‘Oh, those!’ Sir Henry waved his hand contemptuously. ‘They are nothing! In time the country will settle down and there will be nothing but perfect amity between all those who are now at loggerheads. I think I can speak with authority on that point.’
CHAPTER THREE
A Midnight Visit
That night the two men visited a theatrical performance at the Gaiety Theatre, and afterwards went to the Club where Major Elliott met several acquaintances.
It was late when they returned to Viceregal Lodge, and as Elliott undressed for bed he felt tired and looked forward with some degree of pleasure to a really good night’s rest, a luxury which he had not enjoyed for months.
He got into bed and was almost immediately asleep. He awoke a couple of hours later with a feeling that he was in danger. He lay perfectly quiet and listened, but not a sound disturbed the stillness and presently, thinking he had been dreaming, he turned on his side. But at that moment there was a thud and he felt something touch his back. He fell rather than sprang out of bed and waited. He now heard the sibilant hissing of an indrawn breath and knew that in turning in the bed he had saved his life, for what he had felt was a hand containing a knife which had stabbed at the place where he had been lying.
For some moments there was no sound and Elliott gradually, carefully, felt for the switch of the electric light. He had just reached it when something bounded through the air, and the next moment he was fighting for his life with a practically naked creature, whose body was oiled to an extent that made a grip almost impossible. Elliott searched for and found an arm that was obviously raised to strike, then commenced a terrible struggle. Backwards and forwards the two went, their breath coming in great gasps. Two or three articles of furniture were knocked over, and presently, with a crash, they fell to the floor.
Elliott felt his hand slipping from his opponent’s wrist. The latter, though apparently small, was a man of immense strength and was obviously getting the upper hand. The Major lost his hold, the arm was once again raised to strike, and at that moment the door was flung open and a flood of light lit up the scene. The intruder sprang for the open window, and as he disappeared Sir Henry – for he it was who had entered – fired. He ran to the window and looked out just as the man reached the ground by way of a tree that rose close by. Again he fired, but the dim light spoilt his aim and the ruffian disappeared. Muir quickly returned to Elliott, who was rising rather shakily from the floor.
‘Phew!’ gasped the latter. ‘That was a near thing. I should have been a dead man if you hadn’t turned up, Sir Henry.’
He sat limply on the edge of the bed. Muir walked to the door and called loudly for whisky and sodas, which presently forthcoming, he mixed two stiff drinks and giving one to Elliott, took the other himself.
‘So they’re still after you!’ he said. ‘Thank God your room was close to mine, otherwise I would never have heard a sound. That little brute was a hillman, up to all the tricks of the trade. It never occurred to me that that tree might be used as a means of entrance. Those fellows are as agile as monkeys.’
Elliott took a long drink.
‘That’s better,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘I shall be jolly glad when these plans are handed over. I didn’t expect to be interfered with here!’
‘The question is, who employed that little devil?’
‘By Jove!’ Elliott sat up stiffly. ‘When I arrived at Summer Hill station there was a tall Jewish-looking fellow there watching me as though he were interested in me. Now I’d swear I have seen him two or three times before, but I can’t think where and under what circumstances. It is only an idea, but perhaps he is the key to this business!’
‘He probably is,’ said Sir Henry thoughtfully, ‘but even if we knew where he is, we could not have him arrested just because he was looking at you and you think you have seen him before. The sooner we get those plans to Delhi the better, there certainly is someone who wants them very badly. Then I am going to persuade the Viceroy to comb out India for Bolshevik spies.’
Elliott smiled.
‘What a job!’ he murmured.
Muir drank off his whisky and soda.
‘Now,’ he said briskly, ‘I’m going to interview the sentry and then get the guard to search the grounds. I don’t suppose we’ll find anybody there, unless he, or they, are waiting to make a further attempt, in which case I hope to get them. Do you feel fit enough to come with me? I don’t want to let you out of my sight between now and our arrival in Delhi!’
Elliott laughed and stood up.
‘I’m perfectly fit now,’ he declared. ‘I’ll put some clothes on and come along with pleasure.’
‘Very well,’ said Sir Henry, ‘I’ll wait until you’re ready, and then if you’ll come with me I’ll put something warm over these things.’
Elliott laughed again and walked towards a wardrobe. As he turned Muir uttered a startled exclamation and the Major looked round enquiringly.
‘You’ve had a narrower shave than I thought,’ said the Secretary. ‘Your pyjama jacket is cut right across the back.’
The sapper took it off and surveyed it ruefully.
‘That must have been done when I turned over in bed,’ he said. ‘You see, I thought I heard a sound and lay on my back listening; nothing happened, so I decided that it must have been imagination and turned on my side, and as I turned something struck. I knew that the movement had saved my life, but I didn’t know it was as close as that.’
He was soon dressed, and together the two men entered Sir Henry’s room.
‘We’ll leave the lights on,’ said the latter, as he quickly pulled on some clothes over his pyjamas, ‘then if there is anybody watching, they can go on gazing at the lighted rooms until we pounce on them.’
‘Sounds simple enough,’ remarked Elliott. ‘If only it were, we’d have a chance of getting to Delhi safely. As it is—’ He shrugged his shoulders.
Muir stopped in the act of buttoning up his coat and stared.
‘You’re not having premonitions, are you?’ he asked sharply.
Elliott laughed a little shamefacedly.
‘Well, to tell you the truth I have an uncanny sort of feeling that I’m booked,’ he said. ‘How, or where, or when, I can’t tell you, but it’s there, and I’m going to make extra certain of those plans!’
Sir Henry grunted.
‘Nonsense!’ he snapped. ‘That’s sheer foolishness. I’m going to see that you get to Delhi or my name’s not Muir. Come along!’
He strode to the door, and Elliott followed him. They descended the stairs, and, having let themselves out of the house, went up to the sentry at the gate and accosted him. Sir Henry asked him in Hindustani if he had let anybody pass into the grounds. The man, a smart, alert-looking Gurkha, seemed deeply hurt at such a question, and immediately replied that he had not.
‘Have you noticed any suspicious-looking characters about?’
‘No, sahib.’
‘H’m! Call out the guard!’
This was done and Muir spoke rapidly to the sergeant telling him that he wanted the grounds thoroughly searched and anybody found in them arrested.
‘If they resist, don’t hesitate to use as much force as you like,’ he added.
The soldiers departed eagerly on their errand. Sir Henry turned to Elliott with a smile.
‘Very little will escape them,’ he said. ‘Come along; we’ll have a look round ourselves while we’re here!’
They walked to a tall pine which grew close to the house. Muir stood by it and gazed reflectively upwards.
‘This is the tree your assailant came down by, and probably got up into the room by,’ he said.
‘It seems hardly possible that anything but a monkey could climb that,’ said Elliott. ‘There’s no foothold at all!’
‘No, but these hillmen are first cousins to monkeys,’ replied Sir Henry. ‘He had a jump of not quite four feet from the tree to your window. Pretty daring, you know.’
They wandered on down the slopes and searched among bushes and anywhere that looked as though it could afford shelter for a cat. But they found not a sign of a hidden man, and retraced their steps towards the Lodge. Under the tree again they stopped, and searched the ground round it. There was not even a footprint to suggest that anyone had been there, and they were about to give up their quest and go indoors, when there was a shout. The two men stood still and stared in the direction whence it had come, and presently a shadowy figure darted out from some bushes, and sped rapidly across the lawn closely followed by two others, undoubtedly Gurkhas. Quickly drawing a revolver from his pocket, Sir Henry fired, but missed, and the figure vanished down a slope.
Half an hour later the sergeant reported that the man had got away in spite of being closely followed, so giving him instructions to set a very close watch, Muir led the way into the house, and they ascended to his bedroom.
‘I’m very annoyed at missing that fellow,’ he grumbled. ‘That’s the third time and I used to think I was a good shot!’
‘It would have been rather wonderful if you had hit him in that light and considering the pace he was moving at. Well, it doesn’t matter much. I don’t suppose he’ll trouble us again tonight.’
‘No, he’ll probably keep well away for the time being, but he’s at liberty and will be able to attempt further mischief. Dash it, I was a fool to miss him!’
He sat on his bed, and lit a cigar with an air of disgust.
‘I don’t suppose he’s the only pebble on the beach,’ said Elliott. ‘If you had winged him, there are no doubt others. What I can’t understand is: why are they showing this activity now? Why wasn’t a more determined attempt made to get me when I was out in the wilds?’
Sir Henry shrugged his shoulders.
‘They did try thrice!’ he remarked.
‘Yes, but they might have tried a dozen, two dozen times, and they would have been bound to get me sooner or later.’
He threw himself into a chair.
‘The funny thing is, I never had the slightest doubt of my ability to get through up there. And now I’m full of absurd presentiments like a nervy girl.’
Muir rose from the bed and crossing to the other, clapped him on the shoulder.
‘You’ve had a pretty rotten time one way and another,’ he said. ‘I don’t wonder at your feeling a bit run down. You’ll have to go in for a course of dinners and dances – in fact have a thoroughly gay time when you get to Delhi to make up for it.’
Elliott laughed.
‘Not in Delhi, Sir Henry,’ he said. ‘I’m off to England as soon as I can get away. It’s time the old country saw a bit of me again. I haven’t been home since the War. Gad!’ His eyes lighted up enthusiastically. ‘Just think of it: a cold sharp morning, full cry across country after the hounds, with one’s blood racing through one’s veins in the sheer joy of being alive. Why, the very thought makes me feel young again!’
He rose and walked to the window, stood staring out a moment or two and then returned to Sir Henry.
‘Away with premonitions,’ he said, ‘they’re foolish and childish. I’m going to bed – I’ve a lot of sleep to make up.’
‘Tumble into my bed for the rest of the night,’ said the Secretary. ‘I’m going to lie down on that couch by the window.’
‘Nonsense, I’m not going to turn you out of your bed.’
‘The couch is very comfortable and I shall be perfectly happy there. At any rate I have determined to watch over you like a guardian angel, so here in this room you stop.’
‘Well, I’ll have the couch.’
‘No, you won’t. So turn in and go to sleep!’
Elliott shrugged his shoulders and without further argument undressed and got into bed. In two minutes he was fast asleep. Muir looked at him for a minute or two and then thoughtfully took off his clothes. He took a couple of rugs from a cupboard, switched off the light, and lay down on the couch. The glowing end of his cigar shone in the darkness like a beacon light.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Deputy Commissioner
The next morning Sir Henry Muir rang up the Deputy Commissioner of Police, Colonel Sanders, and asked him to call at Viceregal Lodge. The Colonel came and was met by Muir who immediately took him into his office, where Elliott was seated reading a newspaper. The latter was introduced to the Commissioner, and the three men sat down by the desk.
‘I asked you to come up here, Colonel Sanders,’ said Muir, ‘because I felt that this was the best place to tell you our little story.’
The Commissioner grunted. He was a morose-looking man of about fifty, with a small grey moustache, thinning grey hair and tired blue eyes. He never under any circumstances became agitated, and his general air was one of languor and boredom. But, in spite of that, he had a very sharp brain, and a reputation for shrewdness which was unequalled in the Punjab. His manner was non-committal, and people who did not know him were apt to regard him as a person with a limited amount of intelligence, and a boor.
‘Major Elliott,’ continued Sir Henry, ‘has been away on the frontier for ten months making the most exhaustive plans of our fortifications, passes by which it would be possible for an – er – invading army to cross from Russia to India, and a general detailed survey map of the whole frontier. His instructions were to come direct to the Viceroy at Simla when he had finished and he arrived yesterday – to find that His Excellency had left the day before for Delhi.’
Colonel Sanders nodded, and looked as though he were about to suppress a fawn.
‘Last night,’ went on the Secretary, ‘Major Elliott, who slept in a room here next to mine, had a visitant, who was obviously after his plans, and he very nearly lost his life. I heard the sounds of a struggle and went into the room, but the intruder, a hillman, escaped by climbing down a tree just outside Elliott’s window. I had a revolver and fired, but missed unfortunately. The guard was called out and the grounds searched, and we almost had the fellow, but he got away. This is the fourth time Elliott’s life has been attempted, but the other three attempts were made on the frontier.’
Muir ceased speaking and for a minute or two there was silence. Then:
‘Russian money behind this,’ grunted the Colonel. ‘The whole country is under espionage now.’
‘Exactly,’ said the Secretary, looking rather triumphantly at Elliott.
Again there was a silence. The Commissioner got up, and walked up and down the room once or twice.
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked suddenly, stopping in front of Sir Henry.
‘To see that we are protected as far as possible from any further outrages between here and Delhi.’
‘When are you travelling?’
‘We are leaving here by the six-fifteen rail motor this evening to Kalka, and thence to Delhi by the Calcutta express.’
‘Why not travel by private car to Kalka – the rail motor can be derailed!’
‘Good Lord!’ exclaimed Elliott, speaking for the first time. ‘You’re not very cheerful, Colonel.’
‘If these people are after your plans, they’ll stick at nothing to get them,’ snapped Sanders. ‘A private car would be safer! And leave during the afternoon so that you’ll have daylight all the way!’
Sir Henry rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
‘It seems to me,’ he said, ‘that a motor car could be more easily held up or tampered with than the rail motor.’
Elliott nodded in agreement.
‘How are they to know when you are travelling if you go by road?’ demanded the Commissioner.
‘You may be sure that if they can find out one thing, they can find out another,’ said Elliott.
‘But if they discovered you were travelling by road,’ said the Colonel, ‘it doesn’t follow that they would have time to make arrangements to interfere with you.’
Sir Henry leant back in his chair, and looked questioningly at Elliott.
‘What do you say, Major?’ he asked.
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br /> Elliott smiled.
‘I’d feel a great deal safer in the rail motor,’ he said. Muir nodded.
‘I agree with you.’
Colonel Sanders helped himself to a cigarette from a box on the table, lit it, and, holding the spent match in his fingers, looked from Muir to Elliott and back again.
‘Well, you’ll have your own way, but don’t forget that I advised you to travel by road! You’re going at six-fifteen, you say? Well, be advised in this particular – ring up the stationmaster and order a private rail motor for seven o’clock.’
Sir Henry looked surprised.
‘What on earth for?’ he ejaculated.
‘A blind! There’s bound to be a certain amount of fuss getting a special ready and these people who are so interested in you will get to hear of it somehow. Actually travel by the six-fifteen and nobody will turn up for the other. Only we three will know that it isn’t wanted, and I’ll explain to the railway authorities once you are away.’
‘By Jove!’ said Elliott, ‘that’s a notion.’
‘I’ve got to save you from yourselves somehow,’ growled the Colonel.
‘But supposing there is no other rail motor available,’ questioned Sir Henry.
‘There’s got to be!’ snapped Sanders. ‘No car available and Sir Henry Muir demanding one in the name of the Viceroy! Pshaw!’
Muir looked properly subdued.
‘I’ll see that every station from Kalka to Delhi is watched by the police,’ continued the Colonel. ‘You’ll be all right going down the hill, as you’ll only stop at Barog, and there’ll be a special police officer on the car all the way down who’ll shadow you there. That’s the best I can do for you.’
Both Muir and Elliott expressed their thanks, but the Commissioner waved them aside.
‘If you weren’t fools,’ he said, ‘you’d go down in a private car. I could have sent a police car ahead and one behind you and there wouldn’t have been the slightest danger. However, you’ll go your own way, I suppose.’
The Mystery of Tunnel 51 (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Page 2
