No Man's Island

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER XX

  THE PACE QUICKENS

  "So you are my nephew Percy," said Mr. Pratt when Warrender had gone."Light the lamp and let me look at you. I don't recognise you. Whenwas our last meeting?"

  "About ten years ago," replied Pratt, surprised at his uncle's calmdemeanour. "You tanned me for picking one of your peaches."

  "Did I?" Mr. Pratt smiled. "You were always a mischievous youngruffian. But how do you come here? Do you bear an olive branch fromthat cantankerous father of yours?"

  "I came through the tunnel," Pratt began, ignoring the aspersion uponhis father. Mr. Pratt interrupted him.

  "What tunnel?"

  "The tunnel between No Man's Island and this tower. Didn't you know ofit?"

  "I never heard of it before. Who told you about it?"

  "We discovered it by accident. My chums and I came for a boatingholiday, and camped on the island. We have had----"

  "You saw my signals?" his uncle interposed.

  "Yes, and----"

  "And the police are informed? These villains will be arrested?"

  "Well, as a matter of fact, Uncle," said Pratt, and was againinterrupted.

  "You did not? Then I am afraid you and your companions have tumbledinto a hornets' nest, young man. As we are to have apparently a fewminutes' leisure, I think you had better put me wise, as our Americanfriends say, about the essential facts of the situation. How many doyou muster?"

  Pratt, in the exalted mood of a rescuer, and himself bursting withquestions, was a little dashed by his uncle's cool matter-of-factmanner.

  "There are three of us," he said. "We got in through the tunnel, andfound one man below at the printing press."

  "A printing press! Indeed! What literature are my guardiansdisseminating?"

  "Forged notes."

  "Forgers!" ejaculated Mr. Pratt, for the first time showing signs ofagitation. "Things are worse than I dreamed. You are sure of what yousay?"

  "Absolutely. We found the watermarked paper."

  "The scoundrels! You had better get away. If these fellows are aninternational gang of forgers they will have no scruples. The lives ofyou and your companions are not worth a rap. Leave me. Get away whilethere is time. Inform the police and leave matters in their hands."

  "It's too late for that," said Pratt. "We have trussed up the mandownstairs. Our only idea was to rescue you. If we left you now theothers would find Jensen and know that the game is up. They might shootyou. We must get you away now at all costs."

  "It is utter folly. Hare-brained adventuring! I fear you are right; itis too late. I must join forces with you when this chain is broken. Iblame myself that my signals have let you young fellows into thisterrible trap."

  "We had suspicions before we saw them--in fact, ever since we heardabout your staff of foreign servants."

  "Yes, yes. I have been frightfully deluded. No doubt it is the talk ofthe village. I engaged my cook and gardener through an advertisement.The cook introduced that scoundrel Gradoff as an unfortunate Russiannobleman driven from his country. The plausible wretch engaged theothers. They seemed a respectable, hard-working set of men. I wasmaking hurried arrangements for a trip to North Africa via Paris.Gradoff gave me every assistance. I was on the point of starting. Theykidnapped me and shut me up here. I thought their sole motive wasrobbery. Gradoff tried to get me to sign cheques for large amounts. Iflatly refused, of course. They adopted starvation tactics, threatenedto murder me; but I have looked death in the face too often to purchaselife at such a price. They dropped these efforts some time ago, but Isuspected that Gradoff was forging my name, and thought he wouldliberate me as soon as he had fleeced me bare."

  "And how did you signal, with the windows boarded up?" asked Pratt.

  "With handfuls of flock from my mattress dipped in paraffin, stuck on alath from my bed and poked up the chimney. Gradoff discovered me lastnight. I was in the chimney. He had gone to the roof, saw the flameemerge, and snatched the lath from my hands. He whipped out his pistoland threatened to shoot me. I laughed at him; asked him whether hewished to add murder to forgery; he gave me a curious stare at that. Ireminded him that we still retain capital punishment. He cursed me andleft. This morning he brought the chain. No doubt he would have killedme if there had been anything to gain by my death; but he must havesupposed that the signals had not been seen; they had had no apparentresult. You say you had suspicions before you saw the signals.Why?--apart from the usual British distrust of foreigners."

  Pratt was beginning to recount the series of incidents that had occurredsince the arrival on No Man's Island when there came a hail from below.He went to the top of the stairs.

  "What is it, Armstrong?"

  "Can you come down for a moment?"

  Pratt ran downstairs.

  "I didn't want to alarm your uncle," said Armstrong, "but just now,looking through a chink in the boards, I saw four men coming towards thetower. What are we to do?"

  Pratt went to the boarded window and looked out.

  "Gradoff and the chauffeur," he said. "The other two I haven't seenbefore. We might have tackled two; let 'em in and bagged them. Butfour!--probably armed, like Jensen. It's no go."

  "We can only lie low, then, and play for time. The door's a stout pieceof timber, and it's not so easy to blow off a bolt as to blow in alock."

  "Don't speak," whispered Pratt, "they're just here."

  The handle of the door was turned. Then came a sharp knock. A pause ofa few seconds; then a more peremptory knock and Gradoff's voice.

  "Jensen!"

  The Swede prostrate against the wall wriggled and emitted a low gurglingnoise through his gag. The boys glanced at him; he was unable to releasehis limbs; the sound could not have been heard through the thick door.

  A third time Gradoff knocked. He rattled the door-handle, repeated hiscall, with the addition of sundry violent expletives. The boys remainedtensely silent.

  The voices without subsided. Conversation was still carried on, but inlower tones.

  "Probably they think he is downstairs getting paper," whispered Pratt."There's nothing alarming at present."

  "But they'll smell a rat if he doesn't soon answer. What then?"

  "They may think he has fallen ill or something."

  "And then?"

  "Well, I can't answer for the intelligence of Gradoff and company, butif I were in his shoes I should either break in the door or send someone round by the tunnel. You see, he can't have the ghost of an ideawhat has happened. And if his game were discovered, he wouldn't expectto find the place merely closed against him."

  "I dare say you're right. But don't you think you had better go throughthe tunnel and hurry Phil up? We should be in a pretty tight place ifGradoff did send a man or two round, and we found, when we had releasedyour uncle, that the exit at the other end was blocked."

  "I don't care about leaving you alone. Suppose they broke in while Iwas away?"

  "Two wouldn't be much better than one against four armed ruffians. Andthey'd guess that you and Phil had gone to fetch the police, and I fancythey'd be too anxious to save their skins to bother much about me. Atany rate, I'll risk it. I think you had better go. In fact, when youmeet Phil, why not go and tell Mr. Crawshay how things stand? Phil andI will get your uncle away if it's possible, and though I don't supposeCrawshay could do anything to secure the gang--there's apparently onlyone policeman--he might 'phone or wire the authorities, and set everyone on the qui vive for miles around."

  "All right. If I'm going, better go at once, before any one has time togo round by the cottage. I'll consult Phil about your suggestion, and goto Crawshay if he agrees. I wish I had the torch. I shall have to gropemy way along the tunnel, but I'll be as quick as I can."

  He ran noiselessly down the stairs. The flagstone was upright, as ithad been left. He jumped into the cavity, crossed the store-room,ente
red the tunnel on the farther side, and hurried along as rapidly asthe darkness allowed. Now and again he stopped to strike a match and tolisten for Warrender's footsteps, but he reached the end without havingseen or heard anything of his friend.

  By the light of a match he saw that the flagstone was slightlydepressed. Then he caught sight of Warrender's electric torch lying onthe ground, and was seized with a vague uneasiness. He picked up thetorch. Revolving the stone, he heard something slide with a metallicrattle along its surface, and felt a smart blow on one of his feet. Heflashed the torch, and saw a hammer and a chisel. Still more uneasy, heclambered up into the cellar, and without lowering the flagstone,climbed on to the staircase.

  "You there, Phil?" he called up.

  There was no answer. The door at the top was open. He rushed up, ranthrough the kitchen and the corridor to the front of the cottage, andlooked anxiously around. No one was in view.

  "What on earth is he doing?" he thought.

  It was clear that Warrender had fetched the tools from the motor-boatand returned to the cellar. Why then had he left them there? Where hadhe gone? What could have interrupted him?

  Pratt felt himself on the horns of a painful dilemma. He had now theinstruments of his uncle's deliverance; one impulse urged him to hurrywith them back to the tower. On the other hand, Warrender'sdisappearance argued that something untoward had happened, and he wasloth to leave the spot without making an attempt to find him. For a fewmoments he stood in the doorway, weighing the one course against theother. A search for Warrender might prove fruitless, and in any casewould take time. Meanwhile affairs at the tower might be developing in away that would nullify the prime motive that had actuated them all--therelease of his uncle. It seemed that this had a paramount claim uponhim, and he turned, reluctantly, to retrace his steps to the cellar.

  As he passed the foot of the staircase to the upper floor, it occurredto him that from the windows there, giving a wider outlook over thesurroundings of the cottage, he might see Warrender approaching:perhaps, indeed, as the result of an after-thought, he had made a secondvisit to the motor-boat. Pratt ran upstairs, and going from room toroom, threw a searching glance upon the prospect. Neither on the easternside nor on the western was there anything to attract his attention.But looking out of the window of the room facing south, he noticed thatthe foliage of the thicket beyond the weedy path was violentlydisturbed. Some one was moving in it, towards the ruins. He watchedeagerly: surely it was Warrender returning. Presently two legs came intoview; but they were not Warrender's. They were encased in rusty brownleggings. In another moment the figure of Rush emerged from the thicketupon the path, and immediately behind him was a second form, that of atall and heavily built man with a broad flattish face. When free fromthe thicket they quickened their pace.

  Pratt hesitated no longer. The men were evidently making for the ruins:perhaps they intended to proceed along the tunnel. It was imperativethat he should anticipate them. He hastened downstairs, and had justreached the cellar when he heard clumping footsteps overhead. Leapinginto the cavity, he swung the stone over, turned the hand-grips, and bythe light of the torch bolted along the tunnel. After running abouttwenty yards he switched off the light and stopped. Voices came frombehind him; then he heard two heavy thuds in succession; the men hadjumped into the tunnel. The flagstone banged as it was swung carelesslyinto place; the men were coming after him. Without more delay he setforward with all speed, guiding himself by touching the walls with hisoutstretched hands.