It was a minute or two before Gimlet could speak. Then he said, "Which way did they go?"
Cub pointed. "They got away in a motor boat."
Gimlet wrung the water from his hair and eyes. "No use worrying about it. They had everything set for a get-away. I'm lucky to be here. Br-r-r—it's cold. Let's get out of this.
"
"What about your face, sir?" asked Copper. "Someone hit you pretty hard."
Gimlet stood up. "It's nothing serious. Wenson tried to crown me with the butt of his pistol. I'll tell you about it later. There's nothing we can do here. Let's go home and get into some dry clothes. The police will never find that boat in this fog."
They set off up the tunnel. Before they had gone far, lights appeared, and the sound of running footsteps could be heard.
But the newcomers turned out to be a police sergeant and some constables. The sergeant challenged, but when he realised who they were he came on.
Gimlet told him that he need not go any farther, and why. As they walked back up the tunnel the sergeant informed them that the General was in the chapel. He went on to say that the cordon was just being formed when shots inside the chapel buildings had caused the General to give the order to break in. The police were now in occupation.
Reaching the underground chamber the first person they saw was the General, who, upon their arrival, greeted them with a cry of relief. "I was afraid they'd got you!" he exclaimed, speaking to Gimlet. Then, when he saw the condition they were in he suggested that they should go straight on to headquarters for a bath and a change of clothes. He would join them there as soon as he had made the arrangements called for by the situation.
Gimlet gave him a brief account of what had happened, after which, in a police car, they went on to Brummel Square.
CHAPTER XII
A WOLF COMES BACK
SOME three hours later, after a hot bath, an overdue meal and a change of clothes, in the presence of the General notes were compared and Gimlet was able to tell the others how he had fallen into the hands of the enemy, and what had happened afterwards—not, as he explained, that there was very much to tell.
The trouble really began, he revealed, when he had taken his seat on the platform of the village hall at Lorrington. When he sat down in his chair he was conscious of a sharp pain, a prick, and looking for the reason he discovered a drawing pin. He thought little of it at the time. He certainly did not connect it with the Werewolves. He took it to be a mischievous prank on the part of someone with a warped sense of humour, or else it had been left there, carelessly, by the people who had decorated the hall for the occasion. In the light of subsequent events he had realised that it had been deliberately planted there.
The chair provided for him, as President, was in the middle; moreover, it was the largest, so there could be no mistake as to where he would sit. The point of the pin, asserted Gimlet, must have been treated with some sort of drug or poison, although there was no indication of that at the time.
"I imagine it would be one like this," put in the General, taking a match-box from his pocket and shaking out of it a number of squat, rather fat drawing pins.
"Exactly," agreed Gimlet quickly. "Where did you get those?"
"I found them at the chapel—to say nothing of some other interesting lethal devices," returned the General. "Watch." Picking up a pencil he pressed gently on the point of the pin. It sank slightly and two drops of liquid oozed out. "It works rather on the lines of a snake's poison fangs—simple but effective," murmured the General. imagine they could be used either for poison or dope, as the case demanded. But carry on."
"In my case it must have been dope," resumed Gimlet. "I remember feeling drowsy, but it was not until I stood up to speak that I realised that something was seriously wrong, and then it was too late to do anything about it. I recollect the lights going out, and that's all. I must have lost consciousness. When I came round I was in the chapel, although I did not know it at the time."
He went on to describe how the doctor, who was one of several people present, was just putting away a hypodermic syringe, having injected him with an antidote for the drug. At any rate, his faculties quickly returned. When it was seen that he was fully conscious he was taken to an imitation court-room where a mock trial was staged, with a masked man playing the part of judge. Wenson was there. He acted as the prosecuting counsel, reading a list of alleged crimes. There was no question of putting up any sort of resistance, explained Gimlet, because his hands were tied behind his back. Moreover, he was guarded by two men who wore the wolf head-dress of the organization.
Suddenly, he continued, there was a good deal of noise overhead, and soon afterwards the proceedings were interrupted when a man burst into the room to say that the police were upstairs. The result was a panic flight in which he hoped he might be overlooked and left behind. In this he was disappointed. He was grabbed by his guards and taken along the escape tunnel which now appeared. Wenson seemed determined that he should go with them, and that undoubtedly would have happened had not two factors combined to prevent it. The first was the speed of the pursuit, which gave Wenson no time to get the retreat properly organized; the second, said Gimlet, smiling at the recollection, was his own behaviour. Perceiving that lie was doomed and so had nothing more to lose, he refused to walk, which meant that his guards had to half carry, half drag him along. This not only slowed down the escape, but kept the retreat in a state of pandemonium. Gimlet smiled again as he described how, on reaching the boat, he had kicked out at everyone who came within reach. This also helped to make the arrangements for departure run less smoothly.
Here the General put in another word. "What I can't understand is why they didn't shoot you out of hand."
"Some of them were most anxious to," replied Gimlet. "But you know what the average German is for implicit obedience to orders—not so much as a matter of willing discipline as because he is scared stiff of the people over him. Apparently Wenson's orders were to get me alive, and to give the devil his due he tried his utmost to do that. Had he not been cluttered up with me the whole bunch could have got away quite comfortably; as it was, there seemed to be a fair chance that if I continued throwing my weight about I might sink the ship—literally. Finally, as the business was getting urgent—we could hear someone running up the tunnel—even Wenson lost his temper and made a swipe at me with the butt of his pistol. I ducked, but I was not quite fast enough, with the result that instead of the pistol landing on my skull it caught me on the side of the face and knocked me into the drink."
"I saw that happen," declared Cub.
"That's all there was to it," concluded Gimlet. "Either they hadn't time to finish me off or else they assumed that I had gone to the bottom for good; anyway, they left me to it. I should have gone to the bottom, too, if you fellows hadn't turned up because with my hands tied I couldn't swim. All I
could do was hold my breath and kick out with my legs-- and I couldn't have gone on doing that for long."
Cub then took up the story, giving Gimlet an account of all that had happened since he departed for Lorrington.
The General concluded the debate by describing how, in accordance with Cub's plan, he was throwing a cordon round the chapel when the noise of shooting inside took them in with a rush. There was no opposition. Three casualties were picked up—an unconscious tramp, the Nazi who Trapper had tied to the bed, and the doctor. All were now dead. The tramp had come round and had been shot dead resisting arrest. The doctor had died of gunshot wounds on the way to hospital—presumably the shots that had been fired when Copper burst into the sick-room—and the Nazi had killed himself by poison in the same manner as those in the Hotel Europa. "In future we shall have to try to remember to unscrew these false teeth they carry," observed the General drily.
"I put the River Police on to search for the motor boat right away, but they haven't a hope while this infernal fog persists," he continued. "We don't even know which way the boat went, upstream or
down. The Wolves may have another bolt-hole somewhere, like the one through which they escaped. They might have a hiding place on one of the hundreds of ships of one sort and another in the dock area. To start and search every one, every warehouse and every wharf, isn't a practicable proposition. However, we can rely on the River Police to do everything possible. By the way, the casualties were taken to the mortuary. I put a man from the Yard on the job of going through their clothes to see if there was anything of interest, anything in the nature of a clue to where the others might be going. There was nothing, although after our experience with the two Wolves at the Europa that didn't surprise me. Nazi security precautions were always like iron, so it is only reasonable to expect it from these fellows. The only remaining hope was the doctor'
s house. I went there
myself. There was nothing there, either. The man was unmarried—lived with a housekeeper. She's a German of the sullen sort. She says she knows nothing—which may be true. Anyway, she won't speak. The doctor seems to have been running a genuine practice; his books prove that. He may have been forced into this Werewolf business quite recently, and was then only called upon when he was needed. Anyhow, the point is, up to the moment we've found nothing there likely to help us. I've still got a man searching."
"What's happening at the chapel?" asked Gimlet.
"I've got two of the best men from the Yard going through the place with a fine comb,"
answered the General. "If you feel up to it I was going to suggest that we went back to see if the search has produced results."
"I hope it has, or we're going to lose a lot of time trying to pick up the trail again," said Gimlet. "We've lost the one we were on, that's certain. The chapel, as a wolf den, is finished. As things fell out that couldn't be prevented, but it's a pity."
"The Wolves will have to show their tracks somewhere pretty soon," asserted the General.
"Yes, and when they do it will be to kill somebody," returned Gimlet bitterly. "Well, we'
ll do what we can. I'm still of opinion that the chapel was not the general headquarters of the gang in this country. It may have been the London hideout, but Wenson was in charge there and he didn't strike me as being the big noise of the entire organization. In fact, I'm sure he wasn't, from the way he dealt with me. He was acting under orders. We know that the Wolves have an aircraft and unless I've missed my guess the King Wolf won't be far away from its base. It seems likely that he would have to go to Germany from time to time, and the only way he could do that would be by air."
"I think you're right," agreed the General. "Apart from going to Germany it is my experience that the head man of any crooked show places himself in the best position to get
clear should the need arise. But let's go down to the chapel to see if anything has turned up to give us a fresh scent. That building has been in use for some time, so we've got a fair chance."
Cub stepped into the conversation. "Talking of picking up a fresh scent, sir, reminds me of the hunt," he said. "Would it be worth while trying to find out how those two Wolves who went hunting managed to get horses? They could hardly have brought them from Germany."
"I went into that right away," answered the General. "Obviously it was an angle not to be overlooked. The horses were hired from a local livery stable, by two strangers. They paid a deposit—which incidentally has been forfeited—and they haven't been seen since. The horses were found wandering about by a farm hand who recognised them and took them back to their stable. But let's get along to the chapel."
On arrival it was at once evident that the two expert searchers from the Yard had done their job well. The contents of every drawer, cupboard and receptacle, had been collected, neatly arranged and numbered. The walls and floors had been probed for secret hiding places. The result was that a considerable amount of material had been accumulated, much of it of course, being wearing apparel which the Werewolves in the haste of their departure had not had time to pack. There was, in fact, so much stuff that time would be needed to go through it all. Evidence of Werewolf activity was there in plenty. There were weapons of many sorts, bottles and jars of chemicals, grenades, metal gas containers, garotting ropes, daggers—a miscellaneous collection that was not without interest although it served no useful purpose. As the General remarked, it was all stuff that could be replaced easily by the Wolves. In a cupboard had been found a number of the wolfish masks such as had first been seen at the Europa; some were fitted with gas filters, others not. Perhaps the most gruesome discovery was an axe, stated by the General to be a German execution axe, the purpose of which was known to them, although they did not discuss it.
The General, with the help of the men from the Yard, went over everything in turn, while the others watched, satisfied to leave the examination in the hands of men specially trained in the work. This occupied some time, and Cub, getting bored, went for a stroll round. Presently he found himself in the chapel. It was just as he had last seen it. Finding nothing of interest there he walked on to one of the windows that overlooked the street.
There was only one person in sight—the Cockney newsagent with whom he had held a conversation on the occasion of his first visit. He was sweeping the pavement in front of his shop. After watching him for a moment it occurred to Cub that the man might be able to tell him something, for he recalled that he had made a remark about knowing most of the regular congregation by sight. Not with any great confidence, but feeling that he might as well be doing something, he unfastened the front door and stepped out.
The newsagent recognised him instantly, and greeted him with a wave. 'What cheer!" he cried, pausing in his sweeping. "You must 'ave got it bad, mate,"
"Got what bad?" inquired Cub, sauntering along to the man. "Why, the religious bug. To-day ain't Sunday."
"What of it?"
"Oh, nothin'. I jest wondered if you'd got a special prayer meetin' on or somethin'."
"What gave you that idea?"
"Well, first I see one o' the regular churchgoers moochin' round, then I see you come out.
I thought maybe there was something goin' on."
Cub's manner changed as the significance of these words dawned on him. "What's that?
You saw one of the regular congregation?"
"Yus."
"Where?"
"'E was back."
'ere a minute ago. I think I saw 'im go round the
"Ah," breathed Cub. "I'll go and find him." By an effort he kept his voice normal, for if what the man had said was true there seemed to be more than a possibility that those inside were in danger. There was, he reasoned, a chance that the Wolf might be merely a scout, sent round to find out what was happening at the chapel; but even so, in that case there would be no need for him to approach so near. The police car outside would tell him all that he needed to know.
As soon as he was inside the building Cub quickened his steps. The thought in his mind was, should he try to find the Wolf or first warn the others that there was one about? He decided on the latter course, and hastened on towards the door of the vestry, through which he passed to reach the chapel. Reaching it he pulled up short. The door was shut.
He was sure that he had left it open. None of the others would be likely to close it. Who, then, . . .? A sudden awareness of danger prompted him to draw his pistol. Taking a step forward on tip-toe, with the greatest possible caution he turned the door handle. To his great relief the door yielded to his pressure and he peeped inside.
One glance confirmed what he half suspected. A man, a young man who was a complete stranger to him, was there. Fortunately his back was towards him. He was working at feverish speed, cutting with a knife a small circle out of the wall paper; and this he did so easily that there was evidently a hollow behind it. This was proved when an instant later the man impatiently ripped aside the paper to disclose a piece of apparatus, rather like the plunger of a fire extinguisher. With a gasp of satisfaction he thrust the knife into his pocket and reached for the plun
ger.
Now all this had happened in two seconds of time, but it was plenty long enough to give Cub an idea of what was going on. He had not stood still. He had the man covered, and consequently had ample reason to suppose that he had the situation under control. His voice cut across the room like the lash of a whip. "Don't move. Get your hands up!"
At the sound the man started violently and looked over his shoulder. He saw Cub at once, of course, but his reactions were not in the least what Cub expected. Instead of being nonplussed, or reaching for a weapon, he let out a yell of triumph, and before Cub could pull trigger, with a swift jerk he thrust the plunger home.
Cub's pistol spat, and although the bullet found its mark it was too late to prevent the movement. What had happened, just what the Wolf had done, he did not know, but the unmistakable triumph in the man's voice boded trouble, if nothing worse. Indeed, the expression of triumphant success still frozen on the Wolf's face as he slid slowly down the wall to collapse in a heap on the floor, terrified him. There was something almost inhuman about it.
A flying leap took him across the room. He flung open the opposite door to come face to face with the others, looking startled, on their way to ascertain the reason for the shot.
"Get out!" shouted Cub. "Don't ask questions—get out!"
Without further explanation he tore through the building, out of the back door and down the alley as fast as his legs would take him. Not until he reached what he considered a safe distance did he pull up and turn, to see the others coming along with expressions of bewilderment on their faces. The two official searchers followed slowly.
"Run!" yelled Cub.
"What's all this about?" snapped Gimlet.
Feeling rather foolish as nothing had happened, Cub pointed at the chapel. "There's a Wolf in there."
Gimlet stopped. "Then what—?" he began. He got no further. A sheet of flame and smoke leapt skyward, and an instant later they were all flung to the ground by a tremendous explosion and a wave of blast that lifted them off their feet.
04 Gimlet Mops Up Page 11
