Get Wallace!

by Alexander Wilson

  ‘Allow me to introduce you,’ came in Sir Peter’s quiet tones. ‘Mr and Miss Ictinos – Sir Leonard Wallace.’ Sir Leonard shook hands with the man, bowed to the girl who dropped him a graceful curtsy. ‘Sir Leonard was of the impression that one of his assistants had met you,’ went on Sir Peter, ‘but I hardly see how that could be possible.’

  ‘I also have seen the people of whom I spoke,’ remarked Wallace. ‘Did I not convey that to your mind?’

  Sir Peter raised his eyebrows.

  ‘No,’ he replied; ‘I understood from what you said that only your assistant had met them. This lady and gentleman are not they?’

  Wallace smiled, and shook his head.

  ‘Not at all,’ he demurred. ‘My – er – friends were certainly of the same name, but there the resemblance ends.’

  The man laughed, displaying a row of white, even teeth.

  ‘In Greece,’ he remarked, speaking the English language with difficulty, ‘the name Ictinos are not rare, but your friends would not the first names have the same. My first name Stanislaus, my daughter her first name Thalia.’

  ‘The people of whom I am speaking,’ returned Wallace quietly, ‘had both their initial names and surname identical with yours.’

  ‘How extraordinary!’ exclaimed Sir Peter.

  ‘It is most strange,’ agreed the second Stanislaus Ictinos.

  Wallace and his host remained there talking for a few minutes, and they all partook of coffee together, after which the former declared that he must depart. Sir Peter accompanied him down the stairs, and took leave of him at the front door.

  ‘It is obvious that the people you told me about knew of my friends, and took their names for some reason of their own,’ remarked the financier, ‘or else you have been misinformed.’

  ‘I have not been misinformed,’ Wallace told him. ‘Although I have not actually spoken to them, I have been in close proximity to them, and know they are passing under those names.’

  ‘And you are certain they were going to the Electra?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘The whole business is very strange,’ commented Sir Peter, ‘but I cannot think that Senostris can be mixed up with them. It is beyond credence. I thought that Michael was sailing the Mediterranean with a party of friends, but your information rather suggests that the Electra is in England. If that is so, why don’t you pay a visit to her?’

  ‘That is exactly what I intend to do,’ Wallace assured him. ‘Goodbye, Sir Peter. I hope I haven’t caused you any inconvenience by a visit at this hour?’

  ‘Not at all,’ was the courteous reply. ‘I wish I could have been of some real assistance to you. By the way,’ he added, as Wallace was about to leave, ‘if you know that this scoundrel, who calls himself Stanislaus Ictinos, has committed a murder, why don’t you have him arrested?’

  ‘There is something I want from him, or from his partner, first,’ was the reply, spoken in a resolute voice.

  ‘I see,’ nodded Sir Peter. ‘You have my best wishes for your success.’

  As his car threaded its way through the traffic on the way back to Whitehall, Wallace sat back in his seat, and pondered the fresh problem that confronted him. He felt sure it was not merely a coincidence that the names of Sir Peter’s friends and those of the man and woman he had so recently seen in the house on the Isle of Sheppey were identical. The fellow whom Cousins called the gorilla-man, and his daughter, must have adopted the names for some reason of their own. Various conjectures occurred to him, but were not suggestive of a very satisfactory solution. He was still thinking deeply, when the car drew up outside headquarters, and Johnson had been standing holding open the door for some seconds before he rose from his seat, and alighted.

  He found that the examination of Farrell and the dwarf was still proceeding. Entering Major Brien’s room, he stood listening for some minutes, while his deputy and Cousins strove by every means in their power to get the dwarf to talk. But where before he had screamed with rage and hurled maledictions at his captors, he now stood sullen and silent, hanging his head, and looking the picture of dejection. He answered not a word to the patient questions put to him, whether they were in English or Greek; it was as though he did not hear. Brien cast a despairing eye in the direction of Sir Leonard, and the latter thereupon took a hand in the proceedings, but it was fruitless.

  ‘Take him away,’ directed Wallace at last. ‘Farrell can stay. I’ll send him along to you,’ he added to Inspector Graham, ‘when I have finished with him, or at any rate let you know what I’ve done with him.’

  ‘The CID are anxious to have him, sir,’ the police officer informed him.

  ‘Well, they’ll have to wait,’ retorted Wallace. ‘He’s my prisoner, and they can’t prefer any charges against him until I’ve finished with him. Give them my compliments, and tell them that.’

  Inspector Graham smiled.

  ‘Very well, sir. I’ll leave a couple of men outside in the corridor for him.’

  ‘You needn’t do that. I’ll see that he reaches you all right.’

  The inspector saluted, and retired, taking with him his men and Paul the dwarf. Wallace studied the sheet of paper on which Brien had jotted down the answers Farrell had given to his and Cousins’ questions. There was little there that was not already known to him, certainly nothing of great interest.

  ‘Have you kept anything back?’ asked Sir Leonard, eyeing the crook sternly.

  ‘Nothing, sir,’ replied the latter earnestly. ‘I’ve told everything I know.’

  ‘You have never been on the Electra or met the partner Ictinos speaks about?’

  ‘Never, sir.’

  ‘Haven’t you even heard his name?’

  ‘No, sir. The guv’nor always kept that a dead secret from all of us. Even Hepburn didn’t know it, and he knows a great deal.’

  ‘H’m!’ Sir Leonard took the list of men serving the Greek from his pocket, and held it before the other’s eyes. ‘These apparently,’ he said, ‘are the names of men in the organisation. It’s in English, so you can read it. There are eighteen names there, but apart from yours and those of Hepburn, Danson, Moropos and Ibsen, I have not heard of them. Where are they?’

  Farrell took the list, and studied it carefully. A scowl crossed his face as he noticed the details concerning the crimes, which were written after most of the names. A muttered oath escaped him.

  ‘These two,’ he pointed out, ‘are in Rome—’

  ‘Just a minute. Make a note of it, will you, Cousins?’ The little man drew up a sheet of paper, and commenced to write. ‘Go on, Farrell. Those are in Rome—’

  ‘These three are in Paris, these in Berlin, this one in Moscow, these two in Washington, I don’t know where this one is. Zinescu, the name without any crimes against it, is the dwarf, Paul. He was a sort of servant to the guv’nor. The other is in England.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘He was at Southampton yesterday. He is the fellow who had orders to shoot you when you came off the boat.’

  ‘Ah!’ exclaimed Sir Leonard softly, ‘so his name was Villinoff, was it? I shall remember that. It sounds more like the name of a Russian than a Maltese, Bill,’ he added.

  ‘He certainly looked like a Maltese,’ grunted Brien.

  ‘He’s a Bulgarian, sir,’ Farrell told them.

  ‘So we’re both wrong,’ commented Wallace. He looked through the list Cousins had made. ‘Quite an espionage system apparently,’ he remarked. ‘Italians in Italy, Frenchmen in France, Germans in Berlin, etcetera – England alone has a cosmopolitan crowd, probably because the headquarters of Ictinos are, or were, here.’

  ‘Whenever the guv’nor wanted a job done,’ volunteered Farrell, ‘Hepburn used to be sent to the country where it was to take place. The blokes on the spot would give him the low-down on routine, details of the safe to be cracked, and that sort of thing. Then Hepburn would spend a long time studying the fellow he was going to impersonate, learning all about his habits, his
walk, and getting near him to hear him speak. When he was sure he had studied all that was necessary, Danson would join him. Hepburn would make him up like some other official, and the job would be done.’

  ‘Very interesting,’ murmured Wallace. ‘I gathered Damson was the safe-breaker from the details of his crimes. He seems to be wanted for a lot, including the murder of a policeman who tried to arrest him. Hepburn must be a linguist to be able to carry out impersonations in so many countries.’

  ‘He speaks a hell of a lot of languages,’ was Farrell’s emphatic reply. ‘The guv’nor couldn’t do without him, and Hepburn knows it. That bloke seems to be able to do anything. Can’t think what he wanted to go and ruin his life for by croaking the husband of a girl he was sweet on.’

  A slight smile appeared on Wallace’s face. He studied the ex-pugilist carefully for some minutes; then, apparently making up his mind, he leant forward.

  ‘Would you like to earn the King’s pardon, Farrell?’ he asked.

  The man’s eyes opened wide, a look of hope began to dawn on his face.

  ‘Would I!’ he repeated. ‘Just give me the chance and see. I’d go straight for the rest of my life, and—’

  ‘Not so fast, my man; I’m not asking you for any promises regarding your future life. If you were pardoned, with the list of crimes against your name you have collected, and went wrong again, you’d be the biggest fool in Christendom, but that would be your pidgin, not mine. I’ll guarantee to obtain a pardon for you under certain conditions, and they won’t be easy. You’ll have to work jolly hard for it, and carry your life in your hands. What do you say?’

  ‘I’d do anything that gave me a chance to get clear,’ was the reply.

  ‘Well, tonight I want you to join your late companions on the Electra. I don’t care how you reach her; swim if you like. I’ll see that you are taken down to Rochester. Once on board, you can tell some tale about being captured with Paul and breaking away. Say you hid up all day today, and dare not get out to her until after dark. Of course you’ll be thoroughly pumped about Cousins and me, but I’ll put you wise about what you’re to say before you go. Once back with them, you will do your utmost to find out all their plans, discover where certain documents I badly want are, and keep me posted about all other developments. Do you agree?’

  Farrell’s face had paled as Sir Leonard spoke.

  ‘You mean you want me to turn stool pigeon?’ he said slowly.

  ‘Exactly; but I don’t see what there is to hesitate about, if you’re honest in your statement that you want to wipe out the past. You’ve been a traitor to your country, apart from your other crimes, and it’s the only way you can eradicate that stain. And it isn’t as though you are betraying your former comrades. We know who they are and enough about them already without wanting to make a collection of further charges to lay against them.’

  Farrell looked him in the eyes.

  ‘I’ll do it, sir,’ he declared.

  ‘Good. But remember; you’ll be taking a tremendous risk. You know as well as I that if Ictinos catches you spying, or suspects you in any way, your number will be up.’

  The ex-pugilist nodded.

  ‘Don’t I know it,’ he remarked grimly, ‘but I’ll chance that. You can be sure that I’ll be careful. And about that pardon, sir; you will get it for me, if I satisfy you?’

  ‘You can rely upon me,’ Wallace assured him. ‘I’ll see you again this evening, and give you all your instructions. Until then you’ll stay in this building; it will be safer than risking the possibility of being seen by somebody antagonistic to us. There is a room where we keep visitors like you, Farrell, but you’ll be given your meals, have papers to read, and generally be well looked after. You’ll find it much better than a cell at Scotland Yard. Take him down below, Cousins, will you?’

  When the two had departed, Major Brien looked rather dubiously at his friend.

  ‘You’re taking a big risk, aren’t you?’ he queried.

  Wallace shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he replied; ‘what harm will it do us if he does tell Ictinos that I’ve sent him. The fellow already knows we’re on his track, and Farrell cannot give him any information about us or our plans of any value.’

  ‘But between them they may set a trap.’

  ‘Then we’ll fall into it gracefully, Bill. Have you forgotten that you and I were not born yesterday? As a matter of fact, I believe Farrell is genuine in his desire to reform. The only thing I’m anxious about is that Ictinos may ferret out that he’s working for us, and have him murdered.’

  Stevenson, Wallace’s confidential clerk, knocked and entered the room.

  ‘A message for you, sir, from Rochester,’ he informed Sir Leonard. ‘The Electra sailed early this morning – destination unknown.’

  Brien looked dismayed, but Wallace did not show any particular concern.

  ‘That’s a nuisance,’ was his only comment.

  ‘There’s also a report from Mr Cartright, sir,’ added the clerk. ‘He and his assistants have searched the house on the Island of Sheppey thoroughly, including the grounds and the underground passage, and have found nothing whatever of importance.’

  ‘I thought they wouldn’t. Recall them to London, Stevenson; the police will be taking possession today.’

  The clerk departed noiselessly.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’ asked Brien.

  ‘You, my lad, will set to work to find out where the Electra is. That shouldn’t cause your locks to get any scantier. I am going to keep an appointment for Ictinos, which it is probable he will break.’

  ‘Keep an appointment for Ictinos! What the devil are you talking about?’

  ‘He was meeting the representative of the Russian government to discuss the purchase of the stolen plans today at three o’clock. As he no longer has those plans, and must realise that I have discovered the arrangement, the chances are he will not turn up. On the other hand, he may alter the meeting for some other place, for he still has something left to offer. Whether he does or not, I will visit the Russian emissary. And in order that I may not miss them, I will make arrangements for the gentleman to be closely shadowed from now on. His name is Moskevin, and he is staying at the Savoy.’

  ‘What about Farrell? He won’t be able to get on the Electra now.’

  ‘He might; you never can tell.’

  He left the room, and walked along the corridor to his own office.

  ‘I begin to see daylight,’ he murmured to himself. ‘It is quite possible, after all, that Ictinos will keep his appointment, though not in the same locality as was first arranged.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ictinos Meets Wallace Face-to-Face

  Back in his own room, Sir Leonard was engaged very busily for a considerable period. Most of the little buttons under the ledge of his desk were pressed at one time or another during the course of the next hour, bringing to him men from various departments to whom he gave careful instructions. He spoke several times on private telephone lines, once at great length. Two or three reference hooks, taken from the large number packed on the shelves, were carried to his desk, where he opened them and studied certain pages. He became so engrossed that, when calls from the Air Ministry and War Office were put through, and he discovered that they were merely from high but enthusiastic officials, who desired to congratulate and thank him for his success in preserving the secrets of the Masterson monoplane and Wentworth gun, he was abrupt, almost sharp, in his replies. Even when the Foreign Secretary himself spoke on the private line running direct between his room and Sir Leonard’s office, he listened impatiently, and rang off at the earliest possible moment. He had no desire to listen to a laudatory speech delivered by a statesman, who was noted for his command of the English language and little else. Ictinos and his organisation had been checkmated in the attempt to sell British military secrets and, as far as Wallace was concerned, that was the end of that part of the affair. But he had pledged his word to
Monsieur Damien to do his utmost to save France from the outrageous threat of blackmail overshadowing her. He was also determined to break up the organisation which was proving a menace to so many countries, and had promised himself a private settlement with Ictinos. He had no time or desire, therefore, to spend the morning receiving compliments.

  It was nearing one o’clock when he sent for the papers he had brought away from the house on the Isle of Sheppey. The copies of the plans of the Masterson monoplane and the Wentworth gun were placed in sealed packets, and sent by special messenger to be delivered into the hands respectively of the Air Marshal and Chief of Staff. From the remaining documents Wallace took several sheets of foolscap pinned neatly together, the remainder he sent back to be locked up. Rapidly he made copious notes from the pages before him in a small leather-bound book with a lock attached, putting it away in his own private safe when he had finished. The sheets of foolscap he folded, and placed in the inside pocket of his jacket. Brien entered the room as he was preparing to go.

  ‘I say, Leonard,’ he proclaimed, ‘there’s a deuced queer sequel to the sailing of the Electra.’

  ‘Oh, what’s that?’

  ‘She left Rochester without giving any destination, as you know. At nine she anchored off Gravesend, remaining there until eleven, when she sailed. Since then not a sign of her has been seen. She’s just disappeared.’

  Sir Leonard had been washing his hand. He came now from the little anteroom drying them, and whistling softly to himself.

  ‘That gives support to my suspicion,’ he observed.

  ‘What suspicion?’

  ‘Never mind now. It’s only very hazy at the moment.’

  ‘What can have become of the Electra? She can’t have sunk – report says that the storm has quite abated. And even if Ictinos and company had decided to scuttle her, something or somebody would have spotted her. You can’t sink ships in a busy place like the Thames without causing comment.’