EXONERATED
It was Tommy who pronounced his epitaph. "Well," he observed, "he was
a damned scoundrel, but he played a big game anyhow."
Latimer thrust his hand into the dead man's pocket, and drew out a
small nickel-plated revolver. One chamber of it was discharged.
"Not a bad shot," he remarked critically. "Fired at me through his
coat, and only missed my head by an inch."
He got up and looked round the room at the shattered window and the
other traces of the fray, his gaze coming finally to rest on the
prostrate figure of Savaroff.
"That was a fine punch of yours, Lyndon," he added. "I hope you
haven't broken his neck."
"I don't think so," I said. "Necks like Savaroff's take a lot of
breaking." Then, suddenly remembering, I added hastily: "By the way,
you know that there are two more of the crowd--Hoffman and a friend of
von Brünig's? They might be back any minute."
Latimer shook his head almost pensively. "It's improbable," he said.
"I have every reason to believe that at the present moment they are in
Queenborough police station."
I saw Tommy grin, but before I could make any inquiries von Brünig
had scrambled to his feet. His face looked absolutely ghastly in its
mingled rage and disappointment. After a fashion I could scarcely help
feeling sorry for him.
"I demand an explanation," he exclaimed hoarsely. "By what right am I
arrested?"
Latimer walked up to him, and looked him quietly in the eyes.
"I think you understand very well, _Captain_ von Brünig," he said.
There was a pause, and then, with a glance that embraced the four of
us, the German walked to the couch and sat down. If looks could kill I
think we should all have dropped dead in our tracks.
Providence, however, having fortunately arranged otherwise, we
remained as we were, and at that moment there came from outside the
unmistakable sound of an approaching car. I saw Latimer open his
watch.
"Quick work, Ellis," he remarked, with some satisfaction. "I wasn't
expecting them for another ten minutes. Tell them to come straight
in." He snapped the case and turned back to me. "Suppose we try and
awake our sleeping friend," he added. "He looks rather a heavy weight
for lifting about."
Between us we managed to hoist Savaroff up into a chair, while Tommy
stepped across the room and fetched a bottle of water which was
standing on the sideboard. I have had some practice in my boxing days
of dealing with knocked-out men, and although Savaroff was a pretty
hard case, a little vigorous massage and one or two good sousings
soon produced signs of returning consciousness. Indeed, he had just
recovered sufficiently to indulge in a really remarkable oath when the
door swung open and Ellis came back into the room, accompanied by two
other men. One of them was dressed in ordinary clothes, the other wore
the uniform of a police sergeant.
I shall never forget the face of the latter as he surveyed the scene
before him.
"Gawd bless us!" he exclaimed. "What's up now, sir? Murder?"
"Not exactly, Sergeant," replied Latimer soothingly. "I shot this man
in self-defence. The other two I give into your charge. There is a
warrant out for all three of them."
It appeared that the sergeant knew who Latimer was, for he treated him
with marked deference.
"Very well, sir," he said. "If 'e's dead, 'e's dead; anyhow, I've
orders to take my instructions entirely from you." Then, dragging a
note-book out of his pocket, he added with some excitement: "There's
another thing, sir, a matter that the Tilbury station have just
telephoned through about. It seems"--he consulted his references--"it
seems that when they were in that launch of theirs they run down a
party o' coast-guards, who'd got hold of Lyndon, the missing convict.
Off Tilbury it was. D'you happen to know anything about this, sir?"
Latimer nodded his head. "A certain amount, Sergeant," he said. "You
will find the launch in the creek at the bottom of the cliff." He
paused. "This is Mr. Neil Lyndon," he added; "I will be responsible
for his safe keeping."
I don't know what sort of experiences the Isle of Sheppey usually
provides for its police staff, but it was obvious that, professionally
speaking, the sergeant was having the day of his life. He stared at me
for a moment with the utmost interest, and then, recollecting himself,
turned and saluted Latimer.
"Very good, sir," he said; "and what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to stay here for the present with one of my men, while we
go to the station. I shall send the car back, and then you will take
the two prisoners into Queenborough. My man will remain in charge of
the bungalow."
The sergeant saluted again, and Latimer turned to me.
"You and Morrison must come straight to town," he said. "We shall just
have time to catch the twelve-three."
It was at this point that Savaroff, who had been regarding us with
the half-stupid stare of a man who has newly recovered consciousness,
staggered up unsteadily from his chair. His half-numbed brain seemed
suddenly to have grasped what was happening.
"Verfluchter Schweinhund!" he shouted, turning on me. "So it was you,
then--"
He got no further. However embarrassed the sergeant might be by
exceptional events, he was evidently thoroughly at home in his own
department.
"'Ere!" he said, stepping forward briskly, "stow that, me man!"
And with a sudden energetic thrust in the chest, he sent Savaroff
sprawling backwards on the couch almost on top of von Brünig.
"Don't you use none of that language 'ere," he added, standing over
them, "or as like as not you'll be sorry for it."
There was a brief pause. "I see, Sergeant," said Latimer gravely,
"that I am leaving the case in excellent hands."
He gave a few final instructions to Ellis, who was also staying
behind, and then the four of us left the bungalow and walked quietly
down the small garden path that led to the road. Just outside the gate
stood a powerful five-seated car.
"Start her up, Guthrie," said Latimer; and then turning to us, he
added, with a smile: "I want you in front with me, Lyndon. I know
Morrison's dying for a yarn with you, but he must wait."
Tommy nodded contentedly. "I can wait," he observed; "it's a habit
I've cultivated where Neil's concerned."
We all clambered into the car, and, slipping in his clutch Latimer set
off at a rapid pace in the direction of Queenborough. It was not until
we had rounded the first corner that he opened the conversation.
"How did you know about Marks?" he asked, in that easy drawling voice
of his.
"I didn't know for certain," I said quietly. "It was more or less of a
lucky shot."
Then, as he seemed to be waiting for a further explanation, I repeated
to him as briefly as possible what Sonia had told me about McMurtrie's
reason for visiting London.
"I didn't go into all this in my letter to you," I finished, "because
in the first place there was only just time for Joyce to catch the
train, and in the second I didn't want to disappoint her in case it
should turn out to be all bunkum. You must have been rather amazed
when I suddenly sprung it on McMurtrie."
He shook his head, smiling. "Oh no," he said--"hardly amazed." He
paused. "You see, I knew about it already," he added placidly.
If there was any amazement to spare at that moment it was certainly
mine.
"You knew about it!" I repeated. "You knew that McMurtrie had killed
Marks?"
He nodded coolly. "You remember telling me in the boat that your
friend Miss--Miss Aylmer, isn't it?--had recognized him as the man she
saw at the flat on the day of the murder?"
"Yes," I said.
"Well, if that was so, and you had been wrongly convicted, which I
was inclined to believe, the doctor's presence on the scene seemed to
require a little looking into. I knew that at that time he had only
just arrived in London, so the odds were that he and Marks were old
acquaintances. I hunted up the evidence in your trial--I had rather
forgotten it--and I found just what I expected. Beyond the fact that
Marks was a foreigner and had been living in London for about eight
years, no one seemed to know anything about him at all. The police
were so confident in their case against you that apparently they
hadn't even bothered to make the usual inquiries. If they had taken
the trouble to communicate with St. Petersburg, they could have found
out all about Mr. Marks without much difficulty. The authorities there
have a wonderfully complete system of remembering their old friends."
"But three years afterwards--" I began.
"It makes very little difference, especially as just at present we
are on excellent terms with the Russian Secret Service. They took the
matter up for me, and last night I got the full particulars I wanted
about the man who had given away McMurtrie and his friends in St.
Petersburg. There can be no question that he and Marks were the same
person."
I took a long--a very long breath.
"There remains," I said, "the Home Office."
"I don't think you need be seriously worried about the Home Office,"
returned Latimer serenely. "By this time they have a full statement of
the case--except, of course, for my direct evidence that I heard the
doctor actually bragging of his achievement. I had a long interview
with Casement before I left London this morning, and he said he would
go round directly after breakfast. He evidently arrived just too late
to prevent the order for your arrest."
I nodded. "Sonia must have gone to the police last night," I said; and
then in a few words I told him of the telegram I had received from
Gertie 'Uggins, and how it had just enabled me to get away.
"I don't know," I finished, "how much my double escape complicates
matters. However unjust my sentence was, there's no denying I've
committed at least three felonies since. I've broken prison, plugged a
warder in the jaw, and shoved an oar into a policeman's tummy. Do you
think there's any possible chance of the Home Secretary being able to
overlook such enormities?"
Latimer laughed easily. "My dear Lyndon," he said, "in return for what
you've done for us, you could decimate the police force if you wanted
to." Then, speaking more seriously, he added: "I tell you frankly,
there's every chance of a huge European war in the near future, and
you can see the different position we should be in if the Germans had
got hold of this new powder of yours. Apart from that, the Government
owe you every possible sort of reparation for the shameful way you've
been treated. If there's any 'overlooking' to be done, it will be on
your side, not on theirs."
We were entering the dreary main street of Queenborough as he spoke,
and before I could answer he drew up outside the post-office.
"We've just time to send off a telegram," he said. "I want to make
sure of seeing Lammersfield and Casement directly we get to town. They
will probably be at lunch if I don't wire."
He entered the building, and Tommy took advantage of his brief absence
to lean over the back of the seat and grip my hand.
"We've done it, Neil," he said. "Damn it, we've done it!"
"_You've_ done it, Tommy," I retorted. "You and Joyce between you."
There was a short pause, and then Tommy gave vent to a deep satisfied
chuckle.
"I'm thinking of George," he said simply.
It was such a beautiful thought that for a moment I too maintained a
voluptuous silence.
"We must find out whether they're going to prosecute him," I said. "I
don't want to clash with the Government, but whatever happens I mean
to have my five minutes first. They're welcome to what's left of him."
Tommy nodded sympathetically, and just at that moment Latimer came out
of the post-office.
We got to the railway station with about half a minute to spare.
The train was fairly crowded, but a word from Latimer to the
station-master resulted in our being ushered into an empty "first"
which was ceremoniously locked behind us. It was not a "smoker," but
with a fine disregard for such trifles Latimer promptly produced his
cigar case, and offered us each a delightful-looking Upman. There are
certainly some advantages in being on the side of the established
order.
Soothed by the fragrant tobacco, and with an exquisite feeling of
rest and freedom, I lay back in the corner and listened to Latimer's
pleasantly drawling voice, as he described to me how he had
accomplished his morning's coup.
It seems that, accompanied by Tommy and his own man Ellis, he had
arrived at Queenborough by the early train. Instructions had already
been wired through from London that the Sheppey police were to put
themselves entirely at his disposal; and having commandeered a car,
the three of them, together with our friend the sergeant, set off to
the bungalow. They pulled up some little distance away and waited for
Guthrie, Latimer's other assistant, who had been keeping an eye on the
place during the night. He reported that McMurtrie and Savaroff and
von Brünig had just put off in the launch, leaving the other two
behind.
"I guessed they had gone to pay you a visit," explained Latimer drily,
"and it seemed to me a favourable chance of doing a little calling on
our own account."
The net result of that little call had been the bloodless capture
of Hoffman and the other German spy, who had been surprised in the
prosaic act of swallowing their breakfast.
Having been favoured by fortune so far, Latimer had promptly proceeded
to make the best use of his opportunity. It struck him that, whatever
might be the result of their visit to me, the other members of the
party were pretty sure to come back to the bungalow. The idea of
hiding behind the curtain at once suggested itself to him. It was just
possible that in this way he might pick up some valuable information
before he was discovered, while in any case it would give him the
advantage of taking them utterly by surprise.
His first step had been to tie up the prisoners, and pack them off in
the car to Queenborough police station with Guthrie and the sergeant
as an escort. (I should have loved to have heard his conversation with
Hoffman while the former operation was in progress!) He then carefully
removed all inside and outside traces of the raid on the bungalow, and
picked out a couple of convenient hiding-places in the garden, where
Tommy and Ellis could he in ambush until they were wanted. A shot from
his revolver or the smashing of the French window was to be the signal
for their united entrance on the scene.
"Well, you know the end of the story as well as I do," he finished,
nicking off the ash of his cigar. "Things could scarcely have turned
out better, except for that unfortunate accident with McMurtrie."
He paused. "I wouldn't have shot him for the world," he added
regretfully, "but he really left me no choice."
"He would have been hanged anyway," put in Tommy consolingly.
Latimer smiled. "I didn't mean to suggest that it was likely to keep
me awake at night. I was only thinking that we might perhaps have got
some useful information out of him."
"It seems to me," I said gratefully, "that we did."
Through the interminable suburbs and slums of South-East London we
steamed slowly into London Bridge Station and drew up at the platform.
There was a taxi waiting almost opposite our carriage, and promptly
securing the driver Latimer instructed him to take us "as quickly as
possible" to No. 10 Downing Street.
The man carried out his order with almost alarming literalness, but
Providence watched over us and we reached the Foreign Office without
disaster. Favoured with a respectful salute from the liveried porter
on duty, Latimer led the way into the hall.
We followed him down a short narrow passage to another corridor, where
he unlocked and opened a door on the left, ushering us into a small
room comfortably fitted up as an office.
"This is my own private den," he said; "so no one will disturb you. I
will go and see if Casement has come. If so, he is probably upstairs
with Lammersfield. I will give them my report, and then no doubt they
will want to see you. You won't have to wait very long."
He nodded pleasantly and left the room, closing the door after him.
For all his quiet, almost lethargic manner, it was curious what an
atmosphere of swiftness and decision he seemed to carry about with
him.
I turned to Tommy.
"Where's Joyce?" I asked.
"She's at the flat," he announced. "She said she would wait there
until she heard from us. I saw her last night, you know. I was having
supper at Hatchett's with Latimer when she turned up with your letter.
She'd come on from his rooms."
"There are many women," I said softly, "but there is only one Joyce."
Tommy chuckled. "That's what Latimer thinks. After she left us--I was
staying the night with him in Jermyn Street and we'd all three gone
back there to talk it over--he said to me in that funny drawling way
of his: 'You know, Morrison, that girl will be wasted, even on Lyndon.
She ought to be in the Secret Service.'"
I laughed. "I'm grateful to the Secret Service," I said, "but there
are limits even to gratitude."
For perhaps three-quarters of an hour we remained undisturbed, while
Latimer was presumably presenting his report to the authorities. Every
now and then we heard footsteps pass down the corridor, and on one
occasion an electric bell went off with a sudden vicious energy that
I should never have expected in a Government office. The time passed
quickly, for we had plenty to talk about; indeed, our only objection
to waiting was the fact that we were both beginning to get infernally
hungry, and it seemed likely to be some time yet before we should be
able to get anything to eat.
At last there came a discreet knock at the door, and an elderly
clean-shaven person with the manners of a retired butler appeared
noiselessly upon the threshold. He bowed slightly to us both.
"Lord Lammersfield wishes to see you, gentlemen. If you will be good
enough to follow me, I will conduct you to his presence."
We followed him along the corridor and up a rather dingy staircase,
when he tapped gently at a door immediately facing us. "Come in,"
called out a voice, and with another slight inclination of his head
our guide turned the handle and ushered us into the room.
It was a solemn-looking sort of apartment furnished chiefly with
bookcases, and having a general atmosphere of early Victorian
stuffiness. At a big table in the centre two men were sitting. One was
Latimer; the other I recognized immediately as Lord Lammersfield.
I had never known him personally in the old days, but I had often seen
him walking in the Park, or run across him at such popular rest
cures as Kempton and Sandown Park. He had changed very little in the
interval; his hair was perhaps a trifle greyer, otherwise he looked
just the same debonair picturesque figure that the Opposition
caricaturists had loved to flesh their pencils on.
He got up as we entered, regarding us both with a pleasant whimsical
smile that put me entirely at my ease at once.
"This is Lyndon," said Latimer, indicating me; "and this is Morrison."
Lord Lammersfield came round the table and shook hands cordially with
us both.
"Sit down, gentlemen," he said, "sit down. If half of what Mr. Latimer
has told me is true, you must be extremely tired."
We all three laughed, and Tommy promptly took advantage of the
invitation to seat himself luxuriously in a big leather arm-chair. I
remained standing.
"To be quite truthful," I said, "it's been the most refreshing morning
I can ever remember."
Lord Lammersfield looked at me for a moment with the same smile on his
lips.
"Yes," he said drily; "I suppose there is a certain stimulus in
saving England before breakfast. Most of my own work in that line is
accomplished in the afternoon." Then, with a sudden slight change in
his manner, he took a step forward and again held out his hand.
"Mr. Lyndon," he said, "as a member of the Government, and one who is
therefore more or less responsible for the law's asinine blunders, I
am absolutely ashamed to look you in the face. I wonder if you add
generosity to your other unusual gifts."
For the second time we exchanged grips. "I have common gratitude at
all events, Lord Lammersfield," I said. "I know that you have tried to
help me while I was in prison, and--"
He held up his other hand with a gesture of half-ironical protest.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "I am afraid that any poor efforts of mine in
that direction were due to the most flagrant compulsion." He paused.
"Whatever else you are unlucky in, Mr. Lyndon," he added smilingly,
"you can at least be congratulated on your friends."
Then he turned to Latimer. "I think it would be as well if I explained
the position before Casement and Frinton arrive."
Latimer expressed his agreement, and motioning me to a chair, Lord
Lammersfield again seated himself at the table. His manner, though
still quite friendly and unstilted, had suddenly become serious.
"For the moment, Mr. Lyndon," he said, "the Prime Minister is out of
London. We have communicated with him, and we expect him back tonight.
In his absence it falls to me to thank you most unreservedly both on
behalf of the Government and the nation for what you have done. It
would be difficult to overrate its importance."
I began to feel a trifle embarrassed.
"I really don't want any thanks," I said. "I just drifted into it;
and anyway one doesn't sell one's country, even if one is an escaped
convict."
Lord Lammersfield laughed drily. "There are many men," he said, "in
your position who would have found it an extraordinarily attractive
prospect. I am not at all sure I shouldn't have myself." He paused.
"We can't give you those three years of your life back," he went on,
"but fortunately we can make some sort of amends in other ways. I have
no doubt that the moment the Prime Minister is fully acquainted with
the circumstances he will arrange for what we humorously call a 'free
pardon'; that is to say, the Law will very graciously forgive you for
having been unjustly sent to prison. As for the rest--" he shrugged
his shoulders--"well, I don't imagine you will be precisely the loser
for not having sold your secret to the Wilhelmstrasse. Our own
War Office are quite prepared to deal in any original methods of
scattering death that happen to be on the market just at present."
There was a brief pause.
"And are we free now?" inquired Tommy, with a rather pathetic glance
at the clock.
"You should be very shortly," returned Lammersfield. "Mr. Casement has
gone across to the Home Office to explain the latest developments to
Sir George Frinton. We are expecting them both here at any moment."
"Sir George Frinton?" I echoed. "Why, I thought Mr. McCurdy was at the
Home Office."
Lammersfield smiled tolerantly: "You have been busy, Mr. Lyndon, and
some of the more important facts of modern history have possibly
escaped you. McCurdy resigned from the Government nearly three months
ago."
"But Sir George Frinton!" I exclaimed. "Why, I know the old boy; I
have a standing invitation to go and look him up." And then, without
waiting for any questions, I described to them in a few words how the
Home Secretary and I had travelled together from Exeter to London, and
the favourable impression I had apparently made.
Both Lammersfield and Latimer were vastly amused--the former lying
back in his chair and laughing softly to himself in undisguised
merriment.
"How perfectly delightful!" he observed. "Poor old Frinton has his
merits, but--"
The libel he was about to utter on his distinguished colleague was
suddenly cut short by a knock at the door; and, in answer to his
summons, the butler-looking person entered and announced that Sir
George Frinton and Mr. Casement were waiting for an audience.
"Show them up at once," said his lordship gravely; and then turning to
Latimer as the man left the room he added, with a reflective smile:
"I should never have believed that the Foreign Office could be so
entertaining."