by Miles Burton
“Hasn’t it occurred to you that he may not land at all, at least not yet? Look here, I’ve been thinking what I should do in his place. The skipper of that Belgian craft, La Lys, is obviously in the secret. Now, La Lys, having dropped the box on Vane Sand, proceeds to Gippingford, where she stays just long enough to unload what cargo she has for that port. On the last occasion, I noticed that she left the day after her arrival, and went on to London. Yesterday she must have arrived in Gippingford fairly early, about nine or ten. I expect that she would be ready to leave this morning at dawn; in fact, I should not wonder if she were on her way to London now.”
“Well, that doesn’t matter. I shall telephone London and have her boarded at Gravesend. But I don’t see what all this has got to do with Thorburn.”
“Don’t you? Remember that Thorburn probably knows her movements as well or better than I do. He escapes from you and Newport by the simple process of chucking me into the river, knowing that you will stop to pick me up, and that I shall insist upon going back to the island to rescue Mavis from the clutches of that brute Hollesley. He thus ensures himself plenty of time to reach the speed-boat and get clear away out of the river. He would know that it would be risking certain arrest to attempt to land. But he does not know that there is any charge against him but that of attempted murder. He does not know that the box has been recovered from Vane Sand, and that its contents have been discovered. Even though he considers the possibility of this having happened, he does not know that we have any reason to connect the box with La Lys.
“This being so, one pretty obvious line of escape is open to him. He imagines La Lys to be as free from suspicion as any other of the hundreds of coasters which frequent the Port of London. All he has to do is to run down the coast in the speed-boat and wait for her to come out of Gippingford. He then boards her, scuttles the speed-boat and lies low. There is nothing to prevent him remaining concealed on board her while she stays in London. Then, when she arrives in Ghent once more, he could easily slip ashore, with his appearance so altered that he would run no risk of being arrested from his description. Anyway, I’d try it in his place.”
“By jove, there’s something in that! We’d better push on to Gravesend and wait for La Lys there.”
“There’s no particular hurry. It is seventy-two nautical miles from Gippingford to Gravesend. From what I have seen of La Lys, I am pretty sure that she won’t make more than eight knots, especially as she’ll have the ebb against her most of the way. Even if she left Gippingford as early as five, she can’t get to Gravesend before two, and possibly an hour or so later. We shall be in Gippingford by half-past seven. It is just over sixty miles from Gippingford to Tilbury, which is on this side of London River, opposite Gravesend. If you order a police boat to wait there at two o’clock, that will be in plenty of time. Say two and a half hours to reach Tilbury in a car. That means leaving Gippingford at half-past eleven. You will have four hours in Gippingford, in which you can do a lot. Personally, I’m going to get some breakfast somewhere. Anyhow, even if La Lys gets to Gravesend earlier than two, you can order her to be detained till you arrive.”
When the car reached Gippingford, Merrion went in search of breakfast, while the Inspector conveyed his charge to the police station. Hollesley appeared to be in a state of collapse, and Doctor Barrett, on being summoned, ordered his immediate removal to hospital. “The man’s suffering from the after-effect of drugs,” he said. “You’ll get nothing out of him for several days, even if you do then. He’ll probably be a nervous wreck when he gets over this attack. Judging by the state he’s in, he must have been a drug addict for years.”
Hollesley having been disposed of, Young proceeded to the telephone, and held a long conversation with Scotland Yard. He arranged for Thorburn’s description to be circulated, and for a police launch to await him at Tilbury jetty. He also requested that a man should be sent from the Yard to meet him there, with full particulars of Thorburn’s previous arrest and conviction under the alias of Gregson. This done, he sought out Colonel Bateman, to whom he outlined the whole story.
“Well, it’s the most amazing thing I ever heard!” exclaimed the Chief Constable, when he had finished. “I always felt that there was something queer about High Eldersham, but I never imagined that it was anything like this. An organised scheme of drug smuggling, covered by the practice of witchcraft. It’s incredible and, frankly, I don’t know what we’re going to do about it.”
“If I might suggest, sir, I think the two might be kept entirely separate,” replied Young. “My charge against Hollesley and Thorburn is solely one of trafficking in drugs, and is not concerned in any way with the practice of witchcraft.”
“Yes. But what about the murder of that poor chap, Whitehead?” objected Colonel Bateman.
“I believe that I am at last on the track of that, sir. If I am correct, I think that it will be found that that, too, had no connection with the curious conspiracy existing at High Eldersham. Of course, that conspiracy was illegal, but I fancy that it would be very difficult to obtain evidence which would lead to conviction of any of the persons concerned. The only course would be to proceed against Doctor Padfield for causing grievous bodily harm by the improper administration of drugs, and I think that it is very doubtful if we should be able to prove our case.”
“So that your advice is that we should ignore the question of witchcraft altogether?”
“It is, sir. I don’t think that any harm will come of it. The practice is bound to cease with Hollesley’s arrest, for it is very unlikely that any one else will take his place. You will doubtless instruct the police to watch the place very carefully in future.”
“I think you’re right, Inspector. To raise the question would involve a tremendous scandal, in which my old friend, Owerton, would be involved, without producing any results which would compensate for it. Unless future developments render it absolutely necessary, I think it will be best for us to keep our mouths shut on that particular subject. What is your next move to be?”
“I propose to pay a visit to the Tower of London, sir. And I should like the assistance of some of your men.”
“Take who you like. I’ll tell Superintendent Bass to put the whole force at your disposal. Now, you want to get to work, I expect. You haven’t too much time if you’re going to start for Tilbury at half-past eleven.”
Young, congratulating himself upon the result of his interview with the Chief Constable, went to the rendezvous which he had appointed with Merrion, and told him what had happened. “I don’t think that there will be any need for either Sir William’s or his daughter’s name to appear to all,” he said. “Of course, you’ll have to give evidence as to the finding of the box and your watching Hollesley and Thorburn on the dune, but that’s all. Now then, if you would like to assist at an interesting little function, come along.”
They called once more at the police station, where Young gave certain instructions, and then walked slowly to the Tower of London. Since the place was not yet open for the sale of liquor, there were no customers about, and the lounge was empty save for a boy busily engaged in polishing the tables. From him they learnt that Mr. Dunsford and his son were in, but that Mrs. Dunsford was out shopping.
“Very well, then, I’ll see Mr. Dunsford,” remarked Young. “Just run along and tell him that an old friend would like a word with him, will you?”
As soon as the boy had left the room, Young turned to Merrion. “As soon as you see me talking to Dunsford, slip out and find his son. You’ll find him in the bar probably. Tell him that his father wants him in here.”
“All right,” replied Merrion. “What’s the game?”
“You’ll see in a minute or two. I want all the members of the family under my eye for a bit. The house is surrounded by now, and if Mrs. Dunsford comes back she’ll be brought in here, too. Ah, here’s Dunsford, I think.”
The door opened a
nd Dunsford came in. He did not look overjoyed at recognising the Inspector, but when he spoke it was heartily enough. “Well, I never! I didn’t expect to see you, Mr. Young. What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering whether you could let me have a box of matches, Mr. Dunsford,” replied the Inspector quietly.
“A box of matches! Why, certainly,” said Dunsford, going to a cupboard and unlocking it. “Here you are.”
Young glanced at the box and shook his head. “No, not that kind,” he said. “I want the kind that you supply to Lady Applegarth.”
Dunsford’s eyes flashed, but his face assumed an expression of deliberate stupidity. “I don’t know who you mean, Mr. Young,” he replied. “But this is the only kind I keep in here. If you want any other sort, I’ll have to go and get them.”
“Oh, don’t trouble,” said Young, with a glance at Merrion, who slipped quietly out of the room. He met the boy in the passage, and sent him with a message to young Dunsford, who appeared shortly and entered the lounge to join his father.
A moment later Young opened the door and beckoned to a constable who seemed to be interested in the pavement outside. “Keep an eye on these two for me, will you?” he said, and then, turning to Merrion: “Come along, and we’ll see if we can find those matches for ourselves.”
Merrion followed him as he opened various doors in turn until he found the Dunsfords’ private sitting-room. On a table in one corner stood a safe, a clumsy old-fashioned concern. Young produced a bunch of keys, and opened it without much difficulty. Inside it lay a dozen boxes of matches.
“Ah, those are the kind I want!” exclaimed Young. “Take them out and have a look at them.”
Merrion took out one of the boxes and opened it. “Do you usually take all these precautions before you steal a box of matches?” he remarked. “They look ordinary enough to me. Hallo, they’re not half-full! They’re packed with paper or something. Looks to me like very short measure.”
He shook out the matches as he spoke, and drew a paper packet from the bottom of the box. “Hallo, what’s this?” he said as he opened it, disclosing half an ounce or so of white powder.
“Cocaine, I should say,” replied Young negligently. “Can’t say for certain till it’s been analysed.”
Merrion gave a low whistle. “So that’s the game, is it!” he exclaimed. “But how did you know the stuff was here?”
“In the safe?” replied Young. “I didn’t. I only tried it first because it was the sort of fool place that a man like Dunsford would keep it in.”
“Oh, shut up!” exclaimed Merrion irritably. “How did you know it was in this pub, I mean?”
“Perfectly simple, my dear Watson,” replied Young. “My well-known powers of deduction led me infallibly to the spot. In the first place, I discovered within the last few days that the stuff was being distributed in match-boxes. In the second, I knew that all sorts of unlikely people, of whom Lady Applegarth is an example, came to visit Dunsford for some mysterious purpose. In the third, I gathered from the conversation I overheard that Dunsford could not supply what was demanded while he was at the Rose and Crown. Then, when I learnt that Hollesley and Thorburn were engaged in drug-smuggling, I remembered that we had seen him come here on the day after a consignment had arrived. It was a pretty easy guess that Dunsford was in the plot, and formed the first link in the chain of distribution. Got it? Now, if you’ll stay here for a minute and watch these boxes, I’ll arrange for Dunsford to be taken round to the station.”
Very shortly afterwards the Inspector and Merrion were seated once more in the car, speeding towards Tilbury. The former was in high spirits at the success of his raid on the Tower of London. “I have a feeling that my luck is going to hold, and that we shall get hold of Thorburn all right,” he said. “It’s wonderful how a business like this straightens itself out, once you get hold of the right end of the stick. The only thing I can’t quite understand is that witchcraft business. How on earth did Hollesley get all those folk at High Eldersham to believe in that mumbo-jumbo of his?”
“You would have understood it clearly enough if you had seen it as closely as I did,” replied Merrion soberly. “It was so impressively staged that an uneducated person could hardly fail to be convinced that there was something mysterious behind it all. Besides, it didn’t really matter whether they believed in it or not. The psychology of the thing seems fairly simple to me. The members of the coven derived a definite advantage from the ceremonies. Any one against whom they had a grudge suffered accordingly. But things were a good deal deeper than that. The real attraction was the drugs mixed in the bowl which was handed round, and the sensations they produced. It’s all pretty horrible, but there isn’t the slightest doubt that the meetings ended in an orgy of promiscuous lust, no doubt excited by some form of aphrodisiac. If you study some of the old records, you’ll find these things described in detail. Hollesley’s whole idea, of course, was to turn the village into a more or less criminal society, no member of which would dare to give him away. I shouldn’t wonder if every one in the place knew about the drug smuggling. And it’s quite likely they all know who murdered Whitehead.”
“No, I wouldn’t go as far as that,” commented Young, with an enigmatic smile.
Chapter XXX
It was twenty minutes to two when the car arrived at Tilbury. A plain-clothes man from Scotland Yard was waiting there, and came forward to greet the Inspector.
“I’ve brought the information you asked for,” he said, as he handed Young an official envelope. “There’s a police launch waiting at the steps, and I’ve communicated with the Port of London Authority people at Gravesend. La Lys has not passed here yet. She’ll be bound to stop when she does in order to pick up a river pilot.”
“That sounds all right,” replied Young. “You’ll recognise her as she comes up the river, won’t you, Merrion?”
“I shall recognise her, all right,” said Merrion with a smile. “I’ve seen her too often to be easily mistaken.”
“Very well, then. Let’s walk out on to the pier. We shall be able to see her coming from there.”
It was a bright spring morning, comfortably warm in the sun. Merrion and the Inspector, having seen where the police launch was lying, strolled out to the pier, whence a view could be obtained down river. Young drew the official envelope from his pocket and opened it. It contained a couple of sheets, closely typed. The Inspector ran through the contents eagerly and suddenly uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.
Merrion glanced at him inquiringly. “What’s up now?” he asked.
“You’ll see as soon as we get aboard La Lys,” replied Young. “It’s about time she was in sight, if your calculations are correct. While you were having breakfast, I telephoned to the dock at Gippingford. She left there soon after five.”
“You needn’t be so scornful about that breakfast of mine. I think you’ll admit that I earned it. And, what’s more, we don’t look like getting any lunch to-day. I wish this confounded craft would hurry up.”
The minutes went by and still there was no sign of La Lys. Merrion stood, leaning against the rails of the pier, his eyes fixed upon Coalhouse Point, round which she must come into sight. The confidence which he had felt earlier in the morning began to desert him. Suppose he had brought Young on a false errand, after all? He still felt pretty sure that his forecast of Thorburn’s actions had been correct, that he would have seen his only chance of escape in reaching La Lys. But what if he had persuaded her skipper to abandon his usual route and double back across the North Sea, where he could be landed at some deserted spot and get clear away? And then, as he was about to confess his misgivings, a familiar squat form came slowly round the point.
“There she is!” he exclaimed. “Come along, let’s put out and meet her.”
“There’s no hurry,” replied the Inspector quietly. “Wait till she stops to pick up her pilot
. We don’t want to alarm the people on board of her unnecessarily by the sight of a police launch.”
To Merrion’s impatience the progress of La Lys up Gravesend Reach seemed maddeningly slow. But at last she drew nearly abreast of them, and a pilot boat put off from the Gravesend shore to board her.
“Come along!” said the Inspector shortly.
They ran down the steps into the police launch, which immediately cast off and shot out into the river. The man at the helm, experienced in such work, dodged in and out of the crowded shipping, until the launch reached the side of La Lys. The pilot boat was still alongside, and the men in the launch tumbled out of her, across the deck of the pilot boat and so on board the Belgian motor-ship.
The skipper of La Lys and the river pilot were obviously engaged in argument. “It’s no use, captain,” the latter was saying. “Orders is orders, and I’ve got to obey them. My instructions are that you’re to anchor here till a message comes from the shore. Ah, this is it, I expect.”
Inspector Young came forward and touched the skipper on the shoulder. “I have a warrant to search this ship, captain,” he said. “I have to warn you that a very serious charge will probably be laid against you, and that anything you may say will be used in evidence against you. You are suspected of having on board a man of the name of Thorburn or Gregson, for whose arrest I have a warrant. Are you prepared to produce him?”
The skipper, who evidently understood English perfectly, went deathly white. “A charge against me!” he stammered. “It is impossible. And this man—how do you say his name? I know nothing about him!”
Young shrugged his shoulders. “All right,” he said. “We’ll deal with your case later. You aren’t making things any easier for yourself, you know. Will you proceed to search the ship, please, sergeant?”
The sergeant of the river police, an expert in such matters, gave the necessary orders, and the search began. Meanwhile the pilot took charge. He rang the engine-room telegraph, and the propeller began to churn slowly. He swung La Lys out of the fairway, and in a few minutes her anchor dropped with a dull splash into the muddy water of the river.