The Crime Club

by W. Holt-White

  CHAPTER XI

  MURDER MYSTERIOUS

  Melun's glance down the ranks of the men satisfied him that he hadthings well in hand.

  The bullet-headed man was shifting about on his seat, and Crow sat witha pasty face, twisting and bending his great, brutal fingers.

  "Gentlemen," said Melun, almost politely, "I expect you feel that someexplanation is due from me."

  The majority of the men nodded in a surly way.

  "Well," Melun continued, "the explanation is simplicity itself. I havebeen duped by that man."

  Again he pointed to Westerham.

  "He introduced himself to me," he went on, "as a colleague in our ownparticular line of business, and suggested certain schemes to me. Someof them appeared to me to be good, but I may as well tell you thatthey were at the moment of no use to me, as I had on hand a piece ofbusiness which, if I had pulled it off, would have enabled us to reston our laurels for a considerable period."

  At this point Melun laughed to himself. Westerham was sitting boltupright on the floor, with every evidence of the closest attention. Hewas of half a mind to call Melun a liar there and then, but he knewthat the greater the lies, and the more the lies, the easier he couldrefute them. So he let Melun run on without protest.

  "Yes," continued the captain, "it was a very great piece of businessindeed, so important a piece of business that it was necessary to keepit from even my most intimate friends and helpers. There was nothingunusual in this, for, as you know, I have often conducted campaignswithout letting you into my secrets until success had been assured.

  "On this occasion, considering the position of the person I wasassailing, the strictest secrecy was necessary. I didn't even informthe kind friend who finances us what I was about. I didn't even tellCrow of my movements, though I had informed him that something out ofthe common was in view.

  "However, with the appearance of that man whom you now see convictedas a traitor, there was introduced into our affairs a certainelement--treachery and suspicion.

  "One never knows," Melun went on with calm mendacity, "of what one maybe accused; and I therefore took the precaution to inform at least oneof you of what I was about, lest it should be charged against me that Iwas playing the rest of you false.

  "The man to whom I spoke of this matter was Patmore. Patmore, be goodenough to stand up."

  Patmore rose and glanced uneasily at his chief.

  "Be so kind as to repeat, as accurately as you can, what I told you,"Melun ordered him.

  Patmore began to speak rapidly, and with what, to a keen observer,might have seemed a somewhat parrot-like air.

  "You told me," he said, looking at Melun, "that this was a matter ofblackmail."

  He spoke quite unblushingly, as though such a business was an every-dayaffair, which, as a matter of fact, it was.

  "You told me," he continued, "that the person to be blackmailedoccupied a high position in the State, and that it was so necessary forhim to purchase our silence that he would pay practically any price.

  "You mentioned a quarter of a million, of which you yourself proposedto take fifty thousand pounds, dividing the rest of the money among us.You also took the oath of the club before me and declared that whatevermight be said to the contrary you were determined to play fair.

  "You further said that it was absolutely impossible to reveal anydetails of the scheme to me, as, should anyone know of the matterbesides yourself, discovery would be inevitable.

  "In fact, you declared that it was the most difficult, and at the sametime the boldest, piece of work that you had ever attempted."

  Patmore stopped abruptly in his recitation.

  "And that, gentlemen," said Melun, nodding towards the men, "isabsolutely true.

  "It is also true," he continued, "that to win this vast amount of moneyit was necessary to lay out a certain amount of capital. I hadn't themoney on hand, and it was inadvisable to approach the usual sources.

  "I trusted"--and there was an increased bitterness in his voice--"Itrusted this man Robinson.

  "But, would you believe me, gentlemen, I have just discovered that heis not Robinson at all, nor Smith, nor Jones--nor anyone, indeed, ofsmall importance in this world?

  "Now, gentlemen, it would be inadvisable at this moment to tell youprecisely who he is, but one thing I may tell you, and that is that heis a gentleman of title, and a man of wealth and position."

  The men turned their wondering gaze on Westerham.

  "Now, for what purpose do you suppose that a man of title, of wealthand position is mixing himself up with our affairs?"

  Melun paused for a few minutes, and watched with satisfactionintelligence dawn on the stupid, brutal faces before him, which staredfirst at himself in amazement, and then gloomily and savagely atWesterham.

  Westerham, however, to their further astonishment, was laughingquietly, his teeth bared in quite an amused and pleasant smile.

  "Now, gentlemen," Melun continued, "it is one of our unbreakable rulesthat all traitors must die. Therefore, anyone who is likely to betrayus must die also.

  "From what I know of this man," he went on, "he will be too proud topurchase his freedom. In short, not to put too fine a point on it, wecannot bleed him, though his wealth is enormous. I fancy it runs intomillions."

  Little cries of wonderment and anger broke from the glowering men roundthe table.

  Westerham laughed aloud.

  "In fact," cried Melun, "though I much regret the necessity of havingto take such a step, I am afraid this gentleman's last hour has arrived.

  "His death," he added quietly, "will be carried out by the usual means."

  Crow started eagerly from his chair.

  "Is it to be done at once?" he asked.

  "At once," said Melun.

  All this time, though he had laughed now and again and never ceased tosmile a bold, amused smile, Westerham's quick brain was taking in everyword and watching for some means of deliverance. He saw that he was inan extremely tight corner, but he did not doubt his ability to find away out.

  The two men who were acting as his warders suddenly seized his hands,and before he quite realised his position Westerham found himselfhandcuffed.

  Still, however, he made no resistance.

  "Gentlemen," he cried, raising his voice so that it rang through theroom and dominated all who were gathered there, "gentlemen, a man isusually permitted to say something when he has been condemned to death.I make no quarrel with your decision. If I were in your place I shouldprobably do the same myself by another man as you are doing by me.

  "I don't wish to dispute your decision, much less do I wish to pleadfor mercy. Melun has denounced me for the simple reason that I have themisfortune to be a gentleman. Well, gentlemen have a habit of dying assuch.

  "I trust I shall be no exception to the rule, but still, before youcarry out your kind intentions, I should like to say something toMelun."

  "Bring him to the table," said Melun. He looked uneasily at Westerhamand avoided the steadiness of his glance. He felt that the moment wasan awkward one. It was unwise to allow Westerham to speak; on the otherhand, it would have been folly to deny him the privilege.

  "Well, what is it?" he demanded sharply as Westerham stepped up to thetable and leant his manacled hands on it.

  Westerham bent forward over the table as far as he could and lookedMelun straight in the face.

  "You will not strangle me," he said in a very quiet voice, "becauseTHEY ARE NOT WHERE THEY WERE."

  Melun turned pale as ashes, and seemed to shrink in his seat.

  "Good Heavens, man, what do you mean?" he cried.

  Once again the men were glancing stupidly from Westerham to Melun, andback from Melun to Westerham.

  "I repeat," said Westerham, more pointedly than before, "that THEY ARENOT WHERE THEY WERE."

  There was a long and uncomfortable pause while Melun sat rigid in hischair biting his nails.

  Westerham had made a long shot, and had found the m
ark.

  He had argued that Melun's control over the Premier was due to theillegal possession of some of Lord Penshurst's papers, though he didnot know whom these papers might concern nor where Melun had placedthem.

  Certainly the captain had not hidden them in his own rooms, nor in therooms of any of his confederates; for without a doubt if Lord Penshursthad not scrupled to burgle Westerham's flat, he would not scruple toransack the houses of Melun or his friends.

  Indeed, Westerham guessed that the hiding-place must be a very strangeand secret one--so strange and so secret that probably only the subtlemind of Melun could have conceived it.

  Thus he had come to the conclusion that it would cause Melun mostterrible alarm if that individual even suspected he had an inkling ofthe whereabouts of the papers. Nor was he mistaken.

  Slowly and painfully Melun pulled himself together. The easy confidencewhich had marked his manner and his talk a few moments before was nowutterly gone. He was a broken, almost a cringing, man; and Westerhamrealised that Lord Penshurst could not be setting any fictitious valueon the stolen papers.

  These papers could involve no mere matter of sentiment or personalhonour or pride. Some colossal undertaking must be at stake.

  It was also obvious to Westerham that if the papers fell into strangehands the consequences must be terrible for all concerned. For theanxiety and fear on Melun's face were greater than the anxiety and fearof a man who hazards all in a great stake and thinks he has lost.

  Presently Melun got unsteadily out of his chair and came round thetable to Westerham.

  "Stand away there!" he said to the two men who were guarding thebaronet. "Stand away there!"

  The men fell back, and Melun, coming close up to Westerham, whisperedin his ear: "What do you mean that 'they are not where they were'? Doyou mean the papers?"

  Westerham nodded.

  "Where are they?" Melun whispered again.

  "I decline to say," said Westerham.

  He might well decline, for he had not the least idea.

  "I will make you tell me, you dog!" cried Melun.

  "You won't," answered Westerham, suavely.

  "By Heaven!" shouted Melun, "but I will. There are more unpleasantthings done in this place than you ever dreamt of in your philosophy.The times of the Inquisition are not past for some people."

  "It will take a little more than you to frighten me, you cur," saidWesterham, in a low voice.

  Melun's face blazed with passion. He drew back a pace, and then struckWesterham heavily across the mouth.

  On his part Westerham did not hesitate for a moment. He lifted both hisfettered hands and brought his steel-bound wrists down with a crash onMelun's head; and the captain went sprawling to the floor.

  "Look you here," cried Westerham to the dumbfounded ruffians who stoodwatching the scene as though they were chained to their chairs. "Lookyou here; I will deal with men, but not with curs such as this."

  He touched Melun with his boot.

  "You cannot deny," he continued, purposely dropping to a certain extentinto their own jargon, "that I was game. I was prepared to die, but Iam not prepared to be struck by swine like this.

  "Why," he went on, turning Melun's prostrate body over with his foot,"he is a liar through and through.

  "Did I speak the truth just now when I convicted Crow out of his ownmouth? I did. I proved it. And surely Melun has now condemned himselfin his turn.

  "Do you think that there would be all this fuss over a bundle of papersif there weren't more in the matter than he ever intended to tell you?Not a bit of it."

  The men murmured angry assent, and Westerham felt that he was at lastwinning through.

  "Do you think," he went on boldly, "that I am the kind of man whodeserves to be tortured to reveal the truth? I say no; and so will you."

  Again the men nodded.

  "This fellow Melun says that I have betrayed him and you. Let him proveit. I tell him that 'the papers are not where they were.' He knowswhere he placed them; let him go and see. I am content to abide hereuntil he returns."

  It was now the turn of the bullet-headed man to speak.

  "Get him to his feet," he said, pointing to Melun.

  Melun was dragged up, dazed and bleeding.

  "You will do nothing to this gentleman," said the bullet-headed man,waving his hand with some deference towards Westerham, "until you havecleared yourself. You will have to see if the papers are gone. But youdon't go alone--not much!"

  Then Crow spoke up: "Let me go with him," he pleaded.

  The bullet-headed man shook his head. "You have almost as much toanswer for as Melun," he objected.

  "No," he continued. "Ross is the man. We can trust Ross."

  Ross came forward as though the task of watching Melun was not anunwelcome one.

  "Yes, boys," he said, "you can trust me. I will go."

  "Then pull him together a bit," ordered the bullet-headed man.

  Thereupon they roughly plucked Melun's clothes into shape, sponged hisface clear of blood, set his hat on his head, and put his stick intohis hand.

  By this time he had practically recovered himself. He gave one quicklook of intense hatred towards Westerham and one quick, vindictiveglance in the direction of the man with the bullet head.

  "Very well," he said, in a rather shaky voice. "If it must be, it mustbe. You are fools to believe your enemy, but I cannot prevent you. Ifyou must know all, you will probably lose all; well--so much the worsefor you."

  He jerked his waistcoat down and assumed a certain air of bravado. Inspite of himself, Westerham could not but admire the man. At this pointCrow urged again that he should be allowed to accompany Melun. Rossmade no objection, and he was given leave to go.

  The scoundrels round the table then watched Melun take his departurewith Ross and Crow. The room was very quiet, and Westerham could hearthe men's retreating footsteps along the path of the canal.

  When they had quite ceased to be audible Westerham turned again to thebullet-headed man.

  "How long do you suppose," he asked, "we shall have to wait?"

  "Heaven knows," answered the fat man, with a shrug.

  "Then, if you will permit me," said Westerham, "I will sit down. And,"he added, "I should be obliged to you if you will remove these."

  He stretched out his handcuffed wrists.

  One of the men laughed and knocked them off. Westerham thanked him andsat down.

  Without more ado he took out his cigarette-case and lit a cigarette. Ashe smoked he turned things rapidly over in his mind. He was perfectlycertain that Melun, in spite of his protestations, would not reveal thewhereabouts of the papers. Westerham even doubted whether Melun wouldtake the trouble to lead the man on a bogus chase.

  For some reason which he was unable to account for he had a forebodingof coming evil. He tried to shake it off, but in vain.

  Time and time again he tried to think matters out and decide whatMelun's probable course of action would be. But time and time again hefailed to work out any theory which satisfied him.

  At last, when half an hour had gone by and the delay was becomingirksome, Westerham spoke up again.

  "If you will call for silence," he said to the bullet-headed man,"there is something else I would like to say."

  The bullet-headed man called at once for order.

  "Gentlemen," said Westerham, addressing the men for the third and lasttime that night, "will you allow me to range myself on your side? Ireally think I have proved myself sufficiently a man to warrant myasking this.

  "I will not take your oath, but if you will take the word of agentleman, I will pledge it that, come what may, I will never reveal toanyone what has taken place to-night."

  There was considerable grumbling at this, but the bullet-headed manforcibly expressed his favourable opinion.

  "Look here, mates," he cried, turning to the others, "I know agentleman when I see one, and I know that this gentleman is to betrusted. If Melun wants to do his own dirty
work, let him do it.

  "In spite of all his boasting our hands have been pretty clean up tothe present. It is quite true that we have always been prepared to puta man out of the way if it had to be done, but we have never done ityet.

  "And there is no reason, so far as I can see, that we should begin now.So long as we know where to find this gentleman, that should be goodenough for us. I am not much of a hand at an argument, but one thingseems to me pretty plain. If this gent"--he indicated Westerham--"hadwanted to give us away he would have given us away long since. No, youmay depend upon it that whatever his reasons may be he's got as goodcause to keep silence as we have. Don't you think that's right?"

  Again there was a good deal of grumbling, but on the other hand therewas general assent.

  "So I will tell you what we will do," continued the bullet-headed man,now certain of his ground. "We will let him go on one condition--thathe allows me and another man to accompany him home. That seems to befair. It may be taking a bit of a risk, but it is the only thing to bedone unless we want to do murder, and that is not our game. I am nottaking any chances of hanging while there's money to be got, and nodoubt but that this gentleman will use us fair."

  Westerham caught his meaning, and for the second time took out hispocket-book.

  "I said that you would not steal these notes, and I also said thatI would not give them away. But I have changed my mind. There theyare--and I give you my word that to-morrow I will take the embargo off.It will be easy enough for you to find out whether they are posted aslost or not. I can scarcely do more."

  To this there was greedy assent, and Westerham realised that he wasfree. He did not even wait for the bullet-headed man's full approval,but reached out for his hat.

  There was some dispute as to whom the notes should be given, andfinally it was decided that Mackintosh--such was the name of thebullet-headed man--should keep them in his own charge. And then he anda second man by the name of Hicks accompanied Westerham out.

  In the main road they took a tram and travelled westward. At AldgateWesterham hailed a cab, and the three men drove through the half-emptycity streets, past St. Paul's, and up Fleet Street, into the Strand.

  As they drew near to Walter's, Westerham's quick eye detected a crowdround the hotel. He thrust his hand through the trap-door in the roofand brought the cab to a standstill.

  "Look here," he said quickly to the other men, "that crowd is outsideWalter's--and that is where I live.

  "You can accompany me to the door if you like and see me go in; but Ishould not drive up if I were you, as you will only arouse interest,and possibly someone may see and recognise you. That would be awkwardboth for you and for me."

  Mackintosh gave a grin of agreement, and alighting, the three menwalked towards the hotel.

  As they approached the crowd, Mackintosh and his companion drew awayfrom Westerham.

  "It will do if we see you go in," said the bullet-headed man, "we willwait here." And he moved into a little opening on the side of thestreet opposite the hotel.

  Westerham struck across the Strand and pushed his way through thepress. The hotel door was closed and guarded on either side by aconstable. Through the glass doorway Westerham could see the face ofthe hall porter peering out, pale and anxious and questioning.

  He rapped on the door, and the porter opened it, the policemen makingno demur, seeing that the porter obviously recognised the new arrival.

  At the further end of the hall were gathered a number of the visitors,talking excitedly, but in low voices.

  Two immensely large and solid men were seated on a bench. They rose upas Westerham entered, and he immediately recognised one of them as theinquisitive Mr. Rookley from Scotland Yard.

  Rookley, with a stern, set face, walked forward to meet Westerham, andtouched him with a forefinger on his chest.

  "I have been waiting for you," he said.

  The sense of coming evil against which Westerham had struggled earlierin the evening swept over him again with redoubled force. He made aneffort to shake it off, but again failed to do so.

  "What is it?" he asked, and his voice sounded strange and harsh even tohimself.

  Without a word, Rookley grasped his arm and led him up the stairs, nordid he stop till he reached the second floor, on which were situatedWesterham's sitting-room and modest bedroom.

  Opening the door of the sitting-room, Rookley drew Westerham in andclosed the door again.

  "Look here, Mr. Robinson," he said, "you gave us the slip last time,I admit; and I admit also that it was only by a very dreadful miraclethat I discovered your whereabouts to-night. For I was summoned hereon an awful piece of business. But we've got you now, and I want anexplanation."

  Westerham stared at him with a set face.

  "Now, one thing is certain--I will give you that much credit"--thedetective continued--"that you are not the actual perpetrator of whathas happened. Perhaps, too, it would be better to prepare you for ashock, though you look a pretty strong-nerved man. You'd better braceyourself, Mr. Robinson."

  "All right," said Westerham, quietly.

  Without more ado the detective pushed open the door communicating withWesterham's bedroom and led the way in.

  The room was in darkness, but Rookley, putting his thumb on theelectric button, suddenly switched on the light. And with a cryWesterham stepped back and blundered against the detective.

  For on the bed was stretched Ross, the man who had left him in thecompany of Crow and Melun; and driven hard up to the hilt, straightthrough the man's heart, was a knife which Westerham instantlyrecognised as one of his own.

  The detective seized him almost roughly and hurried him mercilessly upto the bedside.

  "Read that!" he whispered hoarsely.

  Westerham stooped and saw attached to the handle of the knife a luggagelabel which bore the name of Walter's hotel.

  And on the luggage label was printed in hand-writing the followinginscription:--

  "So perish all traitors. Be warned in time. The girl may be the next."