26
Agatha Christie
showed in the girl's pale cheeks.
"I do indeed. The question is, what shall we do next?
You don't want to go to the police, I suppose?"
"Oh, no, please."
"I'm glad you say that. I don't see what good the
police could do, and it would only mean unpleasantness
for you. Now I suggest that you allow me to give you
lunch somewhere and that I then accompany you back
to your lodgings, so as to be sure you reach them safely.
And then, we might have a look for the paper. Because,
you know, it must be somewhere."
"Father may have destroyed it himscff."
"He may, of course, but the other side evidently
doesn't think so, and that looks hopeful for us."
"What do you think it can be? Hidden treasure?"
"By Jove, it might be!" exclaimed Major Wilbra-ham,
all the boy in him rising joyfully to the suggestion.
"But now, Miss Clegg, lunch!"
They had a pleasant meal together. Wilbraham told
Freda all about his life in East Africa. He described
elephant hunts, and the girl was thrilled. When they had
finished, he insisted on taking her home in a taxi.
Her lodgings were near Notting Hill Gate. On arriving
there, Freda had a brief conversation with her landlady.
She returned to Wilbraham and took him up to the
second floor, where she had a tiny bedroom and sitting
room.
"It's exactly as we thought," she said. "A man came
on Saturday morning to see about laying a new electric
cable; he told her there was a fault in the wiring in my
room. He was there some time."
"Show me this chest of your father's," said Wilbra-ham.
Freda showed him a brass-bound box. "You sec,"
she said, raising the lid, "It's empty."
THE CASE OF THE DISCONTENTED SOLDIER 27
The soldier nodded thoughtfully. "And there are no
papers anywhere else?"
"I'm sure there aren't. Mother kept everything in
here."
Wilbraham examined the inside of the chest. Sud-denly
he uttered an exclamation. "Here's a slit in the
lining." Carefully he inserted his hand, feeling about. A
slight crackle rewarded him. "Something's slipped
down behind."
In another minute he had drawn out his find. A piece
of dirty paper folded several times. He smoothed it out
on the table; Freda was looking over his shoulder. She
uttered an exclamation of disappointment.
"It's just a lot of queer marks."
"Why, the thing's in Swahili. $wahili, of all things!"
cried Major Wilbraham. "East African native dialect,
you know."
"How extraordinary!" said Freda. "Can you read it,
then?"
"Rather. But what an amazing thing." He took the
paper to the window.
"Is it anything?" asked Freda tremulously. Wilbra-ham
read the thing through twice, and then came back
to the girl. "Well," he said with a chuckle, "here's your
hidden treasure, all right."
"Hidden treasure? Not really? You mean Spanish
gold--a sunken galleon--that sort of thing?"
"Not quite so romantic as that, perhaps. But it comes
to the same thing. This paper gives the hiding place of a
cache of ivory."
"Ivory?" said the girl, astonished.
"Yes. Elephants, you know. There's a law about the
number you're allowed to shoot. Some hunter got away
with breaking that law on a grand scale. They were on
his trail and he cached the stuff. There's a thundering
28
Agatha Christie
lot of it--and this gives fairly clear directions how to
find it. Look here, we'll have to go after this, you and
"You mean there's really a lot of money in ir?"
"Quite a nice little fortune for you."
"But how did that paper come to be among my
father's things?"
Wilbraham shrugged. "Maybe the Johnny was dying
or something. He may have written the thing down in
Swahili for protection and given it to your father, who
possibly had befriended him in some way. Your father,
not being able to read it, attached no importance to it.
That's only a guess on my part, but I dare say it's not
far wrong."
Freda gave a sigh. "How frightfully exciting!"
"The thing is--what to do with the precious document,''
said Wilbraham. "I don't like leaving it here.
They might come and have another look. I suppose you
wouldn't entrust it to me?"
"Of course I would. But--mightn't it be dangerous
for you?" she faltered.
"I'm a tough nut," said Wilbraham grimly. "You
needn't worry about me." He folded up the paper and
put it in his pocketbook. "May I come to see you
tomorrow evening?" he asked. "I'll have worked out a
plan by then, and I'll look up the places on my map.
What time do you get back from the City?"
"I get back about half-past-six."
"Capital. We'll have a powwow, and then perhaps
you'll let me take you out to dinner. We ought to celebrate.
So long, then. Tomorrow at half-past-six."
Major Wilbraham arrived punctually on the following
day. He rang the bell and inquired for Miss Ciegg. A
maid-servant had answered the door.
"Miss Clegg? She's out."
THE CASE OF THE DIscONTENTED SOLDIER
"Oh!" Wilbraham did not like to suggest that
come in and wait. I'll call back presently," he said.
He hung about in the street outside, expecting eve:
minute to see Freda tripping towards him. The minut
passed. Quarter to seven. Seven. Quarter past sere
Stall no Freda. A feeling of uneasiness swept over hit
He went back to the house and rang the bell again.
"Look here" he said, "I had an appointment wi
Miss Clegg at half-past-six. Are you sure she isn't in,
hasn't--er--left any message?"
"Are you Major Wilbraham?" asked the servant.
"Yes."
"Then there's a note for you. It come by hand."
Wilbraham took it from her and tore it open. It ran
follows:
Dear Major Wilbraham:
Something rather strange has happened. I won't
write more now, but will you meet me at White-friars?
Go there as soon as you get this.
Yours sincerely,
Freda Clegg
Wilbraham drew his brows together as he thougl
rapidly. His hand drew a letter absent-mindedly fror
his pocket. It was to his tailor. "I wonder," he said t,
the maidservant, "if you could let me have a stamp."
"I expect Mrs. Parkins could oblige you."
She returned in a moment with the stamp. It was pai,
for with a shilling. In another minute Wilbraham wa
walking towards the tube station, dropping the envelop
in a box as he passed.
Freda's letter had made him most uneasy. What coul
have taken the girl, alone, to the scene of yesterday'
sinister encounter?
30
Agatha Christie
He shook his head. Of all the foolish things to do!
&nbs
p; Had Reid reappeared? Had he somehow or other prevailed
upon the girl to trust him? What had taken her to
Hampstead?
He looked at his watch. Nearly half-pastseven..She
would have counted on his starting at half-past-six. An
hour late. Too much. If only she had had the sense to
give him some hint.
The letter puzzled him. Somehow, its independent
tone was not characteristic of Freda Clegg.
It was ten minutes to eight when he reached Friars
Lane, It was getting dark. He looked sharply about him;
there was no one in sight. Gently he pushed the rickety
gate so that it swung noiselessly on its hinges. The drive
was deserted. The house was dark. He went up the path
cautiously, keeping a lookout from side to side. He did
not intend to be caught by surprise.
Suddenly he stopped. Just for a minute a chink of
light had shone through one of the shutters. The house
was not empty. There was someone inside.
Softly Wilbraham slipped into the bushes and worked
his way round to the back of the house. At last he found
what he was looking for. One of the windows on the
ground floor was unfastened. It was the window of a
kind of scullery. He raised the sash, flashed a torch (he
had bought it at a shop on the way over) around the
deserted interior and climbed in.
Carefully he opened the scullery door. There was no
sound. He flashed the torch once more. A kitchen--empty.
Outside the kitchen were half a dozen steps and
a door evidently leading to the front pan of the house.
He pushed open the door and listened. Nothing. He
slipped through. He was now in the front hall. Still there
was no sound. There was a door to the right and a door
to the left. He chose the right-hand door, listened for a
THE CASE OF THE DISCONTENTED SOLDIER 31
time, then turned the handle. It gave. Inch by inch he
opened the door and stepped inside.
Again he flashed the torch. The room was unfur-nished
and bare.
Just at that moment he heard a sound behind him,
whirled round--too late. Something came down on his
head and he pitched forward into unconsciousness. ··
How much time elapsed before he regained con-sciousness
Wilbraham had no idea. He returned pain-fully
to life, his head aching. He tried to move and
-. found it impossible. He was boo, nd with ropes.
ii... His wits came back to him suddenly. He remembered
now. He had been hit on the head.
A faint light from a gas jet high up on rthe wall
showed him that he was in a small cellar. He looked
around and his heart gave a leap. A few feet away lay
Freda, bound like himself. Her eyes were closed, but
even as he watched her anxiously, she sighed and they
opened. Her bewildered gaze fell on him and oyous
recognition leaped into them.
"You, too!" she said. "What has happened?"
"I've let you down badly," said Wilbraham.
"Tumbled headlong into the trap. Tell me, did you send
me a note asking me to meet you here?"
The girl's 'eyes opened in astonishment. "17 But you
sent me one."
"Oh, I sent you one, did I?"
"Yes. I got it at the office. It asked me to meet you
here instead of at home."
"Same method for both of us," he groaned, and he
explained the situation.
"I see," said Freda. "Then the idea was--"
"To get the paper.-We must have been followed
yesterday. That's how they got on to me."
"And--have they got it?" asked Freda.
32
Agatha Christie
"Unfortunately, I can't feel and see," said the
soldier, regarding his bound hands ruefully.
And then they both started. For a voice spoke, a voice
that seemed to come from the empty air.
"Yes, thank you," it said. "I've g.ot it, all right. No
mistake about that."
The unseen voice made them both shiver.
"Mr. Reid," murmured Freda.
"Mr. Reid is one of my names, my dear young lady,"
said the voice. "But only one of them. I have a great
many. Now, I am sorry to say that you two have inter-fered
with my plans--a thing I never allow. Your dis
covery of this house is a serious matter. You have not
told the police about it yet, but you might do so in the
future.
"I very much fear that I cannot trust you in the mat-ter.
You might promise--but promises are seldom kept.
And you see, this house is very useful to me. it is, you
might say, my clearing house. The house from which
there is no return. From here you pass on--elsewhere.
You, I am sorry to say, are so passing on. Regret-table--but
necessary."
The voice paused for a brief second, then resumed:
"No bloodshed. I abhor bloodshed. My method is
much simpler. And really not too painful, so I under-stand.
Well, I must be getting along. Good evening to
you both."
"Look here!" It was Wilbraham who spoke. "Do
what you like to me, but this young lady has done
nothing--nothing. It can't hurt you to let her go."
But there was no answer.
At that moment there came a cry from Freda. "The
water--the water!"
Wilbraham twisted himself painfully and followed
THE CASE OF THE DISCONTENTED SOLDIER
33
the direction of her eyes. From a hole up near the ceilinl
a steady trickle of water was pouring in.
Freda gave a hysterical cry. "They're going to drown
tls!"
The perspiration broke out on Wilbraham's brow.
,'We're not done yet," he said. "We'll shout for help.
Surely somebody will hear. Now, both together."
They yelled and shouted at the top of their voices.
Not till they were hoarse did they stop.
"No use, I'm afraid," said Wilbraham sadly. "We're
too far underground and I expect the doors are muffled.
After all, if we could be heard, I've no doubt that brute
would have gagged us."
"Oh!" cried Freda. "And it's all my fault. I got you
into this."
"Don't worry about that, little girl. It's you I'm
thinking about. I've been in tight corners before now
and got out of them. DOn't you lose heart. I'll get you
out of this. We've plenty of time. At the rate that
water's flowing in, it will be hours before the worst hap-pens."
"How wonderful you are!" said Freda. "I've never
met anybody like you--except in books."
"Nonsense--just common sense. Now, I've got to
loosen these infernal ropes."
At the end of a quarter of an hour, by dint of strain-ing
and twisting, Wilbraham had the satisfaction of
feeling that his bonds were appreciably loosened. He
managed to bend his head down and his wrists up till he
was able to attack the knots with his teeth.
Once his hands were free, the rest was only a matter
of time. Cramped, stiff, but free, he bent over the girl.
A minute later she also was free.
So far the Water was only up to their ankles.
34
Agatha Christie
"And now," said the soldier, "to get out of her."
The door of the cellar was up a few stairs, lvlai.r
Wilbraham examined it.
"No difficulty here," he said. "Flimsy stuff, lt wili
soon give at the hinges." He set his shoulders to t and
heaved.
There was the cracking of woodma crash, anl the
door burst from its hinges.
Outside was a flight of stairs. At the top was another
door--a very different affair--of solid wood,
with iron.
"A bit more difficult, this," said Wilbratham
"Hello, here's a piece of luck. It's unlocked."
He pushed it open, peered round it, then beckoned
the girl to come on. They emerged into a passage behind
the kitchen. In another moment they were standing
under the stars in Friars Lane.
"Oh!" Freda gave a little sob. "Oh, how dreadful it's
been!"
"My poor darling." He caught her in his arms.
"You've been so wonderfully brave. Freda--darling
angel--could you ever--I mean, would you--I love
you, Freda. Will you marry me?"
After a suitable interval, highly satisfactory to both
parties, Major Wilbraham said with a chuckle:
"And what's more, we've still got the secret of the
ivory cache."
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