‘I have pledged myself to recover them for France. You will save time and trouble by handing them over.’
‘Ah! So there is now an entente cordiale between the secret services of France and Britain. That is most interesting. My friend, if you suspect that those papers are in this house, I am afraid you will have to search for them. Shall I sit by, and tell you whether you are hot or cold?’
Wallace turned to Brien.
‘Put on all the lights, Bill,’ he directed, ‘and search this bedroom and the adjoining apartment. I don’t think the documents will be far away.’
He was watching Sir Peter narrowly as he spoke without appearing to do so. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the old man subconsciously touch a certain portion of his anatomy. At once Wallace was on him, had called his colleague to his assistance. For a few moments there was a violent tumult in the bed; then Wallace and Brien rose. In the former’s hand was a thin silken belt, which, with its double folds, really consisted of a long, strongly made pocket. Wallace had torn it from its position round Sir Peter’s waist under his pyjama jacket, having guessed from the latter’s involuntary movement where the precious papers were. He extracted them now, and examined them with a quiet air of triumph. Sir Peter, his torn jacket hanging in silken ribbons from his body, lay back on his pillows as though exhausted.
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘The Affair is Finished’
Sir Leonard quickly satisfied himself that the documents he was holding were in truth those so badly wanted by the French government. He put them away into an inside pocket of his coat, and contemplated the recumbent financier.
‘It is a pity you resisted,’ he commented. ‘After all the result was the same, and, if there is one thing I hate, it is having to use force on people against whom I have no personal animosity.’
Sir Peter opened his eyes, and looked at the speaker.
‘So you have no personal animosity against me?’ he remarked.
‘None. Why should I have?’
‘I am glad of that, because, strangely enough, though you are the first man who has ever frustrated a scheme of mine, I feel no ill-will towards you. In the past, if anyone dared to attempt to thwart me, he was made to regret it – oh, yes; regret it very much! In the present case, for the first time in my life, I feel inclined to admit that I am beaten. I have little desire to ruin you, Sir Leonard. Perhaps it is because I am growing old, and am beginning to realise the futility of vengeance.’
The Chief of the Secret Service smiled.
‘Do you think you could ruin me if you wished?’ he asked.
‘But of course. You must know yourself that I could. Are you forgetting the political strings I can pull? Why, my friend, I could bring down your government if I desired. Ruining an individual, even though he possesses the power of Sir Leonard Wallace, would hardly be a more difficult operation.’
‘Why this sudden boastfulness? Allow me to remind you, Sir Peter, that you are my prisoner.’
‘Do you mean to say’ – the old man sat up in bed – ‘that you still persist in believing that you can make me a common captive, and hand me over to be dealt with by the law like any malefactor?’
‘Why not? If you offend, you are subject to punishment as well as any other man. Why should you be exempt?’
‘Because of my power; because of my money! My dear sir, the government would not dare to prosecute me. Inform the country that I am to be tried, and what would happen?’ He laughed softly. ‘Take my advice, Sir Leonard, and do not attempt impossibilities. You have won; you have broken up the organisation I formed, recovered the secrets I schemed for, in one case which I obtained myself – I refer to those documents in your pocket, which cost me a lot of money and all my persuasive powers. What more can you want? What good can it do you to place me in the very humiliating position of a man on trial for felony?’
‘It will do me no good,’ returned Wallace doggedly, ‘but I have my duty to do.’
‘Bah! Is it your duty to throw the world into a state of chaos? Listen, my friend! If you dared apprehend me, tomorrow, or rather today, there would come a state of confusion such as Europe and America have seldom seen. It is not boasting to remind you that I wield tremendous influence in the affairs of the world both financial and political. I am all-powerful, and you know it well. Arrest me, and markets will crash, securities will come tumbling down, governments will fall. Sir Leonard, I must not be touched. Surely you yourself realise all this?’
Wallace nodded. His face was grim and stern.
‘Yes; I realise it,’ he returned. ‘Nevertheless I repeat once more: you are my prisoner. What is done with you after I hand you over to Scotland Yard is not my affair. My duty concludes when I place before the government the proofs that will convict you.’
Sir Peter stared at him a trifle wildly. There was a tense pause of a few moments’ duration; then:
‘Do you think the government would put me on trial?’ came almost in a sneer.
‘There would be no alternative. But why argue about it? Will you be kind enough to rise now, and dress? I will send for your valet, if you wish.’
Again the financier’s eyes showed perturbation. Little beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead.
‘Never have I met a man so obdurate,’ he confessed. ‘Listen,’ he leant forward: ‘I do not care so much that my arrest would throw the world into disorder. It would be impossible, however, for me to stand in the dock to be tried by a judge and a jury, the cynosure of curious, sensation-seeking eyes – I who up to now have been the greatest, most powerful force in Europe and America. A position of such humiliation is not possible for me. There must be a way to avoid that, even for a man of your intractable sense of what you call duty.’
Sir Leonard’s face hardened.
‘You are merely thinking of yourself,’ he accused.
‘Have you no thought for the thousands who might be ruined by your fate?’
‘Have you?’ countered the other sharply. ‘You would be the guilty one, not I. During the years that have passed there have been two or three cases of world-known financiers coming to grief. You remember well what the result was; the misery, the suffering, the distress that afflicted so many people. And what power had those men when compared with mine? Where their ruin affected thousands, mine would affect millions. Think of that, Sir Leonard, and ponder on it.’
‘I have thought about it, and I have sought for a way out, not for your sake, for the sake of others, but my duty has remained perfectly clear. The government, as I have already said, will have to decide, when I put all the facts before it. There is another thing,’ he added, ‘of which you appear to have lost sight. Ictinos will be placed on his trial. Do you imagine, for one moment, that he will keep silent about your part in his activities?’
Sir Peter actually smiled.
‘He will never mention my name,’ he declared with confidence.
‘A man on trial for his life, apart from the other things, and such a man as Ictinos, would not hesitate.’
‘You are wrong,’ persisted the other. ‘He will never speak.’
Wallace shrugged his shoulders.
‘There are other considerations as well,’ he remarked. ‘If, by some chance, the British government declined to prosecute, there are other nations who would; France, for instance.’
‘France would never dare; too many French affairs are in my hands. Besides, my friend, the man from whom I obtained those documents, which you have taken from me, holds a position in the French government which is almost unassailable.’
‘Who is he?’
The financier laughed softly.
‘Do you think I would tell? You would like to hand on the information to Monsieur Damien no doubt.’
‘I certainly should.’
Sir Peter sat slowly nodding his head.
‘I understand now,’ he commented, without troubling to state what it was he understood. ‘It must be a curse to be so outrageously honest as you, Sir Leon
ard.’
‘We are wasting time,’ retorted the other brusquely. ‘Come on; get up!’
‘I decline to do so. It is not my hour for rising.’
‘Then we shall have to make you—’
‘Be reasonable, my friend! Let me make one more appeal to you. Providing you leave my name out of this affair, take what you have got, and go, I will pay to you and your friend there one million pounds. Do you agree?’
‘You are now becoming senile,’ retorted Wallace curtly. ‘Get up!’
He took hold of the financier’s arm. The latter sighed, and stepped to the floor.
‘I was afraid bribery would not work,’ he confessed. ‘Nothing, not even a million pounds, can shake that probity of yours apparently. I will dress myself. It would be degrading to have a valet present under such circumstances.’
He walked towards the dressing room followed by Brien, who was obeying a significant nod from Sir Leonard. For a moment the latter felt like sinking into a chair. He was weary, not so much physically as mentally, the realisation of the responsibility he was taking, in unmasking Sir Peter, having contributed mostly to that condition. But squaring his shoulders he shook off the lethargy, and commenced a search of the room. In ten minutes Sir Peter returned, accompanied by the watchful Brien. He was clothed in a lounge suit, but had not troubled to brush his hair or comb his beard, which looked more unkempt than ever. Walking to the bed, he sat down.
‘I am dressed, as you see,’ he remarked. ‘What a pity you came here when you did. By ten o’clock I should have been on my way to the continent by air. I was foolish in thinking myself safe, when a man like you was on the track. Ah, well! It is over. I have had a good innings, and my life has been full and triumphant.’
A spasm of pain crossed his face. Wallace frowned a little. The man looked ill; his complexion was no longer ruddy, there was a greyness about it that held almost the suggestion of death.
‘Are you ill?’ he demanded, stepping forward.
‘I am dying,’ was the quiet reply. ‘When dressing I swallowed a capsule of an obscure and very deadly poison which has no known antidote. Its name I prefer to keep to myself. Do not blame your friend, Sir Leonard. The box I took it from looked very much as though it might contain studs, and I acted in a manner to give the impression that I was indeed selecting and using one. I think I will lie down, if you have no objection.’
He sank back. Wallace lifted his legs on to the bed, and remained watching him. Brien, close by, stood with a face of tragedy. Both sensed instinctively that it was hopeless to endeavour to save Sir Peter’s life. It required no very great acumen to see that he was sinking rapidly; long before a doctor could be summoned, the deadly work would have been accomplished. The dying man opened his eyes, which had closed when he sank back on to the pillows, and smiled painfully.
‘I have gained a partial victory,’ he whispered. ‘There will be no humiliation for me in arrest and imprisonment now and, at the same time, you will still have to face the fact that you will have been the cause of throwing Europe and the United States into financial chaos.’ He paused for breath, a little foam appeared on his ashen lips. ‘Still I bear no ill-will,’ he went on. ‘I have – chosen this way – it is best.’
A groan broke from him, his body writhed convulsively for some minutes; then lay still. Sir Leonard turned away, and dabbed his forehead with a pocket handkerchief. Both he and Brien were nearly as pale as the man lying dead on the bed.
‘I am sorry, Leonard,’ murmured the latter.
Wallace forced a smile.
‘You weren’t to know,’ he replied. ‘It never occurred to me that he would do a thing like that. A force all his life, he meant to be a force at the end. Perhaps, after all, it’s the best thing that could have happened in the circumstances. We may be able to keep his name out of this affair, and save too big a crash in financial circles.’
‘But won’t his death cause that in any case?’
‘I think I see a way out.’ He turned, and looked once more at the still form on the bed. ‘To think,’ he murmured, ‘that a man of his power and wealth should devise and organise an enterprise of such a nature. It is inconceivable.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Forget he’s dead, Bill.’
Brien stared at him in astonishment.
‘What – what do you mean?’ he asked.
‘Forget he’s dead – at least for the present. I wonder if that instrument is connected up,’ he added, eyeing the bedside telephone. He lifted the receiver, and listened. ‘It is,’ he remarked in a tone of satisfaction.
First he rang up the Foreign Secretary’s house demanding that that gentleman be awakened, a proceeding that took some time. When the sleepy but interested voice of the statesman came over the wire, asking to know why he had been disturbed, Wallace refused to give any explanation, but insisted almost bluntly on his coming to Grosvenor Square at once, ringing off in the midst of the minister’s astonished questions. It took even longer to get through to the Home Secretary, who was distinctly brusque at being awakened at what he described as an ungodly hour of the morning. His presence was also demanded as soon as possible in Sir Peter Nikoleff’s residence, Wallace assuring him that there was vital reason for his attendance there.
‘Like a lot of old women with their questions,’ he commented somewhat unreasonably, as he replaced the receiver. ‘Come along, Bill; we’ll go downstairs.’
They left the room, taking care to lock all doors giving access to it, and pocketing the keys. They found Ictinos sitting practically as they had left him, his head sunk forward on his breast; the sailor looked up at their entrance and scowled; the footman eyed them fearfully. Shannon and Carter sat at their ease smoking, but very much on the alert. They rose as Wallace entered, and reported that the prisoners had been perfectly tractable. He nodded shortly, went up to the servant, and regarded him sternly.
‘Why didn’t you tell me your master was ill?’ he demanded to Brien’s astonishment.
‘Ill, sir!’ faltered the man. ‘He was not ill when I saw him last.’
‘Well, he is now. My friend and I went to interview him concerning this man,’ he indicated Ictinos, ‘and found him seriously – in fact critically ill. He will have to be moved to a nursing home.’
‘Shall I call his secretaries and valet, sir?’
‘Presently. At the moment you must stay where you are.’
‘But what have I done? I—’
‘Be quiet!’ came the curt order. Wallace turned to Carter. ‘Go and let the police officers in,’ he directed. ‘Bring them here.’
Suddenly he found the eyes of Ictinos fixed on him. The Greek had raised his head and, despite his unkempt and haggard appearance, looked very much on the alert. He had been very interested in Wallace’s conversation with the servant, the look on his face denoting that he was puzzled. A few minutes went by, and Carter entered the room followed by an inspector of police, a sergeant, and two constables. They all wore expressions of intense curiosity. Sir Leonard pointed to the Greek.
‘This man,’ he stated, ‘is Stanislaus Ictinos of Greek nationality. He was leader of a gang engaged in stealing and offering for sale official secrets. He escaped from me a few hours ago, and, I suppose, sought sanctuary here in the hope that Sir Peter Nikoleff, being of Greek birth, might help him. Apart from his offences under the Official Secrets Act, he has committed two murders, at least, and various other crimes. Take him away, inspector, and watch him carefully. He’s a slippery customer. I will communicate with the Commissioner later this morning. I am making no charge against this fellow at present,’ he indicated the seaman, ‘but keep him locked up until you hear from me.’
The inspector smiled with deep satisfaction.
‘Come along!’ he bade the two prisoners.
They rose to their feet, Ictinos with a scowl, the other sullenly. The sergeant and constables took possession of them, and walked them away. At the door Ictinos turned, and shook the fist of his uninjured arm at Wa
llace.
‘Curse you!’ he mumbled from amidst the bandages round his jaw. ‘Somebody will get you yet, and I hope it is soon, you devil.’
‘So you’ve recovered your voice,’ commented Wallace. ‘I was beginning to think Captain Shannon had knocked it out of you.’
Ictinos uttered an expletive which was pointed if ungentlemanly.
‘Come along,’ ordered the sergeant, giving him a shove. ‘Don’t be so playful!’
Wallace turned to speak to Brien, taking no further notice of the gorilla-man. The lights were now on in the hall, but the policemen did not stop to admire the palace-like splendour of that vast space. They had a job on hand, which they were bent on performing, and marched with their prisoners to the front door without glancing either to right or left. There, however, they halted with surprise, as a scream rang out behind them. From the gallery above a beautiful girl, whose face was strikingly pale, had observed their progress.
‘My father!’ she cried, tore down the stairs, ran lightly across the hall, and flung herself into the arms of Ictinos. ‘What have they done to you?’ she sobbed.
Sir Leonard and his companions heard the commotion, and hurried out of the room. They were just in time to witness the meeting of father and daughter. The embrace terminated abruptly. Thalia stepped back, and Ictinos, planting himself against the wall, an expression of triumph on his face, raised the revolver she had pushed into his hand.
‘If any man makes a movement,’ he boomed, ‘I will shoot to kill.’ The policemen stood astounded. Wallace smiled. ‘Ah!’ snarled the Greek, noticing the smile, ‘the so-great Wallace thinks I do not mean what I say. Thanks to my daughter Thalia, I will prove it.’
‘Oh! How are you going to do that?’ asked Sir Leonard in a tone of interest.
He actually began to advance across the hall. Ictinos watched his progress, at first a look almost of fascination in his wicked, slate-blue eyes, quickly changing to one of mingled delight and ferocity.
‘The nearer you come the surer the mark,’ he sneered. ‘You are unarmed, my friend Wallace. What can you do?’
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