Red In The Morning (10 page)

Then, without much conviction –

“No, no,” he said. “She said they was all of them out. That’s why I give the signal, like wot you tole me to do. Besides…” He broke off there and moved forward, exactly as Punter had done. “You see, if she ’ad run forward, she’d never ’ave managed that bend. She’d a ’eld straight on, she would; jumped that culvert an’ – Oh my Gawd, she done it…just as I said.”

With that, he rushed down the hill, like a man possessed, while the other, who had missed the apostrophe, because he was looking away, stood staring after his servant with a hand halfway to his mouth. Then he began to follow, muttering under his breath, until he made the third to arrive at that point in the road from which his automobile could be identified.

For a moment he stood as though spellbound. Then his French nature came out. He raised his two hands to heaven screaming and yelling curses with all his voice: then he flung his hat on the ground and belaboured it with his dispatch case until the handle came off. He then endeavoured to throw the case over the hedge, but such was his nervous exhaustion that twice he failed. These failures enraged him so much, that I made sure he was going to fall in a fit: however he picked up the case and tried again and, having at last succeeded, spat violently in the direction in which it had disappeared.

Behaviour so much out of reason would, I think, have made a mute smile; and we were half dead with laughter before the man picked up his hat and, raging at its horrid condition, shambled down the hill in the wake of his men.

Wiping the tears from my face, I tried to decide what to do. The three men were at our disposal. Was it better to deal with them, or to stay out of sight? After a little, I decided that we should lie low. Except, perhaps, for Punter, I bore them no personal grudge: if this was indeed the Baron, Mansel was far more fitted to talk to a man of his kind: thirdly, as I have shown, they did not know what to think – a condition of mind I had no desire to relieve: finally, I was most anxious to have a good look at our flat. And so I told Carson to stay – or, rather, to make for the dell and to draw as near as he could, without being seen; for it goes, I think, without saying that while observation is good, overhearing is better still. Then I called to Bell, and the two of us made for the farm.

I now gave all my mind to the mischief de Parol had done or was hoping to do in our flat, for he had not gone such lengths just to see if our beds were made. To enter another man’s house, like a common thief, was a serious step for a man of his standing to take: and the rank incompetence with which he had gone to work showed that he was not accustomed to such activities. Why, then, had he come himself? The answer seemed to be this. Either because he proposed to do something which he was not ready to trust another to do; or because he proposed to do something which nobody else would do.

Now Gedge was not scrupulous, and I was about to dismiss the second alternative, when I remembered the terror the chauffeur had shown when the Baron had dropped his dispatch case into the road. And then I perceived the truth, which, I must confess, I should have perceived before.

That the case had contained an explosive, I now had no doubt.

The fellow had come himself, not only because he alone could place and set the bomb, but also because the others fought shy of its energy. The chauffeur had plainly been frightened to death of the thing – had driven in fear and trembling, because it was on the back seat: and then, when he saw the case fall, apprehension overrode reason and made him cry out. And the pressure of the tyres had been lowered, out of respect, of course, for this captious passenger.

Now of bombs and explosives, I had no knowledge at all: but Bell, who was older than I, had been through the Great War: so I told him my conclusions and waited to see what he said.

“That’s right, sir,” said Bell. “A time bomb. Or it might be a booby trap. They’re easy enough to set. And, if I may say so, we’ll have to be careful here. Three of my squadron were killed that way – in 1918. The Germans had hung up a cat by one of its legs. Alive, of course. And as soon as our fellows saw it they ran to cut it down. An’ then the whole cottage went up.”

“We’ll go in by the house,” I said, “instead of the outside stair. And we might have a word with Madame. What was he asking her? And why was he moving his hand?”

“Moving his hand, sir?” said Bell.

“Behind his back,” I said. “He was moving it up and down.”

“An’ the Baron waited for that, sir?”

“Yes.”

There was a little silence. Then –

“I think you’re right, sir, to have a word with Madame. But if she can’t give us a line, I think we’d be wise to wait till the Captain comes in. You see, it’s this way, sir. We’re out to discover the trap which the Baron has set: well, we can’t do that without moving about the flat: and, if he’s done his stuff well, the very first movement we make may set that trap off.”

I frowned.

“D’you put it as high as that?”

“I do, indeed, sir,” said Bell. “We’ve got electricity there: and the things a sapper can do with a couple of lengths of wire…”

“Well, we’ll see Madame Caillau,” I said.

The interview was trying and yielded little enough. The poor woman had found the chauffeur the most delightful of men – a friend, of course, of her son – who had come on his afternoon out to bring her the finest peaches she ever had seen. Her son had told him of us, and, since he was English, too, he had wished to know all about us and how we did. And so she had told him how pleasant and easy were our habits, how we were abroad all day and how helpful the servants were, how we went for a stroll at night and were up at dawn and a dozen other trifles not one of which shed light on the movements the chauffeur had made when his hand was out of her view.

I led the way out of the gate and into the road.

“As I see it, Bell,” I said, “there’s only one thing to be done. You must stay here, to warn Captain Mansel off in case he gets back before me. And I must collect the Baron. He set the blasted trap: and he can damned well spring it – or take it off.”

“That’s the best way, sir,” said Bell, solemnly.

As fast as I could, I made my way to the dell. This took some time, for I had to fetch a compass lest I should be seen, and I was much afraid that the Baron would have withdrawn. I mean, to do so was ordinary common sense. To stay on the scene was folly, for he could do no good. But when I had found and joined Carson – with infinite care, he showed me de Parol sitting some thirty yards off, malevolently staring upon Punter who seemed to be fast asleep.

The chauffeur, it seemed, had gone to the nearest village, to telephone to the château and ask for another car. Punter had urged that to stay on the spot was madness; but de Parol had pointed out that none of us knew him by sight and had added with dignity that we could hardly object to an accident’s having occurred so close to our farm. This point of view had made Punter laugh so immoderately that the other had charged him with throwing the car away and had sworn to denounce him to Gedge before the sun went down. But Punter had had the last word.

“A lot’s going to happen,” he said, “before the sun goes down. You see what Auntie says when he hears you’re waitin’ here for another car. Talk about a—”

Here perhaps I should say that the car, close to which they were sitting, looked hardly worth while taking up. I think she had turned over twice. Be that as it may, she was now the right way up: but the height of her body had been reduced by half, the two wheels that I could see, though still attached to the axle, were resting upon their sides instead of their rims, and her engine seemed to be flowing out of a battered grotto which bore no resemblance at all to the front of a car.

Under the murmur of the water, I made Carson free of my plan.

“We’ll have to take Punter,” I said. “Not that I want the swine, but to cover our tracks. Then, when the chauffeur gets back, he won’t know what to think. How long has he been gone?”

Carson glanced at his wrist.

“Just twenty minutes, sir. He’s a mile to go each way, and then he’ll have to wait for his telephone call. I can’t believe he’ll be back before half-past five.”

“That’ll do very well. If we need him, you can come back and fetch him along. He’ll tell us quick enough what he meant when he waggled his hand.”

Carson smiled.

“It seems it’s our day out, sir.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” said I. “But I must admit they have played into our hands.”

With that, I rose out of my lair and, walking up to de Parol, desired him to get to his feet.

“Today,” I said, “uninvited, you entered my flat. Now you are invited to do so. Should you decline, you will be ordered to do so. Get up and march.”

Without a word, the fellow did as I said.

Punter was still asleep, so I kicked his ribs.

He awoke with a howl, to see Carson, pistol in hand.

“Put them up, Punter,” said Carson, and when the fellow obeyed, he took his pistol away.

So the procession took shape.

After some fifty paces, the Baron turned to protest: but, seeing the look on my face, he thought better of his proposal and, with a muttered apology, held on his way. Ten minutes later, perhaps, we came to the farm.

As Bell stepped out of the gateway –

“Tie this man’s wrists,” I said.

Bell ran for a piece of cord.

“This is an outrage,” said de Parol. “Misfortune has made me your prisoner. I expect to receive from you the honours of war.”

I turned the man about, took him by the nape of the neck, and approached his face to the wall.

“You’re a filthy blackguard,” I said. “And filthy blackguards are treated as they deserve.”

With that, I rubbed his nose on the wall, till he screamed again.

Then I let him go.

“Now answer me back,” I said.

Tears mingled with the blood on his face, but the man had nothing to say.

I turned to look at Punter, whose eyes were wide.

“The gloves are off, Punter,” I said. “I’m not as soft as I was.”

Punter swallowed and blinked, but he never opened his mouth.

A minute later, the Baron’s wrists were fastened behind his back.

“Into the flat,” I said. “You know the way.”

The fellow went up the stairway quickly enough.

“Turn round and open the door.”

By my order, he led the way to our sitting-room.

“And now,” I said, “now show me the trap you set.”

The fellow drew himself up.

“I do not know what you mean…”

“Think again,” said I. “You have put something here, which, if it is not removed, will do us no good. Kindly show me how to remove it – without delay.”

“I have done no such thing.”

I took out my cigarette lighter and struck the thing into flame.

“Turn him round, Bell,” I said. “I’ll start on his fingertips.”

The statement was more than enough.

Under his tearful direction, we followed the stricken nobleman into our dining-room. Punter accompanied us, sweating: the fellow was frightened to death: but for Carson’s pistol, he would, I am sure, have endeavoured to leave the flat.

De Parol looked round the room with bolting eyes. Then –

“Unless you unfasten my hands–”

“Not yet. Show me what you have done.”

There was a painful silence. Then –

“It was a prank,” said de Parol, “a foolish prank. I extracted one of the fuses” – he nodded towards a fuse box, high up on the wall – “and put in one of my own. Had that remained in place, as soon as the light was switched on, there would have been – a little explosion…”

“I see,” said I, slowly. “How did you reach the fuse box?”

“I stood on a chair.”

I looked at Bell.

“Put a chair under that fuse box.”

The Baron started forward.

“It would be better,” he mouthed, “that no one should touch.”

“No one will touch,” said I. “I’ll show you why.”

With that, I mounted the chair and put up my hand.

The fuse box was fully six inches out of my reach.

“You see?” I said. “And I’m very much taller than you.”

The man began to tremble.

As I stepped down –

“And now,” I said, “I’ll give you one more chance. If you lie again, you and Punter will be tied back to back and will be left in this room for twenty-four hours.”

This threat, as I had expected, was more than Punter could bear.

“For —’s sake, show ’im,” he cried. “’E means wot ’e says. I’d — well show ’im meself, but I don’t know wot you done.”

The other drew himself up. Then he turned to me.

“If I do so,” he said, “I assume I may rely upon your good taste to —”

“No.”

“In that case, I regret–”

That was as far as he got, for Punter lost his temper and hit him full on the mouth.

“How’s that for good taste?” he blared. “You — shover, you—”

With a scream of rage, the other turned upon Punter, wrenching his arms like a madman to free his wrists; and when he could not do this, baring his teeth and spitting like any beast. Indeed, he had in a moment put off the semblance of man, for his face was a mask of hatred – a wild demoniac malice, shocking to see.

If we were taken aback, Punter himself was shaken, for he cowered and put up an arm, as though to ward off the flame of the other’s wrath.

So the five of us stood for perhaps ten seconds of time. Then I called the Baron to order, because such bestial behaviour was really not fit to be seen.

Very slowly he turned to face me.

“Yes?”

“Pull yourself together,” I said. “And do what you’re here to do.”

The distorted features relaxed.

“Who are you to command me?” he said.

This was too much.

Already Gedge must have heard of the loss of the car, yet no watch was being kept, for Bell and Carson and I were all in the flat. There was here some infernal machine, which should have been discovered five minutes ago, which, for all I knew, might any moment go off. And the man who had set it here – the only man who could put it out of action, had worked himself into a frenzy which still obsessed him so much that he could not give his mind to anything else.