Gale Warning

by Dornford Yates

  Mansel frowned.

  “I’ve told you already,” he said. “That letter’s our second string. If anything should go wrong, that letter will smash Barabbas and Plato, too.”

  “In fact, it’s their death-warrant?”

  “Hardly that,” said Mansel, “because it won’t cause their death. But Dartmoor after Midian will be a bit of a jar.”

  “Worse than death?” said Audrey.

  “To you or me,” said Mansel. “But that type of man is deeply attached to his skin. But between you and me I don’t think it will come to that.”

  “Because you mean to kill them…to kill those two men tonight?”

  “As they killed George,” said Mansel. “That’s the idea.”

  There was another silence.

  Then Audrey drew in her breath.

  “I ask for their lives,” she said.

  I started in spite of myself, but Chandos lay still as death and Mansel did no more than move his pipe to the other side of his mouth.

  Audrey continued quietly.

  “I know that two months ago I demanded their death – and behaved like a spoiled child, because you couldn’t say ‘yes.’ I haven’t changed, although you may think I have. Believe me or no, but if that letter there would send the two to the gallows, I give you my word I’d take it to London myself. But this – this Midian business is too cold-blooded for me. I mean, I’m not a fool. Because you’re ‘without the law,’ you cannot afford to give those two men a run. You are going to execute them – there’s no other word. And I know as well as you that you and Richard are going to make no mistake. There’s no reason why you should. The terrace will be in darkness, and they won’t dream that you’re there. So the terrace is really a shambles – although they don’t know that.

  “Now I won’t attempt to deny that if you like to play the butcher, that’s your affair. I’m quite sure you won’t enjoy it, because neither you or Richard are built that way. But I do not like playing the drover: and if you go through with this, that’s just what I shall have done. But for the help I gave John, we shouldn’t be here. I helped to follow the sheep up hill and down dale. Unknown to him, I made the most desperate efforts – to learn the way to the shambles, and then set the butchers on.

  “Now I don’t say that’ll haunt me for the rest of my life. In fact, I believe in rough justice – I always have. And I don’t want to spill any sob-stuff – I’ve none to spill. But this business is so cold-blooded that it gets me under the ribs. Barabbas has gone to Biarritz, to give the women a treat: and Plato’s lounging at Midian and going to have a nap after lunch. They’ve not the slightest idea that tonight they are going to be dead. You know it all right, of course. You’ve got everything cut and dried. You know when and how and where it is going to take place. But they have not been consulted upon these important points. Sheep are not consulted on matters like that.

  “Well, there you are. I know I’ve put it badly. It looks as if I’m asking for mercy for the blackguards who did George in. But I am too tough for that. I’d be glad to know they were dead – but not that they’d died like this. And that’s why I ask for their lives. No harm can come to me, for I shall be safe at Bayonne. And I don’t believe for one moment that harm will come to you, because you’re far too efficient to leave any hole unstopped in a case like this. But I do not want to subscribe to so cold-blooded an act. And that I shall have done, if you go to Midian tonight.”

  Mansel looked very grave.

  “Two months ago,” he said, “you asked to be allowed to come in. And when I said yes you should, you threw up your hat. You knew what our object was – to put Barabbas to death. We felt that he ought to die, because he had come from France on purpose to do George in. Don’t forget – there was no fair fight about that. George didn’t know that he was going to die. He meant to dine with John Bagot: he never meant to die on the open road. He never knew that he’d never see Peerless again. But Barabbas did. He’d got it all arranged: but he never consulted George. Well, that was pretty cold-blooded. Sheep, shambles and butcher…not very far from Bedford two months ago.”

  “I know,” said Audrey, “I know. The Mosaic law’s behind you. I can’t get away from that. But I have set eyes on Plato. More than once that day, I saw him well. And though we know he’s a blackguard, he looked so pleased with life. And he saw me – he must have. And he probably thought I looked young and fresh and dashing… But he never knew that all the time I was the drover, and he was the sheep… I was so proud of the part I’d played in this show. That night at Tours—”

  “My dear,” said Mansel, “whatever did you expect? Did you think I should call the man out?”

  “I don’t know what I expected. I suppose I thought that you’d lay for him – much as he lay for George, on the open road.”

  “And you wouldn’t have minded that?”

  “No,” said Audrey, “I wouldn’t. There mayn’t be very much in it, but that wouldn’t be so cold-blooded as what you’re proposing to do. I’ve only seen the place once, and I wish to God I’d never seen it at all. The moment I saw that terrace, I realized what I’d done. That is Barabbas’ own bailey in which he knows that he is perfectly safe. And so he’ll be off his guard. You know as well as I that, if you are waiting there, he won’t have the ghost of a chance.”

  “Do you want him to have a chance?”

  “I wouldn’t feel so bad if he did. I mean, even George had a chance.”

  “If he had,” said Chandos, “that wasn’t Barabbas’ fault.”

  “That may be. But he did. Five miles from Peerless his engine might have gone wrong. And then he’d have left the car and come on by train. But here the thing has been settled. It’s actually been rehearsed. And all you’re worried about is my alibi.”

  “Audrey,” said Mansel, “I see your point of view. But now I’ll show you another, and I want you to try and see it, because it’s ours.

  “Adventure has come my way – well, more than once in the past, and I’ve spent quite a lot of my time, to use that convenient phrase, without the law. And of Chandos, lying there, exactly the same can be said. On two or three occasions we’ve worked together for months on the selfsame job. And so we have learned rather more than the average man of the changes and chances of life which you must be prepared to encounter in matters like this. Our experience has made us careful, and it has taught us this – never to take a risk which you can avoid. One has to take so many which one cannot avoid, that to add only one to that number is not the way of a fool, but that of a suicide.

  “Now bearing that fact in mind, consider the present case.

  “We are all agreed that Barabbas is worthy of death: and every step we have taken since George’s death has been taken with the object of treating him as he deserves. But please remember this. Although you’ve compared him to one, Barabbas is not a sheep. If he knew that we’d run him to earth, he would have but one idea – to take us to hell with him. You see he’d have nothing to lose: and a man with his back to the wall and nothing to lose is an ugly customer: and when that man is Barabbas, he’s uglier still. And let me say here and now that I do not want to be killed. Neither does Chandos. And I can see no reason why Carson or Bell or Rowley should die at Barabbas’ hand. And so we propose to be careful – and to take no single risk which we can avoid.

  “Now supposing Midian had been impregnable. In that case we should have had to go round by some other way. We should, perhaps, have done what you wouldn’t have minded our doing – that is to say, lain in wait and got him while he was abroad. I quite think we should have done that. For obvious reasons, I haven’t worked it out; but all the preparation would have been easy enough. And when I say that, I mean there would have been no danger. To wait and watch is trying: but it is not dangerous. The danger would have come later on – at the actual moment of impact in other words, at the moment when Barabbas was put to death.

  “What is the difference between what we mean to do and what we should
have done, if we could not have climbed that cliff? The answer’s just twenty words long. In the first case, the approach was the danger: in the second, the danger would lie in the actual attack. That it’s all plain sailing now, 1 frankly admit: but I cannot believe that you have any idea of the risk which Chandos ran when he went into that water two nights ago. Those rapids are deep and rough and alive with rocks. The water is cold as ice and the current as strong and as wilful as any race. And though the moon had risen, the water was dark. He had a cord about him; but that was because we wanted to save his body, if he was drowned. It wasn’t the slightest use as long as he lived, for, once he had gone, we could neither see him nor hear him, and all we could do was to give him the rope he required. And for all we knew, you see, it might have been his corpse that was taking the strain. I should think that the odds against him were easily forty to one: but somebody had to take them, if we were to climb that cliff. And since, as you know, I’m very slightly lame – well, we felt that those two or three ounces might tip the scale. For all I know, they did… But the point is this – that we have faced great danger to gain our ends, and the danger is now behind us instead of in front. So when you call that terrace a shambles and say that, once we are up there, Barabbas won’t stand a chance, don’t forget the torrent that guards it and why we fastened a cord under Chandos’ arms.”

  Audrey was kneeling by Chandos, with one of his hands between hers.

  “I’m sorry, Richard,” she said. “I never meant to – to depreciate what you had done.”

  Chandos looked up and smiled.

  “My generous lady,” he said, “you don’t have to tell me that. But I am as anxious as Mansel that you should get things straight. You see, I know how you feel, for once – some years ago now – I was instrumental in bringing a man to death. I never meant to do that. He got in my way and I had to make him my prisoner – no matter why. Well, I brought him before my chief – the man who was running our show, the fairest, straightest man that I ever knew. He cross-examined my prisoner, who presently proved that he was not fit to live. And so he was hanged there and then, from the branch of an oak. I shall always see that tree for the rest of my life…

  “Well, that was cold-blooded enough. And I had brought it about. And though I never let on, I felt very badly about it, for quite a long time. And then I came to see that I had been no more than a cog in one of the wheels – the wheels of the mill called Justice, whose master we know as Fate.”

  Audrey withdrew her hand and sat back on her heels.

  “That’s very specious,” she said. “That doctrine, I mean. But I’ll bet that if you had dared, you would have pleaded with Jonah to spare his life.”

  “I couldn’t do that,” said Chandos. “The man himself had proved that he was unfit to live.”

  “As has Barabbas,” said Mansel. “We’ve a private grudge against him, because he caused George’s death: but – well, you’ve seen that letter I’ve written to Scotland Yard. And if you saw Number Four’s record, by God, it’d make you think. As you know, he is a receiver of stolen goods. But, as I have told you before, he uses his powerful position to propagate crime. He incites to robbery: and if the job entails murder, to murder, too. He says, “I want those gems: and I’ll tell you how to get them – and pay you twice as much as anyone else.” He doesn’t care who’s killed: he’s safe enough, sitting at Midian: thieves can come and go, but he can’t be touched. You know that three men died in the Blanche Mains show. Six weeks before that, two police were shot dead at Chester on one of his jobs. Last year eleven men died – policemen, servants or thieves, as the result of crime which Barabbas inspired… I’m not making this up, you know. I’ve seen the reports. And he really does inspire crime, for he knows that it’s worth his while to pay an exceptional price. He’ll pay four thousand pounds, where another fence will pay two. And so he gets exceptional service – with murder thrown in.”

  There was another silence – a very much longer one. And I think we all avoided each other’s eyes.

  At length Audrey lifted her head.

  “Give me Plato’s life,” she said. “I can’t have his death on my hands.”

  “No,” said Mansel. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

  “But he’s not so bad as Barabbas. He has to do as he’s told.”

  “He does as he’s told: but he does not have to do it. He does it, because it pays him – and pays him well.”

  “Give him away to the police, but spare his life.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s out of the question. We – can’t afford a witness of what will happen tonight.”

  “Jonah, listen,” said Audrey. “I’m not blackmailing you, because I will go to Bayonne whatever you say. And carry out every detail of what you wish me to do. But I have got some standing in this affair. In the first place, I was engaged to George. In the second place, at your request, I threw to the winds what reputation I have and pretended to be the mistress of a man that I hardly knew. In the third place, I worked very hard for more than a month, putting my heart into work which soon became very dull and which I firmly believed would prove unprofitable. Finally, I drove the Lowland from Dieppe to Tours: and though what credit there is must go to St John, if I had not played my part, the Swindon would have been lost.”

  “I’ll give you this,” said Mansel. “I know no woman and only very few men who would have been so faithful and done so well.”

  “Very well. That gives me some standing.”

  “No doubt about that,” said Mansel. “That’s why I have taken no step without telling you first.”

  “Very well. I have some standing – some right to be heard. So far I have asked you two favours: and you have refused them both. Well, now I’m going to ask you a third. I ask you to reconsider those two requests…to sleep on what I have said…and so to hold your hand for twenty-four hours. I won’t come here tomorrow. And so I shan’t know till later to what decision you came. But if you do decide to go through with this execution, at least I can always remember that, though I helped to kill them, I did obtain for them another twenty-four hours of the life which they may not deserve, but which they value so much.”

  Two minutes must have gone by before Mansel opened his mouth.

  Then he looked at Chandos.

  “What do you say?” he said.

  Chandos shrugged his shoulders.

  “I know just how she feels,” he said, “but the arguments against such a course are painfully clear. I can’t say that they’re actually fatal – I don’t think they are. But they’re rather compelling… Apart from Audrey’s feelings, there’s only, to my mind, one advantage which we should gain by delay. And that is that she and John can leave Castelly tomorrow, baggage and all – give notice tonight and leave tomorrow morning, in a perfectly regular way. If they say where they’re going – and go there, that is to say, to the Grand Hotel, Bayonne, and show up in Bayonne and Biarritz by day and night, they’ll be off the map of suspicion for good and all. I don’t think there’s very much in it, to tell the truth: but, as John pointed out a while back, their failure to return to Castelly on this particular night might breed investigation. No more than that, of course, for their alibi would be sound.”

  Audrey looked at Mansel.

  “You hear what he says,” she said. “Do as I ask – and make my skin safer still.”

  Mansel turned to me.

  “What do you think, John Bagot?”

  “As an armchair critic,” I said, “it’s easy for me to talk.”

  “Be fair to yourself,” said Mansel. “We’ve all had to stand aside. But I value your opinion: and that’s why I asked what you thought.”

  I moistened my lips.

  “I’m not going to give my opinion, because it would take too long. Armchair critics feel very strongly and fully about certain things. Instead, I will state one fact, which is perfectly true. I can’t support it at all. I mean, I can’t explain it. But here it is. I shall be greatly relieved to kno
w that Barabbas is dead.”

  Mansel regarded me keenly.

  “Have you anything to go on?” he said.

  “Nothing whatever,” said I. “And so – I leave it to you to fix the date of his death. I decline to believe you’ll consider sparing his life.”

  “That’s out of the question,” said Mansel. “All that we have to decide is which night he shall die.”

  “I’ve said enough,” said I. “I leave that to you.”

  “They both leave it to you,” said Audrey. “Do as I ask. I’ve begged you to send that letter and let them go. But you are all three against me, and so I suppose they must die. But give them the twenty-four hours. Give me the consolation that, though they will never know it, at least I added one day to the lives which I helped to take.”

  “I must think it over,” said Mansel, and, with that, he got to his feet and left us alone.

  Nearly an hour went by before he came back.

  He stood looking down at Audrey, while Audrey looked up.

  “You shall have your wish,” he said quietly, “if you will do exactly as William said.”

  “Thank you, Jonah,” said Audrey. “You know I’ll do that.”

  “Give notice tonight and leave for Bayonne tomorrow not later than ten o’clock.”

  “I promise.”

  “Spend the afternoon at Chiberta Club.”

  “I will.”

  “Dine with John at Biarritz and go on to the Casino – into the baccarat room.”

  “Which means we must show our passports. I understand.”

  “From there to one of the night-clubs, where you will dance till dawn.”

  “Very well.”

  “Then that,” said Mansel, “is that.” He took his seat by her side. “And now let’s forget the matter.” He dabbled his powerful hand in the baby rill. “Did William ever tell you how he and I taught Jenny to build a dam?”