by John Creasey
The fuse spluttered as he stepped to a corner of the room, crouching there with his head in his hands. The waiting seemed interminable, but the explosion came at last, a loud boom! that shook the floor.
Debris fell about the study, thudding against floor and walls.
As the last of it fell, Mannering straightened up and hurried to the safe. The door was hanging open, and he could see loosely stacked jewel-cases and documents. He drew them out quickly, stuffing the papers into the pocket of his coat. He had to work fast, for the explosion would have aroused the servants; after a few moments of fright they would begin to raise the alarm. Neighbours might be on the qui vive, too.
He forced the cases, one after the other.
Three in all; but the Glorias were not in any of them!
He stared down at the three sets of jewels, precious seconds ticking by as he overcame the shock of that discovery. He had not dreamed that he would be unsuccessful, he was so certain in his mind that the Glorias would be here that it was like a physical shock.
No sound reached his ears, the maids had not yet started calling. He needed a breather.
He had looked in every drawer, examined every possible hiding place, but the Glorias were not at The Laurels.
Did that mean Crane had them hidden somewhere else?
Mannering kept the papers, but left the jewels in the cases, on the floor, and swung round to the door. It was the work of a moment to strip the plaster away.
He pulled the door open, confused and uncertain in his mind.
And he saw the man standing there, with the gun in his hand.
The shock of the encounter made the Baron stagger, but as he regained his self-control, as he stood staring at the stolid face in front of him, looking into those unwinking eyes, he had another shock: different, almost pleasurable. He knew that he had been right, the theory that had seemed shattered by the visit of the little man to The Laurels was the right one. He was looking into the face of Errol, the man who had pleaded so convincingly for work!
And he knew why Errol was here, knew who had named the Baron to Rogerson.
That had puzzled him from the first, he could have sworn no one of the Beverley house party suspected him; but Errol, late of Scotland Yard, could easily have done so.
Had done so, in fact.
While Mannering remembered Crane’s smiling: ‘I’m thinking of adding to my staff, we need another man in the house at nights.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Confession
Before either of them spoke, before Mannering had fully recovered from the shock, the maids began to call out in fright from their locked room. But Mannering was more concerned at the possibility of interference from outside.
He was acutely aware of the odds against him.
Erroll could shoot to kill, with every excuse. Probably he would do so, for he would be afraid of the Baron. And when the police came there would be a straightforward story, the game would be finished for Mannering, dead or alive. Whether Errol had the Glorias downstairs or not he was safe from the police, they would not dream of looking for the stolen jewels there.
So many things needed explanation, although he was sure that he knew the truth.
The shouting and banging upstairs increased.
Errol said in a dangerous voice: ‘So I’ve got you, have I? Where’s Rogerson?’
It was the final proof that the Baron needed. Despite the danger he felt an invigorating satisfaction.
‘You’ve got me, have you?’ he said. ‘What for? Shooting Armstrong when he followed you?’
The gun jerked forward.
‘Where’s the other stuff?’ Errol snapped. ‘Tell me that, and I’ll let you go, or—’
He was two yards from the Baron, too far off for a sharp attack. The nearness of death or capture was on him, there was no time to bluff, to play with words. A quick dive, safety perhaps but a far greater risk of fatal injury. As he tensed himself for the spring, he did not see the woman approaching. Her sharp words were as much a surprise to the Baron as to Errol.
‘Put your hands up!’
The Baron’s mind reeled, for that voice was as familiar as his own, although a mask covered her face. Lorna!
Errol swung round, and as he moved the Baron leapt forward, knocking his gun-arm up. The automatic did not go off, but Errol was fighting like a madman, a fist crashed into the Baron’s stomach, making him gasp and stagger back. A foot followed. All thought of Lorna’s arrival disappeared, pain and alarm mingled with each other. He did not see Lorna bring the butt of the gun down on Errol’s head, nor hear the man’s cry as he staggered. He did not feel Lorna’s hands on his, hear her urgent words.
‘John, hurry! You’ve got to hurry!’
He stood up unsteadily, seeing Errol trying to scramble to his feet. Then very clearly he realised what would happen if the police arrived, and Lorna was caught here. That cleared his head.
‘You’ve got your car?’
‘Not mine. I hired one.’
‘Outside?’
‘Two houses along.’
In Mannering’s hand was Errol’s gun, and he levelled it towards the ex-policeman, while looking at Lorna.
‘Lead the way,’ he said. ‘Errol, you follow her, I’ll be behind with the gun, understand that?’
Lorna was already halfway down the stairs. Errol and Mannering followed her through the front door which Mannering had previously unlatched. As they reached the roadway a policeman ran past them towards The Laurels.
Lorna’s car was standing in deep shadow, without lights.
She slipped into the driving seat and Mannering forced Errol into the back. A police whistle shrilled out. Lorna let in the clutch, and the car began to move. The shouting and whistling behind them merged with the roaring of the engine as they drove towards the Common.
In five minutes they were safe from pursuit. Mannering turned to Errol, his voice harsh.
‘Have you got the Glorias with you?’
‘I—’
‘Have you?’
‘Yes, yes! They’re here!’
‘Keep your hands from your pocket! And listen. I know Mannering, he’s told me that Rogerson believed he’s the Baron. Rogerson’s talked, and says he got that from you. Why?’
‘I—I once overheard Bristow saying Mannering was.’
‘And you believed it? It takes an ex-policeman to do that! According to Rogerson he and Smith were getting away with the stuff when Armstrong came out. You shot him. They planted the suitcase with the big stuff in the shrubbery, came back and chucked Armstrong into the hollow, after planting the small jewels on him. Right?’
‘Y-yes.’ Errol was shivering.
‘Afterwards you heard the maid talking to young Sharron. You found she suspected you. Rogerson and Mervin came down the day Sharron kicked you out, went to the dance with her, and afterwards walked to the stream. You pushed her in—’
‘It’s a lie!’ Errol screeched. ‘Rogerson did it, I couldn’t stop him, Mervin held me up with a gun! Where is Rogerson.’
‘He’s well looked after. Who else did you tell about Mannering?’
‘No one, I swear! Gillison wanted to know, but I wouldn’t talk.’
‘Meaning that you saw a chance of blackmail and you were afraid Gillison would steal your thunder?’
‘I—oh, for God’s sake, yes, yes!’
‘How did Rogerson get the idea?’
‘I—I told him, I had to! Gillison sent me to find if Mannering knew about—about his part. When I saw he did, Gillison told me to croak him. I daren’t, I told Rogerson and he went to Brook Street.’
‘So you’re the only two who think it,’ said the Baron. ‘Look!’ He switched on the roof-light, and took off his mask. Errol stared into that unfamiliar face. ‘Satisfied?’
‘Y-yes, yes!’
‘You’d better be. Now you’re going to turn King’s evidence,’ went on the Baron very slowly. ‘Understand? It’s your only way of saving
your life. You’ll testify against Gillison, Mervin, Smith and Rogerson.’
‘I—I daren’t!’
‘Here’s the alternative,’ said the Baron, and he raised his gun. Errol crouched back in the car.
‘All—right.’
‘Sensible man. Was Yvonne Gillison in this?’
‘No.’
‘Mrs. Mendleson?’
‘No. Mervin got friendly with her in order to find out Mendleson’s game, but—but she didn’t know it.’
‘I see,’ said Mannering, and then very softly: ‘What is Mendleson’s game?’
‘I don’t know, I swear I don’t.’
‘All right. Why did you type that letter to Mannering?’
‘It—it was Gillison’s idea,’ Errol muttered. ‘He told me to send it, but he didn’t tell Smith or Rogerson about the Baron being there, when Armstrong butted in it looked easy to them to plant the stuff on him. I—I was too busy watching the house, I didn’t know what they were doing.’
‘That was unfortunate,’ murmured the Baron. ‘When Mannering arrived outside, Smith or Rogerson knocked you out, to prevent you from being suspect. One thing and the other must have made Gillison see red.’
‘He nearly went mad,’ muttered Errol.
But for the nagging fear that Rogerson would name him in Court, Mannering was well satisfied. He learned that Errol had been planning a scheme of blackmail, but had hesitated. Needing money badly, Errol had joined Gillison, and hearing of the plot to get the Kallinovs, had boasted of his knowledge that the Baron would be among the guests. Gillison had worked on that to implicate the Baron and gain time for getting the stones out of the country, but he was handicapped by Errol’s stubborn refusal to name the Baron.
Mannering could safely put Bristow on to Gillison, now.
To save himself from possible trouble it would be easier to let Errol and Rogerson go, even to help them abroad: but to condone murder was beyond him. He had to take the chance.
He asked Lorna to pull up at the nearest phone kiosk.
‘How the devil did you do it, darling?’ he whispered. Her smile was quick, anxious.
‘As soon as Parker phoned I came down you were leaving Fuller Mansions as I arrived, and I knew you were after the Cranes when you booked for Hampstead. So I hired the car.’
‘Bless you,’ said the Baron fervently. He turned back to Errol, and spoke more loudly. ‘How did you get the job with Crane? You were working there, weren’t you?’
‘I—I pitched the same yarn as I did to Mannering, and his wife was nervous after the Towers job, and he took me on.’
‘Who’s the little man who saw Leverson?’
‘He’s Gibson – he runs messages, he don’t know much.’
‘Was Knowles in it?’
‘No – he knows Gibson, that’s all.’
Lorna pulled up by a kiosk, and Mannering slipped out, leaving her with a gun to control Errol. He was through to the Yard quickly, and in a few seconds Bristow’s voice came over the wires.
‘Yes, Mannering?’
‘Up late?’ asked the Baron. ‘Gillison is your man, Bill, and Errol’s another. Errol will give you your evidence, for the usual clemency, and he’s got the Glorias in his pocket.’
‘You sure?’ gasped Bristow.
‘Not a doubt. But I can’t hand you Mendleson on a salver, more’s the pity.’
‘You don’t need to,’ Bristow said. ‘Sharron recovered enough to talk. The whole company was to be “genuine” until it was floated – they had rented a factory, even taken orders for goods. But they were going to decamp afterwards – or Mendleson was. He’s deep in a dozen frauds, and he had to get out of the country. He needed Sharron’s name on the board to get hold of others: Sharron wanted money quickly, and fell for the bait. He was to have a third of the proceeds, and Mendleson was to disappear with the rest, taking the blame. When you warned Sharron about Mendleson he cracked.’
‘But Fauntley—’
‘Oh, he wasn’t in it, he simply persuaded Government orders for the new company. We’ve taken Mendleson, and I’ll get Gillison before the night’s out. Sharron died soon after signing a statement.’
‘It’s as well,’ said Mannering slowly.
It was over. Mendleson’s ramp as well as Gillison’s, two major crimes apparently unconnected – and he could return the Sharron jewels, and the Mendleson’s, to the proper quarters.
But would Rogerson face trial without trying to implicate him?
It was more likely that the man would try to win sympathy from the police by naming the Baron, and a word in Court would break Mannering, even if there was no reliable evidence.
Breaking the Gillison gang might bring his own downfall.
Rogerson’s face was livid as he stared at the Baron.
‘You daren’t do it! I’ll let the world know you’re the Baron!’ He sobbed for breath, his body quivering. ‘You promised me a break—’
‘That was before I knew who killed Armstrong,’ said the Baron sombrely.
‘It will ruin you!’
‘You can’t name me,’ said the Baron slowly.
But he knew that if Rogerson persisted it would break him, and there was no reason for the man to keep silent: his one faint hope of avoiding the gallows was a reprieve in exchange for information.
Rogerson’s eyes were glassy, and his voice dropped.
‘You—you mean it,’ he gasped. ‘No, I won’t face the police. I didn’t mean to kill, I swear, I didn’t.’
His hand moved like lightning from his pocket to his mouth, and a moment later Mannering and Leverson caught the sharp smell of bitter almonds. They had to watch him die.
Bristow glanced with satisfaction at Superintendent Lynch.
‘Errol’s story fixes Gillison, Smith and Mervin, sir. Rogerson, too, but he’s been found dead on Wanstead flats – prussic acid, obviously suicide after he heard about the arrests. Smith has been picked up in Manchester, and he confirms all Errol says.’
‘Good. Anything else, Bristow?’
‘From papers at Mendleson’s place, sir, it’s pretty obvious he and Gillison were planning the separate coups together, and to leave the country. I fancy Mendleson would have bought the Kallinovs, but he hesitated when the Baron raided the Barnes house, and Gillison wanted to sell quickly. There’s another odd thing’—Bristow’s lips twitched—‘Errol’s anxious to help us now, and he’s convinced we’re wrong in thinking Mannering is the Baron. I fancy he’s sincere, but I heard something rather unexpected – you know Errol’s wife has T.B.?’
Ffoulkes raised his eyebrows.
‘What about it?’
‘Mannering’s arranged for her to go to Switzerland, where she’s got a good chance of pulling through. That’s one of the reasons Errol went into the game, apparently. Anyhow, he’s cock-a-hoop over it, and strong for Mannering.’
‘Since Sharron died, it’s fairly satisfactory all round,’ admitted Ffoulkes. ‘A very successful inquiry, Bristow. Your arrest of Errol earned a lot of publicity. So has the Baron since he returned the Sharron jewels to Lady Sharron, and Mendleson’s to the Public Prosecutor. I want you to take an hour or so off this afternoon.’
‘Do you, sir?’
‘Go and have tea with Mannering,’ said Ffoulkes, taking a string of diamonds from his desk, ‘and return the Glorias with our compliments.’
Series Information
Published or to be published by
House of Stratus
Dates given are those of first publication
Alternative titles in brackets
‘The Baron’ (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)
‘Department ‘Z’’ (28 titles)
‘Dr. Palfrey Novels’ (34 titles)
‘Gideon of Scotland Yard’ (22 titles)
‘Inspector West’ (43 titles)
‘Sexton Blake’ (5 titles)
‘The Toff’ (59 titles)
along with:
The Masters of Bow
Street
This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey’s account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel’s Act in 1829.
‘The Baron’ Series
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Meet the Baron (The Man in the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Returns (The Return of the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Again (Salute Blue Mask) (1938)
The Baron at Bay (Blue Mask at Bay) (1938)
Alias the Baron (Alias Blue Mask) (1939)
The Baron at Large (Challenge Blue Mask!) (1939)
Versus the Baron (Blue Mask Strikes Again) (1940)
Call for the Baron (Blue Mask Victorious) (1940)
The Baron Comes Back (1943)
A Case for the Baron (1945)
Reward for the Baron (1945)
Career for the Baron (1946)
Blood Diamond (The Baron and the Beggar) (1947)
Blame the Baron (1948)
A Rope for the Baron (1948)
Books for the Baron (1949)
Cry for the Baron (1950)
Trap the Baron (1950)
Attack the Baron (1951)
Shadow the Baron (1951)
Warn the Baron (1952)
The Baron Goes East (1953)
The Baron in France (1953)
Danger for the Baron (1953)
The Baron Goes Fast (1954)
Nest-Egg for the Baron (Deaf, Dumb and Blonde) (1954)
Help from the Baron (1955)
Hide the Baron (1956)
The Double Frame (Frame the Baron) (1957)
Blood Red (Red Eye for the Baron) (1958)
