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

by Alexander Wilson

  ‘The Secret Service could do with a man like you,’ said Hugh, ‘and besides thanking you for rescuing my sister I have also to thank you for saving my life when Rahtz—’

  ‘I hardly saved your life,’ interrupted Rahim hastily. ‘I am sure you would have avoided his knife.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ replied Hugh. He turned to the Deputy Commissioner. ‘But really, Rainer,’ he began, ‘you should never have broken a confidence which—’

  He was interrupted by a great burst of laughter from Cousins. Everyone turned in amazement to look at the little man, who was lying back in his chair and emitting peal after peal while tears of merriment ran down his cheeks. The sight of that face creased up into its thousand wrinkles of mirth set the rest of the company laughing too. Presently Miles went over to him and patted him on the back.

  ‘Steady on, Jerry,’ he said. ‘I guess the events of the day have made you hysterical.’

  ‘Hysterical be blowed!’ gasped the ideal valet. ‘I was laughing at Shannon’s remark that the Secret Service could do with a man like – like – er – Rahim!’

  ‘Well, what’s funny in that? Pull yourself together, you boob!’

  But Rainer also seemed to see the humour of it. He rocked in his chair.

  ‘Now I know why – why Mr Abdul Rahim always keeps his left hand in his pocket,’ went on Cousins. ‘Don’t you see—’ He roared with laughter again, then rose to his feet and looked at Abdul Rahim. ‘Forgive me, sir,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t help it. Shannon, you ass, this is Sir Leonard Wallace!’

  ‘What!’ shouted Hugh.

  ‘Holy Mike!’ murmured Miles.

  He sat down but, missing the chair, landed on the floor, from where he continued to stare with his mouth open at the Chief of the British Secret Service.

  ‘Cousins is right,’ said Sir Leonard, smiling round at the astonished company. ‘Just before the aeroplane left with my despatches, I decided to come out myself. I thought I might be of some use and I also wanted to be on the spot to watch the final stages of your triumph, Shannon, and congratulate you, Cousins and Miles on a magnificent achievement. As soon as I arrived I disguised myself in this get up. It occurred to me that by keeping in the background and not making myself known I would be of more help to you than if I divulged my presence in Lahore. I watched your visit to Novar with the three Indians and later rode on the luggage carrier of his car, when he went to The Retreat. The following morning I made myself known to Rainer and he told me everything. I have thoroughly enjoyed your curiosity about me. It only remains for me to change my garb and resume my normal appearance. Then I shall try to tell you what Great Britain and in fact, the whole world owes to you three men.’

  His left hand was not in his pocket now. On it was a brown kid glove and as Miles looked he remembered hearing that the famous Chief of the British Intelligence Department had lost his left arm in the service of his country. The substitute was a good one, but it was only an artificial arm after all.

  In the midst of the excited exclamations that greeted Sir Leonard’s remarks, he turned to Rainer.

  ‘Can I have that bath, Rainer?’ he said. ‘I should like to attend the supper party, you promised us, as myself.’

  ‘Come along now, Sir Leonard,’ said Rainer.

  ‘By the way, sir,’ said Shannon, ‘I cabled my report to you tonight.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said the Chief. ‘I left a note for Major Brien to hand it to the Prime Minister as soon as it arrived.’

  He and Rainer excused themselves, and left the room.

  ‘By Jove!’ exclaimed Hugh, with a broad grin on his face and eyes sparkling with delight. ‘By Jove!’

  ‘Say, Hugh,’ said Miles, rising from the floor, ‘this is sure the third greatest day of my life.’

  ‘What were the first and second, Oscar?’ asked Joan.

  ‘The second greatest day was when I discovered you loved me, little girl,’ said the American. ‘The first and greatest of all days hasn’t arrived yet, but I guess it will soon. And that will be the day we are married.’

  ‘You darling!’ whispered Joan.

  ‘“There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood leads on to fortune”,’ said Cousins.

  Hugh had seated himself close to Helen Rainer and was talking earnestly to her. Suddenly she smiled and nodded very shyly, a heightened colour in her cheeks. Mrs Rainer noticed the glance her daughter gave to Hugh and her eyes opened wide, but a look of pleased surprise came into her face. Cousins also seemed to find something significant in the attitudes of Miss Rainer and Hugh.

  ‘“Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips And all is dross that is not Helena”,’ quoted the little man.

  ‘Shut up, Cousins!’ growled Hugh.

  Cousins shut up.

  EPILOGUE

  A great sensation shook the world during the course of the next few days, when it became known by means of the press of Great Britain, the United States and France, how Russia, Germany and their many satellites had conspired to plunge the world once again into a terrible war, and that the three nations had sent a joint ultimatum to those bloodthirsty countries demanding the instant demobilisation of all warlike forces and dismantling of all aircraft except those built for commercial purposes. At the same time a mighty British fleet sailed up the Baltic, another combined British and French fleet patrolled the North Sea and the British Mediterranean squadron entered the Dardanelles and, sailing across the Sea of Marmora, anchored close to Constantinople.

  The German inhabitants of the Rhine woke up one morning to find a great British and French army almost encamped at their doors, the army in India was mobilised and stood ready in the Punjab and the North-West Province and also in Bengal. Persian ports were surprised at the appearance of British cruisers, and a great American fleet was known to be halfway across the Pacific on its way to China.

  Excitement knew no bounds when it was officially reported that the agents of the aggressive powers had actually been arrested whilst holding a meeting in Lahore, and that amongst them was Bukharin himself – the Soviet Minister for Foreign Affairs. British newspapers came out with a verbatim report of the proceedings, and a great storm of indignation spread throughout France, Italy, and the English-speaking countries. A rush of able-bodied men for enlistment took place in Great Britain and the Dominions, an almost unprecedented wave of patriotism came over the Empire, and there was such an intensity of feeling against Communism that the British, Colonial, and American representatives of that doctrine went in danger of their lives, or, at least, of very rough handling, and therefore conceived it wiser to disappear from view.

  The world throbbed with suspense for two days, extraordinary rumours were afloat one minute and contradicted the next, a situation of extreme gravity arose on the money markets, business was at a standstill – everyone waited for the first shot that would plunge creation into a war more terrible than the last. Then there came a terse official statement, which sent the world hysterical with joy, which made strong men run about the streets laughing childishly, and crying the news to each other as they went.

  Russia and Germany with their many dupes had climbed down. The ultimatum was accepted without reservation.

  At once, Great Britain, the United States, the British Dominions, France, Italy, Belgium – all the powers loyal to the gospel of peace and goodwill – were en fête. Armistice Day of 1918 was quite overshadowed by the joy of this wonderful day of all days. London went mad with delight, a wonderful crowd gathered before Buckingham Palace and demonstrated its loyalty to the throne as never before. New York, Paris, Brussels, Rome were no whit behind in displaying their enthusiasm.

  International commissions were appointed to see that the terms of the ultimatum were thoroughly carried out. They did their work completely and well, and until they reported ‘All’s well’, the three great nations, which had acted with such firm and dramatic suddenness, remained under arms.

  Bolshevism had rec
eived a blow from which it would probably never recover.

  Hugh Shannon, Oscar Miles and Cousins were received by the British Cabinet, and the Prime Minister thanked them on behalf of the Empire for their great services. His Majesty the King commanded their presence at the Palace, where he himself expressed his gratitude to them and honoured them with the decorations they so thoroughly deserved. In spite of attempts to keep their identity secret they soon became known and time after time were almost mobbed by enthusiastic crowds. As Cousins remarked, their use as secret agents was entirely destroyed, but he and Shannon were given posts which would keep them at home for the future.

  The French Government invited them to Paris where they were given a truly royal welcome and fêted in magnificent style, and the United States, not to be outdone, demanded their presence and would take no refusal.

  Before they went, however, a pleasing ceremony took place in London, and that was a double wedding between Joan and Miles, and Helen Rainer and Hugh. Every effort was made to keep the event secret, but somehow it leaked out, and when the happy couples left the church, they were greeted by a vast crowd which lined the whole route to Sir Leonard Wallace’s house – where the reception took place – and cheered them to the echo.

  Many notabilities were present at the reception, and not the least amongst them was the Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjab, Sir Reginald Scott.

  Soon after the wedding, both couples left for the United States attended by Cousins. The warm-hearted people of the great American Republic outdid even England and France in the magnificence` of their welcome, with a little extra enthusiasm for Oscar Miles and his shy little bride, whose beauty and sweetness instantly charmed them, and whom they took to their hearts as only the people of the United States can.

  Miles found himself appointed as Chief of the Intelligence Department in succession to a predecessor, who in his great delight at the exploits of his junior, had voluntarily resigned to make way for him.

  As Cousins remarked, hoping that the shades of Dryden would forgive him:

  ‘Heaven that but once was prodigal before,

  To Oscar gave so much, she could not give him more.’

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  About the Author

  ALEXANDER WILSON was a writer, spy and secret service officer. He served in the First World War before moving to India to teach as a Professor of English Literature and eventually became Principal of Islamia College at the University of Punjab in Lahore. He began writing spy novels whilst in India and he enjoyed great success in the 1930s with reviews in the Telegraph, Observer and the Times Literary Supplement amongst others. Wilson also worked as an intelligence agent and his characters are based on his own fascinating and largely unknown career in the Secret Intelligence Service. He passed away in 1963.

  By Alexander Wilson

  The Mystery of Tunnel 51

  The Devil’s Cocktail

  Wallace of the Secret Service

  Get Wallace!

  His Excellency, Governor Wallace

  Microbes of Power

  Wallace at Bay

  Wallace Intervenes

  Chronicles of the Secret Service

  Copyright

  Allison & Busby Limited

  12 Fitzroy Mews

  London W1T 6DW

  www.allisonandbusby.com

  First published in 1928.

  This ebook edition published by Allison & Busby in 2015.

  Copyright © 1928 by THE ALEXANDER WILSON ESTATE

  All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978-0-7490-1855-9