Gale Warning (12 page)

Enter the
place
we dared not, for the
place
was so very small that we should have been parading before our gentleman’s eyes: there was no room to turn round, and, because of the traffic behind, we could not retreat: yet Bell and Audrey escaped – by taking a turning which they had already gone by.

I cannot tell how they did it, for I had gone on to a café on the opposite side of the place, from where I could watch the Swindon – and her chauffeur, standing beside her,
inspecting every car that came into his view
. And I must confess that I had a very bad time, until Rowley pushed his way past me and murmured that all was well.

At once I paid for my liquor and followed him into a shop; and there he said that the taxi and both the cars were berthed in a little alley not more than a hundred yards off, and that if I would move to a café some thirty yards east, I should still be able to have the Swindon in view, yet could myself be seen from where he proposed to stand as connecting-file.

Two minutes later, these dispositions were made.

I was sitting beneath an awning, beside a small screen of privet, growing in tubs, surveying the busy
place
and watching the Swindon’s chauffeur tighten some nut: and Rowley, guide-book in hand, was standing upon a pavement some fifty yards off, apparently conning his surroundings, after the way of a tourist determined to call back Time.

Now Plato had disappeared before I had entered the
place
, but it seemed pretty clear that he was within the Cathedral – a somewhat disturbing thought. Indeed, had I dared, I would have entered myself, in case he was using the church as we had made bold to use it two days before. But there again we were held, because our force was so small; for to search such a shrine would have needed three or four men, and since there was more than one door, to leave my post would have been to stake on a shadow what little substance we had. For all that, when ten minutes had passed, but Plato had not reappeared, I began to get so uneasy that I could hardly sit still, for if indeed Barabbas were in the Cathedral, by sitting outside we were throwing victory away. And then, to my great relief, I saw Plato come out – and the moment I saw him I knew that my fears had been vain. The man was but playing a part, and playing it devilish well.

He was wearing clerical clothes – of course to publish the fact that he was a man of God: and there can, I think, be no doubt that his visit to the Cathedral was paid to adorn this truth, for he came forth as though refreshed, fairly breathing goodwill and wearing his cloth as though it were levee dress. He beamed upon English tourists, saluted and was saluted by cassocked priests; but he never looked at his chauffeur, standing beside the Swindon and smoking a cigarette. The latter watched his progress across the
place
, and a hand went up to his mouth, as though to conceal a smile: and I think he may be forgiven, for Plato’s performance was really masterly, and nobody could have doubted that he was a man who was used to devote his life to the glory of God and the health of his fellow men.

(Here perhaps I should say that, as I was later to learn, Plato was known among thieves as ‘The Kingdom of Heaven’ – a trenchant sobriquet. To his face he was always called ‘Kingdom,’ by such as were high enough up to be so familiar.)

He took a street which led to a decent hotel, and since it was now past twelve, I had little doubt that he was proposing to lunch. If I had had time, I would have summoned Rowley and sent him off in his wake, for I did not like the idea of the man’s being out of our ken: but the start which he had was too long, so I turned again to the Swindon and hoped for the best.

Could we have been sure that Plato had gone to his lunch, we could have taken things easy, if only for half an hour: but here the proof of the pudding was in the eating alone, and though I did leave my table to wash my hands, I was back within thirty seconds – in case of accidents.

Of such is the luck of the game, and we had no cause for complaint: but we had been up all night, while Plato had not, and it was extremely provoking to imagine him taking his ease, whilst we, who were far more weary, were waiting upon his pleasure, because we could do nothing else.

I should not have minded so much if I could have been with Audrey, or at least have visited her, to tell her what was happening and see that she rested a little and broke her fast; for, when all was said and done, she was only a girl and had now been doing duty for more than twelve hours on end.

I remember I was picturing her, as I had seen her so often, making the pace, her steady gaze fixed upon the distance, her eager lips just parted, and her very beautiful profile as still as that of some statue set up in a hall, when Plato’s chauffeur looked round and then began to walk slowly across the
place
.

To my disquietude, he seemed to be making directly for where I sat, but, as he approached, he began to bear to the left, and two or three moments later he entered a newspaper shop. But though I was greatly relieved, my relief was short-lived, for when he came out, he looked again at the Swindon and then walked into my café and called for some beer.

While this was being brought, he looked about for a seat from which he could view his car and finally sat himself down at the very next table to mine, with his back to my face.

Whether he studied me, I have no idea, for I was staring over the privet, with my elbow upon the table and my chin in the palm of my hand, and all I had seen of him I had seen with the tail of my eye: but my feelings may be imagined, because the last thing I desired was that either he or his master should get to know me by sight.

Now my impulse was to be gone as soon as ever I could, but I had the sense to perceive that any withdrawal must be most casually done, for, because of his occupation, the fellow was on the alert and was bound to remark any movement which anyone close to him made: and if such a movement should seem in any way strange, he would measure the man who made it, for future reference.

So, without more ado, I proceeded to drink up my beer, of which, as luck would have it, my glass was three-quarters full. But I dared not drink it right off, so I drank it leisurely, looking about for a waiter whom I could ask for my bill.

Meanwhile my friend settled down to the paper which he had bought – a well-known English paper, which had been published that day.

He opened it wide, I remember, and scrutinized some item low down on a page: I rather think he was reading the racing news. But his action displayed to me the whole of the opposite page, and though I was not at all minded to read the paper just then, I could not help seeing the head-lines which graced that particular sheet.

And then the name ‘STOMER’ hit me between the eyes.

George’s Will had been proved, and its contents were out.

I think I shall see the head-line as long as I live.

FORTUNE FOR HUNTING CRONY.

And there was my photograph…a very excellent likeness, as I could see for myself.

There was only one thing to be done, and I did it at once.

I poured what was left of my beer into the tub at my side, got to my feet somehow and walked uncertainly into the café itself.

My waiter was not to be seen, and so I went up to the bar and laid down a five-franc piece.

A man who was polishing glasses, lifted his head.

“Good morning, sir,” he said. “And what have you had?”

“By God, you’re English,” I said.

“That’s right, sir. I own this place.”

I leaned over the bar towards him and spoke very low.

“Look here,” I said. “Have you got a door at the back? There’s a wallah sitting out there, and I’d rather he didn’t see me before his time.”

The other raised his eyebrows.

“So?” he breathed. “Well, we get all sorts in this town. Come this way, sir,” he added, and made for a door on his right.

A moment later he let me into a street.

“I’m much obliged,” said I, and put out my hand.

The Englishman took it in his.

“That’s all right, sir,” he said. “That chauffeur bloke?”

“That’s him. But for God’s sake mind your step, or he’ll get ideas.”

“Not from me, sir, he won’t. Goodbye.”

A sudden thought entered my head.

“D’you own this house?” said I.

“I live upstairs, sir,” he said, “if that’s what you mean.”

“Will you lend me a first-floor window for half an hour? If you will, I’ll send one of my men to take my place.”

My friend was plainly impressed.

“Send him along, sir, and tell him to come this way.”

“In two minutes’ time,” said I. “Goodbye, again.”

Three minutes later, I was standing on the pavement, studying Rowley’s book, and Rowley was leaning against the jamb of a window, directly above the awning beneath which the chauffeur sat.

‘All’s well that ends well,’ says the proverb, and so perhaps it is. But, now that I had time to reflect, I found myself weak at the knees. It had been a very near thing. More. From this time on, neither his chauffeur nor Plato must see my face. So far they had not seen it – at least, that was my belief. But now they had been warned against me: and that, by Fortune herself.
Behold the man to beware of – St Omer’s friend
. One glimpse of me in the car would be more than enough to cancel all we had done and bring to nothing all we had hoped to do.

It was no good cursing our luck, but I must confess I felt sore that now on this day of all days we should be forced to carry this extra weight. As it was, the odds against us were heavy enough. Hitherto I had done what I could to keep Bell well in the background in case either Plato or his chauffeur knew him by sight: but from now on I myself, who was leading our enterprise, must take the greatest care on no account to be seen, for master and man alike would have my face fresh in their minds. Indeed, I can say with truth that I know exactly how those unfortunates feel who have a price on their heads, who see their photographs staring out of the public prints.

I had told Rowley that when he saw the chauffeur go back to his car, he was to come downstairs and sit by the privet hedge, and that when the Swindon moved off he must somehow rejoin the taxi, which would, of course, take the lead. It would have been very much simpler for me to do this, but now I dared not do it, because I feared to travel so close to the Swindon’s tail. Thanks to this decision, which may have been bad, we very nearly lost Plato for good and all, for soon after two o’clock, the Swindon swung out of her berth and turned to the left and then passed Rowley and me – with my face to the wall.

This meant that Rowley must cover a hundred yards – and the taxi wait while he did so, before taking up the pursuit: but though he was running like a madman, the Swindon was now well away, and, as she must turn any moment, I let out a roar for Audrey to take the lead.

She was by my side in a flash: but the Swindon was gone.

As I opened the door—

“The first to your right,” I cried, “as quick as you can. Hang on the corner, for the others to see where we go.”

With storming gears, the Lowland sped to the corner – just in time.

As Audrey slowed up, I saw the Swindon swing out and turn to the left.

“They’re coming,” said Audrey. “They see us.”

“Then let her go.”

We were down the street in a flash.

As we came up to the turning, the taxi appeared behind us some eighty or ninety yards off.

Right and left again…keeping the Swindon in sight by the skin of our teeth…and playing connecting-file at thirty-five miles an hour…

And then we were all on the quay, and the Swindon was travelling west.

“Paris or Chartres,” said I, and gave the signal to Rowley to pass us as soon as he could.

A moment later the taxi raved on its way, and I sank back in my corner and breathed again.

“These towns,” I said. “Never mind. I’m so glad to be with you again. You did have some lunch, didn’t you?”

“I did very well,” said Audrey. “And you, St John?”

“You are sweet, aren’t you?” said I.

“Did you have some lunch?”

“I did not – by the grace of God. You can pour beer into a tub, but you can’t get rid of an omelet as easy as that.”

“What ever d’you mean?”

I told her what had occurred.

“Dear God,” said Audrey. And then, “I’ll try and make up.”

Before I could ask what she meant, the Swindon switched to the right – for Pont de l’Arche.

We were out of the city now and I told her to put on her lights.

“Just for a moment, my lady. That’s the signal to Rowley to be ready to drop the pilot and pay him off.”

The street we were in was turning into a road, and half a mile ahead I saw a convenient bend.

“As the Swindon rounds that bend, I want you to touch your horn. And when the taxi pulls up, please stop alongside.”

“Don’t say ‘please’ any more, my dear. It makes me feel so ashamed, and – I’m all right now.”

As she spoke, she put out her left hand, and I caught it in mine and kissed it and let it go.

“Now?” said Audrey.

“Yes – now.”

The moment she touched her horn, the taxi pulled in, and as it came to a standstill, we ran alongside.

Rowley was out in the road, with a note in his hand.

“Listen,” I cried. “We’re going to pass the Swindon any time now. But you are to stay behind and take no notice of us.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Put her along, my darling. You heard what I said.”

As the Lowland leapt forward—

“You see,” I said, “ it’s like this. I’m almost sure he’s making for Pont de l’Arche. And that is a danger spot. A long bridge over the river…in and out of the town…and slap up to four cross-roads about twice life-size. Well, that’s quite bad enough, for you’ve got to be right on his tail to be certain which way he goes. But say that he takes the Chartres road – as I have a feeling he will. That is a punishing hill – a punishing hill, dead straight for a couple of miles or more: and a man in a car that climbs it can see those cross roads below him until he is out of sight. But we can’t wait until then, for we can’t give him three minutes’ start – in country we hardly know.”

Audrey nodded.

“I’m there,” she said. “Just when and where shall I pass?”

“Not just yet,” said I. “Let her down a little: he’s just in front of that car.”

I made quite sure he was making for Pont de l’Arche. Then we followed him up a hill and bore to the right. And then I told Audrey to pass him – and go like hell.

The road was broad and empty and looked like a racing-track. And as such, indeed, we used it, for, because it was so inviting, the chauffeur had chosen this moment to let the Swindon go.

God knows at what pace we passed her, for Audrey’s foot was right down – and my head was between my knees; but when I ventured to lift it, the Swindon was not to be seen.

“They can’t have seen much,” said Audrey, and fell down another hill.

So we came to the River Seine and Pont de l’Arche.

Over the bridge we went, and in and out of the town. Then into the forest and up the punishing hill…

With my eyes on the cross roads, I waited until I could see them no more. And then I told Audrey to stop, snatched my binoculars, flung out of the Lowland and ran the way we had come.

It was very nearly two minutes before the Swindon appeared. With my heart in my mouth, I watched her come up to the crossroads…

And then she came on, as we had, to tackle the punishing hill.

As she started to climb, I saw what I thought was the Vane emerge from a cobbled street.

I ran for the Lowland, exultant.

“OK,” I cried. “He’s coming. Put her along. As it’s worked all right, I guess we’ll do it again.”

As Audrey let in her clutch—

“Just what d’you mean, St John?”

“We’ll try and lead him, sweetheart. Follow him with the glasses, but always keeping ahead. If he lets us down, Bell’s got him: and all we’ve got to do is to catch him up. But I don’t think he’ll twist our tail: I believe he’s through with his tricks and he’s going for Chartres.”

I will not set out in detail the rest of the journey we made on that blazing afternoon: indeed, if I did, I think it would fill up a book, for the way was long and every bend was a hazard – and every town was a nightmare, because a miss was so much worse than a mile.

Louviers, Evreux, Dreux – somehow we survived them all: and by hook and crook we led the Swindon to Chartres. And when I say ‘led,’ I mean it. For the whole of those sixty-odd miles, she was never once out of my sight for as much as two minutes of time.

It took a lot of doing, and that is the truth. Between the towns, we did little but spurt and stop and I continually left and re-entered the car: we proceeded, so to speak, by short rushes, as infantry used to do – a very exhausting business as well for Audrey as me.

Down, full tilt, to some valley and up the opposite side, to stop just over the crest and so out of sight: back on foot, to take cover behind some wayside tree: and then, when the Swindon appeared, back again to the Lowland and off, full tilt again, for the nearest bend: more slowly then, because of a road on the right, and coming to rest in a hollow a drive and a chip ahead: out of the car again, and ten steps back: and then off again, like fury, to gain our proper distance before the Swindon appeared.

On the level, our task was less wearing and yet more difficult, for we had to keep further ahead and I had to kneel on the seat and look through the window behind, continually turning my head to see what country was coming and how the road itself ran: then again, we could seldom stop, but could only play with our pace, losing ground when obscured by some lorry, and things like that.

But the open country was nothing compared with the towns.

Luckily these were well posted and Audrey’s sense of direction was very fine: her eye being very quick, she managed to pick her way through them without going wrong, but we had to make up our minds to let the Swindon come up uncomfortably close and to aim at keeping no more than a street ahead. And that was the devil and all, for we were not the only stuff on the road. At times the traffic stopped Plato, and more than once it stopped us – to bring the Swindon so close that, though by that time I was kneeling down on the floor-boards with my head as low as the seat, the sweat of apprehension was running upon my chest.

From what I have said, it will be manifest not only that Plato had seen us again and again – that is to say, seen the Lowland and Audrey sitting inside – but that we had made no attempt to keep out of his ken. This may have been a mistake: but, if it was, it was mine, for Audrey had no say in the line which I took. But, for what it is worth, this is the way I saw it that nerve-racking afternoon.

If a man is afraid of being followed, he will pay no attention at all to a car which is moving ahead – and that, for the very good reason that followers stay behind: and though a car is persistently leading his own, he will at the most assume that it is carrying someone whose way is his: his interest may be excited – faintly enough, but so long as that car behaves in a rational way, he will attach no importance to the something ding-dong business of alternately losing distance and gaining ground. But a car which stays behind him is doing as followers do, and so becomes more and more suspect with every mile.

The risks which we ran, by leading, are so very obvious that I will not point them out: but no man can have it both ways, and since we were running through country which I had never set eyes on, which Audrey had seen but once, I felt any risk was better than that of arousing suspicions which I believed to be dead. I was, of course, terribly worried about the Vane and wished a thousand times that I had told Rowley to fall rather further behind: still, I was ready to swear that, until he was this side of Rouen, Plato was unaware that there was such a car on his road; and that and the thought of the cunning which Bell would certainly show did something to combat misgivings which were, of course, as futile as they were importunate.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder if we should have done any better if I had had time to think: but I do not believe that we should, for the business was such a gamble from first to last that the instinct on which I relied served us as well as or better than could have circumspection itself.

Of level-crossings I went in the greatest fear, for had we come to one closed, we must have stood still while the Swindon came up to our tail – and, as like as not, Plato descended, to walk about the Lowland and look at her points: but this ordeal we were spared, though once we escaped it by seconds, and Plato was left behind. But though we thanked our stars, in a sense we had passed from the frying-pan into the fire, for the check which he thus received was more than enough to let us swim out of his ken; yet we had to let him catch up – yet not let him think we had loitered, to gain this end. Whilst I was racking my brain for some way out of this pass, I saw a filling station three furlongs ahead, and though we needed no petrol – for Bell had somehow or other replenished both tanks at Rouen – I told my lady to make for the apron of concrete and bring the Lowland to rest by one of the pumps.