Dangerous Inheritance

by Dennis Wheatley

  There was nothing fresh in the radio bulletins that morning or evening. Somehow he got through the day, from time to time studying the map and calculating roughly how near the launch had got to its destination. Then when he came up from dinner he turned on the radio for the nine o’clock news in English and the blow fell.

  It was only a brief statement giving a report received by wireless from a Government gunboat. Information had reached Colonel d’Azavedo that Van Ryn’s father and a Mr. Aron had left Colombo in a sea-going launch early on Saturday morning. Suspecting that they intended to pick up the fugitives at a previously agreed place on the coast, Colonel d’Azavedo had shadowed the launch in the gunboat. His assumption had proved correct. The fugitives had been taken off from Elephant Point, a few miles north of the town of Kalkudah. They, and their rescuers, had then been arrested.

  ‘And I,’ thought the Duke, ‘am responsible for this. It was my egoism and vanity, my senseless pride in never having admitted defeat, that has brought grief and ruin to those I love. And here am I, aged and feeble, unable to lift a finger to help them.’ Sadly he went to bed.

  Yet that was still not the worst. When he opened his paper the following morning its banner headlines shouted at him:

  LALITA D’AZAVEDO DEAD: PRISONERS TO BE CHARGED WITH MURDER.

  23

  The Duke Plays His Last Great Hand

  De Richleau forced himself to read as much of the shattering story as had so far been released. After praising Lalita’s astuteness in trailing the launch, the account described how, at twenty past six the previous evening, Fleur and Truss had been taken off the point in a dinghy and the launch had then continued on its northerly course, presumably with the intention of landing them in India. Within half an hour the gunboat had overhauled its quarry, forced it to heave to and taken on board the two Van Ryns, Simon and Fleur. They had been locked in cabins and the gunboat had put about on the order of Lalita to head for Batticaloa. Two hours later the three men had broken out of their cabin, attacked Lalita and killed him. By ten o’clock the gunboat had reached Batticaloa, and the prisoners were being brought to Colombo by road.

  No mention at all was made of Douglas, which the Duke found puzzling; but he was so overwhelmed with distress at the fate that now awaited his friends that, for the moment, he gave it little thought. As soon as he had pulled himself together he telephoned the High Commissioner and Ambassador, and both gave him appointments for that morning.

  After hearing the nine o’clock news the previous evening he had handed in at the desk a cable to Richard, for despatch as soon as the telegraph office was open, which had said only: Situation deteriorated your presence required urgently, and he wondered how he could break the appalling news—which was so infinitely worse now than it had been then—to Fleur’s parents.

  Getting up, he rang for Max, dressed and sent for van Goens. The ex-Inspector could tell him no more than was in the papers, and had had no success in tracing Mirabelle’s murderer. Impatiently they waited for the news bulletin. It told them no more than had the papers, except for solving the mystery of there having been no mention of Douglas. The prisoners, it said, had stated that on the Friday night he had been savaged by a leopard in the jungle and had died the following day.

  When the time came de Richleau made his calls at the High Commission and Embassy. Both the High Commissioner and the Ambassador expressed their deep sympathy. The American said he would do his utmost for the Van Ryns and the Englishman promised to do his utmost for Fleur and Simon; but neither could offer the Duke much comfort.

  De Richleau then went to see Douglas’s father and found the poor man in tears. Having expressed his heartfelt contrition at having in part been responsible for Douglas’s death, the Duke asked him whether he was willing to undertake the defence of the others. The lawyer then said that he had always been very fond of Fleur and, that apart, it was his duty to do everything possible for her as his daughter-in-law. De Richleau instructed him to engage the best Counsel in Colombo, whatever the cost, and said that he would pay twenty thousand pounds to any barrister who could save his friends from being condemned to death.

  On returning to the Galle Face, he asked van Goens whether he could arrange for him to see the prisoners, but the ex-Inspector shook his head. ‘Not today, Your Grace. They can’t have left Batticaloa much before eleven o’clock last night. From there it is a long run and a tricky one, especially at night, as it means going right through the mountain country. They won’t have got in till this morning, and most of today will be taken up with interrogations. But I’ll try to arrange something for tomorrow.’

  There was nothing else the Duke could do so, really feeling his age for the first time, he mooned about in abject misery until the following afternoon. Van Goens then took him to the prison and introduced him to a Colonel Talawa of the Security Service, who had stepped into Lalita’s shoes and, happily, proved to be a very different type of man. He was courteous, helpful and, believing de Richleau to be the grandfather of the two younger prisoners, expressed his sympathy for him. But he said that he must be present at the interviews and the prisoners were brought one by one to a grille through which the Duke talked to them in turn.

  From them he learned the truth about what had happened. When Rex had sighted Lalita in the bows of the gunboat, he had ordered the launch to her maximum speed and endeavoured to get away. Then, as the gunboat was catching up with them, he had turned her in to the coast, hoping that they would be able to land and escape into the jungle. The crew of the launch had mutinied, and while he and Simon, with their pistols, were forcing them to keep the launch on her course, the gunboat had put a shot across her bows. There had then been no alternative but to surrender.

  On board the gunboat, after submitting to Lalita’s insults and his gloating over their capture, the three men had been locked into one cabin and Fleur into another, opposite. Fleur’s contribution to the story was that at about nine o’clock Lalita had come into her cabin, reminded her that she had refused his kisses during her first visit to Olenevka, taunted her with being a whore because he had found her in bed with Truss, then declared that now she was at his mercy he was going to take, with interest, the kisses she had denied him. He had then said that he had no time to waste, as in an hour they would dock at Batticaloa, and told her that if she did not take off her clothes he would tear them off. There had followed a struggle in which she had had the worst of it and, when near defeat, she had started to scream.

  The men told de Richleau that on hearing Fleur’s screams they had guessed what was happening and at once decided that they must go to her help. Rex, being much the most powerful of the three, had thrown himself at the door of their cabin and burst it open, but tumbled head foremost into the passage. Truss had jumped over him; so had been first in the other cabin where Fleur and Lalita, with him uppermost, were struggling on a lower bunk. Seizing Lalita, Truss had dragged him off, then broken his neck. Hearing the rumpus, Lalita’s men had arrived on the scene with guns in their hands, so to put up a further fight had been out of the question. Truss, Rex and Simon had been trussed like chickens for sale and thrown back into their own cabin where they had passed an hour in agony before being taken off the gunboat at Batticaloa.

  The Duke told each of them that everything conceivably possible was being done on their behalf and assured them with a confidence he was far from feeling that the true story of what had taken place was certain to be accepted. He then offered a handsome pourboire to Talawa, but the Colonel refused it with a smile and said he would ensure that the supply of good food and wine that de Richleau had brought with him should be enjoyed only by the prisoners.

  Next morning the Duke saw the High Commissioner, the Ambassador and Mr. Rajapakse again and gave them the true facts. All of them agreed that the killing of d’Azavedo had been morally justified, but shook their heads over the difficulty of proving it in the face of the evidence that would be brought by his men, who were certain to swear that
he was innocent, and the prejudice of an angry public imbued with anti-colonialism, who would howl for the blood of the white man who had killed him.

  De Richleau’s only hope now lay in van Goens tracing Mirabelle’s murderer and linking him with Lalita; but another black day passed without the ex-Inspector being able to produce even a clue that held hopeful possibilities.

  On the Wednesday morning the Duke had ordered Max to call him early. He would have given anything to postpone the awful task of having to tell Richard and Marie Lou that Fleur was in prison faced with a charge of having incited Truss, Rex and Simon to murder Lalita, but it was against his life-long principles to shirk his responsibilities. With the unfailing support of van Goens he was driven out to the airport to meet them.

  They met in the Customs shed and, while Marie Lou was having her luggage examined, he managed to get Richard aside. Leaning heavily on his malacca cane he told him first that Fleur was in prison, then with what she was charged. Richard took it well, and said:

  ‘I thought it must be something pretty grim for you to send for us; but not so grim as this.’

  When they had settled down in the car to return to Colombo, there was no evading Marie Lou’s anxious questions. Richard took her hand and told her the worst. Then de Richleau gave an outline of what had led to Fleur getting into such a terrible situation.

  While they were speaking Marie Lou stared straight ahead of her, dumb from shock and distress. Then before bursting into tears, she cried, ‘It will be all right! I know it will be all right! You’ll save her, Greyeyes. I know you will. You’ve never yet failed in anything you’ve undertaken.’

  Her futile confidence in him caused de Richleau to close his eyes in an agony of spirit, but he could not bring himself to disillusion her.

  When they reached the Galle Face, he gave them chapter and verse, then they went to lie down and attempt to rest after their long flight from England.

  In the afternoon he had arranged for them to visit Fleur and he accompanied them. Again Colonel Talawa showed them every consideration; but when Marie Lou got back to the hotel she went to bed prostrate with grief.

  That night the harrowed Duke, who seemed to have aged ten years in the past few days, came to the conclusion that he could no longer hope that van Goens stood much chance of bettering the prisoners’ case by producing evidence that Lalita had been responsible for Mirabelle’s murder; so if anything were to be done it lay with him to do it. For hour after hour he racked his wits then, at about two o’clock in the morning, he conceived the nucleus of a plan.

  When he got out of bed six hours later he was a different man. Once again he was going into action. The years had fallen from him and he was his old authoritative determined self. Sending for van Goens he told him to go out and buy several things and ask no questions. Three-quarters of an hour later the ex-Inspector returned with them. They were a woman’s wooden-backed hairbrush, a slab of what looked like kitchen soap about four inches square and two deep, a thing that looked like a ballpoint pencil, a coil of thin wire, a roll of cottonwool and a string shopping bag.

  Having cut the bristles off the hairbrush with a pair of scissors, the Duke inserted the pencil carefully into the slab so that only its pointed end showed, then bound the slab to the hairbrush with the wire, wrapped the whole contraption in the cottonwool, and put it carefully into the string carrier.

  Next he sent for the Captain of Rex’s aircraft, showed him the note of authority Rex had left with him and said, ‘I wish you to have your aeroplane ready by nine o’clock tomorrow morning to fly to London. The route we take I leave to you. It is quite possible that we may not be able to leave in her. But I am in hopes that we shall, so you must be fully prepared.’

  At first the Captain protested, on the grounds that Rex was in prison. But he could not ignore his master’s written order and, eventually, agreed.

  The Duke then affixed five seals with his signet ring to a piece of paper and had himself again driven to the American Embassy, asked for the jewels that Rex had deposited there, and was given them.

  Returning to the Galle Face he said to Max, ‘I wish you to pack all my things and be ready to leave at seven o’clock tomorrow morning. I shall not be with you because shortly I am going on a mission that none of my friends can undertake. But Mrs. Eaton will still be here and you are to take your orders from her.’ Then he laid his hand on the old valet’s shoulder and added:

  ‘I may not come back, Max. If not, don’t grieve for me. I thank you now for your many years of faithful service and you may rely on it that you are well taken care of in my will.’

  Tears sprang to Max’s eyes. ‘But you must come back, Your Grace! You must! I am many years younger than you, but without you I’d be lost and die too.’

  Tears then came to de Richleau’s eyes as he replied, ‘No, Max. You must live on and enjoy a happy old age. And, after all, you have known me to come through many dangers. Take heart. It may be the will of the Lords of Light that I should also survive this one.’

  Over lunch, to the amazement of Richard and Marie Lou he talked with his old animation of happy times that they had enjoyed together in the past, his yellow-flecked grey eyes were sparkling and his hands no longer trembled a little from age as he refilled their glasses with wine.

  Afterwards, upstairs in his sitting room, he said to them, ‘You, my beloved Marie Lou, are to remain here. I desire you to pack your things and Richard’s and be ready to leave with Max and van Goens at seven o’clock tomorrow morning for the airport. I hope that Richard and I will be able to join you there. The two of us are going on a mission. More than that, for the moment, I cannot say. But I think it most unlikely that any harm will come to him.’

  ‘But you!’ Marie Lou exclaimed. ‘Oh, Greyeyes, what are you about to do?’

  ‘Make a bid to better the situation of Fleur and the others. That is all I can tell you,’ he replied. ‘Now, Richard, put in a bag just the things you’ll want for a night and we’ll be off.’

  Knowing de Richleau so well, Marie Lou accepted what he said without further argument. Richard collected his things; ten minutes later she embraced them both fondly, and let them go.

  Outside the hotel, in accordance with an order de Richleau had given him that morning, van Goens was waiting with a car. To him the Duke said, ‘I may not see you again. If so, I thank you for your loyal service. I have already made arrangements with the elder Mr. Rajapkse that you will be well rewarded. There is only one thing more I wish you to do. Be here at seven o’clock tomorrow morning and drive Mrs. Eaton and my man, Max, to the airport.’

  Van Goens looked a little surprised but agreed without question to do as he was asked. The Duke shook hands with him then got into the car beside Richard, who had already taken the wheel. The car rolled away and, two minutes later, de Richleau told Richard that he wished him to take the road to Kandy.

  They arrived there in the early evening and had a meal at the Queen’s Hotel. After it, de Richleau said, ‘I want you to book yourself a room here, then drive me along to the Temple of the Tooth and drop me there. I expect to be away all night. If there is any sort of commotion, you are to drive straight back to Colombo. That is an order. It will be useless for you to come in search of me because I shall be dead. Is that clear?’

  Richard stared at him, then burst out, ‘God knows what you intend to do! But surely, surely, I can do something to help?’

  ‘No, my son. Nothing. I alone can handle this affair. All the Queen’s horses and all the Queen’s men could not aid me in it. You must do as I say, and no harm should come to you. If I fail it will be your job to return and stand by poor little Fleur and the others, and do your best to comfort our dear Marie Lou. But if things go well I shall send for you in the morning, perhaps even as early as four o’clock. But it may be midday before you hear from me.’

  Obediently, Richard made no further protest, but drove de Richleau along to the Temple and, after a long handclasp, left him there.
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  The Duke went in and sent up his card with the request that the High Priest would receive him. After only a short delay, he was taken to that dignitary’s sanctum. To de Richleau’s considerable relief he found the High Priest to be the same with whom he had had a long conversation over two years previously, was remembered by him and given a warm welcome.

  When they were seated the Duke said, ‘Serenity, I am in grave trouble. Would you be so gracious as to bear with me while I tell you of it?’

  ‘Certainly, my son,’ the High Priest replied courteously. ‘It is to receive such confidences that I hold my office. You will, I hope, permit me to call you “my son”; for I recall that in our previous conversation we found ourselves at one in certain fundamentals.’

  ‘Gladly, Father,’ replied the Duke. ‘We agreed that all true beliefs spring from the same root, and while I, too, am a Priest of Light in my own right, although a very humble one, you are my superior.’ He then launched into an account of the terrible consequences that had resulted from his claiming the Plackoff inheritance. When he had done, he said:

  ‘Now, Father, can you aid me to extract my friends from the terrible situation in which they are, mainly owing to my egoism, and only to a much lesser degree to their own impetuosity?’

  The High Priest shook his head. ‘I regret, my son, but that is not possible. Man-made Law and the Logos of Eternity are things apart. They must pay the physical penalty for their crime, and you must make restitution in your lives to come for having brought them to it.’

  De Richleau gave a heavy sigh then produced the flat case of jewels, unzipped it so that they glittered in the light and said, ‘At least, Father, I am in a position to make this offering to the Lord Buddha and ask his intervention on behalf of my poor friends.’