Wallace of the Secret Service (Wallace of the Secret Service Series)

by Alexander Wilson

  He paused, and Wallace held a cup of tea to his lips. When he had drunk a few drops he pushed the cup away, and continued.

  ‘The following afternoon I called at the house with the intention of secreting myself there if possible, for I knew that I would stand no chance at night of getting anywhere near it. I was admitted, but told that my friend was out. After waiting for some time I pretended to leave but hid myself in the garden, and reentered the house as soon as I felt sure that I could do so safely. In the room where the meeting was to be held was a large carved chest, and in it I concealed myself and awaited events.

  ‘It was a most uncomfortable ordeal. I was in that box for nearly six hours before the meeting took place, and by that time my limbs were so cramped that practically all feeling had left them. But I forgot my disabilities when the conspirators arrived. There must have been twenty or thirty of them, and they discussed plans for a great demonstration against the British, including the mutiny of Egyptian troops in the Sudan and the massacre of all British officials and advisers. The owner of the house was apparently the leading spirit, and in his possession I learnt was a book containing the names of every important member of the extreme party with a description of the duty allotted to him when the uprising occurs.

  ‘The book was kept in a safe in that room I heard and at the suggestion of somebody, was brought out, and the names and duties read over. It was then returned to its receptacle, a date was fixed for the demonstration, and the meeting broke up.’

  ‘What is the date?’ asked Wallace sharply.

  ‘The first of September, sir.’

  ‘Three weeks from today,’ calculated Sir Leonard quickly. ‘Go on!’

  ‘I made up my mind to obtain the book,’ continued Henderson, ‘and waited in that awful chest for another half hour. Then I tried to get out, but I was so numbed that I could hardly move. After some time I managed, with much effort, and by gradual stages, to push up the heavy lid, but my arms were almost nerveless, and it crashed down again with noise enough to rouse the dead. Almost at once I heard two or three people running into the room, the chest was opened, and I was discovered. There is not much more to tell, sir. They hauled me out; I could not stand, and was unable to make a fight for it. At first they were inclined to kill me, but the owner of the house decided to keep me alive, and force me to tell what I knew. It was useless to keep up the pretence that I was an Egyptian myself. Indeed he immediately guessed I was an Englishman, for he tore off the false moustache I was wearing, and rubbed some of the stain from my face. I was thrown into an underground, evil-smelling cellar full of rubbish, and without an article of furniture. Every day I was brought up and questioned, either by the fellow himself, or his friends. They occasionally gave me water, but nothing to eat. Then at last, I was released and brought here. I don’t know how you managed it, sir, but I owe you my life.’

  Sir Leonard explained how he had been able to obtain Henderson’s freedom, then ordered the latter to try and sleep again.

  ‘I will look after you myself until you can get about,’ he declared. ‘You must stay here for today. Tomorrow, if you are better, I’ll engage another room close by. It’s beef-tea and sleep for you, Henderson, for today anyway. Now, Achmet,’ he turned to the Arab, who had followed Henderson’s story with deep interest, ‘you and I are going to find our way into that house, and obtain the book – the sooner the better.’

  A gleam came into Achmet’s eyes, but Henderson looked alarmed.

  ‘Don’t you think they’ll expect something like that, and be waiting for you?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ll have to risk it,’ was the calm reply.

  ‘I wish I could come with you, sir.’

  ‘My dear chap, you’ve done your share. Achmet and I will manage all right. Will you describe to him the house, and the way to get to it?’

  Henderson did so; then Sir Leonard told the Arab to go, and meet him at ten that night by the bridge. Achmet seemed to think that the hour was too early, but Wallace explained that he wanted to inspect the place before attempting to enter it.

  ‘When you go down now,’ he added, ‘look as disgruntled as you like, call me the worst names you can think of, and let it be known that, after ordering your attendance and arranging for a dahabeeyah, I have changed my mind and dismissed you. That ought to keep suspicion from you. Do you think you can find the house from Mr Henderson’s description?’

  The grinning man declared that he could, and departed. Sir Leonard shaved, bathed, and dressed, then interviewed the manager, as a result of which no servants went near his room all day, except to hand in bowls of beef-tea. No doubt this caused a certain amount of mystification – the manager himself was puzzled, for he had been told very little – but Wallace did not mind very much. By evening Henderson’s condition had greatly improved, and he was able to have a bath and shave, which made an extraordinary difference to his appearance.

  After dinner Wallace took some garments from a suitcase, changed into them, then stained his face, neck and right arm a deep brown. He smiled rather ruefully at the other – an artificial arm does not require any stain to make it brown, especially when the hand is covered by a glove of that colour. He had completed the transformation, and was examining himself critically in a mirror, when Henderson, who had been sleeping, awoke. The latter, to his astonishment and dismay, saw a typical fellah standing before him and demanded to know what he was doing there. Sir Leonard laughed and announced himself, whereupon the other whistled with amazement.

  ‘It’s a great disguise, Sir Leonard,’ he remarked.

  ‘Glad you like it,’ returned his chief shortly. ‘Now, as soon as I’ve gone, lock yourself in, and open the door for no one until you hear my voice. I’ve bolted both the windows, though I doubt if anybody could get in that way; and here is a revolver. Put it under your pillow.’

  He handed his subordinate the weapon, and secreted another in his clothing in handy proximity to the wicked-looking knife already stuck in his girdle, then went quietly to the door.

  ‘Good luck, Sir Leonard,’ said Henderson.

  Wallace nodded his thanks, and the next moment was looking cautiously up and down the corridor. Nobody was about, and he slipped out, made his way to the service stairs, and quietly descended. Twice he was compelled to hide to avoid running into servants, but eventually was out of the hotel walking swiftly to the bridge. He heard a clock strike ten just as he reached it to find Achmet leaning on the parapet gazing down at the feluccas riding at anchor below. He tapped him on the shoulder, but Achmet looked him up and down without recognition until Wallace quietly announced himself, then a similar look of surprise came on the Arab’s face to that which had been on Henderson’s.

  ‘It is wonderful,’ he breathed.

  ‘Not very appropriate, I’m afraid,’ muttered Sir Leonard, ‘but a good disguise.’

  He chuckled to himself as he remembered that the last time he had worn it had been at a Covent Garden ball.

  Without another word Achmet set off, with the other in close attendance. Before long they had plunged into a district of narrow streets and labyrinthine alleys, where the old buildings huddled together, and the latticed windows above appeared to lean over and almost touch each other. Although late, the tortuous streets were crowded with water carriers, merchants, peddlers, closely-veiled women, beggars, donkeys, horses, goats and, here and there, camels. After walking for some time they reached a slightly wider, almost deserted, thoroughfare containing houses of a better class. Before one, surrounded by a high wall, Achmet stopped.

  ‘This is the place, Excellency,’ he announced simply.

  Walking on a dozen yards, Sir Leonard squatted down in the deeper shadows on the opposite side of the road with his companion beside him. For a long time he contemplated the building in silence, then whistled softly to himself.

  ‘It is going to be a bigger job to enter that place than I imagined,’ he murmured at last. ‘I thought we might have been able to climb the wall
and get into the garden easily enough, but it’s too high. There is only one thing for it, and that is to knock at the gate, overcome the man who opens it, and truss him up somewhere where he won’t be discovered until we have finished our job. Once in the garden, the rest shouldn’t be too difficult.’

  Achmet nodded but made no comment, and the two continued to squat where they were for another half hour. Then Wallace rose. Ten minutes before, a belated string of camels had passed, moving with stately deliberation towards the bazaar. Since then not a human being, or an animal of any sort, had been seen, and it seemed safe enough to make the attempt.

  ‘As soon as the gate opens,’ he whispered, ‘push your way in with me, and shut it directly we are inside. Don’t bother about the gatekeeper, I’ll deal with him.’

  In response to his knock a little grill opened, and he could dimly see the outlines of a dark face beyond.

  ‘What dost thou require?’ a voice asked.

  ‘We have a message for the Lord,’ replied Achmet promptly.

  The heavy wooden door swung open, and Wallace entered immediately, pushing back the man who stood before him. Achmet followed, and closed the barrier. The gatekeeper commenced to utter protests, but Wallace produced his revolver, and brought down the butt on his head. He collapsed without a sound, the Englishman catching him as he fell, and lowering him to the ground. Looking round the small garden, Wallace noticed the dim outlines of a well, and thither he and his companion conveyed the unconscious form of their victim. Once there, they tore strips from his own clothing, and gagged and bound him, leaving him lying well hidden behind the wheel. The first part of their task had been easy, now it remained for them to get into the house, which was in complete darkness, as though the inmates had gone to bed. Henderson’s description of the interior had left a picture in Sir Leonard’s mind, and once inside he felt he could not go wrong.

  It was a peculiar building, half ancient, half modern, part of it having obviously been pulled down and rebuilt. Wallace studied it in silence for some minutes, endeavouring to calculate where the room, which was his objective, could be. He was not long making up his mind, and crept towards a low balcony followed by his assistant. He could just reach it, and with remarkable agility, considering he was only able to use one arm, which brought a low grunt of admiration from Achmet, swung himself up. The Arab was soon standing by his side, and they found their further progress barred by two French windows. But to a man who had studied the intricacies of safe-breaking, the opening of a locked window presented little difficulty. He produced a bunch of small steel instruments from somewhere among the folds of his clothing, and worked silently at top and bottom where the bolts were sheathed. In five minutes they were in the room, listening intently. No sound disturbed the silence, and presently a thin ray of light shot out, circled quickly round, and was gone. Sir Leonard Wallace had taken his bearings, found also that his calculations had been correct; he and Achmet had undoubtedly come to the right apartment. In his rapid survey he had glimpsed the chest in which Henderson had crouched for so long, the table round which the conspirators must have sat, the safe remote in a corner which probably contained the precious book. He had noticed also that there was only one entrance apart from the windows.

  ‘Go and stand close to that door,’ he directed Achmet, ‘and warn me if you hear the slightest sound.’

  Again the brilliant but narrow beam of light stabbed the darkness, indicating to Achmet where to go, and was extinguished as soon as he arrived there. Moving softly, without aid from his torch, Sir Leonard reached the safe. Once more the flashlight came into play as he studied it. Although small it was an essentially modern article, and he drew a deep breath as he eyed the dial. Then he was down on his knees before it, had extinguished the light, and was rubbing the tips of his fingers on the carpet until they glowed and tingled. He had made a study of opening safes soon after joining the Secret Service. It was an art that he had learnt more as a whim than anything else, but it had come in useful more than once. Presently, with his ear pressed against the face of the safe, he was twirling the dial with those sensitive fingers of his.

  The minutes went by, but nothing happened. He felt a bead of perspiration break out upon his forehead, and paused for a moment to wipe it away, smiling grimly to himself when he found that his hand was trembling. Once again set himself to his task; then, at last, he gave vent to a low exclamation. The handle was flung over with a metallic click, and the door opened. Immediately the inquisitive ray of his torch was searching among the masses of papers and cash boxes within, to hold steadily on a small volume bound in red leather. Taking it out he opened it, and eagerly examined the pages. For a moment a sense of disappointment came over him, then he smiled. He could hardly expect to find what he was seeking written in English or French. A whispered command brought Achmet to his side, and the Arab carefully studied page after page.

  ‘It is the book, effendi,’ he declared at last. ‘There are many names here and much information.’

  A deep sigh escaped from Sir Leonard.

  ‘It isn’t written in Arabic, is it?’

  ‘No, Excellency. That is Turkish.’

  ‘I thought so.’

  A moment later the safe was closed and locked, and the two men crept across the room to the window, the book clasped tightly under Wallace’s arm. They were quickly over the balcony, and back in the garden, hurrying towards the gate. Then they stood stockstill, as though rooted to the spot, as a thunderous knocking suddenly broke the stillness.

  ‘Damn!’ swore Sir Leonard softly but fervently.

  Again came the noisy hammering, and he drew Achmet into the deeper darkness of a group of trees.

  ‘Whoever they are, they’ll have the whole household about our ears presently,’ he muttered. ‘Go and let them in, Achmet. You may not rouse their suspicion.’

  He had come to the conclusion that it was better to risk opening the door than to be caught between two fires, with the certainty of a search being made for the gatekeeper.

  The banging had now developed into a continuous rat-a-tat. Achmet hurried to the gate and, hastily unbolting it, threw it open. At once a tall figure strode in, followed by two others. He subjected Achmet to a loud tirade, which Wallace rightly guessed to mean that he was censuring the Arab for his sluggishness. Then, as he was about to pass on, he bent and looked closely into the latter’s face, calling out something sharply to his followers as he did so. Another man appeared with a lamp, which illumined the scene, and threw Achmet’s face into sharp relief. Exclamations of astonishment and wrath broke from all four newcomers, and Wallace, observing that the game was up, broke cover and ran to his subordinate’s assistance, the precious book tucked safely away in his clothing. As he did so two other men came out of the house, making the odds six to two; perhaps even greater if there were others outside.

  His sudden appearance took the Egyptians by surprise, and he was on them, had brought down his revolver butt on two heads, laying their owners low, before any attempt at defence was made by the others.

  ‘Run for it Achmet,’ he shouted and, sweeping another man aside, was out in the street with the Arab in close attendance.

  There, however, they found their passage barred by two gigantic Ethiopians, who swooped upon them with long knives, and matters began to look ominous. Sir Leonard did not want to shoot for fear of rousing the whole neighbourhood. He sidestepped the onrush of one man, cleverly tripping him as he stumbled by. When the fellow measured his length on the ground he dropped his knife, and Wallace kicked it away. At the same time Achmet was engaged with the second, who drove his knife down with such force that it would have almost split the Arab in two, if it had taken effect, instead of which it proved the Ethiopian’s downfall. Missing his object he overbalanced, and was an easy prey to the upward lunge of Achmet’s weapon. But the others were on them by now, and they were forced to turn and meet them, to find themselves fighting desperately not with four, but with six or seven adversar
ies. Wallace no longer hesitated to fire; it was obvious that he and his companion would quickly be overcome if he did not. Shooting with deadly purpose at their legs, he brought down three. None of their assailants had firearms, and they were at a big disadvantage. Seeing their comrades fall, the rest drew back in confusion, whereupon Wallace and Achmet seized the opportunity and ran. Several people roused by the firing had appeared, but the two had dashed by them before they understood what the trouble was about. There was a stern pursuit, but, chiefly owing to Achmet’s cleverness in doubling and twisting in among the narrow alleys, they eventually got clear away.

  Sir Leonard went straight to the residence of the Sirdar. He had a great deal of difficulty in obtaining admittance, but eventually prevailed, his English voice and commanding manner overcoming the distrust caused by his disguise. The Sirdar was awakened and, when told the name of his visitor, immediately descended from his bedroom. Wallace put all the facts of the conspiracy before him including the proposed date of the demonstration, the plans for the mutiny of Egyptian troops, and the massacre of British officials and advisers, and showed him the red book. The Sirdar, who was greatly impressed and perturbed by all he had been told, sent for a secretary who understood Turkish. The latter was instructed to copy out the names and make a précis of the information contained in the book.

  It was a long task and took over two hours. At last it was done, and Wallace wearily returned to his hotel, satisfied that the duty which had brought him to Egypt was accomplished. It remained now for him to get out of the country safely, and he smiled grimly as he remembered the threats of his unwelcome visitors of the previous night. Achmet left him at the entrance to Shepheard’s.