Читать книгу Unneutral Murder - Footner Hulbert - Страница 4

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During lunch on the sixth day after leaving New York, an electrical impulse suddenly went through the dining saloon of the Dom Joäo III, and the passengers started jumping up and running to the portholes. From table to table the word travelled: “The Azores!”

Like a magical apparition, while they ate, the silhouette of an island had risen from the empty sea; startling, inexplicable, there in the middle of the great waste of water they had become accustomed to, a bundle of mountain shapes tied together.

On deck after the meal, the island had drawn appreciably closer. The lower slopes now showed a delicate green verging upward into misty blue summits. Ronald Franklin, standing with his friends, the Stanleys, beside the rail, gazed at the island through his expensive binoculars.

“That’s not Sao Miguel where we’re supposed to be bound for,” he said, lowering his glasses. “Looks to me like the island of Flores to the north. We’re off our course.” The young man’s face never lost its smooth look, but there were moments when the flesh seemed to harden under his shaven cheeks.

Lee and William Miller were not surprised by the appearance of Flores out of the sea, because during inspection that morning Captain Gonçalves had told them he was altering his course.

“I have been instructed by my office to put you ashore at the town of Horta for a brief visit,” he said.

“That’s right,” said Lee. “Please radio Horta the expected time of arrival so I can be met.”

“I have done so.”

“What about the other passengers?”

“I shall allow no other passengers ashore,” said Gonçalves. “Mr. Franklin, I fancy, would be only too glad to cable Lisbon. I’ll tell them there isn’t time.”

“Very good,” said Lee. “I shan’t be gone more than an hour or so. Just have to see a man and ...”

Gonçalves held up his hand. “Please don’t tell me what your business is, Mr. Mappin. I am neutral.”

Lee laughed and clapped his shoulder.

During the afternoon the passengers had the pleasure of seeing the panorama of Flores roll by with its vivid green slopes and bold cliffs. It disappeared astern and they were alone on the sea again. But when they issued out on deck after dinner that night, they found a brilliant light blinking off the port bow. Then more lights appeared and dark shapes of land loomed in the night. Upon rounding a headland, a whole sparkling necklet of lights was revealed which disappeared suddenly as a high island intervened, and reappeared again.

The engines stopped, the ship lost way, and finally with a roar of slipping chain, the anchor was let go. A charming doll-size town lay spread before them with a little fort mounting guard over it. This was Horta, on the island of Fayal. A launch came chugging out of the harbour, and a Jacob’s ladder was dropped over the ship’s rail. There was considerable grumbling about “favouritism” among the other passengers lined up along the promenade when “Mr. Brown’s” short legs twinkled down the ladder and dropped into the launch, followed by William Miller’s long legs.

It was less than five minutes’ voyage to the quay. Not many transatlantic ships call at Horta, and apparently the whole able-bodied population had come down to see her. Lee and William climbed some stone steps and found themselves surrounded by a gaping crowd. They received a fleeting impression of stucco warehouses in the background, a little custom-house.

Through the crowd pushed a burly, red-faced man in tweeds. “Ha! Brown,” he cried, thrusting out his hand. “I’m John Westerholm. This way! This way!”

Close at hand he had a car with the top down, and a Portuguese chauffeur. The three of them climbed into the rear seat and, with a continuous squawking of the horn, the car turned into the little main street of Horta. A brief glimpse of charming little stucco houses in pastel colours, with elegant second-floor balconies, and then they were out in the country climbing a smooth road lined with hydrangea bushes. They turned into a private driveway and drew up before a long, low house with a superb vista of stars and sea. Over the entrance was fixed a little shield bearing the United States coat of arms.

“Come in! Come in!” cried Westerholm, jumping out of the car and flinging open the door. Everything about him was big and noisy. He exuded good humour.

Inside the house the immense, bright living-room with its parchment-shaded lamps, easy chairs, and shelves of books was like a room from home transported intact across the sea.

“So this is what you’re like,” he said, looking little Lee over in the light. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Lee’s glasses twinkled. “I take it you were expecting something bigger,” he said.

Westerholm waved his hands. “No sir! I don’t measure a man’s value by his inches!” He led them across the big room into a study. “Sound-proof!” he said dryly. On the table stood a bottle of Scotch, and glasses, and from a small refrigerator appeared soda and ice cubes as if by magic. “I knew the Captain wouldn’t want you to stay long,” he said, “so all is ready.”

“I promised I’d be back within an hour or so,” said Lee. “It will be enough. I wanted to have a look at you and to have you meet William Miller. I want to ask you a couple of questions, and to answer any you may wish to ask me. But my principal object in coming here is to instruct you in our new code. Invisible writing is no good; our previous code is in the hands of the enemy. This has never been written down. So listen well!”

Their heads drew close over the table. After Lee had explained the principle of the code, he said: “The first and the last paragraphs of your letter are not to be coded, you understand. The essential part of the communication is in the middle, and that must be made to sound perfectly harmless.”

“Boy! that’s quite an order!” said the big man ruefully. “I never was good at puzzles. This is worse than acrostics!”

“You need use it only when some poor devil’s life or liberty is at stake,” said Lee. “It’s worth going to a little trouble for!”

Westerholm made some notes on a scrap of paper. “I’ll study this for a couple of hours and destroy it before I sleep,” he said.

“Okay,” said Lee. “But don’t neglect to burn it. If it should fall into the hands of the enemy we’re sunk! I suppose you have spies, even on the island of Fayal.”

“And how!” said Westerholm.

They passed to lighter matters. “How long have you lived on Fayal?” asked Lee.

“Nearly ten years, Mr. Mappin. The consular duties here are nothing. I chose the post for the opportunity of doing some work of my own. After Pearl Harbour I sent the Missus and the kids home. I would have gone with them had I not received a hint that I could do a bit of really useful work here.”

“I know of what you have done,” said Lee, lifting his glass to him.

“Nothing at all! Nothing at all!” said Westerholm. “What about your two questions?”

“What are the communications between the islands and Lisbon?”

“The ships on the line you came on, to and from Ponta Delgada about every fortnight. They do not call at Horta unless ordered. Also the Island mail-steamer from Lisbon every other week. That calls at all the islands.”

“Can we use the mail-steamer in our work?”

Westerholm spread his hands. “Doubtful. The Captain is incorruptible. The Purser is a good friend of mine and you can approach him safely. It would be difficult, though, to smuggle anybody aboard the ship without the Captain’s knowledge.”

“Is there any other means of getting our friends through?” asked Lee.

“In case of emergency you could send me passengers by one of the Lisbon fishing-boats. There is one skipper that you can depend on absolutely. His name is Pedro Chavez. The boat is the Enguia. Chavez lives in Lisbon. I’ll give you his address. His vessel has an engine. The voyage would be uncomfortable, but not dangerous at this season.”

“The second question is, what is the chance of catching an American or Allied vessel homeward bound?”

“Can’t give you exact dates, of course. A homeward bound convoy will be leaving Algiers after September 10th. They’ll be passing to the south of these islands say a week later. I’ll be in radio communication with the convoy for ten days or more. In case of need, I can summon one of the faster ships to call at Horta.”

“What about submarines?”

“None in this part of the sea at the moment. The passage of the convoy may bring them here, of course. As to later sailings, I’ll have to let you know. What about coding such messages?”

“In a cable where you are limited to a few words, you must use your ingenuity. In this case you would cable: ‘Mother will be ready to go home after September 15th.’ ”

“I get you.”

“Have you any questions?” asked Lee.

Westerholm shook his head. “Only your address in Lisbon.”

“Lisboa Palace Hotel until further notice.”

“Have you a trustworthy Portuguese servant or messenger?”

“Not yet. William speaks the language, but he could hardly pass for a Portuguese.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you from this end.”

After a little more talk, Lee looked at his watch. “We must start back.”

They left the house.

At the quay the launch was waiting. They shook hands with Westerholm, and Lee said: “This is the shortest visit to a foreign port on record.”

“It has bucked me up,” said Westerholm. “If I can do anything more for you, cable me from Ponta Delgada to-morrow.”

Next morning, at the time of the Captain’s inspection, the island of Sao Miguel was close aboard; wicked-looking, scarred, brown cliffs, green shoulders, and a great central mass mounting until it was lost in cloud.

Captain Gonçalves entered the de luxe cabin with a scowl.

“What should I do about Franklin to-day?” he asked. “We’ll be here six hours. I can’t very well keep all the passengers aboard. I’ve a good mind simply to forbid Franklin to go ashore, and the hell with him. After all, I’m the Captain of this ship. I don’t have to give my reasons.”

Lee shook his head. “Better not, Captain; it would be showing too much of our hand. After all, it makes little difference. As soon as we land in Lisbon he’ll convey the news of my arrival to his friends. Let him send a cable from Ponta Delgada if he wants. It would be worth something to me to find out who he cables to.”

“Very well, sir,” said the Captain, “if that is your wish.”

However, when the ship dropped anchor before that dazzling white town, when the lordly stairway was let down on the starboard side and the launches gathered around the foot of it, Ronald Franklin did not press forward with the other passengers. He remained leaning his elbows on the rail of the promenade looking down with a superior smile.

“Not going ashore?” said Lee as he passed.

“What’s the use?” said Franklin nonchalantly. “Stuffy little burg! I’ve seen it all a dozen times.”

From the launch on the way ashore, Franklin could still be seen leaning negligently on the rail. William said softly to Lee:

“What’s he up to, anyhow? I didn’t like the look on his face.”

Lee answered calmly: “Thinks it will be more profitable to search our cabin while everybody is out of the way.”

William started. “Good God! I locked the door.”

“Surely. But don’t you reckon, after all his voyages on this ship, that he has collected a set of pass keys? Three master keys will open every stateroom door.”

“I’ll go back!” said William grimly.

Lee shook his head. “I want him to search the cabin. He will find nothing that he ought not to see.”

“Do you carry your papers about with you?” said William. “That’s dangerous, too.”

Lee smiled. “They’re not on my person, either ... Have you any papers on you?” he asked.

“I possess no incriminating papers,” growled William.

“Good!”

“Gott! how I hate him!” muttered William under his breath. Unconsciously his big fist clenched. William in his pink and whiteness was apt to impress the beholder as soft, but it was a false impression. “When he comes close to me my bristles rise!” he went on. “A Judas! Some day, some day there will have to be a showdown between him and me.”

“That would be fatal to our work ... now!” suggested Lee dryly.

William gritted his teeth. “I know! I know!”

They were seated alongside the engine trunk while the other passengers stood or sat towards the bow of the heavy, broad-beamed launch. Among them, Miss Kate McDonald, the pseudo-Scotswoman, turned her handsome face.

“Oh look, Mr. Brown! We are entering a little inner harbour. It looks as old as time itself. And see the quaint arcades all around it!”

Lee moved forward to join her. In her well-fitting suit of Lincoln green with a beret to match, she was charming. She owed little to make-up; the pallor of her smooth cheeks was seductive, and her great dark eyes were full of mystery. But she was uneasy, too; the handsome eyes were never still.

In going up the stone steps of the quay she was immediately in front of Lee. She paused and wavered slightly. Lee quickly put a hand under her elbow.

“Silly of me!” she said with a laugh. “The thought of toppling into the water occurred to me, and right away I began to stagger!”

This bit of clinging-vine business did not sit very well on Miss McDonald, who was obviously well able to take care of herself. But Lee supported her to the top of the steps.

On the quay the passengers were surrounded by native men and boys, who with more or less English were recommending themselves as guides to the town. Miss McDonald pressed a little closer to Lee.

“Let’s not have a guide,” she murmured. “It’s so much more fun to mooch around by ourselves.”

“Surely!” said Lee, drawing her hand under his arm and making for the street. To-day Lee and William had no cares beyond seeing the sights. William followed the couple, looking grim. Life had borne hard on William, and the springs of joy were dried up in him; women had little appeal.

“They say the Madeira work is better here than in Madeira itself,” the girl was saying. “I’d like to get some, but I expect it will turn out to be dearer than in New York.”

“It will be while the ship’s in harbour,” said Lee.

The girl intrigued him. In the midst of her chatter he noticed how her eyes were painfully drawn aside by the sight of a long-lashed little girl staggering under the weight of an adorable dirty baby. “Like babies?” he asked idly.

She quickly recovered herself. “Dear me, no!” she said with a tight laugh. “I’m not the mother type! It’s a crime to bring babies into a world like this!”

Up and down the main street of Ponta Delgada the old houses had broken out in a rash of modern store fronts with show windows displaying all the attractions of the A. & P. or Woolworth’s at home. Lee found it rather depressing.

“Let’s strike up hill,” he said, “and see some gardens. This town is famous for its gardens, I’ve heard.”

“Let me do a little shopping first,” pleaded Miss McDonald. “Just half an hour for shopping and the rest of the afternoon is yours.”

She paused at the door of a shop that sold embroideries and women’s wear. “Better let me go in here alone,” she said archly. “I’ve got to look at all kinds of unmentionables.”

“Old-fashioned?” said Lee, affecting to be astonished.

“No, Scotch,” she answered with a smile. “Come back in half an hour and pick me up?”

“Surely.”

The two men walked on. A group of boys followed, running out in the street, or darting ahead under their feet to get a look back at them. Some dropped away when their curiosity was satisfied, but others took their places.

“Damn the woman!” grumbled Lee. “I know I’m not attractive to the sex. I know she’s playing me for a sucker. But God forgive me! I like her!”

“You’re not obliged to come back in half an hour,” said tight-lipped William.

“Of course not.”

They turned up one of the sun-drenched streets accompanied by their admirers and presently came to a pretty little praca. One side of it was filled by a magnificent building, and through an open gateway they glimpsed a garden with old trees of strange shapes. They turned in, hoping to lose their attendants, but the boys came, too.

Inside, the wealth of verdure was like nothing they had ever seen. Beyond the first garden there was a lovely sunken garden, and beyond that actually a playing field with nobody playing in it. The whole was surrounded by a lavishly decorated stone wall. They sat down on a bench and all the boys stood and stared unwinkingly.

“Look,” said William, “do any of you understand English?”

There was a chorus of replies: “Yes, gentleman! ... Si, Senor! ... Sure!”

“Then get the hell away from here!”

Nobody moved.

Bye and bye, a boy they had not noticed before approached Lee timidly, offering him a rumpled pink card. Lee took it. It bore the address of an antique shop which, among other things, advertised old silver and Portuguese ship models.

“Sounds interesting,” said Lee, handing the card to William.

“Qual e a distancia?” William asked the boy suspiciously.

“Five minute, gentleman,” he answered eagerly. He was a handsome boy, straight and slim, with shadowed black eyes.

“Let’s go,” said Lee rising. “It will be more fun than mooching with McDonald.”

The other boys accompanied them out of the garden. In the street their young conductor turned on them with a torrent of invective, and they slunk away.

“I don’t know what he’s saying,” said William. “Talks too fast and uses slang words I never heard before.”

Having got rid of their hangers-on, the boy led them through one narrow, close-ranked street after another. Window-sashes and doors seemed to be unnecessary in Ponta Delgada, and they had intimate glimpses of domestic life as they went. Often they were hailed in English in friendly fashion. It was surprising to find how many of these islanders claimed to have worked in Brooklyn or Pittsoborgo or New Bedford. To all of William’s questions, their young conductor only answered, “Five minute, gentleman.”

Several times five minutes passed, and William finally halted. “We’re getting too far from our base,” he said. “Any reputable shop ought to be in the centre of town.”

The boy pleaded piteously with William. There were actually tears in his big brown eyes.

“What’s he saying?” asked Lee.

“Oh, the usual stuff about his poor father and mother and his sick sister,” said William. “He says they haven’t made a sale in the shop since the last ship called.”

“Let’s go on,” said Lee. “We have all afternoon.”

They were now in the poorest and most ancient quarter, where the houses appeared to be on the point of collapsing and the gutters were full of trash. Upon turning a corner they came upon several rough-looking men leaning against the wall on both sides with arms folded and hats pulled over their eyes. They had not seen so many men in one spot before. The women and children of this corner had disappeared. Lee glimpsed frightened faces peeping around the upper window openings.

William stopped. “I don’t like this,” he muttered. “Where’s the boy?”

They discovered that he had disappeared as if swallowed by the pavement.

Upon turning to retrace their steps, they found that several of the men had slipped behind them, cutting off their retreat. Additional men were silently edging out of doorways, perhaps a dozen in all. None spoke; out of dead-pan faces, the stare of bright, inhuman, black eyes never wavered.

A hairy individual with villainous blank features blocked Lee’s way. Lee demanded boldly: “What do you want?”

By way of answer, another man silently leaped on his back, bearing him to the ground. Some of the women at the windows whimpered. Lee made no struggle. It would do him no good, he knew, and he’d only get hurt. Out of the tail of his eye he saw that it was taking four or five men to get William down. Then a handkerchief was thrown over his eyes and tied. His arms were expertly pinioned to his sides, and a gag forced between his teeth. He could still hear William cursing furiously and thrashing about. After a while it stopped. Have they killed him? thought Lee. No sound came from any of the Portuguese except their heavy panting.

He heard a motor car draw up and stop. He was unceremoniously picked up and dropped in the rear compartment on top of William. A tarpaulin was thrown over them. Lee was overjoyed to find that William was still able to struggle in his bonds. He nudged him urgently to persuade him to be still, but William continued to strain at his bonds.

The car sped through the streets, honking continuously, turning the corners on screaming brakes. In a few minutes they slowed down and sped along a smooth, straight road. A breath of flower perfume reached Lee’s nostrils. Out in the country, he thought. Turning out of the smooth road, they began to climb a stony track in first gear. Then the engine was thrown out of gear and they bumped slowly down a long descent and stopped. What now? thought Lee.

They were lifted out and dropped in grass. The rope was unwound from Lee’s body and while a man sat on each limb, another started frisking him. The thought flitted through Lee’s mind: Fancy! four men to hold down little me! He could hear nothing from William. Lee’s snuff-box, his wallet and his loose change were taken, beside what other trifles they found in his pockets. Every inch of his clothes was felt between thumb and finger for concealed papers. They took off his shoes and socks to examine them. When they put them back on, Lee’s heart leaped in joy. They are going to take us back, then!

Sure enough, they were loaded back in the car and the return journey began. It took longer than on the way out, and Lee guessed they were entering a different part of the town. He heard the scuff of rope soles on the pavement and many voices. These townspeople never stopped talking!

The car turned into a quieter street and stopped. Lee and William were quickly lifted out, and dropped on the pavement. The car sped away. For a moment there was silence, then little shuffling sounds as people stole up; they whispered excitedly. Lee heard exclamations of pity. He twisted in his bonds and groaned under the gag. If they’re honest, why the hell don’t they release us? he thought. He heard the word “policia” repeated.

Finally the police arrived. The bandage was thrown off Lee’s eyes, the gag removed, his limbs unbound. A second policeman was questioning the bystanders. All insisted on talking at once. A roar of talk now filled the narrow street. When William was freed he added to it with his mighty cursing.

“In broad daylight! In broad daylight!” he shouted. “What the hell kind of a town do you call this!”

Lee and William were led to the police station in the nearby main street, followed by an ever-increasing crowd. Lee had no doubt that the kidnappers formed part of it, but how could he identify them? He noticed that William was limping.

“Badly hurt?” he asked.

William shook his head. “Only bruised.”

“You shouldn’t have struggled so hard.”

“Couldn’t help it ... In broad daylight! We might as well have been in Chicago!”

“It is possible our efficient friends were trained in our country,” said Lee.

“They were after more than our wallets,” growled William. “A fat lot of good it’s going to do us to tell our story to the police.”

“Sure! But we must act the part of good citizens. The police must be allowed to believe that it was just a common robbery.”

In the police station they found partial quiet at last. William told their story to a soldierly and courteous Inspector. As it proceeded, the officer lost his calm, pounded his desk and burst into grieved protests. William translated.

“He says such an outrage has never before been perpetrated on this island. Says they have no serious crime here. Says it is all due to the war.”

“He’s nearer the truth than he suspects,” murmured Lee.

The officer broke out afresh when William ended. William translated impassively. “Says they will leave no stone unturned to apprehend the miscreants. Says they can promise us they’ll have them in custody within twenty-four hours.”

“Police talk the same way in any language,” murmured Lee.

William continued: “But how can they convict the scoundrels, he wants to know, if we are not here to identify them.”

“Explain that that would be impossible,” said Lee, “but suggest that if they arrest the kidnappers and get evidence against them, we might come back. That may spur the police to greater efforts.”

They left a minute description of the stolen property. All this took time, and when they issued from the police station it was near the hour for the launch to return to the ship. The crowd in the street gaped at them as if they had been circus freaks. Out of the crowd appeared Miss Kate McDonald, who clung to Lee’s arm almost weeping.

“Oh, Mr. Brown, what happened? I searched for you everywhere and when I saw you and Mr. Miller led through the streets by the police I nearly fainted!”

Lee suspected that the tearful girl knew exactly what had happened, but consoled himself with the thought that, after all, she hadn’t got what she was after. “We weren’t the criminals but only the victims,” he said dryly.

“How dreadful! How dreadful!” she mourned.

On the launch, and on the ship when they boarded her, Lee and William had to run the gauntlet of incessant questions from the passengers. Lee, fearful of an outbreak from the grim William, answered all as politely as he could. Franklin was on the promenade. He had already heard something of the story and was full of sympathy. Lee noted how eagerly his eyes ran over their persons, looking for evidence of the struggle they had been through. Later, after Kate McDonald presumably had reported to him, his eyes were glum enough.

Lee was thankful when he got William down to their cabin. A glance round the little room revealed signs that it had had a thorough going-over while they were ashore. Lee did not mention this to the fuming William. Captain Gonçalves presently came to them. He, likewise, was seething with indignation, and it was up to Lee to soothe them both. He told Gonçalves the whole story.

“How could Franklin have engineered such a thing when he never left the ship or sent any radiograms?” said the Captain.

“Kate McDonald.”

Gonçalves’ eyes opened wide. “What makes you think that those two ... ?”

“Simply because they have never been seen to speak to each other aboard ship. Young, personable and unattached, it’s not natural.”

“Of course!”

“I fancy they’re both well known in Ponta Delgada,” said Lee, “and McDonald would know exactly whom to approach. She carried Franklin’s instructions ashore and the money for the job.”

Gonçalves sadly shook his head at the venality of his countrymen.

“It could happen anywhere,” said Lee. “These poor fishermen and labourers want us to win, but they cannot resist the temptation of turning a German dollar.”

“Well, by God!” cried Gonçalves, striking his fist into his palm; “I’m going to take a chance on it and put Franklin in irons for the balance of the voyage.”

Lee laid a hand on his arm. “No, my friend. What would be the result? Franklin would be released in Lisbon, and you censured. We have no evidence.”

“Very well! Very well! But that fool of a steward put Franklin at my table simply because he has travelled on this vessel before, and I have to look at his smug face at every meal!”

“No harm to let him see that you don’t like his face,” said Lee mildly.