the two girls had been driven away from the embassy almost immediately after, to their unbounded relief, they had witnessed the escape of the supposed burglar over the wall.
cecily had thought the good-bye of the ambassador curiously formal and restrained; but herr blitzen had escorted them down the embassy steps with the smiling intimation that he would be joining them again later in the day.
but he was not smiling when he followed von ravenheim to the latter’s study, and, making no attempt now to hide his feelings, his face was black with anger. the ambassador appeared to be as calm and unruffled as ever, but his unusual pallor and the hard glitter of his eyes masked a dreadful fury.
“a very grave calamity has been narrowly averted, your excellency,” he exclaimed the moment the door was closed behind them, “for, if that man had not escaped as he did, in half an hour at latest we should have the police thundering at the embassy door.”
“i doubt it,” scowled herr blitzen rudely. “the man may have had nothing to do with the police or the secret service, for it is my opinion that he is not that gilbert larose you say he is. you have no proof of it, and you have just let your suspicions run away with you.”
von ravenheim kept his temper. “i’ll explain everything to you in a moment, your excellency,” he replied quietly, “but first, i want you to realise that, whoever he is, there has been rank treachery here by someone we trusted.” he spoke scornfully. “the man did not get out of that room without help, someone obtained that pistol for him from the shooting gallery, and someone hid him when we were searching last night.” he drew in a deep breath. “and i only realised a few minutes ago who is responsible for it all!”
“he was not hidden in the house,” snapped blitzen. “we searched everywhere.”
“we did not!” retorted von ravenheim sharply. he paused a moment and then added very quietly. “we did not look in the bathroom where that charming young lady was having her bath!”
herr blitzen screwed up his eyes, with his face now a scarlet color. “what do you mean?” he almost gasped.
“that miss cecily had taken pity on him,” replied the ambassador calmly, “that she was hiding him there.” he went on. “yes, he was in the bathroom all the time we were talking outside to her sister. then, when the search had died down and they had seen from the windows that we had finished combing through the courtyard, he went down the fire escape and hid in the shed.” he nodded. “they were quite right in thinking we should not look in there again.”
blitzen was too dumbfounded to speak, but his face was still suffused in anger.
“and another thing,” went on von ravenheim. “i learnt only a few minutes before these girls left that last night miss cecily came down from their rooms just before twelve and asked for a large brandy and soda and some biscuits. she said her sister was feeling faint.” he scoffed. “biscuits for a faint person who had finished an excellent dinner less than three hours before!” he shook his head. “no, the refreshment was for that larose, who had had nothing to eat all day!”
he now averted his eyes from blitzen’s face, and looked down at his desk. he thought it wise not to be witnessing the other’s discomfiture.
“you see, your excellency,” he continued, “when we come to consider, it all dovetails in accurately. miss cecily left the table during dinner, as she said, to go for her handkerchief. she was gone a long time, nearly ten minutes, and when she returned her face was flushed as if she had been running. most probably she had or, at any rate, she had been exerting herself to get that man upstairs. remember, the doctor said he would have been hardly able to walk. then ——”
“but how the devil would she have known that the fellow was down in that cellar?” thundered herr blitzen.
von ravenheim looked down his nose. “she doesn’t speak baltic, that young lady, and so, of course, she would understanding nothing when i said to you in the passage that gilbert larose was behind that door we were then passing and was going to be questioned at night!” his arm shot out. “why, don’t you recollect she said she was feeling faint, immediately afterwards? she did look as white as a ghost! she had understood everything!”
“but how the —— how on earth,” stuttered blitzen, “could she have opened the door to get him out? she had no keys!”
von ravenheim inclined his head. “on the contrary, she had mine!” he motioned with his head. “the bunch was in the pigeonhole just here and she had seen me take it out before i opened that cupboard to show them our silver.” he drove in his argument relentlessly. “then see the state the girls were in this morning. both pale and washed-out as if they were under some great nervous strain! i don’t suppose they had slept all night, wondering what had become of the man.”
“but why should they want to interfere?” demanded herr blitzen, looking very upset. “even if they understood the language and caught your mad remark about the man, they wouldn’t know what you had meant!”
“wouldn’t they!” commented von ravenheim grimly. “they wouldn’t if they were just ordinary butterfly society girls, but they would”— his words came with a snap —“if they were highly trained women employed by the british secret service!”
blitzen’s face had whitened and, although his words were bold, he spoke now with much less confidence. “your suspicions again!” he exclaimed. “all your arguments are based on suspicions and no facts!”
von ravenheim shrugged his shoulders. “but just consider, your excellency,” he said persuasively, “your association with those girls and the way you first came to know them. it is all clear to me now; and i shall always blame myself that i didn’t realise it soon enough to warn you.”
a long silence followed; and then the ambassador, abruptly turning the conversation, said very quietly. “early this morning i received a phone message from a woman who works for us, and whose information is always reliable. she says sir howard wake will be stopping with lord michael for this coming week-end at tollesbury hall. that’s lord michael’s place, near maldon, in essex.”
“how far from london?” asked blitzen, his face still frowning.
“a little less than 40 miles,” replied the ambassador. he nodded. “it’s the ideal place for what we want, very lonely and right away from everywhere. it’s on the estuary of the blackwater river; and the grounds are almost surrounded by muddy creeks. i can’t understand, for the life of me, how anybody came to build a house there.”
a short silence followed, and then blitzen asked sharply. “and it’s got to be done this weekend?”
“yes,” nodded the ambassador, “and so we have five days to find a reliable party. we must ——”
“i don’t want any more of your reliable parties,” snapped blitzen savagely. “we’ll do it ourselves. we are capable of it?” he spoke sneeringly. “you won’t flinch, will you?”
the ambassador looked scornful. “your excellency knows i should never flinch at anything. it is not shooting them i mind; but i am bound to consider the terrible consequences which would fall upon our country if anything went wrong and we were caught.”
“we’ll risk it?” said herr blitzen curtly. “i’m tired of all this playing for safety.” an unhappy expression came into his face. “i’ll not go back to that hotel, either. i won’t go there again. so you’ll have my things sent for, and i’ll stay here for the rest of the time i’m in england. i shall not be going out much, and i’ll leave the cursed country for good next week.”
the ambassador did not attempt to dissuade him about the shooting, knowing it would be quite useless. “as you wish, your excellency,” he said, “but i am going out now, and shall not be back until the afternoon. so you will be by yourself.”
“all right,” nodded blitzen. “give the key of that shooting gallery to me, and i’ll do some practice. i haven’t shot at a man since i killed that peasant at doon for not taking off his cap to me.”
in the meantime larose had been driven to the little flat he rented in sloane square. then, refreshed by a hot bath, he rested for an hour before going out to lunch.
he felt very jubilant at the way in which he had escaped from the baltic embassy, but rather downcast that he had failed to find out who the men to be assassinated were, and very puzzled about the two girls.
that the latter were helping herr blitzen in some way there was not the slightest doubt, but that they were mixed up in the darker intrigues of von ravenheim he could not bring himself to believe.
“and if it is found out by those brutes what they did for me,” he sighed, “heaven help them! they’ll be dealt with without mercy!”
as a welcome change to the shabby suit he had been wearing, he dressed himself carefully and now, clean-shaven and spruce, looked very different from the bedraggled creature who that very morning had climbed over the embassy wall.
he took a taxi to the fashionable apollo restaurant and, deeming the occasion worthy of it, treated himself to a pint of the best champagne. the restaurant was being well patronised, and, with a spasm of unpleasant memory, he contrasted the bright and animated scene before him with the horrors of that underground chamber where, but a few hours previously, he had been awaiting torture and a dreadful death.
he had not long started upon his meal and had just finished his first glass of champagne, when he saw a well-dressed and distinguished-looking man enter the restaurant and start walking in his direction.
for a moment he just idly regarded the man as someone with whose face and figure he was faintly familiar. then the blood surged into his head and he felt his heart beating like a sledge hammer as he recognised who the man was.
it was von ravenheim, the baltic ambassador!
a few shuddering moments passed and then he saw von ravenheim stop to exchange greetings with some members of a party at a large table. the greetings were animated and the ambassador was all smiles and courtly good nature.
larose pulled himself together. he would give nothing away, and if von ravenheim came nearer he would pretend not to know him. he turned his eyes away and, to distract his thoughts, took in the fresh and glowing beauty of a young girl at a near-by table.
quite a minute passed, and, with his eyes upon his plate, he now proceeded calmly with his meal. then a shadow fell upon his table; and, looking up, he saw von ravenheim standing right before him.
the ambassador was smiling. “is this seat engaged?” he asked.
larose shook his head. “not that i know of,” he replied and his voice was perfectly steady. then he smiled in his turn. “at any rate, i am not expecting anyone.”
von ravenheim bowed and at once seated himself. then a waiter appearing he thoughtfully considered the menu for a few moments before giving his order. larose regarded him with a slight frown.
the waiter went off and von ravenheim spoke at once. “and how are you feeling today, mr. larose?” he asked. “quite all right?”
larose looked as if he were mildly surprised at the question, but he replied most politely. “yes, thank you, quite all right.”
“and you don’t mind speaking to me?” asked the ambassador genially.
“certainly not!” replied larose, as if rather puzzled. “of course, i know who you are. you are herr von ravenheim, the baltic ambassador.”
von ravenheim nodded as if it were a good joke, and then made a shrugging little gesture. “of course, it was annoying to me,” he said, “and i don’t pretend it wasn’t. but it’s all in the game we both play, you on one side and i on the other, and i don’t grudge you your success.”
larose looked very mystified. “what success do you refer to, sir?” he asked. “i don’t understand.”
the ambassador laughed. “i see! you mean it was only half a success. you didn’t get what you wanted, but yet you still live to fight again. that’s the way we look at it, isn’t it? that’s your idea?”
“i’ve no idea,” smiled larose. “frankly, i don’t understand you at all.”
von ravenheim spoke a little sharply. “well, i couldn’t put it more plainly if i spoke in my mother tongue.” he smiled mockingly. “but there, i don’t suppose you understand baltic, either!”
the waiter arrived with a grilled sole and placed it before him. he attacked the fish with evident relish, and a short silence followed. then he spoke again.
“both those young ladies are very charming!” he said. he regarded larose in a most friendly way. “i expect you three have done a lot of team-work together!” he nodded. “you know i’m beginning to think we have been holding you people too lightly. your accomplishments and those of the girls are of a very high order, and i admit that, up to a certain point, you took us in completely.”
“oh, we did, did we!”, laughed larose. “the two young ladies and i?”
“most certainly!” said von ravenheim. he spoke earnestly. “but i’m quite willing to exchange information. so if you tell me how you came to get hold of that fellow, pellew, i’ll put you wise as to how i came to find out who you were, and, unhappily, too late, to learn all about the young ladies.”
larose spoke sharply. “look here, sir, i don’t understand the meaning of anything you say. you’re making a great mistake somehow. certainly, my name is larose, and i know who you are”— he puckered up his face into a frown —“but, surely, we have never spoken to each other before!”
von ravenheim nodded understandingly. “so that’s the line you are going to take, is it?” he spoke as if very curious. “what do you hope to gain by it?”
“a little peace, perhaps,” said larose. he smiled. “i’m not tasting any of this chicken.”
for quite a long moment the ambassador regarded him intently. then he said thoughtfully, “you’re a very clever fellow! yes, it would have been a pity if your talents had been lost to the world.”
then both continued their meal in silence, with a ghost of a doubt now beginning to steal into von ravenheim’s mind. he saw larose was pretending to take no notice of him, and yet, every now and then, was casting furtive glances in his direction, as if he were very puzzled about him. and that would be, the ambassador had to admit, an action quite natural to a man who had been taken for someone he was not by somebody who would not admit his mistake.
von ravenheim sighed. “have you got a double, mr. larose?”
the face of larose brightened, “ah, i understand your mistake now! yes, i used to have one, but i’ve not heard of him for years.”
“who was he?”
“i never could learn. all i know is that when i was in the c.i.d. i was several times supposed to have been seen in places i had never been near.”
“thank you, mr. larose,” said von ravenheim. “i see i was mistaken and i apologise.” he smiled, larose thought, very disarmingly. “still, i am glad that my stupid blunder has enriched me by making your acquaintance. i’d like to see more of you, and so will you come to dinner with me one night?”
“not at the embassy,” replied larose laughingly. “it wouldn’t do. it would be sure to get known. then if i had ever done work for the secret service, as of course, your question and my answer certainly imply, they would think at headquarters that i had got my fingers in your fabled money-chest.”
“but it wouldn’t be fabled to a man like you, mr. larose,” commented von ravenheim significantly. then seeing larose frown, he added quickly, “but come, let’s talk of different things. the orchestra’s very good here, isn t it?”
half an hour later, when larose had parted with the ambassador and left the restaurant, he drew in a deep breath.
“fancy the wretch trying to bribe me and inviting me to the embassy for dinner. why, i wouldn’t go there alone again for a million pounds! the bluff came off all right, but i wouldn’t have troubled to put it up if i hadn’t thought it might keep suspicion away from those girls. but he evidently knows all about them now, even to their understanding baltic. but i say, i must warn them instantly. these devils will stick at nothing, and blitzen will lead them blindfold into some trap! i’ll ring them up at once.”
but when he phoned the arragon hotel he learned to his great dismay that the misses castle and herr blitzen had all gone away, leaving no addresses. the busy clerk at the other end of the phone did not think to add that they had not all gone off together.
in the meanwhile, von ravenheim was being driven to the british museum, all the time going over in his mind his just-finished conversation with larose. when in the latter’s presence he had been completely won over to the opinion that he had made a ghastly mistake, but now he was not feeling quite so certain.
one little thing in particular was disturbing him. as a connoisseur in eating and drinking, he had noted with approval larose’s choice of the dishes upon the menu; and, in that respect, he had summed him up as a man who would get the best out of everything in the proper way. but now he remembered that, just after he had sat down at larose’s table and begun to speak to him, larose, although outwardly perfectly calm and collected, had started to sip his champagne.
and von ravenheim now told himself that no man of larose’s undoubted experience would ever sip any sparkling wine unless he were nervous and not thinking of what he was doing.
then suddenly he snapped his fingers together with a gesture of intense annoyance. “damnation,” he exclaimed. “i could have settled the matter in two seconds. i could have asked him to turn up his sleeve and show me only just above his wrist. i saw that fool prick the man there to save pulling off his coat when they were holding him down.”
in the early afternoon the ambassador was back again in the embassy. he went into his study to find herr blitzen reclining in a big arm chair.
although he was loth to mention the girls again, he thought it best to dispel any lingering doubts herr blitzen might hold as to exactly what their activities had been.
“i have just come from the british museum,” he said. “i went into the library there and found out something more about the miss castles. i thought they were highly educated girls, and was of opinion that their conversation suggested a university training, and i have discovered i was right. when i looked up the cambridge university calendar i saw they had both been to newnham college. miss cecily took first-class honors in modern languages; and ours was one included in the curriculum.”
herr blitzen nodded. “i am not surprised,” he said. “she is a wonderful girl!” he frowned. “look here, ravenheim, that she has been working against us makes no difference to my appreciation of her. it is only natural she should be on the side of her own people; and i don’t blame her for it.”
“no, that is quite understandable,” admitted the ambassador. he nodded in his turn. “still, it is well your excellency has found it all out before you ——” he hesitated —“had compromised yourself in any way.”
“but i intend to compromise myself, as you call it,” commented herr blitzen coldly, “just the same as if we had not found out anything.” he spoke decisively. “when i return to our country i shall take her back with me.”
von ravenheim felt a cold shiver run down his spine. this man who understood his countrymen so well that he could sway millions to his side, this man who in a few short years had raised his country from the depths up to the heights, never showing the slightest mercy to anyone who had stood in his way — was now becoming as weak as water in his infatuation for a woman of a hated race!
for the moment it flashed through the ambassador’s mind that the man who had purged so many must now be purged himself. he must be got rid of before he had laid in ruins the mighty edifice he had built! he must be made to disappear as an arch betrayer of the people who had raised him to his despotic power.
and it would be easy, so easy now that he was away from all protection. only one person in his own country knew he was not in his mountain home. ah! but was that so? the british secret service had learnt it somehow and — no, no, he must not be dealt with in that way! it would not be safe! and besides, he was still needed. without him the might of the fatherland might crumble again! yes, he was still needed, for he was the only one who could hold it together! so, he must be saved in some other way.
all this long train of thought had run its dreadful course through von ravenheim’s mind in the passing of a few seconds and, in the flight of another second, the solution of the whole matter came to him, too.
it was the girl who must be got rid of. she must be placed beyond his reach! she would soon be forgotten and then all would be well again!
he spoke most respectfully. “your excellency knows best, but how will you find miss cecily again?”
“that will be easy,” replied the herr blitzen. “she had two letters while she was at the hotel, both in the same handwriting, a woman’s. she read them at the breakfast table and happened to drop one as she was going out. i picked it up for her and saw the postmark was haslemere. i’ve just looked the place up in your maps. it is not fifty miles from london, and i shall go to find her when we have done with those two men.”
he spoke with enthusiasm. “ah, i will make a baltic woman of her and she will work for us just as she now works for england. i shall have complete trust in her.” and von ravenheim, who looked on all women as playthings, smiled pityingly to himself.
the ambassador was never one who let the grass grow under his feet, and within an hour of his conversation with herr blitzen, he was setting in motion machinery, that useful as he was to the country, would instantly have earned for him the death penalty had his master only known.
he had summoned one of his most trusted agents, who arrived that night at the embassy and was closeted with him for a long time.
in appearance, this agent was very different from what might have been expected of one who was to be commissioned forcibly to seize a young woman, drug her into unconsciousness if necessary, and carry her away to be held prisoner for an unspecified period of time. indeed, it was even to be suggested to him that if she met with some accident it would not be a matter to grieve over.
of baltic nationality, the agent was quite a pleasant-looking man in the early forties. he was stout, with a large round face, and his big glasses gave him an air of kindly benevolence.
and he was pleasant and kind, too, in his ordinary life as a shrewd and prosperous business man, with a good house in hampstead, a nice car and a seaside bungalow near pevensey bay.
but let anyone impugn the greatness of the country, let them say that she would never rule the world, and instantly an astounding transformation would take place. the lines of his face would harden, his eyes would glare balefully; and in his arguments he would be lost to all sense of right and wrong.
secretly also, his emotions played upon by the leaders of his country, he would, if need arose, be quite prepared to back his words with deeds. indeed, there was no danger he would not run and no suffering he would not put up with himself or inflict on others in his fervent patriotism. he would work without reward, too, and would obey like a well-trained dog.
von ravenheim explained what was wanted of him. there were two sisters, he said, whom it had just been found out were being employed by the british secret service. mainly because of their good looks they had succeeded in obtaining the confidence of several baltic agents, and now they were betraying them one by one.
the elder sister was the more to be feared; and she, at all events, must be dealt with at once. their names were cecily and hilda castle and their home was at haslemere in hampshire.
“now herr sharlen,” went on von ravenheim impressively, “what i want you to do is this. go down to haslemere tomorrow, take care that no suspicions are aroused, but find out everything you can about the girls. the elder one must be got hold of somehow and taken to a place i will tell you later. but everything must be arranged so that no one knows what has happened to her. she must be seized when she is quite alone.”
“is their house in the town of haslemere?” asked herr sharlen.
“i don’t know,” replied the ambassador, “and that’s what you’ve got to find out. you must get a grip of the whole situation; what are her habits and where it will be easiest to get hold of her.”
“but what if she isn’t at home?”
“then you must do your best to find out where she’s gone. in a little place like haslemere most things are known. now, the matter is urgent, and by the end of the week the whole thing must be done.”
“all right,” nodded herr sharlen, “and if i’ve anything to report i’ll be here again tomorrow night. if i don’t come, i’ll ring you up from another town. you see, these enquiries may take a day or two.”
but he was back again the next night and his news was most satisfactory. both the girls were at home and their house was conveniently situated in its own grounds, about a mile from the town. it was lonely and back away from the main road. he had had cecily castle pointed out to him and had spoken to her. she went golfing every morning about eleven o’clock; and the golf course was half a mile away. to reach it, by a short cut, she went along some narrow, unfrequented lanes.
“excellent, you are serving your country well, herr sharlen!” exclaimed the ambassador with enthusiasm. he spoke impressively. “now there are two places you can take her, either a short run to the house of one of our friends in the new forest, or if you are not pressed and you do not think a hue and cry will be raised until night, to a better place on dartmoor. but move your chair here and look at these maps.”
then poor cecily would have shuddered if she could but have learnt the preparations which were being made for her.
in the meantime, if the forces of evil were working against her, she was yet not without a friend, for larose, with characteristic energy, was working night and day to get in touch with her. he was sure she was in danger.
but he was badly handicapped in one respect.
intensely grateful for what the girls had done for him, he was yet of opinion that they were helping herr blitzen in some way and, if it were found out, they would get into trouble.
so he did not want to make his enquiries too openly and bring down suspicion upon them. but for that idea in his mind he would have gone straight to lady willingdean and asked her all about them and found out where they lived. still his life’s training had made him resourceful; and he thought he could manage it in another way.
he cast his mind back to all he had noticed about the girls, when both at the arragon hotel and wickham towers. certainly, there was not much to help him but he remembered one thing.
when at wickham towers, sir henry had with great pride been pointing out some valuable etchings upon the wall and had stated that one was by some american. then cecily had exclaimed. “oh, i know that church well. i’ve often been in it. i lived in that neighbourhood in my early girlhood.”
larose had not looked at the etchings, as he had not been a bit interested, but he recalled the incident now and at once rang up sir henry.
“forgive my bothering you,” he said, “but you’ve got an etching at wickham towers by some american, and i thought i recognised the spot yesterday when motoring in kent. was it of rainton village, near rye?”
“oh, no,” replied sir henry, “it’s of long roding church in norfolk, not far from aylsham. it’s by whistler.” he laughed. “i’m glad your criminal mind takes notice of churches. i should have thought it would only register prisons and penitentiaries!”
ten minutes later larose had started off for norfolk in his car. he first made for aylsham and then began enquiring if anyone of the name of castle lived round there. he tried, with no success, however, the post office and some of the shops. but in no wise dismayed, he began a systematic tour all round the district, now somewhat changing the form of his question and asking everyone he approached if they remembered anyone called castle who had lived about there from twelve to fifteen years ago.
at last he learned what he wanted from an elderly chemist in cromer. the chemist remembered a colonel castle, who had lived at little easter about eight miles away, and had often made up prescriptions for him. yes, there had been two girls in the family which had left the neighbourhood a number of years ago.
then, at the village of little easter, larose had no trouble in learning of a colonel castle. he was dead now, but his widow and daughters were living in haslemere in hampshire.
“good for you, gilbert,” smiled larose to himself, as he drove quickly away. “evidently, there are no flies on you yet! but fancy picking up the trail in these few hours from just happening to overhear that chance remark the pretty cecily made!” he nodded. “still, not everyone would have thought of it.”
the next morning by ten o’clock he was in haslemere and had soon learnt where the misses castle lived. then, not wishing to attract attention and wanting to get hold of cecily when herr blitzen was not hovering about, he left his car in a hotel garage and proceeded to make his way to where they lived by a short cut the landlord had pointed out.
the house had been described to him as one with red gables and lying in a hollow and, coming over the rise of a hill, he soon saw it in the distance. then he entered a winding lane to approach it.
all his senses now very much on the alert, he noticed car tracks in the soft ground and, as a life habit of never missing anything, he began speculating as to what kind of car had made them. the wheel marks were broad and heavy. suddenly he saw they turned out of the lane into what looked like the entrance to a gravel pit, and, after a moment’s hesitation, he followed them.
about a hundred yards further on, turning round a sharp bend, he came upon a big car. there was no one in it, and immediately he began taking it all in.
the tyres were nearly all new, there were two spares, both absolutely new and strapped on at the back, the petrol tank was nearly full, and there were four two-gallon tins of spirit strapped on to the running board.
“prepared for a long run,” he told himself, “and so there’ll be no need for them to pull up anywhere on the way for juice. all provided, too, for any punctures.” he looked at the number plates, t.a.48563, and shook his head. “all different figures,” he went on, “and difficult to remember if one had only taken them in casually as the car passed.”
he looked inside the car and then screwed up his eyes. “now that’s very funny! all this amount of petrol on board for a long journey, and no luggage! they’ve got two big rugs, though, and with the weather hot like this!”
he walked round to the front of the car and, stepping back, took in its beautiful proportions. “seventy miles an hour, easily,” he went on, “and ——” but a thought struck him, and instantly he moved up close and bent down over the number plate. “why, it’s new! but mud has been deliberately rubbed on it to take off the freshness, and that corner’s been missed.” he looked at the back of the plate and saw the threads of the screws protruding through the bolts were quite bright, and that there was not a speck of mud or dust upon them. “gosh, they’ve just been put on, since the car was hidden here!”
he cast a quick glance round and, seeing there was still no one about, opened the car door like lightning and pulled up the seat. the first thing he saw was another pair of number plates and, whisking out his pocket book, he jutted down y.22041.
“that’s a london registration!” he nodded. “nearly all the london letters are y’s and l’s.” he put back the seat with no delay and reclosed the door. his breath was coming quickly. “this may be the baltic crowd after those girls! oh, if i’m too late!” his face brightened. “no, i’m not, but i’ll see to it no one goes off in a hurry in this car!”
in a few seconds he had unscrewed all the valves and the wind was hissing out of every tyre.
then he ran back into the lane, but in a few yards had pulled himself up, just in time. there were three men behind the hedge not a hundred yards farther down, and their attitude was one of waiting! fortunately, they were not looking in his direction, but one of them, he was sure he recognised as being one of the men who had sprung upon him that night at the baltic embassy.
he thought quickly, and then, racing back, made a wide detour round the gravel pit to gain the house in the hollow from a different direction. he was blowing hard when he reached the gates of the short drive leading up to the house. he slowed down to get his breath, and then, when almost up to the front door, cecily castle stepped out right before him. she had a golf bag slung over her shoulder.
“hullo,” he exclaimed as heartily as his shortness of breath would allow him, “here we are again!”
cecily went furiously red and looked rather frightened.
“look here,” went on larose, pantingly. “i’ve only just got here in time!” he pointed with his arm. “there are three men waiting in that lane there with a car, and they were going to carry you off!”
cecily’s eyes opened very wide and her face lost all its crimson. “but how do you know?” she began, and then hilda and a young fellow in the uniform of an officer stepped out of the front door behind her.
“what’s this about carrying anybody off?” asked the officer sternly, “and who are you?”
“it’s all right, harold,” interposed cecily quickly. “i know this gentleman, and what he says will be quite true.”
larose took no notice of the question which had been addressed to him. instead, he lowered his voice and asked, whispering, of cecily, “where’s herr blitzen?”
cecily made a little frowning shake of her head, as if warning him not to repeat the question. “we are all alone today, mr. larose.” she spoke nervously. “but i must introduce you. this is captain best, and harold — this is mr. gilbert larose”— a half smile came into her face —“a good friend of ours.”
larose gave a curt nod in reply to the captain’s frowning one, and then asked sharply, “are there any more men about the place? because, if so, get them here at once!”
“but what’s happening, mr. larose?” asked hilda. “tell us, first. we don’t understand.”
“what is happening, miss hilda,” replied larose, with a grim smile, “is that there are three ugly-looking men up that lane, and i’m absolutely positive they are waiting to seize one or both of you and rush you off in a car.” he nodded. “at least one of them is a foreigner, and i’ve met him before in a certain house in portland place.” he turned to the young officer. “excuse my abruptness, sir, but the matter is a very urgent one.”
“i’ll go and get johnson,” said cecily, her face, with the excitement, now returning to its natural color. “he’s our chauffeur and an old army man.”
“but we’ll all go into the house, first,” said larose. he smiled for the first time. “my word, but it’s lucky they can’t see this front door from the lane!”
they went into the house and closed the door behind them. “the devil of it,” said larose, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. “i’ve got no pistol on me. i never dreamed i’d want one.”
“but i’ve got a bayard!” said cecily, her eyes dancing; “a little beauty!”
“good girl!” exclaimed larose. “get it at once; oh, and show me where the telephone is!”
she pointed behind him and he slipped up the receiver.
“police station. haslemere, quick; it’s urgent!” he rapped out, and after a few seconds he asked, “who’s speaking? all right then, constable! i’m speaking from miss castle’s house. you know where it is? good! well, there are three men loitering in the lane at the side of the house — what’s it called, hilda — oh, hanger’s lane. they are up to no good. one is — and they may all be foreigners. they’ve got a motor car with two sets of number plates. one set has just been put on and the other is under the cushion of the front seat. ask to see their driving licences. oh, and the car is hidden just round in that gravel pit. you know the pit? well, come down the lane that way. now, are you the only constable in the station? what! the sergeant from hindhead and another one has just come there! splendid! then you all come down from the top of the land and we’ll meet you at the bottom, so that they’ll be in a trap. no, no, they can’t get away in a hurry. i’ve seen to that and let all the wind out of their tyres! now, whatever you do, come with revolvers or something. they are sure to be well armed.”
he hung up the receiver and turned to cecily. “now, have you got any guns here?” he asked.
“yes, two double-barrelled ones,” replied the girl, and very speedily the guns were produced and loaded.
“now, you’d like to come out and see the fun, wouldn’t you, captain best?” asked larose.
“rather!” exclaimed the young officer. he frowned. “of course i don’t understand what it all means”— he looked hard at cecily, “although, perhaps, i might make a pretty good guess. myself, i don’t approve of girls meddling in ——”
“never mind that now, harold,” said cecily, sweetly. “we’ll explain a little bit to you when it’s all over.” she turned to larose. “we’re coming with you, too.”
but larose objected strongly and a short argument ensued. finally, a compromise was effected when both cecily and hilda promised to keep a good way behind.
“well, we’ve given the police time enough now to be pretty close,” said larose. “come on.”
so a formidable little party, reinforced by a big and business-like looking irish terrier, turned into the lane, with larose, captain best and the chauffeur walking well in front.
“that’s where i saw them hiding,” said larose, softly, “behind the hedge not far from that oak tree. fire one barrel of your gun somewhere, captain, so that they’ll know its loaded. we must be in good view by now.”
the captain stopped immediately and, as though he had seen a rabbit or something in the field on the other side of the hedge just by them, lifted his gun quickly and fired.
“missed him!” he called out. “he went down the burrow. oh, come back, ginger! come back, you brute,” and the dog, who had started excitedly to push through the hedge, returned reluctantly to his master’s heels.
“send him on!” whispered larose with a chuckle. “he’ll rout them out!”
obedient to a command, the dog ran forward and in a few seconds began to bark vociferously at a point in the hedge just beyond the oak tree larose had pointed out.
then through a gap in the hedge three men appeared and started to walk leisurely up the lane, with their backs turned towards the little party.
“it couldn’t be better,” whispered larose, exultingly. “they’ll run right into the arms of the police. go slowly now, so that we don’t overtake them.”
an exciting couple of minutes passed and then, just where the lane began to turn the men stopped walking and appeared to be interested in a flight of crows passing overhead.
“they’ve seen them,” said larose. “we’ll close up now,” and not a minute later three policemen appeared round the bend.
one of the policemen, who had the sergeant’s stripes upon his sleeve, jerked his thumb in the direction of the gravel pit and, addressing himself to the three men, “that car in there belong to any of you?” he asked.
“yes,” replied one of them, who was the herr sharpel, the friend of the baltic ambassador. he spoke gutturally, with a foreign accent. “it is mine.”
“oh, then, come and see what someone’s done to your tyres,” said the sergeant. “i don’t suppose you left them like that,” and the three men were conducted into the turning leading to the gravel pit.
“come on,” said larose to captain best and the chauffeur. “we may be wanted, too.” and they followed closely upon the heels of the others.
then larose whistled softly to himself. “whew! i was right,” he whispered. “that bull-necked chap with the square head is one of those brutes from the embassy. i thought he was.”
that the recognition was mutual was evident, too, for the bull-necked man, upon catching sight of larose, averted his face quickly.
“now then, show me your driving licence,” said the sergeant sharply to herr sharpel.
the man made a movement with his hand towards his breast pocket, but then quickly dropped his arm to his side. “i’m very sorry,” he said, “but i haven’t got it with me. i’ve left it at home!”
“that won’t do!” snapped the sergeant. “take our your pocket book and look for it. you’ve got it in there, right enough!”
“i haven’t,” said herr sharpel. he spoke boldly. “i know the law. you will have to give me forty-eight hours to produce it.”
“your name and address?” asked the sergeant.
“mr. leonard merk, 14 rondel avenue, victoria park, manchester. i am on tour with my friends.”
then while one of the constables was making a note, the sergeant, apparently for the first time, noticed the addition to the party, standing round the car, and he looked frowningly from one to the other of them, his gaze remaining at last upon larose.
larose spoke up at once. “it was i who rang the police station, sergeant,” he said. “my name is larose, gilbert larose.”
the sergeant smiled. “i thought i recognised your face, sir.” he became very grim again. “do you know anything about these men?”
“i suspect a great deal more than i know,” replied larose, “but undoubtedly they were loitering with unlawful intent. as for being upon a tour, look at all the petrol they’ve got on board, and not a stitch of luggage!”
“we’ll see into that, sir,” said the sergeant. he turned to herr sharpel. “now then, if you please,” he asked very sternly, “what does it mean your carrying about two differing sets of number plates?” and he whipped up the front seat of the car and exposed the second set.
it looked as if herr sharpel had muttered an oath, but he replied plausibly and quickly. “those belonged to the car before i bought it. i have only had it a little while.”
“well, you’ll come straight away to the station with me,” said the sergeant, “and i’ll verify the name and address you have given. you’ll wait until i’ve found out about both these numbers. we’ll soon know. the telephone doesn’t take long.”
but larose knew so well the psychology of the picked workers for the baltic cause and how, with all their twisted ideas of right and wrong, they would yet stand loyally by one another in the interests of the fatherland. so he was fearing now that, if the owner of the car were the only one of the three to be detained, no opportunity of proving anything against the other two would ever be given to the police. the men would give false names and addresses and just disappear.
but he was determined there should be some grounds for laying an immediate charge against them.
so, remembering von ravenheim had said in this shooting gallery that all in the embassy were trained shots, he felt quite certain the bull-necked man would be carrying an automatic now. accordingly, without a second’s warning, he sprang upon him and pinioning his arms to his sides, called out sharply, “quick, quick, help me hold him. he was going to pull a gun! take it out of his back pocket!”
instantly one of the policemen was by his side and a great sigh of thankfulness surged through him as the constable dragged out an automatic from the pocket he had indicated.
“fully loaded, sergeant,” said the constable.
“hands up, you two!” roared the sergeant to herr sharpel and the third man, and two more automatics were found.
larose heard a startled exclamation behind him and turned to find cecily standing there. her eyes were opened wide in surprise.
“i’ve met that man before,” she said with a little catch in her breath, pointing to herr sharpel. she went on quickly. “he called at the house yesterday morning pretending that he had heard it was to let. he wanted to be very friendly. he saw my clubs in the hall and asked me the nearest way to the golf course. i told him up this lane and then very stupidly said i golfed nearly every morning.” she bit her lip. “perhaps they were waiting for me!”
“all right, miss,” the sergeant assured her. “we’ll see into it thoroughly.” he turned to the three men who were now being guarded. “get into the back of the car and no tricks,” he ordered. but then, larose having whispered something in his ear he added. “wait a minute, though.” he nodded to the two policemen. “search them!”
but herr sharpel, who had been standing silent and swallowing hard, at once woke to speech, and shouted angrily, “i protest. i refuse to be searched. i know the law, and you can’t do it.”
“i can do anything,” snapped the sergeant, “with men i’ve caught carrying loaded automatics.” he glared round at the three of them. “have any of you got a license to carry a pistol? no, i thought not!” he nodded again to the constables. “see what they’ve got in their pockets.” he half smiled. “they may be carrying poison for self-destruction.”
and the first thing they came upon in the wallet in herr sharpel’s breast pocket was the driving licence made out in his proper name.
“yes, you’re mr. leonard merk all right!” commented the sergeant grimly. “and you live in manchester, too, don’t you?” he looked unpleasant. “well, we’ll know all about you soon.”
then for a few minutes larose, the sergeant and cecily, with the local constable standing by, conversed whisperingly together.
but the haslemere policeman presently interposed with a remark.
“but you see, sergeant,” he explained, “miss castle’s work at the foreign office would always make her a bit of a mark for any foreigners. they would be thinking they would get out of her certain information and ——”
“my work at the foreign office!” exclaimed cecily with blazing eyes. “what do you know about me?”
“well, miss,” said the constable, looking rather sheepish. “i know you’re in the building there because a cousin of my wife is one of the commissionaires, and he pointed you out to me when he was down here one sunday,” and larose chuckled at the girl’s discomfiture.
the sergeant went off with his prisoners and larose returned with the others to the red-gabled house in the hollow. he stayed to lunch and then, after the meal, cecily took him out into the garden.
“i expect you’re very puzzled about me, mr. larose,” she said, “but i’m sorry i can’t explain. my secret is not my own.”
“well, what about that herr blitzen?” frowned larose. he looked her straight in the face and asked very sternly. “have you and your sister got mixed up with that baltic crowd?”
“certainly not!” replied cecily indignantly. “you heard that silly policeman let out i work at the foreign office, and it’s quite true.”
“that may be,” said larose dryly. “but what are your relations with herr blitzen?”
“i have no relations with herr blitzen,” replied the girl. “i’ve finished with him and, although in some respects i cannot help admiring him. i don’t want to ever meet him again.”
“but that’s not good enough for me,” persisted larose. “you’ll have to put your cards down now. i don’t forget what you’ve done for me, but perhaps”— he nodded significantly —“what i did for you this morning has made things even!” his face was grim and set. “attractive as you are, it doesn’t cut any ice with me in a grave matter like this. now you know what i mean, so on which side are you, miss castle?”
for a long moment cecily regarded him thoughtfully. then she said very sweetly. “on the side of the angels, mr. larose, that is, if you’re one”— her voice thrilled in its sincerity —“and for the trouble you took to trace me here i think you must be.” she inclined her head ironically. “my dear sir, don’t think you’re the only one who works for our secret service, and if you have any further doubts about me or my sister, ask lord michael or perhaps better still, your great admirer, mr. grant.”
“quite satisfied,” smiled larose, “and very relieved as well.” he reached out suddenly and lifting up her hand carried it to his lips. “there,” he exclaimed fervently, “you’re the last girl i’ve ever kissed.”
she pretended to look round anxiously. “it’s a good thing captain best didn’t see you,” she nodded, “as we are engaged to be married, and he might perhaps object.”
“not he,” said larose — he laughed slyly —“for no doubt it is his privilege to kiss you somewhere else!”
that night larose, back in town, rang up the baltic embassy and, with some delay and after a lot of wanting to know his business, was put through to the ambassador.
“larose speaking, gilbert larose,” he said sharply.
“ah,” came a mocking voice over the phone, “the real gilbert larose, or his double?”
“the real and only one,” snapped larose, “and if you meet him again you may perhaps wish you hadn’t. now look here, herr von ravenheim. you leave those two castle girls alone in future. you won’t get them, for after yesterday they’ll be as well guarded as the queen of england. those three brutes you sent down to haslemere all met trouble and if you want to learn what happened to them, ring up scotland yard or look in the newspapers tomorrow morning. good-night, or rather — a damned unpleasant one for you!” and he rang off immediately.