by John Creasey
He paused. Palfrey listened intently for the next word, fascinated by this man’s calm confidence.
No one else spoke.
‘When I discovered that Gorringer was, in fact, disloyal and had killed my friends,’ continued Morne, ‘I took the appropriate action. In such a matter as this, ordinary standards and ordinary laws are of small significance. I know now that Gorringer was responsible for the earlier accidents to my daughter; that she believed that he was blackmailing me; that she stole the papers, which you afterwards found, in the hope of helping me; that she had confided a little in Halsted, who got in touch with you. These things, doubtless, puzzled you.’
‘Yes.’ The word seemed wrung from Palfrey.
‘Now one of the things which Gorringer did was to try to put pressure on Garth,’ went on Morne. ‘When I discovered that, I gave Garth sanctuary here. I was not aware, at the time, that I was harbouring traitors. I let it be known that Garth was engaged to Loretta, because it was a sufficient answer to all the questions which might be asked. I knew that I could rely on my daughter’s discretion, you see.’
Palfrey did not speak in the pause which ensued.
‘However, there was treachery,’ said Morne. ‘My nephew Gerald and his mother conspired together to work against me. They sent Garth away. Gerald, angered because I had refused to allow him to marry Loretta, became quite beside himself. He was responsible for the accident in the minstrel gallery. He was the man who nearly killed you in the gallery. All of these things he confessed only last night, a little while before he died. He pretended that he was trying to help Loretta; he used that as an excuse for his many journeys, for his interference, for his appeal to Bruce McDonald to help. Last night, loyal supporters of mine discovered the truth about him just before his death. They would have brought him back here alive had he not made difficulties. You also made difficulties, and the proper course was taken. You see, Palfrey, I am being very frank.’
‘Yes,’ Palfrey’s voice was hoarse.
‘Let me explain a little about the theatre at Bristol,’ said Morne. ‘It was used by those who worked for Gorringer. What Gorringer did not know was that for some time some of his workers were, in fact, in my employ. Those workers escaped from the river last night, after hearing Gerald’s confession, and since have reported to me everything that happened. The theatre itself was not used except as an entrance to the tunnels which led to the docks and which enabled some men to move secretly by night. Gorringer first discovered it, and preferred to use it at considerable trouble, because he wanted – wisely – to distract attention from this house and from the mines.’
Palfrey’s lips tightened.
Morne smiled serenely. ‘So the mines surprise you, Palfrey? They should not. Garth had been working in them for a long time.’
Palfrey did not answer. The dominant thought in his mind was that Morne did not realize that they were on the track of the mines. That mattered more than anything else. Carmichael and the others were working near there now, might even have found the secret entrance to Wenn Mine.
‘Do you or don’t you realize the significance of that?’ For the first time, Morne’s voice was sharp.
Palfrey said slowly: ‘No, not altogether. You talk as if you were the only person who held this knowledge. You are not. It is well known to the Government here and in America.’
Morne said: ‘I thought you would see more clearly than that, Palfrey. The United Nations – united!’ he added, scornfully, and suddenly there was fire in his voice and in his eyes. ‘Split asunder by dissension, by trivialities, standing by while half the world is ravaged by disease and starvation – what weaklings they are; what puny creatures guide them!’
Palfrey said, with a faint laugh in his voice: ‘Most people would rather trust the Great Powers than you, Morne.’
‘Do you understand, Palfrey, that you are completely in my power? I have been patient with you. I have encouraged you to stay here. I wanted, you see, a reliable messenger to take my information to the proper quarters, and I wished you to be that messenger. But I am not everlastingly patient –’
Palfrey said; ‘My patience isn’t inexhaustible, either.’
Morne said harshly: ‘You do not appreciate the seriousness of the situation. I will acquaint you with it. The trial explosion at sea two nights ago failed only in one thing; the power of one small unit was under-estimated; it was not intended to cause such damage. There are many other units in my possession. The work is complete. That is why I have prepared to leave this house. I shall go, with my staff, to a place where I shall not be easily found. A ship is waiting off Wenlock Cliff to take me tonight. Its cargo is already loaded. The mine where the experiments were carried out will be destroyed when I have left. This house wilt be destroyed. I shall cut myself off completely from my earlier associations. I must take no risks, Palfrey, and I shall take no risks.’
Palfrey said: ‘How many are you taking with you?’
‘As many men as I need,’ said Morne. He looked impatient. ‘If you are worried about the police who were here, and those friends, of course, you are worrying yourself unnecessarily. They have been taken to a place of safety, and they will return when I have left the country. You see. Palfrey, most of this part of the moor is mined. There are entrances in many unexpected places. Halsted found one.’ He laughed, and then went on more quickly. ‘I do not want to prolong this interview, Palfrey. I have no personal animosity against you or the police or anyone who has helped you. I wish them well. I want you to act as courier to Whitehall – keeping, you see, to my original plan. I have prepared a letter. You can take it tomorrow. Tonight you will spend beneath the house, and you will be freed in time to escape before it is destroyed.’
Palfrey said: ‘You know, I can’t understand you. Only a few days ago, I thought you were about to commit suicide.’
Morne said harshly: ‘That was after I had discovered that Gorringer had betrayed me. I thought he had won, but I was able to defeat him. If you are still interested in trifles, Palfrey, you may like to know that Gerald Markham poisoned me; he used nicotine; doubtless, the symptoms of my attack are now obvious to you.’
‘How long ago did you first start on this, Morne?’
‘Years ago,’ said Morne. His voice was low-pitched. ‘I shall succeed, Palfrey. Nothing must prevent it. You know the situation as I do. You know, in your heart, that the leaders of the nations today are not fit to lead. You know they cannot be trusted –’
‘I know nothing of the kind!’ snapped Palfrey.
Morne raised his hand.
Palfrey was thinking: ‘The mine and the ship; they must both be taken.’ How could anything be done quickly unless he or Bandigo or McDonald got away and told the story?
Morne said: ‘Do as I tell you, Palfrey. Go to the bookcase and through the wall.’
17: THE MINE
The armed men were standing behind Palfrey. The two guards were by the bookcase. Morne was pointing towards it. Bandigo and McDonald moved towards it as if they could not help themselves. But Palfrey continued to sit on the arm of the chair, trying to look unconcerned. Now he could think of nothing else but Cartwright’s police, who must surely be near at hand.
If they arrived in time, they might stop Morne from getting away. King Rufus! The sole arbiter of success or failure. The man who ruled over his staff as if indeed they were his subjects.
Get him away, and the rest would be easy; nothing would be done without him.
‘Palfrey!’
Palfrey sat still. ‘I’m not going,’ he said.
‘I do not want to use force, but –’
‘You hypocritical madman!’ said Palfrey, harshly. ‘You dare to say you don’t want to use force! You used it on Wenlock. You killed and maimed. You will kill and maim again! You started off with lofty ideals, and they turned your mind. You are no longer sane; you are the Devil incarnate, and I shall do nothing to help you. I shall not stir a finger. I shall stay here, dead or alive.’
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Morne said heavily: ‘Do as you are told. Palfrey; I shall have no more of this.’
‘I shall not move from this chair,’ said Palfrey.
The futility of it sickened him. Morne’s men would be watching; even if the message had got through to the police, their approach would be seen. It would take but a few seconds for Morne and his men to go behind that wall, leaving only the dead behind them, and the police would be as befogged as Palfrey had been when he had found the deserted house.
Morne said: ‘Carry him,’
He turned away. Two of the men from the gallery door approached Palfrey. He sat watching them. There were six men in the room besides himself and Bandigo and McDonald. The odds were hopeless; nothing he could do could help him now.
The two men moved quickly; one struck him across the head and another lifted his legs. They carried him swiftly through the gap beyond the bookcase, down a flight of stairs into a small, lighted room, with walls of dark stone. The others followed. They walked through a long, narrow tunnel until they came to a door which opened on to another small, well furnished room.
Markham and Rachel McDonald were sitting there.
‘You will wait here,’ said Morne.
He went out through another door. Guards stood outside the doors. Palfrey dropped into a chair, McDonald stood staring at his mother, and Bandigo stood quite still with his arms by his sides.
McDonald said in a cracked voice: ‘Mother, you – ’
Markham growled: ‘You may as well keep your mouth shut. She’s as mad as he is.’
She asked quietly. ‘Will you come with me, Bruce?’
‘No!’
‘You should,’ she said. There is no other wise course. Loretta will be with us.’
McDonald cried: ‘He can’t take her!’
‘He took her from the sanatorium today,’ said Rachel. ‘She was well enough to be moved with care. He might leave the house and all his possessions here, but not Loretta – you should know that. Why don’t you come, Bruce?’
McDonald did not answer.
Morne came back. Markham got up, scowling; he had only spoken once. Rachel McDonald rose from her chair and looked smilingly at her son. He returned her gaze, but did not speak. The servants went out,
Morne looked at Palfrey, and said: ‘There is a steel door on the other side of the door you can see leading to the house. It will open at six o’clock tomorrow morning. You may then leave, to take the message which you will find by your side. You will be wise to hurry, and to make sure that all human beings are away from Morne House and a radius of three miles – and a radius of three miles from Wenn Mine also. I shall be beyond pursuit, but radio messages will reach me.’
Palfrey did not speak.
Morne led the others out, and the door closed on the three men who remained. Bandigo got up at once and tried one door, then the other, in a futile gesture. He even spent some time examining the locks. McDonald stood in silence. Palfrey, glancing at his watch, realized that they would have to stay here for five hours before they were released; five hours in which the situation would get beyond repair; five hours while the ship made its course –
The ship could be stopped!
He felt a moment of wild elation, but that quickly faded. Morne would have left nothing unprepared. The obvious solution to the getaway was a submarine. It seemed ages since Hardy had told him that U-boats had been suspected of using Wenlock Bay.
He looked round the room. It seemed bare now, and lifeless. For some reason, he thought of Kyle. Why had they taken Kyle with them?
A door opened! It was the door through which Morne and the others had gone, the door leading towards Wenn Mine. Into the room stepped a sturdy old man whom Palfrey recognized; Ruegg, the man who had guided him across the moor. Ruegg closed the door behind him, softly.
‘Make no noise, gentlemen, please,’ he said. He smiled at McDonald and held something towards him. ‘Your mother asked me to give you this, Mr. Bruce.’
It was a key.
McDonald said in a hoarse voice: ‘I don’t understand –’
‘She asked me to tell you that she has sanity,’ said Ruegg, with a gentle smile. ‘The key will open the door into the house, and I am able to tell you how to move the steel door. There is not long at our disposal, gentlemen; the ship is due to leave in two hours’ time.’
It was a feverish moment. McDonald’s hand trembled as he inserted the key; Bandigo stood watching him impatiently, Ruegg was smiling. Palfrey was trying to make sense of this development. Rachel McDonald had realized that active opposition would be futile; she had chosen this way of making sure that the mad venture was stopped. They had to make sure that no time was lost now.
The door opened.
Palfrey said: ‘Ruegg, how long is the tunnel?’
‘About three miles, sir.’
‘Will they walk?’
‘Oh, no, sir, there are electric cars.’
‘Is there one this end?’
‘Not now, sir,’ said Ruegg. ‘The shafts are very difficult to negotiate, sir, especially for someone who does not know them. I think it would be wiser to work from the house.’
‘Not all of us,’ said Palfrey. ‘I’m going – ’
‘I’m coming with you!’ snapped McDonald.
Bandigo said reluctantly: ‘I suppose you’re right Sap.’
‘I think so. Get word to Carmichael and Trollop as soon as you can, explain the whole situation to Cartwright and ask him to telephone Brett. Ruegg, I would like you, to come with us, but you may have to find your way across the moors; it’s possible that there will be a guard on the roads. You do understand that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Ruegg.
‘How do we open the other door?’ asked Palfrey.
‘By the same key, sir.’ It opened easily, and Ruegg stepped forward and pressed a switch which opened the steel doors beyond. Palfrey was thinking: ‘Rachel McDonald. Thanks to Rachel McDonald.’ It was like a refrain in his mind.
‘Come on,’ exclaimed McDonald.
‘We’ll want torches,’ Palfrey said, ‘and some idea of the tricks of the tunnel.’
‘I will get the torches, sir,’ said Ruegg, ‘and, if you will come with me, I will explain as much as I can.’
Two tracks in the floor of the mine were hard from the frequent passing of the electric trucks. On either side of these tracks the earth was damp and loose. Rats scuttled out of the darkness, their eyes glowing pink in the beam of the torch.
Palfrey and McDonald walked steadily on.
Palfrey found it impossible to concentrate; his mind refused to obey him. Perhaps the darkness affected him. Perhaps those dark, scurrying shapes chilled his blood. Perhaps the drops of icy water that fell from the roof and fell on his face and hands numbed him. There was certainly something the matter.
For some minutes he had been aware of a soft, padding sound, like a footfall. It kept pace with him. He told himself that it was imagination. Or the echo of his own footsteps. But it was no good; the padding sound continued in his ears.
He whispered: ‘Go another few yards, Mac, and stop.’
‘Did you hear something?’ he asked.
‘I thought I did.’
‘So did I,’
‘Let’s go on,’ Palfrey said.
Immediately he started walking, the sound came again.
McDonald stopped suddenly, and Palfrey bumped into him. His heart raced.
The sound stopped.
McDonald said: ‘I’m devilishly cold.’
‘We might run a bit,’ said Palfrey.
They broke into a trot. It was difficult to make themselves move quickly at first. Palfrey was conscious of shambling along. Gradually he warmed up. It was better to be warm, but it did not take that dull noise out of his ears. He saw the beam of torch light disappearing into the distance, and knew that the tunnel ran straight for at least two hundred yards. ‘Quicker,’ he said. McDonald lengthened his stride, and Palfrey f
ound himself running well. But he could not quell his fear. The impulse to look round was now overwhelming.
He glanced back swiftly, but he saw nothing. Still the sounds were there, between their footsteps. They were running side by side and keeping pace. Sometimes water splashed up to their knees, once or twice they ran into a pool so deep that they were slowed down and the water splashed up into their faces. Palfrey was reminded of the moor, when he had ridden out with Ruegg; the creepy moor, with mist rising from the stagnant pools and the treacherous bog all about them. There could be no bog here, and there was no sense in believing that they were being followed, and yet that awful fear was deep within him.
Why?
McDonald said: ‘I suppose they can time the damned thing? ‘
He gasped the words out.
‘What thing?’ asked Palfrey.
‘The bomb.’
So that was it! That was the thought that held those awful fears, as different from anything he had ever experienced. They were running towards that ‘unit’. They were running towards and not away from the thing which had caused such damage in Wenlock, the thing which was allied to the terror that had struck Hiroshima. They were running towards it, and he wanted to run away.
He had to go on.
He managed to glance at his watch. They had been on the move for twenty minutes; it seemed much longer. They had covered a little over a mile, he thought; not very much more, because they had lost some time standing and listening. But at this rate they would reach the mine in less than an hour.
McDonald said; ‘Stop a moment.’
Palfrey obeyed. He saw why McDonald had wanted to stop; they were out of the narrow tunnel and running into another, wider one. The floor level of the wider tunnel was higher than that of the one along which they had been running. They stepped into it. The floor was much drier, and Palfrey laughed in sheer relief.
‘Do we go right or left?’
‘We follow the tracks.’
The tracks turned left. They walked along for a few yards, and then broke into a trot again. They were further apart now, and the floor was much harder – almost as if it had been cemented.
