“It’s a rotten position,” said George. “I’d hate to be in it myself. Up against someone who knows and who’s out for blood: line of retreat gone; and three bloody-minded wash-outs round your neck. If I were Forecast, I’m damned if I wouldn’t clear out.”
“And leave them to it?” said Mansel. “He daren’t. Those men are fools. Supposing they went to the Consul, to try and get home. No tale they could tell would wash. They’d find themselves in deep water almost at once: and then they’d let Forecast in. At least, that’s how I see it. I think he’s stuck good and proper, and I think he’ll call for help. And that was why I let the brutes go tonight. I was more than tempted to blot out Gulf and Boney as soon as they’d said their piece. It would have been perfectly safe. But Forecast and China would have panicked. They wouldn’t have called for help: they’d have faded away. But I want to know who’s behind this. I think the papers will give us a good idea. But we’ve earned our supper tonight, and we’ll eat that first.”
George looked very hard at Mansel.
“You know who’s behind this,” he said. “You always have. But you want to get them out here – under your hand.”
Mansel smiled.
“One of the truest things ever said is a jingle. This is how it runs. ‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive.’ In other words, criminals get involved. Say Gulf struck the fatal blow. But Forecast daren’t let him down, because he is involved. And someone bigger than Forecast won’t dare to let Forecast down, because he is involved. If we were to force the pace, all concerned would sit tight and do nothing but watch and pray. But so long as we leave a fair loophole – well, it’s human nature to try and save the game. Oh, and by the way, did either of you see the swine? I had a good look at Forecast, but I couldn’t swear to anyone else.”
“I saw Boney,” said I. “Gulf put the torch on his face. Clean-shaven and thin, with a nose a bit to one side.”
“Forecast is ruddy and has a jovial face. You wouldn’t think that, would you? But so it is. Bland to order, I’d say. Thick hair, and a hell of a jaw. A little bit under-hung. Quite decently dressed. Clean-shaven. Mouth turns up a little at either end. China, I imagine, has cheek-bones – hence his name. Oh, and what about his gift of tongues? I’d love to have heard him trying his Flemish on the hostess of Latchet’s inn. Which shows that Forecast is a man of no education. And yet he looks one. You find astonishing fish in the waters of crime.”
It was when we had finished our meal that we returned to the papers which we had found.
First we read through the letter from Worsted and Co.
HH Duke Saul of Varvic,
Schloss Varvic,
by Villach,
Austria.
YOUR HIGHNESS,
This letter is to introduce Mr Forecast, who has all our confidence.
We are anxious to trace the whereabouts of our client, Major J D Bowshot, who was lately in your neighbourhood, and the delivery of this letter will mean that Mr Forecast, who has the matter in hand, is in need of your Highness’ assistance.
Upon such assistance we feel that we may count, because of the interest in Major Bowshot’s welfare which your Highness has more than once expressed. If, however, your Highness should feel that it would be more convenient for us to raise the matter with our Foreign Office, your Highness has only to say so. In that case Mr Forecast will place himself at the disposal of the British Consul at Salzburg, who will, no doubt, communicate with your Highness direct.
We are,
Your Highness’ obedient servants,
WORSTED & CO.
“How’s that for blackmail?” said Mansel. “I told you Biretta and Cain were devilish hot.”
“But I don’t understand,” said I. “How can the Duke find the body – any better than anyone else?”
“Only we,” said Mansel, “know that he can’t. But that’s by the way. The last sentence of that letter is a definite threat. And now let’s look at the notes; for that’s what I think they are.”
The sheets were not signed, but they contained Forecast’s instructions, as they shall show. The typewriting was the same as that of the letter which I have already set out. Here and there they were altered in ink, and it was easy to see that the hand that had altered them was that of the man who had signed for Worsted and Co.
To Mr Forecast.
1. I see no reason why you should not stay at Latchet. It might become expedient for you to visit the inn; and action by a visitor is always more open to suspicion than action by a resident. But in no circumstances will you try and pump the landlord or anyone else. If your interpreter is any good, he should be able to pick up information – by letting the people talk. But he must show no interest in what they may say about B.
2. First, you will satisfy yourself that the accident in fact took place, and that it was fatal. Eye-witnesses can report a thing like that easily enough; but take them to the place where it happened, and tell them to reconstruct it, and you will see at once if they’re lying or not. This must be done after dark, and, except after dark, the spot must not be visited.
3. If you are not satisfied that a fatal accident took place, you will return at once alone, bringing the others’ passports with you.
4. If you are so satisfied, you will consider the possibility of:
(a) the body’s having been carried into the wood,
(b) and actually buried near by.
This may be the explanation. A passing motorist, reluctant to be held for enquiries, may have carried it into the wood. A gypsy may have found it, robbed it and then buried it to avoid the consequences of his crime.
Bearing these things in mind, you will make a careful search of the vicinity.
5. If and when you find the body:
(a) you will immediately wire us saying – BUY FUNDING LOAN,
(b) you will send the others home,
(c) yourself, you will return to the spot by daylight, officially discover the body, and then report this fact to the local police,
(d) as soon as the police allow you, you will follow the others home.
6. In the unlikely event of your being unable to discover the body, you will proceed to Schloss Varvic, present the accompanying letter and obtain an interview with the Duke.
7. The Duke will be difficult because he will be afraid of being involved. You will make it quite clear to him that only by helping you can he avoid being involved. He will try to avoid seeing that but he will see it in the end.
8. In all your dealings with him, never lose sight of the fact that what we must have is proof of B’s death. That is all you are after. But he must not realize this, for, if he were to, he would wash his hands of the matter. He must be made to believe that we are acting solely in his interests. In fact, we are using him.
9. The line you must take is this: Insist that B. was put out at his instance. Stick to that, no matter how much he protests. Emphasize that failure to find a body will have disastrous results – that any day now B.’s servants may grow uneasy because he does not return. If they do, they will approach us, as B.’s solicitors, when we shall be forced to take action. This action can only take the form of approaching the Foreign Office and telling them all we know. In which case, as B.’s solicitors, we should be compelled to involve him.
Point out that it is not a question of money, that, once a body is found, we should naturally expect him to fulfil his obligations, but that it is for his own security that the find must be made.
Insist that the matter is urgent, as it is. Any moment now the servants or someone may move. And if they should approach the authorities direct, the matter will pass beyond our control.
Put the wind right up him.
10. You will not wire to us (except, of course, as directed by paragraph 5), but in reporting you will use the ordinary post.
11. If we should have occasion to write or wire to you, we shall address you as WENSLEY, at 1645 Konigstrasse, Salzburg, which is an ac
commodation address. You had better call there once a week.
12. When you find the body, make sure that the tab is still there and is clearly legible. If it is not, put the attached envelope into one of the pockets of the coat. Any body which is to be found, must have this envelope in one of its pockets.
13. Also attached is a rough map, which will show you how to get from Latchet to Schloss Varvic.
14. You are to memorize the above instructions with great care. When you are satisfied that you have them by heart, you will place them in the enclosed, addressed envelope and return them to us, before leaving England, by registered post. The attached envelope and the map, you will of course retain.
When we came to the end of these instructions, each one of us drew a deep breath.
Then—
“Seeing’s believing,” said Mansel. “That’s all I can say. And someone dictated those words, and someone else typed them out. Takes all sorts to make a world, doesn’t it?”
“But fancy,” said I, “trusting Forecast to send them back.”
“Criminal folly,” smiled Mansel. “They should have taken them off him, before he left. The probable truth of it is that Forecast has never read them – or never read them right through. Criminals are incurably lazy: that’s why they so often fall down.”
There were three more documents.
One was the map referred to. This was a pencil sketch, which showed that Schloss Varvic stood twenty-two miles from Latchet and some twenty-nine from our farm. It was not more than fourteen from the spot on the Salzburg road.
One was a crumpled envelope, bearing a stamp which had been post-marked and addressed to Major Bowshot, The Manor House, Beehive, Somerset.
And one was the foolscap envelope, which Forecast ought to have used. This was addressed to Miss Bauchen, of Gallface Mansions in Maida Vale.
“Who would she be?” said I.
“I rather imagine,” said Mansel, “that she is a confidential clerk to Messrs Biretta and Cain. That of course is her private address. A hundred to one it was she who typed this stuff. And the letter to the Duke.”
“We’re learning quite a lot, aren’t we?” said George. “And what’s the betting that Forecast can’t remember his accommodation address? The one in Salzburg, I mean.”
“I should say,” said Mansel, “about five thousand to one. Which means we can have his letters without any fuss. There’s probably a wire there now, ordering him to return those instructions at once. And now let us think very hard. We’ve picked up a glorious hand, but I don’t want to play it wrong.”
“In other words,” said George, “we’ve got to try and decide what Forecast will do.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, I know what I should do. I should murder Gulf and Boney and China without delay. Then I should wire to Worsteds, telling them where to find the bodies and asking for another two envelopes. Then I should repair to the nearest monastery and take the veil under another name. After all, when it was safe, one could always pinch the abbot and get the sack.”
We all three laughed.
“That,” said Mansel, “is exactly what he’ll feel like doing; but I don’t think it’s what he will do. I think he’ll go to Schloss Varvic – as soon as his head will permit. Anyone will tell him the way, and it’s inconceivable that he has forgotten that name. He’ll miss those instructions, of course; but he knows that the Duke’s involved and roughly the line to take. And now he does want assistance. He’s in a hell of a jam – with his passport gone.”
“Will he write or wire to Worsteds?”
“I wish I knew. At a guess, I’d say that he wouldn’t, unless he draws blank at Varvic. Without his letter, the Duke may have him chucked out. In his position, I’d try and save the game. And only when I had failed, would I break the unpleasant tidings to Biretta and Cain. I mean to say, he’ll get no sympathy there. He has lost a paper which he should not have had to lose – a paper which lets them right in. Well, it isn’t much fun reporting progress like that. Oh, no. I’m sure he won’t do it, except in the last resort.”
“If you want my opinion,” said George, “he won’t do anything for thirty-six hours. What with his head and the darkness and having to sit in the car till the dawn comes up; what with Gulf and Boney and China all swearing blue that he must have had a bad dream – why, he’ll want about ten hours’ sleep, before he has control of his brain. And even then he may not search his dispatch-case. And not until he does that will he know that the murder is out.”
“I agree,” said Mansel. “I think we have plenty of time. But that we must use. Don’t forget what we’re trying to do. To get the big fellow out here. We know who he is – now. It’s either Biretta or Cain. And now let’s look at those passports, and then we’ll retire.”
Passport photographs are seldom pleasing, but those of Gulf and Boney were damning documents. They looked what they were – I cannot say better than that. China’s, too, was shocking; and if I had been a frontier official, I would have had them shadowed or, better still, turned them back. Forecast’s was harmless enough, for the man was smiling broadly and might have been full of goodwill.
It was whilst I was studying his face that Mansel gave a cry and suddenly plucked the passport out of my hand.
“Oh, I’m a fool,” he cried. “And the thing stood out a mile. Damn it, we’d better retire. If we find out very much more, we shan’t be able to sleep.”
I followed his pointing finger.
This was underlining Forecast’s full name.
James Belper Orion Forecast.
“Like men, like master,” said Mansel. “He shoved Shade under a train six weeks ago.”
3: The Trail of Oil
The next night was fine and clear, and all the winds were still. Quiet-running though it was, I heard the coup, coming for half a mile.
As it stole up to the crossroads, I stepped down out of the shadows and up to its door.
“Good evening,” I said at once. “If we are to talk, I’d rather we moved from here. If you would drive on–”
“You named this place,” said the girl.
“I know. Things have changed since then.” I pointed ahead. “Three miles on, you’ll see a lane on your right. Please take that, drive a hundred yards up it and wait for me.”
“But you’ll be ages, walking.”
“I shall be close behind you. I have a car.”
“Very well. But you lead the way.”
I hesitated. Then—
“All right. I’ve a servant with me. I shall drop him at the mouth of the lane: and he will stay there out of earshot, to see that we are not disturbed.”
“You didn’t mean me to know that you weren’t alone.”
“That’s quite true,” I said. “I thought it might make you uneasy to know we were two. And now will you please drive on? I’ll overtake and pass you before you come to the lane.”
Without waiting for her to reply, I made my way to the Lowland, a hundred yards off. Half way there, I turned to look back. The coupé was gone. A few minutes later I passed it, as I had said I would do. At the mouth of the lane I dropped Bell, and then I drove slowly up it for a hundred and fifty yards. As I got out of the Lowland, the coupé came to rest six paces away.
I stepped to the near side door.
“If I open this door,” said I, “you can stay where you are, and I’ll sit on the bank.”
“I’d rather get out,” she said. “We can sit on the step.”
“As you please,” said I; and, with that, I opened the door and handed her out.
She did not sit down at once, but stood peering at me.
“May I see what you look like?” she said.
I drew my torch and put it into her hand.
“Put the light on my face,” I said.
She switched on the light and did so.
Then she put out the light and gave me the torch.
“Thank you,” she said quietly: “and now let’s sit down.�
��
In silence we took our seats.
Then—
“From the look on your face,” she said, “I think you bring me bad news.”
“I’m afraid I do,” I said.
She began to tremble.
“Very bad news?”
“Major Bowshot has disappeared.”
“What d’you mean, ‘disappeared’?”
“He went for a walk one evening, and he – didn’t come back.”
I heard her catch her breath.
“When was this? How long ago?”
“It was on the first of July.”
“But that was the last time I saw him. D’you mean to say that since then…” Her hands went up to her temples. “Oh, my God! And today is the twenty-ninth. But has no one tried to find him? What has been done?”
“Have you reason to think,” said I, “that he had an enemy?”
She looked at me sharply, and a hand came down to her mouth.
“He – he might have had,” she whispered. “There is a man who – who has no cause to love him. But I…could have sworn that he didn’t know John was here.”
“Who knew he was here?” said I.
“Only his Bank, I think. He – he wanted to be very quiet.”
I braced myself.
“He…is…quiet…now,” I said slowly. “He’s gone to his long home… That is why I am here – to lay by the heels the blackguards that took his life.”
I dared not look at her, but I thought she would never move. With the tail of my eye, I could see that she was still sitting exactly as when I had seen her last – her head turned to me, and one hand up to her temples and one at her lips.
Then at last she turned away, and her head went down.
“I knew it,” she breathed. “I knew when I saw your face.”
Then her arm went across her eyes, and she burst into tears…
Her grief was terrible, and since I was shaken enough, I left her sitting there and passed to the back of the car. And there I paced to and fro, with the sweat running down my face. I felt that I should do something, but I did not know what to do. Indeed, as never before, I was out of my depth; for to make no move seemed inhuman, when there was a fellow-creature in such distress; yet no move which I could make could help such agony.
Eye For A Tooth Page 5
