‘Don’t rub it in, Phyllis!’ said Molly. ‘Let us go and have breakfast! Perhaps there’ll be a message by the time we have finished.’
Dorin had employed a couple of men to watch for the arrival of the yacht, but had no idea that she could possibly arrive so soon. His astonishment was great therefore when on Friday morning they came to the small hotel in which he had taken a room under the name of Spencer and announced that she had entered the harbour. He was just about to get up when a message was brought to him that they were waiting to see him. So, hastily dressing, he had them sent in.
‘Arrived already!’ he exclaimed. He spoke Persian fluently, as he did several languages. ‘Surely you have made a mistake?’
‘Not so, Excellency. She is the Greyhound, for the name was signalled!’
Dorin swore. This was an unexpected contretemps. The question was, how could he keep Lady Wallace waiting until the morrow, for, not expecting the arrival of the yacht before Saturday, the aeroplane would not reach the rendezvous until then. But he was a man of action and, dismissing the two Persians, he hurriedly bathed and shaved and, spick and span, set off to the harbour where he hired a boat and was rowed out to the yacht.
Molly and Phyllis had just concluded breakfast, when a message was brought to the former that a Mr Spencer had come aboard and was waiting to see her. She went on deck and saw a tall man with a fair beard, wearing spotless ducks, awaiting her. He bowed deeply.
‘You have come from my husband?’ she asked.
‘I have, Your Ladyship,’ he replied, ‘and I deeply regret that I am so late. But we did not expect the ship until tomorrow.’
She smiled.
‘We have come out very quickly,’ she said, ‘so it is really our fault for being here so soon.’
‘Nevertheless I feel deeply guilty, and Sir Leonard will be annoyed I fear.’
‘Not at all. Why should he be? Is he in Bushire?’
‘No, madam. He is some miles up country in chase of some people he has followed from India. He arranged to return to a spot within twenty miles of this city tomorrow morning, and left me here to take you to him.’
‘Then I shall not be able to see him till tomorrow,’ she said in disappointed tones.
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Why cannot he return here? Surely if he can come within twenty miles he can come here!’
‘He does not wish to lose time in following these people, so he asked me to bring you out in a car and await the arrival of the aeroplane.’
‘Then he is flying?’
‘Yes!’
‘And does he propose to take me with him after these people?’
‘I believe so!’
‘Oh, how exciting!’ And she turned to Phyllis, who had just come on deck, introduced Dorin to her, and then told her the news.
‘But, my dear,’ said Phyllis, ‘how extraordinary it all sounds! I really don’t see why he couldn’t have come the other twenty miles. Surely twenty miles is nothing to an aeroplane.’
‘You may be sure Leonard has some motive,’ said Molly.
‘I suppose so, but I can’t see it!’ Phyllis shook her head doubtfully. ‘Why was Major Brien left at Delhi?’ she asked Dorin.
The latter started. So this was the wife of the Major! He had not hitherto connected the names. Certainly, he thought, this complicated matters, and how did she know that her husband was at Delhi. He showed no signs of his uneasiness, however, and smiled.
‘Major Brien returned to Delhi with some very important documents for the Viceroy, and we came up here,’ he said.
‘Are you connected with the Indian Police?’ asked Molly.
Dorin bowed.
‘I am the Deputy Commissioner of Karachi,’ he lied.
‘Oh, I see. And are these people you are after political criminals?’
‘Yes! In fact they are more than that, they are spies of the Russian Government!’
‘Dear me! How thrilling! Are there many of them?’ asked Molly.
‘Three or four!’
Molly and Phyllis asked several more questions, all of which were answered by Dorin without hesitation and with an absolute disregard for the truth. Then he suggested that the two ladies should accompany him ashore, where he would endeavour to show them round the city. Molly shook her head.
‘No, thank you,’ she said, ‘it is much too hot for one thing, and the look of the place does not appeal to me for another. What do you say, Phyllis?’
‘I agree with you, dear. I am not at all keen on leaving the boat.’
‘I really think you are wise,’ said Dorin smiling. ‘There is very little to see here and it is a pretty dirty hole.’
‘Perhaps you will dine with us on board tonight, Mr Spencer?’ invited Molly. ‘We generally have dinner about eight.’
‘It is very kind of Your Ladyship,’ said the Russian.
‘Then we shall expect you!’
He bowed, and a minute or two later took his leave. Molly and Phyllis sought their chairs under the awning.
‘I don’t like that man,’ said the latter. ‘He is too smug.’
‘Neither do I,’ said Molly. ‘I dislike excessively polite people, and he is one; besides which his manners are un-English and over-elaborate. Poor man, I hope we are not making his ears burn with our criticisms; and he is probably quite a nice fellow. Isn’t it awful to think that I have to wait a whole day before I see Leonard?’
‘What about me?’ exclaimed Phyllis. ‘I may have to wait several days before seeing Billy.’
‘Yes, poor dear, I forgot that. It was rather selfish of me.’
Dorin went ashore deep in thought. The fact that Mrs Brien was on board the yacht rather worried him, and for the first time he had doubts about the wisdom of sending a wireless message for the Greyhound to come to Bushire. He returned to his hotel and spent several hours thinking things over. At first he was inclined to take both women with him to meet the aeroplane, but on second thoughts he decided that to include Phyllis in the party might be unwise and cause complications, so he determined that if she wished to come he would have to prevent her doing so by saying that Wallace had sent his regrets, but was definite on the point that only Lady Wallace was to go.
As a matter of fact Phyllis had no desire to make the trip at all, and when Molly suggested it at dinner that evening she said she would rather stay on board and look after the children. Dorin proved himself such a genial companion during the meal that the two girls almost revised their opinion of him. He was a splendid conversationalist and a great traveller, and he interested them very much with his vividly drawn pictures of the various countries he had been in. In fact, laying himself out to obtain Molly’s confidence, he very nearly overdid it, for she asked him how it was that he, an Indian police officer, had visited so many countries, and he was constrained to invent a long story of secret missions to different parts of the world on behalf of the Indian Government. Dorin, in truth, was a versatile man, and he might have made a name for himself as an author of romantic fiction, if he had not chosen to be a rogue.
At ten o’clock the next morning he returned to the yacht, and escorted Molly ashore. Adrian was very anxious to go with her, and coaxed and cajoled his mother for a long time before she eventually persuaded him that he could not go. It was a very disappointed little face that watched the boat leave the vessel’s side. The Captain had been informed of her proposed trip at breakfast, and seemed rather doubtful about it. He turned up later on with a small loaded revolver, which he handed to her. At first she refused to take it, but he was so earnest and persistent that at last she laughingly consented, and hid it in her dress.
An antiquated car was waiting at the landing-stage, and entering it with Dorin, they were jolted out of the city in the direction of Shiraz. The heat was intense and presently, when they left the road and took to a mere track across the desert, the dust rose round them in clouds, and Molly thought she had never had such an unpleasant experience in her life. At l
ast they reached their destination, and a desolate spot it was. For miles round nothing was to be seen but a waste of sand, a few stunted trees, and some cactus plants. The solitude began to frighten her a little, and she almost wished she had not come. It occurred to her as strange that Leonard should have wanted her to meet him in such a place, and for the first time, she began to have misgivings about the genuineness of the rendezvous and her companion, who was doing his best to cheer her with his conversation. She studied him covertly, and noticed how anxiously he scanned the sky for any signs of the aircraft. She wondered what she should do if, after all, this bearded stranger had not been sent by her husband, but that, hearing of her arrival, he had kidnapped her for some reason of his own – things like that had happened even in this extremely law-abiding twentieth century, and the driver of the car was a particularly villainous-looking individual, she thought. Then the humour of such an idea occurred to her – a very important and respectable member of the Indian police, turning kidnapper! – and she laughed. Dorin looked at her curiously, and politely asked why she laughed, but she gave him an evasive answer, and thereafter there was silence – a deadly silence which, to Molly’s imagination, seemed to suggest some impending disaster. The stillness of a desert is unlike any other quiet – there is something intense, almost frightening about it, and to anyone in Molly’s position it has a sense of evil in it, as though all the forces, of wickedness are gathering their strength for some terrible outburst of sin.
At last the tension was broken, a distant hum could be heard, and with an exclamation of satisfaction Dorin pointed to a speck in the sky which rapidly grew larger, and Molly recognised the great aeroplane in which her husband had left Croydon eighteen days before. The big figures and letters on it, denoting the squadron of the Royal Air Force to which it belonged, gave her a great sense of relief, and she turned to Dorin with a smile.
‘It was rather desolate waiting, wasn’t it?’ she said. ‘I cannot see where the fascination of a desert comes in; it gave me rather a feeling of dread.’
‘I agree with you, Lady Wallace,’ replied the Russian. ‘Deserts are most uninteresting places.’
The aeroplane sank lower and lower, and presently planed down to the earth, and came to rest about twenty yards from them. Dorin at once helped Molly to alight from the car, and escorted her across to the huge machine. A smart young fellow came to meet them, and saluted her respectfully.
‘Sir Leonard Wallace’s compliments Lady Wallace,’ he said. ‘He is awaiting you about fifty miles from here.’
Molly hesitated. Again a doubt assailed her; again she thought Leonard’s behaviour to be strange. Why had he not come to meet her now! But the young man before her looked to be so obviously an English officer, and after all this was the same aeroplane.
She smiled.
‘You are not the pilot who was in charge when my husband left England, are you?’ she asked.
‘No, Lady Wallace. I have taken over from him for the present.’
He helped her into the interior of the machine, then turned to Dorin.
‘The others are guarding the prisoners,’ he whispered in Russian, ‘so I came alone. I suppose you did not think to bring any petrol with you?’
‘No; why?’
‘I am running very short. There is not enough to carry us as much as a hundred miles.’
Dorin muttered an oath under his breath. He paid the driver of the car and turned back to Alexieff.
‘We’ll have to obtain some somewhere, after Wallace is finished with,’ he said. ‘Let us get back now!’
He joined Molly in the saloon and the aeroplane rose in the air again. Then Dorin cast off all pretence. He bowed to her mockingly.
‘I am sorry to have deceived Lady Wallace,’ he said, ‘but in the circumstances it was necessary. It is my duty to inform you that you are in the hands of the Russian Soviet – my real name is Dorin, and I am one of their chief agents!’
Molly started back and went white to the lips.
‘Surely you are—you are joking,’ she said.
‘By no means! I am deadly serious!’
‘Then my husband—?’
‘Is also a prisoner with two of his companions – I am taking you now to witness his execution.’
A great cry of terror rose to her lips.
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ she gasped.
‘Pardon me! The execution was determined upon by my colleague and myself. We were only awaiting your arrival to carry it out.’
Stricken with fear and a great grief, Molly sank into one of the cushioned seats. It had come upon her with overwhelming force that this man Dorin meant every word he said, and the shock deprived her for the time being of all her faculties, all her strength. But she was a brave woman and came of a family of soldiers, and presently her brain commenced to work again. She thought of every means she could to get the better of this man, who was now sitting opposite her, watching her with a cynical smile on his face. At first her inclination was to draw the revolver the Captain had pressed upon her, and hold him up. But further reflection showed her how useless such a proceeding would be, and she decided to keep the weapon hidden in the hope that it might prove of assistance to her husband.
As she thought of Leonard she could not repress a sob. So this was the explanation of what she had considered his strange conduct. He was all the time a prisoner in the hands of these fiends, and had not sent the wireless message. No wonder it was signed ‘Wallace’; no wonder there had been no message of love in it. Striving to keep her voice firm she asked Dorin what harm her husband had done him and his companions, that they should desire to kill him. She was answered by a passionate outburst from the Russian.
‘In one week,’ he said vehemently, ‘Sir Leonard Wallace has destroyed our power in India: he has caused all the efforts of years to be of no account. Our hard work, our careful propaganda has gone for naught, and we have had to leave the country. Not only that, but he also upset our efforts to influence opinion in England four years ago. Is it any wonder that now he is in our power we mean to destroy him? And it is a sweet revenge to force his wife to see his end. We have failed in India through his interference, but we will rid the world of him, and our great country will be proud of us and grateful to us. After his death you will be handed over to be dealt with by the members of the Soviet themselves – they admire pretty women!’
She shuddered. The horrible smile with which he accompanied his last words brought a terrible picture before her mind and suddenly she felt weak, almost paralysed; but her womanhood reasserted itself, and she sat proudly up with a dignity that impressed Dorin in spite of himself.
In the seclusion of the desert retreat, Wallace lay in agony. It was not so much the torture of his numerous sores under the burning heat of the sun that was troubling him, but the fact that Molly should be in the power of these inhuman fiends, who had staged such a terrible drama to wreak their vengeance on him. Close to him lay Batty, and a little farther away the two airmen. Levinsky and Polunin were seated smoking under the shade of a tarpaulin, which they had erected to protect themselves from the fierce rays of the sun. With feelings of dread the four Englishmen had witnessed the departure of the aeroplane for the rendezvous, where it was expected that Molly and Dorin would be awaiting its arrival. Presently Batty spoke.
‘I’ve managed to loosen this rope wot ties me ’ands, sir,’ he said hoarsely. ‘If yer turns over on yer side, an’ I wriggles to yer, d’you think yer can make shift to get me free?’
‘I’ll try, Batty,’ replied Leonard, ‘but be careful! They are watching every movement.’
‘Aye, aye, sir!’
By imperceptible degrees the sailor wriggled nearer and nearer to Wallace, and after some time they lay back to back, and the latter’s fingers could just reach the cord that tied Batty’s wrists. Watching the Russians from the corners of his eyes, Leonard’s fingers found the knot and slowly, painfully began to work at it. Whenever Levinsky’s or Polunin�
�s eyes strayed in their direction, he stopped and held his breath in apprehension, but to the Russians it only appeared that the two men were lying together, and no suspicion was raised. At last, after what seemed an eternity, Leonard found the knot give in his fingers, and he pulled the strands of rope apart.
‘I’ve done it, Batty!’ he whispered in exultation, between his closed lips. ‘Draw away! You can do the rest.’
At that moment Polunin came across to them.
‘Get apart!’ he growled, kicking Batty. The latter, without a word moved aside, but there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes, at which the Russian would have wondered, had he seen it.
In a short while the aeroplane arrived, and Leonard got to his feet somehow. Standing there swaying drunkenly he watched Dorin alight followed by Molly, and a sob of emotion shook him from head to foot. Levinsky advanced to the machine and raised his hat to the girl with ironical politeness.
‘Welcome to our little retreat, Lady Wallace,’ he said.
But Molly took no notice of him, she was searching for her husband. At first she failed to recognise him in the terrible-looking object, covered with clotted blood, who stood swaying so weakly a few yards from her. Then with a cry of anguish that should have softened the most hard-hearted, she ran to him and put her arms round him.
‘Oh, my darling,’ she moaned, ‘what have they done to you?’
Levinsky strode forward with the intention of pulling her away.
‘You shall have one lover-like scene before he dies,’ he said, ‘but at present—’
He never completed the sentence, for suddenly Molly swung round with a cry, and in her right hand she held a wicked-looking little revolver.
‘Move a step more,’ she said, ‘and I will shoot!’
Her face was deadly pale, but there was the light of an unflinching courage in her beautiful eyes. Levinsky stopped dead, and stared at her. Dorin, with an oath, drew his own revolver, but in that moment Batty shook free the cord which had bound his wrists and, with a roar that contained all the pent-up sufferings of days, sprang upon him. A crashing blow from the sailor’s right fist found its billet, and Dorin went down with a groan.
The Mystery of Tunnel 51 Page 31
