Devil's Cocktail (Wallace of the Secret Service Series)

by Alexander Wilson

  He found himself in the study of an obviously busy and prosperous man. A thick carpet lay on the floor with a couple of valuable-looking rugs spread thereon. In the middle of the room, facing the window, was a large oak desk, with a swivel-chair before it. On his right was a row of bookshelves containing a great number of books of all descriptions, and on his left a fine open fireplace, with a large safe let into the wall on one side and a long, comfortable leather couch on the other. A couple of armchairs, also of leather, completed the furniture. There were a few tasteful pictures hanging on the walls, and the mantelshelf was crowded with photographs in silver and blackwood frames. A telephone, books of reference, and various papers were on the desk, as well as a reading lamp with a heavy brown silk shade.

  Cousins found the switch of the electric lights and turned them on, then crossing to the door he locked it.

  ‘Now may the gods grant that I am uninterrupted for an hour or so,’ he murmured. ‘Novar can’t return from his appointment till twelve at the earliest, and it’s only a quarter past ten now.’

  He took off the overcoat he was wearing and placed it over the back of a chair. Then he sniffed.

  ‘H’m!’ he said. ‘There’s a smell of stale cigar smoke about, so there can’t be any harm in my adding to it.’

  He took out a cigar and lit it.

  ‘Now for work!’ he said.

  He drew a pair of thin rubber gloves from his pocket and put them on – Cousins was always thorough – and sitting down before the desk, proceeded to go carefully through the papers scattered before him. He read every one, and replaced them in exactly the same position in which they had been before he touched them. Every now and again he carefully shook his cigar ash into a pocket of his coat. None of the papers proved of any value to him, and he picked up three letters, which were lying unopened upon the desk, and examined them critically. Two of them were obviously business communications, and these he replaced; the third aroused his curiosity, and after a little thought he took a thin, razor-like instrument from his breast pocket, and carefully inserting it under the flap of the envelope, slid it along until the flap came open. He then withdrew the sheet of paper from the envelope and read it, Immediately a look of keen interest showed on his face.

  ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘This is more like it!’

  He took a notebook from his pocket and copied every word of the letter, after which he put it back carefully into its envelope. Producing a tube of thin fish glue, he carefully spread some on the flap, and closed it again. When he had finished, the envelope had no appearance of having been touched. He placed it on the desk.

  ‘Now for the safe!’ he muttered.

  After gazing at the solid-looking affair for a few minutes, he knelt down and commenced to turn the combination handle, listening with delicately attuned hearing to the sound of the tumbril. In a short while a smile creased its way across his face.

  ‘It’s easier than I expected,’ he murmured.

  Ten minutes later he sat back on his heels with a sigh of satisfaction, and pulled open the door of the safe. Inside were bundles of papers, letters and documents of all sorts, as well as negotiable securities and bank notes for large sums of money, which showed that Novar was ready to fly at a moment’s notice, if necessary.

  Cousins went through every document with meticulous care, and every now and again copied rapidly into his notebook something of interest to him. When he had examined the safe thoroughly, he selected two papers from the collection, and putting them in his pocket, replaced the rest as he had found them then carefully closing the door, he reset the combination, and rose to his feet. His cigar had long since gone out, and he had put it among the ashes in his coat pocket. Now he took out another, and lit it. He looked at his wristwatch.

  ‘Dash it!’ he said. ‘I have already been an hour and five minutes.’

  Crossing quickly to the bookcase, he selected a book here and there, and examined them, then he tapped the woodwork gently in an effort to discover secret hiding places. He was unsuccessful, however, and at last after a careful look round to make sure that everything was as it had been left, he switched off the lights, and going to the window drew aside the curtains. He then felt his way to the desk, and picking up his overcoat, put it on. He drew off the rubber gloves, put them in his pocket and, damping his fingers, extinguished his cigar.

  ‘A pleasant evening’s amusement,’ he murmured, as he made his way to the door and, drawing back the curtains, gently unlocked and opened it.

  For a few minutes he stood listening intently, but no sound disturbed the stillness, and he crept quietly along the passage towards the brilliantly lighted corridor.

  Then suddenly there was the sound of a car drawing up outside, and he heard the voices of a man and woman and the creak of the wire doors, as they entered the house.

  ‘Dear! dear!’ muttered Cousins. ‘He has returned half an hour before he should have done. How awkward!’

  He retreated to the study, and stood behind the curtains, listening. A small revolver had appeared in his hand. Apparently the man and woman had gone into the dining room or drawing room, for there was silence for some minutes, and Cousins was about to venture out of his hiding place when he heard a voice say distinctly, ‘I’ll go and get it,’ and the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps came from the corridor. Presently Novar appeared, and walked straight into the study, his body actually rubbing against the curtain behind which the secret agent crouched. The Russian, who was humming to himself, switched on the desk lamp, and crossing to the bookshelf selected a large volume, and carried it to the desk. It was apparently a work of reference, for he turned page after page before, finding what he wanted, he uttered an exclamation of satisfaction and replaced the book on the shelf.

  Then returning to the desk, he was about to turn off the light, when he noticed the three letters lying there. He took up the one that Cousins had examined, and tore it open. As he read he ceased humming, and for some minutes afterwards stood tapping his foot on the floor like a man in deep thought.

  During all this time Cousins remained where he was hidden by the curtain, hardly daring to breathe. He knew that if Novar turned in his direction the latter could not fail to notice him, and he held the revolver ready, while his teeth were tightly clenched and his eyes screwed up with the grimness of a man who recognises death to be hovering uncomfortably near.

  At last, carefully putting the letter in the inside pocket of his dress-coat, Novar turned off the light and made his way past Cousins down the passage and disappeared. The little man chuckled to himself.

  ‘So near and yet so far,’ he murmured. ‘And now the sooner I am out of this place the better I shall be pleased.’

  Without a sound he crept quietly into the corridor and, with his heart thumping against his ribs, moved slowly down towards the service passage, expecting every moment that Novar would emerge from the room again, and confront him. His luck, however, stood him in good stead, and he reached his destination and glided into comparative safety. The passage was now in darkness, but he felt that that was all to the good.

  Before going farther he decided to try and catch a glimpse of the lady with Novar – no doubt his wife – so that he would know her at any future time. They were apparently in the drawing room, so cautiously Cousins stretched his head round the corner until he could see into the room. To his surprise there were two women with Novar. One, a prim middle-aged lady, wearing pince-nez, was apparently looking at a fashion book; the other, a fair-haired girl, had her back turned to him, and was examining something with Novar leaning over her shoulder. The latter made a remark, which made her look up at him with a laugh – Cousins caught a glimpse of her face and drew back into the passage with a gasp.

  ‘Would you believe it!’ he muttered. ‘The plot indeed thickens!’

  He delayed no longer, but found his way towards the door. This time it was closed, but not bolted, and he pushed it gently open, and, going out, as gently closed it, and
slid away into the darkness. Avoiding all light he made his way very cautiously towards the gates. On the way he very nearly walked into the chowkidar, who was sitting crouched up by a tree, with a lathi held in his hand. The man apparently heard him, for he stood up, and peered round him as though trying to discover what the darkness held. But with a stealth that would have done credit to a Red Indian, Cousins crept away and reached the gates. Here he took off the socks, and waiting until he was absolutely sure there was nobody watching outside the house, he turned into the Mall, and strode away towards Crescent Road.

  There was still an adventure before him, however, for he had hardly entered the drive leading to Shannon’s bungalow, when he became aware of two shadows that dived into the undergrowth at his approach.

  ‘Watchers of the night!’ he murmured, and continued on his way, with his eyes cast warily in the direction in which the shadows had disappeared.

  Suddenly two forms silently sprang upon him. He heard the hiss of a knife and felt the ripping of cloth accompanied by a burning sensation in his left arm. He had been ready, however, and at the identical moment that his assailants attacked him, he skipped aside and fired. There was a yell of agony, one of the shadows staggered, but appeared to recover, and the two darted away into the darkness and disappeared. Almost immediately the sound of running footsteps could be heard coming from the direction of the bungalow. Cousins stood where he was, and his face started to crease into a broad grin.

  ‘A most interesting evening on the whole,’ he chuckled aloud.

  He was presently joined by the two runners, who – as he had guessed – were Shannon and Miles.

  ‘What has happened?’ asked the former, when he discovered Cousins standing in the path.

  ‘I think our friends have decided that I am becoming a nuisance,’ replied the little man. ‘I was attacked by two – er – shadows.’

  ‘Are you hurt?’ inquired Miles anxiously.

  ‘No, I don’t think so, at least not much. I am afraid though, that Messrs. Rahtz, Novar and Company owe me a new coat.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Contains News of Olive Gregson

  There was no chance of their finding the assailants, so presently the three men entered the house. Joan had gone to bed, and apparently had not been disturbed by the revolver shot, as she did not come from her room to ask what had happened. Once in the sitting room the three noticed that the left sleeve of Cousins’ coat had been slit from shoulder to elbow. There was a trickle of blood running down the arm, and Miles quickly helped the little man off with his coat and jacket and found a nasty cut about two inches long.

  ‘Say, boy,’ he said, ‘you’ve had a darn narrow escape. Get some warmish water, Hugh – I’ve some lint and bandages in my room – and we’ll dress this.’

  Both Miles and Shannon were quite expert at first-aid work, and they made a very good job of the bandaging, much to Cousins’ disgust.

  ‘Why make such a fuss over a little scratch like that?’ he asked. ‘What bothers me is the damage to my coat!’

  ‘Blow your coat!’ said Hugh. ‘Thank God you weren’t badly hurt! What I can’t understand is why you were attacked. It seems a bit weak to show their hand like this, and right inside these premises too.’

  ‘Was it you who fired the revolver, Jerry?’ asked Miles.

  Cousins nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ he said; ‘and I think I gave one of them more than I received. Anyhow he let out a yell and staggered, but was able to run away.’

  ‘Well, I guess that don’t help any. They didn’t expect you to shoot, and got an unpleasant surprise when you did.’

  ‘We might as well sit down,’ said Cousins. ‘I have a lot to tell you and I prefer to tell it from a chair.’

  He sank into a comfortable armchair and the others followed suit, Hugh first taking care to see that the windows and door were closed, and the curtains drawn.

  ‘First of all, Oscar,’ said the little man; ‘did you have any luck with Hudson?’

  ‘Not a bit! There were two other men dining. He showed a great deal of interest in Shannon, however, and wanted to know a lot of things I didn’t tell him. He is sure puzzled about my staying here; I told him that I had been invited to stay till after Christmas. Darn cheek, I know, but I had to say something!’

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Hugh. ‘You’ll be staying longer than that.’

  ‘I guess not! Novar and Rahtz and their little crowd will get mighty suspicious if I do. But, Jerry, I’m doing all the talking – this is your innings.’

  Cousins at once described his adventures of the evening, right from the time when he gave his shadower the slip in the Lawrence Gardens, until he was attacked. Neither of his hearers uttered a word until he had finished; Hugh sat puffing at a pipe, while Miles chewed a cigar. The latter had laid aside his horn-rimmed glasses, and it was surprising the difference the lack of them made to his face. The indolent look of good humour had gone and the strength of the face now seemed to have come out almost aggressively. From time to time Hugh glanced at him in wonder; he had never seen Miles without his glasses before. At last Cousins finished, and a slow smile appeared on the American’s face.

  ‘Not a bad evening’s work,’ he said.

  ‘What was in the letter, Cousins?’ asked Hugh eagerly. ‘You can read it for yourself – it’s in German and from Oppenheimer.’

  He took his pocket book from his pocket and, opening it at the page whereon he had copied the letter, handed it to Hugh. Miles drew his chair close to the latter’s, and they read together. It was dated from Calcutta, and after a long vague preamble about Oppenheimer’s work among participants in the activity in Calcutta, none of which were mentioned by name, it went on – ‘I am distressed that the conference is to be held in Lahore, instead of Karachi where you informed me it might take place. If it had been Karachi, I would have been on the spot to leave for Germany; as it is I will have to travel many additional hundred miles by train, and train travelling in this country is an abomination. However, that is a detail, and I suppose the Mozang College is, as you say, an ideal place for a meeting of such educational importance. Is the new English professor of Sheranwala College proving himself to be the man his authorities desired? I am glad to hear that Mr Rahtz is taking such an interest in him, and watching his progress so carefully.’

  The letter ended in the writer begging Novar to convey his felicitations to all his friends, and assuring the Russian of his eagerness to be at a meeting of such worldwide educational interest.

  As he came to the end Miles lay back in his chair, and roared with laughter.

  ‘I guess that’s the cutest letter that ever was,’ he said.

  ‘It is clever,’ admitted Hugh; ‘damnably clever! Nobody reading that would ever think that Oppenheimer was anything but a man interested in the progress of education, and that the meeting was anything but an educational one. I begin to grow interested in our German friend.’

  ‘He’s a fat old boy,’ said Miles, ‘who talks English with an accent as tough as Indian steak. But what a piece of luck to find out about the meeting. I was beginning to wonder how it was to be done!’

  Hugh’s face was all smiles as he handed back the pocket book to Cousins.

  ‘You’ve jolly well earned your supper tonight, old chap,’ he said. ‘Rahtz has invited me to call at Mozang College one day, and he’ll show me over it. You and I had better go together, Miles, and then we can compare notes about the lay of the land.’

  ‘Sure thing! The only thing we don’t know now is the time.’

  ‘Well,’ said Cousins, ‘that doesn’t matter much we know the place and date.’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Hugh suddenly, ‘this can’t refer to another conference?’

  ‘Not on your life,’ said Miles. ‘Anyhow we’ll keep Oppenheimer well under observation from the time he arrives till he leaves for Karachi. We’ll get a railroad official to watch for his arrival. Now then, Jerry, what are the other tit-bits you’ve
collected?’

  Cousins turned to another page of his notebook.

  ‘I will now, gentlemen,’ he said, with the air of a lecturer, ‘proceed to read you a few extracts, which I think it will be as well to send to headquarters at an early date.’

  The first was a suggested plan of the disposition of the Russian forces in India, and another of the Chinese. After that followed a note of great interest. ‘Among our active allies,’ it ran, ‘Turkey will keep the English engaged in Egypt and Mesopotamia, Afghanistan will open all the passes to our military trains, and invade the north-west frontier; and China, besides participating in the invasion of India, will attack Hong Kong and keep the English forces in the East occupied. Persia will close her ports to British ships and be prepared with all the ships she can gather together to transport the second Russian army down the Persian Gulf to India, as soon as the first has carried out the invasion.’

  Hugh whistled long and softly, when he had heard that, and Miles sat back in his chair and looked across at Cousins.

  ‘Say, Jerry,’ he said, ‘when you burgled old Novar’s house, had you any idea that you were going to find this stuff?’

  ‘No; only hopes! But I’ve thought for a long time that Novar was really the moving spirit out here. And when I found out that he was attending the ball at Christopher’s tonight, I thought I’d have a shot at burglary.’

  ‘It’s been a jolly fine shot too,’ said Hugh admiringly.

  ‘I take back what I said about your being a born valet,’ remarked the American. ‘You’re a born burglar instead.’

  ‘“Thank you, sir,” he murmured with real gratitude,’ said Cousins.