Читать книгу The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories - Sapper - Страница 23

Table of Content

"YOU'RE a damned bungler, Waterlow. The girl isn't an imbecile, and this place looks as much like a nursing home as it does like a night club."

A big man in a light overcoat was the speaker. His face was coarse and dissipated, and suddenly he pulled a flask from his pocket and took a deep drink. The only other occupant of the room shrugged his shoulders.

"You were in such an infernal hurry," he said, "that this was the best I could do in the time."

"But why were you such a fool as to let her go upstairs," snarled the first speaker. "Her twin; and you imagine she won't spot it."

"Dry up, Barnet," answered the other angrily. "I'm getting fed to the back teeth with you. She said she'd got the thing on her, and I believed her. Even if I hadn't, what do you suggest I should have done? Snatched her bag out of her hand to make sure. Of course she wouldn't have suspected anything then, would she? Might have gone further and slogged her over the head with a poker: that's what the doctor in charge of a home generally does to his female visitors."

Sir Montague Barnet took another drink.

"All right: all right," he grunted. "Don't go off the deep end about it. I know you did all you could. That slab of misery who fetched her should have seen that she brought it."

He glanced at his watch.

"She should be here by now if she's coming," he said uneasily. "It's past nine."

"I'll go and see that everything is ready," remarked the other. "And don't smoke that cigar, and have the smell all over the house."

"Perhaps you're right," grunted Barnet, replacing it in his case. "Though once we've got it," he continued with a leer, "she can suspect what she likes."

"Can she?" said the other significantly. "I'm not so sure about that."

He went out of the room, leaving the baronet cursing under his breath. And it was not until the flask had been requisitioned for the third time that he took from his pocket the counterpart of the map sent to Judy Draycott, and put it on the table in front of him.

For the twentieth time he studied it only to give it up as a bad job. Where the deuce was A? Until they could get that point fixed it was useless. And he was just replacing it in his pocket when he swung round in his chair with a strangled cry. For the blind man had entered noiselessly and had touched him on the shoulder.

"Good God! Emil, I wish you wouldn't do that," he snarled. "I'd no idea you were here. My nerves are all to hell."

"Judging by the aroma," sneered the dwarf, "you have been doing your best to raise them from the lower regions."

"It isn't you who have had the strain," cried Barnet angrily. "So less of your damned sarcasm, if you don't mind."

Then he pulled himself together.

"Look here, Emil," he said, "there's no good in our quarrelling. What are we going to do supposing this girl goes to the police? I don't see how she can avoid finding out that it isn't her brother."

"Provided she brings the paper—what matter? She has no idea her brother is dead, and even if the worst should happen here, all Waterlow has to do is to say that he made a mistake. It is not a criminal offence to think a man is a girl's brother when he isn't."

"No, but it might prove deuced awkward. Anyway, Emil, if anything should come out: if Maitland, for instance, should give trouble, you and I know it was Ernesto who did it."

An evil smile flickered over the blind man's lips.

"Do we?" he murmured. "My dear Monty, I heard a shot, and you tell me it was Ernesto who fired it. And with my sad affliction I have to take your word."

"You little devil," said the other hoarsely, the veins standing out on his forehead. "You know as well as I do that it was the dago."

"As I say, I take your word for it, my dear fellow. In a court of law, however, I fear that that would not count for much. No, no, Monty—please remember that. You understand, of course, that I merely mention it to ensure you taking every precaution against being found out. Of course I am the one person who could not have done it, so it does not really matter to me. I am merely being altruistic."

For a moment it looked as if the baronet was going to strike him. His big hairy fist was raised above his head, and murder was in his eyes. Then with a great effort he pulled himself together, and his hand fell to his side.

"You were present, anyway," he said sullenly.

"True. But a poor blind man is so helpless," said the dwarf gently. "And he had to take precautions to safeguard himself in this harsh world. And that's why I just mentioned it to you, Monty. You would hardly believe it, but there have been times in my life when scoundrels—men I have befriended, men I have been working with—have tried to double-cross me. So just remember won't you? I have no idea who fired the shot, which might prove awkward for you."

For a moment or two the other stared at him, fascinated: then his teeth bared in an evil snarl. But his voice was normal when he answered.

"I'll remember," he said.

"Good! And now it might be well to see if our friend is compos mentis again. His snores were reverberating through the house a little while ago."

"I'll go and get him," said Barnet, and the dwarf was left alone. For a while he stood motionless: then feeling his way with an uncanny delicacy of touch he proceeded to explore his unfamiliar surroundings. At length he seemed satisfied, and drawing up a chair, he sat down as the door opened and Barnet came in with an odd-looking character behind him. He was a short, thick-set man dressed in a blue reefer suit, and as he stood there fingering his cap, and staring a little fearfully at the dwarf, it required no Sherlock Holmes to deduce his profession. He was a sailor, and quite clearly he had been celebrating his time ashore in a manner not unusual with his class. He rolled slightly as he took a few steps forward into the room, and as he came under the light a large jagged scar down one side of his face showed up vividly.

"Good evening, Mr. Robinson," said the dwarf gently. "I trust you have recovered from your—er—jag."

"I'm all right, guv'nor, thank you," said the man still twisting his cap nervously in his hand. "I understand as 'ow you wants to ask me summat."

"That is so," agreed Dresler. "I was making some enquiries the other day for a seaman with an intimate knowledge of the east coast of South America, and your name was given to me."

"I reckons I knows every port from Georgetown to the Horn," said the sailor.

"Excellent. I understood that most of your time had been spent in the coasting trade. Now have you, in the course of your wanderings, ever struck a place called by the English, Lone Tree Island?"

"Lone Tree Island! South of Santos. You bet your life I know it, guv'nor; know it well enough to give it a mighty wide berth."

"Most interesting. And may I ask why you would give it a wide berth?"

"Because, guv'nor, the man who doesn't don't have no second chance. There be things on that island wot no man may see—and live. It be accursed."

"Really: really. You grow more and more interesting, Mr. Robinson. And may I ask how you know this? Is it merely what you've heard from other people, or have you been there yourself to see?"

"Both, guv'nor. I've been there myself: we lay up once for well-nigh a week to the south of the island with a damaged shaft. And I've 'eard from other men too: things wot they've seen. Gawd! I wouldn't spend the night on that island not for a 'undred quid. Straight—I wouldn't."

"What sort of things, Mr. Robinson?"

"Monstrous things, guv'nor: 'orrors. Things that was never made of 'uman parents. Aye! you may laugh, sir"—he turned to Barnet, who was smiling incredulously—"but wot I tells you is the truth. You ask any sailor who knows the coast and 'e'll tell you the same as wot I do."

"I am quite sure that what Mr. Robinson says is correct," said the dwarf. "And we're both very much obliged to him for his information."

"No trouble, gentlemen. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"If you don't mind waiting a little longer, Mr. Robinson, I hope to be able to show you a map of it. And I should very much like your confirmation that it is the island we've been talking about. Monty, my dear fellow, our friend is probably a little thirsty after all his talking. I have no doubt there is some whiskey in the kitchen."

"Well," he continued, as the baronet returned a few moments later, "the matter becomes increasingly intriguing. 'Things that were never made of 'uman parents: 'orrors.'"

"Do you believe the man, Emil?"

The dwarf shrugged his shoulders.

"Those who go down to the sea in ships are proverbially spinners of tall yarns," he said. "There may be some substratum of truth in it, which has been exaggerated into what we've just been told. And, anyway, I have yet to find the being, whether made by human parents or not, who is proof against a high-velocity rifle."

Sir Montague Barnet started to pace to and fro.

"I wish we knew for certain if it was worth going on with it," he said.

The dwarf smiled contemptuously.

"Life would be a pretty tedious affair," he remarked, "if one always knew for certain. You know the enquiries we've made: you know our sources of information. And even if it should prove to be wrong—what is the cost? A few hundred pounds—a thousand at the most. Which sum, Monty, I am finding, do not forget."

The door was flung open and Waterlow put his head in.

"Car coming up the drive," he said. "Everything is ready."

"Listen, Waterlow," said Dresler quietly. "If it is humanly possible, we do not want the girl to suspect anything. It will save us an infinity of trouble if she doesn't. And so, as soon as she has handed it over, get it down to this room somehow. A minute will be enough for Monty to take a tracing. Then if she wants it—she can have it back."

"I get you," answered the other going into the hall and closing the door.

The car had pulled up at the door, and contrary to the usual custom the driver seemed to be trying to find out how much noise he could make with his engine. He accelerated in bursts, until Barnet swore angrily under his breath.

"He'll wake the whole damned neighbourhood—that fool of a chauffeur," he muttered.

But the chauffeur seemed quite oblivious of his unpopularity: at intervals he raced his engine with an ear-splitting roar—so ear-splitting in fact, that even the blind man's supersensitive hearing was of no avail for any other sound, such as a man might make as he cautiously opened the window a little more and a little more each time. And with the final, full-throttled burst Jim Maitland, who had been reconnoitring the house for the last twenty minutes, found himself with only a blind barring his way to the room. Then silence fell, broken only by Waterlow's voice.

"Really, Miss Draycott, your chauffeur might remember that this is a nursing home."

"So sorry, Doctor Phillips," came her apologetic reply, "but the car is not going very well. That's why I'm so late. How is Arthur?"

A look of relief spread over Barnet's face: evidently she suspected nothing.

"Better now, Miss Draycott. He was very worried and upset this morning after you left but I succeeded in pacifying him. I trust there is no mistake this time, and that you have brought it with you."

"Of course, Doctor, and I shall never forgive myself for being so stupid this morning."

Their voices died away as they mounted the stairs, and the dwarf smiled easily.

"It marches well, Monty," he said. "She would appear to be eating out of our hands. Now get that sailor in."

The blind stirred slightly as the door opened—a natural phenomenon in the faint night breeze—and Jim Maitland's keen eye took in every detail of the room. From above him came the sound of the girl's voice: evidently the interview with the supposed brother had commenced.

He drew back a little as Barnet returned, accompanied by Robinson, though he could still see the whole of the room.

"Now, Mr. Robinson," said the blind man, "we shan't detain you much longer. May I take it that you would recognise a map of the island if you saw one?"

"Well, I ain't much of a hand at maps, gentlemen, but I'll 'ave a shot at it."

"No one can do more," said Dresler genially as the door opened and Waterlow came in.

"Here it is," he said hurriedly. "And get a move on. She knows all about everything, and wants to see the other half."

"Does she suspect about her brother?" asked the dwarf.

"Doesn't seem to. She's chatting away quite cheerfully."

"Right. Go back. And the sooner you get her away the better. Now, Mr. Robinson," he continued, as the door closed, "perhaps you would have a look."

"We've got it, Emil," said Barnet triumphantly. "The two pieces fit perfectly. Now is that the island?"

He laid them on the table, and the sailor bent over them.

"Aye," he said, "that looks like the place. Ancorage: that's right. That's where we lay: south of the island. And all the eastern part is swampy. Crocks—why, that river is full of them, and other things too."

"Good!" cried Barnet, rapidly adjusting a piece of tracing paper. "Emil—we've got the map complete except for that torn-off bit in the bottom left-hand corner."

"Does it give the location of what we want?" asked the dwarf.

"Yes," said the other laconically. "I'll work that out later."

For a moment Jim hesitated. To knock out Barnet and snatch the map would be easy—a matter of seconds. But he would certainly be recognised, and—what was even more important—Judy Draycott was not yet safely away. He craned forward trying to see, but the baronet's back was between him and the map. And he was on the point of chancing it when once more Waterlow came in.

"She's getting suspicious," he said hurriedly. "Wants to see the other bit. Is it safe?"

"Yes," answered the dwarf quietly. "It's the lesser of two evils. Well, Mr. Robinson, I don't think we need detain you any more. Good night, and I'm much obliged to you. Waterlow—show him out. Now, Monty," he went on as the door closed, "have you got that tracing finished?"

"Just finished now," said the other.

"And you have a copy of our half? Good. Put the tracing in your pocket, and we'll have the girl in. You're another doctor, don't forget. And don't get near her: you reek of whiskey even at this range."

There was the sound of voices coming down the stairs, then Judy came in followed by Waterlow.

"Here is Miss Draycott, Professor," he announced.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Draycott," said the dwarf courteously. "May I introduce my other colleague, Doctor Arbuthnot."

Barnet bowed.

"Your brother is, I think, as well as can be expected under the circumstances," went on Dresler. "It is indeed fortunate that the accident should have taken place so close to my nursing home."

"Very fortunate indeed," said the girl, quietly. "And I am most grateful to you for all your kindness."

"My dear young lady"—the dwarf lifted a deprecating hand—"that is what we are here for. And now that you have brought him the other half of his map, his mind will be at rest."

"Is that it on the table?" she asked innocently. "What is it all about?"

She crossed over and looked at it.

"It all seems nonsense to me."

"I fear you're quite right," said the dwarf. "It is nonsense. But so long as he is in his present state he must be humoured."

"He keeps on talking about hidden treasure," she went on. "Where is this supposed to be?"

"I've got no idea," said the dwarf. "He tells me he got it from some sailor in South America. And I fear if the truth be known that it is like so many sailor's stories—complete imagination."

"You don't think this is a real island?" she asked.

"Frankly, Miss Draycott, I do not. And even if it is I'm afraid the chances of there being any treasure on it are remote. Other people would have heard of it long ago, and removed it."

"I suppose so," she said a little sadly. "And the poor boy does seem so keen about it too. However, I have promised him to do all I can, so I suppose I must. But it seems rather a waste of time."

"What are you doing, Miss Draycott?" cried Barnet, and Jim began to shake with silent laughter. For the girl was calmly folding up both parts of the map and putting them in her bag.

"He's just asked me to find out anything I could for him about it in London," she explained, and Jim shook still more. "When you were out of the room, Doctor Phillips. He seemed so keen that I don't like to disappoint him. So I'll just pretend."

Barnet and Waterlow were staring at her in perplexity: their dilemma was clear to the delighted witness outside the window. They both knew that the girl was lying. But they couldn't say so, without giving themselves away. And it was the dwarf who took charge of the situation.

"Quite right, Miss Draycott," he said calmly. "Do anything that will keep his mind at rest. Humour him in every way. And when shall we be seeing you again?"

"To-morrow, I think, or perhaps the next day," she answered, rising to her feet. "Good night, Professor. Thank you again for all you've done for Arthur."

"It is a pleasure, my dear young lady. Good night."

"Well, I'm damned," said Barnet, as the door closed. "Why did you let her get away with it, Emil?"

"At times, my friend, I despair of your brain. What else was there to do?"

"But don't you see," fumed the other, "that it is proof positive that she suspects. Johnston never said that to her: she was lying."

From outside came the noise of a self-starter—a splutter, a roar—and as the car swung down the drive Waterlow re-entered.

"The fact had not escaped me," said the dwarf languidly. "Though there is a bare possibility that she herself suggested it to Johnston, and he perforce had to agree."

"That is soon settled," cried Waterlow going into the hall. "Johnston—come down here."

A man of about thirty entered mopping his face.

"Those cursed bandages are the limit on a hot night," he remarked.

"Did that girl make any remark to you about taking the map up to London with her?" said the dwarf.

"Yes. Seemed dead set on it. I didn't know what to say so I left it vague."

"Do you think she suspected you?"

"Didn't seem to. She called me Arthur and patted my hands."

"You see, Monty," said the dwarf quietly, "it was far better to let her take them. What harm can she do? What is the good of that map to anyone unless they know where the island is? And what chance has she got of finding anyone who would be able to tell her? Unless..."

He broke off, and sat brooding.

"Unless what?"

"For the moment I thought of Maitland," remarked the dwarf.

"I wish we'd done the damned fellow in that night," said Barnet savagely. "He knows every inch of South America."

"Hardly that, my dear Monty, though I admit I should feel happier if he was out of the way. And you must remember two things. One—we don't know that he knows the girl: and two—even if he does, it is very improbable that he knows where the island is. Still, I admit Maitland is a distinct problem, and one that we may have to solve. However, that can wait. The immediate thing is to clear out of here at once. Order my car round, Johnston, and shut this place up. I fear if the lady comes here again she will have a slight shock."

Noiselessly Jim backed away from the window, and keeping on the grass he went down the drive at a steady lope. There was nothing further to be learned, and things had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations, entirely owing to the girl. He had complete faith in his ability to spot where the island was: there were many old pals of his down in Dockland who knew the coast of South America as they did the palms of their hands.

And then suddenly out of the darkness there loomed an immediate solution to the problem—to wit, Mr. Robinson stumping along the road. He could give him the information he needed, but speed was imperative since at any moment the dwarf's car might be on them. Percy was waiting for him a little way ahead, but he wanted no chance of being overtaken.

"Good evening, Mr. Robinson," he said as he came abreast.

"'Oo the 'ell are you?" was the uncompromising answer.

"Someone who is proposing to give you a fiver if you'll run," said Jim with a laugh.

A stationary red light had just come in sight in front of them.

"Run as far as that light with me, Robinson, and I'll give you a lift to London as well, in exchange for a little information," continued Jim.

"Gaw lumme! Fivers seem easy to-night."

He pounded along beside Jim, until they reached the car.

"My friend, Mr. Robinson," cried Jim, "who is coming back to Town with us. Hop in in front, my lad, and Percy, tread on the juice."

He sank down beside the girl in the back seat, and as the car gathered speed he could just see the exquisite profile so close to him.

"Well done," he said quietly. "Well done, indeed."

She made no reply; and merely stared in front of her.

"Miss Draycott! Judy! what's the matter?" he asked gently. "A penny."

She gave a little sigh that was half a sob.

"It's Arthur," she said. "I've had time to think; that's all."

And now the tears were coming unchecked.

"Killed by those brutes the very day he returned. It's wicked. I want them to be punished; I want someone hanged."

A sudden feeling of guilt assailed him: he had actually forgotten all about her brother.

"Listen, Judy," he said gravely, "while I say my little bit. I know exactly how you're feeling: it's only natural. And perhaps I was wrong in not calling in the police at once. But I happen to be one of those blokes that don't instinctively go for the police if anything happens: I suppose I've lived too much in places where there aren't any to go for. And it was the extraordinary coincidence of the whole thing that struck me, coming as it did just after I'd left you. The dago, your story about the treasure, everything combined to make me hesitate. And then, as you know, I was outed and it was too late. But what I'm getting at is that now I am glad I acted as I did. Honestly I believe that there is something in this yarn, and the best way of revenging your brother's death is to do those swine down."

The girl did not answer, and gradually her tears ceased. And then somehow it came about that her left hand fell off her lap and encountered Jim's right. Which, of course, was purely accidental, and may be treated as an irrelevant and extraneous detail. Almost as irrelevant in fact as three remarks which were made five minutes later.

"Percy, you blighter, this isn't Brooklands. Ease up, confound you."

And the voice was male.

"Ever so much slower, Percy dear. I'm being blown to bits."

And the voice was female.

"Thank Gawd for that, guv'nor."

And the voice was that of a man in whom some faint hope of life had been rekindled. Mr. Robinson's idea of speed did not coincide with Percy's.

It was past eleven when they drew up finally outside Jim's flat.

"But why the dickens did you want me to go slower, after telling me to tread on the juice?" demanded Percy indignantly.

"One is so much more exposed to things in the back seat, Percy dear," said the girl. "But you drove very nicely."

"Why, we've taken as long to get up as we did going down counting in the twenty minutes we waited while Jim went ahead. Rotten."

"Push inside, and don't talk so much," remarked Jim. "As an ornament to the doorstep I'd prefer a gargoyle. I expect you could do with a drink, Robinson."

"Well, sir, I don't mind if I do," agreed the sailor. "Them machines seem to make one thirsty like."

Jim smiled, and led the way. And as a hardened bachelor he noted with a certain misgiving that installing Judy in his best chair was a very pleasant occupation. Not, of course, that there would ever be anything in it: he had merely held her hand in a comforting, fraternal way. Still—a very pretty girl: very pretty indeed.

"Now, Robinson," he said when they were all settled, "I'd be glad if you'd tell me one or two things. First of all how did you get mixed up in that bunch?"

"That's easy, sir. I was lodging down in Mother Shipwells—she takes in us seafaring men chiefly—when a bloke shoves 'is 'ead round the door at dinner-time to-day and sings out: ''Oo knows South America well?' I says I do. 'E h'asks me a few questions, and then says: 'Would you like to earn a fiver?' I says: 'Stop kidding.' 'E says: 'It's strite.' All I 'ad to do was to go and see some guys in the country that wanted h'information. That's how it 'appened, sir."

"Good," said Jim, "that's clear. Now, from what I heard this evening, you were talking about some island."

"That's right, sir. The first thing that little terror of a dwarf asked me was if I knew Lone Tree Island."

"That was before I got there," said Jim. "And you did know this island?"

"There h'ain't many men, sir, 'oove been in the coastal trade there 'oo don't," answered the sailor. "I knows it all right, as I told them guys down there. Knows it so well, as I says to 'em, that I wouldn't spend a night on it for a 'undred quid."

"But why the deuce not?" cried Percy, staring at him. "I mean, I'd spend a night in a temperance hotel for that."

"Look 'ere, sir," said the sailor to Jim. "A lot of you gentlemen—and you too, Miss—seems h'interested in Lone Tree Island. Now I'm only an h'uneducated man, and maybe you don't pay much count to what I says. But there's a man just 'ome from the West H'Indies 'olding a master's ticket 'oo knows more'n I do about the place. 'E's lodging not far from Mother Shipwells—Cap'n Blackett...."

"Wait a minute," cried Jim. "Big man with a hook nose, and blue eyes, who used to have an old tramp called the Indus?"

"That's the man, sir. Do you know 'im?"

"Know Bill Blackett? I should think I do!"

"Well, sir, he'll tell you h'everything, better'n than I can."

Jim put his hand in his pocket.

"Here's some money, Robinson. Get in a taxi, and go and see Captain Blackett. Tell him Jim Maitland wants him, and bring him back with you to-night. And if his memory wants jogging, just say—'The Union Bar, Pernambuco!'"

"Aye, aye, sir. If 'e's there, I'll bring 'im. Evening, mum: evening, gentlemen."

They heard the front door slam, and Jim, his eyes gleaming with excitement, began pacing up and down the room.

"Bill Blackett! A damned good man. We'll get the truth from him, my children, if we can get it from anyone."

And suddenly Judy Draycott understood the reason of Percy's hero worship. Just as a hunter quivers and fidgets at the sound of hounds, so was this man at the thought of adventure. And a little ruefully she realised that in all probability he had completely forgotten that he held her hand in the car.

"A pity that I sent the other half to my lawyers," he went on. "Still, it was safer, I suppose. And we can get to the maps later, after we've heard what Bill has to say."

He came with Robinson an hour later.

"By Jove! Mr. Maitland," he said as he shook hands, "you are the only man in London who could have got me out of bed at this hour."

"Good for you, Bill," cried Jim, and introduced him to the other two. "Take that chair, and you'll find the necessary beside you. I want some information out of you."

"So I gather from Robinson," said the other gravely. "I hear you've been making enquiries about Lone Tree Island."

"That seems to be the name of the spot," agreed Jim.

"Have you got the map of it?"

"Only half: the other is at my lawyers. There it is."

Bill Blackett stared at it for some time.

"Yes—that looks to me like a rough sketch of the southern part of the island. And if it is, Mr. Maitland, or if you—and I know what you are—have any idea of paying it a visit, my advice to you is to tear that up into tiny pieces and forget it."

"But why, Captain Blackett?" cried the girl breathlessly.

"Because, Miss, there are certain things in this world which it is best to leave alone. Mr. Maitland is a match for anything on two legs, as I very well know, but neither he nor any other man is a match for what ever it is that lives on that island. It's accursed: the island is accursed."

"Bill—you're pulling our legs," said Jim banteringly.

But there was no answering smile on the other's face.

"Was the case of the Paquinetta before your time?" he enquired.

"I don't seem to recall it," said Jim.

"Then if it won't bore you, I'll tell you the story."

"Fire ahead, Bill," cried Jim. "The night is yet young."