‘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 scélérat de Scotland Yard.’ Then he turned, stared at Gregory for a moment and added: ‘Et voila! l’autre.’
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 white-washed wall. Then he lowered himself with a sigh into a worn saddle-bag arm-chair.
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 rough-houses 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 ex-pugilist 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 arm-chair 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.’
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 café 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.’
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