第 16 页

after the maid. But I was too late. She had already entered the

dining-room and given my name to her master, and I had missed the

chance of seeing how the three took it.

When I walked into the room the old man at the head of the

table had risen and turned round to meet me. He was in evening

dress - a short coat and black tie, as was the other, whom I called

in my own mind the plump one. The third, the dark fellow, wore a

blue serge suit and a soft white collar, and the colours of some club

or school.

The old man's manner was perfect. 'Mr Hannay?' he said

hesitatingly. 'Did you wish to see me? One moment, you fellows, and I'll

rejoin you. We had better go to the smoking-room.'

Though I hadn't an ounce of confidence in me, I forced myself

to play the game. I pulled up a chair and sat down on it.

'I think we have met before,' I said, 'and I guess you know

my business.'

The light in the room was dim, but so far as I could see their

faces, they played the part of mystification very well.

'Maybe, maybe,' said the old man. 'I haven't a very good memory,

but I'm afraid you must tell me your errand, Sir, for I really don't

know it.'

'Well, then,' I said, and all the time I seemed to myself to be

talking pure foolishness - 'I have come to tell you that the game's

up. I have a warrant for the arrest of you three gentlemen.'

'Arrest,' said the old man, and he looked really shocked. 'Arrest!

Good God, what for?'

'For the murder of Franklin Scudder in London on the 23rd day

of last month.'

'I never heard the name before,' said the old man in a dazed voice.

One of the others spoke up. 'That was the Portland Place murder.

I read about it. Good heavens, you must be mad, Sir! Where do you

come from?'

'Scotland Yard,' I said.

After that for a minute there was utter silence. The old man was

staring at his plate and fumbling with a nut, the very model of

innocent bewilderment.

Then the plump one spoke up. He stammered a little, like a man

picking his words.

'Don't get flustered, uncle,' he said. 'It is all a ridiculous mistake;

but these things happen sometimes, and we can easily set it right. It

won't be hard to prove our innocence. I can show that I was out of

the country on the 23rd of May, and Bob was in a nursing home.

You were in London, but you can explain what you were doing.'

'Right, Percy! Of course that's easy enough. The 23rd! That was

the day after Agatha's wedding. Let me see. What was I doing? I

came up in the morning from Woking, and lunched at the club with

Charlie Symons. Then - oh yes, I dined with the Fishmongers. I

remember, for the punch didn't agree with me, and I was seedy next

morning. Hang it all, there's the cigar-box I brought back from the

dinner.' He pointed to an object on the table, and laughed nervously.

'I think, Sir,' said the young man, addressing me respectfully,

'you will see you are mistaken. We want to assist the law like all

Englishmen, and we don't want Scotland Yard to be making fools

of themselves. That's so, uncle?'

'Certainly, Bob.' The old fellow seemed to be recovering his

voice. 'Certainly, we'll do anything in our power to assist the

authorities. But - but this is a bit too much. I can't get over it.'

'How Nellie will chuckle,' said the plump man. 'She always said

that you would die of boredom because nothing ever happened to

you. And now you've got it thick and strong,' and he began to

laugh very pleasantly.

'By Jove, yes. just think of it! What a story to tell at the club.

Really, Mr Hannay, I suppose I should be angry, to show my

innocence, but it's too funny! I almost forgive you the fright you

gave me! You looked so glum, I thought I might have been walking

in my sleep and killing people.'

It couldn't be acting, it was too confoundedly genuine. My heart

went into my boots, and my first impulse was to apologize and

clear out. But I told myself I must see it through, even though I

was to be the laughing-stock of Britain. The light from the dinner-

table candlesticks was not very good, and to cover my confusion I

got up, walked to the door and switched on the electric light. The

sudden glare made them blink, and I stood scanning the three faces.

Well, I made nothing of it. One was old and bald, one was stout,

one was dark and thin. There was nothing in their appearance to

prevent them being the three who had hunted me in Scotland, but

there was nothing to identify them. 1 simply can't explain why I

who, as a roadman, had looked into two pairs of eyes, and as Ned

Ainslie into another pair, why I, who have a good memory and

reasonable powers of observation, could find no satisfaction. They

seemed exactly what they professed to be, and I could not have

sworn to one of them.

There in that pleasant dining-room, with etchings on the walls,

and a picture of an old lady in a bib above the mantelpiece, I could

see nothing to connect them with the moorland desperadoes. There

was a silver cigarette-box beside me, and I saw that it had been won

by Percival Appleton, Esq., of the St Bede's Club, in a golf tournament.

I had to keep a firm hold of Peter Pienaar to prevent myself

bolting out of that house.

'Well,' said the old man politely, 'are you reassured by your

scrutiny, Sir?'

I couldn't find a word.

'I hope you'll find it consistent with your duty to drop this

ridiculous business. I make no complaint, but you'll see how annoying

it must be to respectable people.'

I shook my head.

'O Lord,' said the young man. 'This is a bit too thick!'

'Do you propose to march us off to the police station?' asked the

plump one. 'That might be the best way out of it, but I suppose

you won't be content with the local branch. I have the right to ask

to see your warrant, but I don't wish to cast any aspersions upon

you. You are only doing your duty. But you'll admit it's horribly

awkward. What do you propose to do?'

There was nothing to do except to call in my men and have them

arrested, or to confess my blunder and clear out. I felt mesmerized by

the whole place, by the air of obvious innocence - not innocence

merely, but frank honest bewilderment and concern in the three faces.

'Oh, Peter Pienaar,' I groaned inwardly, and for a moment I was

very near damning myself for a fool and asking their pardon.

'Meantime I vote we have a game of bridge,' said the plump one.

'It will give Mr Hannay time to think over things, and you know

we have been wanting a fourth player. Do you play, Sir?'

I accepted as if it had been an ordinary invitation at the club.

The whole business had mesmerized me. We went into the

smoking-room where a card-table was set out, and I was offered

things to smoke and drink. I took my place at the table in a kind of

dream. The window was open and the moon was flooding the cliffs

and sea with a great tide of yellow light. There was moonshine,

too, in my head. The three had recovered their composure, and

were talking easily - just the kind of slangy talk you will hear in

any golf club-house. I must have cut a rum figure, sitting there

knitting my brows with my eyes wandering.

My partner was the young dark one. I play a fair hand at bridge,

but I must have been rank bad that night. They saw that they had

got me puzzled, and that put them more than ever at their ease. I

kept looking at their faces, but they conveyed nothing to me. It

was not that they looked different; they were different. I clung

desperately to the words of Peter Pienaar.

Then something awoke me.

The old man laid down his hand to light a cigar. He didn't pick

it up at once, but sat back for a moment in his chair, with his

fingers tapping on his knees.

It was the movement I remembered when I had stood before him

in the moorland farm, with the pistols of his servants behind me.

A little thing, lasting only a second, and the odds were a thousand

to one that I might have had my eyes on my cards at the time and

missed it. But I didn't, and, in a flash, the air seemed to clear. Some

shadow lifted from my brain, and I was looking at the three men

with full and absolute recognition.

The clock on the mantelpiece struck ten o'clock.

The three faces seemed to change before my eyes and reveal their

secrets. The young one was the murderer. Now I saw cruelty and

ruthlessness, where before I had only seen good-humour. His knife,

I made certain, had skewered Scudder to the floor. His kind had

put the bullet in Karolides.

The plump man's features seemed to dislimn, and form again, as

I looked at them. He hadn't a face, only a hundred masks that he

could assume when he pleased. That chap must have been a superb

actor. Perhaps he had been Lord Alloa of the night before; perhaps

not; it didn't matter. I wondered if he was the fellow who had first

tracked Scudder, and left his card on him. Scudder had said he

lisped, and I could imagine how the adoption of a lisp might add terror.

But the old man was the pick of the lot. He was sheer brain, icy,

cool, calculating, as ruthless as a steam hammer. Now that my eyes

were opened I wondered where I had seen the benevolence. His

jaw was like chilled steel, and his eyes had the inhuman luminosity

of a bird's. I went on playing, and every second a greater hate

welled up in my heart. It almost choked me, and I couldn't answer

when my partner spoke. Only a little longer could I endure

their company.

'Whew! Bob! Look at the time,' said the old man. 'You'd better

think about catching your train. Bob's got to go to town tonight,'

he added, turning to me. The voice rang now as false as hell.

I looked at the clock, and it was nearly half-past ten.

'I am afraid he must put off his journey,' I said.

'Oh, damn,' said the young man. 'I thought you had dropped

that rot. I've simply got to go. You can have my address, and I'll

give any security you like.'

'No,' I said, 'you must stay.'

At that I think they must have realized that the game was desperate.

Their only chance had been to convince me that I was playing

the fool, and that had failed. But the old man spoke again.

'I'll go bail for my nephew. That ought to content you, Mr

Hannay.' Was it fancy, or did I detect some halt in the smoothness

of that voice?

There must have been, for as I glanced at him, his eyelids fell in

that hawk-like hood which fear had stamped on my memory.

I blew my whistle.

In an instant the lights were out. A pair of strong arms gripped

me round the waist, covering the pockets in which a man might be

expected to carry a pistol.

'SCHNELL, FRANZ,' cried a voice, 'DAS BOOT, DAS BOOT!' As it spoke I

saw two of my fellows emerge on the moonlit lawn.

The young dark man leapt for the window, was through it, and

over the low fence before a hand could touch him. I grappled the

old chap, and the room seemed to fill with figures. I saw the plump

one collared, but my eyes were all for the out-of-doors, where

Franz sped on over the road towards the railed entrance to the

beach stairs. One man followed him, but he had no chance. The

gate of the stairs locked behind the fugitive, and I stood staring,

with my hands on the old boy's throat, for such a time as a man

might take to descend those steps to the sea.

Suddenly my prisoner broke from me and flung himself on the

wall. There was a click as if a lever had been pulled. Then came a

low rumbling far, far below the ground, and through the window I

saw a cloud of chalky dust pouring out of the shaft of the stairway.

Someone switched on the light.

The old man was looking at me with blazing eyes.

'He is safe,' he cried. 'You cannot follow in time ... He is

gone ... He has triumphed ... DER SCHWARZE STEIN IST IN DER

SIEGESKRONE.'

There was more in those eyes than any common triumph. They

had been hooded like a bird of prey, and now they flamed with a

hawk's pride. A white fanatic heat burned in them, and I realized

for the first time the terrible thing I had been up against. This man

was more than a spy; in his foul way he had been a patriot.

As the handcuffs clinked on his wrists I said my last word to him.

'I hope Franz will bear his triumph well. I ought to tell you that

the ARIADNE for the last hour has been in our hands.'

Three weeks later, as all the world knows, we went to war. I joined

the New Army the first week, and owing to my Matabele experience

got a captain's commission straight off. But I had done my best

service, I think, before I put on khaki.

End

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