“Flash it in the sun,” he said, clapping the glasses to his eyes. “If she sees it, she’ll understand.”
The silver was bright as a mirror, and, while Mansel watched her, I twitched the case to and fro.
At last—
“She’s seen it,” he said. “Now flash it six times, and cover it up with your hand between each flash.”
I did so.
“Now flash it once more,” said Mansel “And then cover up.”
I did as he said.
After what seemed a long time—
“Flash it again,” said he.
I did so; and, after a little, he told me to pocket the watch.
At last he put down his glasses and wiped the sweat from his face.
“She saw the signals,” he said. “She raised her hand. When you had acknowledged her gesture, she turned away. She’s—very wise.”
“Has she gone?”
He nodded.
“She went up the staircase into the left-hand tower. And, after a moment, she showed some white at that window, half-way up. When you acknowledged that, she took it away. She’s very wise—Adèle.”
That was a true saying; only the quickest wit and the steadiest brain would ever have done so well. I think her heart must have leapt, but she took no needless risk. One wave of her hand, and then—straight to her quarters to show us where she was lodged. And that was all. She had no more to tell us, and the game was a dangerous one. The sooner it was done, the better for all concerned.
And here for the first time I saw how well and truly she and Mansel were matched. They were made of the same fine substance, a little higher than their fellows, and could speak a common language which others did not know. And, as Mansel and I lay there, on the edge of the great gulf fixed between us and Gath, I remember wondering whether, could she have done so, Adèle would have kept such letters as she had received from him.
At sundown we joined the others at the cross roads, and within the hour we sat down to supper at Lass.
When they had eaten, Carson and Rowley left for Poganec, taking a note with them.
This was brief, for Mansel was a man of few words.
September 6th
10 p.m.
I know where Adèle is confined and saw her to-day from a distance. She seemed to be well. I am glad to say that I managed to attract her attention, and she now knows that help is at hand. I have reason to think that she is comfortably lodged. If need be, I can be found at the Three Kings Hotel, Lass. Please destroy this note and communicate its contents to no one but Daphne and Berry alone.
5. Mansel Takes off the Gloves
At ten o’clock the next morning Mansel, Carson and I visited the Castle of Gath.
From first to last this visit had been closely rehearsed, so that even a spy in the wood would not, I think, have suspected that we were play-acting.
Indeed, the play began some miles away, for we first seemed to notice the drive, as we were returning to the cross roads after a thirty-mile run. After due hesitation we determined to see whither it led . . . .
At the sight of the Castle we stopped, as anyone would have done, and were plainly uncertain whether or no to proceed; but, after a little discussion, I drove the car down the spur and drew up before the gateway in a perfectly natural way. Then Carson opened a door, and Mansel got out.
When he had rung, he stood waiting, with a hand on the great stone jamb, while Carson, with his hands behind him stood leaning against a wing, and I pulled out tobacco and started to fill a pipe.
I shall never forget those moments or how hard it was to keep cool. Eyes were upon us, watching each breath we drew; it was likely that we were covered and certain that we were at the mercy of those we were seeking to dupe. What was about to happen, no one could tell. For once Rose Noble was dealing, and, whatever the cards he dealt us, with those we should have to play.
The day was very fine, and a gentle breeze was blowing across the spur; except for the whisper of the engine, there was no sound; and I remember thinking how gay the greenwood looked in the brave sunshine and how black the clean-cut shadow which the battlements threw upon the turf.
After a little, Mansel rang again.
For an age we waited; then I heard a step on the pavement and the click of a lock. Then two bolts were drawn, the wicket swung open, and a woman put out her head.
“Good-day,” said Mansel, using German. “What’s the name of this place?”
“The Castle of Gath, sir.”
“Who lives here?”
“No one, sir. My husband and I are the caretakers.”
“D’you know if it’s for sale?”
The woman shook her head.
“It’s not for sale, sir.”
“Which is the castle hereabouts which is for sale?”
“I have no idea, sir.”
“Well, there’s one somewhere,” said Mansel, “not very far from here. It belongs to an English lady, who’s out of her mind. She drives about in a car without any hat, and she has male nurses with her wherever she goes. Surely you’ve heard her spoken of?”
“No, sir,” said the woman, evenly.
“A big, closed car, painted grey. Sometimes the nurses use it when she is ill.”
The woman shook her head.
“You surprise me,” said Mansel. “It’s common talk down in Lass.”
The woman shrugged her shoulders.
“In Lass, perhaps, but we are so isolated here.”
“I wonder if your husband could help me.”
“I fear he is out, sir. But I do not think he would know.”
“Which way has he gone?” said Mansel.
The woman mentioned a hamlet four miles away.
“Perhaps I shall meet him,” said Mansel. “But ask him about this grey car when he comes in.”
“I will, sir.”
“And the castle, or house, somewhere round about here. And, if he thinks he can help me, send him to The Three Kings at Lass.”
“I will, sir.”
Mansel gave her money and returned to the car.
“Nothing doing,” he said shortly. “I was afraid it was useless. Too much off the beaten track.”
As he spoke, the wicket was shut, and the bolts were shot.
“Let’s have a look at the map,” said Mansel.
I gave him the sheet.
As I did so, the sharp clack of wood striking wood came from the door. We all looked round—naturally enough. Someone had drawn the shutter which masked the grill. No doubt they would have done so in silence; but the shutter, I suppose, resisted, and then gave way with a rush.
Mansel laughed.
“Seeing us off the premises,” he said. He returned to the map. “There’s the village she spoke of; we might as well go that way.” He began to fold up the map and turned to the door. “By the way,” he said, using German, “was your husband on foot?”
As he spoke, he stepped to the grill, pocketing the map as he went.
No answer was given.
With his hand in his pocket Mansel peered through the bars.
“I say,” he said. “My good lady . . . .”
No one replied.
“Come on,” said I. “She’s scared.”
Mansel took his hand from his pocket and turned away.
“That’s the worst of these people,” he said. “No sense, no observation and an inherent fear that you’re trying to do them down.”
With that, he got into the car.
Carson followed, and I drove slowly away. No until we were five miles off did Mansel open his mouth.
Rose Nobel was there all the time. On the woman’s left. He was standing with his back to the doors, with his arms folded and a pistol in his right hand. I could see him in the glass of a lantern that hangs from the archway roof; its sides were tilted, and it couldn’t have been better placed.
“It was he that drew the shutter and stood looking out; that’s an assumption, of course; but I’m sur
e it’s correct. I went back in the hope that he’d stay there— to laugh in my face. But he very properly didn’t. He resisted a great temptation and thereby saved his life. He wouldn’t have expected a bullet, and I don’t think I could have missed. When he saw me coming, he stooped. If he’d moved, I should have heard him; so he stood where he was and stooped. And that was why the woman never came back; he was in the way, and she couldn’t get to the grill.”
Then he turned to Carson and asked him how much he had seen.
“The walls are forty feet high, sir—that is, from the gaps to the ground.”
“‘Embrasures’ they’re called,” said Mansel. “Yes?”
“I’m sure they’re not more, sir; they may be a foot or so less. The first windows are fourteen feet up, but they’re very heavily barred; so are the ones above. There’s no downpipe at all and no ledges that you could hold.”
“Then we must have a ladder?”
“Three, sir. Each twelve feet long. The first hooks on to the bars of a window fourteen feet up; the second on to the bars of a window above; and the third to the top of the wall.”
“Very good,” said Mansel. “Are the windows above each other?”
“No, sir. Clear by about a foot. But you go up the left of the first and the right of the one above. There’s a gap—embrasure—directly between the two.”
“I see,” said Mansel. “Wrought-iron, one-pole ladders, made by a village smith: ends and rungs covered with rubber tubing, so that they make no noise.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, sir.”
“You would have,” said Mansel. “Once they’re in place, it’ll be like going upstairs.”
“A rough night would help, sir.”
“We must hope for one,” said Mansel, “in two days’ time. And now, Chandos, let me drive. We must find a forge; and it’s got to be forty miles off.”
The tale we told the smith is of no consequence; the ladders were simple to make, and Mansel’s directions were clear; we were to find the work done by the evening of the following day.
Then Mansel found a rope factory and purchased a quantity of rope, after which we drove to some town, whose name I forget, where we bought what else we had need of to aid our assault. All this gear we presently hid in a dell—a pretty, private place, high up in the fold of a mountain, some ten miles by road from Gath.
There we could work upon it during the next two days, and thence take it direct to the Castle when the moment came.
Of foul weather we had not much hope, for the sky was clean, and Mansel’s barometer set fair: “however,” said he, “I’m not going to wait anymore. At two on Friday morning we’re going over the top; even if we don’t get Adèle, we shall see the inside of that rat-trap, and that’ll be devilish useful next time we come.”
How much we were nowadays watched I do not know. A spy can go out, but he is plainly useless unless he can later come in; and, in view of the Casemate business—to say nothing of that of Jute—I fancy Rose Noble was shy of sending his subordinates further than the edge of the wood. Had he but known, he might have spared his concern; the last thing we wished was to be led to the Castle, and Mansel had given orders that, if we saw anyone watching, we were, if we possibly could, to turn a blind eye.
Now not to look for a spy is easy enough; yet, because, perhaps, we did not want him, Fate must needs deliver one into our hands.
This was the way of it.
Both cars left Lass the next morning at eight o’clock. We were bound for the dell, where there was work to be done. Hitherto, on reaching the cross roads, the cars had gone different ways; but to-day both took the road out of which ran the drive which served Gath, so that, if someone was watching, he should be able for once to account for us all. Mansel was leading, and I was sitting with Hanbury, who was driving the second car.
No doubt our ways were known; but, be that as it may, when Mansel had swept past the drive, a man rose out of the bushes, stepped to the edge of the road and stood watching the car out of sight.
To ignore him was out of the question; we were less than a hundred yards off. If he ran, we were bound to give chase; and we were three to one. We might contrive to lose him, but you cannot run through a wood without declaring your line, and, unless he had a fair start, such a failure would be instantly suspected, if not by the spy, by Rose Noble, the moment he made his report.
“Take him aboard,” said George. “It’s the only way.”
That this was so became increasingly clear, for we made no manner of sound, and the man was absorbed in his view of Mansel’s car. Indeed, I had no time to think and barely enough to act. The man had no time to do either.
As we passed, I took him by the neck, and Bell leaned out behind me and dragged his legs into the car.
Not until then did I see that it was Jute.
He did not attempt to struggle; but I held him as I had seized him, till Bell had strapped together his ankles and wrists. Then we took a pistol from his pocket and put him on the floor of the car. And so we had meant to leave him, but such was his criticism of our conduct that after a little we gagged him with a handful of cotton waste.
“Understand this,” said Mansel. “It’s entirely your fault that you’re here. Chandos would have ignored you, but you didn’t give him a chance. You served your turn very well, but I finished with you at Lass. A man of your parts should have known that and have taken the greatest care to keep out of my way.”
Jute made no answer, and presently Mansel went on.
“I have no time for a prisoner, for prisoners must be watered and fed. So I’m going to do one of two things. Which I do will depend upon you. Either I return you to Rose Noble, or else I hang you by the neck.”
“Murder?” said Jute, and laughed.
“Murder,” said Mansel, beginning to fill a pipe.
I glanced around the dell.
The spot was peaceful: a gurgling brook, a little lawn and the shade of spreading trees made it seem fit for a shepherd’s piping match. Jute and all of us looked curiously out of place.
Perhaps, because of this, I had a strange feeling that I should presently awake and find that I had been dreaming, and to this day, recalling the happenings of that sunshiny morning, I seem to be remembering some vision rather than a downright business of life and death. Mansel was speaking.
“Now, if I return you to Rose Noble, I shall take you up to the Castle and watch you go in. That is, if it’s dark. If it’s during the day, I shall watch from the wood. You see, I don’t want to be seen.”
Jute’s face was a study.
“Now, in view of what Rose Noble said when you reported, after you had ‘led me to Lass’—I saw Jute start—“I imagine your next meeting will be even less cordial—unless you return precisely when you are expected and say nothing of having met me. I mean, he might easily argue that you had ‘led me to’ Gath.”
His eyes upon Mansel’s face, Jute was plainly thinking extremely hard.
Mansel continued slowly, pressing his tobacco home. “I can’t return you to-day, because I’ve too much to do. In fact—”
“See here,” said Jute. “You can make it to-morrow night. Do that, and I haven’t seen you since you went by in the car.”
“Don’t try to bluff,” said Mansel. “It’s only wasting my time. You haven’t a card. You had quite a good one about five seconds ago; but I’ve just drawn that. You see, I wanted to know whether Rose Noble would worry if you didn’t come in to-night.”
I watched the blood come into the other’s face. Mansel continued in the same even tone.
“I tell you this to show you that it’s no good playing with me. Bear that in mind. And now to business.”
I cannot describe the coldness with which Mansel spoke; there was no insolence in his speech, only an iron contempt, which must, I think, have entered into the other’s soul.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, and I’ll allow you one lie; if you tell two lies, I shall hang you fro
m a branch of that oak.”
“And you talk, about bluff,” sneered Jute.
“It’s not bluff,” said Mansel. “I’ve got the gloves right off. Two lies, and you’re for the high jump, as sure as I’m sitting still. And now we’ll begin. Assume you’re on the ramparts above the gateway. How would you go from there to where Mrs. Pleydell lies?”
Jute gave a short laugh.
“I thought,” he said, “you’d finished with me at Lass.”
“So I had,” said Mansel, bringing a match to his pipe.
“Looks like it, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t care what it looks like,” said Mansel. “But I think you may as well know that I’m pressed for time; and, if you elect to be hanged, I shall have less still, because it’ll take two hours to dig you a grave.”
“Rake it out,” said Jute sharply. “I know your shape. You can wear a gun on your back side, but it’ll never fit. You’re out of your depth, Mansel; and, if you take my advice, you’ll kick for the shore. Your job’s to pay and be damned. We’ve got your girl, and—”
“Carson,” said Mansel, “get a rope on that bough. Timber hitch on the wood, slip knot the other end.”
For a moment the servants spoke together. Then Bell was on Rowley’s shoulders and up in the tree, and Carson was down in a gully with a knife in his hand. The next minute he reappeared, with a coil of rope on his arm . . . .
I knew that Mansel was bluffing, for he was not a hard man. He would have killed Rose Noble, for he was the head of the corner, and, with his death, the conspiracy would have gone. He would have killed anyone whose death would materially help him to reach Adèle. But a spy that, when taken, refused to open his mouth, was as safe in Mansel’s hands as a priest on his altar steps. I knew he would never hang Jute, though God knows he had just cause. Mansel was bluffing; and I was greatly afraid that the fellow would call his bluff.
Mansel returned to Jute.
“As I said, I’ll give you one lie. A refusal counts as a lie. Assume you’re on the ramparts above the gateway. How would you go from there to where Mrs. Pleydell lies?”
After a long silence—
“Which way am I facing?” said Jute sullenly.
Blind Corner and Perishable Goods Page 28