‘Why did you not make the attempt?’
‘Because I wished to interview you personally, and ask you to hand them over to me without trouble.’
‘You mean,’ retorted the Spaniard coolly, ‘that you feared the police of France or Italy might interfere and obtain possession of them. I am not a fool, my friend. I very much regret the necessity that made me squirt ammonia into your face in London. It was very distasteful of me, but I obtained those plans at considerable expense, and I intended to leave London without giving them up. I succeeded, and I assure you my intentions remain the same. If you wish, you can call in the police of Capri; you can have me extradited to London, but you will not obtain those very precious documents.’
‘And why not?’
‘Because I intend to sell them, and enrich myself.’
‘At the expense of my country?’
Luis de Correa shrugged his shoulders.
‘Your country is nothing to me,’ he remarked. ‘If they were plans belonging to Spain it would be a different matter – perhaps.’
‘Listen to me,’ persisted Wallace earnestly. ‘If you go to England under arrest, it will not only be the charge of having in your possession stolen property that will hang over you, as you are probably thinking. You are a man wanted by the police of almost every European nation. A long list of charges, which at present only lack certain links of evidence, might easily be substantiated once you were under restraint. Think of that, de Correa. The result might very well be that you would spend most of the remaining years of your life in penal servitude.’
There was no doubt that the Spaniard was affected. His face paled perceptibly, while those astonishingly frank eyes of his became troubled.
‘That would be most unpleasant,’ he said slowly. ‘The humiliation, the bars, the animal existence – ugh! I could not stand that.’ Then he laughed. ‘Your threats sound dreadful, señor,’ he went on, ‘but, after all, they do not worry me. As you say, the police, for some strange reason, want me in their power, but they have never had me yet and, I assure you, I do not intend that they shall.’
‘Then hand over the plans and, as far as I am concerned, no further steps will be taken against you.’
The Spanish crook shook his head.
‘No,’ he decided; ‘I will not. And in case you really intend to carry out your threat, let me tell you that you can search the whole of this villa and garden, and you will not find them. I do not think having me under arrest would be sufficient to console you for their loss, so what are you going to do?’
‘You are a very foolish man, de Correa. I should imagine that, with your apparently vast experience of breaking the law, you would understand when you have undertaken something that is too big for you.’
Luis de Correa took no notice of the observation, instead:
‘I suppose it was the man Shaw who gave me away; am I not right? He is now in jail, no?’
‘No, but he soon will be.’
‘He is very foolish that one. Still he helped me by sending warning to me in the aeroplane by wireless. That was good of him. You know that?’
‘Yes; I know a warning was sent, but it wasn’t from Shaw. It was at my instigation, because I knew the French would be on the watch for you. Afterwards my agent saved you from being too closely scrutinised, otherwise you would even now be in a French prison.’
An unmistakable gleam of admiration showed in the Spaniard’s eyes as he studied his visitor.
‘Now I have again met you,’ he remarked, ‘and am beginning to know you better, I am more sorry than ever that I used means so violent to escape from you in London. It is not my nature to do that sort of thing, because I abhor force. But, alas! What else could I do after my friend so fortuitously informed me who you were?’
‘Ah!’ exclaimed Wallace. ‘I guessed that the American had something to do with it. You are a very lucky man, de Correa.’
The Spaniard showed a perfect set of white teeth in a smile.
‘I admit it, señor,’ he nodded. ‘All my life have I been lucky.’ He leant forward. ‘Since you want to take back to London the plans,’ he suggested, ‘let us make the bargain.’
‘What kind of a bargain?’ demanded Sir Leonard.
‘I admit to you that the plans are yet in my possession. It would be useless to say otherwise, since you know so much. But they are hidden where neither you nor any other would find them. It was my intention to dispose of them to the nation which offered the best price. I will sell them to you, señor, for less than I would take from others, because you have been frank with me, and you are a man for whom I have conceived a deep respect.’
The Chief of the British Secret Service smiled.
‘And what is your price?’ he asked.
‘My lowest price to other countries would be £100,000,’ was the immediate answer; ‘to you I will give them for £75,000. What do you say?’
‘No,’ declared Wallace. ‘I will not even give you £100. They belong to England, and to England they will be returned for nothing.’
Luis de Correa shrugged his shoulders.
‘It is ended then,’ he remarked. ‘I suppose you will call the police, and England will no more see the plans. It is a pity. Will you take some refreshment, señor?’
‘No, thanks.’
At that moment there came the sound of a commotion outside. The crook looked a trifle startled, but Wallace merely smiled.
‘It is my assistants,’ he explained. ‘I told them to come to me after half an hour. I suppose your servant is endeavouring to prevent their entrance.’
The handsome Spaniard sat as though speculating a moment; then rose from his chair.
‘Since it is your wish that they should join you,’ he said, ‘I will bring them to you.’
Sir Leonard’s eyes gleamed, and de Correa caught the look, promptly misunderstanding it.
‘You think I will take the opportunity to escape?’ he surmised. ‘You are wrong, señor. You have my word that I will return and bring your men with me.’
Wallace slightly inclined his head.
‘I accept your word,’ he stated gravely.
Luis de Correa went out. He found Lalére and Kendal arguing with his manservant, and invited them to enter. They promptly accepted the invitation.
‘Another has gone to the back,’ said the Italian menial sullenly.
‘Then he also shall be admitted,’ was his master’s reply.
Asking the newcomers to wait, he hurried to the rear of the house, and brought in Digby, who was becoming exasperated by the uncompromising refusal of a woman servant to let him enter. They joined Sir Leonard in the salon. He was still occupying his seat, but rose when they entered.
‘We will return to Capri,’ he announced. ‘I am sorry, de Correa, that you refuse to listen to reason. Perhaps you will change your mind?’
‘I will change my mind for £75,000, señor – no less,’ was the reply.
Wallace turned to the others.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We can do no good by staying here.’
Lalére and Digby looked at him inquiringly, Kendal began to ask a question, but thought better of it.
‘And the police?’ asked de Correa.
‘I have come to the conclusion that I can do no good by calling in the police – yet,’ replied Sir Leonard. ‘It is a great pity that you have even caused me to think of such a step. You would be a very decent fellow to know, de Correa, if you were not a crook.’
‘I am myself tired of the profession,’ admitted the Spaniard. ‘It was my intention to settle down here, if I were permitted.’
‘There would be nothing to prevent you, if you had handed back the plans. It would also have been a gesture proving you really intended to live honestly in future.’
‘It must remain my final coup as a crook,’ laughed de Correa.
He accompanied his unwelcome guests to the door, and watched them walk down the path. There was a puzzled frown on his face.
He returned to the salon deeply thoughtful; then, with true Southern gaiety, smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
‘What does it matter?’ he exclaimed. ‘I have the plans. He little knew that, all the time he was sitting with me, they were right under his nose.’
Closing the door he walked across to the piano, lightly humming a tune, and lifted the lid. He then bent over the top, and stretched his arm inside. The next moment his face had paled, and his song changed to a string of startled oaths. Drawing out a small slip of paper, that looked as though it had been torn from a notebook, he gazed at it with incredulous eyes, and slowly and bitterly read:
You should not be over-confident. You thought the interior of the piano was the last place I would search. It was the first, because you took the unnecessary trouble of closing the lid when I entered the room. I thought I should have been compelled to use force. I am delighted you prevented that by going out to my friends, thus enabling me to help myself without opposition.
Goodbye.
NEXT IN THE SERIES
GET WALLACE
Sir Leonard Wallace, the famous chief of the Secret Service, finds that the peace of Europe is threatened by a gang engaged in the theft and sale of national secrets. Wallace gets busy, and is assisted by the gang-leader’s own fear of him and his anxiety to get the Englishman into his power.
Wallace’s investigations, his startling discoveries and his escapes from death make this one of the most exciting books in Alexander Wilson’s espionage thriller series.
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About the Author
ALEXANDER WILSON was a writer, spy and secret service officer. He served in the First World War before moving to India to teach as a Professor of English Literature and eventually became Principal of Islamia College at the University of Punjab in Lahore. He began writing spy novels whilst in India and he enjoyed great success in the 1930s with reviews in the Telegraph, Observer and the Times Literary Supplement amongst others. Wilson also worked as an intelligence agent and his characters are based on his own fascinating and largely unknown career in the Secret Intelligence Service. He passed away in 1963.
By Alexander Wilson
The Mystery of Tunnel 51
The Devil’s Cocktail
Wallace of the Secret Service
Get Wallace!
His Excellency, Governor Wallace
Microbes of Power
Wallace at Bay
Wallace Intervenes
Chronicles of the Secret Service
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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First published in 1933.
This ebook edition published by Allison & Busby in 2015.
Copyright © 1933 by THE ALEXANDER WILSON ESTATE
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-0-7490-1860-3
Wallace of the Secret Service (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Page 34
