was too intent on her story to notice.
“He was in a nursing home, and his eyes had been affected. It was a motor accident, and his face had been badly cut about.
“‘Who is looking after him?’ I demanded.
“A Doctor Phillips, she told me, was in charge. I asked where the house was. It was on the outskirts of Mayfield in Sussex.
“‘But what on earth was he doing motoring down there,’ I cried in amazement, and she shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea why he had been there: all she could tell me was that the crash had occurred about half a mile from their lodge gates and some workmen had carried him in.
“We arrived at half-past eleven, and when I saw the house my heart sank. It was the most gloomy, depressing spot: anything less suited for a nursing home it would be impossible to imagine. And I think it was as we drove up to the door that suspicion first started in my mind. I caught the woman’s eyes fixed on me, and though she immediately glanced away, there had been a funny look in them. And it was then, as I say, that I first began to wonder if all was well.
“The door was opened by a manservant, and as I stepped into the hall suspicion increased. The place was furnished after a fashion but there was a sort of musty smell about everything that you only get in a house that has been empty for some time. However, I said nothing, of course, and a moment later a man came down the stairs.
“‘This is Doctor Phillips,’ said my companion.
“He shook hands, and led the way into one of the downstair rooms.
“‘An unfortunate homecoming for your brother!’ he said. ‘Our matron has told you, I suppose?’
“‘She tells me that Arthur has been badly damaged in a motor accident,’ I answered. ‘And I should like to see him at once, please.’
“He held up his hand.
“‘One moment, my dear young lady,’ he remarked – and if there’s one thing that drives me to drink it’s being called that – ‘we must have a little chat first. To begin with, your brother is in a very excitable condition just at present – a condition which in view of the injuries to his face and eyes…’
“‘Eyes!’ I cried.
“‘Didn’t the matron mention that? Yes: I am sorry to say his eyes are involved. It is for that reason that we are keeping him in a dark room. But do not alarm yourself. With care and good nursing I feel confident he will retain his sight unimpaired, if – and this is very important, if – we can keep him calm. Any mental excitement is the worst possible thing for him. Now I naturally have no idea what he is talking about, but the very first moment he began to speak coherently last night he kept asking about some letter he had sent you. He must have it: he must have it at once. In vain for me to point out to the dear fellow that he couldn’t read it: that it was safe with you until he had recovered. It was no use. And so I entrusted the matron when
she came to get you to be sure and mention it, so that you could bring it. It will pacify him enormously. You have it, of course?’
“And it was then, Mr Maitland, I did some pretty rapid thinking. I was as convinced as I could be that there was something wrong. I knew that house was no nursing home, and I felt pretty well certain the man talking to me was no doctor. He was too suave and oily. Besides, genuine doctors don’t allude to a complete stranger as a dear fellow. But what was I to do? I hadn’t got it, and what was going to be the result when I told him so? I was convinced that it was the letter this man was after, and if he found out it wasn’t there, he would pull more of his medical jargon out, tell me it would excite Arthur too much if I saw him without the letter, and insist that I should go back to London and get it before I could visit him. And I was determined that that should not happen. I was determined that by hook or by crook I would talk to Arthur before I left the house.
“It’s taken a long time to describe what I felt: it actually took a second to decide.
“‘Naturally,’ I said. ‘I’ll hand it to him myself.’”
“Well done,” remarked Jim quietly. “How did he take that?”
“Not very enthusiastically,” she answered, “which merely increased my determination to see Arthur. But short of snatching my bag from me by force he could do nothing, and at last with a very bad grace he rose and left the room mumbling about seeing if Arthur was ready.
“The instant the door was shut I flew to it and listened: he and the woman were having an argument in the hall outside. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it sounded distinctly acrimonious. And again my suspicions increased: I knew the show was crooked.
“The man came back in about five minutes, accompanied this time by the woman. He seemed to have recovered himself, and his smile was more oily than ever.
“‘This way, my dear young lady,’ he said. ‘And you will remember, won’t you, that you may find your brother a little strange. The vocal chords – everything has been affected.’