Читать книгу Green Hazard - Cyril Henry Coles - Страница 6

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Tommy Hambledon climbed carefully over the wooden fence, left his inconspicuous scaling ladder hanging there in case he wished to leave the premises in a hurry, and looked carefully about him.

“I don’t think this was a good idea,” he said to himself, for Hambledon was always nervous at the outset of an adventure. “Invading fortresses singlehanded is not really in my line, especially at my age. Thank goodness the sky is clearing; it’s getting quite starlight now. There’s the long barn away on the left there. Denton says it’s a store. Denton ought to be doing this, not me; he’d enjoy it. I wonder if the place is festooned with trip wires attached to loud electric bells. It was a good thing that iron fence wasn’t electrified, or was it? If it had been I should have bounced backward off it into the edelweiss, or whatever the local weeds are called, and could then have picked myself up and gone home to bed; how lovely. Straight across from here, avoiding the ancient pond, and we reach what Denton says is the blighter’s workshop. No, there don’t seem to be any wires. I wonder what time Herr Ulseth goes to bed. I have a nasty feeling it’s too early; an hour later would have been better. And about ten years later better still. This is where they dump their empty tins. I avoid that with care. Or shall I kick them about and miaow loudly, hoping that Ulseth will think the cats are having a night out and take no notice of further noises? Better not; perhaps the Servatsch cats sing differently from English ones. I wonder why I always get such ridiculous ideas on these occasions—wind up, no doubt. Here is a stone wall; what—if anything—is waiting for me on the other side, and if I stick my head over will somebody biff it? Perhaps there’s a gap in it round this corner—there is. Good. Now for the workshop. Better work round behind it in case there’s anyone about, though I see no light in the windows. Great care is indicated.”

Hambledon crouched down and crept round behind the building—merely a substantial outhouse which was once a stable. He felt his way with his finger tips on the ground, in case of unseen obstructions, and reached the last corner abutting on the front of the building. Here he dropped to his knees and put his head cautiously round the corner.

Something cold touched the back of his neck, and he started violently as a harsh voice behind him said, “Hands up! And get up.” The language used was German.

“I can’t possibly hands up and get up at the same time,” said Tommy plaintively. “I want my hands to get up with.”

“Get up, then,” said the voice, “but no monkey tricks. Now, hands up. Walk forward slowly—— No, not that way. Turn half right, down that path to the house.” The owner of the voice switched on a small electric torch, and Tommy’s shadow moved before him along a concrete path and up four steps to the front door of the house. At this point the revolver was removed from the back of his neck and placed against his spine in the neighborhood of his waist instead, a move which in Hambledon’s opinion was no improvement at all.

“Have I the honor to address Herr Ulseth?” he asked politely.

“You have,” said the voice, and immediately shouted, “Joachim!”

“I am so glad,” said Hambledon. “I came here on purpose to see you.”

“It seemed like it,” said Ulseth sarcastically, “crawling round my place on your hands and knees. Joachim! Joachim!”

“Perhaps he’s asleep,” said Tommy helpfully. “Shall I ring the bell?”

“Keep your hands up!” snapped Ulseth. “Joachim!”

There came a sound from within of heavy footsteps down a stone passage, and the door opened.

“In!” said Ulseth. “Turn left. Wait. Joachim, switch the lights on.” The servant did so, and Hambledon walked forward into a bare room furnished with a large table and a few hard chairs. Ulseth followed, still menacing him with the revolver, while Joachim awaited further instructions by the door. Hambledon turned and saw Ulseth for the first time: a nondescript, medium-sized man with a beard and fish-like eyes.

“I owe you,” said Hambledon courteously, “a sincere apology for my unceremonious entry, but——”

“Don’t bother to apologize.”

“Oh, but I must. You see, it doesn’t seem much good ringing at your gate.”

“No?”

“No. Nobody is admitted, are they?”

“Has it not occurred to you that that might be because I do not desire visitors?” said Ulseth.

“Oh, quite. But until you met me you couldn’t know whether you would enjoy meeting me or not,” said Tommy logically.

“Sit down in that chair,” said Ulseth peremptorily, “Joachim, get the rope out of the hall. Just behind you, on the settle. That’s right. Now tie him to the chair. Round his waist and round the back of the chair. Now tie his arms to the back of the chair too—— Cut the rope, idiot! That’s right. Now his legs to the front chair legs. That will do; you may go.”

“Will you want me again tonight?” asked Joachim.

“I don’t think so; you can go to bed. If I do want you, you can always get up again.”

Joachim went out without another word, but as he shut the door he threw a look at his master which was not one of affection, and it occurred to Tommy that here might be an ally.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said politely. “Theophilus Hartzer of Zurich, traveler for the Heroas Wagon Company of Zurich.”

“Really,” said Ulseth. “Now what would a fat little drummer of the Heroas Wagon Company want with the Herr Professor Ulseth so badly that he scales fences in the dark to reach him?”

Tommy winced slightly. “Fat” was unfair. More, it was untrue.

“The fact is——” he began.

“The fact is,” interrupted Ulseth; “that you are no more a traveler for a wagon company than I am. You are one of these blasted Swiss detectives, that’s what.”

He walked across to the helpless Hambledon and went through his pockets, taking out all his papers and his automatic.

“I am nothing of the sort,” said Hambledon indignantly, “and your behavior is an outrage.”

“This is quite a nice passport,” said Ulseth, taking no notice. “It seems to have visas for every country in Europe except the principality of Montenegro.”

“Naturally,” said Hambledon coldly. “Travelers generally travel a good deal. Look here, Herr Ulseth, you are making a big mistake. I have come here with a proposition to put before you.”

Ulseth crossed the room to a cracked and discolored mirror on the wall and looked from his own reflection to the passport photograph and back again.

“I have no interest in wagons,” he said, “except passenger wagons en route for the nearest frontier. I am going to leave, Herr—what is it?—Hartzer, and I think this will help me. Absurd things, passport photographs, don’t you think? Really, this one will do quite well for me if I clip my beard a bit and thin out my eyebrows. Yours are scanty; deficiency of thyroid, you know.”

“I have come here,” said Hambledon again, “to make you an offer on behalf of a certain government for the formula of an explosive which I understand you have discovered. That is, if upon investigation the formula——”

“So you’re the agent of a foreign power now, are you?” said Ulseth sarcastically. “I thought you traveled for a——”

“So I do,” interrupted Hambledon. “I am merely a messenger sent here to open negotiations since I know the district well.”

“Oh,” said Ulseth. He laid down the passport and opened a wallet he had taken from Hambledon’s pocket. “Printed cards, introducing Herr Theophilus Hartzer of the Heroas Wagon Company. They might be useful; I’ll take those too. A letter from the firm authorizing a fortnight’s sick leave on full pay—a nice firm, evidently. I trust your health is now quite restored. Not that it will matter much by tomorrow morning anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you see? If I resemble you, you also resemble me. Not a startling likeness, but enough to pass, especially after a regrettable explosion. Poor dear Professor Ulseth is going to have a disastrous accident tonight, and his mangled remains can be sorted out by the police tomorrow morning. Any little discrepancies will be put down to the effects of the explosion. I have enough TNT in the cellars of this house to blow the whole place to bits, let alone alter the shape of your nose. Anyway, nobody here knows me well, and the police only saw me once. It is really quite providential—for me—that you should wear a beard. Funny to think that if you’d been clean-shaven you might have lived a lot longer, isn’t it? I’ll have your automatic too; it might come in useful. It’s a nice one, pity to destroy it.”

Hambledon was seized with a spasm of remorse, such as had never afflicted him about any of his sins, for having given way to a beard at all. It seemed such a good idea in London, but now——

“I have been considering for some time how to arrange my unobtrusive departure,” went on Ulseth, “and have made certain preparations already. The explosion is all ready for use. I did think I should have to be blown to pieces without leaving a trace, but that was not very satisfactory. Some of the people whom I wish to deceive have unpleasantly suspicious minds, and if they did not find anything of me at all, they might conclude that I wasn’t here at the time. Then they would go on looking for me, and I don’t want them to. I want them to go home satisfied, and when they’ve examined your remnants I am sure they will. I hope there will be some remnants, by the way. I wonder whether I’d better move you to another room not directly over the cellar?”

“You are a cold-blooded scoundrel,” said the indignant Hambledon, “and if I can manage it I’ll haunt you. You will look well with a dismembered commercial traveler accompanying you everywhere you go.”

Ulseth looked at him and laughed. “Really, I’m sorry I’ve got to kill you,” he said. “You deserve to live for a remark like that, I am quite glad your end will be so sudden as to be practically painless. Would you like to hear how it will be arranged? Just a moment while I run through the rest of your things. Handkerchief—no mark on it. Bunch of three keys—your luggage, of course. I’d forgotten your luggage; naturally you will have to disappear too—abscond is the right word for you. Hotel bedroom key with admirable metal tab, Hotel des Trois Couronnes, Servatsch, p.d. Zurich, Switzerland; room number fifteen. I must visit room number fifteen on my way to the railway station. If your luggage disappears, it will add color to the idea that you have fled. I expect Herr Hartzer is in financial difficulties if one only knew. Gambling or women, Hartzer?”

“Both,” said Hambledon without hesitation.

“Well done. I like you more and more. Your sense of——”

“Your sentiments are not reciprocated,” said Tommy, “and if I get out of this alive I will look for you till I find you and then I’ll saw your head off with a meat saw without an anesthetic.”

“Cruel,” said Ulseth, “very cruel. Now, I’m not cruel, only practical. You had better have my passport and a few odd letters—bills mostly. If you do come out of this alive, you might pay them, will you? I can’t. An appropriate thank offering,” he went on, putting his papers into Hambledon’s pockets. “You may have my cards too—in fact, my wallet and all. I’ll take the money out; you won’t want it where you’re going, and I shall. Excuse me a moment; I’ll fetch the simple apparatus. It might interest you to see how it’s going to be worked.”

Ulseth walked toward the door and stopped suddenly.

“I am a fool,” he said. “I hope no one else ever finds that out, but I am. Of course you have got to have my clothes on, and I had better have yours. The effects of blast are notoriously uncertain: you may be blown into atoms or you may sail through the air all in one piece and finish up on the spire of Servatsch church. I expect your clothes will be blown off you, but they may as well find the right ones, if they find any. This means calling Joachim again. He won’t like it, but that doesn’t matter.”

“I think you talk more than any man I’ve ever met,” said Hambledon contemptuously. “Why not discuss the offer I am empowered to make you? It’s quite a good offer. Your formula——”

“Because, you poor fool, there isn’t any formula. I know no more about chemistry than you could learn from a handbook given away with Our Boys’ Chemistry Outfit in a cardboard box. Well, a little more, because I had to talk intelligently to those Swedes. I found it a strain, believe me. No, all this is merely a scheme for getting money out of the Swedes, and quite successful, too. So now you know all my dark secrets, we will get on with the arrangements.” He left the room, and Hambledon heard him go down the passage toward the back of the house and call Joachim again. Ulseth’s voice sounded hollow, as though the place were bare and empty.

He called several times and then stopped. Presumably there had been an answer, though Hambledon did not hear it. “It doesn’t sound as though it would be much good yelling for Joachim from here when Ulseth goes,” he said to himself. “My brain’s going; of course he’ll take Joachim with him.” He strained at his bonds, but they did not yield enough to do any good. His automatic had gone away in Ulseth’s pocket; otherwise he might have struggled toward the table and got it somehow.

“If I were a pessimist I should think I was sunk,” he said, and thrust the thought from him. There were voices returning along the passage. They sounded quite friendly; presumably Ulseth had thought it worth while to pacify the aggrieved Joachim.

“I see,” said the servant’s voice. “And then we makes off, do we?”

“That’s it,” said Ulseth. “This won’t take long, and then you can go upstairs and pack.” The men entered the room, and Ulseth stripped off his suit and stood up in his underwear.

“I wonder whether your underclothes are marked,” he said. “If not, this is as far as we need go. We’ll have a look in a minute.” He leveled his own revolver at Hambledon again and said, “Go ahead, Joachim. Untie him. Not all at once, legs first.” He was very careful never to let Joachim get into his line of fire. “You must excuse Joachim if he is awkward; he has not had much practice at valeting. I should not struggle with him, either, if I were you; he is liable to kick if he is annoyed.”

Hambledon’s trousers were pulled off and the rope round his waist slackened to get Ulseth’s on instead; it was something of a struggle, as they were a little too tight. “I can’t do up these two top buttons,” said Joachim, gasping.

“Never mind,” said Ulseth. “Herr Hartzer has put on weight a little during his holiday—it often happens. Now tie his legs again and we’ll start at the top.”

Hambledon made the process as long and awkward as possible without appearing to do so. There was no sense in resisting violently; they would only stun him or shoot him, and nothing would be gained thereby. Eventually coat and waistcoat came off, and Joachim removed collar and tie to look for marks on them and on the shirt and vest. There were none.

“Good,” said Ulseth. “Now dress him up and we’re done.” When the job was finished and Hambledon trussed up again, the servant prepared to leave the room.

“Just a minute,” said Ulseth, in shirt sleeves and Hambledon’s trousers with the braces dangling. “I think you deserve a drink—we’ll just have one for the road.” He went across to a corner cupboard, and Hambledon could hear the chink of glasses and the sound of liquid being poured.

“Well, here’s luck on our journey,” said Ulseth, and drank.

“Salut,” said Joachim, and sipped it. “This is very strong wine, surely.”

“It only seems so when you first taste it,” said Ulseth. “It has no ill effects.”

Joachim drank again. “It is very pleasant. Is this a long journey we are going?”

“No, no. Not really. You will be surprised to find how soon you arrive. Drink up now and then go upstairs and pack.”

The servant obeyed. He staggered a little as he reached the door, caught at the doorpost in passing out, and failed to latch the door properly. It swung open again, and the sound of his footsteps could be heard along the passage, irregular and seeming to slow down. They persisted, however, and died away in the distance. Ulseth listened with his head a little on one side and a smile on his thin lips.

“Poor dear Joachim,” he remarked. “Stupid, and becoming tiresome. He had outlived his usefulness.”

“You disgusting murderer,” said Hambledon.

“Oh, don’t say that. He is as much a necessary part of the local color of my great explosion as you are—even more so. One must not neglect details, and Joachim’s body cannot be missing, you must see that. Besides, he has a chance—a small one. I have not poisoned him, only given him a little something to make him sleep. So it will be no good your yelling for him when you are alone; he will probably hear no more until the Last Trump,” went on Ulseth, putting his papers, passport, cards and wallet, pocketknife, and other small items back in the pockets of the suit Hambledon was wearing. “I seem to have wasted a lot of time swapping these things about from one pocket to another, but there is plenty of time. My train doesn’t leave till a quarter past four, and it’s only half-past one now. I will now explain my simple apparatus; no time to show it to you. You know the German stick bomb? It is a hand grenade with a wooden handle rather like a stonecutter’s maul, and in the end of the handle is a string you pull when you are about to throw it. I suppose, the Swiss being neutrals in the last war, you didn’t have occasion to meet one. The pulling of the string ignites the fuse, which in due course does the rest. Well, if you have followed me so far, now imagine a stick bomb fastened securely to a board, upon the other end of which is an alarm dock also screwed down. This neat contrivance is placed near the TNT in the cellar below us. The clock is one of those cheap alarm things your countrymen turn out in such quantities; when the bell rings, the alarm winder at the back revolves. Now imagine the string of the bomb tied to the alarm winder, which I shall set for four forty-five. At that moment—some three hours hence—the bell will ring downstairs, and if you listen carefully I expect you’ll hear it. The winder will revolve, pulling the string of the bomb. Four seconds later your troubles will, I trust, be over. I shall be in the train heading for Germany, where I might take up your appointment as traveler for the Heroas people unless something better offers itself. I believe you are only a commercial traveler after all; no detective would have been caught so easily, not even a Swiss one. Besides, you had no official card. I wish you had; it might have been fun to use it—outside Switzerland. It wouldn’t give one any authority, of course, only a sort of official status.”

“If you keep on talking much longer,” said Hambledon wearily, “you’ll miss the train.”

“Oh no. I’ve only got to wind up the alarm, walk down to the Trois Couronnes and pick up your luggage, and stroll gently on to the station. Still, perhaps it’s time I made a move.”

Ulseth went out of the room, and Hambledon heard him open a door in the passage and run down some stairs. Five minutes later he came back again and stood in the doorway looking in.

“Well, I think that’s all I can do for you,” he said cheerfully. “You will be called at four forty-five sharp.”

“Does the clock keep good time?”

“You are a cool hand,” said Ulseth admiringly. “Er—would you like a drink? I’ll get you one if you like.”

“No, thanks,” said Hambledon coldly. “For a commercial traveler, I’ve always been rather particular whom I drank with.”

“Hell blast you!”

“And remember this. The time will come when you will regret this. Look at this room again a moment, look at me, and remember this scene when you die screaming.”

Ulseth turned white, stared round the room, avoiding Hambledon’s eye, and bolted out of the house without waiting to lock the front door after him.

“And I hope that comes true,” said Hambledon aloud. “Don’t know what made me say it; it just seemed to come to me. Now then, I’ve got three hours to get away from this house.” He began very carefully to wriggle in his bonds.

At the end of half an hour he had loosened his right arm enough to move it six inches from the side of the chair at the expense of tying up his left arm so tightly that the circulation left it. Then he began to wriggle his feet down toward the floor. Joachim had lifted them off the ground when he tied the ropes.

There was a cuckoo clock somewhere in the back premises which called three times just after he got his left toe on the floor.

“If I could hear that thing ticking,” said Tommy, “I should go mad.” The sweat ran off his nose and dripped on to Ulseth’s waistcoat.

At half-past three he had got both feet on the ground and, balancing himself very carefully, he began to shuffle forward, walking the chair with him. It would never do to overbalance forward; if he once fell on his face he was done. He had to stop frequently because his leg bonds constricted with the strain and he lost all feeling in his feet. Then he had to sit and wait for the pins and needles to arise, sting, and subside again before he could shuffle on a few inches more.

When the cuckoo clock struck four he was almost at the doorway, and excitement made him careless. He fell back on the chair’s hind legs so roughly that he nearly went over, and his heart almost stopped beating with the fright.

Once in the doorway, it was easier, for he had the wall to help him to balance, and he reached the front door in what seemed like a few moments. Then there came the business of getting the door open. It took him an endless age of struggling to get hold of a handle he could scarcely reach; when he did his hand was so wet with perspiration he could not turn the knob.

At last he managed it, and there came the dreadful business of pulling the door open toward him and getting round its edge. Surely the time must be past; perhaps the alarm clock had stopped. Twice he nearly went over.

He was out of the door at last, on the little platform at the top of the four steps. The night wind blew refreshingly on his face and the stars still shone overhead.

“So far, so good,” said Hambledon, drawing a long breath, “though how on earth I’m going to get down those steps——”

At that moment a shrill bell somewhere below him began to ring. Hambledon shuffled to the edge, threw himself down the steps anyhow, chair and all, and tried to roll.

There was a blinding flash and a great heave upward——