Читать книгу The House on the Island - Arthur Gask - Страница 3

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THE Chief Commissioner of Police was sitting in his pleasant room in Scotland Yard overlooking the Thames Embankment, but he looked anything but pleasant himself. Instead, he was scowling angrily as he perused the newspaper in his hands.

"Listen to this, Carter," he exclaimed scornfully to a tall spare man about forty years of age, who was gazing meditatively out of the window, "for downright nonsense it's hard to beat." He read slowly so that his subordinate could take in every word.

"Now we want a word with Scotland Yard, and it is time for some plain speaking. We pay our rates and taxes and we are supposed thereby to be living under the protection of the authorities whose salaries and expenses we provide. That is what we imagine, but in reality it would seem that we are living in no security at all. From all that is happening around us we may any day, any hour, any one of us, be among the victims of dark crime. The long arm of the law has ceased to function, and life and property are now apparently the playthings of any miscreant who comes along. For six months the towns and country-side of the Eastern Counties have been terrorised by a bandit who robs and kills upon the slightest provocation. Upon eleven separate occasions since January last we have had to record his deeds of crime. He has attacked banks and private dwelling places and his successes have been as monotonous as have been the failures of the police to apprehend him. Now,—we have a right to ask and we intend to press home our question,—who is this man who hovers like a baleful shadow over the land, what are his resources that he can ride every time through the cordon that surrounds him, and who are his confederates that they can baffle all attempts at their uncovering? We repeat, we have a right to ask, and we add, too, that we have a right to receive a reply. Can it be possible that no answer will be forthcoming, and it will be openly admitted that in this fair land of ours there be jungles of crime from which ferocious beasts of prey may stalk unchallenged, that they may foul their maws in blood and that——"

The Commissioner tossed the newspaper contemptuously on to his desk.

"Bah!" he sneered, "the idiots! Do they imagine then that we keep a private zoo or can turn Crime off with a tap when they become insistent?"

"I think, Sir," sighed his lanky companion. "I think——"

"You've no business to think, Carter," snapped the Commissioner, "it's not laid down in the police regulations. You've——"

There was a knock on the door and a constable entered and handed a letter to the Commissioner.

"Bearer waiting, sir," he said.

"All right," said the Commissioner sharply. "I'll attend to it in a minute," and the constable went out.

"But it is unfortunate, sir," frowned the tall man, "and I don't call to mind when we've been so beaten before. I've put in a solid five weeks now on it myself and yet I cannot say that I've struck anything worth mentioning at all. They just come and go and we just clear up after them," he smiled humorously, "like the housemaids when there's been a party overnight."

"But five murders!" ejaculated the Commissioner. "And the three counties from Norwich to Romford like an armed camp. It's incredible that we can't find out anything."

There was silence for a minute and then the Commissioner, shrugging his shoulders, picked up and opened the letter on his desk.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "from the C.I.D. people in Sydney about the man they've sent over in exchange for our Thomson, for a year." He read down the letter and then he elevated his eyebrows and looked up with a smile.

"Now, Carter," he said drily, "we've got it at last. They've sent over the very man we need. Gilbert Larose."

The tall man sniffed audibly and looked out of the window again.

"The bush-man," he remarked without interest, "the chap that trails them through the desert sand." He screwed up his eyes. "Then I suppose you'll work him at Margate or Southend, sir?"

The Commissioner laughed. "Don't be jealous, Carter. It's no sin that the poor man isn't as clever as you. Still——" And his face took on a serious look. "Still, the fellow's supposed to be quite a genius in his work. Major Boyne told me, in this very room last year, that there never had been such a tracker of crime before. Why, it's proverbial in Australia that Larose can reason back as quickly as he can reason forward, and they say that when a murder's been committed, no matter how long after, he can still see the very shadow that the murderer cast upon the wall." The Commissioner's eyes twinkled. "But, mind you, I don't vouch for that as a fact. I only just mention it as indicating the hold that Larose's successes have given him upon the minds of the people in the Commonwealth." He shook his head. "And, mind you again, Carter, they're a tough, hard-bitten lot over there, and in the wide and uncramped spaces among which they live they have more scope for the play of the instinct than we have over here."

Elias Carter did not seem much impressed.

"Then try him out, sir," he said grimly. "We shall soon see." And he resumed his contemplative meditation through the window.

"And he's a mighty master of disguise, too," went on the Commissioner. "We shall learn a lot from him there. They say he can so alter his appearance by just moving the muscles of his face that his best friends fail to recognise him, even when within a few feet." He touched the bell upon his desk.

"Find out," he said, when the constable appeared, "if Mr. Stone is in the Yard, and, if so, tell him I shall be obliged if he will come here at once."

The man retired, and then Carter took out his watch.

"Well, sir," he said, "I think I'll be going if you have nothing more for me."

"Oh! but I have," exclaimed the Commissioner. "I want you, of course, to meet this Larose. You and Stone, too. You're two of the stars over here, and it would be ungracious not to introduce you to a brother star. Sit down, man, until we are all here."

A couple of minutes later, and an alert-looking man entered the room. He was big and stout, with the real bulldog type of face, and he looked very sure of himself, as if he were always confident and afraid of nothing in the world.

The Commissioner explained the situation.

"I've heard of him," boomed the big, stout man, who answered to the name of Stone. "The best pistol-shot in Australia, they say." He grinned. "He can have a shot at Carter here, sir, with your permission, and if he's not too particular."

"But be polite to him," smiled the Commissioner as he put his finger on the bell, "for I expect he'll be a bit nervous when he knows who you both are."

A minute later, and a boyish-looking man was ushered in. He was of medium height and appeared to be in the late twenties. He had a happy, smiling face, and it seemed just now that he was amused.

With a quick glance he took in the little group before him, and then he stepped straight forward to the Commissioner and took the proffered hand which the latter at once held out to him.

"Oh! then you know me," smiled the Commissioner, "and probably, then, these gentlemen, too?"

"Yes, sir," replied Larose. "They are two of the Big Four—Mr. Stone and Mr. Carter."

"Goodness, gracious!" exclaimed the surprised Commissioner. "Then I suppose you've got all the rest of the Rogues' Gallery at your fingers' ends. But how on earth do you come to have us all so pat?"

"Oh!" replied the young man modestly, "I was hanging about outside the Yard for a few minutes one day last week, with a friend of mine, and he pointed out to me all the celebrities," he smiled happily, "and I don't often forget a face."

There was a thoughtful smile all round, and then Larose, after having shaken hands with the two detectives, was invited to sit down. The detectives eyed him with amused and friendly good humor.

"So, so," said the Commissioner; "then, if you were sightseeing last week, you must have been over here a little time. I was thinking you had only come by the mail boat that arrived yesterday."

"No, sir," replied Larose; "I've been in England a fortnight now. It was part of my holiday, and I was told I needn't report until to-day."

"Well," smiled the Commissioner, "and what do you think of England? Had any adventures yet?"

The detective from Australia laughed. "I had my pocket picked, sir—if you would call that one."

The Commissioner looked sympathetic. "Now, that's real bad luck," he said. "I hope you didn't lose much."

Larose shook his head. "No, he didn't get away with anything. I got back what he had snatched. I saw what he was intending to do, and was ready for him."

"And you gave him in charge?" said the Commissioner.

"Oh, no," exclaimed Larose as if rather surprised. "I took him to dinner with me and since then we've been about quite a lot together." He looked rather sheepish. "You see, sir, it was such an opportunity for me to learn from the opposite camp how you gentlemen here work, for I was able to go into places I could not have got into in any other way; indeed, my light-fingered friend would never have trusted me as he did, if I had not been able to convince him positively by my passport that I was from the Commonwealth, and had only just arrived." Larose sighed. "He believed I was in the same profession as himself, and he introduced me to a relative of his, whom I understand to be a most reliable fence."

"And I suppose," commented the Commissioner with a grin, "that this gentleman then was the friend who pointed us all out to you outside the Yard?"

"Yes," answered Larose, "and he seemed to know everyone. He had nicknames, too, for most of you."

"Ha! ha!" laughed the burly Stone, highly amused, "and did he call me 'Smike'?"

"Yes," assented Larose, "and Mr. Carter, 'Smudge.'" They all joined in the general laughter, and then the Commissioner asked—-

"And from what you've read," he bowed and smiled, "and from what you've seen, how do you think crime here compares with crime in Australia? Very much the same kind of stuff, isn't it?"

Larose nodded. "Yes, much the same, sir, except that the team-work here is more dangerous, and appears to be much more difficult to uncover. The high-class gangsters with us are nearly all importations, and we get news of their coming and so are able to keep an eye on them from the first moment when they disembark. Besides, they haven't the same facilities for moving about that they have here. Now take this present trouble you are having in the eastern counties, for instance. It seems——"

"Ah!" interrupted the Commissioner, "then you are interested in our little local affairs, are you? You have heard of the Iron Man?"

"Oh, yes," replied Larose, smiling. "We got plenty of details over in Australia, and besides——" he hesitated a moment, "I spent my first two days here going through the newspaper files. The problem is most interesting."

"Too interesting," sighed the Commissioner sadly. He tapped the newspaper on his desk. "The public are thirsting for our blood."

"Well, sir, may I ask," said Larose respectfully, "have you any information that is not known outside?"

The Commissioner regarded him very thoughtfully, as if he were weighing him up.

"No, Mr. Larose," he said after a moment, "I'll be quite frank with you, as you are going to be one of us. We have found out nothing at all, absolutely nothing, and if you have read the newspapers, then——" he sighed again, "you are quite as well informed as we are, in every respect. This man is quite unknown to us. He and his associates rob and kill, and then——" he shrugged his shoulders, "they just vanish away as if they had never been. But listen," he went on, "and I'll state the exact position from out point of view, and then perhaps you'll appreciate the difficulty we are in." He settled himself back in his chair and spoke impressively. "Now these men, we are sure, constitute a highly organised band, and are men of courage and resource. They are apparently led by an individual whom the public shudder delightedly to call 'The Iron Man.' He is known as that, because upon three occasions one of the band, and the one undoubtedly directing operations, has been seen with his face masked in a covering of the color of rusty iron. Now, these men specialise in holding up lonely country houses. They have robbed two branch banks certainly, but in all the other instances it has been houses standing in their own grounds that have received their attentions. Lonely houses, I say, and in the eastern counties they could not possibly have chosen a better field for their operations, for in Essex, Norfolk, and Suffolk we have hundreds of old-world villages with each one giving shelter in its vicinity to one or more park-like estates in the possession of people of means. Well, these wretches strike like lightning, hold up a house at any hour of the night, abstract all the valuables they are after, proceed to instant violence if they meet with any opposition—they have five murders to their credit—and then immediately decamp without leaving a trace of their identity behind. Sometimes, twice, they have burgled a mansion without the occupants being aware of anything unusual until they have got up the next morning. But in all cases it has been the same. A lightning stroke and a lightning disappearance, and not a clue to be picked up anywhere. And they strike in all directions, too, as you have read. East Dereham, and North Walsham, in Norfolk, Wickham Market and Debenham, in Suffolk, and seven times in different places in Essex." The Commissioner thumped his first upon the desk. "And do our utmost, we can light on nothing that can help us to uncover their trail. For many weeks now it has not been a matter of the country constabulary only; it has been raised to the importance of a general call, and the best talent we have in the Yard and the most astute brains in the kingdom have been called into requisition to find out who they are. Yes, who are these men, we ask ourselves; how do they get away, and where is the lair in which they hide?"

The Commissioner spread out his hands. "It is not as if we were not prepared. It is not as if we were now caught unawares. We act every night now as if we were expecting another raid, and between dusk and dawn you could not cross any main arterial road in the three counties without being challenged and having to give an account of yourself. We can't think how they manage to get away, for from the widely separated places where they have operated they must some nights have travelled long distances to get under cover when their foul work is done." The Commissioner sighed for the third time. "It is most perplexing."

Larose spoke very quietly. "I notice, Sir," he said hesitatingly, "I notice that now they seem to be working further south and are avoiding any places near the big towns."

"Yes," replied the Commissioner grimly, "and you want to see the houses that have been raided lately to realise how easy it was to isolate them from immediate help. One snip at the telephone wires and the victims were prevented from getting in touch with our men for the best part of an hour." He raised his voice angrily. "And the devilish part is, the wretches always appear to have everything so well prepared. They know when there is anything worth taking, they apparently have got the plans of every house that they enter, and they go straight to their mark with the least delay possible." He frowned at Larose. "But you shall be taken to one or two of the places and then you will see the difficulties we have to meet." He smiled sadly. "It will be an education for you."

There was a moment's silence, and then Larose gave a slight cough.

"But I've seen some of them already, Sir," he said; he hesitated, "in fact I've visited them all except one. At Thorpe Court the gates were chained and the lodge-keeper was very rude and refused to let me in."

All eyes were turned instantly upon the speaker and the Commissioner sat bolt upright in his chair.

"You've been to see them!" he exclaimed. "When? What for?"

The Australian detective got rather red. "Well, sir," he said slowly, "it was like this. I was most interested in the matter for it was a problem after my own heart. I had a week to spare, and so I thought I couldn't do better than make a few investigations and see the English countryside at the same time."

A moment's frown and then the Commissioner looked with some amusement at his subordinates.

"Our friend is a live wire, gentlemen," he said smilingly, "and if we don't look out, he'll beat us on our ground."

The detectives smiled, too, and then the meditative Carter asked drily.

"And did you find out anything then, Mr. Larose, anything worth noting?"

Gilbert Larose looked blandly at his interrogator.

"Oh, yes," he replied innocently, "one or two things struck me, but, of course I hadn't the time to follow them up. I thought I might do that later."

The Commissioner looked down his nose as if he were amused.

"And what were they, Mr Larose?" he asked. "That is, of course, if you don't mind us cross-examining you?" He flashed a quick look at Elias Carter. "You may have picked up something that has escaped us."

"Well," said Larose slowly. "I saw that three of those country houses had been painted recently and that the chimney cowls on two of them were new and of the same pattern."

"Ah!" exclaimed the Commissioner, and then there was a puzzled silence in the room.

"Yes," went on Larose. "Laytham Hall, near Hadleigh, the Manor House in Sudbury, and White Notley Towers have all had the decorators in since Christmas, and when I enquired in the villages, I found in all three cases that it was the same firm in Colchester that had done the work, Smith and Rattery, of Wall-street." His voice became almost apologetic in its tones. "I was thinking, therefore, that perhaps it might be one of their workmen who had prepared the plans of these houses for the burglaries. The coincidences struck me as peculiar, particularly so, because the three houses I have mentioned are situated such a long distance apart."

"Ah," again from the Commissioner and it seemed as if his colleagues were now holding in their breaths.

"Then, another thing," said Larose, and he spoke softly and almost as if he were meditating to himself, "in reading that account of the raid at Witham Court where the dancers were held up in the ballroom by the Iron Man, one of the guests told a pressman afterwards that the robber, as he menaced them with his pistol, stood very firmly on his feet. That means, of course, that he stood with his legs rather wide apart, and it suggested to me at once a man who has followed the sea. Seafaring men, I have always noticed, are given to standing that way, no doubt to accommodate themselves to the swaying of the ship. So my thoughts were turned at once to boats and moving waters, and I saw then that all the last seven raids had occurred at places within reasonable distance of somewhere where easy access could be got to the sea when the tides were high. There was always some river or some creek not very far away. Then I found——" and here Larose smiled with the happiness of a boy. "I found that they had all happened near the top of a flowing tide. I mean all the raids had taken place when the tide was coming in up the rivers and the inlets of the sea and was nearly at its highest point. Never when the tide was low or had been going down for some time. So I thought——" he looked smilingly around, "I thought that perhaps our criminal friends had got their headquarters somewhere near some river bank or some estuary, and that therefore whenever they had been operating anywhere, they had afterwards made straight for some boat or motor launch moored in some lonely spot, and, helped by the state of the tide, had got down to the sea somewhere and had ultimately reached home by water without having had to face the risks of traversing any main patrolled roads." Larose shrugged his shoulders. "At least, those were the ideas that came to me."

He stopped speaking, and a long silence followed. Elias Carter had lost interest in what was going on outside the window, and was sitting now with his eyes fixed intently upon Larose. The burly Stone was frowning and staring hard at Larose, too, and the Commissioner had got a look that was almost an angry one, upon his face. He was the first to break the silence.

"Give me down the special map of Essex, Mr. Carter," he said brusquely, "and the book of the tides, too. They are both over there on the shelf."

He spread out the map upon his desk, and then turned to Larose.

"Now, sir," he said sharply, "kindly come over here," he nodded to the other detectives, "and you gentlemen, too. We'll soon see how this idea works out. It seems to me there may be something in it."

They all bent over the map. It was a large ordnance one, a mile to the inch and Larose saw it was marked in places with circles and crosses in red ink. There was also some writing on it, and what looked like notes and memoranda down the sides.

"Now, Mr. Larose," said the Commissioner grimly, "this constitutes as far as Essex is concerned, the dossier of the Iron Man's crimes. Those circles mark the places where he has made his raids, and the figures in them show their sequence, the dates, and, as far as we can determine with any accuracy, the exact hour when in each case he appeared upon the scene." He spoke with suppressed excitement. "Now, we'll test your theory. Witham Court was the first house to be held up, and there, he killed as well as robbed. He pistolled Colonel Holt, because he didn't at once hold up his hands. A dastardly action, because the old man was very deaf, and didn't hear the order given. Well, Witham Court, first." He pointed with his pencil, and then ran it down the map. "Collier's Reach on the River Blackwater, nearest water, and about nine miles away Collier's Beach, two miles from town of Maldon." He pointed again to the red circle. "Raid took place on Thursday, March 13, at 10.45 p.m. Now for the state of the tide." He turned quickly over the pages of the book of 'Tides.' "J. K. O. M.—here we are Maldon. Now for the date,—March 11th. 12th. 13th. March 13th.—High water, 11.50 p.m. Now for the raid number two. Sir Joseph Webster's place near Bures Green, on April 3. River Stour probably the take-off here, and Seafield Creek the nearest spot, about sixteen miles away. The town of Manningtree, three miles from Seafield Creek. Raid at Sir Joseph's, in the middle of the night at 2.30 a.m." He consulted the Tide Book. "High water at half-past four. Now for the raid number three. Great Baddon Manor House this time. April 26 the date. Clement's Green creek on River Crouch, nearest water about—say nine miles away. Raid at 9 p.m. exactly, when the servants were having supper, and high water at Burnham-on-Crouch at 10.25."

And then, one by one, the Commissioner ticked off his circles with comments and references to the Tide Book until they were all done, and then he drew a long breath and sighed heavily. He leant back in his chair, and, turning round his head, stared thoughtfully out of the window, as if his only interest in life now were the majestic waters of the Thames. A hushed stillness followed, to be broken presently, however, by a gruff chuckle from the detective, Stone.

"A bull's-eye, sir," he exclaimed to the Commissioner; "in fact two of them, I believe." He smiled humorously at Larose. "This young fellow is a credit to the little place where he was born."

The Chief Commissioner awoke abruptly from his reverie, and, for the moment, frowned as if he were annoyed in some way; then, he, too, smiled, and in a gracious movement inclined his head towards Larose.

"Excellent, Mr. Larose," he said. "You've given us something to think over, and both your ideas shall be followed up. At any rate, now we don't seem to be at quite such a dead-end. What do you say, Mr. Carter? You've been on the business, as you reminded me a few minutes ago, exclusively for over five weeks, and you ought to know."

The solemn-looking Carter spoke very deliberately. "Mr. Larose is a thinker, sir," he said, "and he's seen things, too, that we have overlooked. I shall be glad to have him help if you'll put him with me."

"Certainly I will," replied the Commissioner, "and he shall start at once."

Elias Carter went on. "I don't want to make any excuses, sir, but in fairness to myself and those who have worked under me, Mr. Larose has had an advantage that we never had. He has seen all the outrages as a complete whole, whereas we saw them one by one, and did not consequently get the same clear perspective that he did."

"Yes, that is so," said Larose quickly. "The ideas would have never come to me if I hadn't, so to speak, seen the places all at once." He shook his head doubtfully. "Besides, I may be quite wrong."

"No, lad, I don't think you are," said Carter grimly. "It strikes me you're darned right."

"Well," said the Commissioner, briskly, "you know every inch of Essex, Mr. Carter. Now, whereabouts do you think they ran to?"

"Know every inch of Essex!" growled Carter. "Fifteen hundred and thirty square miles, with a hundred miles and more of coastline with more creeks, too, than there are days of the year; creeks of unexplored mud and slime. You know every inch of Essex!"

"Well," laughed the Commissioner, "you soon ought to. You and Mr. Larose can quickly cover a lot of ground with the energy you've both got."

"Sir," replied Carter gravely, "if there's anything in what our friend has suggested, we are faced with a very big problem to trail these men, for some of the spots you have mentioned as the likely places where they took to the water are a mighty distance apart. Seafield Bay, on the River Stow, opposite Manningtree, for instance, is separated from Benfield Creek below Leigh-on-sea by at least eighty miles of water frontage, eighty miles of river-bank and coast, and every mile, almost, indented with little muddy creeks that run up into the land until they peter out, a day's tramp away, in some dirty little ditch. These men, if they have their hiding-place in some creek, as Mr. Larose thinks, and as I now am inclined to think, too, have a comparatively speaking easy job to run to cover after each raid. They can drift down some river or creek as the tide ebbs and then make at leisure for their den, hours after when the tide is flowing in again." He shook his head. "No, the first clue we must follow is that of the man in the employ of the decorating firm. We must uncover him if possible, and through him, get to the others. At least that's what I think."

The Commissioner looked thoughtful. "But how do we imagine," he asked, "they get to the water after each raid? What is your idea, Mr. Larose?"

"Push bikes, perhaps," answered Larose, "or in some very ordinary and inconspicuous way. A high-powered motor car would be the last thing that I should think they would use. Probably they separate, too, and go singly by different ways."

The telephone on the Commissioner's desk tinkled suddenly, and he picked it up. His face darkened instantly, and he flashed a look round on the others in the room.

"Another one!" he exclaimed hoarsely, with the receiver still to his ear. "Raid number twelve and in Essex, again."

"Yes, yes," he said into the mouthpiece. "Great Oakley. The private asylum belonging to Dr. Shillington. Good God! What a place to choose!" There was silence for a minute, and he pencilled quickly on his blotting pad. "Yes, we'll come straight away. Now, listen, this is urgent. Send out a special call instantly for every private launch or sailing boat coming from seaward and passing Harwich, Brightlingsea, or up the Blackwater or the Crouch, to be stopped and gone through, unless their occupants are known locally. No, no—hold on a minute——" The Commissioner turned to the detectives and spoke rapidly. "Now, is that wise? We may be too late this time. The raid was made last night, they say, and a man was murdered, but the news has only just come through. Now if we draw blank, we shall spoil all future chances, for it will be found out in which direction we are working, and it will put the wretches on their guard. No, I'll alter that." He spoke into the receiver again. "No, no stopping anyone, but pass the call for any incoming launches to be secretly marked down and their direction and probable destinations specially noted. Got that? No launches or sailing boats to know that they have been watched. All right, then, we'll be coming at once." He hung up the receiver.

"More trouble, more trouble," he sighed, "and the public will be getting their knives into us deeper than ever." His face brightened, and he went on briskly—"But, at any rate, now, we've got another chance, a typical outrage carried out in their usual way. They raided Dr. Shillington's private asylum near Great Oakley, it is believed late last night, murdering the butler and getting away with some very valuable old silver. The murder and burglary were only discovered this morning at half-past 8, and it was not until 9.15 that they got the news in Colchester. Now where exactly is Great Oakley?" and he looked down on the map.

"There it is," pointed Elias Carter promptly, "about two miles from the coast and three miles south of the River Stour, and one of the most Godforsaken places you could ever want. It's right out of the world. I've been near the village, though, once when I was on a holiday and I heard all about the asylum."

"And Shillington's our biggest mental specialist?" went on the Commissioner. "I know him myself."

"And I do, too," said Stone drily. "An unpleasant man. I met him in the Hawtrey case last year. He's a Harley-street consultant, but the asylum belongs to him. It's a big place I understand, and he's got 30 or 40 patients down there, and they all pay through the nose. He only touches rich people."

The Commissioner rose to his feet. "Well, off you go, Mr. Carter, at once, and I think as you know Dr. Shillington, you'd better go, too, Mr. Stone, if you will." He turned to Larose. "And you, of course, sir, you'll go as well. I'll assign you to Mr. Carter, and you'll work with him." He smiled. "But I expect he'll give you as free a hand as you may want, for he's a reasonable man, and not half as foolish as you might imagine from his appearance."