CHAPTER XXIII. A RACE AGAINST TIME
AFTER ringing up Sir James, Tommy’s next procedure was to make a callat South Audley Mansions. He found Albert discharging his professionalduties, and introduced himself without more ado as a friend ofTuppence’s. Albert unbent immediately.
“Things has been very quiet here lately,” he said wistfully. “Hope theyoung lady’s keeping well, sir?”
“That’s just the point, Albert. She’s disappeared.”
“You don’t mean as the crooks have got her?”
“They have.”
“In the Underworld?”
“No, dash it all, in this world!”
“It’s a h’expression, sir,” explained Albert. “At the pictures thecrooks always have a restoorant in the Underworld. But do you think asthey’ve done her in, sir?”
“I hope not. By the way, have you by any chance an aunt, a cousin,a grandmother, or any other suitable female relation who might berepresented as being likely to kick the bucket?”
A delighted grin spread slowly over Albert’s countenance.
“I’m on, sir. My poor aunt what lives in the country has been mortal badfor a long time, and she’s asking for me with her dying breath.”
Tommy nodded approval.
“Can you report this in the proper quarter and meet me at Charing Crossin an hour’s time?”
“I’ll be there, sir. You can count on me.”
As Tommy had judged, the faithful Albert proved an invaluable ally. Thetwo took up their quarters at the inn in Gatehouse. To Albert fell thetask of collecting information. There was no difficulty about it.
Astley Priors was the property of a Dr. Adams. The doctor no longerpracticed, had retired, the landlord believed, but he took a few privatepatients--here the good fellow tapped his forehead knowingly--“balmyones! You understand!” The doctor was a popular figure in the village,subscribed freely to all the local sports--“a very pleasant, affablegentleman.” Been there long? Oh, a matter of ten years or so--might belonger. Scientific gentleman, he was. Professors and people often camedown from town to see him. Anyway, it was a gay house, always visitors.
In the face of all this volubility, Tommy felt doubts. Was it possiblethat this genial, well-known figure could be in reality a dangerouscriminal? His life seemed so open and aboveboard. No hint of sinisterdoings. Suppose it was all a gigantic mistake? Tommy felt a cold chillat the thought.
Then he remembered the private patients--“balmy ones.” He inquiredcarefully if there was a young lady amongst them, describing Tuppence.But nothing much seemed to be known about the patients--they were seldomseen outside the grounds. A guarded description of Annette also failedto provoke recognition.
Astley Priors was a pleasant red-brick edifice, surrounded bywell-wooded grounds which effectually shielded the house fromobservation from the road.
On the first evening Tommy, accompanied by Albert, explored the grounds.Owing to Albert’s insistence they dragged themselves along painfully ontheir stomachs, thereby producing a great deal more noise than ifthey had stood upright. In any case, these precautions were totallyunnecessary. The grounds, like those of any other private house afternightfall, seemed untenanted. Tommy had imagined a possible fiercewatchdog. Albert’s fancy ran to a puma, or a tame cobra. But theyreached a shrubbery near the house quite unmolested.
The blinds of the dining-room window were up. There was a large companyassembled round the table. The port was passing from hand to hand. Itseemed a normal, pleasant company. Through the open window scraps ofconversation floated out disjointedly on the night air. It was a heateddiscussion on county cricket!
Again Tommy felt that cold chill of uncertainty. It seemed impossibleto believe that these people were other than they seemed. Had he beenfooled once more? The fair-bearded, spectacled gentleman who sat at thehead of the table looked singularly honest and normal.
Tommy slept badly that night. The following morning the indefatigableAlbert, having cemented an alliance with the greengrocer’s boy, took thelatter’s place and ingratiated himself with the cook at Malthouse.He returned with the information that she was undoubtedly “one ofthe crooks,” but Tommy mistrusted the vividness of his imagination.Questioned, he could adduce nothing in support of his statement excepthis own opinion that she wasn’t the usual kind. You could see that at aglance.
The substitution being repeated (much to the pecuniary advantage of thereal greengrocer’s boy) on the following day, Albert brought back thefirst piece of hopeful news. There _was_ a French young lady stayingin the house. Tommy put his doubts aside. Here was confirmation ofhis theory. But time pressed. To-day was the 27th. The 29th was themuch-talked-of “Labour Day,” about which all sorts of rumours wererunning riot. Newspapers were getting agitated. Sensational hints of aLabour _coup d’état_ were freely reported. The Government said nothing.It knew and was prepared. There were rumours of dissension among theLabour leaders. They were not of one mind. The more far-seeing amongthem realized that what they proposed might well be a death-blow to theEngland that at heart they loved. They shrank from the starvation andmisery a general strike would entail, and were willing to meet theGovernment half-way. But behind them were subtle, insistent forces atwork, urging the memories of old wrongs, deprecating the weakness ofhalf-and-half measures, fomenting misunderstandings.
Tommy felt that, thanks to Mr. Carter, he understood the position fairlyaccurately. With the fatal document in the hands of Mr. Brown,public opinion would swing to the side of the Labour extremists andrevolutionists. Failing that, the battle was an even chance. TheGovernment with a loyal army and police force behind them mightwin--but at a cost of great suffering. But Tommy nourished another anda preposterous dream. With Mr. Brown unmasked and captured hebelieved, rightly or wrongly, that the whole organization would crumbleignominiously and instantaneously. The strange permeating influenceof the unseen chief held it together. Without him, Tommy believed aninstant panic would set in; and, the honest men left to themselves, aneleventh-hour reconciliation would be possible.
“This is a one-man show,” said Tommy to himself. “The thing to do is toget hold of the man.”
It was partly in furtherance of this ambitious design that he hadrequested Mr. Carter not to open the sealed envelope. The drafttreaty was Tommy’s bait. Every now and then he was aghast at his ownpresumption. How dared he think that he had discovered what so manywiser and clever men had overlooked? Nevertheless, he stuck tenaciouslyto his idea.
That evening he and Albert once more penetrated the grounds of AstleyPriors. Tommy’s ambition was somehow or other to gain admission to thehouse itself. As they approached cautiously, Tommy gave a sudden gasp.
On the second floor window some one standing between the window andthe light in the room threw a silhouette on the blind. It was one Tommywould have recognized anywhere! Tuppence was in that house!
He clutched Albert by the shoulder.
“Stay here! When I begin to sing, watch that window.”
He retreated hastily to a position on the main drive, and began in adeep roar, coupled with an unsteady gait, the following ditty:
I am a Soldier A jolly British Soldier; You can see that I’m a Soldier by my feet....
It had been a favourite on the gramophone in Tuppence’s hospital days.He did not doubt but that she would recognize it and draw her ownconclusions. Tommy had not a note of music in his voice, but his lungswere excellent. The noise he produced was terrific.
Presently an unimpeachable butler, accompanied by an equallyunimpeachable footman, issued from the front door. The butlerremonstrated with him. Tommy continued to sing, addressing the butleraffectionately as “dear old whiskers.” The footman took him by one arm,the butler by the other. They ran him down the drive, and neatly outof the gate. The butler threatened him with the police if he intrudedagain. It was beautifully done--soberly and with perfect decorum. Anyonewould have sworn that the butler was a real butler, the footman a rea
lfootman--only, as it happened, the butler was Whittington!
Tommy retired to the inn and waited for Albert’s return. At last thatworthy made his appearance.
“Well?” cried Tommy eagerly.
“It’s all right. While they was a-running of you out the window opened,and something was chucked out.” He handed a scrap of paper to Tommy. “Itwas wrapped round a letterweight.”
On the paper were scrawled three words: “To-morrow--same time.”
“Good egg!” cried Tommy. “We’re getting going.”
“I wrote a message on a piece of paper, wrapped it round a stone, andchucked it through the window,” continued Albert breathlessly.
Tommy groaned.
“Your zeal will be the undoing of us, Albert. What did you say?”
“Said we was a-staying at the inn. If she could get away, to come thereand croak like a frog.”
“She’ll know that’s you,” said Tommy with a sigh of relief. “Yourimagination runs away with you, you know, Albert. Why, you wouldn’trecognize a frog croaking if you heard it.”
Albert looked rather crest-fallen.
“Cheer up,” said Tommy. “No harm done. That butler’s an old friend ofmine--I bet he knew who I was, though he didn’t let on. It’s not theirgame to show suspicion. That’s why we’ve found it fairly plain sailing.They don’t want to discourage me altogether. On the other hand, theydon’t want to make it too easy. I’m a pawn in their game, Albert, that’swhat I am. You see, if the spider lets the fly walk out too easily,the fly might suspect it was a put-up job. Hence the usefulness of thatpromising youth, Mr. T. Beresford, who’s blundered in just at the rightmoment for them. But later, Mr. T. Beresford had better look out!”
Tommy retired for the night in a state of some elation. He hadelaborated a careful plan for the following evening. He felt sure thatthe inhabitants of Astley Priors would not interfere with him up toa certain point. It was after that that Tommy proposed to give them asurprise.
About twelve o’clock, however, his calm was rudely shaken. He was toldthat some one was demanding him in the bar. The applicant proved to be arude-looking carter well coated with mud.
“Well, my good fellow, what is it?” asked Tommy.
“Might this be for you, sir?” The carter held out a very dirty foldednote, on the outside of which was written: “Take this to the gentlemanat the inn near Astley Priors. He will give you ten shillings.”
The handwriting was Tuppence’s. Tommy appreciated her quick-wittednessin realizing that he might be staying at the inn under an assumed name.He snatched at it.
“That’s all right.”
The man withheld it.
“What about my ten shillings?”
Tommy hastily produced a ten-shilling note, and the man relinquished hisfind. Tommy unfastened it.
“DEAR TOMMY,
“I knew it was you last night. Don’t go this evening. They’ll be lyingin wait for you. They’re taking us away this morning. I heard somethingabout Wales--Holyhead, I think. I’ll drop this on the road if I get achance. Annette told me how you’d escaped. Buck up.
“Yours,
“TWOPENCE.”
Tommy raised a shout for Albert before he had even finished perusingthis characteristic epistle.
“Pack my bag! We’re off!”
“Yes, sir.” The boots of Albert could be heard racing upstairs.Holyhead? Did that mean that, after all---- Tommy was puzzled. He readon slowly.
The boots of Albert continued to be active on the floor above.
Suddenly a second shout came from below.
“Albert! I’m a damned fool! Unpack that bag!”
“Yes, sir.”
Tommy smoothed out the note thoughtfully.
“Yes, a damned fool,” he said softly. “But so’s some one else! And atlast I know who it is!”
The Secret Adversary Page 24
