I didn’t know, and George didn’t want an answer in any case, for he was opening the door again and passing me through. The cast of the tyre had set and he regarded it with a certain pleasure.
“A pretty big car,” he said. “Tyres well worn, and this rather nasty cut. Lucky I’m in the car business. Before to-night’s gone I’ll know a lot about that car.”
He was going to the town at once, he said, so I thought I’d accompany him. Just as our car was creeping round that sharp curve, Penelope Craye’s fast little car shot into the main road ahead of us. George, both hands grasping the steering-wheel like grimmest death, tried to catch her up or at least keep her in sight. Her car went straight on past the City turn towards the town, and then she outdistanced us. When we drew near that tea-shop, her car was parked outside. George said he had business through the back door of the police-station, so would I stay in the car and keep an eye on her. His gang of plain-clothes men were not due till a later train, which was really why he had come to the town.
George came back and she had not left the tea-shop. In five minutes, however, she was getting into her car again. Once more George moved ours off, but a hundred yards down the road she turned sharp left. When we got to the turn, George had to wrench round his wheel and keep to the main road, for her car was outside a garage just round that corner, and she was going off on foot along the side road. George drew our car up at the kerb and hopped out.
A good quarter of an hour later a small boy came shyly to the door and gave me a note. It was from George, saying I was to take the car back to my Camp, and he’d call for it later.
You may remember that I was due to interview the men who had been on guard at the Hall the previous night. Harrison had them assembled in a dining-hut, and I told him I’d do the job myself. First I tried a liberal use of commendation, praising the whole bunch for their keenness and the way they’d scuppered the Home Guard, who, I revealed, had been all picked men.
Next I tried something more crafty. When they knew the Home Guard had been on a stunt and duly discovered, did they forgather round the house to compare notes and rejoice, as it were?
They were too wary birds to admit that, but I was told that two patrol men took the prisoners to main guard, and so the actual guarding of the building was weakened to that extent till they returned, which was in about ten minutes.
“Now another question,” I said. “Naturally we all want to do this job as well as possible, and it’s up to all of us to find loopholes in the defence because the Home Guard might have another crack at us. So let’s look at things from what we know ourselves and from their point of view at the same time. In other words, is there any man here who fancies his chance of getting through our cordon?”
There was a buzz of talk and then one stocky little chap got to his feet and said he could.
“Good,” I said. “You’d be prepared to make the attempt, even if the guard knew an attempt was going to be made?”
“Yes, sir,” he said doggedly.
“Even if the conditions were that you forfeited a week’s pay if you lost?”
There was a laugh at that, but he held his ground.
“Right,” I said, and dismissed the parade. But the volunteer I kept back, and we had a friendly talk. His idea was that he’d first of all black his face and hands, and he’d wear rubber-soled shoes. In some places there was a lawn between the sentries And the house, and he’d choose one of them on which to slip across. I remembered then that there had been nothing but lawn beneath Brende’s window, but the dry winds had hardened it so that it would have been wasted time to look for footmarks.
“And then what?” I said.
Then he would wait till a patrol moved along, he said, and in a flash he’d be across behind him. And he’d be flat on his belly at once, in case he showed up against the house.
Well, I thought I’d try him out, and that very night, so I asked if he’d keep a still tongue in his head till a quarter-past nine, when I’d smuggle him into the park in my car. If he got through he was on a quid, and if he failed he stood to lose nothing. He was all for it, so I told him to report to my office at nine o’clock, his burnt cork with him.
On Sunday nights there was cold supper instead of dinner. I disposed of a meal and still there was no sign of Wharton. Nine o’clock came, and my volunteer, and Wharton had neither turned up nor phoned. Then by the time the volunteer was ready, Wharton was phoning. He hoped to be along at any minute, and he wanted to see me urgently.
I waited half an hour, then sent for the R.S.M. and explained all about the volunteer to him. Then I had a further idea, with which went the offer of a further quid. In fact, I wanted him to get through the sentries and then climb the wisteria into Colonel Brende’s bedroom. Then I made it even more difficult. Let both him and the R.S.M. get through into the bedroom and back again. The R.S.M. was keen as mustard. All he wanted was a few minutes to make preparations. I said he could take my car, and as soon as the stunt was over he was to ring me from main guard.
It was nearly ten o’clock when Wharton did turn up, and he said he could stay no more than a minute. What he wanted to see me about particularly was the conference which was on in the morning at eleven hours. At least three Big Bugs, he said, would be there, and I’d better be there too.
“We’ve got to put our heads together,” he said, “and decide what to let out and what to keep under our hats. For instance, if I were you I wouldn’t say a word about that crack on the skull.”
“Why not?”
He looked quite hurt. “Well, it wouldn’t look very well for the Commandant to be inspecting a stunt and to let himself get cracked on the skull. I’m only trying to do you a service.”
“And I’m grateful,” I said dryly. Then the phone went, and it was the R.S.M. In his tone were both satisfaction and regret.
“We pulled it off, sir, and then went and got caught on the way back. Sheer bad luck, sir. We waited till a patrol went by and nipped back behind him, but he hadn’t gone on. I reckon he was scrimshanking, but he says he was going back to tell the sentry something he’d forgot.”
“Good enough,” I said. “Tell me more about it later.”
I told Wharton what I’d been up to. He didn’t look any too pleased, and suggested I’d better keep that under my hat too at the conference. I had to smile.
“And what about you?” I said. “What are you keeping dark?”
“All about Major Passenden for one thing,” he said. “What are you clicking your tongue for?”
“Forget it,” I said. “I did have a theory about Passenden, but as it’s only a theory, you wouldn’t be interested.”
“But why not?” he asked with virtuous indignation.
“Never mind,” I said, and told him the theory about Passenden being the author of the anonymous letters that had so accurately predicted the kidnapping. George’s look of interest was what I call his bellicose one.
“I get you. That’s why he came down here instead of going to Scotland—to see Brende personally. Lucky I’ve got a man on his tail.”
When I asked what had delayed him in the town, he said it was the arrival of his men for one thing, and preliminary work over the next day’s conference for another. Then he was getting to his feet and grumbling about my having kept him.
“What about the lady you were following?” I asked as we went out to his car.
He did some tongue-clicking.
“Disappointing. Thought I was on something good. She’s got a little flat quite near that garage. Had it only a week.”
“Why shouldn’t she have a little place of her own?” I said. “She must have been bored to tears at the Hall. But where did the disappointment come in?”
“I put a man on the job,” he said. “Thought perhaps there might have been some carryings-on. Not a bit of it. Far as I can make out there’s never been a man there. And she’s using her own name.”
He was in the car, so I thought comment would be unhe
ard. Then, as he was ready to move off, he put his head out.
“One or two other things I’m keeping under my hat, by the way. What’s worrying those three brainy ones at the Hall, for instance, and how Master Ledd has something on his mind.”
Then with a wave of the hand he was going. George, I thought, did certainly think of things. Those three at the Hall had struck me as being not only worried but somewhat scared. And yet, I thought to myself as I strolled back to the office, there was every reason why the three should be alarmed. Perhaps the Hall would close down now as a research station. Even if Newton had so unexpectedly stated that things would go on as before, they just couldn’t go on as before. And what about that discovery which Brende had made? Brende was not a loose talker. If he had announced he was at last really on to something big, then that something was lost for good and all if nothing more was ever seen of Brende.
I was rather depressed that night when I turned in. The seriousness of things had a grip on me, and I knew they must be worrying Wharton too. If Brende’s discovery were lost, or if, worse still, it got into the wrong hands, then the consequences would be incalculable. The thought of that conference did me little good too. If the dear old W.O. was represented, anything might happen, and I might be the very scapegoat needed. One thing only did cheer me up: the thought that whatever it was, that conference would not be dull. Wharton would see to that.
CHAPTER X
Big Bugs
I WAS very hot and bothered when I arrived at that conference, and this is why. Like many a better man before me, I trusted too much to the infallibility of my car. When I got into it, it was still a quarter to eleven, which allowed ample time to get to the Hall and be nicely early. Then something went wrong and she wouldn’t start. I sweated and fussed for five minutes, and then young Craye happened to go by. I’ve no false pride, thank heaven, and I made no bones about calling him in.
He agreed with me that the trouble lay in the carburettor.
“Ten minutes and we can put it right, sir.”
“Ten minutes is no good to me,” I said. “I ought to be at the Hall in under five minutes’ time.”
“I’ll fix that, sir,” he said, and was off at the double. Next he was coming back in a car he’d borrowed from another officer. I got in, and almost forgot my attaché case, and off we went.
“I haven’t seen you for some time, Craye,” I said, and then remembered. “You’ve been on leave, haven’t you?”
“Long week-end, sir.”
“Have a good time?”
“Very, sir.”
He was a good driver and I told him so. Then he let on that he’d wanted to be a racing driver, and he’d put in spells at various works. As we came through the main gate I said I supposed he was often at the Hall. He grinned and was very frank.
“I generally see my aunt about once a week, sir, but I don’t think the Colonel loves me very much. That’s why I usually drive in the back way.” He grinned again. “Rather one in the eye for him, sir, if he sees me acting as your chauffeur.”
He brought the car round in an elegant sweep and we were at the front door. I told him I was very grateful as we’d made it with a minute to spare.
“That’s all right, sir,” he said. “If you ring up the Camp when you want to come back, sir, I’ll come along for you. Your case, sir. You’ve forgotten your case.”
So I had, and the grin I gave was a bit sheepish. Then I found I needn’t have worried after all. Wharton hadn’t told me that there was a preliminary conference at ten hours thirty, and it was still in session. It was a quarter of an hour later before I was called in.
Now I’m not going to bore you with details of that conference. There shall be no reports of speeches, no arguments, and no going over again of ground we have already trodden. As far as I can make it, everything shall be brand new, and with some bearing on the case.
Wharton had said there would be three Big Bugs at least, and there were actually four. In addition, Squadron-Leader Pattner was there, and a special stenographer. I daren’t think what would happen to me if I divulged names, and some of the things that were talked about, but when I think of it I recall a picture I saw in my youth, with Dreyfus on his last ignominious parade and a fat French General ripping the buttons off his tunic.
Three of the four had handles to their names. There was a brass-hat—gunner—from the War House, a high official of the Air Ministry, the head of a Government Research Department, and a Home Office representative. I shall allude to them as Gunner, Air, Hush, and Home. In fact, when you come to think things over, I was very much the louse in that collection of Big Bugs, for George Wharton was a mighty important person, and Newton was even more so, even if one judged only by the deference the four paid him.
The headquarters of the conference, which was something of a Court of Enquiry, were in the downstair office, which had been swept and garnished, and the dart-board removed, though I was somewhat amused to see copious marks of darts on the wainscot surround. What I at once gathered was that visits had already been paid to the upstair rooms and the outside grounds, for almost the first thing that happened was that Home read me the general conclusions at which the conference had arrived. These were that Brende had been kidnapped by persons unknown.
Pretty obvious, you may think, but after all, the enquiry was to establish itself on some sort of basis. The next thing was that I was called on to explain the steps taken for the security of the building and grounds. I was well provided with documents, thank heaven, and when I had finished, Gunner gave me a clean bill of health on the spot. Home, with a humour of which I had not suspected him, said he’d probably be advising that the Royal Family should change quarters at once.
“Is that all, gentlemen?” I said, when I’d replaced my documents.
Wharton whispered quickly to Home, who whispered to Hush. Hush asked me to remain, so down I sat again at the side table from which I had spoken. Then Newton was called in. What happened was this, and if there is repetition of anything you already know, consider it deliberate on my part. There were certain nails in the case which cannot be hit too hard and too often on the head. I would like you to remember too that Newton —modest, shy and very human—had his opinions treated with enormous respect. As one of the most distinguished of living scientists, he was entitled to no less.
I can’t breathe a word of his report on his work, in which Wissler and Riddle were closely collaborating, also I didn’t even understand a quarter of the terms he was using, especially when he directed himself to Hush and Gunner. What I gathered generally was this. The original ideas, the importance of which had at the time been recognized by all concerned—and especially by the W.O.—had been put forward by Colonel Brende, who had frankly stated his inability, brilliant mathematician though he was, to carry on into what I term guardedly—and perhaps erroneously—the realm of pure physics. That was why Newton and his collaborators had taken over, with the Colonel as nominal head.
But the Colonel was far too restless a person, and with far too alert a brain, to remain inactive, or merely a nominal head. He had other ideas, and he was working on them privately, in that upstair office of his. What they were, Newton had no idea.
“He had a special note-book,” Newton said, “and when he was very pleased with himself, he would come down here and wag it at us. He used to say he’d have us so-called experts all beaten yet. He did that on Saturday evening, only this time he hinted he really did have us beaten.”
“In other words, he’d really discovered something big,” put in Hush.
“Well—yes,” said Newton hesitatingly.
“Did you ever have a look at that note-book?” asked Gunner.
“Well—yes,” said Newton again. That hesitating manner of his was something of an irritation. “I mean, he once flipped the pages over in front of me, like this, and I saw he’d been going pretty deeply into—well, I hardly know how to put it. Advanced mathematics shall we say.”
“H
e wasn’t anything of a physicist?” asked Home.
“I don’t know,” said Gunner. “I came down here, as you know, to report progress, and Colonel Brende let me have a look at that book of his.” He leaned forward towards Newton. “A brown book, something like the old Field Service book.”
“That was the one,” Newton confirmed.
“Well, it had things in it that were far beyond me,” Gunner said. “I could get the hang of some of it, but not much. I know there were some very interesting diagrams, and it struck me he’d been dipping pretty deeply into physics.”
“I’m sorry if I gave the wrong impression,” Newton cut hastily and nervously in. “After all, there is what I might call physics and physics. I mean, it isn’t a closed book, so to speak. We all do some physics at school.”
Then Home came in with a most unusual and, to me, unexpected question. Was Newton himself, from private observation and contacts, perfectly satisfied about Wissler?
Newton answered with no hesitation or nervousness. While he claimed no infallibility, he’d vouch for the genuineness of Wissler’s feelings towards both this country and Germany, and his wholehearted desire to give this country the benefit of his knowledge.
“But this business of his visits to the man Benison,” Hush said. “On two occasions he called at the vicarage, and the last time he remained there for over an hour.”
That voice was the voice of Wharton, as I couldn’t help guessing. One other person seemed highly interested, and that was Pattner, whom I was meeting for the first time. He was a sturdily built chap of about forty, with as nice a beard as I’ve seen for a long time.
“That was over a month ago,” Newton said. “I had a word with him about it. I own that I didn’t say anything to Colonel Brende. The Colonel rather saw red when Benison’s name was mentioned, and I didn’t want Wissler upset. The truth is as I’ve already reported privately, that Benison approached Wissler. He wanted him to give a lecture at his Institute. Wissler isn’t conversant with our—well, subterranean movements. He acted in quite good faith. I think he even considered himself very flattered. And he thought the lecture would be one in the eye for the Hun, so to speak.”
The Case of the Kidnapped Colonel: A Ludovic Travers Mystery Page 13
