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

by Alexander Wilson

  The afternoon dragged wearily along, but resting on the bed had enabled Joan to recover all her courage and a lot of confidence. She had hopes now of being able to keep Hudson out, if not all night, at least for a considerable time and perhaps, if he tried to break in the door, which did not look very strong, the others would interfere and make him leave her alone. She had meant what she said when she told him she would kill herself before he touched her again, but she had no means of taking her own life. It had occurred to her that by crushing the glass of the solitary electric bulb in the room and swallowing it she could encompass that end, but her death would be most agonising and probably take such a long time that in the meantime he would be able to have his will with her. If only the meeting at Mozang College was that very night! She knew that Hugh or one of the others would afterwards follow Novar and Rahtz to their haunt and rescue her. As it was she had no hope of rescue at all, unless a miracle happened.

  It must have been nearly five when the Hindu woman brought her a meal on a tray. Apparently they had no desire to starve her and as soon as she was left alone again she set to work and forced herself to eat until she could eat no longer. With the food she drank three cups of tea and felt greatly refreshed. Then once more she lay down to wait.

  It was quite dark when the woman came back for the tray, but Joan had not bothered to switch on the light. She had thought of attempting to hide away the only knife with which she had been provided, but it was an old blunt instrument and so bendable that it was utterly useless, so she left it on the tray.

  Before departing, the woman turned on the light and made the bed. As she said ‘Salaam!’ when she was going out, Joan concluded that that was the last time she would visit her that night. The girl waited for another hour or so and then crossing to the door slipped the bolt into place. She next took up the chair and started to wrench off one of the legs. It was a long and difficult task and she hurt her hands considerably and for a long time it resisted all her efforts to move it. At last, however, it began to give and after further pressure came off, and she found herself with quite a serviceable weapon. After that she lay down again and must have dozed off to sleep, for she had little recollection of any time passing before she heard the key being turned in the lock. Instantly she was on the alert and, although her terror returned in full force, she sat up and quietly waited ready to fight till the last. The door was pushed and a voice, which she recognised as Hudson’s, uttered an oath.

  ‘Open this door!’ he shouted, but she made no reply.

  For a considerable time she heard him throwing his weight against it in an effort to break it in, and though it shook ominously it resisted all his attempts, even to the savage kicks he landed on it from time to time. Presently she caught the murmur of other voices and prayed that the newcomers would persuade Hudson to give it up. But no; she heard the latter tell them that she had bolted the door – he having quite forgotten the bolt. There was a laugh and she knew they had gone away for there was no further talking.

  ‘Open the door, Joan,’ said Hudson in coaxing tones. ‘I just want to speak to you. I won’t harm you!’

  She took no notice so he redoubled his efforts and after a while she thought the door seemed to be giving a little. She took a firmer grip upon the chair leg and waited. Crash after crash came, then suddenly all was quiet.

  ‘God grant he has gone!’ she whispered fervently.

  But he had only gone in search of a weapon to smash in the obstacle and after a few minutes he returned with a hatchet, and attacked one of the upper panels. Before such onslaughts the woodwork soon began to give way and a piece came flying into the room accompanied by an oath of satisfaction from the man without. Joan crossed to the side of the door and waited. Two or three minutes later the whole panel gave way; there was a pause and she knew he was looking for her. She made no sign, however, and presently he put his hand through the hole to draw the bolt. Then she brought down the chair leg with all the strength of which she was capable. He gave a howl of pain and the hand was withdrawn. For some minutes he cursed unrestrainedly.

  ‘You hell-cat!’ he roared, at last. ‘I’ll make you suffer for that!’

  ‘You had better go away,’ she said quietly, though her whole body was trembling violently.

  ‘I’ve come to ask you if you’ll marry me.’

  ‘I have already given you my answer.’

  ‘Very well, I’m coming in to marry you in my own way, and in spite of yourself.’

  ‘If you put your hand in again you’ll receive the same treatment as before.’

  For a few moments there was silence, as though he was reflecting, then the head of the hatchet came through the door and moved down to the bolt. Undismayed Joan caught hold of it, and was pulled towards the opening until she could see him leering in at her. Desperately she strove to get the weapon from his grasp, but at last, with a sob, she was compelled to let go. At the same moment his other hand shot through and caught her by the shoulder. Blow after blow she aimed at him, but with a sudden vicious shove he flung her to the floor. In another moment he had drawn the bolt, and was inside the room.

  She staggered to her feet, still grasping the leg of the chair, and ran round to the far side of the bed. He stood watching her with mocking eyes and dabbing his left hand, from which the blood was streaming, with a handkerchief.

  ‘Your conquest will be all the sweeter after this,’ he said.

  Then with a sudden movement he had pushed the bed towards her and she was pinned to the wall. With fiendish cruelty he continued pushing and she suffered agonies.

  ‘Just a little punishment for your obstinacy,’ he chuckled. ‘And now perhaps you are ready to come to my arms?’

  ‘Never!’ she gasped.

  He leapt on to the bed and seized her before she had time to move, and though she fought wildly, hitting at him with all her might, he never let go and gradually dragged her towards him. She caught him one blow on the left side of the head which brought the blood streaming down by his ear, and then he had wrested her weapon from her and flung it away. Holding both her arms he forced her down until she was lying flat on the bed. She kicked and screamed, but he knelt on her legs until at last she lay there powerless to move, in her eyes the fear of worse than death.

  For some moments he gloated over her, his eyes shining with a lustful delight.

  ‘My woman!’ he said. ‘My Joan!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The End of a Traitor

  Abdul Rahim arrived outside The Retreat somewhere about ten o’clock and, standing in the darkest part of the road, contemplated the entrance gates of the small estate. It was rather a quiet neighbourhood this and, except for an occasional tonga and a few pedestrians, the road was deserted. The gates were in darkness and presently the smartly dressed Mahommedan went up to them and peered through. On the right-hand side was the small lodge and a dim light showed through a window. The drive ran on for about fifty yards and ended in a loop running through a large porch at the entrance of the mansion. The place was well lighted and Rahim saw several vague shadows moving about in front of it, whether of men watching for intruders, or merely servants he had no means of ascertaining. Feeling inside a pocket to make sure that his revolver lay handy, and waiting for two men with a stream of bullocks to pass, he commenced to climb. He scaled the gates rather clumsily yet with occasional glimpses of real agility, and after three or four minutes stood inside the grounds. Approaching the window of the lodge he looked in. The place appeared to consist of a single room, and in one corner of it a woman sat rocking a child to sleep; there was no sign of anyone else.

  Rahim stood for a moment rubbing his chin reflectively, then crept to the door and gently pushed it. To his relief it moved quietly open. He knew that the keys of the gate were hung on a nail just inside, for he had seen the gatekeeper place them there the night before by the light of the lantern the man had carried, and Abdul Rahim wanted those keys; the difficulty was to get them without the
woman seeing, or hearing him. Gradually he opened the door until there was just room enough to put his hand inside. It was nervy work, for if he were discovered it would probably mean the ruin of his plans. However, his fingers presently touched a key and by slow degrees he gathered the bunch into his hand and lifted it from its nail. A second later he was back at the gate and was trying a key – the largest of four – in the keyhole. As luck would have it, it was the right one and he turned the lock. There were two bolts still to be withdrawn; one worked easily, but the other grated in its socket and it was only by infinite care that he succeeded in drawing it without making a noise. At last it was done and he returned to the lodge. With the loop of the string holding the keys held ready in his hand, he felt for the nail, found it, and hung the bunch back without the slightest suspicion of a sound.

  The first part of his task accomplished satisfactorily, Rahim breathed a sigh of relief and set off for the house. He wore rubber-soled shoes and, moving without noise, he took advantage of every bush and tree and, by degrees, drew closer to the building. The porch was lighted up and he realised that it was going to be a difficult matter to get inside without being seen, as there were several men about the grounds, some of whom he had the greatest trouble in avoiding. He crouched behind a large shrub and watched, and presently became aware of a distant knocking which continued intermittently for some time. A few minutes went by, then two men came out of the house laughing loudly. They were both dressed as Parsees and one appeared to be rather weak, as he walked haltingly and leant on the arm of his companion. They strolled away into the grounds and Rahim took a sudden resolve to risk being seen and enter the house at once. He felt an intuition that he must not delay longer. With this decision he rose from his hiding place, strolled across the intervening space and into the house, deeming it safer to walk across slowly, as though he were a member of the household entering on domestic business, rather than dashing across with the obvious intention of avoiding detection.

  He found himself in a wide hall with several rooms opening into it and a passage crossing it at right angles at the far end. His revolver, a heavy Army pattern, was in his hand now and he crept quietly towards the passage. The banging had ceased for some time, but there was a confused medley of sounds coming from somewhere in the direction towards which he was going and on his right-hand side. He reached the corner and cautiously looked round. A man was standing within a few feet of him at the door of a room, but his back was turned towards him. The sounds were louder now and it suddenly dawned upon Rahim what they were. At that moment a woman’s screams rang out and the man in front of him chuckled. This was no time for ceremony and, grasping his revolver by the barrel, the Indian darted forward and brought it down with sickening force on the head of the fellow before him. Kamper crumpled up with a grunt and slid to the floor senseless. Rahim dragged him into the room – a small bedroom – at the door of which he had been standing, and leaving him just inside, closed the door on him and hurried along to the room from which the sound of screams was issuing. He paused at the door and looked in. The place was in disorder, but the Indian took no notice of the chaos, his horrified gaze was fixed on the bed upon which a girl was lying with a man holding her down by the arms and kneeling on her legs to prevent her struggling.

  ‘My woman! My Joan!’ he was saying, and bent to kiss her.

  ‘Mr Hudson, I believe!’ said Abdul Rahim quietly.

  Hudson spun round as though he had been shot and found himself gazing into a revolver held by a neatly dressed Mahommedan, standing with one hand in a pocket, whose mouth was drawn together so tightly that it looked a mere slit, and in whose eyes the ex-civil servant saw death.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked hoarsely. Even under the painted brown of his face could be seen the pallor of fear.

  ‘Never mind who I am,’ was the stern reply. ‘It is enough to know that I am here to prevent your doing the dastardly deed you contemplate.’

  With a cry in which joy and hope were mingled, Joan rose from the bed and staggered to the side of her deliverer.

  ‘I don’t know who you are,’ she cried; ‘whether you are one of these men or a stranger, but have pity on me! Take me away from him – anywhere; please, please!’

  ‘I am here to take you away, Miss Shannon,’ he replied quietly in his peculiar, sibilant English. ‘And I do not belong to this gang – I am our brother’s friend.’

  The sudden relief was too much for the poor girl. She sank on her knees in a revulsion of feeling and, covering her face with her hands, sobbed out her gratitude.

  ‘You are the luckiest man alive, Mr Hudson,’ said Rahim still calmly, ‘that I did not put a bullet into you at once. However, I doubt not that the pleasure has been reserved for someone else. Come on, Miss Shannon,’ he went on gently, ‘let us get away from here!’

  ‘You can’t take her from me,’ shouted Hudson, in whose eyes the light of madness had reappeared. ‘She is mine – mine I tell you!’

  Joan rose to her feet and walked shakily to the door. Hudson made a frantic leap towards her, the revolver spun in Rahim’s hand like lightning and all in one moment he brought the butt down with a crash on the other man’s head. Hudson seemed to stop in mid-air, then with a groan he fell and lay still.

  The Mahommedan gazed down at him calmly.

  ‘I was puzzled what to do with you,’ he murmured contentedly, ‘but you have solved the problem for me. Of course I might have shot you! Now do exactly as I tell you, Miss Shannon,’ he added, turning to the girl, who was looking down at Hudson with wide-open eyes, full of horror. ‘We may run into others and shall have to go very carefully.’

  ‘Have you killed him?’ she asked.

  ‘No; he’ll be all right in half an hour. I didn’t hit him as hard as the other.’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘It is nearly eleven,’ he said, ‘your brother will be getting anxious. Come!’

  Taking her by the arm he led her down the passage. Looking round the corner to see if there was anybody about, he found the hall empty, and they went on cautiously. Just as they reached the front door, however, he heard the sound of footsteps and bundling Joan unceremoniously into a room nearby, he followed her. The two of them stood behind the door.

  ‘Not a sound!’ he hissed.

  Watching through the crack he saw the two Parsees slowly enter the house.

  ‘All is silence, my dear Rahtz,’ one was saying in English. ‘It would appear that Hudson has bent the girl to his will.’

  ‘Not an easy task,’ laughed the other.

  They passed by and entered a room farther along, and Rahim and Joan breathed freely again. They waited for a few moments, then emerged from their hiding place and, creeping across the hall, made their way out of the house. The lights in the porch had now been switched off and they were thus enabled to reach the shelter of the bushes and trees without danger. By gradual stages Rahim led Joan towards the gates, stopping every now and then to hide as he saw figures moving about in front of them. At last, after a considerable time, they passed the lodge and the Indian tried the gates with anxiety, fearing that the gatekeeper had discovered that they were open and had locked them again. To his relief the one he pulled came towards him and, in a moment, he and Joan were through and hurrying along the road.

  ‘I have a car waiting about a hundred yards away,’ he said. ‘I hope it has not been stolen.’

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ she began.

  ‘Don’t!’ he said shortly. ‘What I have done, I have done by the grace of Allah!’

  The car had not been stolen, and as he helped her in he saw that she wore no covering to her feet.

  ‘Why you have no shoes!’ he said. ‘Why did you not tell me? I would have carried you!’

  She laughed.

  ‘As though that mattered,’ she said.

  She settled herself in her seat and he got in beside her.

  ‘Are you comfortable?’ he asked.

  ‘Wonderfully!’ she murmured.r />
  ‘Now may I be forgiven and may Mahommed (the blessings of Allah be upon him) intercede for me,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked in quick alarm.

  ‘I have brought no rug to cover you!’

  ‘Never mind that,’ she said. ‘I had a cloak with me, but I left it behind, and also my—’ She stopped and blushed, ‘my other garment,’ she added hastily.

  ‘I would have brought it if I’d known,’ he said.

  ‘Please don’t bother! It is not very cold tonight, and I wouldn’t mind if I froze now that we are away from that awful place!’

  ‘I know,’ he said; ‘I’ll take off my coat and you can have it.’

  She laid her hand on his arm.

  ‘I wouldn’t think of it,’ she said. ‘Really I am quite all right!’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Perfectly!’

  ‘Then we’ll make straight for your home,’ he said.

  He slipped in the clutch and they were off. The word ‘home’ had brought a great sob of joy from Joan, and he did not speak another word to her until they pulled up near the bungalow.

  ‘Run along in!’ he said. ‘I’d rather not be present at the reunion.’

  Without a word she jumped out of the car and ran into the house. He watched her with a smile until she had disappeared, then turned and drove away.

  Hugh had just made his despairing remark that Abdul Rahim must have failed to rescue Joan, when the three men heard the sound of a car apparently approaching the house. They were instantly on their feet, their eyes searching each other’s, their faces bloodless, hardly daring to breathe. The front door opened and shut and their burning gaze fixed on the entrance to the room. A figure suddenly appeared there, a little figure whom they did not recognise at first on account of the sari which enveloped her dainty little form. Then, with a wonderful cry which found an echo in every heart, Miles dashed forward and gathered her into his arms.