Eye For A Tooth

by Yates, Dornford

  The light he had seen was burning a little way up the drive, directly beyond a slight bend. The impression it gave was this – that some car, with its headlights dipped, was about to round the bend on its way towards the mouth of the drive, and, had we gone by in a car, instead of on foot, we must have observed the light and have so interpreted it. But in fact the light was not moving. More. When you studied the beam, you saw it was limited. It shone upon the roadway, but nowhere else: and so, to avoid it was easy; for a man could walk up the drive and then step into the woods, move on past the beam and then back to the drive. At least, it seemed that he could…

  Many men know the value of waiting: but few, I think, are prepared to use that knowledge as Mansel always did. His patience was infinite – and was almost invariably rewarded as it deserved. On this occasion he knew that the man who had cleared his throat would eventually go away or would be relieved; to observe such a movement, he was ready to wait all night, because he desired to see how the man behaved as he went – whether he stuck to the drive or entered the woods.

  For over an hour and a quarter we lay beside that ditch, always ready, at the sound of some car, to slip down out of sight; but in all that time nothing happened, except that now and again the sentinel cleared his throat.

  And then at last a figure, moving towards us, whipped into and out of the beam a little way up the drive.

  Now whoever it was did not proceed at once to the mouth of the drive. Though, of course, we could not see him, I think he was probably listening for any sound of a car. If I am right, I suppose he was satisfied, for after three or four minutes, he used his torch. He used his torch to examine the sides of the drive; and the light of his torch showed us that each of the sides was wired. They were wired waist-high with barbed wire; of this there were three strands, and all of the strands were strained. A man could step over them, but only by holding them down; he could pass between or below them, but only by holding them up.

  The man did not touch the wire, but only examined it: then he came on down the drive and spoke to the sentinel. He spoke in German, of course: but while I could hear his words, Mansel understood what they meant.

  “Has a car been by?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Anyone on foot?”

  “No, sir.”

  The torch was lighted.

  “Look at your watch and tell me what time it says.”

  “Ten minutes to one, sir.”

  The torch was put out.

  “Well, listen. You will now return to the lodge and report to Hans. You will tell him that at five minutes past one, according to your watch, I am going to test the wires by the side of the drive. If all is in order, the signal light should go out. He will not rouse the others, because he will know it is me: but he will at once send Kleiner to restore the connection which I shall have broken in two. If the signal light does not go out at five or six minutes past, then Kleiner and Boll will come out to find and repair the fault. And now repeat those instructions.”

  The sentinel did so.

  “Off with you then, and be back at half-past two. And don’t loiter about in that beam.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  With that, the fellow withdrew, and after a moment or two, passed into and out of the beam. And such is the way of the world that, as soon as his subordinate was out of the way, the other took out matches and lighted a cigarette.

  Nothing could have been better – from our point of view, for now we could see where he was and watch every movement he made.

  After a little he began to stroll up the drive – and before I could think, Mansel was over the road. George had time to join him, before the man turned; but I stayed on the other side, only moving forward, until I could see up the drive.

  I saw the man turn and come back, and glanced at my wrist. It was almost one o’clock – by the sentinel’s watch. Right down the drive he strolled and into the road. There he stood, with his hands in his pockets, looking to right and to left, four paces from where I lay.

  And then he turned about…and, as he turned, Mansel hit him…right on the point…the very deuce of a blow.

  George and I picked him up and carried him into the drive. It was Saul’s valet – the great, big brute that I had seen in the garage, less than a fortnight before.

  “Come,” said Mansel, and led the way up the drive.

  At exactly five minutes past one, according to the sentinel’s watch, he set his foot on the middle strand of the wire, pressing it down firmly before letting it go. And then we moved up to the bend, and waited just clear of the beam.

  The beam was thrown by a powerful acetylene lamp, attached to a tree. Over this a hood had been placed, and the hood had been so adjusted as to limit the beam to the drive.

  Within ten minutes we saw the light of a torch coming down the drive from the lodge. That the man who bore it was Kleiner there can be no doubt, for he threw its light on the post which was taking the strain of the wire which Mansel had touched. This post was of metal and was very carefully planted and heavily stayed. Three feet behind it, however, had been planted a wooden post; and from this wooden post ran a single, flexible wire. This was covered with rubber and lay on the ground. When Kleiner arrived there was nothing between the two posts, but at once he picked up two ends which he found hanging down. These he hitched together, thus making a rough connection between the two posts. Then he touched the metal post, and at once the connection gave way. Again he made his connection. Then he turned to examine the wire on the other side of the drive. But this was intact. And then he turned on his heel and began to walk back up the drive.

  “Simple and effective,” murmured Mansel. “Ah, well. One lives and learns. So much better to break than to make. So much more certain. And now we know. I rather suspect that these wires are China’s ‘tape.’” The light of Kleiner’s torch disappeared round a bend. “Come along. Let’s keep him in view.”

  We passed through the beam of the lamp and hastened along the drive, some fifty yards behind Kleiner, making his way to the lodge. Our shoes were soled with rubber, but his were not; so we closed to within twenty paces without being heard.

  We saw him cross the forecourt and mount the steps of the lodge, and we saw that the door was wide open and that some light or other was burning within.

  As the fellow crossed the threshold, we came to the end of the drive.

  “You two, wait here,” breathed Mansel, and went on alone.

  Twenty seconds later, I saw the slightest movement against the glow of the light which was burning within the lodge…

  Waiting there with George in the darkness, I was again assailed by that shameful feeling of fear. I was afraid for Mansel, I was afraid for us; I felt we were probing something that ought to be left alone – trespassing upon ground that belonged to a jealous lord, who took no offence at our presence because he knew the doom that befell all trespassers. To put it another way, it seemed to me that the powers of evil were watching and, worse than that, were smiling a slow, sure smile. It was absurd, of course, for men could live and move in the house itself. And yet…

  And so I was more than thankful when Mansel came back, after being gone a quarter of an hour – which had seemed like three quarters to me.

  He said nothing then and we made our way back down the drive, to find the valet still senseless and flat on his back.

  This time I went through his pockets. He carried two heavy pistols, and both of these we took. And his name was Frederick Auger, as one or two letters showed.

  “And now,” said Mansel, “let’s save the blackguard’s face. Don’t think I want to help him – I’ve seen his type before. He’s German inside and out. But he is a moral coward, as every German is. And that is just what we want. So turn him over and drag him along on his stomach to the wire.

  We did as he said.

  Then Mansel took Auger’s hand and hitched the palm on to a barb on the strand of the wire. And then he pressed the wire down.
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  “And this,” he said, smiling, “is where we clear out at a run.”

  With that, he led the way; and George and I ran behind him, out of the drive and back the way we had come.

  After half a mile or so, Mansel dropped into a walk.

  “Tell me this,” he said. “Do you both understand why I did what I did with Herr Auger?”

  “I think I do,” said George.

  “So do I,” said I, “but I’d rather you said right out.”

  “Those who find him,” said Mansel, “are bound to observe the posture in which he lies. He is lying flat on his face with one hand caught up on the wire. That will at once suggest that, such was his sense of duty, although he was passing out, he managed to crawl to the wire and give the alarm. Now two alarms were given – one at five minutes past one and one at two o’clock. Those who find Auger will assume that he gave the first, that then for fifty-five minutes he did his sentinel stuff and that then he was struck down from behind and gave his lovely performance of ‘Faithful unto death.’ Now if Auger told them the truth – that in fact he gave neither alarm, they would at once perceive that we knew a great deal too much. But, because he is German, he will not tell them the truth. Moral cowardice and vanity will have their way with him: and, rather than let himself down, Auger will let them believe what he knows to be false.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I may be wrong, but I know the Boche pretty well. And if I am right, the enemy will assume that we were only on for two minutes – instead of for more than an hour.

  “And now for the lodge.

  “I didn’t go in, but I had a good look at the hall. This is a strange apartment. It’s some sixty feet long by thirty, and two floors high. The walls are tapestried and the floor is of polished oak. I couldn’t see any doors except at the farther end, where there seemed to be two: but I think there must be others, cut in the tapestry, for I saw no sign of Kleiner and I don’t think he had had time to go the length of the hall before I arrived. Right at the end of the hall there’s a very grand staircase – a broad flight up to a landing some twelve feet high, and from there two flights, one running up to the right and one to the left. It would make a good place to dance in: the band could be up on the landing, out of the way. But it’s not the sort of apartment which you would expect to find in a hunting-lodge. Of course there’s no furniture, but that is natural enough.”

  “No watchman’s chairs?” said I.

  “Not there. That doesn’t altogether surprise me, for the hall is without a fireplace, and watchmen like a fire. Besides, it was the reverse of cosy. Dank, gloomy, cheerless and colder within than without. I should think the tapestries were mouldering; but I couldn’t see details like that, for the only lamp there was hanging down from the ceiling over the stairs. But the smell of decay was unmistakable.

  “Well, then I left the steps and went round the house. Two cars – one of them Forecast’s – stood in the stableyard. But I really went to see if, supposing we came in force, we could approach that way. Quite apart from the man-traps, I don’t think we could – by night. So I crossed the forecourt again and tried the other side. But I don’t think we could make it, except by day.

  “I should like to have placed the guard-room. I should say it’s in one of the rooms on the right or the left of the hall – one of those looking on to the forecourt. And, as I said just now, its door is probably cut in the tapestry. But I could hear no sound, and I saw no light. If I could have used my torch, I might have been able to see where the wire ran in. But of course I couldn’t do that. China didn’t know, because I told Carson to ask him. He couldn’t give any details of what was in store for us. He’d heard Cain and Forecast talking – which was how he knew as much as he did. Still, what we have seen tonight bears out what he said. Their object is to decoy us into that house. But it’s no good getting us in, unless they are ready to receive us: hence the stratagem – the beam confined to the drive to force us to touch the wire. It looks very feeble now, because we have been conducted behind the scenes: but in fact it’s rather clever, for nine out of ten would assume that somewhere or other a sentry was watching the beam.

  “Any way, we’ve got a step farther, for, if we have done little else, we have at least assured them of what they were anxious to know. And that is that we are aware that they are to be found – not at Varvic, but at the end of that drive.”

  “To be perfectly honest,” said George, “I dislike that place; and, to be still more frank, I don’t fancy mixing it there. It is for me the very lair of foreboding. I don’t wonder they’ve chosen it as a place of execution. As such, it has all the qualities. But I hope very much that you won’t endorse their choice.”

  Mansel laughed.

  “You needn’t worry,” he said. “If I can help it, I’ll never do battle there. That place is accursed. They propose to decoy. Well and good. But they are up against time, while we are not. And when they find we’re not playing, they’ll have to do something else. And that will be the moment to help them. After all, two can decoy. And when we take that line, there are several suitable places within two miles of those woods. I confess that a thirst for knowledge took me up to the lodge tonight. And you two unfortunates with me. But in a show like this I set great store by studying the enemy’s methods and all he does. If it does nothing else, it teaches you what to expect. Besides, one day we might have to go there – against our will. And now we know something of the lay-out.”

  “Every time,” said George. “But from the casual way in which you pushed off all alone to smell out the curtilage, I felt that you must be proof against its horrid alarms. And so I felt bound to inform you that in that odious vicinity, do what I will, my morale is not at its best. I don’t believe any dog would approach that place.”

  “The woods are birdless,” I said.

  “That’s quite true,” said Mansel. “I’d noticed that.”

  “Ugh,” said George. “Let’s talk about something attractive, just for a change. I expect Gulf’s planted by now. When is the exhumation? I mean, I’d hate to miss that.”

  “I don’t think,” said Mansel, laughing, “we need go as far as that. But I’d like to know where he lies, for then we can add his passport to his remains. Wrap it up in a bit of oil-silk, and shove it under the turf. Just in case of accidents.”

  “Splendid,” said George. “Just the job to do before breakfast. I’ll tell you what. Let’s try and locate the grave and wait till Biretta comes. If he’s brought his spade and pail with him, we’ll take him there for a run. And then when he’s nearly home, we’ll tell him it’s Gulf.”

  “ If he comes,” said Mansel, “you shall do with him what you will. But don’t take our luck for granted. One of these days the fine weather’s going to break.”

  As though to deny this precept, some eight hours later, Bell drove into Latchet and picked up a wire for Cain. And this was from Biretta, to say that he should reach Villach at half-past two the next day.

  10: And Satan Came Also

  Now though we had spoken lightly the night before, if China had told us the truth and Cain in fact intended to bury Gulf’s body by Latchet, it was important that we should spoil his game. We had certainly told him that, if any body was found, we should go to the British Consul without delay: but we did not want to do that, if for no other reason, because, if we did, the case would pass out of our hands and persons other than we would deal with Cain and the Duke. And Cain was not now in the mood to care about threats. The man must be very near desperate: and the telegram from Collards might well push him over the edge. After all, Bowshot was missing: and if some body was found which bore his name and address, incriminating papers or no, it might be hard to disprove that that body was his.

  China had said on Sunday that Cain was ‘keeping Gulf’ and was ‘going to plant him by Latchet any day now.’ And now it was Wednesday. All things considered, it seemed much more than likely that, during the last two days, the burial had taken place. And since we had nothing to do
until Biretta arrived, George and I set out, with Rowley and Bell, to prove the ground we had proved when first we came, that is to say, the ground which neighboured the path which led from Latchet up to the Salzburg road.

  As we had done in those days, we did again. We took the Salzburg road and we berthed the car in the track which nobody seemed to use. And then we walked up to where the two tracks crossed, to take the second track and so come back to the road. And there our quest was ended before it had fairly begun, for, a few feet beyond the cross, where the track turned into a ride, the turf had been sliced and lifted and then stamped back into place.

  After all, it was not surprising that they had chosen this place. Forecast had excellent reason to remember the second track, and the spot was very private and favoured the work to be done, for a car could be driven right up to the very side of the grave.

  “No doubt about that,” said George. “Get the implements, Rowley. Oh, and take my coat, will you? And shove it into the car.”

  “That’s all right, sir,” said Rowley. “You and Mr Chandos, keep watch. Bell and I’ll do it quicker than you.”

  And so it was.

  As a matter of fact, the business was very soon done, for the body was covered by scarcely a foot of earth. Still, Bell and Rowley were men who never did things by halves, and when Bell came to ask for Gulf’s passport, he gave me a dirty envelope bearing John Bowshot’s address.

  “Well done indeed,” said I.

  “It was easy enough, sir. It was in the first pocket we come to. Shall I put the passport there?”

  “Yes,” said I, and, with that, I took out matches and burned the envelope up.

  Forty-five minutes later we were back at the farm.

  Well before dawn the next morning, Mansel and Carson went out again with the Rolls. According to Mansel, they went ‘to have a look round.’ But when he said that he meant to leave the Rolls at Four Mile Point, I knew that once again he was bound for the hunting-lodge: for, when we had surveyed the country surrounding the lodge, we had always left the cars in a coppice four miles south-east of the place and, for the sake of convenience, had given this spot the name of Four Mile Point.