‘I’ll go directly after tiffin, sir,’ said Muir, ‘if that is agreeable?’
‘Quite! Quite! So, if I were you, I’d rest until then.’
‘I’ll wait until the Commander-in-Chief has gone, Your Excellency. You may require me!’
‘No doubt I shall, but I’ll manage without you, unless you would prefer to wait?’
‘I would, sir.’
‘Very well, then.’
Sir Henry Muir went into an inner room, which he used as an office, and he was busily engaged with some work there, when he heard voices in the other apartment, and presently the Viceroy appeared at the connecting door.
‘You’d better come in, Muir,’ he said. ‘The Commander-in-Chief is here.’
Field-Marshal Sir Edward Willys was rather a small man with grey hair, bushy grey eyebrows, and a grey moustache. He had a hawk-like nose, fierce eyes, and a humorous mouth. Although small, he was as straight as a ramrod, and his whole air was of one used to command and expecting to be obeyed. His military record was a splendid one, and his achievements during the War were such that he now held one of the most important of military posts, at the comparatively early age of fifty.
He greeted Sir Henry with a smile.
‘By Jove!’ he said. ‘You seem to have got mixed up in a mysterious affair, Muir. But I hear you brought those plans through safely. I must congratulate you!’
‘Thanks, Sir Edward,’ said Muir, ‘but I failed to save Elliott from being murdered.’
‘Not your fault!’ said the Commander-in-Chief. He always spoke in a staccato manner, almost like a machine-gun in action. ‘Dastardly business!’ he went on. ‘I’d like to know who the assassins were.’
‘So would a good many of us,’ said the Viceroy. ‘The Russian Bolsheviks are behind them I’m afraid.’
Sir Edward snorted.
‘Nonsense!’ he said rudely. ‘An ordinary murder! Probably Elliott got somebody’s back up and so they, or he, removed him.’
‘I don’t agree with you, sir!’ said Muir. ‘I feel certain that whoever murdered Elliott was after the plans.’
‘Well, why didn’t they get them?’
Sir Henry shrugged his shoulders.
‘God knows.’
‘The Deputy Commissioner of Simla has the matter in hand,’ said the Viceroy, ‘and we must hope for results from him.’
The Commander-in-Chief nodded.
‘No doubt he’ll find the murderer,’ he said. ‘A cute fellow, Sanders … Well, shall we have a look at these plans?’
Lord Oundle went to the safe, opened it, and took out the case, which he laid on his desk before locking up the safe again. The Field-Marshal took the case into his hands and turned it over two or three times.
‘By Gad!’ he said, ‘Elliott sealed it enough. He seems to have had a pretty humour in sealing-wax, poor fellow.’
He handed it back to the Viceroy, who at once broke the seals and opened the case. Inside were three folded pieces of parchment. His Excellency spread them out on his desk, both Sir Edward Willys and Muir leaning over to see them. Then a great shout escaped from the soldier; Sir Henry staggered back as though he had been struck, and the Viceroy sank into his chair, his face the colour of chalk.
Each document was blank!
For some seconds the three men stared at each other in utter silence. The room seemed to have become ominously quiet; only the ticking of the great clock upon the mantelshelf could be heard and to Muir’s excited imagination it appeared to be repeating, ‘No plans! No plans!! No plans!!!’
At last the Commander-in-Chief shook himself as though pulling himself together after a dream.
‘Somebody has rifled your safe,’ he said sharply to Lord Oundle.
‘Impossible!’ replied the Viceroy huskily; ‘besides the seals were intact, as you know!’
‘Then the original case was stolen, and this one substituted for it. Muir, from the time you took the case from Elliott’s pocket until you handed it to His Excellency, did you let it out of your possession?’
‘No,’ replied Sir Henry. ‘It was buttoned inside the breast pocket of my coat, and I did not stop, except for a few minutes at Kalka when I told my bearer to go by train, and then I kept my hand over it all the time. Without the slightest doubt this is the case that I took from Elliott.’
‘Then the murderer must have robbed him when he killed him!’
‘Utterly impossible!’ exclaimed the Secretary, almost peevishly. ‘I tell you the light was only out for a couple of minutes, hardly time for the fellow to jump on the train, stab the Major, and jump off again, let alone rob him; and his clothes were not deranged in the slightest.’
Again there was silence. The Viceroy aimlessly looked inside the case and turned the papers over. Presently he spoke:
‘Perhaps Elliott was robbed, and this case substituted before he reached Simla,’ he said.
‘He wouldn’t have been assassinated then,’ said the Field-Marshal, ‘unless, as I said, the murder was some private vengeance.’
‘Oh, that’s inconceivable, ridiculous!’ exclaimed Sir Henry. He hit his forehead with his clenched fist in an agony of despair. ‘If only I could see light!’ he groaned.
‘I don’t think anything will help us now,’ said the Viceroy hopelessly. ‘The plans are probably well on their way to the frontier by this, if they haven’t already been taken across!’
The Commander-in-Chief hit the desk a blow with his hand.
‘They won’t get across if I can prevent it,’ he said. ‘I’m going to give orders for the whole frontier to be patrolled right down to Baluchistan, and have everyone searched who passes, even if I bring Afghanistan buzzing round our ears. Have I your sanction?’ he asked, turning somewhat belatedly to the Viceroy.
The latter nodded.
‘Then I’ll go and see about it at once.’
‘Supposing they try to carry the documents over by aeroplane?’ questioned Muir.
‘I’m glad you thought of that,’ said Sir Edward. ‘I’ll put the Air Force on the qui vive with orders to bring down any plane they see attempting to get across!’
‘Rather drastic, isn’t it?’ said Lord Oundle doubtfully.
‘Drastic ills require drastic remedies!’ replied the other sententiously. ‘Well, I’ll be off!’
‘Just a minute, sir,’ said Sir Henry. ‘This is all very well as far as it goes. But what if the stolen plans are not taken across the frontier at all?’
‘No doubt you’ll see to it that the police are put on the search,’ snapped the Commander-in-Chief. ‘That’s your pidgin, not mine!’
‘I’ve a great admiration for the police, and we shall see to it that they get busy at once,’ said the Viceroy, ‘but this seems to me to require a specialist in matters of this sort.’
‘But there isn’t a proper Intelligence Department out here, so the police will have to do the best they can!’
‘Those plans must be recovered, and the murderers brought to justice,’ said Sir Henry. Then suddenly his whole face lit up, and his eyes sparkled.
‘By Jove! The very man!’ he almost shouted.
The others looked at him questioningly.
‘Why not cable to the India Office, sir,’ he said to the Viceroy excitedly, ‘and ask them to send Sir Leonard Wallace. He’s a great friend of yours, too!’
‘That’s an idea!’ said His Excellency brightening considerably. He turned to the Commander-in-Chief.
‘You know him of course; he’s the head of the Intelligence Department and has done some remarkable work.’
‘Of course I know him; married old Kendal’s daughter and ferreted out that German submarine base in Dorset during the War – used to be in the Hussars!’
‘That’s the man!’ said Lord Oundle. ‘He is now head of the Intelligence Department, and has done some wonderfully clever work.’
Sir Edward looked exasperated.
‘I know all that,’ he said, ‘but every minute is preciou
s, and he is six thousand miles away!’
‘He can come over by air,’ said Muir quickly. ‘He’d be here in five or six days, perhaps not too late, and if anybody can get to the bottom of this business he can!’
‘Yes, he can fly over,’ said the Viceroy. ‘I think I’ll cable. What do you say, Willys?’
‘Do so by all means. Every effort must be made to recover those documents. And now I must not stay a moment longer – I’ve already lost a lot of precious time.’
He took up his topee, shook hands with the Viceroy, nodded to Muir, and walked out of the room with such a martial air that one could almost hear the clank of spurs!
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Inquest
The cablegram, a very lengthy one in code, was sent to the India Office soon after the Commander-in-Chief left the Lodge. It asked urgently that Sir Leonard Wallace should be sent to India by air, in order to unravel the mystery of the disappearance of very important plans. It further pleaded for haste and secrecy.
After the cablegram had been sent, Sir Henry Muir partook of an early tiffin and then set out again for Barog. He went back in the same car that had brought him to Delhi, but this time he had a driver with him, and he himself took his ease in the tonneau. There was no furious driving now, but no time was lost en route and it had just turned eight o’clock when the doctor’s house at Barog was reached.
The doctor was sitting on the veranda as Sir Henry drove up, and he looked very much surprised when he saw the Secretary.
‘I thought the car might turn up today,’ he said, ‘but I hardly expected you back so soon.’
‘No, I was not expecting it myself,’ replied Muir, ‘but Colonel Sanders seemed to desire my presence here as soon as possible, so I came back in the car which proved such a blessing last night.’
He reiterated his thanks for the loan of the Fiat and told the other something of his race to Delhi.
‘I think my average speed must have been over forty,’ he concluded, ‘and the car never jibbed once.’
‘She’s a good old bus,’ said the doctor, ‘I’m glad she served you so well.’
‘What is the news?’ asked Sir Henry. ‘I hardly dare hope that the murderer has been found.’
The doctor shook his head
‘I know very little of course,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think there is the slightest clue. Colonel Sanders has been very busy with two other men all day long, and from the expression on his face I should say that he is one of the most puzzled men in India at the present moment. He doesn’t say much, anyway!’
Muir smiled.
‘No, he’s not exactly communicative,’ he said, then sighed. ‘The whole business is horrible, mysterious and uncanny.’
‘You’ll put up here for the night, of course?’
‘Well, that’s very good of you, but I—’
‘I wouldn’t think of your going anywhere else. The Commissioner is going to stop here. As a matter of fact I was waiting for him to come in to dinner when you arrived.’
‘Thanks; then I will. Could I have a hasty bath? I’m a bit grimy.’
‘Of course!’
The doctor called a servant and gave orders.
‘Don’t bother to dress!’ he said.
‘I couldn’t if I would,’ replied Muir. ‘I’ve only got this kit with me!’
He had his bath and rapidly dressed himself again, and then returned to the doctor who was still on the veranda.
‘We won’t wait any longer for the Colonel,’ said the latter. ‘He might be very late.’
They entered the dining room together, and had just started the soup, when the Deputy Commissioner walked in. He did not show the slightest sign of surprise when he saw Sir Henry.
‘Hullo, Muir,’ he said. ‘Glad you’ve arrived.’
He sat down and attacked his soup with the air of a man for whom this life has very few pleasures.
‘Have you made any discoveries, Colonel?’ asked Sir Henry.
‘Not one. I’ve never been so baffled in my life. Why Elliott was murdered, I don’t know, and I don’t suppose anyone ever will know. I’ve put the driver of the rail motor under arrest on suspicion, but—’ He shrugged his shoulders.
‘What has the driver got to do with it?’
‘There’s a possibility that he may have switched the light off. Williams swears that he couldn’t have done so, but I’m taking no chances. He’s a badly frightened man, and personally I don’t think he had anything to do with it, but if he had he’ll talk, so I’m keeping him locked up for a couple of days, then, if nothing happens, I’ll let him go – without a stain on his character!’
‘Perhaps the railway company won’t reinstate him, and then—’
‘Oh yes, they will! I’ll see to that!’
‘I suppose the inquest is not likely to bring anything to light?’ said the doctor.
‘Nothing at all,’ replied the Commissioner. ‘It will be a mere formality. Your evidence is clear enough, doctor; there’s no doubt about Elliott being murdered, and as we haven’t found the murderer the verdict will be the usual. Oh, dash it all!’ he added irritably. ‘Why on earth isn’t there a clue of some sort? Even the knife it was done with might help a bit, if we could find it.’
There was silence for a time.
‘Where will Elliott be buried?’ asked Muir presently.
‘In Simla the day after tomorrow,’ replied the Colonel. ‘His body will be taken up tomorrow afternoon. Poor fellow, what a beastly finish! Thank God you got those plans through, Muir – Why, what’s the matter with you?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ said Muir hastily, giving the Commissioner a look full of meaning.
‘I – I suppose the remembrance of my drive last night is still too recent to be pleasant.’
‘I never expected you to get to Delhi,’ grunted Sanders. ‘I fully anticipated that the Viceroy would tell me you were missing when I rang up this morning. Did you have any trouble at all?’
‘Not the slightest!’
‘Strange!’
Conversation then became very desultory until the end of dinner, when the doctor stood up.
‘Well, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I’ve a patient to see, so I will leave you for a while. No doubt you have a lot to talk over. Help yourselves to drinks and cigars and make yourselves at home!’
He nodded and went out.
‘Sensible man that,’ grunted Sanders. He took a cigar and carefully lit it. ‘Now, Muir,’ he said. ‘You have some news for me – what is it?’
Sir Henry looked the Colonel straight in the face. ‘The plans have disappeared,’ he said.
‘What!’ shouted Sanders. ‘Do you really mean that?’
Muir nodded, and proceeded to give an account of the discovery that morning in the Viceroy’s study. The Commissioner heard him to the end without interruption, and for once the bored look had gone from his face.
‘It’s incredible!’ he exclaimed at last. ‘Absolutely incredible! Then the documents must have been stolen when Elliott was murdered!’
‘How could they have been?’
‘God knows! You say that the case was in your pocket from the time you left here until you reached Delhi and you never stopped after Kalka! Then by some means they were taken from Elliott; but how? How? How?’
He put his head between his hands for a moment or two, and then stood up and walked about the room.
‘There were a few things I wanted to ask you,’ he said, ‘but this has taken the wind out of my sails completely, and they’ll have to wait … What is the Viceroy going to do about it?’
‘He has cabled to the India Office, and asked them to get hold of Sir Leonard Wallace and send him out.’
The Commissioner stopped and stared at Sir Henry. ‘Who the devil is Sir Leonard Wallace?’ he demanded.
‘You know surely – The Chief of the Intelligence Department—’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard of him – He’s the fellow they made such a fuss about over
some German spies during the War, isn’t he?’
Muir smiled and nodded.
‘I think the fuss was deserved,’ he remarked. ‘At any rate he removed a very big menace to England’s safety, and he has done a lot of good work since he was put in charge of the Intelligence Department.’
‘Friend of yours, I see,’ sneered the Colonel. He sat down suddenly. ‘And so the Viceroy doesn’t think the police of this country are capable enough for this affair, and sends for a picturesque, out-of-a-novel sort of detective to supersede me.’
Sir Henry felt annoyed, and he looked it.
‘I’m surprised at your taking such a childish attitude, Colonel Sanders,’ he said. ‘Sir Leonard Wallace is a specialist in this sort of thing, as his reputation proves. He is coming out entirely to discover, if possible, what has become of the plans and, I hope, to get them back. Who committed the murder has nothing to do with him, except in so far as it is connected with the disappearance of the documents – that is yours, the police’s, side of the case. If he assists you to discover the murderer, you should be grateful, I think. I do not understand this resentful attitude of yours!’
Sanders stared at Muir for a moment, and looked as though he were verbally about to pulverise him, but thought better of it, then:
‘It will be much too late anyhow by the time he arrives in India. If, as we suspect, the Russians have Elliott’s plans, then they are well on their way to the frontier by now.’
‘They can’t get across!’ replied Muir, almost in triumph. ‘The whole of the frontier has been closed by order of Sir Edward Willys, and nobody can cross without being searched, while the Air Force has orders to keep watch, and to bring down any suspicious aeroplane that attempts to get over. As for Sir Leonard Wallace, he will travel out from England by air as fast as a plane can carry him.’
‘H’m!’ murmured the Colonel grudgingly. ‘You haven’t let the grass grow under your feet in Delhi apparently.’
‘I don’t think that can ever be laid to our charge,’ retorted Muir.
The Mystery of Tunnel 51 Page 5
