Wallace and Brien gazed round them with an air of approval as Farrell and Shannon pushed them into the beautifully furnished apartment, that looked more like a lady’s boudoir than the saloon of a ship, even though that ship was a privately owned pleasure yacht. Costly tapestries and exquisite little etchings adorned the walls of fumed oak; silken curtains of a delicate tint of blue hung before the doors and portholes, a wonderful carpet of the same colour, into which their feet sank ankle deep, covered the floor; the chairs and settees were upholstered in silk brocade of a slightly deeper shade of blue; the small, exquisitely carved tables, of which there were four, were covered by brocaded cloths of the same colour as the curtains.
‘Very nice,’ observed Sir Leonard.
Ictinos frowned a little. It would have pleased him better, if this man, whom he believed to be in his power, had shown alarm, or at least a measure of consternation. He made a mental promise that, in a few minutes, he would give himself the satisfaction of witnessing the Englishman writhe in agony.
‘I am glad you like it,’ he replied mockingly.
He and the captain of the yacht sat down behind one of the tables. Without being invited, Wallace sank into another chair, his example being followed, a moment later, by Brien. Over them stood Farrell, and Shannon. Again Ictinos frowned.
‘You take things very coolly,’ he growled, ‘but I have no objection to your seeking comfort for the moment. Soon there will be no comfort, I promise you, Sir Leonard Wallace.’
‘What do you propose to do with us?’ asked Sir Leonard with an air of polite interest.
The Greek’s eyes flashed.
‘I am going to exact recompense from you,’ he declared emphatically, ‘for all you have caused me to lose; make you pay to the uttermost for the indignities you have put on me and the misfortunes you have caused me.’
‘Oh! And how are you going to do that?’
‘You will see.’ He turned to Brien. ‘I was not anticipating a triumph, which would bring into my power the redoubtable Major Brien’ – he pronounced it ‘Brion’ – ‘as well as the so-great Sir Leonard. So – great!’ he repeated with a deep laugh of contempt. ‘My friends, your fame is, after all, made like the egg-shell – it is not solid. You think you are so wonderful, yet you are deceived by a clever actor, who can make himself exactly like one of your own men. Look at him! Is his impersonation of your Shannon not perfect in every respect?’ He pointed to the powerful man standing behind Brien’s chair. ‘Even I, who have seen it before, marvel. To me it looks more complete than ever.’
‘It certainly is excellent,’ commented Sir Leonard, turning, and winking slightly at his assistant, who bit his underlip as though to suppress a smile. ‘In fact,’ went on Wallace, ‘he looks more like Shannon than anybody but Shannon could look.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Ictinos. ‘Levity will not help you to escape from the fate in store for you.’
‘Well, what is that fate?’ queried Sir Leonard.
‘Presently you will be taken on deck; you will be gagged so that you cannot make any outcry. The ship will sail. Then you will be hanged from a mast by your ankles. If, when dawn breaks, you are not dead, you will be hanged by your neck, so that you will then quickly expire.’
‘You brute! You inhuman brute!’ burst from between Brien’s clenched teeth.
‘As for you, Major, I will not be quite so severe – you will be stabbed, yes! A little pain, a little blood, and it is all over.’
As he spoke he was looking at his captives; he did not notice the expression on Shannon’s face, but the captain did, and it troubled him. He spoke rapidly to Ictinos in Greek. A threatening frown overshadowed the latter’s countenance, as he darted a look at his supposed underling.
‘Why is it you glare like that?’ he demanded. ‘Do you object to my programme?’
With an effort Shannon controlled himself.
‘I object to cruelty,’ he remarked quietly.
‘Ah, bah! Who are you to talk of cruelty? And why do you speak in that voice now? The play is over. You are no longer Shannon.’
‘He is Shannon,’ came in quiet tones from Sir Leonard. ‘It is you who have been deceived, Stanislaus Ictinos.’
He rose and, at the same time, slipped his hands from the cord that had apparently bound them. Brien immediately stood by his side, his own hands freed. For a few seconds Ictinos was too amazed to make a movement. Those slate-blue eyes of his, registering incredulity and horror, almost bulged from his head. The captain uttered a gasp, and shrank back in his chair, his face as pale as death. Then, with a mighty roar, Ictinos was on his feet, glaring murder at the men standing opposite him. But he dare make no move; he was outnumbered, and they now held revolvers in their hands; all, that is, except Farrell, who had shrunk back a little, watching the scene with fascinated eyes. A pregnant silence, almost overpowering in its deadliness, reigned in the saloon for several moments. Glancing at the skipper, Wallace decided that he would be no trouble. The man was a mere catspaw; was overwhelmed by the manner in which the tables had been turned. Ictinos looked Shannon up and down, and presently he spoke, the words coming from him as though they were being drawn out.
‘It is true?’ he asked. ‘You are not Hepburn?’
‘No,’ replied Shannon; ‘I am certainly not Hepburn. He and the other cut-throats you employed are ashore in the hands of the police.’
‘Then who was it came on board – with you?’
‘They were my men,’ Wallace told him. ‘The ship is, by this time, in their hands. It is no use thinking of resisting, Ictinos. You are my prisoner.’
Abruptly, with terrible ferocity, the Greek turned on Farrell.
‘You betrayed me!’ he roared. ‘It was all lies the story you told. Fool that I was to believe you. May you rot in the deepest hell, you – you—’ He used a word that would not be countenanced by the Patriarch or the Holy Synod of the Orthodox Greek Church.
‘Enough of this!’ snapped Sir Leonard. ‘Call Seymour down, Shannon, and let this fellow be handcuffed. It’ll be a police job. Hardly worth pulling him in under the Official Secrets Act, when there are at least two charges of murder, and several of incitement to murder, against him.’
Suddenly, with a despairing sort of effort, the yacht’s captain made a dash for the door near which he stood. Sir Leonard’s revolver spoke once and, with a groan, the sailor crashed to the floor.
‘Smashed knee cap,’ commented Wallace; ‘damn silly to try and get away like that.’
But abruptly the saloon was plunged into darkness. Ictinos had taken advantage of the diversion caused by the skipper’s action, the switches of the lights being close behind him. There was a choking cry, a heavy form collided with Wallace, sending him staggering across the saloon, and the pounding of racing feet could be heard receding in the distance. Sir Leonard groped his way across to the switches, and once again the room was brilliantly lit. He cast a hurried glance round. Close by lay the captain groaning with pain; on the other side Farrell was lying on his face, his legs drawn up as though in the throes of agony. The haft of a knife showed in the middle of his back. Apparently bent on vengeance, Ictinos had flung himself on Farrell as soon as the lights were out, stabbed him, and bolted along an alleyway to the left of the saloon. Shannon and Brien had gone after him.
Wallace bent down, and examined the ex-pugilist. The man was still breathing and, from the position of the wound, he judged there was just a chance that his life might be saved. Hurrying out of the saloon, he ran up the companion-way, and called. His men came to him immediately. They had heard the shot, and had been standing by in expectation of being required. Sir Leonard sent Hill down to attend to Farrell, with Cousins to assist him. Hill had qualified as a doctor, before patriotism, first class detective instincts, and a spirit of adventure had taken him into the Secret Service. Directly they had gone below, Wallace dispatched the other three to help search for Ictinos, he himself running along the alleyway that the Greek had tak
en.
He passed several cabins, glancing perfunctorily in each as he went by, but knowing full well that the gorilla-man would not have attempted to take refuge in any of them. Almost subconsciously he was aware that all the cabins and the alleyway were brilliantly illumined, and the reason why no light had been discernible from the shore dawned on him. The whole of the yacht’s hull had been covered by canvas or, more probably, wooden casing. He resolved to investigate later on. At the end of the passage he came to a small smoking room on the far side of which was a companion-way. He ascended this, emerging on deck close to the stern. There he paused a moment, wondering which way to turn. As he stood hesitant Seymour dashed up.
‘He’s on the bridge, sir,’ he cried. ‘Captain Shannon and Major Brien have got him.’
His statement turned out to be somewhat premature. They ran towards the bridge, and quickly caught sight of three forms struggling desperately on the starboard side. Suddenly one tore himself loose, and sprang into the sea. Wallace hurried to the rail, and glanced down. At first he could see nothing, but, after a few moments, caught sight of a head. Ictinos was swimming strongly for the little island. Shannon, too, had glimpsed him from the bridge and, throwing off his overcoat and shoes, dived in without hesitation after him. Sir Leonard fingered his revolver. To him Ictinos was an easy mark, even in the deceptive light of the moon, but he could not bring himself to shoot a defenceless man, though the latter had lost all right to considerations of humanity and mercy. Shannon was a powerful swimmer, and it was quickly evident that he was rapidly gaining on the Greek. Wallace ran to the gangway on the port side.
‘Brien, Seymour, Carter,’ he called, ‘come with me. Cartright stay on watch here.’
He tore down the gangway, followed by the three men. Tumbling into one of the boats, they cast off, Seymour and Carter taking the oars. Once round the yacht’s bows they headed for the island, making rapid progress. Nothing could be seen of the Greek and his pursuer for some minutes; then Brien caught sight of them close inshore, pointing them out to his companions. As they looked, the Greek was seen to scramble up the shelving bank, but Shannon was close behind him. They disappeared out of the moonlight into the darkness caused by the shadow of a group of trees. Three minutes later the boat touched bottom, and Wallace and his party sprang ashore. Seymour remained behind, while the others hastened towards the spot where Ictinos and Shannon had disappeared.
When they drew near, the laboured breathing of men locked together in mortal combat could be heard, and presently, from the shadows, rolled the two, wrestling desperately. The onlookers stood spellbound, watching fascinated, hardly daring to breathe. The combatants, each struggling frantically to get the upper hand, were never in the same position for more than a second or two at a time. There was something terrifying about the contest, one felt that both men had resolved to fight until one of them was dead. With the pale rays of the moon throwing a ghostly light upon the scene, a more uncanny spectacle could hardly be imagined. The great arms of the Greek, thrown round his opponent, were being exerted to the full in an effort to crush him. Shannon had one hand under his antagonist’s massive jaw, pushing his head back, the other was locked round his neck. Their legs were entwined in a hold that no ordinary means could have broken. Minutes went by without either one or the other gaining the slightest advantage, but the mighty Greek had found his match. Never before had he met any man who could stand up to him, but in Shannon he was opposed to an individual whose strength was a by-word in the circles in which he moved. Inch by inch the Greek’s head began to go back before that terrific pressure, until, at last, with a deep bellow of agony, he was forced to release his grip on his antagonist’s body. For a fraction of a second they lay as though taking a rest, but suddenly Ictinos managed to bend his knee, and drive it with sickening force into Shannon’s abdomen. With a suppressed groan the latter rolled over, momentarily winded. The Greek staggered to his feet, gathered himself together, and threw himself at the disabled man. Shannon, however, saw what was coming; succeeded, barely in time, in twisting aside, causing Ictinos to miss his grip. Then the Englishman rose slowly; braced himself. He was rapidly recovering from the blow in his stomach, and was doing his utmost to avoid the other until his strength returned. But Ictinos was up again now. For a moment or two they stood eyeing each other, the perspiration, despite the bitter cold of the night, pouring in streams down their faces.
Abruptly they were at it again, swaying in the moonlight like two great monsters of some other world, grotesque, terrifying, altogether barbarian, symbolic of man’s primeval passions in the raw. Ictinos had the longer reach, but on their feet Shannon had the advantage of height. Legs again entwined, their arms locked together like bands of steel, each strove for the mastery. But the Englishman had obtained a grip with his right arm on his antagonist’s left that was slowly but surely breaking it. Suddenly with a snap that startled the stillness of the night it went, and a howl that was more animal than human broke from the lips of the Greek. He tore himself away and, in that moment, Shannon caught him on the point of the jaw with a left hook that sent him staggering back several yards. Following up his advantage the Englishman drove in a straight right that would have felled an ox. Ictinos spun round, dropped in a crumpled heap, and lay still. Shannon sank slowly to the ground and sat, his head between his hands, drinking in the air in great gulps.
The spectators of that herculean combat ran forward to his assistance. He refused their aid, assuring them that he would be quite all right when he had regained his breath. They turned their attention to Ictinos, therefore, and found him quite unconscious. In addition to his left arm, Sir Leonard found that his jaw was fractured.
‘Hill will have quite a lot of doctoring to do tonight,’ he commented grimly, adding with a smile: ‘I’m glad you and I are on the same side, Shannon. Billy, do you think you and Carter can carry this fellow to the boat?’
They found it a pretty difficult task, but managed it, Wallace lending what assistance he could. By the time Ictinos had been deposited in the bottom of the boat, Shannon, apparently fully recovered, joined them. They clambered aboard, and rowed back to the yacht.
‘Whatever you say or do in the future, Hugh Shannon,’ remarked Carter, as they sped across the water, ‘even if it’s the most ridiculous statement or action possible to be imagined, I’ll agree with it. I’m taking no risks after what I’ve seen tonight.’
Shannon laughed.
‘At all events,’ he observed, ‘I think I’ve taught this Greek Johnny not to go playing about with my identity. I don’t like people impersonating me. I hope there’s somewhere on that boat where I can get dry – I’m wet and beastly cold.’
‘Didn’t you enjoy your dip?’ asked Carter with an air of innocence.
‘Didn’t notice it,’ was the retort.
Before going aboard they stopped for a little while to inspect the side of the yacht. As Sir Leonard had half guessed the hull was covered from stem to stern, from the deck to the waterline, with a casing of wood which had been clamped on in sections, each part fitting into the other, giving a totally different effect and shape to the whole boat. It was very ingenious, but whether it would be convincing in a close-up by daylight remained to be seen. The name, now showing on each side of the bows, was Canopus. He afterwards discovered that the top-hamper which had been noticeable from the shore and one of the funnels were constructed of canvas stiffened out with wood, and painted the same colour as the rest of the ship.
Cousins met them at the head of the gangway with the news that Farrell was in a precarious condition, but Hill thought he would recover, if he could be got to hospital reasonably quickly. Ictinos was carried below, where his jaw and arm were at once attended to by the Secret Service man who had once been a doctor. The saloon had been turned into an emergency dressing station, and with Farrell, the captain, and now Ictinos, Hill had his hands full. Seymour stayed to help him. Shannon found a dressing gown, which he donned, while his clothes wer
e drying in the engine room. He also discovered a cabinet packed with wines and spirits of all kinds, and helped himself to a stiff whisky. Wallace blessed the fact that under the bridge was a well-equipped wireless cabin. A message was sent to Tilbury asking for a strong force of river police, and giving instructions that the local hospital should be asked to prepare for the reception of a dangerously wounded man. That done Wallace, assisted by Brien, Cartright, Cousins, and Carter, commenced a systematic search of the yacht.
The saloon was the first to come in for examination, and not a square inch of space escaped the intensive scrutiny of those keen-eyed experts. They even took care to assure themselves that there were no secret hiding places under the deck or behind the bulkhead. But nothing of interest came to light, unless a considerable sum of money in banknotes of large denomination found in the safe, could be said to have impressed Sir Leonard, because he made a note of their numbers. Satisfied that they had overlooked nothing in the saloon, they went from cabin to cabin, spending a considerable time in one that had obviously been used by Ictinos. Even there they made no discovery of note, a file of documents in a locked attaché case only giving them information which was already known, at least, to Sir Leonard. In another cabin was found a large box full of grease paints, crêpe hair, nose paste, and all the other materials necessary for an actor’s make-up. There was also an extensive wardrobe suggesting that the owner had played many parts. In the bottom of the make-up box was a significant document in which the story of Hepburn’s crime was set down unblushingly in black and white, almost as though its author were intensely proud of the vile deed that had caused him to become a fugitive from justice. Wallace glanced it through, and handed it to Cousins with a grim smile.
Get Wallace! Page 23
