When they had faced each other at the Brown Owl Inn Gregory had still been half dazed from the blows he had received in the scrap so this was the first opportunity he had really to study the Limper. The man was obviously a much better type than the average professional crook. He had good grey eyes under straight rather heavy brows and a direct glance with none of the apprehension about it noticeable in that of the flashy 'con' man who is always anticipating a detective's touch on the shoulder. The Limper did not boast an Oxford accent but his voice was an educated one and had a crisp note in it which comes from the habit of command. Only the thin, discontented mouth, which turned down a little at the corners, betrayed a certain hardness in his nature and, perhaps, explained his choice of occupation. Gregory summed him up as the product of one of the lesser public schools, who had slipped up somewhere, perhaps in business, or possibly in one of the services. At all events he did not look at all a killer type and Gregory racked his wits for a good opening, whereby he might possibly arouse sympathy, but Wells forestalled him.
Although he was a younger man than Gregory his professional duties had brought him into quite as many roughhouses and was a courageous fellow; but his thoughts during the brief journey in the plane had been far from comforting.
He knew, although Gregory did not, that his Superintendent would have his report on Gregory's operations the night before by now, and be aware that they had both set off again for the Brown Owl Inn on Romney Marshes. His people would, therefore, become very active indeed if they did not hear from him again by midday, but that was little comfort if they were both to be wiped out in an hour or so. He took the bull by the horns and began to lie like a trooper.
'I think this has gone far enough,' he said evenly, 'unless you want to make things far worse for yourself. We've been on your trail for days and we know all about you. Headquarters have got all your addresses so they can pull you in any time they want to, and if my report's not in by six o'clock in the morning the Flying Squad will be out on a round up. It's no good thinking you'll get away by crossing the Channel in your plane either, because the French police have got a line on your outfit the other side, so you'll be pinched on landing.'
The Limper stared at him with open disbelief. 'That's a pretty story, Inspector, but I'm afraid it won't wash. Even if it were true there's nothing to stop me avoiding any net you may have spread by flying to Holland after I've settled your business.'
'Perhaps, but they'll get you in the end, don't you worry.' Wells leaned forward impressively. 'They'll get you, and you'll swing for it as sure as my name's Wells, if you do us in.!
'It doesn't rest with me, the Limper shrugged, 'so you might as well save the argument. I brought you here under instructions, that's all, and the Big Chief should be here at any moment. It's for him to say whether you go down the chute or if he can think of other means of silencing you.'
There was a horrid silence which lasted nearly a couple of minutes while the Limper pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The men who had met them on the landing ground, the extra pilot, and the expugilist still held Gregory and Wells against the wall, although their arms remained tied behind their backs.
Suddenly the three single raps, followed by two quick ones, came upon the wooden door again. The Limper rose, pulled back the bolt and flung it open, revealing a strange little figure upon the threshold.
Gregory was expecting Lord Gavin Fortescue to put in an appearance after the Limper's last remark but Wells had never seen the Duke of Denver's abnormal twin before and greeted him with a fascinated stare.
Lord Gavin's small, perfect, childlike body was clad in a dinner jacket suit. Over it he wore a black evening cape; the folds hid his hands resting upon the two sticks with which he assisted himself to walk; but it was his massive, leonine head that held Wells's attention. A shock of snow-white hair was brushed back from the magnificent forehead and beneath the aristocratic upturned brows a pair of pale magnetic soulless blue eyes, utterly lacking in expression, stared into his own.
Lord Gavin nodded slowly then sat down carefully in the armchair the Limper had just vacated. It was quite a low one yet his tiny feet, in their shiny patent shoes, still dangled an inch or so from the floor. 'The two gentlemen from Trouville,' he said softly. 'Inspector Wells and Mr. Gregory Sallust. You have been very indiscreet, extremely indiscreet.5
Gregory tried to step forward but the men held him back as he burst out: 'Now look here, Lord Gavin, your record's bad enough! You've been mighty lucky to get away with it so far but you'll tempt fate once too often. They know all about your little game at Scotland Yard this time so you'd better let us go, or else the charge against you is going to be a really ugly one.'
'When I wish for your advice I will ask for it,' said Lord Gavin smoothly. 'I was just saying that you have been very indiscreet. You were indiscreet that night when you followed little Sabine out of the Casino; you were even more indiscreet when you refused to take the warning which I sent you the following morning, and now…'
'How did you know that Sabine was with me that night?' Gregory interrupted. 'I've often wondered.'
'I saw you follow her out of the salle de jeu so I thought it possible that you were responsible for her not returning to me after her business was done. That unfortunate scar above your left eyebrow makes it tolerably easy to trace you and having given your description to my agents they very soon ran you to earth at the Normandie. My men confirmed my impression that Sabine was with you when they reported that she had left the cafe at Trouville in your company.'
Gregory forced a smile, 'Well, give her my love when you next see her.'
'Certainly, if you wish it. She will be most distressed to hear of your demise as she seems to have enjoyed her time with you in Deauville. As there will be no possible chance of her running across you again I must try to make it up to her in some way another bracelet perhaps sapphires, I think. Sabine likes sapphires.'
As Lord Gavin made no mention of their having met again in London Gregory assumed that Sabine had concealed the fact that they had spent a good portion of the previous day together. The brief silence was broken by Wells; who shot out suddenly:
'Cut out the talking and say what you mean to do with us.' The quiet manner of this sinister little man was beginning to fret the Inspector's nerves in a way which no bullying or bluster could have done.
Lord Gavin turned his heavy head slowly in Wells's direction and his pale eyes glittered for a moment. 'Surely there can be no question in your mind, Inspector, about my intentions regarding you. Both you and Sallust have pried into my affairs. You ferreted out the address of Sabine's firm in Paris: in consequence I have been compelled to close it. Not a matter for grave concern but an inconvenience all the same; and now it seems that the two of you have actually witnessed certain operations by my people south of Romney Marshes. You know too much. You have signed your own death warrants. There is no alternative.'
'But you can't kill us in cold blood!'
Lord Gavin shrugged. 'What is there to prevent me? My interests are far too great for me to jeopardise them just because the lives of two inquisitive young men are in question.'
'You'll hang for it if you do,' snapped Gregory. 'Scotland Yard knows what you're up to this time, I tell you. You can't murder us and dispose of our bodies without leaving any trace; sooner or later they'll get you for it.'
'It is most unlikely that they will ever get me for anything, but if they do they will never be able to pin your deaths upon me. Both of you are going to disappear and without leaving any trace.'
Wells grunted. 'Lots of people have thought they were so clever they could get away with murder but it's not so easy.'
'Indeed?' A cold smile twitched Lord Gavin's lips. 'Do you know where we are at the moment?'
'Somewhere in Thanet.'
'No, we are a little to the south of Thanet, less than half a mile from the coast of Pegwell Bay. Does that convey anything to you, I wonder.'
'Only that it'll
be useful to have the location of another of your bases when we're out of this,' said Wells doggedly.
'You will never be out of this, so the knowledge is quite useless to you and, whenever I wish them to do so, my fleet of planes will continue to land upon that beautiful stretch of ground called Ash Level, so convenient to the railway line which you must have crossed when you were brought here. It seems you do not know the peculiarities of Pegwell Bay,"
'It's very shallow,' said Gregory slowly. 'If I remember, the tide runs out for nearly two miles, and when it turns comes in nearly as quickly as a man can run. There are lovely sands too. I went for a gallop along them once when I was staying with some friends at Sandwich.'
'Excellent sands,' Lord Gavin nodded. 'That is, for the first half mile or so from the shore, but farther out there are certain areas which have cavities of water beneath them, although they appear firm and beautiful to the uninitiated. It is a dangerous thing to take a short cut across the big bay at low tide, particularly at night, if you do not know the location of the treacherous patches. People have died that way, just disappeared beyond all trace, their bodies being swallowed up by the quicksands.'
The muscles of Gregory's hands tightened, and he felt that his palms were damp; while Gerry Wells's freckled face went a perceptible shade paler.
Lord Gavin went on unhurriedly: 'That was the reason I had you brought here immediately my people telephoned to tell me that they had caught two spies. It is a great convenience that one of my bases should be adjacent to my private burial ground. The tide is running out. It will be low at six ten this morning. A stone's throw from the cottage here we have the river Stour, which flows through Sandwich and empties itself into the sea by a deep channel in the bay. At five o'clock, while the tide is still running out, my men will take you in a boat down the river and out to sea; then they will throw you overboard in a place where it is too shallow for you to swim and which the tide will probably have left dry by the time you are engulfed in the sand up to your armpits. You have a little over three hours now to exercise your imagination as to what will happen after that.'
'God! you're not human,' Gregory gasped.
Lord Gavin wriggled forward in the armchair and shuffled to his feet. 'I am as the God you invoke made me,' he said with sudden venom and all the stored up bitterness of years seemed concentrated in his voice. His childish body shook with a sudden gust of passion and he spat out at them: 'You have had health and strength, been able to run and leap, and take your women, during your time. Now, your feet shall be tied by the grip of the sands and your great muscles will not help you. You chose to match your wits with mine, and I have proved your master. In your little minds you plotted to interfere with the work that I would do. All right then! You shall gasp out your lives repenting of your folly.'
Suddenly the storm passed and he went quiet again. 'You'll see to it,' he said softly to the Limper, and drawing his black cloak about him he left the cottage without another word.
As the door banged to behind him Wells let out a sharp breath. Little beads of perspiration were now thick upon his forehead. He had been in some tight corners before now, criminal dens in the East End where crooks would have given him a nasty mauling if they had suspected he was a policeman, but nothing to compare with this where he would lose his life unless he could think of a way out.
'Tie their feet again,' said the Limper, 'and push them in the scullery.'
His order was the signal for a fresh struggle. Gregory and Wells both kicked out with savage violence and tried to break away but their arms were still tied and they had four of the Limper's men against them. The uneven tussle could only end one way. The pugilist hit Gregory in the pit of the stomach; one of the others sloshed Wells on the side of the jaw. The Limper did not even need to go to the assistance of his underlings. The prisoners were forced down on the floor and their ankles tied again with thick cord. Then they were dragged across the room and laid out side by side upon the scullery floor.
Gregory had given up the fight before Wells, and as soon as he got his strength back he was thinking, 'If only they shut us in we'll cheat the devils yet. If Wells rolls over on his face I'll unpick the knots that tie his arms with my teeth. The rest'll be easy providing they don't hear us going out through the window.' But even as he was planning an escape the Limper's voice came again:
'Don't shut the door. Leave it wide open; so I can keep my eye on them in case they start any tricks.'
The ex pugilist put a kettle on the hob and then produced a greasy pack of cards. He and his three companions sat down to a game of nap while the Limper picked up a tattered magazine and settled himself in the armchair to read.
A grim silence fell inside the cottage, broken only by an occasional murmur from one of the card players or the squeak of a chair as it was pushed back a little across the boards.
Gregory turned over twice to ease his position but each time he moved he saw the Limper glance up and stare in his direction.
For a quarter of an hour, that seemed like and eternity, he decided to try bribery.
Straggling into a sitting position he spoke softly to the Limper. 'Come here a minute will you.'
The Limper put down his magazine and walked over to the entrance of the cupboard like scullery. 'What is it?'
'Just wanted a word with you,' Gregory said in a low tone. 'You're in this game for what you can get out of it aren’t you?'
'That's so,' agreed the Limper noncommittally.
'Well, I don't know what Gavin Fortescue pays you but I'm a bidder for your services. I'm not a rich man myself, although I could raise a tidy sum, but there's a friend of mine who's next door to being a millionaire Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust you may have heard of him. He looks on me as a sort of adopted son and he'll honour any arrangement that I make without a murmur. Fix it how you like with the others, but get us out of this and we'll pay you £5,000, besides seeing to it that you get safely out of the country. It's Gavin Fortescue we're after and we can afford to shut our eyes to anything you've done if you'll give us a break. How about it?'
The Limper's mouth hardened. Its corners turned down more than ever; making his face suddenly grim and pitiless. He lifted his foot, planted it swiftly on Gregory's chest, and kicked him savagely backwards. 'Another word from you and I'll have you gagged,' he said contemptuously. Then he turned back to his armchair and magazine.
Gregory's head hit the stone floor of the scullery with a crack which almost knocked him senseless and made further thinking impossible for some minutes.
Gerry Wells had listened to Gregory's proposition with mingled hope and fear. He too had been revolving every possible approach in his madly racing brain; yet could think of nothing. Each time he tried to plan a line of action Milly's face appeared before his mental vision. Death might not be so bad a decent death but it was hard to go now that he had found her. She was so utterly different from other girls; so gentle and unspoiled and lovable. The sort that made a big fellow like him just ache to protect her, and she liked him, liked him a lot. He was certain of it. Not a word of any significance had passed between them but it was just the way she looked at him with shy admiration in her big blue eyes. He thought of the wonderful day they had spent together, their flight over Thanet in the morning and their jolly time on the beach in the afternoon; but he mustn't think of her now. It was utterly suicidal. He had got to concentrate on getting out of this ghastly mess he was in; and yet he could not. Every time he tried to reason or plan Milly's delicate oval face, crowned by its mass of golden hair, rose before him.
Time drifted on slowly but inexorably. The pain at the back of Gregory's head was less now and he was trying to formulate new plans. Threats had failed; bribery had failed. They were trussed like sacred offerings for the slaughter. What was there left? If Wells had sent in a report about the base near Dungeness, and the police went there, they would discover nothing. The places where the flares had been, a few tracks of aeroplanes, perhaps, and the marks of the
lorry wheels in the dust of the road. But they wouldn't go there: why should they when the essence of the game was for Wells and himself to gather all the threads of the conspiracy together before the authorities acted? Even if they blundered, and made a premature mop up for some unknown reason, they might raid Quex Park and the Brown Owl Inn and the Cafe de la Cloche near Calais, but this other base at Ash Level, just inland from the southern arm of Pegwell Bay, was unknown to them.
How those three hours drifted by neither of them knew and both began to believe that the Limper had forgotten how time must be passing. At last he stood up and gave a curt order. The men came in and dragged them out of the scullery into the living room again.
Their ankles were untied and they scrambled to their feet. The Limper produced his automatic. 'Understand now,' he said. 'The sands will swallow up a dead body as quickly as a live one. I'll be behind you while we're walking to the boat and if there's any attempt at breaking away I mean to shoot you.'
They were led out of the cottage and round the corner to its other side. Beyond, through the grey half-light that precedes the dawn, they could see a deep gully with muddy banks. In its bed a narrow stream was ebbing swiftly. They crossed it a little farther down by a plank bridge and came again on to the grassland, up a bank, and across the broad main road from Sandwich to Ramsgate. It occurred to both the condemned men to make a dash for it there. If they were shot down, well better death that way than what awaited them; yet such is the instinct of all humans to cling to life up to the last possible moment that both hesitated, knowing the odds to be so terribly against them. Before either had decided to t kicking out they were across the road and had been pushed down the far embankment; to a place where the river red again having made a hairpin bend.
Here the channel was deeper and the stretch of water wider.
Swiftly and silently it raced towards the sea in an endeavour to keep pace with the outgoing tide.
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