Island of Terror

by Sapper

  The car had pulled up at the door, and contrary to the usual custom the driver seemed to be trying to find out how much noise he could make with his engine. He accelerated in bursts, until Barnet swore angrily under his breath.

  “He’ll wake the whole damned neighbourhood – that fool of a chauffeur,” he muttered.

  But the chauffeur seemed quite oblivious of his unpopularity: at intervals he raced his engine with an ear-splitting roar – so ear-splitting in fact, that even the blind man’s supersensitive hearing was of no avail for any other sound, such as a man might make as he cautiously opened the window a little more and a little more each time. And with the final, full-throttled burst Jim Maitland, who had been reconnoitring the house for the last twenty minutes, found himself with only a blind barring his way to the room. Then silence fell, broken only by Waterlow’s voice.

  “Really, Miss Draycott, your chauffeur might remember that this is a nursing home.”

  “So sorry, Doctor Phillips,” came her apologetic reply, “but the car is not going very well. That’s why I’m so late. How is Arthur?”

  A look of relief spread over Barnet’s face: evidently she suspected nothing.

  “Better now, Miss Draycott. He was very worried and upset this morning after you left but I succeeded in pacifying him. I trust there is no mistake this time, and that you have brought it with you.”

  “Of course, Doctor, and I shall never forgive myself for being so stupid this morning.”

  Their voices died away as they mounted the stairs, and the dwarf smiled easily.

  “It marches well, Monty,” he said. “She would appear to be eating out of our hands. Now get that sailor in.”

  The blind stirred slightly as the door opened – a natural phenomenon in the faint night breeze – and Jim Maitland’s keen eye took in every detail of the room. From above him came the sound of the girl’s voice: evidently the interview with the supposed brother had commenced.

  He drew back a little as Barnet returned, accompanied by Robinson, though he could still see the whole of the room.

  “Now, Mr Robinson,” said the blind man, “we shan’t detain you much longer. May I take it that you would recognise a map of the island if you saw one?”

  “Well, I ain’t much of a hand at maps, gentlemen, but I’ll ’ave a shot at it.”

  “No one can do more,” said Dresler genially as the door opened and Waterlow came in.

  “Here it is,” he said hurriedly. “And get a move on. She knows all about everything, and wants to see the other half.”

  “Does she suspect about her brother?” asked the dwarf.

  “Doesn’t seem to. She’s chatting away quite cheerfully.”

  “Right. Go back. And the sooner you get her away the better. Now, Mr Robinson,” he continued, as the door closed, “perhaps you would have a look.”

  “We’ve got it, Emil,” said Barnet triumphantly. “The two pieces fit perfectly. Now is that the island?”

  He laid them on the table, and the sailor bent over them.

  “Aye,” he said, “that looks like the place. Ancorage: that’s right. That’s where we lay: south of the island. And all the eastern part is swampy. Crocks – why, that river is full of them, and other things too.”

  “Good!” cried Barnet, rapidly adjusting a piece of tracing paper. “Emil – we’ve got the map complete except for that torn-off bit in the bottom left-hand corner.”

  “Does it give the location of what we want?” asked the dwarf.

  “Yes,” said the other laconically. “I’ll work that out later.”

  For a moment Jim hesitated. To knock out Barnet and snatch the map would be easy – a matter of seconds. But he would certainly be recognised, and – what was even more important – Judy Draycott was not yet safely away. He craned forward trying to see, but the baronet’s back was between him and the map. And he was on the point of chancing it when once more Waterlow came in.

  “She’s getting suspicious,” he said hurriedly. “Wants to see the other bit. Is it safe?”

  “Yes,” answered the dwarf quietly. “It’s the lesser of two evils. Well, Mr Robinson, I don’t think we need detain you any more. Good night, and I’m much obliged to you. Waterlow – show him out. Now, Monty,” he went on as the door closed, “have you got that tracing finished?”

  “Just finished now,” said the other.

  “And you have a copy of our half? Good. Put the tracing in your pocket, and we’ll have the girl in. You’re another doctor, don’t forget. And don’t get near her: you reek of whisky even at this range.”

  There was the sound of voices coming clown the stairs, then Judy came in followed by Waterlow.

  “Here is Miss Draycott, Professor,” he announced.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Draycott,” said the dwarf courteously. “May I introduce my other colleague, Doctor Arbuthnot.”

  Barnet bowed.

  “Your brother is, I think, as well as can be expected under the circumstances,” went on Dresler. “It is indeed fortunate that the accident should have taken place so close to my nursing home.”

  “Very fortunate indeed,” said the girl, quietly. “And I am most grateful to you for all your kindness.”

  “My dear young lady” – the dwarf lifted a deprecating hand – “that is what we are here for. And now that you have brought him the other half of his map, his mind will be at rest.”

  “Is that it on the table?” she asked innocently. “What is it all about?”

  She crossed over and looked at it.

  “It all seems nonsense to me.”

  “I fear you’re quite right,” said the dwarf. “It is nonsense. But so long as he is in his present state he must be humoured.”

  “He keeps on talking about hidden treasure,” she went on. “Where is this supposed to be?”

  “I’ve got no idea,” said the dwarf. “He tells me he got it from some sailor in South America. And I fear if the truth be known that it is like so many sailor’s stories – complete imagination.”

  “You don’t think this is a real island?” she asked.

  “Frankly, Miss Draycott, I do not. And even if it is I’m afraid the chances of there being any treasure on it are remote. Other people would have heard of it long ago, and removed it.”

  “I suppose so,” she said a little sadly. “And the poor boy does seem so keen about it too. However, I have promised him to do all I can, so I suppose I must. But it seems rather a waste of time.”

  “What are you doing, Miss Draycott?” cried Barnet, and Jim began to shake with silent laughter. For the girl was calmly folding up both parts of the map and putting them in her bag.

  “He’s just asked me to find out anything I could for him about it in London,” she explained, and Jim shook still more. “When you were out of the room, Doctor Phillips. He seemed so keen that I don’t like to disappoint him. So I’ll just pretend.”

  Barnet and Waterlow were staring at her in perplexity: their dilemma was clear to the delighted witness outside the window. They both knew that the girl was lying. But they couldn’t say so, without giving themselves away. And it was the dwarf who took charge of the situation.

  “Quite right, Miss Draycott,” he said calmly. “Do anything that will keep his mind at rest. Humour him in every way. And when shall we be seeing you again?”

  “Tomorrow, I think, or perhaps the next day,” she answered, rising to her feet. “Good night, Professor. Thank you again for all you’ve done for Arthur.”

  “It is a pleasure, my dear young lady. Good night.”

  “Well, I’m damned,” said Barnet, as the door closed. “Why did you let her get away with it, Emil?”

  “At times, my friend, I despair of your brain. What else was there to do?”

  “But don’t you see,” fumed the other, “that it is proof positive that she suspects. Johnston never said that to her: she was lying.”

  From outside came the noise of a self-starter – a
splutter, a roar – and as the car swung down the drive Waterlow re-entered.

  “The fact had not escaped me,” said the dwarf languidly. “Though there is a bare possibility that she herself suggested it to Johnston, and he perforce had to agree.”

  “That is soon settled,” cried Waterlow going into the hall. “Johnston – come down here.”

  A man of about thirty entered mopping his face.

  “Those cursed bandages are the limit on a hot night,” he remarked.

  “Did that girl make any remark to you about taking the map up to London with her?” said the dwarf.

  “Yes. Seemed dead set on it. I didn’t know what to say so I left it vague.”

  “Do you think she suspected you?”

  “Didn’t seem to. She called me Arthur and patted my hands.”

  “You see, Monty,” said the dwarf quietly, “it was far better to let her take them. What harm can she do? What is the good of that map to anyone unless they know where the island is? And what chance has she got of finding anyone who would be able to tell her? Unless…”

  He broke off, and sat brooding.

  “Unless what?”

  “For the moment I thought of Maitland,” remarked the dwarf.

  “I wish we’d done the damned fellow in that night,” said Barnet savagely. “He knows every inch of South America.”

  “Hardly that, my dear Monty, though I admit I should feel happier if he was out of the way. And you must remember two things. One – we don’t know that he knows the girl: and two – even if he does, it is very improbable that he knows where the island is. Still, I admit Maitland is a distinct problem, and one that we may have to solve. However, that can wait. The immediate thing is to clear out of here at once. Order my car round, Johnston, and shut this place up. I fear if the lady comes here again she will have a slight shock.”

  Noiselessly Jim backed away from the window, and keeping on the grass he went down the drive at a steady lope. There was nothing further to be learned, and things had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations, entirely owing to the girl. He had complete faith in his ability to spot where the island was: there were many old pals of his down in Dockland who knew the coast of South America as they did the palms of their hands.

  And then suddenly out of the darkness there loomed an immediate solution to the problem – to wit, Mr Robinson stumping along the road. He could give him the information he needed, but speed was imperative since at any moment the dwarf’s car might be on them. Percy was waiting for him a little way ahead, but he wanted no chance of being overtaken.

  “Good evening, Mr Robinson,” he said as he came abreast.

  “’oo the ’ell are you?” was the uncompromising answer.

  “Someone who is proposing to give you a fiver if you’ll run,” said Jim with a laugh.

  A stationary red light had just come in sight in front of them.

  “Run as far as that light with me, Robinson, and I’ll give you a lift to London as well, in exchange for a little information,” continued Jim.

  “Gaw lumme! Fivers seem easy tonight.”

  He pounded along beside Jim, until they reached the car.

  “My friend, Mr Robinson,” cried Jim, “who is coming back to Town with us. Hop in in front, my lad, and Percy, tread on the juice.”

  He sank down beside the girl in the back seat, and as the car gathered speed he could just see the exquisite profile so close to him.

  “Well done,” he said quietly. “Well done, indeed.”

  She made no reply; and merely stared in front of her.

  “Miss Draycott! Judy! what’s the matter?” he asked gently. “A penny.”

  She gave a little sigh that was half a sob.

  “It’s Arthur,” she said. “I’ve had time to think; that’s all.”

  And now the tears were coming unchecked.

  “Killed by those brutes the very day he returned. It’s wicked. I want them to be punished; I want someone hanged.”

  A sudden feeling of guilt assailed him: he had actually forgotten all about her brother.

  “Listen, Judy,” he said gravely, “while I say my little bit. I know exactly how you’re feeling: it’s only natural. And perhaps I was wrong in not calling in the police at once. But I happen to be one of those blokes that don’t instinctively go for the police if anything happens: I suppose I’ve lived too much in places where there aren’t any to go for. And it was the extraordinary coincidence of the whole thing that struck me, coming as it did just after I’d left you. The dago, your story about the treasure, everything combined to make me hesitate. And then, as you know, I was outed and it was too late. But what I’m getting at is that now I am glad I acted as I did. Honestly I believe that there is something in this yarn, and the best way of revenging your brother’s death is to do those swine down.”

  The girl did not answer, and gradually her tears ceased. And then somehow it came about that her left hand fell off her lap and encountered Jim’s right. Which, of course, was purely accidental, and may be treated as an irrelevant and extraneous detail. Almost as irrelevant in fact as three remarks which were made five minutes later.

  “Percy, you blighter, this isn’t Brooklands. Ease up, confound you.”

  And the voice was male.

  “Ever so much slower, Percy dear. I’m being blown to bits.”

  And the voice was female.

  “Thank Gawd for that, guv’nor.”

  And the voice was that of a man in whom some faint hope of life had been rekindled. Mr Robinson’s idea of speed did not coincide with Percy’s.

  It was past eleven when they drew up finally outside Jim’s flat.

  “But why the dickens did you want me to go slower, after telling me to tread on the juice?” demanded Percy indignantly.

  “One is so much more exposed to things in the back seat, Percy dear,” said the girl. “But you drove very nicely.”

  “Why, we’ve taken as long to get up as we did going down counting in the twenty minutes we waited while Jim went ahead. Rotten.”

  “Push inside, and don’t talk so much,” remarked Jim. “As an ornament to the doorstep I’d prefer a gargoyle. I expect you could do with a drink, Robinson.”

  “Well, sir, I don’t mind if I do,” agreed the sailor. “Them machines seem to make one thirsty like.”

  Jim smiled, and led the way. And as a hardened bachelor he noted with a certain misgiving that installing Judy in his best chair was a very pleasant occupation. Not, of course, that there would ever be anything in it: he had merely held her hand in a comforting, fraternal way. Still – a very pretty girl: very pretty indeed.

  “Now, Robinson,” he said when they were all settled, “I’d be glad if you’d tell me one or two things. First of all how did you get mixed up in that bunch?”

  “That’s easy, sir. I was lodging down in Mother Shipwell’s – she takes in us seafaring men chiefly – when a bloke shoves ’is ’ead round the door at dinner-time today and sings out: ‘’Oo knows South America well?’ I says I do. ’E h’asks me a few questions, and then says: ‘Would you like to earn a fiver?’ I says: ‘Stop kidding.’ ’E says: ‘It’s strite.’ All I ’ad to do was to go and see some guys in the country that wanted h’information. That’s how it ’appened, sir.”

  “Good,” said Jim, “that’s clear. Now, from what I heard this evening, you were talking about some island.”

  “That’s right, sir. The first thing that little terror of a dwarf asked me was if I knew Lone Tree Island.”

  “That was before I got there,” said Jim. “And you did know this island?”

  “There h’ain’t many men, sir, ’oove been in the coastal trade there ’oo don’t,” answered the sailor. “I knows it all right, as I told them guys down there. Knows it so well, as I says to ’em, that I wouldn’t spend a night on it for a ’undred quid.”

  “But why the deuce not?” cried Percy, staring at him. “I mean, I’d spend a night in a temperance hotel for
that.”

  “Look ’ere, sir,” said the sailor to Jim. “A lot of you gentlemen – and you too, miss – seems h’interested in Lone Tree Island. Now I’m only an h’uneducated man, and maybe you don’t pay much count to what I says. But there’s a man just ’ome from the West H’Indies ’olding a master’s ticket ’oo knows more’n I do about the place. ’E’s lodging not far from Mother Shipwell’s – Cap’n Blackett…’

  “Wait a minute,” cried Jim. “Big man with a hook nose, and blue eyes, who used to have an old tramp called the Indus?”

  “That’s the man, sir. Do you know ’im?”

  “Know Bill Blackett? I should think I do!”

  “Well, sir, he’ll tell you h’everything, better’n than I can.”

  Jim put his hand in his pocket.

  “Here’s some money, Robinson. Get in a taxi, and go and see Captain Blackett. Tell him Jim Maitland wants him, and bring him back with you tonight. And if his memory wants jogging, just say – ‘The Union Bar, Pernambuco!’”

  “Aye, aye, sir. If ’e’s there, I’ll bring ’im. Evening, mum: evening, gentlemen.”

  They heard the front door slam, and Jim, his eyes gleaming with excitement, began pacing up and down the room.

  “Bill Blackett! A damned good man. We’ll get the truth from him, my children, if we can get it from anyone.”

  And suddenly Judy Draycott understood the reason of Percy’s hero worship. Just as a hunter quivers and fidgets at the sound of hounds, so was this man at the thought of adventure. And a little ruefully she realised that in all probability he had completely forgotten that he held her hand in the car.

  “A pity that I sent the other half to my lawyers,” he went on. “Still, it was safer, I suppose. And we can get to the maps later, after we’ve heard what Bill has to say.”

  He came with Robinson an hour later.

  “By Jove! Mr Maitland,” he said as he shook hands, “you are the only man in London who could have got me out of bed at this hour.”

  “Good for you, Bill,” cried Jim, and introduced him to the other two. “Take that chair, and you’ll find the necessary beside you. I want some information out of you.”