by Roger Bax
He slowly filled his pipe. “I guess I owe you all an apology for scaring you,” he said awkwardly. “I seem to have caused a lot of trouble.”
“All’s well that ends well,” said Baird tritely. “What we want to know now is how you got out.”
“It was just a question of patience,” said Garve. “I fumbled my way along in the dark and was lucky.” Briefly he gave them a summary of his adventures, omitting much detail. He yawned. “I’ll tell you more about it to-morrow.”
“I’ll keep you to that promise, if nobody else does,” said Baird. “And while you’re here, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
Garve sighed. “Well, what have I done now?”
“That body in Hezekiah’s Tunnel!”
Garve sat up sharply. “I told you to keep that to yourself, Baird. Have you no sense, man?”
“I would have done,” retorted Baird, “if it had been there.”
“Oh lord!” said Garve, sinking back, “don’t tell me that’s been spirited away too.”
“There wasn’t a trace of it. My men went through that tunnel with a fine-tooth comb. They had a devil of a time. They even dragged the pools. They found nothing at all—not a trace of a body, not a lamp, not a knife—nothing.”
“So what?” said Garve. “Are you accusing me of faking the whole story?”
“No, I’m not,” said Baird, though his words carried no conviction. “I admit I’m puzzled and disturbed. Mind you, if I didn’t know you as well as I do, I would say that you’d gone potty, and were letting your journalistic imagination run away with you. First you report an ammunition dump, and when we look for it, it’s gone. Then you say a man has been killed in a place that no sane man—no one but a reporter—would ever visit, and that’s gone. I suppose it’s just coincidence, but there’s something very fishy about the whole business, and I can’t pretend to understand it.”
Garve gazed round the assembled company. Bewilderment was on every face, and Esther was staring moodily at the floor.
“Well, folks,” said Garve, rising, “there are plenty of things that I’m puzzled about myself, and the body’s one of them. Somebody must have fetched it out, but I can’t imagine who. For the rest, there are a lot of things that I can’t explain to you at the moment, and, if I did, you wouldn’t believe me. I feel like a bad boy who’s just had a kick in the pants, and the sooner I get home to bed the better.”
“I think you’re right, Garve,” agreed Willoughby, rising. “You mustn’t misunderstand us—personally I’m utterly and completely at sea about a number of things, but I’m not criticizing, and I don’t think Baird is. We’re all a bit overwrought with this adventure to-night. If you’ll forgive my saying so, you’ve behaved—well, a bit queerly about it. Hayson’s a good fellow, and you don’t seem very grateful. After all, at this moment he’s taking big risks for you. However, that’s your affair. We’re glad you’re safe, and I suggest you get a good night’s sleep. I think we’ll turn in too. Hayson said he probably wouldn’t be back till morning.”
“I bet he won’t,” said Garve, fuming inwardly. In exasperation he turned to the policeman. “Look here, Baird, I’m pretty tired, but I’ll make you an offer. Get a couple of torches from headquarters and I’ll take you right now to the biggest ammunition dump you’ve ever set eyes on inside Palestine. What do you say?”
Baird patted his shoulder. “Get to bed, old man. You’ve overdone it. Get to bed, and tell me all about it in the morning.”
Garve shrugged. “Please yourself. If it blows up before to-morrow don’t blame me. Well, goodnight all.”
Esther accompanied him to the door and looked hard into his face, which was drawn with lines of tiredness. For the first time she seemed to realize there was more on his mind than he cared to disclose.
“There’s something you’re keeping back, Philip, isn’t there? Your strange behaviour—it’s so unlike you. Why were you so puzzled that we were expecting you? Why were you so unpleasant about Hayson? Oh! I wish I could understand.”
Her glance was so full of sympathy and concern that Garve wished he could take her in his arms and comfort her. “Please don’t worry,” he said gently. “There’s nothing wrong with me—either mentally or physically. Curious things are happening in Jerusalem, and I’m in the thick of them. I don’t understand the puzzle any more than you do yet, but I’m convinced the solution isn’t very far off. Listen—you’ve not forgotten that you’re coming swimming with me, have you?”
“Of course not,” said Esther softly. She looked very cool and sweet in the moonlight. “I’ve been thinking of it all evening—it seemed that it was an appointment you might never be able to keep.”
“You’re a darling,” said Garve breathlessly. “Forgive me, but you are. I think if it hadn’t been for you I should never have escaped from that quarry to-day. You were my objective, my lodestar, you …”
“Perhaps you had better go home,” observed Esther demurely, “else you may say something you’ll be sorry about afterwards. And—thank you for keeping Hayson occupied. I did go to bed as you told me, but I had to get up again when I heard you were missing. I feel much better, though.” She gave him a sweet smile, with nothing of coquetry in it, and his heart beat high with happiness.
“I’ll be round for dinner, if I don’t see you before. Good-night, Esther.”
“Good-night,” she murmured, and gave his big hand a friendly squeeze. “Sleep well.”
Garve breakfasted in his room the following morning. He was just filling an after-breakfast pipe and recalling with a warm glow of satisfaction the picture of Esther in the moonlight when there was a knock on his door and a servant entered.
“A Mr. Hayson to see you, sir.”
“Indeed,” said Garve. “Show him up.”
His face was a mask as Hayson’s quiet steps sounded in the corridor. What devilry was the man up to now? He took his revolver from his pocket and began toying with it conspicuously as a shadow fell across the threshold.
“Come in, Hayson, and shut the door,” called Garve.
Hayson came in. His sombre eyes were heavy with fatigue and his shoulders drooped. “I’ve just got back from the quarries,” he began. “I learned at police headquarters that you were safe——”
“And came round at once to find out what I’d been saying about you!” Garve’s finger crooked menacingly round the trigger of his gun. “Upon my soul, Hayson, you have the most colossal effrontery.”
“I don’t understand you,” said Hayson; “and for heaven’s sake stop fooling with that revolver.”
“Now listen to me,” said Garve impatiently. “I don’t doubt that it suits your game to come round here to-day. People would think it funny if you didn’t, and it would be so much better, wouldn’t it, if your account of our adventure could be made to square with mine. But I want you to realize that I know you did your best to kill me last night. We both understand why, so there’s no need to talk about that. You were devilishly clever about it, and you covered all your tracks. You’ll have no difficulty in making people believe that it was all an accident. I’m levelling no public accusations against you, but in private I may as well tell you right now that I regard you as a murderer and a criminal. If you came here with the idea of talking me round and persuading me of your innocence, you can save your breath. Your glib tongue will never influence me again. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a common cut-throat who ought to be hanging this moment from a gallows. Now is that plain?”
“If your courtesy were as great as your clarity,” said Hayson, who had been listening to this speech with astonishing impassivity, “we should have less cause to quarrel.”
“Courtesy!” said Garve contemptuously. “Good God, man, stop this play-acting. I can’t believe you were ever such a fool as to expect a friendly reception from me to-day. I would as soon show courtesy to a snake. Have you any idea what it feels like to be left alone in a great labyrinth of a cave? Have you any idea of the nigh
t of exquisite mental torture to which you deliberately condemned me? Do you know how the imagination works in the darkness, what it feels like to contemplate slow starvation, what agony the mind suffers when it is balancing on the edge of insanity? Perhaps you do know—perhaps the realization of what was in store for me increased your satisfaction?”
Hayson sighed. “Of course, if you insist on taking this absurd and melodramatic attitude, I can do nothing. He spoke still with a studied mildness. “I can only repeat that there is no vestige of truth in your accusation.”
Garve gave an exclamation of disgust. “You’re wasting your time, man. Don’t tell me you lost your way. You must have legged it for all you were worth to reach the Willoughby house soon after nine. You simply gave me the slip and bolted.”
“Very well, have it your own way.” said Hayson, “but remember, I deny it absolutely. For your own sake, I trust you won’t repeat the ridiculous lie to any third person—or I warn you, there’ll be trouble.”
“Ah,” said Garve, “so that’s why you came here. You don’t want me to let ‘any third person’ know what a swine you are? Well, I’m making no promises. You can rest assured, however, that anything I can do to make your life more difficult I shall do with the greatest pleasure. When I think how completely you’re getting away with this it makes me writhe. If I’d had any sense I should have shot you like a dog in the quarry.”
Hayson’s smile was deadly. “You seem to overlook the fact that, if I had intended to kill you before, your attitude now would greatly increase my determination not to fail a second time. It is fortunate for you that I have a clear conscience and am not afraid that you could ever substantiate your ridiculous charge.”
“I prefer not to rely on your conscience,” said Garve. “If your last remark was intended as a threat, it leaves me cold. You won’t catch me napping again.”
Hayson yawned ostentatiously. “I find your self-confidence wearisome. All the same, if it isn’t troubling you too much, I should like to know how you succeeded in getting out.”
Garve smiled. “I expect you would. Yes, on second thoughts, I’m certain you would. Well, you know the phrase the politicians use, ‘I explored every avenue and left no stone unturned.’”
“It must have taken you a long time,” said Hayson thoughtfully. “Oh, incidentally, you might care to know that I found no sign of your ammunition dump on my return journey. I’m afraid that was just another of your delusions. As a matter of fact, I told the Willoughbys when I got back last night that I was a little worried about the way you had behaved in the cave. About your mental condition, I mean. This constant search for non-existent things is a bad sign, Garve—I’m not sure you haven’t been overdoing it in Jerusalem.”
“Go on,” said Garve curiously; “what do you suggest?”
“Well, it’s not my business, of course, but it seems to me that you’ve made some bad blunders since you’ve been here. You nearly got Miss Willoughby killed, for instance. Then you thought you were being very clever finding that first ammunition dump, but the Arabs had the last laugh. In Hezekiah’s Tunnel you were beaten up, and in the quarries you escaped by a miracle. The fruit of all your feverish activity is precisely nothing. If there is an Arab plot in Jerusalem, which I doubt, you’re as far from exposing it as ever. If you left Jerusalem you would hardly be leaving the scene of your trimphs, would you? And once you were away you would no longer be troubled with a delusion that I was trying to kill you. Nor would you be leading Miss Willoughby into danger. For instance—again it’s not my concern—but you propose to-night to take Miss Willoughby on a little excursion. You know, Garve, I shouldn’t if I were you. That road to the Dead Sea is excessively dangerous, as I’ve told you already. You remember, of course, the man who ‘went down from Jerusalem to Jericho—and fell among thieves’? It’s a dreadful reflection on our civilization, but there are still thieves on that road. Take my advice, and in your own interests leave Jerusalem to-night, and don’t come back.”
Garve stared for a moment at Hayson’s smouldering eyes, and then laughed in his face. “It just won’t work, Hayson. You’ve no influence over me. No doubt you would be delighted if I cleared out and left you in possession of an unchallenged field. You’ll be disappointed to learn that nothing could persuade me to leave at this juncture. And now, do you mind taking yourself off? I’m sure we both understand each other perfectly.” He rose and waved his gun towards the door. “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” said Hayson jauntily. “Oh, by the way, I’ll have your torch sent round to you. You may need it.”
“Thanks,” said Garve. “You might send the bulb which you took out as well.” With which Parthian shot he nodded abruptly and quietly shut the door on Hayson’s back.
A little later he walked down to police headquarters in a very thoughtful frame of mind. Baird gave him a cheery “Good-morning” and a grin.
“Feeling better?” he asked. “By jove, you certainly were rocking on your feet last night.”
“I’m grand,” said Garve, “and cleared for action! Any news? Any cables? Any money?”
“Nothing, old man. Your paper has forgotten you, and the Arabs are quiet. It looks as though the trouble is going to blow over for the time being.”
“I bet the Jews don’t think so,” said Garve. “Their Defence Force has never been more active, and their farm colonies are simply bristling with arms. They’re standing-to for a first-class civil war. By the way, do you want to see that arms dump?”
Baird’s blue eyes opened wide. “Why, man, you weren’t serious, were you?”
“Of course I was serious.”
Baird still looked sceptical. “You’re quite sure you’re not pulling my leg? I don’t want to march all over Jerusalem in the heat of the day for another ‘disappearance.’”
“I can understand your attitude, Baird, but this is different. It was too big a dump to move. I’ll swear on oath that you’ll have the surprise of your life. Come on, it’s your duty to investigate.”
Baird shrugged. “Well, it’s your last chance. What do we need?”
“Two good torches, thigh boots, and a couple of policemen for escort.”
Baird looked at him sharply. “Getting the wind up, eh? Think things are going to happen?”
“I’m damn sure something terrific’s going to happen almost at once, but it’s only a hunch, and I’ve no evidence. Let’s get going.”
The sun blazed on the stones and dust of the track as the little party wound its way down to the Virgin’s Fountain. Garve was beginning to feel at home in this particular stretch of country, and as they approached the fountain his quick eye noted a solitary Arab figure slipping away down the hill with tremendous agility.
“See!” He touched Baird’s arm lightly and pointed. “There’s a watch on the tunnel. That means that the Arabs know I was in there last night, and guess I’ve discovered the dump.”
“How should they know?” asked Baird.
“Maybe they were watching and saw us go in. I imagine the finding of this dump will make them speed up their plans, too. They know we can’t blow it up, because it would blow up half the city, but they’ll expect us to start moving it.”
“You almost convince me that it exists,” said Baird with a grin. “Anyway, here’s the tunnel.”
Garve led the way quite at ease now, while the two policemen followed less happily, and with constant exclamations and smothered curses. They negotiated the climb from the tunnel without difficulty, boldly crossed the chamber of the figured walls, and soon reached the point at which the narrow ledge had to be negotiated which took them up to the next level and the dump.
“Do I have to crawl up that?” asked Baird, aghast.
“I’m afraid so. It’s not so bad as it looks. I crawled down it last night with a home-made torch.”
They left the two other men at the bottom and reached the second level without mishap. Garve advanced with confidence, for the police torches illuminated th
eir whole surroundings with a brilliant light, and in a few moments they stood in the antechamber before the pile of boxes.
“There you are,” said Garve with the triumphant air of a showman who has just brought off a difficult trick.
Baird whistled softly and began poking about. “Rifes,” he said, “rifles and machine-guns. Ammunition. Shells. Looks as though there are some field-gun parts up there.”
He climbed excitedly over the towering heap of boxes, examining and exclaiming. From the depths of the antechamber he suddenly gave a startled shout.
“What’s up?” asked Garve.
“There’s all the devilry of war up here,” called Baird. “Flame throwers, man—three of them—and a whole lot of gas containers. It’s stupendous.”
“I know,” said Garve complacently as Baird climbed down again with excitement blazing in his eyes.
Baird slapped him so heartily on the shoulder that Garve winced. “I take back all that I ever said and thought about you,” he declared sweepingly.
“It was forgivable,” said Garve with a broad grin.
The two policemen were left to watch the tunnel mouth pending the arrival of reinforcements, while Baird and Garve returned to police headquarters. Baird could hardly hide his jubilation.
“It looks as though you were right about an impending revolt, Garve. They wouldn’t have accumulated all this stuff without a special objective. Let’s hope we’ve crippled the plan by finding it.”
“I wouldn’t be sure about that,” Garve urged him. “You know as well as I do that they’ve got heaps of other dumps—smaller, no doubt, but dangerous enough. I hear there are more troops on the way from England. When do they arrive?”
“In three days’ time—at Haifa.”
“Then if the Arabs have any sense they’ll spring their mine in the next forty-eight hours. Our finding the dump will push their plans forward, anyway, because they’ll know we shall start to move the stuff. I should say if we can get safely past the day after to-morrow the plot will fail.”
