CONFRONTING THE INTRUDER
The discovery was a beautifully unexpected one, but I was getting used
to surprises by this time. I bobbed down at once behind the sea-wall,
and crouched there for a moment wondering what was the best thing to
do. After what I had found out it seemed hardly probable that Latimer
could be there in the capacity of McMurtrie's caretaker; but if not,
how on earth had he hit upon the place, and what was he doing prowling
about inside it?
Raising myself up again with extreme care I had another look through
the grass. Latimer had left the building and was stooping down
in front of the door of the shed, his attention being obviously
concentrated on the lock. I was rather a long way off, but as far as I
could see he appeared to be trying to slip back the bolt with the aid
of a piece of wire.
I think that decided me. However dangerous it might be to show myself,
it seemed still more risky to allow some one of whose motives I was
at present completely ignorant to inspect my future workshop. Almost
before I realized what I was doing I had slipped over the bank and
dropped down on to the marsh.
The slight noise I made must have reached Latimer's ears, for he
wheeled round with amazing promptness. At the same instant his right
hand travelled swiftly into the side pocket of his coat--a gesture
which I found sufficiently illuminating in view of what I was carrying
myself in a similar place. When he saw how far off I was he seemed
to hesitate for a moment; then pulling out a case he coolly and
deliberately lit himself a cigarette, and after taking a quick glance
round started to stroll slowly towards me. I noticed that he still
kept his hand in his side pocket.
My mind was working pretty rapidly as we approached each other. What
would happen seemed to me to depend chiefly upon whether Latimer had
seen me in the restaurant, and had guessed that it was I who had sent
him the message. If not, it struck me that he must be wondering rather
badly who I was and what connection I had with the hut.
When we were still twenty yards apart he pulled up and waited for me,
smoking his cigarette with every appearance of tranquil enjoyment.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said in a pleasant, lazy voice, "but I
wonder if you could tell me who this building belongs to?"
I came to a halt right in front of him. "Well," I replied boldly,
"until I saw you coming out of the door just now I was under the
impression that I was the legal tenant."
He smiled, and taking off his hat made me a slight bow.
"I must really beg your pardon," he said. "I was trespassing
shamelessly. The fact of the matter is that I am acting on behalf of
the District Surveyor, and finding the door open and being unable to
get any answer, I took the liberty of looking inside."
If ever in my life I felt confident that a man was telling me a lie it
was at that moment, but my belief was certainly due to no fault of Mr.
Latimer's. He spoke with a coolness and an apparent candour that would
have done credit to a Cabinet Minister.
"The District Surveyor!" I repeated. "And what does that distinguished
person want with me?"
Mr. Latimer made a gesture towards the hut with his disengaged hand.
"It's nothing of any real importance," he said, "but you appear to
have been making some slight alterations here. This wooden building--"
"It's only a temporary structure," I interrupted.
He nodded. "Quite so. Still there are certain bye-laws which we have
to see attended to. The Surveyor happened to notice it the other day
when he was passing, and he asked me to find out the exact purpose it
was intended for. We are bound to make some restrictions about wooden
buildings on account of the extra chance of their catching fire."
The idea of the District Surveyor being seriously perturbed over the
possibility of my being roasted alive struck me as rather improbable,
but I was careful not to give any impression of doubting the
statement.
"As a matter of fact," I said, "there is no chance of a tragedy
of that sort. I have taken the place to make a few experiments
in connection with photography. The stuff I am using is quite
uninflammable."
All the time I was speaking I was watching him carefully to see if
I could detect the least sign of his recognizing me. For any such
indication, however, we might have been utter strangers.
He accepted my falsehood as politely as I had received his.
"Well, in that case," he said, with a smile, "there is really no need
for me to bother you any further. I will tell the Surveyor that you
are a strictly law-abiding citizen. Meanwhile"--he stepped back and
again raised his hat--"let me apologize once more for having broken
into your place."
Whether there was any deliberate irony in his remark I was unable to
guess; his manner at all events gave no hint of it.
"You needn't apologize," I returned artlessly. "It was my own fault
for leaving the door open."
I thought I saw the faintest possible quiver at the corner of his
lips, but if so it was gone again at once.
"Yes," he said gravely. "You will find it safer to keep the place
locked up. Good-day, sir."
"Good-day," I replied, and turning deliberately away from him I
sauntered off towards the hut.
I did not look round until I had reached the door; and even then I
made a pretence of dropping my keys and stooping to pick them up. The
precaution, however, seemed a little superfluous. Mr. Latimer was some
thirty or forty yards away, walking inland across the marsh in the
direction of Tilbury. I couldn't help wondering whether he had noticed
the mast of the _Betty_, which was just visible in the distance,
sticking up demurely above the bank of the creek.
I stepped inside the hut--it was really little more than a hut--and
closed the door. The first impression I received was one of being back
in my prison cell. The only light in the place filtered in through a
tiny and very dirty window, which looked out in the direction that
Latimer had taken. For the rest, as soon as my eyes were used to the
gloom, I made out a camp bed with blankets on it, a small wooden table
and chair, a jug and basin, and in the farther corner of the room a
miscellaneous collection of cooking and eating utensils. There was
also a large wooden box which I imagined to contain food.
I took in all this practically at a glance, for my mind was still too
occupied with my late visitor to trouble much about anything else.
I sat down on the bed and tried to think out the situation clearly.
There could be no doubt that Latimer had been spying on the place,
if such an unpleasant word could be applied to a gentleman who was
supposed to be in Government service. The question was, what did he
suspect? I had pretty good evidence that he was up against McMurtrie
and the others in some shape or other, and presumably it was on
account of my connection with them that I had been favoured with his
attentions. Still, this didn't seem to make the situation any the more
cheerful for me. If Latimer was really a secret-service man, as some
one had told Tommy, it stood to reason that I must be assisting in
some particularly shady and dangerous sort of enterprise. I had no
special objection to this from the moral point of view, but on the
other hand I certainly didn't want to throw away my hardly-won liberty
before I had had the satisfaction of settling accounts with George.
I debated with myself whether it would be best to let McMurtrie know
that the place was being watched. To a certain extent his interests in
the matter seemed to be identical with mine, but my mistrust of him
was still strong enough to make me hesitate. Beyond his bare word and
that of Sonia I had no proof as yet that he intended to play straight
with me.
One thing appeared certain, and that was that Latimer had failed to
recognize me as the man who had sent him the warning at Parelli's. In
a way this gave me an advantage, but it was a forlorn enough sort of
advantage in view of the unknown dangers by which I was surrounded.
I got up off the bed, feeling anything but comfortable, and going to
the door had another look round. Latimer had disappeared behind the
thin belt of trees that fringed the Tilbury road, and so far as I
could see there was no one else about. Getting out my keys, I walked
along to the shed and opened the door.
If my living accommodation was a trifle crude, McMurtrie had certainly
made up for it here. He had evidently carried out my instructions
with the most minute care and an absolute disregard for expense. Lead
tanks, sinks, chemicals, an adequate water supply in the shape of
a pump--everything I had asked for seemed to have been provided. I
looked round the large, clean, well-lighted place with a sensation of
intense satisfaction. The mere sight of all these preparations made me
ache to begin work, for I was consumed with the impatience that any
inventor would feel who had been compelled to leave a big discovery on
the very verge of completion.
Coming out, I closed the door again, and carefully turned the key
behind me. Then walking back to the hut I locked that up as well. I
hadn't the faintest belief in Latimer's story about finding the place
open, and apart from making things safe I certainly didn't want to
leave any traces of my surprise visit. From what I knew of McMurtrie
I felt sure that he had left somebody in charge, and that in all
probability Latimer had merely taken advantage of their temporary
absence.
After a last glance all round, to make sure that the coast was still
clear, I walked rapidly down to the sea-wall and scrambled up on to
the top. The tide had risen a bit, but there was just room to get
along, so jumping down I set off on my return journey.
There was something very cheering and reassuring in the sight of the
_Betty_ riding easily at her anchor, as I made my way round the mouth
of the creek. Tommy and Joyce were both on deck: the former in his
shirt-sleeves, swabbing down his new paint with a wet mop. Directly
he saw me he abandoned the job to Joyce, and with a wave of his hand
proceeded to get out the dinghy. A minute later he was pulling for the
shore.
"All serene?" he inquired calmly, as he ran the boat up to where I was
standing.
"Yes," I said. "We needn't hurry; there's no one chasing me." Then
pushing her off the mud I jumped in. "I'll tell you the news," I
added, "when we get on board."
We headed off for the _Betty_, and as we came alongside and I handed
up the painter to Joyce, I felt rather like the raven must have
done when he returned to the Ark. As far as peace and security were
concerned, my outside world seemed to be almost as unsatisfactory as
his.
"How have you got on?" demanded Joyce eagerly.
I climbed up on to the deck.
"I've had quite an interesting time," I said. Then I paused and looked
round the boat. "Is Mr. Gow back?" I inquired.
Tommy shook his head. "Not yet. I expect he's blueing some of that
fiver in anticipation."
"Come and sit down, then," I said, "and I'll tell you all about it."
They both seated themselves beside me on the edge of the well, and
in as few words as possible I let them have the full story of my
adventures. At the first mention of Latimer's name Tommy indulged in a
low whistle, but except for that non-committal comment they listened
to me in silence.
Joyce was the first to speak when I had finished.
"It's hateful, isn't it?" she said. "I feel as if we were fighting in
the dark."
"That's just what we are doing," answered Tommy, "but we're letting in
a bit of light by degrees though." Then he turned to me. "McMurtrie's
got some game on, evidently, and this chap Latimer's dropped on it.
That was why they tried to put him out of the way."
"Yes," I said, "and if Latimer is really in the secret service, it
must be a precious queer sort of game too."
Tommy nodded. "I wonder if they're anarchists," he said, after a
short pause. "Perhaps they want your powder to blow up the Houses of
Parliament or the Law Courts with."
I laughed shortly. "No," I said. "Whatever McMurtrie's after, it's
nothing so useful and unselfish as that. If I thought it was I
shouldn't worry."
"Well, there's only one thing to do," observed Tommy, after a pause,
"and that's to go and look up Latimer, as I suggested. You're sure he
didn't recognize you?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm sure of nothing about him," I replied,
"except that he's a superb liar."
"We must risk it anyhow," said Tommy. "He's the only person who knows
anything of what's going on, and he evidently wants to find out who
sent him that note, or he wouldn't have answered it as he did. He'll
have to give me some sort of explanation if I go and see him. I
shall rub it into him that my supposed pal is a perfectly sensible,
unimaginative sort of chap--and anyway people don't invent a yarn like
that."
"Look!" interrupted Joyce suddenly. "Isn't that Mr. Gow coming along
by those trees?"
She pointed away down the creek, and following her direction I saw the
figure of our trusty retainer trudging back towards the ship, with a
bundle over his shoulder. He had exchanged Tommy's picturesque outfit
for some garments of his own, more in keeping with his new and
dignified position.
"I'll pick him up," I said; "but what are we going to do about getting
back? We had better not try Tilbury, or we may run into Latimer; it
would put the hat on everything if he saw us together."
Tommy consulted his watch. "It's just half-past three now," he said.
"I vote we run across to Gravesend and catch the train there. Old
Whiskers can bring the boat back here after we've gone--if he's still
sober."
"Of course he's sober," said Joyce; "look at the beautiful way he's
walking."
I should hardly have applied quite such a complimentary adjective to
Mr. Gow's gait myself, but all the same Joyce's diagnosis proved to
be quite correct. Mr. Gow was sober--most undoubtedly and creditably
sober. I rowed to the bank, and brought him on board, and when we told
him of our plans he expressed himself as being perfectly competent to
manage the return journey single-handed.
"You leave 'er to me," he remarked consolingly. "I shan't want no
help--not to bring 'er in here. Some people don't hold with being
alone in a boat, but that ain't Luke Gow's way."
He went forward to get up the anchor, while Tommy and I occupied
ourselves with the exciting sport of trying to start the engine. It
went off at last with its usual vicious kick, and a few minutes later
we were throbbing our way out of the creek into the main river.
The tide was right at its highest, and down the centre of the fairway
straggled a long procession of big hooting steamers, sluggish
brown-sailed barges, and small heavily-burdened tugs, puffing out
their usual trails of black smoke. One felt rather like a terrier
trying to cross Piccadilly, but by waiting for our chance we dodged
through without disaster, and pulled up in a comparatively tranquil
spot off the Gravesend landing-stage.
Tommy signalled to one of the boatmen who were hanging about the steps
waiting for stray passengers.
"This chap will take us off," he said, turning to Mr. Gow. "You push
straight back while the engine's running; she usually stops when we've
got about as far as this."
"And I'll come over to the creek some time tomorrow," I added; though
in my present circumstances a confident prophecy of any kind seemed a
trifle rash.
We went ashore and stood for a moment on the stage watching the
_Betty_ thread her course back through the traffic. Mr. Gow seemed
to handle her with perfect confidence, and relieved on this point we
turned round and set off for the station.
We found ourselves in luck's way. An unusually obliging train was due
to start in ten minutes' time, and as before we managed to secure an
empty compartment.
"I tell you what I want you to do when we get back to town, Joyce," I
said. "I want you to help me buy a hat."
"What's the matter with the one you're wearing?" demanded Tommy. "It
just suits your savage style of beauty."
"Oh, this new one isn't for me," I explained. "It's for a lady--a lady
friend, as we say."
"I didn't know you had any," said Joyce, "except me and Sonia."
I smiled arrogantly. "You underrate my attractions," I replied.
"Haven't I told you about Miss Gertie 'Uggins?" Then I proceeded to
sketch in Gertrude as well as I could, finishing up with the story of
her spirited determination to spend the five shillings I had given her
on a really fashionable head-dress.
Tommy slapped his leg and chuckled. "I believe any woman would starve
herself to death for something new to wear," he remarked.
"Of course she would," said Joyce with spirit--"any decent woman."
Then she turned to me. "I think it's sweet, Neil; I shall give her a
new hat myself, just because she loves you."
Tommy laughed again. "You'll find that an expensive hobby to keep up,
Joyce," he said. "You'll have to start a bonnet-shop."
All the way back to town we talked and joked in much the same strain,
as cheerfully as though none of us had a care in the world. If there
had been a stranger in the carriage listening to us, he would, I
think, have found it impossible to believe that I was Neil Lyndon,
the much-wanted convict, and that Tommy and Joyce were engaged in the
criminal pursuit of helping me avoid the police. No doubt, as I said
before, the very danger and excitement of our position accounted to
some extent for our high spirits, but in my case they were due even
more to a natural reaction from the misery of the last three years.
Ever since I had met Tommy and Joyce again I seemed to have been
shedding flakes off the crust of bitterness and hatred which had built
itself up round my soul.
Even my feelings towards George were slowly becoming less murderous.
I was still as determined as ever to get at the truth of his amazing
treachery if I could; but the savage loathing that I had previously
cherished for him was gradually giving place to a more healthy
sensation of contempt. I felt now that, whatever his motives may have
been, there would be far more satisfaction in kicking him than in
killing him. Besides, the former process was one that under favourable
circumstances could be repeated indefinitely.
"You're spending the evening with me, Neil, of course," observed
Tommy, as we drew into Charing Cross.
I nodded. "We'll take a taxi and buy the hat somewhere, and then drop
Joyce at Chelsea. After that I am open to any dissipation."
"Only keep away from the Savoy," said Joyce. "I am making my great
surrender there, and it would hamper me to have you and Tommy about."
We promised to respect her privacy, and then, getting out of the
train, which had drawn up in the station, we hailed a taxi and climbed
quickly into it. Charing Cross is the last place to dawdle in if you
have any objection to being recognized.
"Shall we be able to write to you?" asked Joyce. "I shall want to tell
you about George, and Tommy will want to let you know how he gets on
with Latimer. Of course I'm coming down to the boat in a day or two;
but all sorts of things may happen before then."
I thought rapidly for a moment. "Write to me at the Tilbury
post-office," I said. "Only don't make a mistake and address the
letter to Neil Lyndon. Too much excitement isn't good for a Government
official."
Tommy laughed. "It's just the sort of damn silly thing I should
probably have done," he said. "Can't you imagine the postmaster's face
when he read the envelope? I should like to paint it as a Christmas
supplement to the _Graphic_."
"Where did you tell the man to stop, Joyce?" I asked.
"Holland's," said Joyce. "I am going to buy Gertie a really splendid
hat--something with birds and flowers on it. I am sure I know just
what she'll think beautiful. I suppose I had better tell them to send
it round to you at Edith Terrace. You won't want to carry it about
London."
"Not unless Tommy likes to wear it," I said. "I think I'm disguised
enough as it is."
We pulled up outside Mr. Holland's imposing shop-front, and Joyce,
who was sitting next the door, got up from her seat. Then she leaned
forward and kissed me.
"Good-bye, Neil," she said. "I shall come down on Tuesday and go
straight to the _Betty_, unless I hear anything special from you
before then." She paused. "And oh, dear Neil," she added, "you will be
careful, won't you? If anything was to happen now, I believe I should
kill George and jump into the Thames."
"In that case," I said, "I shall be discretion itself. I couldn't
allow George anything like so charming an end; it would be quite
wasted on him."
Joyce smiled happily and, opening the door, jumped out on to the
pavement. "You keep the taxi on," she said. "I shall take a bus home.
I can't be hurried over buying a hat--even if it's for Gertie. Where
shall I tell the man to go to?"
"Better say the Studio," answered Tommy. "We both want a wash and a
drink before we start dissipating."
For an escaped murderer and his guilty accessory, I am afraid that our
dissipation proved to be rather a colourless affair. Tommy had always
had simple tastes in the way of amusement, and even if it had been
safe for us to parade the West End in each other's company, I
certainly had no wish to waste my time over a theatre or anything of
that sort. I found that real life supplied me with all the drama I
needed just at present.
What we actually did was to dine quietly in a little out-of-the-way
restaurant just off Sloane Square, and then play billiards for the
remainder of the evening in a room above a neighbouring tavern. We had
several most exciting games. In old days I had been able to beat
Tommy easily, but owing to a regrettable oversight on the part of the
Government there is no table at Princetown, and in consequence I was
rather short of practice.
Afterwards Tommy walked with me as far as Victoria, where we discussed
such arrangements for the future as we were in a position to make.
"I'll write to you, anyway, Neil," he said, "as soon as I've tackled
Latimer; and I'll probably come down with Joyce on Tuesday. If you
want me any time before, send me a wire."
I nodded. "You'll be more useful to me in London, Tommy," I said.
"All the threads of the business are up here. McMurtrie--Latimer--
George"--I paused--"I'd give something to know what those three do
between them," I added regretfully.
Tommy gripped my hand. "It's all right, old son," he said. "I'm not
much of a believer in inspirations and all that sort of rot, but
somehow or other I'm dead certain we're going to win out. I've had a
feeling like that ever since the trial--and so has Joyce."
"Thanks, Tommy," I said briefly. "You'd give a jellyfish a
backbone--you two."
And with a last squeeze of the hand I left him standing there, and set
off across the station for Edith Terrace.
It was close on midnight when I got back, and every one in the house
seemed to have gone to bed. The light had been put out in the hall,
but the door of my sitting-room was partly open, and a small jet of
gas was flickering away over the fireplace. I turned this up and,
looking round, discovered a large box with Holland's label on it,
a note, and a half-sheet of paper--all decorating the table in the
centre of the room.
I examined the half-sheet of paper first. It contained several dirty
thumb-marks and the following message, roughly scrawled in pencil:
"sir the lady with the hat cum for you about for aclock i told her as
you was out and she rote this leter gerty."
Hastily picking up the envelope, I slit open the flap, and pulled out
the "leter" from inside. It covered two sides, and was written in
Sonia's curious, sloping, foreign-looking hand.
"I have to go away with my father until the end of next week. By that
time, if you have succeeded with your invention, there will be nothing
to stop our plans. I would have explained everything to you today if
you had been here. As it is, _on no account give your secret to any
one_ until I have seen you. I shall come down to Tilbury either on
Friday or Saturday, and within a few hours we can be utterly beyond
the reach of any further danger or difficulties. Until then, my
lover--SONIA."
I read it through twice, and then slowly folding it up, thrust it back
into the envelope.
"It seems to me," I said, "that I'm going to have quite an interesting
house-party."