Get Wallace! (13 page)

‘Will you put to sea on a night like this?’

‘We must, there is no choice.’

‘But search the house first. They may have got in somehow when everyone was outside.’

‘That is absurd – they could not have done it. The doors and windows were watched. This man must have had a rope over the wall, and they escaped by that means. However, Hepburn and the others can search while I collect my papers.’

‘Perhaps they have been taken.’

Ictinos laughed gruffly.

‘Impossible. Only I know where they are, and that is a place that could be tampered with by nobody. Be quick, Thalia, we must be away in half an hour. Most of us are ready to go. Are you?’

‘It will not take me long. How will you communicate with the caretakers? Some day we must recover possession of the furniture and other articles here. It would be very sad to lose them.’

‘We have more important things to think of than caretakers just now,’ he responded sharply. ‘There will be time tomorrow to send a telegram to them.’

He left the room. The men hidden behind the curtain heard the girl moving about for some minutes, once she actually approached close to them, and Wallace made ready to spring out on her, but she walked away again directly afterwards, leaving the bedroom probably to get something from her boudoir. While she was away, Cousins rapidly, and in a whisper, gave his companion the gist of the conversation they had overheard. Sir Leonard had been able to gather what some of it was about, but his lack of knowledge of the Greek language made it impossible for him to understand much.

He chuckled softly.

‘So his papers are hidden in a place that nobody could find, are they?’ he commented. ‘If I’m not mistaken, there’ll be more fireworks presently.’

He had hardly finished speaking when a commotion broke out below. The deep voice of Ictinos could be heard raised in
apparent anger, other voices forming a sort of chorus to it. Wallace and Cousins smiled at each other. Thalia re-entered the bedroom, dropped something on the floor that sounded like a suitcase, and ran out again, calling down to her father to know what was wrong. He shouted back something, and she descended rapidly to join him.

‘How about making an attempt to get away now, sir?’ suggested Cousins. ‘While their attention is occupied down below, we might be able to lower ourselves from the window, and escape.’

Sir Leonard shook his head.

‘If possible,’ he returned, ‘I mean to find out their destination. I haven’t finished with Ictinos yet. There is something else I want from him, which it seems is hidden elsewhere.’

Cousins eyed him curiously, but made no comment. The hubbub downstairs continued for some time; then could be heard the movement of several people on the upper floor. It was evidently a search party. A man actually came as far as the bedroom, but a voice from somewhere farther away told him it was no use searching Miss Ictinos’ room.

‘She’s only just come out,’ he added, ‘and if there had been anyone there, she would have spotted him.’

‘It’s a waste of time, anyhow,’ returned the fellow at the door. ‘You can bet they’re well away by now. I’m going to put some clothes on. I don’t fancy a trip in that perishing motorboat in this get-up. I’m almost frozen stiff now.’

He moved away, and the two men in the room breathed again.

‘Luck doesn’t seem to have deserted us after all,’ muttered Wallace.

Thalia Ictinos came running up the stairs. She was apparently accompanied by the dwarf.

‘These two, Paul,’ she said, as she entered the room. There was
a grunt, and the sound of unsteady retreating feet, suggesting that a heavy burden was being carried. Wallace, taking a chance, looked cautiously round the curtain. He saw her, dressed in a fur coat, pulling a waterproof over her shoulders. A sou’-wester covered her glorious hair, while her legs were encased in gum-boots. She turned in his direction, and he drew back out of sight. A minute later the light went out; they heard the door close, and all was quiet. Quickly Wallace was across the room, looking through the keyhole. He saw her descending the stairs. She was presently followed by two men who appeared from the other end of the passage; then Ictinos emerged from a room close by, a suitcase in either hand. He paused at the top of the stairs, and called out to someone. A voice answered from below and, apparently satisfied, he switched out the corridor light, and went down. Whispering to Cousins to follow carefully, Sir Leonard quietly opened the door. The two of them, treading cautiously, descended in the wake of the crooks, who were apparently gathered together some distance along the hall towards the back of the house. Ictinos, still in a great rage, was talking to them.

‘I do not care what you declare or swear,’ he was saying. ‘I am convinced that it was Sir Leonard Wallace and no other who was in this house tonight. He was never in the second car, and our belief that he was killed is nonsense. Somehow he tracked you here and got inside. He must have watched me at work in my study and, when I went to bed, stole the papers I have lost. After that he rescued the man Cousins, whom I should have killed, when he first came here. You are bunglers, all of you. Three times in one day Wallace has been allowed to escape death or capture. By whom am I served – men or suckling babes?’

‘You can’t blame us for tonight’s episode,’ retorted the voice
of Hepburn harshly. ‘Miss Ictinos should have shot both of them when she caught them in the study. And none of us asked you to keep that little rat Cousins alive, did we? If we have bungled, so have you, and a great deal more. You’ve even lost plans worth hundreds of thousands which Danson and I got for you. What have you got to say to that? Nothing; except to blame us. I’d like to know where you’d be without me, anyhow.’

‘How dare you talk to me like you – you murderer,’ roared Ictinos.

‘Murderer!’ laughed the other sarcastically. ‘A case of the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it? Why, almost lily-white compared with you.’

‘Perhaps you would like to stay behind, and face the music,’ came in tones that had altered to a soft, silky utterance. ‘You can if you like, my friend Hepburn. Now that it is known about your ability to impersonate people, you are not of much further use to me.’

Hepburn again laughed.

‘I can see you agreeing that I should stop,’ he sneered. ‘I know too much for that.’

‘Ah! So you threaten me, eh?’

‘Not a bit of it. I’m willing to stay with you and be loyal to you, so long as you don’t push the blame for everything that goes wrong off your own shoulders on to mine or these fellows here.’

‘I put the blame where the blame should be, and I will not be dictated to by—’

‘You men are absurd,’ interrupted Thalia impatiently. ‘You stand here quarrelling when, at any moment, the house may be raided. What is past is past. Let us go!’

‘She is right, except for one thing,’ came from Ictinos, after a
short pause, during which he had calmed down.

‘We will forget the blunders made, and have no further recriminations. I have perhaps been a little hasty. But what is past is not past where Wallace is concerned. Unless we kill him, I am convinced our endeavours will fail or suffer badly. He stands in the way. From now on we must resolve to spare no efforts to remove him. Remember always, when the opportunity arrives: get Wallace! Now no more talking. We will proceed.’

‘Are we really going to try to reach the yacht?’ asked Danson.

‘Not only try, but succeed, my friend.’

‘But it is still blowing hard, and I doubt if the motorboat will live in that sea.’

‘She would live in a hurricane. It will be wet, but not too dangerous. Our friend Hepburn is the best of pilots.’ The light in the hall was extinguished.

‘I thought I was not of much further use,’ retorted Hepburn, who was apparently still nursing his grievance.

Ictinos made some reply as they were moving away, which the listeners did not catch. The latter’s curiosity was aroused by the fact that the gang did not make for the front door, but went on towards the back of the house. Followed closely by Cousins, Wallace quickly ran down the remainder of the stairs. At the bottom he craned his neck over the banister, but could not see where they had gone, the green baize door having closed behind them. Softly he tiptoed along the passage, pushed open the door a few inches, and looked through the gap. He found that the corridor continued, a lighted apartment at the end throwing out sufficient illumination to enable him to see that two or three more rooms, probably kitchens and a pantry, opened into it. But he was not interested in these. From the sound of voices he gathered that
Ictinos and his followers were in the rear, probably about to go through the back door. Bidding Cousins stay and keep watch in case all were not there, and holding his revolver ready, he crept along the passage; found himself peeping into a large scullery. A trapdoor in the centre of the room had been raised, and, through it, the conspirators were descending one by one. Ictinos was the last to go, and Wallace succeeded in obtaining a good view of him, marvelling once again at his extraordinary breadth of shoulder, and noticing, for the first time, how short he was in comparison to his width. The watcher dodged back as the Greek gave a glance round the scullery before switching off the light, and following the others through the trap. Then Wallace hurried back to Cousins; told him where they had gone.

‘There is probably a cave underneath this house where the motorboat is kept,’ he added. ‘I’m going after them. If possible I want to find out the name of the yacht they spoke about, otherwise it’s going to be a devil of a job to find them again. I’ll leave the trapdoor open, and you keep watch. If you hear a shot, come down to my assistance, but don’t show a light; the reflection might be seen.’

He went back to the scullery, found the handle of the trapdoor without much difficulty, and lifted it. Pushing the revolver within easy reach in his breast pocket, he felt round, discovered the steps, and began to descend gingerly. There were far more than he expected, and he seemed to be going down an interminable time. As far as he could ascertain he was in a narrow shaft dropping almost perpendicularly, and the steps were rungs of an iron ladder or ladders riveted to the rock. He was wondering how much farther he would have to descend, when something struck his head and shoulders with tremendous force, tearing his hand from its
grip, and hurling him downwards. Fortunately he had been near the bottom, but even so the impact with the rock shook most of the breath from his body. In a daze at first, he felt something on top of him, clawing at his throat, and uttering low snarling cries like a savage animal. He began struggling desperately to tear away the hold but, with one hand, was at a disadvantage, while the creature mauling him seemed to be possessed of considerable strength. The clutch on his windpipe increasing, he had a difficulty in breathing, flames began to dance before his eyes. Abruptly he changed his tactics; his hand dropped away from the claws of the creature on him; he lay inert. His assailant relaxed its grip, probably thinking it had rendered its victim unconscious, the pressure on his chest was relieved, and Wallace was able to slide his hand to his breast pocket. Taking hold of his revolver by the muzzle, he suddenly threw himself on one side. Caught unaware, the creature was for the moment at his mercy. He felt for, found its head; then, just as the clawing fingers reached him again, brought down his weapon with sickening force. There was a grunt, the body fell back, and lay still.

Sir Leonard rose somewhat shakily to his feet. There was not a glimmer of light anywhere; an impenetrable blackness seemed to cloak him on all sides. He felt, therefore, that he could risk a light for a moment. Presently a ray of brilliant illumination stabbed the darkness and was focused on the body lying at his feet then was switched off again.

‘The dwarf!’ he mused. ‘That’s a nuisance. Somebody will probably come back to look for him. I wonder where he came from.’

He ventured another look at the recumbent man, decided that he would probably remain unconscious for some time then, having
found in which direction to go, proceeded cautiously on his way.

Before long he collided with the rock, discovered that the passage took a turning to the right; went carefully on. He could hear the howling of the wind now, and the lapping of water. Presently the opaque blackness seemed to diminish. He turned another corner; stopped abruptly. Electric torches lit up the scene, giving him a perfect view of what was ahead of him. Twenty or thirty yards farther on lay a large motorboat in an inlet from the sea. Although sheltered to a great extent from the storm that still raged without, she was rocking violently, her fenders every now and again coming into sharp contact with the ledge of rock to which she was moored. The latter made an excellent landing stage. Two men stood there looking somewhat anxiously in the direction of the cave. As Wallace watched, Ictinos appeared from the cabin amidships, frowning portentously. He said something to one of the men, who reluctantly began to walk in Sir Leonard’s direction. The fellow had almost reached the turning, when the Greek’s voice came booming along the gallery.

‘Hurry!’ it cried. ‘It will be daylight before we are aboard the
Electra
.’

Sir Leonard smiled to himself.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured softly, ‘that’s all I wanted to know,’ and stepped back into the darkness.

He retreated for some distance; then stood still awaiting the coming of the man he could not see, but whose footsteps were plainly discernible. It had occurred to him that, as he had been more or less forced by circumstances to have one prisoner on his hands, he might as well have two. The little fountain-pen-like torch was in his hand now, nestling by the side of the revolver. The approaching man also carried a flash lamp, but, as he kept its ray focused on the ground, he was not aware of the presence of Sir Leonard until the latter switched on his own light; then, for a moment, did not know who stood before him.

‘Where the devil have you been, Paul?’ he growled. ‘You’re keeping us all waiting. The guv’nor—’

‘Don’t make a movement, or you’re a dead man,’ came Sir Leonard’s stern command. ‘I am covering you with a revolver.’

A startled gasp broke from the alarmed man. His jaw dropped ludicrously; his eyes, wide open with fear, strove owlishly to pierce
the brilliant light full on him, in an effort to discover who was behind it in the gloom.

‘Who – who are you?’ he stammered.

‘That doesn’t matter. You can drop that torch. I’ve enough illumination here for two.’ The flashlight fell to the ground obediently. ‘In case you feel like playing any tricks,’ went on Sir Leonard, ‘this will perhaps warn you to refrain.’

He fired rapidly twice, the bullets humming close by the right ear of the now thoroughly frightened man. He ducked apprehensively. From the mouth of the cave could faintly be heard cries of consternation; directly afterwards came the staccato beat of a motor engine, at first in a hesitant manner; then more continuously, as it warmed to its work. Wallace smiled. He had counted on Ictinos taking alarm, and fleeing.

‘Your friends, it appears, have decided to leave without you,’ he observed. ‘Come along; this way, and remember that a revolver as well as a torch will be pointed full at the middle of your back.’

With a sound that was something between a curse and a groan, the man obeyed orders. Sir Leonard crushed himself against the wall of the cave to allow him to pass, following closely behind as he stumbled his way along. Suddenly another torch flashed out ahead.

‘Put your hands up,’ cried the voice of Cousins.

‘It’s all right,’ Wallace reassured him. ‘This chap is with me, and well covered. There’s another at the foot of the ladder having a little rest.’

‘Yes; I noticed him,’ chuckled Cousins; ‘in fact I stepped on him. I heard the shots, found a torch, and came down, expecting to find you in difficulties, sir.’

‘The only time I was in any difficulty,’ returned Sir Leonard,
‘was when that dwarf hurled himself down the ladder on me. Where did he come from? Didn’t you see him?’

‘No. Do you mean to say he followed you down?’

‘He did. Probably he was in the pantry, or hidden in the scullery, and saw me pass.’ They reached the foot of the iron ladder. Paul was still lying there unconscious. ‘Pick him up,’ ordered Sir Leonard, prodding his prisoner in the back. ‘You’ll have to carry him to the top. You go first, Jerry, and keep your gun handy.’

His orders were obeyed. Cousins hastened up, and stood by the trapdoor, his torch lighting up the shaft, and his automatic covering the man, who laboriously followed with the dwarf slung over his shoulder. Wallace stood at the bottom until all were up then, pushing his torch and the revolver into his pocket, ascended in his turn. In the scullery he examined Paul, who now lay on the floor breathing stertorously, after which he quietly inspected the man he had captured. The latter, whose battered face and large, ill-shapen ears denoted that he had once been a pugilist, stood sheepishly with downcast head, while Cousins, quickly and expertly searched him. He possessed no weapons.

‘Who are you?’ demanded Sir Leonard.

Cousins answered for the fellow.

‘His name’s Farrell, sir; the only one of the bunch who possesses any feelings of humanity. He did his best to give me a certain amount of fresh air in the box room by leaving the door wide open when I was not inside, and he actually found courage enough to protest when the steel belt was fastened on me and orders given for me to be kept chained. For that indiscretion Ictinos knocked him down, and kicked him.’

‘H’m!’ commented Sir Leonard. ‘You are apparently a little less poisonous than the rest of your crowd.’ He took from his pocket
the list of those serving Ictinos, and consulted it. ‘William Farrell,’ he read, ‘wanted by the Bristol police for robbery with violence, by the Metropolitan police for being concerned in three smash and grab raids, and by the police of Leeds for blackmail. A pretty hefty record, my man, which will probably get you anything from fifteen years upwards. Still, as you don’t appear to be wanted for murder like the rest of your companions, we might make things a little easier for you – if you are willing to give us all the information you can about the activities of Stanislaus Ictinos.’

‘Who are you?’ asked Farrell hoarsely.

‘Does that matter? However, if it will interest you at all to know, my name is Wallace.’

The battered face turned pale.

‘Hell!’ ejaculated the fellow. ‘Then you weren’t killed after all! The guv’nor was right.’

‘Yes; the guv’nor, as you call him, was right. Well, what is it to be? Are you coming clean, or refusing to talk? I might as well tell you that, apart from your criminal operations, I have the most utter contempt for you. A man who will take part in betraying his own country for gain or otherwise is, to my mind, the most despicable of worms. I can find no excuse for traitors whatever. Nevertheless, if you show willingness to assist us by telling us everything you know about Ictinos, I will use my influence with the police on your behalf.’

Farrell hesitated for some moments. At length he appeared to make up his mind.

‘What do you want to know?’ he asked sullenly.

‘I’ll tell you when we get to London,’ returned Wallace curtly. ‘Throw some water on the dwarf’s face. It’s time we brought him to.’

‘Take my advice,’ grunted Farrell, ‘and tie him up before he
comes to his senses. When he finds he’s a prisoner he’ll be like a wild cat. I know him.’

Sir Leonard’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Cousins, look round and see if you can find some rope.’

‘There’s some in that cupboard over there,’ indicated the ex-pugilist.

It certainly looked as though he had made up his mind to be of assistance. The rope was procured, and Cousins deftly trussed up the dwarf. Then Farrell emptied a basin of water on his face. Such drastic treatment on that icy cold morning proved quickly efficacious. Paul stirred; presently his eyes opened. He gazed in wonderment round him, a puzzled frown crossed his face when he became aware that he was bound; then, as memory reasserted itself, and he realised he was the prisoner of the man he had attacked in the shaft, he broke out into a high-pitched torrent of blasphemy in a mixture of Greek, French, and English, struggling madly the while to release himself. Sir Leonard watched him for a few minutes.

‘You were right,’ he observed to Farrell. ‘There is quite a lot of the wild cat about him. Tell me,’ he went on; ‘why did you warn us, when it was possible that, being ignorant of his character, we might have been taken by surprise, thus enabling you to make a bid for liberty?’

‘Oh, I guess I’m not so sorry it’s all over,’ replied Farrell in a somewhat shamefaced manner. ‘I’m pretty tough, but I couldn’t stomach some of the things the guv’nor did, and I’d had about enough. Besides it’s hell to be always wanted by the police; it gets on your nerves after a while. You can take it from me, sir, that I wouldn’t have got mixed up with Ictinos’ racket, if it hadn’t offered
a fair amount of security. I was only with the gang six months, and that was just about five months and a half too long. Anyhow, it’s quite a relief to be shot of them, and I can take my medicine without whining.’

‘How did the Greek get in touch with you?’

‘Came to the place where I was hiding up, and got me to join him. How he found out where I was, I don’t know, but I reckon he’s pretty well in with people who give shelter to fellows like me. He recruited his gang from those who have a price on their heads – it gives him a hold on them – but you seem to know all about that.’

‘Yes; I know all about that,’ agreed Sir Leonard. He turned to Cousins, and drew him aside. ‘Go out and see if the car is locked away,’ he whispered. ‘If so, let me know, and I’ll come and get the door open. If you can get to it, wireless headquarters – you know where the installation is, don’t you?’ Cousins nodded. ‘Tell them to send down two or three men to join Cartright and Hill, and also phone through to Lady Wallace that I’m all right. Then get in touch with Cartright, inform him about the disaster on the bridge, and tell him to get an ambulance out there. Notify him also that we’ll be along in about three quarters of an hour.’

Cousins hurried off, and Sir Leonard turned back to his prisoners. Farrell stood dejectedly with his hands in his pockets; the dwarf still continued to scream maledictions, but Wallace took no notice of him. He let down the trapdoor, and fastened it, after which, ordering Farrell to accompany him, and holding his revolver handy, he made a tour of the house, switching on all the lights and cursorily inspecting every room. He hardly expected that anything of importance would have been left in the building, and he had no time to make a meticulous examination, but the men he would send down would go through every apartment as
though with a small-tooth comb. Cousins returned while he was still on the upper storey.

‘The garage was unlocked,’ reported the little man. ‘They had searched it and your car pretty thoroughly, I should imagine, though how they could have expected us to get in, and lock the door on ourselves, I can’t think.’

‘Perhaps it never had been locked,’ remarked Wallace.

‘Oh, yes, it had, sir. You told me so, didn’t you?’ he asked, turning to Farrell.

‘That’s so,’ nodded the latter.

‘Well, it doesn’t matter,’ observed Sir Leonard. ‘Is everything all right?’

Cousins drew him out of earshot of the crook and, keeping his automatic turned on the man, told Wallace in a low voice that he had carried out his orders to the letter. He had one item of news, however, which relieved Sir Leonard’s mind a great deal. Maddison and Reynolds had not been killed in the smash, though both were badly injured, particularly the former. The wireless apparatus in the car had been shattered, but Reynolds, although suffering from a broken arm, two fractured ribs, and a badly cut face, had made his way to the house where Cartright and Hill were staying, and had informed them of the disaster. An ambulance had been immediately sent to the scene, and the police notified, Cartright telling the latter that Secret Service headquarters would get in touch with them concerning the affair. Maddison, with a fractured skull, and several other injuries, and Reynolds were now in hospital, but both were expected to recover. Poor Cunliffe was dead – had been shot through the head. Sir Leonard listened without comment, except to express his sorrow at the death of the young man, and his relief that the others were alive.

A few minutes later they left the house, Farrell carrying the dwarf who had now discontinued his ravings, but whose eyes glared hatred at the men into whose power he had fallen. Wallace locked the front door, and retained the key. The big gates were unbarred and opened and, with Cousins at the wheel, and Sir Leonard inside keeping a watchful eye on Farrell and the dwarf, who had been deposited on the floor, the car was driven rapidly towards the bridge connecting Sheppey with the mainland.

Glancing at his watch as they drew near the scene of the tragedy, Sir Leonard found that it was close on five. The wind had decreased considerably, and the sky had cleared a good deal, but it was still bitterly cold. A breakdown gang from Sittingbourne was already working to haul Maddison’s smashed car back to the road as they passed, and several members of the local police force stood by, but they did not stop, and no effort was made to detain them, though curious glances were turned in their direction. The fact that they were abroad at such an early hour no doubt caused a certain amount of surprise to men who did not know who they were.

The house in which Cartright and Hill had taken up their quarters was found without much difficulty. The former was awaiting them. Sir Leonard handed over the key of the house near Minster to him, giving him instructions to proceed there as soon as he was joined by the men from London. Enquiries elicited the news that Maddison had not regained consciousness, but that both he and Reynolds were doing as well as could be expected. A few further injunctions, and the car proceeded on its way. On arrival in London, Farrell and Paul were taken to Scotland Yard, and handed over to the inspector of the special branch then on duty, to be locked up and kept there until Wallace sent for them. Farrell
walked to his cell quietly, without uttering a word, but the dwarf, as soon as he was released from his bonds, fought and screamed like a wild animal. It eventually took three stalwart constables to carry him to a cell, where he was deposited none too gently, as a little punishment for his obstreperous behaviour, and the door locked on him.

Wallace found a very relieved Major Brien awaiting his coming at headquarters. The latter greeted Cousins first almost as he might have done an acquaintance risen from the grave; then turned eagerly to his friend.

‘By Jove! I’ve been anxious,’ he confessed. ‘I stopped here all night, expecting to hear from you, but, as hour after hour went by, and no news came through, I almost went dippy. Molly kept ringing up, too, but I did my best to reassure her.’

‘You’ve told her that everything’s all right, I hope.’

‘I have, my son. Rang her up as soon as Cousins’ message came through.’

Sir Leonard sank wearily into a chair, and yawned.

‘You’ll never be an ideal member of this service, Billy,’ he observed. ‘You are too prone to allow individual affections to cause you anxiety, and thus interfere with duty.’