Eye For A Tooth (19 page)

Nothing could have been better – from our point of view, for now we could see where he was and watch every movement he made.

After a little he began to stroll up the drive – and before I could think, Mansel was over the road. George had time to join him, before the man turned; but I stayed on the other side, only moving forward, until I could see up the drive.

I saw the man turn and come back, and glanced at my wrist. It was almost one o’clock – by the sentinel’s watch. Right down the drive he strolled and into the road. There he stood, with his hands in his pockets, looking to right and to left, four paces from where I lay.

And then he turned about…and, as he turned, Mansel hit him…right on the point…the very deuce of a blow.

George and I picked him up and carried him into the drive. It was Saul’s valet – the great, big brute that I had seen in the garage, less than a fortnight before.

“Come,” said Mansel, and led the way up the drive.

At exactly five minutes past one, according to the sentinel’s watch, he set his foot on the middle strand of the wire, pressing it down firmly before letting it go. And then we moved up to the bend, and waited just clear of the beam.

The beam was thrown by a powerful acetylene lamp, attached to a tree. Over this a hood had been placed, and the hood had been so adjusted as to limit the beam to the drive.

Within ten minutes we saw the light of a torch coming down the drive from the lodge. That the man who bore it was Kleiner there can be no doubt, for he threw its light on the post which was taking the strain of the wire which Mansel had touched. This post was of metal and was very carefully planted and heavily stayed. Three feet behind it, however, had been planted a wooden post; and from this wooden post ran a single, flexible wire. This was covered with rubber and lay on the ground. When Kleiner arrived there was nothing between the two posts, but at once he picked up two ends which he found hanging down. These he hitched together, thus making a rough connection between the two posts. Then he touched the metal post, and at once the connection gave way. Again he made his connection. Then he turned to examine the wire on the other side of the drive. But this was intact. And then he turned on his heel and began to walk back up the drive.

“Simple and effective,” murmured Mansel. “Ah, well. One lives and learns. So much better to break than to make. So much more certain. And now we know. I rather suspect that these wires are China’s ‘tape.’” The light of Kleiner’s torch disappeared round a bend. “Come along. Let’s keep him in view.”

We passed through the beam of the lamp and hastened along the drive, some fifty yards behind Kleiner, making his way to the lodge. Our shoes were soled with rubber, but his were not; so we closed to within twenty paces without being heard.

We saw him cross the forecourt and mount the steps of the lodge, and we saw that the door was wide open and that some light or other was burning within.

As the fellow crossed the threshold, we came to the end of the drive.

“You two, wait here,” breathed Mansel, and went on alone.

Twenty seconds later, I saw the slightest movement against the glow of the light which was burning within the lodge…

Waiting there with George in the darkness, I was again assailed by that shameful feeling of fear. I was afraid for Mansel, I was afraid for us; I felt we were probing something that ought to be left alone – trespassing upon ground that belonged to a jealous lord, who took no offence at our presence because he knew the doom that befell all trespassers. To put it another way, it seemed to me that the powers of evil were watching and, worse than that, were smiling a slow, sure smile. It was absurd, of course, for men could live and move in the house itself. And yet…

And so I was more than thankful when Mansel came back, after being gone a quarter of an hour – which had seemed like three quarters to me.

He said nothing then and we made our way back down the drive, to find the valet still senseless and flat on his back.

This time I went through his pockets. He carried two heavy pistols, and both of these we took. And his name was Frederick Auger, as one or two letters showed.

“And now,” said Mansel, “let’s save the blackguard’s face. Don’t think I want to help him – I’ve seen his type before. He’s German inside and out. But he is a moral coward, as every German is. And that is just what we want. So turn him over and drag him along on his stomach to the wire.

We did as he said.

Then Mansel took Auger’s hand and hitched the palm on to a barb on the strand of the wire. And then he pressed the wire down.

“And this,” he said, smiling, “is where we clear out at a run.”

With that, he led the way; and George and I ran behind him, out of the drive and back the way we had come.

After half a mile or so, Mansel dropped into a walk.

“Tell me this,” he said. “Do you both understand why I did what I did with Herr Auger?”

“I think I do,” said George.

“So do I,” said I, “but I’d rather you said right out.”

“Those who find him,” said Mansel, “are bound to observe the posture in which he lies. He is lying flat on his face with one hand caught up on the wire. That will at once suggest that, such was his sense of duty, although he was passing out, he managed to crawl to the wire and give the alarm. Now two alarms were given – one at five minutes past one and one at two o’clock. Those who find Auger will assume that he gave the first, that then for fifty-five minutes he did his sentinel stuff and that then he was struck down from behind and gave his lovely performance of ‘Faithful unto death.’ Now if Auger told them the truth – that in fact he gave
neither
alarm, they would at once perceive that we knew a great deal too much. But, because he is German, he will not tell them the truth. Moral cowardice and vanity will have their way with him: and, rather than let himself down, Auger will let them believe what he knows to be false.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I may be wrong, but I know the Boche pretty well. And if I am right, the enemy will assume that we were only on for two minutes – instead of for more than an hour.

“And now for the lodge.

“I didn’t go in, but I had a good look at the hall. This is a strange apartment. It’s some sixty feet long by thirty, and two floors high. The walls are tapestried and the floor is of polished oak. I couldn’t see any doors except at the farther end, where there seemed to be two: but I think there must be others, cut in the tapestry, for I saw no sign of Kleiner and I don’t think he had had time to go the length of the hall before I arrived. Right at the end of the hall there’s a very grand staircase – a broad flight up to a landing some twelve feet high, and from there two flights, one running up to the right and one to the left. It would make a good place to dance in: the band could be up on the landing, out of the way. But it’s not the sort of apartment which you would expect to find in a hunting-lodge. Of course there’s no furniture, but that is natural enough.”

“No watchman’s chairs?” said I.

“Not there. That doesn’t altogether surprise me, for the hall is without a fireplace, and watchmen like a fire. Besides, it was the reverse of cosy. Dank, gloomy, cheerless and colder within than without. I should think the tapestries were mouldering; but I couldn’t see details like that, for the only lamp there was hanging down from the ceiling over the stairs. But the smell of decay was unmistakable.

“Well, then I left the steps and went round the house. Two cars – one of them Forecast’s – stood in the stableyard. But I really went to see if, supposing we came in force, we could approach that way. Quite apart from the man-traps, I don’t think we could – by night. So I crossed the forecourt again and tried the other side. But I don’t think we could make it, except by day.

“I should like to have placed the guard-room. I should say it’s in one of the rooms on the right or the left of the hall – one of those looking on to the forecourt. And, as I said just now, its door is probably cut in the tapestry. But I could hear no sound, and I saw no light. If I could have used my torch, I might have been able to see where the wire ran in. But of course I couldn’t do that. China didn’t know, because I told Carson to ask him. He couldn’t give any details of what was in store for us. He’d heard Cain and Forecast talking – which was how he knew as much as he did. Still, what we have seen tonight bears out what he said. Their object is to decoy us into that house. But it’s no good getting us in, unless they are ready to receive us: hence the stratagem – the beam confined to the drive to force us to touch the wire. It looks very feeble now, because we have been conducted behind the scenes: but in fact it’s rather clever, for nine out of ten would assume that somewhere or other a sentry was watching the beam.

“Any way, we’ve got a step farther, for, if we have done little else, we have at least assured them of what they were anxious to know. And that is that we are aware that they are to be found – not at Varvic, but at the end of that drive.”

“To be perfectly honest,” said George, “I dislike that place; and, to be still more frank, I don’t fancy mixing it there. It is for me the very lair of foreboding. I don’t wonder they’ve chosen it as a place of execution. As such, it has all the qualities. But I hope very much that you won’t endorse their choice.”

Mansel laughed.

“You needn’t worry,” he said. “If I can help it, I’ll never do battle there. That place is accursed. They propose to decoy. Well and good. But they are up against time, while we are not. And when they find we’re not playing, they’ll have to do something else. And that will be the moment to help them. After all, two can decoy. And when we take that line, there are several suitable places within two miles of those woods. I confess that a thirst for knowledge took me up to the lodge tonight. And you two unfortunates with me. But in a show like this I set great store by studying the enemy’s methods and all he does. If it does nothing else, it teaches you what to expect. Besides, one day we might have to go there – against our will. And now we know something of the lay-out.”

“Every time,” said George. “But from the casual way in which you pushed off all alone to smell out the curtilage, I felt that you must be proof against its horrid alarms. And so I felt bound to inform you that in that odious vicinity, do what I will, my morale is not at its best. I don’t believe any dog would approach that place.”

“The woods are birdless,” I said.

“That’s quite true,” said Mansel. “I’d noticed that.”

“Ugh,” said George. “Let’s talk about something attractive, just for a change. I expect Gulf’s planted by now. When is the exhumation? I mean, I’d hate to miss that.”

“I don’t think,” said Mansel, laughing, “we need go as far as that. But I’d like to know where he lies, for then we can add his passport to his remains. Wrap it up in a bit of oil-silk, and shove it under the turf. Just in case of accidents.”

“Splendid,” said George. “Just the job to do before breakfast. I’ll tell you what. Let’s try and locate the grave and wait till Biretta comes. If he’s brought his spade and pail with him, we’ll take him there for a run. And then when he’s nearly home, we’ll tell him it’s Gulf.”

“ If he comes,” said Mansel, “you shall do with him what you will. But don’t take our luck for granted. One of these days the fine weather’s going to break.”

As though to deny this precept, some eight hours later, Bell drove into Latchet and picked up a wire for Cain. And this was from Biretta, to say that he should reach Villach at half-past two the next day.

Now though we had spoken lightly the night before, if China had told us the truth and Cain in fact intended to bury Gulf’s body by Latchet, it was important that we should spoil his game. We had certainly told him that, if any body was found, we should go to the British Consul without delay: but we did not want to do that, if for no other reason, because, if we did, the case would pass out of our hands and persons other than we would deal with Cain and the Duke. And Cain was not now in the mood to care about threats. The man must be very near desperate: and the telegram from Collards might well push him over the edge. After all, Bowshot was missing: and if some body was found which bore his name and address, incriminating papers or no, it might be hard to disprove that that body was his.

China had said on Sunday that Cain was ‘keeping Gulf’ and was ‘going to plant him by Latchet any day now.’ And now it was Wednesday. All things considered, it seemed much more than likely that, during the last two days, the burial had taken place. And since we had nothing to do until Biretta arrived, George and I set out, with Rowley and Bell, to prove the ground we had proved when first we came, that is to say, the ground which neighboured the path which led from Latchet up to the Salzburg road.

As we had done in those days, we did again. We took the Salzburg road and we berthed the car in the track which nobody seemed to use. And then we walked up to where the two tracks crossed, to take the second track and so come back to the road. And there our quest was ended before it had fairly begun, for, a few feet beyond the cross, where the track turned into a ride, the turf had been sliced and lifted and then stamped back into place.

After all, it was not surprising that they had chosen this place. Forecast had excellent reason to remember the second track, and the spot was very private and favoured the work to be done, for a car could be driven right up to the very side of the grave.

“No doubt about that,” said George. “Get the implements, Rowley. Oh, and take my coat, will you? And shove it into the car.”

“That’s all right, sir,” said Rowley. “You and Mr Chandos, keep watch. Bell and I’ll do it quicker than you.”

And so it was.

As a matter of fact, the business was very soon done, for the body was covered by scarcely a foot of earth. Still, Bell and Rowley were men who never did things by halves, and when Bell came to ask for Gulf’s passport, he gave me a dirty envelope bearing John Bowshot’s address.

“Well done indeed,” said I.

“It was easy enough, sir. It was in the first pocket we come to. Shall I put the passport there?”

“Yes,” said I, and, with that, I took out matches and burned the envelope up.

Forty-five minutes later we were back at the farm.

Well before dawn the next morning, Mansel and Carson went out again with the Rolls. According to Mansel, they went ‘to have a look round.’ But when he said that he meant to leave the Rolls at Four Mile Point, I knew that once again he was bound for the hunting-lodge: for, when we had surveyed the country surrounding the lodge, we had always left the cars in a coppice four miles south-east of the place and, for the sake of convenience, had given this spot the name of Four Mile Point.

To my relief they were back by nine o’clock; but they did not say what they had done, but only that, just before seven, Cain and Forecast and Auger had left the lodge for the castle in Forecast’s car. This left no doubt in our minds that they hoped to draw us by night to the hunting-lodge. And I think they had reasoned like this – first, that they wished to fight us upon their ground; then, that we were not such fools as to try to attack a castle with forty-foot walls; then, that the lodge was easy enough to enter; and then that, by night, it was easy enough to approach without being observed. This reasoning was good enough, so far as it went: but they were up against time, while we were not; and so there was no reason why we should do as they wished. In a word, we preferred to fight them upon
our
ground. Moreover, there is a saying, ‘In vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird.’

George and I were upon the platform, when Biretta’s train steamed in. But we were only in reserve. The duty of meeting the man had been given to Bell; and very well he did it, picking him out before I could and touching his hat to the blackguard and taking his suitcase and rug.

“Well, Saul may take to him,” said George; “but somehow I don’t think he will.”

Biretta was truly repulsive. He was short and fat and greasy and overdressed. His skin was very swarthy, his hair was black and he had a way of pursing his heavy lips. His face was fleshy, his eyes were small and close-set, and his air was very pompous, as is the way of small fry when an unfamiliar greatness is thrust upon them. Indeed, he received Bell’s attentions with great contempt, addressing him very rudely and walking out of the station as though resenting the fact that a man so far beneath him should have to show him the way.

Without, the Rolls was waiting, with Carson standing stiffly by one of its doors; but Biretta ignored his salute and entered the car. Bell put in his things, and Carson shut the door: then they took their seats in front and the car moved off.

Though Biretta did not know it, the Rolls was bound for Goschen, and Carson drove there slowly, that George and I, in the Lowland, might get there first. So all was in order before the Rolls arrived.

Mansel and George were in the parlour; and I was seated outside an open window, so that, though I could not be seen, I could hear all that passed. (In fact, I saw everything, too, for Biretta’s back was towards me for the whole of the time.)

At last the door was opened, and Rowley ushered Biretta into the room.

The man stared upon Mansel and then upon George.

Then Mansel spoke with an accent.

“Be seated, Mr Biretta. I have some questions to ask.”

“What does this mean?” said Biretta. “And where is Cain?”

“Mr Cain is in Salzburg,” said Mansel. “His arrest was effected yesterday afternoon.”

Biretta collapsed.

I do not mean that he fell, though how his legs held him up I shall never know. But his face and his body sagged, and the airs which he had put on fell away as a cloak falls away, when the fastening about the shoulders has been released. A hand went up, as though to cover his mouth.

Mansel indicated a chair.

“Be seated,” he said.

Biretta swayed to the chair and sat down on its edge. He was breathing hard, and his face was shining with sweat.

Mansel stepped to the table behind which George was sitting, pencil in hand.

Then he spoke in German.

“The notes of the interview,” he said.

George gave him the notes we had made of his conversation with Cain just six days ago.

Mansel returned to Biretta.

“Mr Cain,” he said, “insists that he had nothing to do with – a certain affair.”

“A – a certain affair?” said Biretta.

“Major Bowshot’s attempted murder.”

Biretta wiped the sweat from his face.

“I will read you his words,” said Mansel. “‘The first that I knew of this business was when a wire signed WENSLEY was brought to me the Saturday before last. Biretta, my partner, was cruising. I sent for his managing clerk and asked what it meant. Then the whole story came out. I was inexpressibly shocked–’”

“It’s a filthy lie,” mouthed Biretta.

Mansel shrugged his shoulders.

“That remains to be seen,” he said, coldly. “Mr Cain was most definite. He has made and signed a statement to that effect.”

“May I see it?” said Biretta.

Mansel shook his head.

“That would not be in order. But he made it perfectly clear that, had you been available, he would never have come; but that, since you were not available–”

“I saw him off at Croydon – if that’s any good.”

Mansel looked at him sharply.

“But Duke Saul is your client?”

“He’s just as much Cain’s.”

“But Mr Cain said–”

“I don’t care what he said. He’s a filthy liar, I tell you.’’

Mansel held up a hand.

“Restrain yourself, please. And listen. I first saw Mr Cain the day before yesterday. When he declared that he was deputizing for you, I said, that since you were not here to speak for yourself, I could not accept that plea: that I knew nothing of partners or partnership: that he was here on the spot and that he was deeply involved in a very serious crime. He then said this – that if I would postpone his arrest, he would telegraph to you and ask you to come. I confess I thought it unlikely that you would do as he asked. However, it seems that he was successful.”

Biretta’s face was working; his eyes were like slits.

Mansel proceeded, calmly.

“Unhappily, I had to order his arrest the following day. I will tell you why. A document came into my hands. This document satisfied me that some of the statements which Mr Cain had made were not in accordance with truth. This rendered the whole statement suspect, for, if what can be checked is untrue, how can we believe what we are unable to check?”

Biretta moistened his lips.

“You mean you don’t believe that he wasn’t in this business up to the neck?”

“I do not say that. I say only that I am not satisfied that Mr Cain is as innocent as he makes out.”

Biretta mopped his face.

“D’you want me to make a statement?”

“That, Mr Biretta, will be a matter for you. But first, if you please, I have some more questions to ask. A Mr Forecast, I think, is in your employ.”

Biretta swallowed.

“My firm was in touch with him.”

“Please do not mistake my meaning. I said
‘your
employ.’ Mr Cain–”

Biretta sprang to his feet.

“For God’s sake get this,” he cried. “Cain is trying to climb out of this on my back. The Duke was
our
client, and Forecast was in
our
employ. I don’t deny that I knew what was going on. I did. I knew everything. But this I will say, and that is that Cain took the lead. That is why, ten days ago, he came out instead of me. And now that he’s in deep water…” With trembling hands, he dragged out a pocket-book and plucked forth a telegram. “Read that,” he said, wildly. “Read that.” Mansel took it out of his hand. “That is his lying enticement to make me come out.
Everything satisfactorily arranged…we can return together at end of week
. He doesn’t say
Come out and face the music with me
.” His voice rose to a scream. “He’s a treacherous hound, I tell you. And if you hadn’t arrested him, he would have been over the frontier before I’d even arrived.”

“I think, perhaps,” said Mansel, “that that was in his mind. But, unknown to Mr Cain, I saw this telegram as soon as it had been dispatched. I found its wording suspicious. And from then, until he was arrested, his movements were watched. But that is by the way. Duke Saul of Varvic is also under arrest.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then–

“Has – has he made a statement?” said Biretta.

“No. He preserves complete silence. But Mr Cain, by his statement, has indicated his Highness as, what I will call, the prime mover in this most serious affair.”

Biretta said nothing.

Mansel leaned forward.

“He says, shortly, that early this summer, the Duke instructed you to arrange that Major Bowshot should meet with a violent end.”

Biretta wiped the sweat from his face. I observed that his head was moving, against his will.

Mansel continued quietly.

“Everyone knows that abnormal clients do give abnormal instructions. But what I could not understand was why you carried them out. I told Mr Cain as much. He replied that he could not answer for you” – Biretta stiffened – “but that he could only suppose that the Duke was to pay very well. I pointed out at once that you must have had some more powerful inducement than that: but he said that, if you had, he had no idea what it was. Now at the very time that Mr Cain was making this statement, unknown to him, his luggage was being searched. And there a paper was found – a paper which, I fear, Mr Cain had hoped to conceal.”

Here Mansel spoke in German to George; and George picked up and brought him the copy of Forecast’s instructions which we had made.

Mansel returned to Biretta.

“This is a copy of that paper – that is to say, of the document to which I referred just now.”

He held it out for inspection. And Biretta peered at it, and then averted his eyes.

“Now when I had considered this paper, two things became clear. The first was that, as I have said, some of Mr Cain’s statement was clearly untrue. And the second was that my instinct had not been at fault – that you had had some powerful inducement to carry out the instructions which you had received from the Duke. That inducement, it seemed, was this – that, quite apart from the Duke, you were only too anxious that Major Bowshot should die.”

“ I – I can’t accept that,” said Biretta.

“Can’t you? Listen to this.
In all your dealings with the Duke, never lose sight of the fact that what we must have is proof of Bowshot’s death. That is all you are after. But he must not realize this, for, if he were to, he would wash his hands of the matter. He must be made to believe that we are acting solely in his interests. In fact, we are using him
.”

With a manifest effort Biretta controlled his voice.

“As Major Bowshot’s solicitors, it was obviously desirable that we should be in a position to prove his death.”

“Convenient, desirable or – vital, Mr Biretta?”

“I – I said ‘desirable.’”

Mansel’s hand shot out.

“So ‘desirable’ that this man Forecast was to go to the length of producing some other corpse…which he had previously furnished with Major Bowshot’s name and address.”

Biretta made no reply. The involuntary movement of his head became more pronounced.

Mansel continued mercilessly.

“When I had read these instructions, I ordered your partner’s arrest. But that was not all I did. I sent for Mr Forecast and had a conversation with him. And he, too, has signed a statement.”