Читать книгу DETECTIVE CLEEK'S GOVERNMENT CASES (Vintage Mystery Series) - Thomas W. Hanshew - Страница 9

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IT WAS precisely an hour later that they were seated in a private box at the Alhambra, for Mrs. Hawkesley had chosen that place of amusement, the Captain having promised to join them from the club. And the performance was halfway over when the little flurry caused by the entry of fresh people made Cleek look down idly into the stalls. The sight of two occupants there gazing back at him in a sort of atrophied hatred, which included Ailsa as well, drove a little spasm of fear through his heart. Let them do what they like to him, let them trap him and kill him, or torture him, as the fates provided, but let one hair of her head be touched, and he would show them that the very demons of hell could be let loose for one man's service and one man's gain. No less the familiarity of the two, Count Irma and the pretty lady at his side, clad in a shimmering, gauze-like material that was like the lining of a sea shell, and with the diamonds flashing in her dark hair, caused him to give vent to a little exclamation of surprise.

"Margot!" he ejaculated, and at the sound of that name Ailsa turned swiftly to where his eyes rested, and met those of Margot fixed on her with all the insolent hatred that was at the creature's command.

She clenched her hands as she gave out a little cry of dismay.

"The two together!" she said in a low, terrified voice, "What does it mean?"

"Mischief," flung back Cleek sharply. "That's what it means, Ailsa, mischief."

Of a sudden came the swift opening of the box door, and Captain Hawkesley entered. Cleek was upon his feet instantly.

"In the very nick of time, Captain," he said in a low, smooth voice. "You have often expressed a desire to make us quits. Here, then, is your opportunity. Take this seat; Ailsa will explain. I haven't time; but for God's sake keep your face unseen. The game will be up if they recognize you. Quick, Ailsa, another of your roses, dear, like mine here; this one I cannot part with." He smiled whimsically as Ailsa obediently placed one of the Chatenay buds in the Captain's empty buttonhole. "And one of your orchids for me, Mrs. Hawkesley. Now, fix your attention on the stage "

"But you " broke in Ailsa with a little gasp of despair.

"I am safe enough. I can disguise myself when necessary. Have no fear." Speaking, he turned abruptly. The door flashed open and flashed shut again. And even Ailsa, who knew the secret of his peculiar birthright, found it difficult to conceive that the French Apache of the better class, with the orchid in his buttonhole, who swaggered into the stalls a minute or so later, was the man who had just left them.

That he succeeded in deceiving Margot was only too evident, for she was seen to introduce him with many shrill laughs and shrugs of her white shoulders to Count Irma, and the three were soon in deep confab, oblivious to the entertainment on the stage, or of the disapproving glances of their immediate neighbours. It seemed an eternity, though in reality it was but a short half hour, before the last curtain fell; and as the strains, of the National Anthem floated on the heated, smoke-laden atmosphere, Ailsa gave a little sigh of mingled dread and relief.

Of Cleek there was no sign when they reached the crowded vestibule, nor of the French Apache with the orchid, though it seemed to Ailsa as if the whole place had been filled with Parisians, all gay, eager, and alert.

Close beside them as they stood on the curb outside stood a ragged, dirty-looking creature, darting . here and there like a hungry sparrow to pick up the few pennies that the occasional calling of a cab earned him. "'Ere y'are, miss, keb, keb!" he said briskly, jostling against Ailsa and with set purpose separating her from Mrs. Hawkesley.

"I don't wish a cab," she responded coldly, "I am with friends. I "

Of a sudden, to her utter consternation, she was borne out into the street by the crush, and she found herself surrounded, not by a mixed crowd of homewardbound theatre-goers, but, men who, despite their evening clothes, were obviously Frenchmen of the "Boul' Miche'."

She turned to go back, but the way was barred. Panic seized her and she tried to call out. Instantly one of the number thrust himself forward, and spoke to her with a leer on his evil face:

"Leave la petite to me, I'll have her. Come quick, before the cracksman discovers her loss " Like a flash a path opened, and she was carried off her feet by the vehemence of the attack, and bundled into a waiting motor which was driven away just as a portly figure turned the corner of Leicester Square at the head of a posse of police.

"Mr. Narkom!" Ailsa managed but one cry before her cloak was twisted over her mouth and her voice dulled to silence. Where in God's name were they taking her? What had happened? Where were Cleek and the Hawkesleys? Surely they would discover her before it was too late! But they did not discover her, and it was not until the motor came sharply to a standstill in Hyde Park that a voice reached her through the folds of the cloak about her face and head.

"It's all right, guv'," said that voice, with comforting familiarity. "Not a bloomin' Apache in sight. Done 'em a fair treat this time. Orl right, Miss Lorne?"

It was Dollops, and, dearer still, Cleek, her erstwhile abductor, behind him, his eyes alight, his face glowing! She gave out a little cry and stretched her hands to him in bewildered abandonment. He caught them in his own.

"I had to let you be frightened, dear one," he said, in a low, tender voice. "There was no other way. They might have guessed otherwise. But I was lucky, for I managed to 'phone to Mr. Narkom, who should just catch Margot, if he's quick, and then appeared in time to whisk you off before the others got you. Dollops" — he threw up the window — "can you drive the car down to Hampton Court?"

Came a low whistle, followed by a chuckle of satisfaction. "Lumme, sir, just you try me," said that worthy promptly. "The houseboat'll be the very thing for us now, and Miss Ailsa, bless 'er 'eart, will be as right as rain with old Mother Condiment. Orl right, sir."

Then with a purr of the engines, the great car was off and away to the old Thames Valley, whizzing along at a splendid pace, while Cleek and Ailsa, within it, entered for the time being into their paradise together.

But Mr. Narkom was unfortunately too late. Margot and her compatriots had vanished like snow beneath the sun, and the Superintendent was left once more to curse his luck upon not being on the scene of action.

And it was not until a few days later that he was actually made aware of Cleek's hiding-place, though, thanks to a hasty message sent to Mrs. Hawkesley, he knew that both his charges were safe. However, upon the third morning after that fateful visit, Mr. Narkom got his letter. He mopped his forehead with a brand-new silk handkerchief, jerked down his cuffs and straightened his tie, as befits the "Yard's gentleman" when in performance of the Yard's duty, and went down and out to where the new limousine, a bright blue affair with trimmings of stone gray, awaited him in the courtyard below. He stepped into it with a sigh of genuine relief.

And Lennard, ever watchful, ever ready, replying to his brisk nod, was off like a shot toward Chelsea, scudding along the Embankment at a mile-a-minute clip. Out across the broad road, and into a network of meaner streets, where a goodly part of the army of the great unwashed dwelt and had their being, sped the car, and some fifteen or twenty minutes later came out into the open country, which was now at its height of summer beauty.

"This will be it, I think, sir," said he at last, slowing down at the curve where the main road threw out a narrow lane leading riverward between two tall, close-clipped privet hedges.

Mr. Narkom unlatched the door.

"Yes, this is as near as we dare go, and I'll wager I shall find him in the garden, so I might as well walk down direct. So drive about a little, Lennard, and be back here in about half an hour."

That Mr. Narkom knew his quarry well was evident, for, after passing a very wilderness of roses, he came to a spot where a dark head moved about among the bushes, and lo! there was Cleek, his sleeves turned up to the elbow, his face flushed with exercise, busy grubbing up weeds and loosening the baked earth around the roses, while Ailsa Lorne reclined in a low chair, watching the operations with lazy approval.

He glanced up at the sound of Mr. Narkom's footsteps on the gravelled path, and smiled ruefully.

"You're on time to the tick, you dear old nuisance," he said, slipping an earth-stained hand into his waistcoat pocket for his watch. "But you can pass the time of day with Miss Lorne while I go and divest myself of some of her landed estate."

He held up his fingers for Mr. Narkom to see, and went off whistling, while the Superintendent, with smiling countenance, did his friend's bidding.

"Glad to get back, weren't you, Miss Lorne?" he said, with an appreciative look round the roselined lawn and flower-filled pergolas that flanked it. "I do wish I did not need to bother him again so soon; but it's duty, you know, and in duty's call "

"One has to obey blindly," she gave back in her soft voice. "And you know he will be only glad to help you. Ah, here he comes! I will beat a retreat, and leave you a clear field of action." And with a nod and a smile for the Superintendent, and something more than a nod and a smile for Cleek, as he came striding toward them, she turned upon her heel and entered the cottage; and they could hear her singing as she went.

But Fate is a strange creature. Much was to pass before she and the man she loved would know again the peace of that garden.

"Now," said Cleek as he and Mr. Narkom joined each other and commenced pacing the pathway, "what's wrong with the world this time? Robbery, suicide, or what?"

"Murder!" threw in Mr. Narkom with a little shudder. "And wholesale and diabolical murder at that. That's why I asked you to let my client come to you here, so as to get to work before another crime is committed. It was good of you to permit me that privilege, old chap."

"H'm! Is it as bad as that?" said Cleek, with a little frown. "Well, let us go to that little summer house there at the end of the path, and you shall tell me the particulars."

A minute's walk brought them to it, set like a bower in the centre of the roses.

"Well, now what, Mr. Narkom? " said Cleek. "Wholesale murder, I believe you said? Gad! that's a nice thing to throw at a law-abiding citizen on such a gorgeous day as this! Well, go ahead. But, first of all, who's the client? Lady or gentleman? You did not say over the 'phone this morning."

Mr. Narkom puckered up his brows.

"A gentleman," responded he. "A Hindoo gentleman, Mr. Gunga Ramagee, of Lincoln's Inn."

"Gunga Ramagee! Worst of those Indian Babu chaps, their names are so much alike. But, if my memory doesn't play me false, wasn't there one of that name who took a scholarship for law in Calcutta ? Came of high Brahmin caste, and was accordingly disowned by his family when he came over to England?"

"The very man!" ejaculated the Superintendent, with a sigh of genuine admiration. "Though how you learn these things beats me. It's uncanny, I call it."

Cleek laughed good-naturedly.

"Not a bit, my dear chap. As it happens, there was a small paragraph about it in an old journal lying on the dentist's table last week, and as I had to patronize one of that fraternity, and loathe the inevitable hour's wait beforehand, that item impressed itself on my memory. But go on. Begin at the beginning, please. First of all, who has been killed and where?"

"At least three Hindoos," said the Superintendent with a sigh, "and probably a fourth. Each one is found nude, and a strange thing about the whole affair is that in each case nearly all the blood has been drained from the body."

Cleek sat up suddenly and sucked in his breath.

"What's that? What's that?" he rapped out, stung into a show of feeling by the revolting nature of this statement. "All the blood drained! Good heavens, man! this is something like a mystery. Where were they found?"

"In the neighbourhood of the Essex marshes, just near a little village called Easthope. The last one was discovered at midnight by the constable on duty, lying covered with a piece of sacking, a rope twisted round the body, and not a drop of blood spilt anywhere. They tell me that it seems as if he had been allowed to bleed to death, and then the corpse deposited in the road like a sucked orange."

"No clothing, eh?" Cleek dived for his cigarette case, a sure sign that his interest was aroused. "Pretty good evidence that the poor beggar's clothes would have betrayed his identity, and that he could not have been staying very far away from where he was found. Even in a country village a man can't carry a naked corpse very far without attracting attention, can he? H'm-m-m! Any vehicle seen or heard in the neighbourhood?"

Mr. Narkom shook his head.

"Not the ghost of one. But the first body was not found in the main road at all, but in a little lane leading over private fields. The constable is certain that no one passed him on his beat.

"But, according to Gunga Ramagee, a dog ran down the lane, running as if it had been frightened. As the constable knew where it belonged, he didn't take particular notice of it, and concluded it had been out on the prowl and was just making for Delhi House "

"What's that? Delhi House? " threw in Cleek with an upward twitch of the eyebrows.

"Yes, it's the name of the house where Gulam Singh, the uncle of Gunga Ramagee, lives."

"Oho!" said Cleek, with a strong rising inflection. Now we're getting 'warm,' as the children say. And all these gentlemen, you say, are Hindoos? And they're found outside a house wherein lives a Hindoo?"

Mr. Narkom sniffed.

"Yes, that's the popular belief," said he disdainfully. "But Gunga Ramagee declares that no one had visited his uncle save himself, and that he was an absolute recluse and hermit. Investigation proved that this was so, and that no one had any reason to expect the presence of the murdered men in the neighbourhood."

"Quite so. Any marks on the body? No signs of mutilation, I suppose?"

"No. The only wounded spots were where the arteries had been cut at the wrists and legs. Perfectly clean cuts, evidently made for the purpose of letting out the blood, and obviously not for killing. Beyond that the body bore no blemish. He had not been stabbed, shot, or bludgeoned, and Gunga Ramagee says that Seton, the village physician, made an examination, and proved, despite the fact that the body was practically bloodless, that there were no traces of poison or disease. The only signs of anything wrong at all were inflamed passages of the inside of the mouth and nostrils, and the doctor attributed this to cold, due to change of climate. Perhaps so much attention would not have been paid, but for the fact of finding, just three days after the burial, a second man in exactly the same condition. This corpse was half buried in a deep ditch about a hundred yards away. Examination showed that the body was in a far more advanced stage of decomposition, and that the man must have been murdered some weeks before the other."

"H'mm! I see," said Cleek. "Go on, please. I suppose there was an uproar in the village?"

The Superintendent threw up his hands.

"I should just think there was. The whole countryside is up in arms, and, like you, have connected Gulam Singh with the crimes. When a third body was found in the ditch they nearly burnt the house down, and Gunga Ramagee applied to the county station to have a special posse of police to guard his uncle, whom he fairly worships. The man has been something more than a father to him, I should say.

"Well, yesterday, a fourth body was dug out, and, as I said before, Heaven alone knows how many more may have been discovered by this time!"

Cleek pursed up his lips, as though about to whistle, and gave bent to a low laugh.

"What a fool's trick!" said he. "What a fool's trick! The man must be a madman to court death at the hands of an infuriated mob, by burying the bodies just outside his own house. How has he done it without being seen? I suppose it is safe to assume that the fourth was discovered under similar circumstances?"

"Yes, all save the fact that the face was distorted into an expression of fearful agony, whereas those of the others were quite calm and peaceful; and the corpse was wrapped in a fragment of Indian tapestry. It was this, according to the entire village, that completed the evidence against Gulam Singh."

"The chain of events, but not necessarily 'evidence,' Mr. Narkom," threw in Cleek with a shake of the head. "Kali! Swa! Krishna! Let me think for a moment." His voice dropped off; he took his elbow in his palm, and his chin between his thumb and forefinger, and sat looking, with fixed eyes and puckered brow, out over the shining river, and for a time made neither sound nor movement.

And so he was still sitting when Miss Lorne came hurrying down the path, her white frock showing vividly against the green trees, and at her side a slim, frock-coated, top-hatted, brown-faced figure with the features of an Indian god, and a closeclipped, soot-black moustache covering his lips.

A slight frown crossed Cleek 's face as he sprang up to greet them, and for the moment he hesitated. Then he put out his hand.

"Mr. Gunga Ramagee?" said he politely.

The Hindoo bowed.

"This gentleman has an appointment with you," said Ailsa with a smile, and a sudden light leaped into the Hindoo's face as he turned to thank her. He bowed as she left them, with an obeisance that was fitting for a queen.

Cleek turned on his heel.

"Come," said he briskly; "we will be off at once. Drive down in the limousine, Mr. Narkom, and Mr. Gunga Ramagee shall tell me the facts as we go along. That's right, dear friend; lead the way and I shall follow."

A few brief moments of farewell to Ailsa, and then Cleek strode after the figures of Mr. Narkom and the Hindoo; and, before she had time to retrace her steps, Lennard was once more urging on his petrol steed, as though it were an avenging angel, and they were off, tearing down the road at a pace which ate up the miles greedily.