They walked back past the inn, where a single light was still burning in one of the windows, and a few moments later discovered the bushes into which Gregory had blundered the night before. Following these they arrived at the gully under the railway embankment, where he had lain hidden, and decided that it was as good a spot as any from which to observe the operations of the smugglers.
They had been settled down there for about twenty minutes when they caught the noise of a car approaching from inland down the lonely road. It halted outside the inn and soon afterwards the shadowy figures of a little group of men appeared on the landing ground. There was a hissing sound and suddenly a bright flare lit the scene, then the watchers saw that the men were planting big acetylene cylinders in the T' shaped formation, to indicate the direction of the wind. A few moments more and all the flares were burning brightly.
Wells and Gregory sat tight, knowing that no time would be wasted now the flares had been lit and, within a few moments, they heard the roar of an aeroplane engine as it approached from the northwest.
The plane landed and they recognised it as the four seater which both of them had seen leave Quex Park on the previous night. A tall figure descended from it and limped up to the men by the flares. Evidently it was the Limper's business to see each cargo safely landed and sent on to its unknown destination.
Next, there was a rumble on the road. Gregory and Wells could not see them but, as it ceased somewhere beyond the inn, they guessed that the fleet of lorries had arrived with the crews who, would hump the illicit cargo, and about thirty more men came on to the ground in groups of twos and threes. A new note now came from high up in the sky to eastward, a steady drone which rapidly grew louder, then one by one the de Havillands, lightless but obviously well practised in making night landings at this secret base, came bouncing forward out of the heavy darkness to land in the glare of the flares.
A group of men ran over to each plane as its propellers ceased to twinkle and began to unload its cargo with well drilled precision. Then, as the last plane landed, there came the puff, puff, puff of the midnight train, and the earth quivered below the embankment until its driver brought it to a standstill.
Wells touched Gregory upon the elbow and began to back away down the gully. Gregory followed, and when they were out of earshot the Inspector whispered: 'We've got to get over the bank far side of the train so they can't see us by those beastly lights. Then we'll try and get into one of the wagons unobserved.'
Climbing the wire fence, they crawled up the steep slope, crossed the permanent way on hands and knees, slid down the other side, and made their way back to the place where the train was standing.
Intense activity was now in progress on the far side of it. The men were hurling out the boxes from its foremost wagons. Wells scaled the bank again and slung himself up on to one of the rear trucks but found it padlocked. Gregory tried another with the same disappointing result. Dropping off, the two men conferred again in whispers.
'They won't unlock the doors of the vans on this side,' Gregory muttered.
'No. Got to take a chance on being spotted and reach the boxes,' Wells replied. 'Come on, let's get beneath the train and wait our opportunity.'
They crawled between the wheels, Wells leading, then a little way along, until they were below some couplings where two of the, vans were hitched to one another. The smugglers were hard at work unloading within a few feet of them. The planes which had first arrived, now emptied of their cargo, were already leaving.
One of the wooden cases, which the smugglers were pitching out of the wagons, caught in the rough grass only about a third of the way down the embankment. Wells craned his neck to see the markings on it but the side towards him was in deep shadow. He poked his head out from below the train and took a quick glance round. The men were sweating and cursing as they heaved other cases down the bank. Speed seemed to be the essence of the whole operation and they evidently knew it. The drill, as the Inspector saw it, was that less than half an hour should elapse between the lighting of the flares to show the landing ground, and their extinction; while the train paused on its journey for about seven minutes only.
Gerry Wells decided to take a chance. Praying to all his gods that if the men saw him in the semidarkness they would take him to be one of themselves, he slipped out from beneath the train and, drawing himself upright, launched himself upon the stranded case. As he heaved it up to throw it down among the rest, he tried to read the big label which was tacked to its top, before it left his hands.
'Hi!' a shout came out of the darkness in his rear. 'What's that feller doing there?' It was the driver or the fireman who had witnessed his sudden appearance from underneath the train.
Instantly the mob of workers dropped their cases and turned towards him. Next moment a new voice called from the bottom of the embankment. 'You there come here else I'll plug you.'
A torch flashed out, and Gregory, who was still concealed under the train, an immobile witness of the scene, saw that the order came from the Limper.
For a second Gregory's hand closed on the butt of his automatic, but this was England. If he shot the fellow all sorts of unpleasantness would result. He shifted his grip swiftly to his torch instead and silently drew himself up between the two coaches. Then, before Wells had time to answer, he flung it with all his force and unerring aim straight at the Limper's head.
'Run, man!' Gregory shouted, as the torch struck the Limper full on the forehead. 'Run!'
The Limper went down under the impact of the missile. Wells leapt on to the permanent way, but the man who had first spotted the Inspector sprang from the step of the engine cab and grabbed him round the waist.
Next moment the Limper was on his feet again, yelling blasphemous instructions to his men as half a dozen of them closed in on Gregory.
He laid one of them out with a blow behind the ear and tripped another who went plunging head over heels down the embankment.
Wells had torn himself from the grip of the man who had jumped off the train and turned to Gregory's assistance, but below them now the smugglers were running from all directions, throwing themselves over the fence and scrambling up the bank. The Inspector hit out valiantly but he could not reach Gregory, who had been dragged to the ground. A second later he too was hurled off his feet by the rush of a dozen brawny ruffians. He went down with a thud, one of the men kicked him in the ribs and another, kneeling on his back, pinioned his arms behind him.
16
Hideous Night
Bruised and half stunned from their desperate struggle the two men were lugged to their feet and thrust down the bank. Half a hundred threatening figures milled round them, their scowling faces lit by the glare of the torches. Pilots, loaders, and the men off the train all left their jobs to crowd about the captives. Every man on the secret base arrived at the scene of the excitement where they jostled together muttering hoarse questions.
A tall figure elbowed his way through the press. 'Silence!' he thundered. 'Stand back there. I'll attend to this.'
It was the Limper. The men gave way before him, forming a semicircle, while he stood in its centre glowering at the prisoners, a little trickle of blood oozing from his forehead where Gregory's torch had cut it.
'You, you, you, you,' he jabbed his finger at four husky fellows, 'take these birds over to the inn. The rest of you get back to work. This upset's put us two minutes behind schedule. You've got to make it up. To work! Like blazes now!'
The four men thrust Gregory and the Inspector forward. The Limper followed close behind with the sharp warning: 'No tricks now. I'll shoot you in the back the instant you try anything.'
The breath having been kicked and beaten out of their bodies they were in no state at the moment to do more than stagger along between their captors; even if they had been mad enough to think of attempting a breakaway.
At the inn they were dragged into the little bar parlour and the door slammed to behind them. The fat landlord was st
ill behind his bar and the handsome knife thrower of Trouville, now in airman's kit, leaned against it drinking a tot of brandy.
'Q'est ce qu'il-y-a,' he exclaimed, as the others tumbled into the room.
'Spies,' snapped the Limper. 'Caught trying to board the train. Preventative officers I expect; we'll soon find out.'
The Frenchman evidently understood English. An evil little smile twitched at his lips. With a single jerk he drew a murderous looking knife from his sleeve. 'Espions, hein,' he murmured. 'Ca s'arrange tres simplement.'
'Stop that, Corot.' The Limper jerked his hand out swiftly at the Frenchman's knife. 'This is not the place. Now you,' he swung on Gregory, 'what's your little game?'
Gregory pulled himself together as well as he could with the two thugs still hanging on his arms. 'What's yours?' he blustered, 'that's more to the point. We've got no game. We were just lost in the marshes. Seeing the lights we came over to ask if you could put us on our road again; but before we had time to open our mouths we were set upon.'
'That's a lie,' said the landlord, leaning forward over his bar. 'The two of them were here at nine o'clock. Said they were attached to the Ordnance Department and on their way to spend the night at Lydd.'
'So we were,' Gregory protested hotly, 'but our car broke down and we tried to get back here to telephone. We took what we thought was a short cut and lost ourselves. We've been tumbling about in dykes and ditches for hours.'
'That's so,' Wells affirmed, glaring with feigned indignation at the Limper. 'You may be the boss of this gang of railway workers, employed on special night construction that's being kept dark by the Government for some purpose, but that doesn't give you the right to manhandle people. If you don't let us go at once I'll report this matter to the police.'
It was a gallant attempt to persuade the Limper that they had no idea of his real business; but at the sound of Wells's voice Corot took a few mincing steps forward, peered into the Inspector's face, and then began to laugh; a low unpleasant chuckle.
'What's bitten you?' the Limper asked him.
He shrugged. 'Tiens! C'est ce scelerat de Scotland Yard avec qui nous nous sommes brouille a Trouville.' Then he turned, stared at Gregory for a moment and added: 'Et voila! Iautre.'
His knife slid out again. With a vicious snarl he raised it remembering how Gregory's intervention had prevented his attack on Wells succeeding the last time they had been face to face.
As the blade flashed high above Corot's head Gregory jerked himself backwards but, before the knife came down, the Limper grabbed the Frenchman's arm.
'Not here,' he said sharply. 'Your planes are leaving. Get back to them and see them home. I'll handle this and I'll see these two never worry us again. I'll croak the two of them before morning but it's got to be done in the proper way; so there's no trouble for us afterwards.'
Corot's handsome face went sullen, like that of a greedy child who has been robbed of an entertainment, but he shrugged, spat on the floor at Gregory's feet and, turning, slouched out of the inn.
'Search them,' snapped the Limper, raising his automatic a little, as an indication that he meant to shoot if they tried to break away, while his four henchmen ran through their pockets.
Pistols, night glasses, torches, letters and money were piled upon the drink puddled bar. When they were held firm again the Limper glanced through the papers; then stuffed them in his jacket.
'Quick march now,' he ordered. 'Take them to my plane.'
The prisoners were hustled out into the night and across the grass. The smuggler fleet was leaving; only four planes remained now upon the landing ground. The men were busily transporting the cargo from the railway embankment to the fleet of lorries beyond the inn; the train had gone.
A four seater monoplane stood a little apart from the big de Havillands. The Limper scrambled into it, dived down to a locker near the floor, and pulled out some lengths of cord. 'Truss them up,' he said, 'then push them into the back of the plane.'
Gregory and Wells were securely tied hand and foot; then bundled in behind. One of the men got into the plane with them and the Limper went off to supervise the departure of the convoy. At short intervals the other planes roared away into the air. The landing ground was now in darkness and the lorries began to rumble down the road; the smugglers had disappeared when the Limper returned and climbed into the pilot's seat.
He slammed the door and pressed home the self-starter. The plane ran forward, bumped a little and lifted, then with a steady hum it sailed away lightless into the night.
Gregory was hunched on his side in a back seat but his face was turned towards one of the windows of the enclosed plane and he could see a good section of the sky. After they had been flying for a few moments he managed to pick up one of the major constellations, and knew, from its position, that they were flying in a north-westerly direction, towards Quex Park. His agile mind began to conjure frantically with the possibilities of drawing Mrs. Bird's attention to their wretched plight so that she could secure help.
Mrs. Bird and Milly would be in bed by now though, he remembered, as it was well after midnight, probably somewhere near one o'clock. The Limper would certainly do nothing to rouse them from their slumbers and he had spoken of seeing to it that his prisoners were both dead before the morning.
Gregory had faced death many times, but on those previous occasions his hands had been free and generally there had been a handy weapon in one of them. This was a different business altogether. They were trussed like Christmas turkeys for the slaughter and must depend upon their wits alone to save them.
As they were not gagged, they could, of course, scream in the hope of rousing Mrs. Bird but, whereas a few nights before she might have telephoned the police at once upon hearing shouts for help, she would now more probably wait to investigate the matter or see what happened next, knowing that Wells and his men had the Park under observation.
What about Wells's men who would be watching the place? They would be certain to appear on the scene if they thought murder was being done, but unfortunately both of them were stationed outside the Park gates, and it was nearly a mile in width. Would the most lusty shouts carry half that distance? Gregory doubted it; moreover, it seemed certain the Limper would shoot them out of hand if they bellowed for help. They would be dead long before anyone arrived upon the scene.
The situation began to assume a far grimmer aspect in his mind. From the moment when he had gone down under the rush of men, every second had been occupied until now, so he had not had a chance to realise the full danger in which they stood. No one except Wells and himself knew of the secret landing ground at Romney Marshes, or what their intentions had been when they left Quex Park, so no one would worry about them if they failed to turn up until a day or two, at least, had elapsed without news of them. Then the police would begin to wonder where Wells had got to; but that was little comfort if they were to be killed before morning.
The plane banked steeply and began to descend. Beads of perspiration broke out on Gregory's forehead. 'We're there already,' he thought, 'this plane must be a mighty fast one, or else it's just that time rushes by when you need it most. And I've thought of nothing. We may be for it now any moment once we land. By Jove! this is tougher than anything I can remember.'
They scarcely felt the bump as the Limper landed’ the plane and it flashed through Gregory's mind that the fellow was a first-class pilot. The engine ceased to hum and for a moment there was dead silence then the Limper opened the door of the cockpit and wriggled out. The beam of a torch showed from near by and a new voice came out of the darkness.
'He's on his way over.'
'Good,' replied the Limper. 'I've got them both here. Get 'em out and bring 'em inside.'
The Limper's assistant pilot leaned over and grabbed Wells by the shoulders, hoisted him up and pushed him head foremost through the door, where two other fellows seized him and pulled him to the ground. A minute later Gregory was bundled out beside him.
>
He wriggled his head and looked around. A gentle wind was blowing which brought with it the salt tang of the sea. No lights were to be seen anywhere, and no dark groups of trees, such as he had expected, broke the starry sky line in any direction. Perhaps he had been wrong about their course being to the north-eastward; at all events it did not seem as though they had landed in Quex Park.
Before he had further time for speculation the cords about their feet were undone and they were jerked upright. Limper's assistant pilot and the two new men pushed them forward, while he brought up the rear, lighting their way now and again with flashes from a torch.
After a few moments they came to a wire fence, through which the prisoners were pulled, and then to a steep embankment. On its flat summit they tripped and stumbled across a double railway line, slid down the further bank across another fence, and so into a field. They tramped on for two hundred yards, slightly down hill, then came to a wooden paling. One of the men unlatched a gate and the party tramped up a brick pathway, through a kitchen garden, to a small dark cottage.
Round at its side a chink of light showed beneath an ill-fitting door on which the Limper gave three single and then a double rap. It was pulled open by a seedy looking man in corduroy trousers who, judging by his cauliflower ears and broken nose, might at one time have been a pugilist.
The room had an old-fashioned fireplace and oven let into one wall and a smaller room which led off it, barely larger than a cupboard, was obviously the scullery; otherwise the place was furnished as a living room although it probably served the purpose of kitchen as well.
The man with the cauliflower ears shut the door after them and bolted it quickly, then he shot a shifty glance at the two prisoners, and asked somewhat unnecessarily and, Gregory noted, ungrammatically: 'These them?'
'Yes,' said the Limper, signing to the others to stand Wells and Gregory at the farthest end of the room up against the whitewashed wall. Then he lowered himself with a sigh into a worn saddlebag armchair.
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