‘Ackroyd?’ responded Henry. ‘My friend, if we thought that, with that pretty Visitors’ List on the wall there, we shouldn’t stop to argue. Nearly every fellow on that damned list has been nabbed.’
‘Well, I know that! But that’s Ackroyd’s work. And I’m not Ackroyd, so what’s your grouch?’
‘Yes, yes, we know you’re not Ackroyd,’ interposed Brant. ‘But who are you? Who are you when you’re not Smith, of No. 17? And why—yes, tell me this—why didn’t you give us, and all those fellows on that list there, a hint when you dropped out, and Ackroyd slipped in, to play double-face? Where have you been these last six months?’
‘In quod!’ growled Smith, wondering what his chances would be if he hurled the tray at Henry and jumped upon Brant.
But Henry was watching him for the slightest movement, and Smith was too old a bird to act rashly on impulse. Impulse had urged him to finish off that fellow upstairs, but wisdom had made him patient. Impulse now urged him to go for these two fools, but again wisdom said, ‘Wait. Keep your eyes open. Your chance will come.’
‘No monkey-tricks, Smith,’ said Henry quietly. ‘You see, Brant! He’s been in quod for six months. So, of course, he couldn’t keep up this game at No. 17, could he? I told you. But what was he put into quod for? Because of No. 17? Oh, no. He was put in quod because a man of his Napoleonic genius always has more than one iron in the fire. And Smith has another name—the name of Mike Sheldrake—’
‘You think you’re a damned fine orator, don’t you?’ interrupted Smith savagely. ‘But what’s all this about, anyway? Suppose I am Sheldrake? Very well. What of it?’
‘I’ll tell you, in a moment, if you’ll keep cool,’ pursued Henry relentlessly. ‘No—don’t lower that tray yet. We’re dead serious. Aren’t we, Brant?’
‘You bet,’ muttered Brant.
‘You were in quod, Mr Sheldrake-Smith, for the theft of the Suffolk necklace, value forty thousand pounds. The necklace they knew you’d stolen, though you’d hidden it by the time you were nabbed.’
‘Yes—I hid it all right.’
‘You did, all right. So they let you escape last week—’
‘What’s that?’ cried Smith, genuinely astonished. ‘They let—? Who let me escape?’
‘Why, our dear friend Barton—the fellow who’s sworn he’ll get that necklace back, or give up the service. One of his little brain-waves. As his men couldn’t find the necklace, they decided to let you find it for them. Got it straight now, Smith?’
Smith looked at Henry searchingly.
‘Oh—they did—did they?’ he answered slowly. ‘Well—I haven’t found it.’
‘I think you have,’ returned Henry coolly. ‘That necklace is in this house.’
‘It is? You know a damned lot about it, don’t you?’
‘You bet I do. I know where to pick up information, Sheldrake, and I know how to hang on a chap that’s wanted—’
‘Ah!’ interposed Nora. She had been listening with thinly veiled contempt on her face. ‘That telegram from Barton—“Sheldrake moving.” Now I’m beginning to understand. If Barton’s after the jewels—’
‘Exactly,’ cried Smith. ‘If Barton’s after the jewels, my beauties, there’ll be nothing but skilly for any of us!’
Henry laughed. ‘Don’t you worry,’ he observed amusedly. ‘Barton never sent that telegram.’
‘How do you know?’
‘For a quite excellent reason. I sent it myself.’
Astonished eyes were turned on him. Smith remained silent, but Nora and Brant both ejaculated, ‘You?’
‘Yes, I,’ nodded Henry. ‘Alone I did it. Of course, we can none of us vie with our dear friend Sheldrake-Smith here—that’s not to be expected—but I possess my modest share of Napoleonic qualities. I sent that telegram because, while I was not quite sure of the position here, I wanted to keep that fellow Ackroyd out of the way. I told him to stay where he was—to lie low—’
‘Wait a minute,’ exclaimed Brant, making no effort to disguise the confusion he was in. He had no Napoleonic qualities. ‘You say you weren’t quite sure of the position here. Well, how much did you know? Why, if you sent that telegram to Ackroyd, you must have known all about his double-cross here—’
‘Yes, yes, but I only tumbled to it last night,’ interrupted Henry a little impatiently. ‘My simple object was to keep Ackroyd away from here. You’ll admit, we didn’t want him?’
‘No. But he came!’
‘Because my wire missed him.’
‘I think you might have told us all this before, Henry,’ suggested Nora.
‘My dear sister,’ retorted Henry blandly, ‘I had other fish to fry. I’ll be quite glad to get out of this unpleasant house, and even of this unpleasant country, but my first object in coming here was to come after Sheldrake—as Sheldrake has come after the diamonds.’
‘Oh,’ fumed Smith, ‘so that was your object, was it?’
‘Yes. I’m quite a smart fellow, don’t you agree? When the authorities let you escape, you led their ’tecs a devil of a dance through six counties, and you shook ’em all off—but you didn’t shake me off. Remember a face at a window, in a little inn Leyton way, that rather disturbed you at lunch yesterday? I was a bit careless then, I admit. But, luckily for me, you thought you were safe in this fog, and so you came along here. So did I. I tracked you last night to this very room—’
‘What?’
‘Yes, and I hid behind those curtains over there, while you poked around and cursed to find out what Ackroyd had been doing in your absence. I know that necklace is in this house, Brant, whatever he says, because more than once he went out of this room and began going about the place. But he always came back in a mighty hurry—I expect he’d heard that darned sailor, or it might have been Ackroyd pottering around. Anyway, at last he decided to postpone the hunt—and off he went to wait for a more opportune time.’
‘Which was this afternoon,’ nodded Brant.
‘Exactly. And, of course, I came back too—and, thanks to meeting you and my charming sister on the doorstep, here I am. And—that’s my story.’
He turned to Smith, and Brant now whipped his revolver out of his pocket.
‘You’re beaten, Sheldrake!’ cried Brant greedily. ‘Don’t make a fuss. Trot out the goods.’
‘So you’re in this too?’ demanded Smith, rounding on him.
‘Yes. We’re all in it. We’ve come in on the last lap—eh, Henry?—and it’s ten thousand pounds apiece, I reckon. Come along, now. Let’s have a look at ’em!’
Smith’s brain worked furiously. He glanced at Nora, but saw there was no help from that quarter. Brant began to approach him.
‘You keep off!’ Smith exclaimed fiercely. ‘Do you suppose I keep the things on my watch-chain?’
‘No, we don’t,’ responded Henry, rising from his chair. ‘But what about your pockets?’ He winked at Brant. ‘Pull the trigger, Brant, if he moves a muscle.’
‘I will, don’t you worry,’ muttered Brant. ‘I’m taking no chances.’
Henry slipped his hand into his pocket, and took out a pair of handcuffs.
‘I rather fancy these will come in useful,’ he suggested. ‘Slip your hands together, Sheldrake, and I’ll fix you.’
Smith glared at him, and suddenly gave a shout.
‘Handcuffs, eh?’ he cried, He swung round to Brant. ‘You poor boob!’ he roared. ‘You were born to be double-crossed, you were! Don’t you see, you’re being double-crossed again—?’
‘Eh?’ jerked Brant. ‘Now then—’
‘Oh, you fool, you fool!… Do you want this tray in your face, Henry?… Brant, didn’t they ever teach you addition—?’
‘Stop that!’ commanded Henry, advancing quickly.
‘Look out for him, Brant,’ shouted Smith, backing. ‘Cover him, Brant!’ Brant paused and wavered. ‘Look—he’s got out the handcuffs! He’s a detective. He’s Barton!’
And the next instant he hurled the
tray in his opponent’s face.
25
Into the Tunnel
Smith’s aim was good. Before his rival could recover, both Brant and Smith were on him.
‘This is damned nonsense!’ gasped the overpowered man.
‘No, it’s not nonsense!’ chattered Brant wildly. ‘You keep quiet now, or you’ll get that bullet! That telegram—why did you sign it Barton?’
‘Told you—to keep Ackroyd away!’ panted the victim, as he was born down by the superior strength of Smith. ‘By God, Sheldrake—’
‘Yes, yes, but you knew all about Ackroyd,’ cried Brant, now seizing the handcuffs as they dropped from their owner’s clutch. ‘And the tunnel—’
‘Of course he knew,’ barked Smith. ‘It was his business to know. Don’t talk, Brant—slip ’em on him. I’ve got his hands.’ Brant obeyed. ‘Yes, “Henry,” and you’ve done with talking for a while, too,’ added Smith with a savage grin.
‘I tell you, Brant, you’re making a mistake—’
‘Yes, I made a mistake when I trusted you!’ retorted Brant.
‘You did,’ said Smith, as he gagged the unfortunate man. ‘You might have known he was a ’tec, sneaking in here after me last night … There, now his mouth’s closed. And, as he’s so fond of that little spot behind the curtain there, he can go back to it. Here, hobble his feet first with the strap off that bag, Brant. You see, we’ve got every convenience here! Quick, now—you’ve not forgotten you’ve a train to catch.’
‘Haven’t we any decent feeling left?’ murmured Nora, who had stood apart, a silent, tragically contemptuous witness.
‘Don’t listen to her, Smith,’ exclaimed Brant. ‘Here’s the strap … Damn it all, she can’t expect us to be gentle with a detective—and Barton, of all people.’ They carried him to the curtain, and deposited him behind it. ‘There—that settles him. When’s that train go, Smith?’
Smith consulted his watch. ‘Another six minutes,’ he said, turning to Nora.
‘God! We’re in a tight corner,’ muttered Brant. ‘We’ve got to make a dash for it, and no mistake.’
‘Yes, we’d be a nice little haul for the police, wouldn’t we? What do they want you for, Nora?’
‘Oh, what does it matter?’ exclaimed Nora.
‘Post-office robbery,’ said Brant not sorry to be informative. It was pleasant to recall that he had got the better of somebody.
‘Post-office robbery!’ laughed Smith. ‘I’ll teach you a bigger game than that, Nora!’ He asked Brant, ‘Get much?’
‘That’s my affair,’ retorted Brant.
‘As you like,’ answered Smith, shrugging his shoulders. ‘And I reckon this train’s your affair too. So—’
‘Yes, yes, but wait a moment,’ interposed Brant anxiously. ‘I—that is—well look here, Smith—what about that necklace?’
‘That’s my affair,’ said Smith.
‘Oh, yes, of course, but—’
‘You don’t really suppose the diamonds are here, do you?’ cried Smith suddenly. ‘I don’t believe that’s a head you’ve got at all, Brant—it’s a bit of soap! My job’s to put people off the scent, not on it. And your train’s due. Going on it?’
The two men looked at each other. Brant, alone, was helpless, and he knew he was helpless. Well, well—better accept the situation. ‘But damn him,’ he thought. ‘Those big fellows have all the luck!’
‘Going on it?’ repeated Smith.
‘All right, all right,’ snapped Brant. ‘Don’t get huffy. Open your gate!’
Brant’s hand had gone into his pocket. Smith smiled amusedly.
‘So we don’t trust each other even yet, do we?’ he observed.
‘Oh, get on with it, do!’
‘Yes—if you’ll go over to that wall first.’
‘What’s wrong with the level?’ queried Brant.
Side by side, they walked to the wall with the shutter. Smith laughed, as he began to work the mechanism. Brant watched him with interest.
‘What’s the magic word, eh?’ he inquired.
‘Look, and you’ll see,’ answered Smith.
‘Clever bit of mechanism,’ said Brant. ‘Does it work from outside too?’
‘Yes—both the trap and the door—when you know the combination.’
As he spoke, the trap in the floor opened, and Brant turned towards it with a little shiver. He glanced at Smith again, then jerked his head towards Nora.
‘God, it’s the hell of a hole,’ he muttered. ‘You go first, Nora.’
‘I’m not going with you, Uncle,’ answered Nora quietly.
‘What?’ exclaimed Brant. ‘Not going with me?’
‘No.’
Brant threw up his hands in despair, as he heard the colliding of trucks from below.
‘What’s happened to everybody today?’ he demanded. ‘Stop this fooling! We’ve got to look lively.’
‘Yes,’ nodded Smith, with a queer smile. ‘Those who are going had better hurry. Listen—when those trucks stop banging …’ He paused. Then, when all was silent down the smoking hole, he said sharply, ‘Now’s your chance, Brant. Miss this, and you may have to wait another day—and quite a lot can happen in twelve hours.’
‘Nora,’ coaxed Brant, ‘come on. You’ll be caught like a rat in a trap, if you stay here.’
‘I’ve quite made up my mind,’ she replied.
‘But what’s the reason?’
‘When I told you I’d finished with you, Uncle, you didn’t think I meant it. But I did mean it. We may as well say good-bye inside this room as anywhere else.’
‘You’ve been putting her up to this, Smith,’ challenged Brant.
‘She is free to do as she likes,’ responded Smith. ‘Do you really want to stay, Nora?’
‘Yes,’ answered Nora faintly, after a short pause.
‘Good. You shall,’ remarked Smith. ‘Two to one again, Brant. You can never get the odds, can you?’
In impotent exasperation, Brant strode to the trap-door. He looked down into the unsavoury hole, and at the steep, ladder-like steps that descended into it. Then, suddenly, he began to climb down. Just before he vanished he raised his head and shouted, ‘To hell with you both!’ Smith laughed jeeringly back.
Brant was gone. Now, apart from the gagged man behind the curtain, Smith and Nora were alone. She looked at him apprehensively as he kicked the broken bottle and glasses into a corner, and produced a fresh bottle from the cupboard. He walked leisurely, thoroughly enjoying the position, and his mastery of it. Placing the fresh bottle on the table, and still without a word, he returned to the cupboard for glasses. These too he placed on the table, smiling to himself all the time, and watching the girl out of the corner of his eye.
Then, with a grunt of satisfaction, he approached her.
‘Keep off!’ she cried sharply.
‘I reckon I’ve kept off long enough,’ he retorted.
‘Yes, but wait! Don’t misunderstand me!’
‘Misunderstand you?’ He laughed. ‘Oh no! I don’t misunderstand you.’
‘Keep off—keep off, I say,’ she repeated, backing as he continued to approach. ‘Do you hear?’
‘Well, I was born with two ears,’ he replied. ‘You’ve got some spirit in you, haven’t you? Well, I like a girl with spirit. I’ve wanted one for six months.’
‘And maybe you’ll have to want a little longer yet,’ she shot back at him. ‘We’ve not settled our terms yet, you know.’
Smith’s brows darkened slightly.
‘Now then—don’t be a little fool!’ he said. ‘You didn’t expect I was going to wrap you up in cotton-wool, did you? Or—have you some other game on? Aren’t you accepting my offer?’
Nora hesitated. ‘Yes—but on terms,’ she answered, in a low voice.
‘Terms!’ repeated Smith contemptuously. ‘What terms?’
‘Keep your distance, and I’ll tell you.’
He looked at her, and then at the table with its pleasant invitation
.
‘Oh, well, why not?’ he exclaimed, going to the table. ‘Our time’s our own. Those fools upstairs can wait till they rot, for all I care.’
‘Yes, it’s—it’s about them I want to speak,’ said Nora.
‘Well, go ahead. Only have a drink first.’ He poured out a glass, and held it towards her. She shook her head. ‘Stubborn, eh? Oh, well, just as you like.’ He drained the glass, and smacked his lips. ‘That’s better than the stuff they’ve been giving me lately. Fire away, my girl. What are these terms of yours?’
She faced him squarely.
‘My terms are these, Smith,’ she said, ‘and no less. You don’t hurt a hair on the head of anyone in this house. You let me go up and set free those people upstairs—they won’t hurt me—and you unbind that detective behind the curtain, and put him outside this room.’
Smith regarded her admiringly.
‘Quite an ultimatum!’ he pronounced. ‘Very pretty! And what do we do? You and me?’
‘Oh—anything you like!’ she responded. ‘The Continent—anywhere we can get. But we start at once.’
Smith drained a second glass, and rose.
‘Yes, by God, we’ll start at once!’ he cried, while the wine flowed pleasantly through him. ‘And we’ll make a fine team? That’s the idea, Nora—clear out of the country—break new ground!’ He paused suddenly, and looked at her thoughtfully, unpleasantly. ‘Yes, but many a poor bird has been winged on its way to the Continent. That’s all in the future! Look here,’ he went on, drawing closer, ‘if I agree to your terms, as you call them, what do I get—now? Now?’
‘Now?’ murmured Nora, drawing back.
‘Yes, now!’ He stretched forward abruptly, and caught hold of her arm. ‘Nora, give me a kiss!’
‘No—I won’t!’ she answered, her voice trembling.
‘Won’t? I tell you, if you don’t you know what’ll happen to that guy of yours upstairs. Oh, don’t look so high and mighty! Do you think I’ve not got eyes, and a brain? Do you think I care a damn about those others—or about that fellow behind the curtain there? Come, give me a kiss. One can only dream of kisses in prison!’
He tried to draw her towards him, but she pushed him away.
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