Cost Price

by Yates, Dornford

  “About four miles, now. There’s a village a mile ahead.”

  “Tell me before I get there. I want to put out my lights.”

  “Then put them out,” said Palin. “It’s round that bend.”

  The night was very dark, but, though the way was strange, Mansel drove without lights till we came to the private road: here he had to use them, because of the woods.

  “Where is this place,” said Mansel, “at which we can berth the car?”

  “On the left,” said Palin; “about a furlong ahead.” A moment later I saw the mouth of a track.

  Mansel changed to a lower gear.

  As he lifted the Rolls from the road and into the track, he brought her up all standing, and Palin exclaimed.

  Six paces in front of us was standing another car.

  I was out in a flash and was moving along its off side: but the driver’s seat was empty, and, when I used my torch, I saw that there was no one within the car. This was a very nice Lowland and must have been very fast. The switch and the bonnet were locked, but the doors were not.

  “All clear?” said Mansel, beside me.

  I told him yes.

  “Good,” says he. “But it’s just as well we came.” He turned to speak to Palin. “How far are we from the castle?”

  “About two miles.”

  “In that case they’re almost certainly using a second car. Bell, keep an eye on that road – towards the castle, I mean. Carson, turn the Rolls, take her back to the highway and cruise to and fro. William, back this car down and leave her across the road: I think her weight will do it, if you take the hand-brake off.”

  As the Rolls moved out of my way, I did as he said – to bring the Lowland to rest directly across the road. So nothing could ever go by – not even a bicycle.

  “Cut the ignition wires, William. I’ll attend to the tyres.”

  Two minutes later, the Lowland was out of commission. She could not be driven: until her tyres were inflated, she could not be moved by hand. And until she was out of the way, nothing could pass.

  “Well, that’s that,” said Mansel. “We’ve shut the stable door. We may as well go on and have a word with the thieves. Or shall we stay here and receive them? They’re sure to come back.”

  “We’d better go on,” I said.

  “Palin forward,” said Mansel. “He knows the way.”

  Bell went on, to see if the drawbridge was raised. We waited for the flash of his torch, before descending the road to the valley below. This gave to the postern-steps, by which it seemed certain the thieves would attempt their entry. What was much more important, it led to the running water, the absence of which would show that the sluice was down.

  After a moment or two, Bell’s torch winked twice, to say that the drawbridge was up.

  It was now not quite so dark, for soon the moon would rise: this helped us very much, for the last thing we wanted to do was to show a light, while we were taking the way that the thieves had used. The glow of Bell’s torch was directed away from the castle, and so should not have been seen, except by ourselves.

  So we made our way down to the meadows below the castle itself, moving fairly slowly, that Bell might have time to rejoin us before we left the road.

  Sure enough, at the edge of the meadows was standing a second car, which Palin was ready to swear was the one which Friar had used when he stayed at the inn. No one was with the car, so we took the contact-breaker and let her be.

  Then Palin led the way to the water. But this was gushing as usual out of the woods.

  “Good,” said Mansel. “Tell me about this sluice.”

  “It’s a slab of stone,” said Palin “that runs in a groove. Where it is, I don’t know. Stout boards would do in its place: but they’d have to fit.”

  “That may be their trouble,” said Mansel, “fitting the boards. I take it you explained this to Friar?”

  “More or less,” sighed Palin. “This was the castle’s supply in ancient days. He said he’d seen the same system once before: but there had been a means of cutting it off. Not to be beaten, I instantly spilled the beans.”

  And, with his words, the flow of the water diminished, but did not stop.

  “That’s right,” said Mansel, calmly. “They’re getting warm. Let’s go up and watch them, shall we? As I understand the position, they’ve got some way to go yet.”

  I could not see Palin’s face, but I saw him take off his hat and wipe his brow.

  We climbed the postern-steps, and there, at their head, was standing an excellent ladder, to take us up to the ramparts, hanging above. And a terrace window was open, to let us into the house.

  There Palin took charge: and, after what seemed a long time, he led us down into a dungeon, where men were talking quietly and showing a light.

  There were, in fact, two dungeons, the inner of which was larger and lower down than the first. It was there that the men were busy, and, standing at the head of the steps which led to the second dungeon out of the first, we could see what they were doing and hear what they said.

  There were, in all, four men; and one, with his back to us, was sitting upon a stool. On his knees he had a small searchlight, with which he illumined the scene.

  It was a sinister place, with a well in its floor. Its walls were of living rock, but in one, some five feet up, were signs of masonry. I had the impression of a doorway that had been closed: and then I knew that that was the way to the chamber in which the gems were concealed. Above this was gaping the conduit by which the water had passed; the stones and the mortar were reeking with damp and with slime, and the well in the floor was directly in line with the conduit some five feet away from the wall.

  The stones were roughly laid, and the layers of mortar between them were finger-thick. With a decent hammer and chisel, I could have cut a way in in a very short time – but not without a ladder on which to stand: and set up a ladder, you could not, because of the well. To this, the floor was sloping, and, since the flags could not be seen for the slime, no ladder could have stood by itself: yet no man could have held it, for he would have slipped; and once he had lost his footing, he must have gone into the depths.

  This, then, was the thieves’ dilemma. They had uncovered the doorway; they had the hammers and chisels with which to cut their way in: but they could not approach the doorway, because whoever did was bound to slide into the well.

  The man with the searchlight was speaking.

  “‘And beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed’ – a fact which Punter the Bold preferred to keep to himself.” He sucked in his breath. “I wish he was here. Never mind. When he returns to the fold, we’ll have things out. Don’t forget that, will you? Suppressio veri is a practice I cannot commend. I don’t mind suggestio falsi, because I am never deceived: but its twin is a dart of the wicked, against which no man is proof.” Another spoke over his shoulder.

  “What we want is a nurdle,” he said, “to cover that — well.”

  “But what a brain!” said Friar, for it was he, of course, that had spoken first. “But I have an uneasy feeling that hurdles are, at the moment, in what is called ‘short supply’. A very beautiful phrase. What about a carpet, Orris? A twenty foot square of carpet. I feel that might save your soul.”

  “That’s all right,” said a third. “An’ a ledder’ll stend on that: an’ cover the well.”

  “Thank you, Goat,” said Friar. “It’s always gratifying to have the obvious perceived – and a declaration, however obscure, made to that effect. Orris and Sloper will now go and win a carpet, while you and I await the fruit of their toil. Get on, you double —. You heard what I said.”

  The tone in which he had spoken was like the crack of a whip, and the two men, Orris and Sloper, fairly jumped in their skins.

  As they turned to do his bidding—

  “We’ll ’ave to ’ave the ladder,” said Orris.

  “I’ll see to that. You go and find a carpet, twenty foot
square.”

  We melted into the shadows, to watch, first, Orris and Sloper, and then the others go by.

  “What could be better?” said Mansel. “Let’s pull up the sluice, while they’re gone, and take the boards away.”

  This took hardly a minute, for Palin showed us the way.

  “Can we reach the steps by a window? I’d like to see them out.”

  “Follow me,” said Palin.

  Mansel touched my arm.

  “See how we go, William. I’d like you and Bell to come back.”

  So it fell out that, when we had learned how to reach the postern-steps, Bell and I came back to the dungeons, to watch what befell.

  Returned to its proper channel, a powerful head of water was plunging into the well: because it fell within walls, the bellow it made was monstrous, and so, if words were spoken, I cannot tell what they were. But, when Friar and his man returned, they seemed, at first, unable to credit the report of their eyes. Then with one consent, they let the ladder fall and turned and ran for the sluice.

  Finding their boards removed, they, both of them, drew their pistols, and peered to and fro, all ready to meet the onslaught which did not come. And when the others arrived, dragging a square of carpet and damning its weight, they cursed them into silence, to the others’ great indignation, because, of course, they knew nothing of what had occurred. All this we saw very well from behind the first dungeon’s door, for the lights were on in the passage which led to the sluice. That I was shaking with laughter, I frankly admit, for few things are more entertaining than to see a man fall into the pit you have digged.

  Then Friar gave the word to withdraw, which, using the utmost caution, they presently did. But first they retrieved the ladder – greatly against their will: but they did not know how else to reach the postern-steps. Indeed, I never saw men so much discomfited. Not that I blame them at all, for what had happened smacked of the supernatural, and the passages and the dungeons offered a natural background to such activity.

  We saw them on to the ramparts, to join them, later on, on the postern-steps, and we watched them bestow the ladder within the woods. And then, with Mansel and Palin, we watched them deal with the car…

  I do not wish to labour the matter, but several minutes went by before it occurred to Friar that the hand that had pulled up their sluice had interfered with his car, and the frantic efforts of his fellows to make the engine fire reduced us to tears of mirth. And then at last they found that the contact-breaker was gone. While they were digesting this outrage, Palin and Bell went on, to intercept Carson and wait at the end of the drive: but Mansel and I stayed behind, in case of accidents.

  From what they said, it was clear that it never entered their heads that the Lowland might have been found, and Friar spoke well of himself, as being a man that kept a spare string for his bow. And so, at last, they set off, all very short of temper and two, who had been ‘swinging’ the shaft, scarce able to stand, to walk the two miles to the car which should carry them home.

  As soon as they had started, Mansel and I took the ladder and laid it out of sight by the postern-steps: and then we followed the rogues, to overtake them before they had reached the main drive.

  So we moved together, some twenty-five paces apart. And then they came to the Lowland, lying across the road.

  For a moment, they all stood still.

  Then—

  “He’s here,” said Friar. “This is Mansel. I might have known.” He turned in his tracks. “Are you there, Captain Mansel? I’d like to talk with you.”

  “Then put up your hands,” said Mansel. “I’m not alone.”

  “Today to you,” said Friar, and did as he said.

  “Your companions will do the same and will stand by your side.”

  At this there was some hesitation. Then somebody lighted a torch and Mansel fired.

  As the torch was shattered—

  “I trust that will show you,” said Mansel, “that I mean what I say.”

  Before he had finished speaking, the four were in line.

  “Take their arms, William.”

  I took their pistols away and came back to his side.

  “And now,” said Mansel, “what do you want to say?”

  “Deal with me,” said Friar. “If you don’t, I go to the Boche.”

  “I don’t deal with thieves,” said Mansel.

  “D’you think you can deal with the Boche?”

  “Nobody can,” said Mansel. “That’s why you won’t try.”

  “I will – in the last resort.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not playing,” said Mansel. “Do as you please.”

  “I can get this stuff out of the country. You cannot. I can’t help feeling there’s room for a bargain there.”

  “In your eyes, perhaps. Not in mine. Tonight you have shown that you are a common thief. And common thieves are people with whom I never deal – except as I have tonight.”

  “I see. D’you know a man called Palin?”

  “I do,” said Mansel. “It’s thanks to him that I’m here. When he wired that you were leaving, I left at once.”

  A pregnant silence greeted this pregnant lie.

  Then—

  “About these cars,” said Friar.

  “You can take them both,” said Mansel, “provided you waste no time. You see, this is blocking the drive. When you’ve inflated the tyres, you can push her straight. Then you can bring up the other and tow her away.” He turned to me. “The contact-breaker, William.”

  I took it out of my pocket and pitched it down on the ground.

  “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  “I try to,” said Mansel. “How’s Punter?”

  “He’s alive at the moment,” said Friar.

  “I see. Well, now I’ve arrangements to make, so I must get back to the castle. I think it would be a mistake for us to meet again.”

  “The mistake will be made, Captain Mansel.”

  “As you please. It’s now three o’clock. If your cars are still here at five, they’ll be taken off the estate and wrecked for good.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and I followed him down the drive, with the firearms which I had taken still in my hands.

  We walked as far as the fork, where one road led on to the castle and the other, up which we had come, to the foot of the postern-steps. And there we concealed the pistols and waited to see that the rogues would do as we said.

  Five minutes later, Sloper and Goat arrived – and, having turned the corner, sat down on the bank and lighted their cigarettes.

  “Gorblime, said Goat. “’E can’ put this acrost me. Did you ever see such a — in all your life?”

  “Give ’im a chance,” said Sloper. “Them jools is worf all Bon’ Street – an’ then some more. Can’ expec’ roses all the way.”

  “Roses?” spat Goat. “Roses? Bunch o’ red-’ot barb wire, if you ask me. Be yer age, Sloper. Led daown the garding path–”

  “’E’s bin double-cross,” said Sloper. “That Palin’s a dirty —. Arms roun’ ’is neck – an’ wirin’ reports to Mansel every night.”

  “See ’ere,” said Goat. “If I fall down, there aren’t no excuses for me. Well, ’e’s fell down, good an’ proper. Danced bung into the muck. An’ more. ’Ad ’is nose rubbed in it, Sloper… Well, wot’s sauce for the — gander’s — well sauce for the goose. I’ve lorsse me confidence. Mansel’s the better man.”

  “It does look like it,” said Friar. The others started to their feet. “And yet I’ve a feeling that I shall have those gems. You see, they’re worth having: and when I want something worth having I usually get it before the end of the match. Palin fooled me, of course. He put up a beautiful show. I could have sworn he was simple. But now I know where I am. And that is back where we started. Well, be it so. Mansel is here, of course, to get those jewels out. I shall let him get them out – of the chamber. That will save us a lot of wearisome work. And when they are out of the
chamber… Those gems are worth two million – two million pounds. And that’s rock bottom. I don’t think I can let Mansel in on a thing like that. No, I think we shall have to have them… Sloper, back to the Lowland, and pull your weight. Goat with me. We’re going to move that ladder – you never know.”

  With that, he made for the meadows, and Goat fell in behind: but Sloper turned and went back the way he had come.

  Mansel and I followed Sloper for two or three hundred yards: then we left the road and took to the woods, to come out on the main highway in a quarter of an hour.

  As we turned to the left—

  “Ignorance,” said Mansel, “is bliss. If Friar knew what we knew, the knowledge would shorten his life. Honestly, it was a very near thing. And we have emerged triumphant. We have compelled a respect which we in no way deserve.”

  “You’ve shaken his fellows,” said I.

  “Goat, yes,” said Mansel. “But Friar will deal with him. That’s what he followed them for.”

  “How,” said I, “did he know that you were in on this show?”

  “Ferrers must have been watched,” said Mansel. “And when my name was mentioned, Punter filled in the gaps.”

  That that was the explanation, I have no doubt: for Punter had good reason to know what Mansel could do. And Friar’s recognition of Mansel’s masterly ways shows, I think, what the man had been led to expect.

  “What line will he take?” said I.

  “I wish I knew,” said Mansel. “Of course he’ll do as he said and let us unearth the gems. It sounds very fine, but he can’t do anything else. But how will he prevent us from taking them out? I mean, he can’t watch the castle by day and night. Never mind. Our job is to go ahead as though he didn’t exist, and sooner or later he’s bound to show his hand.”

  And there Bell fell in beside us, to lead us up to the Rolls…

  As we drove back to the inn, Mansel related to Palin what had occurred.

  Then—

  “Tell me this,” he said. “Tomorrow morning will Hohenems send for the police? I mean, that the castle has been entered will be most evident.”

  “No,” said Palin. “The steward will report to me. I am in loco parentis. He will report to me and ask what he should do.”