And then he was bound for Rouen, and I was out on the pavement, and Bell was bringing the Vane from her hiding-place – and a most insistent old lady was forcing upon me six pounds of good-looking potatoes and the change from a fifty-franc note.
The arrangements which I had made for Plato’s reception at Rouen seemed to me to warrant a much less pressing pursuit; so, though we were careful to keep the pace which the Swindon set, we stayed a good distance behind her and only came up rather closer when she was approaching cross roads. Though I cannot honestly say that Bell could drive as could Audrey, I very soon found that he knew every trick of the trade, and the way in which he used other traffic as cover from view showed me not only how much I had yet to learn, but that this was not the first time that he had shadowed a car. Indeed, it was very soon clear that until we came to Rouen, I should have little to do and could, so to speak, put up my feet, if I felt that way.
It seems a small thing now, but it seemed a great thing then that the only time that day when I could at all relax should have had to be spent by me away from Audrey, with whom I was so anxious to put things straight. It is easy enough to say that she ought to have understood – should not have taken it ill that I left her out of my counsels and made no more of her than I did of Rowley and Bell. But there was no reason at all why she should have understood: and it was very natural that she should have taken my change of behaviour ill. For more than a month, we had made ready together for what was happening now. Day after day we had roved this very country, and I had made her free of my hopes and fears. From dawn to dusk we had worked and consulted together, weighing this contingency, measuring that. And now when the day had come to put into practice the theories which she and I had composed, I treated her as a hired chauffeur – whose job was to take my orders and hold his tongue. Little wonder she felt aggrieved; and that though she did her duty as well as it could have been done, such treatment bore very hard on as proud a spirit as dwelled in a woman’s flesh. That I, who worshipped her footsteps, should have had no choice but to use her in this despiteful way was, when I had time to think, a very depressing thought: but the present realization that now, having sent her on, I had thrown away a fair chance of setting the matter to rights made me vow such vengeance on Plato and all his works as would, I think, have found favour in Satan’s exacting sight.
However, there was nothing to be done. So, with trembling fingers, I lighted a cigarette and began to picture the country which lay south and east of Rouen and to try to make up my mind whereabouts to drop our pilot, the taxi, and take up the running again.
Then the short thirty miles were over, and the suburbs of Rouen were there, and the city was hanging below us, astride of a bend of the Seine.
I was watching the Swindon slow up, to let a waggon go by before passing a furniture-van, when a taxi fell in behind her and a moment later the Lowland slipped out of a builder’s yard.
At once Bell closed on the Lowland, and so the procession took shape: but though all had started so well, when I saw the first of the traffic, the palms of my hands grew hot, for I knew in my heart that we only needed one check to turn our cake back into dough.
I will not set out the dance which the Swindon led us, because I shall always believe it was undesigned: but to follow a man who must not know you are there, who rates too high what sense of direction he has – and this, through the streets of a city which might have been built to mislead… I can only say this – that till then I had thought I could drive: but when I saw Audrey’s performance, let alone Bell’s, then I knew that handling a car may be raised from a game of skill to one of the finer arts.
Be that as it may, after thirteen dreadful minutes, which seemed more like forty-five, the Swindon entered the place which lies like a little apron before the Cathedral’s door. And there her chauffeur had ‘parked’ her before we could think, leaving us stuck in a street which was inconveniently narrow and overfull.
Enter the place we dared not, for the place was so very small that we should have been parading before our gentleman’s eyes: there was no room to turn round, and, because of the traffic behind, we could not retreat: yet Bell and Audrey escaped – by taking a turning which they had already gone by.
I cannot tell how they did it, for I had gone on to a café on the opposite side of the place, from where I could watch the Swindon – and her chauffeur, standing beside her, inspecting every car that came into his view. And I must confess that I had a very bad time, until Rowley pushed his way past me and murmured that all was well.
At once I paid for my liquor and followed him into a shop; and there he said that the taxi and both the cars were berthed in a little alley not more than a hundred yards off, and that if I would move to a café some thirty yards east, I should still be able to have the Swindon in view, yet could myself be seen from where he proposed to stand as connecting-file.
Two minutes later, these dispositions were made.
I was sitting beneath an awning, beside a small screen of privet, growing in tubs, surveying the busy place and watching the Swindon’s chauffeur tighten some nut: and Rowley, guide-book in hand, was standing upon a pavement some fifty yards off, apparently conning his surroundings, after the way of a tourist determined to call back Time.
Now Plato had disappeared before I had entered the place, but it seemed pretty clear that he was within the Cathedral – a somewhat disturbing thought. Indeed, had I dared, I would have entered myself, in case he was using the church as we had made bold to use it two days before. But there again we were held, because our force was so small; for to search such a shrine would have needed three or four men, and since there was more than one door, to leave my post would have been to stake on a shadow what little substance we had. For all that, when ten minutes had passed, but Plato had not reappeared, I began to get so uneasy that I could hardly sit still, for if indeed Barabbas were in the Cathedral, by sitting outside we were throwing victory away. And then, to my great relief, I saw Plato come out – and the moment I saw him I knew that my fears had been vain. The man was but playing a part, and playing it devilish well.
He was wearing clerical clothes – of course to publish the fact that he was a man of God: and there can, I think, be no doubt that his visit to the Cathedral was paid to adorn this truth, for he came forth as though refreshed, fairly breathing goodwill and wearing his cloth as though it were levee dress. He beamed upon English tourists, saluted and was saluted by cassocked priests; but he never looked at his chauffeur, standing beside the Swindon and smoking a cigarette. The latter watched his progress across the place, and a hand went up to his mouth, as though to conceal a smile: and I think he may be forgiven, for Plato’s performance was really masterly, and nobody could have doubted that he was a man who was used to devote his life to the glory of God and the health of his fellow men.
(Here perhaps I should say that, as I was later to learn, Plato was known among thieves as ‘The Kingdom of Heaven’ – a trenchant sobriquet. To his face he was always called ‘Kingdom,’ by such as were high enough up to be so familiar.)
He took a street which led to a decent hotel, and since it was now past twelve, I had little doubt that he was proposing to lunch. If I had had time, I would have summoned Rowley and sent him off in his wake, for I did not like the idea of the man’s being out of our ken: but the start which he had was too long, so I turned again to the Swindon and hoped for the best.
Could we have been sure that Plato had gone to his lunch, we could have taken things easy, if only for half an hour: but here the proof of the pudding was in the eating alone, and though I did leave my table to wash my hands, I was back within thirty seconds – in case of accidents.
Of such is the luck of the game, and we had no cause for complaint: but we had been up all night, while Plato had not, and it was extremely provoking to imagine him taking his ease, whilst we, who were far more weary, were waiting upon his pleasure, because we could do nothing else.
I should not have minded so much if I c
ould have been with Audrey, or at least have visited her, to tell her what was happening and see that she rested a little and broke her fast; for, when all was said and done, she was only a girl and had now been doing duty for more than twelve hours on end.
I remember I was picturing her, as I had seen her so often, making the pace, her steady gaze fixed upon the distance, her eager lips just parted, and her very beautiful profile as still as that of some statue set up in a hall, when Plato’s chauffeur looked round and then began to walk slowly across the place.
To my disquietude, he seemed to be making directly for where I sat, but, as he approached, he began to bear to the left, and two or three moments later he entered a newspaper shop. But though I was greatly relieved, my relief was short-lived, for when he came out, he looked again at the Swindon and then walked into my café and called for some beer.
While this was being brought, he looked about for a seat from which he could view his car and finally sat himself down at the very next table to mine, with his back to my face.
Whether he studied me, I have no idea, for I was staring over the privet, with my elbow upon the table and my chin in the palm of my hand, and all I had seen of him I had seen with the tail of my eye: but my feelings may be imagined, because the last thing I desired was that either he or his master should get to know me by sight.
Now my impulse was to be gone as soon as ever I could, but I had the sense to perceive that any withdrawal must be most casually done, for, because of his occupation, the fellow was on the alert and was bound to remark any movement which anyone close to him made: and if such a movement should seem in any way strange, he would measure the man who made it, for future reference.
So, without more ado, I proceeded to drink up my beer, of which, as luck would have it, my glass was three-quarters full. But I dared not drink it right off, so I drank it leisurely, looking about for a waiter whom I could ask for my bill.
Meanwhile my friend settled down to the paper which he had bought – a well-known English paper, which had been published that day.
He opened it wide, I remember, and scrutinized some item low down on a page: I rather think he was reading the racing news. But his action displayed to me the whole of the opposite page, and though I was not at all minded to read the paper just then, I could not help seeing the head-lines which graced that particular sheet.
And then the name ‘STOMER’ hit me between the eyes.
George’s Will had been proved, and its contents were out.
I think I shall see the head-line as long as I live.
FORTUNE FOR HUNTING CRONY.
And there was my photograph…a very excellent likeness, as I could see for myself.
7: The Toll of the Road
There was only one thing to be done, and I did it at once.
I poured what was left of my beer into the tub at my side, got to my feet somehow and walked uncertainly into the café itself.
My waiter was not to be seen, and so I went up to the bar and laid down a five-franc piece.
A man who was polishing glasses, lifted his head.
“Good morning, sir,” he said. “And what have you had?”
“By God, you’re English,” I said.
“That’s right, sir. I own this place.”
I leaned over the bar towards him and spoke very low.
“Look here,” I said. “Have you got a door at the back? There’s a wallah sitting out there, and I’d rather he didn’t see me before his time.”
The other raised his eyebrows.
“So?” he breathed. “Well, we get all sorts in this town. Come this way, sir,” he added, and made for a door on his right.
A moment later he let me into a street.
“I’m much obliged,” said I, and put out my hand.
The Englishman took it in his.
“That’s all right, sir,” he said. “That chauffeur bloke?”
“That’s him. But for God’s sake mind your step, or he’ll get ideas.”
“Not from me, sir, he won’t. Goodbye.”
A sudden thought entered my head.
“D’you own this house?” said I.
“I live upstairs, sir,” he said, “if that’s what you mean.”
“Will you lend me a first-floor window for half an hour? If you will, I’ll send one of my men to take my place.”
My friend was plainly impressed.
“Send him along, sir, and tell him to come this way.”
“In two minutes’ time,” said I. “Goodbye, again.”
Three minutes later, I was standing on the pavement, studying Rowley’s book, and Rowley was leaning against the jamb of a window, directly above the awning beneath which the chauffeur sat.
‘All’s well that ends well,’ says the proverb, and so perhaps it is. But, now that I had time to reflect, I found myself weak at the knees. It had been a very near thing. More. From this time on, neither his chauffeur nor Plato must see my face. So far they had not seen it – at least, that was my belief. But now they had been warned against me: and that, by Fortune herself. Behold the man to beware of – St Omer’s friend. One glimpse of me in the car would be more than enough to cancel all we had done and bring to nothing all we had hoped to do.
It was no good cursing our luck, but I must confess I felt sore that now on this day of all days we should be forced to carry this extra weight. As it was, the odds against us were heavy enough. Hitherto I had done what I could to keep Bell well in the background in case either Plato or his chauffeur knew him by sight: but from now on I myself, who was leading our enterprise, must take the greatest care on no account to be seen, for master and man alike would have my face fresh in their minds. Indeed, I can say with truth that I know exactly how those unfortunates feel who have a price on their heads, who see their photographs staring out of the public prints.
I had told Rowley that when he saw the chauffeur go back to his car, he was to come downstairs and sit by the privet hedge, and that when the Swindon moved off he must somehow rejoin the taxi, which would, of course, take the lead. It would have been very much simpler for me to do this, but now I dared not do it, because I feared to travel so close to the Swindon’s tail. Thanks to this decision, which may have been bad, we very nearly lost Plato for good and all, for soon after two o’clock, the Swindon swung out of her berth and turned to the left and then passed Rowley and me – with my face to the wall.
This meant that Rowley must cover a hundred yards – and the taxi wait while he did so, before taking up the pursuit: but though he was running like a madman, the Swindon was now well away, and, as she must turn any moment, I let out a roar for Audrey to take the lead.
She was by my side in a flash: but the Swindon was gone.
As I opened the door—
“The first to your right,” I cried, “as quick as you can. Hang on the corner, for the others to see where we go.”
With storming gears, the Lowland sped to the corner – just in time.
As Audrey slowed up, I saw the Swindon swing out and turn to the left.
“They’re coming,” said Audrey. “They see us.”
“Then let her go.”
We were down the street in a flash.
As we came up to the turning, the taxi appeared behind us some eighty or ninety yards off.
Right and left again…keeping the Swindon in sight by the skin of our teeth…and playing connecting-file at thirty-five miles an hour…
And then we were all on the quay, and the Swindon was travelling west.
“Paris or Chartres,” said I, and gave the signal to Rowley to pass us as soon as he could.
A moment later the taxi raved on its way, and I sank back in my corner and breathed again.
“These towns,” I said. “Never mind. I’m so glad to be with you again. You did have some lunch, didn’t you?”
“I did very well,” said Audrey. “And you, St John?”
“You are sweet, aren’t you?” said I.
“I did not – by the grace of God. You can pour beer into a tub, but you can’t get rid of an omelet as easy as that.”
“What ever d’you mean?”
I told her what had occurred.
“Dear God,” said Audrey. And then, “I’ll try and make up.”
Before I could ask what she meant, the Swindon switched to the right – for Pont de l’Arche.
We were out of the city now and I told her to put on her lights.
“Just for a moment, my lady. That’s the signal to Rowley to be ready to drop the pilot and pay him off.”
The street we were in was turning into a road, and half a mile ahead I saw a convenient bend.
“As the Swindon rounds that bend, I want you to touch your horn. And when the taxi pulls up, please stop alongside.”
“Don’t say ‘please’ any more, my dear. It makes me feel so ashamed, and – I’m all right now.”
As she spoke, she put out her left hand, and I caught it in mine and kissed it and let it go.
“Now?” said Audrey.
“Yes – now.”
The moment she touched her horn, the taxi pulled in, and as it came to a standstill, we ran alongside.
Rowley was out in the road, with a note in his hand.
“Listen,” I cried. “We’re going to pass the Swindon any time now. But you are to stay behind and take no notice of us.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Put her along, my darling. You heard what I said.”
As the Lowland leapt forward—
“You see,” I said, “ it’s like this. I’m almost sure he’s making for Pont de l’Arche. And that is a danger spot. A long bridge over the river…in and out of the town…and slap up to four cross-roads about twice life-size. Well, that’s quite bad enough, for you’ve got to be right on his tail to be certain which way he goes. But say that he takes the Chartres road – as I have a feeling he will. That is a punishing hill – a punishing hill, dead straight for a couple of miles or more: and a man in a car that climbs it can see those cross roads below him until he is out of sight. But we can’t wait until then, for we can’t give him three minutes’ start – in country we hardly know.”
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