Eye For A Tooth

by Yates, Dornford

  After some twenty paces we came to a postern-door. This was shut, but was clearly in use by day, for the dirt on the steps was fresh and someone had left a light crowbar leaning against the wall. By now we were out of sight of the drive by which we had come, so we went on as fast as we could, sure that we should come upon some garage before very long and not at all anxious to find that, whilst we had been rounding the castle, the following car had arrived.

  But luck was with us.

  Before we had gone much farther, I saw the glow of some light, and after a few more paces, I knew we had won our race.

  Some light within the castle was shining out of an archway on to a cobbled apron which must have been fifty feet square. From this apron a drive ran off, to curl with the castle’s wall. That the archway led into the garage there could be no doubt, and the light had been left burning to help some car to enter on its return.

  We had now passed out of the shadow and into the moonlight again, but no one above could see us because we were hugging the wall. And since it seemed unlikely that those who were now abroad would have left a man in the garage to witness their coming in, I ventured up to the archway and looked within.

  The archway was really a tunnel which had been driven through the outer wall of the castle into the bailey beyond. And in the bailey a very fine garage had been made. All this I could see very well, for the light was not burning in the archway, but in the garage itself. I could not see any cars, for these were out of my view, but a mighty turn-table stood in the midst of the concrete floor, so that, once a car was on this, it could be headed exactly towards where it had to go. The depth of the garage was clearly that of the bailey, for its back wall curved and was built of the same coursed rubble as was the outer wall upon which I was resting my hand.

  I then examined the door with which the archway could be closed. This was in two great leaves, each swung back against the wall. They were made in the ancient fashion and studded with iron, but they were but copies of leaves much older than they. They could be barred, but not locked, which meant, of course, that, while someone within the garage could let himself out, he could not put back the bars which he had displaced; but in one of the leaves was a wicket, and when I examined this, I saw that it had a Yale lock, which meant that it could be closed by someone outside.

  At once I made up my mind to conceal myself in the garage and wait for the car to come in, whilst Bell stayed without the castle in case of accidents. If, after the car had returned, more than an hour went by, but I did not appear, he was to take the Lowland and drive to the farm, there to report to Mansel and tell him what had occurred.

  “I’d rather come with you, sir. I mean, you don’t never know with people like this.”

  “I’ll be all right,” said I. “I’ve no intention of–” And that was as far as I got, for in that instant some headlights’ beam fell on to the cobbled apron, to make it as bright as day.

  By the mercy of God, we were both within the archway and so out of view, and that, I suppose, was why we had not been able to hear the approach of the car. Be that as it may, we both of us ran for the garage as bard as ever we could, and, whipping out of the tunnel, darted to right and left, to make ourselves scarce. Where Bell went I did not see, but finding myself beside a huge limousine, I opened one of its doors and stumbled inside. As I shut the door behind me, the drawl of the incoming engine increased to a roar, and I knew it had entered the tunnel, which was magnifying its sound.

  At first I crouched on the floor-boards, afraid to move, for there were windows all round me and the garage was brilliantly lit. Then the driver switched off his engine, and I ventured to raise my head.

  The car had been stopped on the turn-table, as no doubt was the custom in such a place. It was a powerful two-seater and must have been very fast. A liveried chauffeur was sitting still at the wheel, and a giant of a man was climbing out of the dickey, presenting his back to my eyes. Beside the chauffeur was sitting a slighter man, with a muffler about his throat and a flying-cap on his head.

  When the giant was out of the dickey, he opened the off-side door and took off his hat. And the chauffeur, too, uncovered, as the other man left his seat.

  I saw the latter well, and, though he was very handsome, there was that about him that made me clench my fists. His eyebrows were slightly lifted, and a faint, disdainful smile hung about his lips; but, most unpleasant of all, his eyelids drooped so low that his eyes were almost shut. His face was very pale and he wore a small moustache which was turning grey; and the whole effect was that of a cold and merciless pride – a cruel and pitiless type, accustomed to have its way. Indeed, I remember thinking that of such must have been that Pharaoh that ‘hardened his heart and would not let Israel go.’

  As he left the car, his coat parted and I saw that, beneath, he was wearing evening dress. The giant fell in behind him, until his master had come to a door in the wall; this he made haste to open; and then he stood aside to let the other pass through. He did not go through himself, but put on his hat and walked along the wall until he came to a wheel, like that of a ship. When he put his weight on its spokes, the turn-table began to move, and, after a moment or two, the car was perfectly placed to move to between two others upon the opposite side. At that instant the chauffeur cried out and the other stopped turning the wheel. Whilst the chauffeur was berthing the car, the other stood looking on, with his back to the wall. I, therefore, could see him well, and a grim-looking fellow he was. I put him down for a confidential valet, and that I later learned was the place he filled. That the chauffeur feared him was plain, for his manner was deferential, and the other gave him orders, though I do not know what they were. And he gave them offensively, as only a servant can. Then he turned on his heel and went out by the door in the wall. The chauffeur watched his going; then he turned and passed down into the tunnel to shut the doors. I heard the bars fall into place. Then he, too, made his way to the door in the wall. I saw him pass through and shut it. A moment later the light in the garage went out.

  Before we left we had a look at the coupé.

  No pool of oil was lying beneath the boot and indeed she had left no trail in the garage itself. But beneath the boot ran a feed-pipe, as we had thought. And then at the head of the feed-pipe, I felt the tap… That made everything clear. My lady had driven in and had left her car on the turntable for another to put away. That other, no doubt, was the chauffeur whom we had seen. The moment that she had gone, he had turned off the tap; and, after berthing the coupé, had washed away with petrol such mess as the oil had made.

  Examine the boot, we could not; for this was locked; and, since we could do no more, we let ourselves out by the wicket, to make our way home.

  Before we left, we went on round the castle, until we could see the place where the drives came in.

  There were in all three drives or private roads. And they all ran into a sweep in front of the castle’s gate. And out of that sweep, or rond point, ran the drive which served the garage and skirted the castle’s wall.

  Since the moon was still up, though low, we retreated as we had come, past the garage and postern and into the lengthened shadow the castle threw. And so we came back to the Lowland; and forty minutes later we reached the farm.

  Mansel was sitting up against my return, and Carson had soup all ready to serve to Bell and to me. And whilst I was eating my supper I told my tale.

  When at last I had come to the end—

  “You really have,” said Mansel, “done awfully well. I suppose you realize that you have been into Schloss Varvic and had a good look at Duke Saul.”

  “My God,” said I. “And it never entered my head.”

  “And I’ve no doubt at all that your lady friend is the Duchess. She was a Boston girl – Caroline Herring, by name. She was very lovely and charming, I’ve always heard. And she married Duke Saul of Varvic four years ago.” He sighed. “And that is so often the way. The bigger the blackguard, the straighter the woman he gets.�
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  4: Forecast Goes Visiting

  Our hands were now pretty full, for we were watching Latchet as best we could. This, of course, by day only; for, now that they knew that some stranger had entered the ring, Forecast and Co. were not likely to work any more by night. Although, under cover of darkness, we could have approached the inn, that would have been of no use, unless we could hear what they said. But that would have meant going into the inn and upstairs, and “that,” said Mansel, “would be to ask for trouble of a very unpleasant kind. The horse has been stolen, of course; but it’s only human nature to watch the stableyard for a week to come.”

  Of two things we wished to be sure – whether Forecast went to Schloss Varvic and whether, and if so when, he would send a telegram. And so, as I say, we watched Latchet as best we could.

  Our method was this.

  Three of us would drive to the crossroads which I have mentioned before. Two would then leave the car, and the third would drive to the lane, for this showed no sign of use and was the nearest place at which we could hide the car. The two would pass through the woods until they saw Latchet below them, sunk in its dell. From more than one point here, a man could see the Post Office as well as the inn, and from one particular spot he could look right into the coach-house, if only its doors were wide. With the help of binoculars, therefore, a pretty strict watch could be kept, and if anyone left the inn, we could see where he went without being seen ourselves. Every two hours one watcher would return to the crossroads, to meet the car and report; and if there was any news, the car could immediately carry it back to the farm.

  On Friday this duty was done by George Hanbury, Rowley and Carson, while Mansel and Bell and I took the morning off. To be perfectly honest, Bell was washing the Lowland and Mansel was sitting beside me, busy with pencil and pad, and I was half asleep in the sunshine, listening to the murmur of the trout-stream and dreaming of Varvic in the moonlight and what a picture it made.

  “I feel,” said Mansel, “that we must send Worsteds a wire – in Forecast’s name. If we don’t send one, he will; and ours will be much more likely to bring someone out. He’ll wire in the end, of course; but either he’ll put it too low, in which case they’ll send him instructions he can’t fulfil, or else he’ll put it too high, in which case he’ll frighten them off. To bring the big fellow out, he’s got to be made to believe, first, that there’s something wrong, secondly, that the game can be saved, and, thirdly, that only he can manage to pull it off.” He put the pad into my hand. “Bearing those facts in mind, d’you think that would do? Worsteds of course will believe it’s been sent by Boney or Gulf.”

  I read the draft telegram through.

  Forecast still in hospital carried on but found nothing so went to see his nibs waited two hours then told to come back next week please send money say twenty quid

  WENSLEY

  I covered my eyes and began to shake with laughter.

  “I confess,” said Mansel, smiling, “that it has its humorous side. But business and pleasure do sometimes go hand in hand. Seriously, d’you think it’s too hot? I’ll never forgive myself if I frighten them off. The idea of Boney or Gulf’s visiting Varvic and trying to bluff the Duke will send them half out of their minds, but they may feel that, since he’s not seen them, they may be able, by coming, to keep the appointment instead.”

  “I think it’s brilliant,” I said. “And the ‘still’ is a masterly touch. I wouldn’t alter a word. But I’d love to be there when they get it.”

  “So would I,” said Mansel. “That’s the worst of these shows. One takes certain action, unknown to the other side. And you’d give a month of your life to be there when it takes effect. And to hear what they say. But you never are. It’s probably just as well; you’d laugh so much that you wouldn’t be able to stand. Never mind. We’ll send this wire this evening – from Salzburg, of course. The answer ought to be there by tomorrow midday. So we’d better spend the night there. I say ‘we,’ because I must go – I know how to deal with an accommodation address. But you and George must toss up as to who holds the fort.”

  “George goes with you,” said I. “He’s had no show at all, and a night in Salzburg will suit him down to the socks.”

  Mansel looked at me very hard.

  “Right you are,” he said. “But no funny business, William. You’re not to go near Varvic. I mean what I say.”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “We don’t want the Duchess followed on Sunday night.”

  “She won’t be,” said Mansel. “On Sunday night we shall picket all three of the private roads. She’s bound to use one of them, and we stop her as she goes out. Then we turn off the tap on the feed-pipe and show her the way to the farm. And when she returns, we go with her, and we open the tap again when she reaches a private road. And then we come home.”

  “That’s good enough,” said I. “But we can’t do it more than once.”

  Mansel shrugged his shoulders.

  “Sufficient unto the day,” was all he said.

  And there I saw George Hanbury, strolling towards us with a comfortable smile on his face.

  “All’s well,” he said. “They haven’t been near the Post Office. But China and Gulf have been splitting themselves on the car. Talk about spit and polish. They might have been hoping to win her some beauty prize. And good old Belper Orion cheering them on. All dressed up, he was – a study in brown. With a glass in his eye – I saw it – and a very rude hat on his head. And when China answered him back, he socked him one on the jaw. And China lay down and rolled. And Belper went and kicked him up to his feet. He’s a little caution, our Belper. He knows what he wants when he wants it, and that’s a fact. Then Boney comes out, all dressed up as a chauffeur, in navy blue. And dear Belper rehearses him in the stableyard. I tell you I laughed fit to burst. But he made him open a door and hold a hand to his hat. And China giggled and got knocked down again. It’s a pantomime, I tell you. If you saw it shoved on the stage, you’d swear it was overdone. And I saw it with these two orbs. Finally, off they go – Boney driving and Belper sitting behind. And Gulf and China laughing to beat the band. That they’re bound for Varvic, there can be no possible doubt.”

  “Good,” said Mansel, laughing, and got to his feet. “And now let’s think about lunch. You’re spending the night in Salzburg, with me for chaperon.”

  “Well don’t be too strict,” said George. “I haven’t walked into a night-club for more than three months.”

  I was at the crossroads at two – with the Lowland this time, for Mansel and George were going to take the Rolls. As I slowed to a standstill, Rowley stepped out of the woods, to say that all was quiet and that neither Gulf nor China had left the inn. I bade him take my place and drive to the farm, break his fast there and be back by four o’clock. And then I went off to join Carson. All Latchet was very quiet, and, since it was very hot, the two of us took it in turns to doze and watch. At twenty minutes to four I sent Carson off to the crossroads, to send Rowley back to me and do as Rowley had done.

  By now I was something surprised that Forecast had not returned, for from Latchet to Varvic was less than twenty-five miles, and Boney and he had left at eleven o’clock. From what I had seen of Duke Saul, I should have said that, without his letter of introduction, a man like Forecast would not have been admitted, much less received. But in such a case he would have been back by two. And when five o’clock had gone by, yet he had not come back, it seemed pretty clear not only that he had been received, but that he had convinced Duke Saul that, unless he took action of some sort, he himself was certain to be involved.

  Thinking things over, I saw that, if Forecast told him the truth – that some person or persons unknown had now stepped into the ring and had actually in their possession the letter addressed to Duke Saul, the latter would be very angry, but greatly concerned. Such a letter was dangerous. And wild as he would be with Forecast and Worsted and Co., if he was to save himself, he would have to come i
n with them and to do his best to help them to bring the intruders down.

  (Here perhaps I should say that Mansel had carefully copied both the letter of introduction and the very damning instructions which Forecast should have sent back. But he had taken the originals to Salzburg, as well as the four rogues’ passports and everything else. All this he was to lodge with the Bank in whose custody he had left the cloak-room receipt.)

  And then another notion came into my head – a sinister notion that made me feel sick at heart. And all at once I knew that Mansel had had it, but, perhaps to spare my feelings, had not conveyed it to me. That was why he had looked at me so straightly and then had forbidden me to visit Varvic again.

  Let me put it like this.

  Mansel had heard my account of how I had met the Duchess and how we had hidden the fact that the coupé had entered the lane; of how we had driven to Varvic and had a look at the Duke. And he had asked very few questions; but one he had asked was this. “How long was the coupé in the lane?” And I had told him, “A little over an hour.” Which shows that he saw at once that, though we had hidden the place where the Duchess had stopped, we could not conceal the fact that she had spent more than two hours on a run which, though you drove slowly, took less than one.

  The Duke would therefore know not only that she had stopped, but that someone whom she had met had observed the trail and had erased the portion which would, if left alone, have betrayed their meeting-place: and if he did receive Forecast and hear what he had to say, he would at once perceive that the Duchess herself was in touch with the people who now held the letter which Worsteds had written to him.

  It seemed to me very likely that any moment now some storm or other would break; but I did not want it to break about the Duchess’ head.