Читать книгу The Murder Germ - A. O. Pollard - Страница 4

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The force of the impact jerked Tony from his seat, bringing his head into sharp contact with the instrument-board. For a few moments stars danced before his eyes; then, as his mind cleared from the shock of the crash, he struggled into an upright position and looked about him.

One of the wings of the monoplane was crumpled in a shapeless tangle, the engine had been torn from its bearers, but the cabin and most of the fuselage, being steel-framed, were more or less intact.

His once-violent passenger lay like a log. There was a nasty-looking gash from his forehead to his scalp and, from the angle at which it stuck out, his right arm appeared to be broken.

Tony forced open the cabin door and dragged the unfortunate wretch into the open. He was quite unconscious and looked as though he would remain so for some time. It was quite evident that his injuries needed skilled attention. Rather than waste time fixing temporary bandages, it would be more sensible to summon a doctor right away.

Which direction would be the best to take to obtain help? wondered Tony, as he surveyed the neighbourhood. The field into which the monoplane had fallen was entirely surrounded by trees. Although there must be a house of some sort within a radius of a few hundred yards there was nothing to indicate its whereabouts.

Fixing the cardinal points by the position of the sun he endeavoured to estimate his approximate position. The machine had been flying south towards Farnborough when the struggle began. Since the wind was from the west they would probably have drifted slightly to the east of the main Southampton road. Unless he had unconsciously shifted the rudder-bar, in which case they might have headed anywhere.

Still, it was a good bet to place Aldershot to the west, and, anyway, it was not possible to go very far on any course in this neighbourhood without reaching houses and people. With this comforting thought in mind Tony collected his wits, which were still rather scattered from the knock he had received on the head, and set out towards where the sunset showed crimson through the wood.

The trees on this side of the field proved to be a belt about fifty yards in width. As he emerged from their shelter Tony found himself at the back of a small estate of some four acres in extent. The gardens and lawns showed every sign of being well tended and it was obvious that the owner was someone of substance.

Climbing a gate in the boundary hedge Tony threaded his way towards the house, which faced an unseen road on the far side of the grounds. He was lucky to find such a big place so handy. There would probably be a telephone but, even if not, there would undoubtedly be servants who could be dispatched in search of assistance.

He had nearly reached the building when a retriever dog came galloping towards him. Its tail was wagging in friendly salute and it exhibited every sign of pleasure at his arrival.

Heartened by this display of hospitality Tony approached a door at one end of the house and knocked boldly. Nothing happened. He knocked again, but still there was no answer. When a third attempt proved fruitless he tried the handle. The door was locked.

“Damn it all; isn’t anyone at home?” he asked the dog, which stood watching him interestedly.

With the hopes he had entertained rapidly dwindling he walked round the building in search of another entrance. At the front he came to a built-out porch, and with the urgency of his mission to goad him he banged heavily on the brass knocker.

Again no one came to receive him, but whilst he was debating the advisability of going in search of another house he suddenly heard voices in a room adjacent to where he was standing.

There was someone in the house, then. But why the devil didn’t they answer?

Annoyed at the inmates’ indifference Tony left the porch with the intention of tapping on the window of the room where the conversation was proceeding. But he had not taken more than a few steps when he realized he would be disturbing a first-class row.

“It’s not a bit of use your protesting,” said someone angrily. “My daughter is entirely outside our bargain. Sooner than see her married to you I would kill you with my bare hands.”

That’s a pleasant idea, thought Tony, and halted to hear the reply.

It came soft as the answer that turneth away wrath.

“You are quite mistaken, my dear Dr. Manners.” The accents were clipped and precise. “Quite mistaken. I regard Hilary as a dear friend, yes, but marriage has never entered my mind. If she should fall in love with me, it would be a different matter——”

“She’ll never fall in love with you, Beney,” interrupted the other contemptuously. “You—a blasted Chi-chi; not if I know her. She’s only polite to you because you’re my partner.”

There was a moment of silence, fraught with tension. Although he could not see the two participants in the argument Tony could imagine that they were staring at each other hatefully. That reference to a Chi-chi would get under any Anglo-Indian’s skin.

The next words showed that he was not mistaken.

“You go too far, Manners.” The suave tones had risen to a high pitch of scarcely restrained fury. “Don’t forget that a word from me will send you to——”

“Can I be of any assistance?”

Startled by the unexpected question Tony spun round to face the speaker. She was a girl in the early twenties, with golden hair and bright blue eyes. Hilary, thought Tony at once, and looked at her more closely. Was she the sort who would tolerate a Eurasian?

Of medium height, she carried herself with a natural grace that hinted at dancing, fencing, riding, and many other active pastimes. But in addition to a healthy figure he judged her to have an equally healthy mind. There was something in the directness of her gaze and the serene tranquillity of her expression that proclaimed the wholesomeness of her character.

Father need have no fears, reflected Tony, and was surprised at the satisfaction the deduction gave him. He had instinctively formed an antipathy towards the unseen half-caste.

Hilary flushed slightly under his prolonged scrutiny.

“Were you looking for someone?” she inquired.

A slight sharpness in her tone betrayed that she had doubts of his bona fides.

“Er—I beg your pardon, Miss—er——” He was on the point of saying Miss Manners, but checked himself in time. To mention her name would imply that he had been eavesdropping and, however justifiable the circumstances, it would be difficult to explain that it was accidental. It might cause her to form a bad opinion of him, and for some reason which was purely instinctive he wanted her to like him.

“There’s been a crash in the field back yonder and I’m seeking assistance. Not being able to make myself heard at the back of the house I came round here.”

Hilary’s eyes travelled searchingly over his clothes. Evidently she was not quite sure whether to believe him. Signs of dishevelment patent to the feminine judgment decided her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said penitently. “I thought——”

She did not disclose what she thought, but hurried to the house door with an air of decision. Opening it with a key from her bag, she disappeared inside.

She re-emerged almost immediately followed by two men.

One was tall and distinguished-looking, with white hair, whom, from his facial resemblance to Hilary, Tony had no difficulty in identifying as the Dr. Manners of the conversation he had overheard.

The other was short and sleek and fat. Except that he had black hair and brown eyes there was nothing about him to indicate his mixed origin. He might have been of any nationality, whilst a general air of benevolence which enveloped him like a cloak belied the threat which Hilary’s arrival had prevented Tony from fully hearing.

To judge from their present demeanour the two men might never have had a cross word in their lives.

“My daughter tells me there’s been an aeroplane accident,” said Dr. Manners briskly. “Where is it? Of course we’ll do everything we can.”

“Is there anyone besides yourself?” inquired the Eurasian blandly.

“Yes, another man.”

Tony suddenly remembered that he had not removed the gun; if the madman had recovered consciousness there might be trouble.

“Er—I think I ought to warn you that he’s an escaped convict.”

He went on to give a brief résumé of the incidents leading up to the crash.

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Manners. “You had a lucky escape, my friend. Hilary, ring up the police-station and have them send some men up here.

“No, not yet,” contradicted Beney. “Let’s have a look at him first. He’s not likely to give us much trouble with a broken arm.”

“But we shall have to call the police sooner or later, Mr. Beney,” protested Hilary.

“Quite true. Very well, then, you make the call whilst we discover the extent of his injuries.”

Under Tony’s direction, the three men hurried across the garden and through the belt of trees. The convict was lying exactly as Tony had left him and was still quite insensible.

“Compound fracture of the right humerus,” pronounced Dr. Manners after a brief examination. “This wound in the skull is even more serious, though; I don’t like the look of it at all.”

“Nor I,” agreed Beney. “We must get him to the house at once.”

He looked round for material from which to improvise a stretcher and caught sight of another man emerging from the trees.

“Ah, here comes Westacott. Good man, Westacott,” he called. “You’ve shown more presence of mind than we did.”

He referred to the stretcher which the newcomer carried over his shoulder.

“The credit belongs to Miss Manners,” declared Westacott dryly. “She unearthed it from the old surgery, I believe. Ah, that looks like a bad depressed fracture of the skull.”

He was a tall spare man with a lantern jaw, who might have been anything from forty to sixty.

Without reference to either of his associates he picked up a fragment of wreckage and bound the injured man’s arm to it as a rough splint. The speed and dexterity of his work decided Tony that he was a surgeon.

“That’ll save unnecessary complications from the journey,” he declared. “Though from the look of his scalp I’m thinking I’m wasting my time. He’s from the B.C.L.A., you say? Poor laddie, it’ll be a happy release for him.”

“Then you don’t think he’ll survive?” queried Tony.

Westacott shook his head.

“That’s beyond my powers of prophecy, young man. We’ll do all we can for him, of course, even though we’re well aware that it’ll only mean sending him back to a living death. It’s the contrariness of the situation that prompted my remark.”

Between them they lifted the patient on to the stretcher and bore him to the house, where they found that Hilary had prepared a bed in readiness to receive him. With at least two doctors in attendance Tony felt he was no longer required, and went downstairs to tell his story to the inspector of police and two constables who had arrived in response to Hilary’s summons.

In exchange for his account of the commandeering of his monoplane the inspector told him something of the convict’s escape. He was a man named Sidney le Maitre, who had been committed to be detained in Broadmoor during His Majesty’s pleasure following a particularly brutal murder.

Ordinarily le Maitre was perfectly harmless and well-behaved and gave the warders a comparatively small amount of trouble. But from time to time at varying intervals he was subject to a neurasthenic brainstorm, when he became exceedingly violent and unmanageable.

One of these attacks had come upon him whilst he was working in the fields with a gang of seven or eight other inmates. The single warder in charge who had tried to restrain him was struck down with a spade. Le Maitre then took the pistol which was in the warder’s pocket and disappeared into the fog.

“Where he found me waiting for him,” concluded Tony ruefully.

He was wondering what Mortimer would have to say about the wreck of his machine.

“Well, all’s well that ends well, sir,” remarked the inspector cheerfully. “He might easily have done you in instead of himself.”

Hilary arrived with a message that the doctors would like to see him upstairs, and the inspector departed. The girl was about to follow, but Tony detained her.

“I’m terribly sorry to be the cause of such an upset in your house,” he apologized.

“It’s perfectly all right—really,” she declared brightly. “No one could possibly mind in the circumstances. It’s unfortunate that we haven’t any servants here, but we shall manage.”

The house, she explained, had only recently come into her father’s possession. A relation who was in practice there had recently died and willed it to him, and she and her father had come down that day for the first time to view it.

“Dr. Westacott is another local practitioner, I suppose?” queried Tony diffidently.

With the conversation he had overheard between Manners and Beney fresh in his mind he was full of curiosity concerning the triumvirate.

“Oh no, he’s not; he and Mr. Beney followed us to spring a surprise party. We all hail from London. Mr. Beney, who is a scientist, is associated with Father in bacteriological research, and Dr. Westacott is in private practice in Paddington.”

Tony smiled.

“The surprise turned out more than they bargained for.”

He was referring to his own intrusion, but she mistook his meaning. Her pretty face clouded.

“Yes, it was. Father was ridiculously annoyed about it. He’s been overworking lately and his nerves are a bit on edge. When you arrived Dr. Westacott and I had gone down to the village to get some food to relieve the situation, but I can’t think why the others didn’t hear you.”

Tony did not enlighten her. But later, as he sat in the train which took him back to London, he could not help wondering whether the threats he had heard uttered with so much venom were really serious.