Dead to the World

by Francis Durbridge

  ‘You should have blown it a little earlier, I think,’ Milton said with steely calm. ‘Take them to the saloon.’

  There they found Thouard with an ugly bruise on his forehead and his arms behind him tied to the shaft of his chair. The chair, like the rest of the furniture, was screwed to the deck.

  ‘Je m’excuse,’ he apologised. ‘I was not careful enough.’

  ‘Nor were we,’ acknowledged Holt quietly.

  Held at gunpoint Hyde and Holt were searched and relieved of their pistols.

  One of the English deckhands eyed the Inspector with huge enjoyment as he kept them all covered with his rifle. ‘Makes a change, don’t it, Inspector?’ he chortled. ‘The larse time it was me and Curly what was up for bein’ in unlawful possession of—’

  ‘Who murdered Curly, Fats?’ Hyde barked. ‘He was a pal of yours, wasn’t he? Who killed him?’

  The man known as Fats gave an oily grin. ‘Now that would be tellin’, wouldn’t it?’

  Wade coughed nervously and straightened his tie. ‘If you’ll permit me to say so, Inspector, it’s a waste of time trying to extract anything from that horrible fellow, or his companion. Miss Sheen and I offered them money but they refused to be helpful.’

  Hyde gave Wade and Antoinette a puzzled stare. ‘Obviously this is not the moment for recriminations, but what the dickens are you two doing on this boat?’

  ‘The same as you – playing cops and robbers!’ said Antoinette, continuing to rub the circulation back into her ankles and wrists. Even under these unfavourable circumstances she managed to look poised and attractive in the blue jeans and thick sweater.

  Wade managed the mere ghost of one of his former smiles. ‘In a manner of speaking we rather foolishly tried to take a leaf out of your book. Julie had mentioned Milton’s yacht, and as I was convinced that he was behind all this mystery I thought we might be able to find some kind of evidence and pin the blame fairly and squarely on him. It was rather a shock to find Legere on board.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Holt meaningfully, with a sidelong glance at Antoinette.

  She laughed derisively. ‘I certainly picked a dud there, I have to admit! In fact, I seem to have quite a talent for doing just that. The man’s a swine and I was an idiot not to see it. Naturally, he wouldn’t let us off the Sunset once we were on board … I always did dream of being abducted aboard some rich old sugar-daddy’s luxury yacht,’ she added wistfully, ‘but I didn’t bargain for being trussed up like a turkey and thrown into a lifeboat.’

  ‘How long had you been in there?’ Hyde asked.

  ‘They tied us up as soon as we sighted the French coast.’

  ‘Did they hurt you much, Antoinette?’ Holt asked her anxiously.

  She shrugged her shoulders and glanced at Wade for confirmation. ‘I’m afraid Henri is not exactly the gentle type.’

  A sound came from the entrance to the saloon. Legere was standing there. ‘The English prisoners are about to have a visitor,’ he reported.

  ‘Who would that be?’ Hyde demanded.

  ‘A man named Christopher … He’s just puffing and panting his way over the ship’s side now.’

  The tension of expectancy rose almost to snapping point as the sound of Milton’s voice, intermingled with another, filtered through to the saloon.

  ‘It can’t be!’ Wade gasped and jumped from his chair but he was cuffed back by a member of the crew. Wildly he glanced from Holt to the Inspector.

  Hyde nodded gravely, and Philip Holt said slowly, ‘I’m afraid it is. I’ve been wondering about the possibility for some time.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Robert Scranton’s gangly form filled the doorway as he took off his hat and brushed some of the rain from his coat. He was having trouble with his breathing and although his keen eyes took in the situation with one shrewd glance it was some moments before he could actually speak. When he did so his tone was quiet.

  ‘Say, that’s quite a gathering you have here, Ashley. Is this the normal uniform of the British police when overseas?’

  Milton entered the saloon behind him. ‘They indulged in a little fancy dress – that’s how they managed to get on board.’

  ‘Very ingenious. Well, let’s not waste any time. Start the engines and get under way. I’ll take the wheel.’

  Milton gave commands to his crew and hurried on deck in Scranton’s wake. One of the French deckhands stayed on guard with a rifle, the other two hurried to their duties, and within a minute the throb of the diesel engines vibrated through the ship’s hull. The limited view through the saloon portholes of dockside cranes and buildings began to change; they were pulling away from the quayside.

  Holt passed the Inspector a wordless message. He pointed unobtrusively to his wristwatch, then spread wide the fingers of one hand and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  Hyde nodded and muttered, ‘Yes, about five, I should think.’

  ‘Silence!’ roared the French guard, brandishing his rifle.

  Antoinette looked at the man coolly and remarked in a casual voice, ‘What an ugly man, don’t you think, Philip?’

  The guard jerked his rifle at her and threw out a stream of abuse.

  ‘Does he speak any English?’ Holt asked.

  She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so, but he has a vile command of his own tongue. He promises to shoot the next one who opens his mouth. Says it’s all the same to him whether we die now or out at sea.’

  The yacht gathered speed and began rolling and pitching as they met choppy cross-currents flowing in from the mouth of the harbour.

  Milton put his head round the door to make sure everything was under control.

  Wade shouted at him, ‘What do you intend doing with us, Milton?’

  ‘What do you expect, my dear fellow?’ Milton was on top of his form, enjoying danger like a hound sniffing the scent of a chase. ‘We shall either put you all to sea in one of the lifeboats when we’re far enough out, or we shall deposit you on some uninhabited rock off the Brittany coast. You won’t be found for weeks, I dare say. You’ll survive, but only just. The Sunset is a very powerful craft, you know – we’ll be hundreds of miles away by then … Good God, what was that!’

  Above the beat of the engines had come a whooshing sound and a huge splash, and the crack of a gun brought them all to their feet. Holt was quick, but Milton even quicker. Holt hurled himself at the guard and sent the rifle flying; Milton jumped backwards out of the saloon, slammed the sliding door and locked it.

  ‘Hit the deck, everyone!’ Holt yelled. He grabbed the rifle and swung the butt hard in the face of the groping French deckhand. The man collapsed like a sack. Antoinette was already at work releasing the Customs Officer. Rifle fire spattered outside as Hyde struggled vainly with the locked door.

  ‘Holt! Blow this thing open with the rifle! We’ve got to get clear of this place before Scranton turns his men loose on the lot of us!’

  Holt fired three times at the lock and there was a tearing of smashed wood and metal, but despite their combined efforts the sliding mechanism seemed jammed. Another heavy warning shot whooshed and exploded over the Sunset’s bows; the boat lurched to starboard, knocking them all off balance.

  Wade was the first to scramble to his feet. He picked up the rifle by its muzzle, muttered a polite ‘I wonder if I may?’ to Holt, and took a vigorous swing at one of the portholes. At the first blow the glass cracked, at the second it splintered, leaving a jagged gash.

  ‘Room for a little one, I think,’ said Wade succinctly, and began squirming his way through.

  ‘See if you can get to the engine room!’ Holt shouted. ‘Pull any lever that says STOP!’

  In the confusion that followed it never became clear whether Wade actually did pull a lever, whether he cowed an engine-hand at the point of the rifle into doing so, or whether the engine-hand acted on Scranton’s instructions from the bridge. At any rate, Scranton must have seen that the game was up. The Sunset began to l
ose way and by the time Holt had battered his way through the porthole two pursuing boats of the Harbour Police – one of them mounted on hydrofoils and capable of speeds over fifty knots, the other equipped with some impressive looking armaments at bow and stern – had come alongside and heavily armed naval police were ordering the Sunset crew to surrender.

  Holt ran to the wheelhouse and discovered Robert Scranton’s gaunt body slumped at the helm. He bent to examine him as Hyde and Antoinette came running up.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘I believe so. But I don’t think he stopped a bullet. I think it was his heart – the excitement was too much for him.’

  Antoinette asked, ‘Would someone mind telling me how he came to be here in Cherbourg?’

  As if in answer the Queen Mary gave a tremendous blast on her siren.

  Hyde said as the echoes died, ‘He obviously just disembarked from the Queen Mary.’

  ‘He made it known that he and his wife were flying back to the States,’ Holt added, ‘but he must have slipped away from the airport at the last moment.’

  ‘So much for Christopher!’ Hyde said with satisfaction. ‘Milton is handcuffed to Legere, and Legere is handcuffed to the ship’s rail. And if that isn’t security enough, guess who’s guarding them both with a rifle?’

  ‘Jimmy Wade?’ guessed Antoinette with a cascade of laughter in which the others joined.

  ‘None other! That little chap’s full of spirit. He looks quite disappointed that it’s all over … Well, shall we go and say “hello” to our friends from the Douane?’

  ‘I thought they were never going to get here,’ admitted Holt. ‘That was the longest five minutes I’ve ever experienced.’

  ‘True enough. But actually they kept pretty much to schedule. The Commissar said it wouldn’t take them more than five minutes to reach us if they saw the Sunset pull away from the quay.’

  ‘Anyway, I was glad to get out of that saloon alive.’

  ‘So were we all.’ Antoinette tucked her arm through Holt’s as they stepped out into the rain. ‘But I wasn’t scared. I knew I could rely on you – you’re a real hunk of a man!’

  The traffic speeding up the Champs Elysées speared the night with diamond brilliance, and the great City was getting into its stride, intent on offering pleasure. In tune with the City a couple strolled towards the garden of the Tuileries and found a bench beneath the trees.

  ‘… Inspector Hyde has more charm than I gave him credit for,’ Antoinette was saying. ‘Fancy letting me fly to Paris in his Beechcraft!’

  Holt smiled at her. ‘We had to come here anyway. The Paris jails are the safest for types like Milton and his crew. Besides, there were a lot of loose ends to be tied up after yesterday’s little fracas at Cherbourg. But don’t let’s talk about that, Antoinette … Have I told you how attractive you look in that new dress?’

  ‘You have, several times … But you can tell me again.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to be a model, Antoinette?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘But I thought every girl in Great Britain between the ages of thirteen and—’

  ‘No – not me.’

  Her eyes looked into his and the theme of murder and fraud which had first brought them together seemed very far away … Her tawny hair, the colour of trees in autumn, fell across his chest and she moved closer to him.

  ‘I don’t recall your looking quite so attractive ever before, unless it was …’

  The fragrance of her perfume had recalled a memory … of a tall brown-skinned girl … in a short white bathrobe … in a salmon-pink bungalow … in the green English countryside …

  When their lips parted after a long embrace her voice was just a whisper. ‘Philip … are you quite sure you still want to “do the Town”?’

  ‘I’m beginning to go off the idea,’ he murmured. ‘Perhaps we should be getting back to the hotel …’

  When they reached the hotel foyer they were greeted by Inspector Hyde. He glanced briefly at Antoinette and placed a hand on Holt’s shoulder.

  ‘I’ve just phoned through to Eastbourne,’ he said. ‘I thought you should know – Ruth’s ill!’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ruth smiled to herself as she read the card that had come with the flowers.

  To Ruth – a Very Efficient Private Eye. Get well soon. Philip.

  A very efficient Private Eye! He had long regarded her as just a very efficient secretary, so she looked upon it as a small promotion.

  She propped the card against the bowl of fruit at her bedside – that was a gift from Inspector Hyde. Now he really was a sweetie! Fancy bothering to telephone her from Paris in the middle of all that excitement.

  After events had taken Hyde and her boss out of the country Ruth had returned to the hotel, somewhat despondent, feeling the first symptoms of a heavy cold. She had spent a disturbed night, kept awake by a headache and the violent storm at sea, picturing a tossing Sunset with its strange assortment of characters on board. Lying in bed the following day had been frustrating. Surrounded by magazines and a depressing array of inhalants, cough pastilles, and cold cures, she had pondered over the Scranton case in detail, wondering what could now be taking place across the Channel on French soil.

  It had not been until Monday evening, when Hyde had telephoned from Paris, that she had been put briefly in the picture, and the next morning the two men had flown back to Eastbourne. Even then she had seen them only momentarily before they dashed off to visit Julie Benson, but they had promised to look in again that afternoon and tell her the full story.

  This prospect made her feel slightly better. She leaned back against the pillows and began to flick through the pages of a magazine.

  Presently there was a tap on the door. Ruth drew a box of man-sized paper handkerchiefs towards her and answered with a sneeze.

  Holt came in first. ‘Hello, Ruth! How are you feeling?’

  ‘Oh, not too bad. I told you, it’s only a cold – nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Well, mind you take care of yourself,’ warned Hyde, following Holt into the room. ‘Don’t go taking any more risks. You’re a very valuable young lady!’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Inspector! But so is the questionable Julie Benson, I’m afraid. How is she?’

  ‘She’s much better. And she’s decided to talk! Yes, we’ve found out quite a lot from Julie Benson.’

  Ruth held her enthusiasm in check just long enough to allow her visitors to be comfortably seated, then she said eagerly, ‘Well, come on – tell me what’s been happening!’

  Hyde summed up briefly. ‘Milton and Legere are safely under lock and key; they have a lot to answer for. Antoinette is absolutely innocent. Julie’s a silly little girl who was in love with Vance and let it cloud her judgement. Wade’s in love with Julie and got himself involved because he was trying to help her.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Is that all?’ said Ruth in exasperation. ‘There must be more to it than that. Tell me the rest!’

  ‘What exactly do you want to know?’

  ‘Everything! Start right at the beginning, Philip, and let’s hear what you’ve found out.’

  Holt did as she asked and, with Hyde’s help, the story gradually unfolded.

  ‘Robert Scranton was an ordinary business man dealing in washing machines. One day he was asked if he’d like to buy a valuable old painting. Scranton was no art expert himself – but his son was. Vance realised it was a forgery but he also recognised the quality of the work, and he and his father decided to look into it further.’

  ‘And then what happened?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘They traced the painting to Dunant in Paris and began to deal in fakes in a big way. That was how it all started.’

  ‘Scranton had a right-hand man in England,’ Hyde explained. ‘That was Ashley Milton, and his job was to control the financial side of things and keep an eye on Vance.’

  ‘Those cheque stubs he showed me—’ Holt put in. �
�They didn’t represent blackmail money at all, they were the sums he’d been paying Dunant; through Vance, of course.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Hyde continued, ‘business boomed and Milton bought a yacht; they used it to cruise round the world at intervals, looking for potential markets for the paintings. The organisation gradually expanded and eventually Scranton disappeared behind the code name of Christopher.’

  ‘But whatever made Vance kill that student at the College?’ asked Ruth, her interest mounting.

  ‘For some reason or other Vance wanted to quit,’ Holt told her. ‘But Milton wouldn’t hear of it and he cabled Scranton in America. As soon as Vance knew his father was coming over to England he decided that the only way to get out of his clutches was to fake his own death.’

  ‘Go on …’

  ‘So he invited Graham Brown to his study on the night of the concert – when he knew Scholars’ Row would be deserted – and saw to it that Graham got there first. All Vance had to do was walk in and shoot him, fake the evidence, and then simply disappear.’

  ‘I’m with you so far,’ Ruth nodded, suppressing a sneeze. ‘What next?’

  ‘Julie Benson was still very much in love with Vance and she promised to keep his secret and help him all she could. Milton suspected what had happened and put the pressure on Vance, via Julie. He threatened to hound him to the ends of the earth unless he returned the ring.’

  ‘Yes, but why all the fuss about the ring – did you find out about that?’

  ‘Yes.’ Hyde took up the explanation. ‘Scranton had two rings made. One was kept by Dunant in Paris, and the other by Vance in England. They used the rings to make special impressions on various documents and parcels, as a means of identification and to convey certain information. So you see, the ring assumed a vital significance, and that’s why everyone seemed to be trying to lay their hands on it.’

  Ruth herself fitted another piece into the mental jigsaw puzzle. ‘In fact, Vance couldn’t buy his freedom because he didn’t have the ring; he’d already given it to Antoinette … And Julie broke into her bungalow in an attempt to get it back, but she couldn’t find it!’