KIRKWOOD'S WINDFALL
"So you've turned up again like three bad halfpennies," remarked the
Senior Officer of the base to which the "Hippodrome" was attached,
as the three airmen reported themselves. "Did you have much
difficulty in getting across the frontier?"
"Very little, sir," replied Fuller, who by virtue of his higher rank
acted as spokesman for the trio. "Nothing to brag about. Had a
little bother with a sentry guarding the electrically-charged wire
on the Dutch frontier; but, while he was preparing to tackle
Barcroft with the point of his bayonet, Kirkwood and I contrived to
deal with him very effectually. The Hun, you see, sir, had provided
himself with a combined hook and wire cutting arrangement with an
insulated handle, and it came in jolly useful. That's about all,
sir, and we are ready to rejoin our ship at the earliest
opportunity."
"I am afraid that's out of the question for a week or ten days,"
replied the Rear Admiral. "The 'Hippodrome' is away on special
service, and I won't run the risk of sending you away on a
destroyer, bearing in mind your previous trip for the same reason.
The best thing you can do is to go on leave. You look as if a rest
and a good feeding up will do you good. Should anything arise
requiring your recall you will be sent for by wire, so hold
yourselves in readiness for such a possibility."
The Senior Officer shook hands with the three subordinates and the
interview was at an end.
"S'long, you fellows," exclaimed Fuller, when they were once more
outside the Rear Admiral's office. "I'm catching the twelve-fifteen
to Town. See you later."
"What are your plans, old man?" asked Billy, addressing the A.P.
"My plans? I haven't any," replied Kirkwood, who, having lost his
parents early in life, had no home but that represented by His
Majesty's ships. "I could go to my uncle's place, but I'm not very
keen, and I fancy the sentiment is reciprocated by him, although I
am his heir. He's a lawyer, you know, and about as musty as
parchment."
"Then run up with me to Tarleigh," said Billy cordially.
The A. P, was not one of those fellows who affect a ridiculous
hesitation when given an invitation.
"Thanks, awfully, old man," he replied. "I'm on absolutely. Is there
time to look in at the Naval Club? I expect letters awaiting me."
"Right-o!" assented Billy. "By the powers, 'tis good to find oneself
in England after our little jaunt. Makes a fellow completely bucked,
especially after a jolly good bath, fresh clothes and all that. Ugh!
Those togs we took from that barge!"
"Coming in?" inquired Kirkwood, as the pair arrived at the entrance
of the Naval Club.
"No, not now," replied the flight-sub. "I'll go to the post office
and send a wire to let my people know we are on the way. I'll pick
you up at the station."
Barcroft had sent a telegram to his parents from the Hook of Holland
announcing his safety. He had also gone to the post office
immediately upon his arrival in England, but the place did not open
till nine. It was now nearly noon.
He had not gone more than a hundred yards when Kirkwood overtook
him, flushed with excitement.
"Here's a business!" he exclaimed. "Don't know whether to be sorry
or glad. I've just had a letter informing me that my uncle, Antonius
Grabb, has shuffled off this mortal coil. This is from his partner,
who, apparently, is executor to the will. He wants me to call at his
office as soon as possible. Billy, my festive, I'm afraid I'm a rich
man. The thought of it appals me. I've handled thousands of
Government cash in my time, but never had as much as a hundred to my
credit before."
"Congrats, you lucky bounder!" said Billy heartily.
"And so I have to run up to Town," continued the A.P., "there to
face an interview of momentous import. Frankly I funk it. How about
it? Will you come with me? We can put up at the Whatsname Hotel--you
know where I mean--and take the first train in the morning to
Tarleigh."
"All right," assented Barcroft, after a brief consideration of the
proposal. "We'll have to look sharp if we're to catch that
twelve-fifteen. Here's luck--a taxi."
"Well, that is playing a low-down game," remarked Fuller as they
rejoined him on the platform. "You two unsociables, declining my
invitation to run up to Town, have evidently hatched a plot to have
a stunt on your own account. But I've spotted your little game, you
sly dogs. Now own up--what's the move?"
"We did change our minds," confessed the A.P. "Force of
circumstances, you know. Fuller, I'm a millionaire of sorts--in
pence, I fancy. At any rate, my uncle Antonius has died, and we're
off to see his executor. Come to his office with us? The more the
merrier, you know, and I'll stand dinner at the Carlton, if it
hasn't been 'taken over.'"
Arriving at Ely Place the three officers were ushered into the
presence of Mr. Fasly Gott, junior partner of the firm of Grabb and
Gott.
The lawyer regarded his callers with well concealed interest.
"Mr. Robert Kirkwood, I presume," he exclaimed addressing Fuller.
"Almost wish I were," muttered the lieutenant to himself as he
indicated the rightful bearer of the name.
"Ah, yes, of course," murmured Mr. Gott, re-adjusting his pince-nez.
"I can see a strong resemblance to your late relative, my esteemed
partner."
"That's not a compliment," thought the A.P. "In fact, it is a
downright perversion." The lawyer cleared his throat. Obviously he
did not like the presence of three officers in naval uniform. His
reason was soon apparent.
"Your uncle's will," he continued, "is, to say the least, somewhat
out of the ordinary. First let me impress upon you that its contents
were absolutely unknown to me, his executor, until after his
decease. He leaves the whole of his real and personal estate,
representing a sum of at least seventy thousand pounds, to his
nephew, Robert Angus Kirkwood----"
"Lucky dog!" interposed the irrepressible Fuller.
Mr. Gott gave a deprecatory cough. Levity was a rare emotion in that
gloomy office, the motto of which in the vast majority of cases
ought to be--'Abandon Hope, all ye who Enter Here.'
"Subject to one condition," he continued. "My late partner, as you
might know, was a man of pacific temperament. Here I must hasten to
explain that the will is dated 1913, that is, a twelvemonth previous
to the outbreak of this deplorable war, and there is no codicil. The
condition is as follows:--That the said Robert Angus Kirkwood
resigns his commission in his Majesty's Navy, otherwise the bulk of
the estate goes to the Society for the Encouragement of the
Discovery of Antediluvian Remains."
"In that case," rejoined Kirkwood calmly, "I think you had better
communicate with the secretary of the Society for the Encouragement
of the Discovery of Antediluvian Remains and inform him that my
uncle's legacy is at his disposal. I am rather surprised that you
should have written asking me to call. The proposition is an insult
to His Majesty's Service."
"You show the proper spirit, Mr. Kirkwood," said the lawyer, with
genuine admiration for the young officer's _esprit de corps_. "It is
a peculiar will, and, if you desire to dispute its terms, you may be
successful at the Courts; I should be happy to undertake the case.
However, there is one clause. The bulk of the estate goes to this
eccentric Society. The residue, consisting of deeds of real estates
to the value of seven thousand pounds, goes to you unconditionally."
The interview lasted about twenty minutes, at the end of which the
three officers prepared to leave.
"By the bye," remarked the A.P., "I suppose you can let me have a
copy of the list of securities?"
"Yes, a copy," replied Mr. Gott. "The deeds will be handed over when
probate of the Will has been declared. You will understand that the
duties will be considerable?"
"Lucky to have to pay 'em," commented Kirkwood. "Thank you, Mr.
Gott. Good afternoon."
It was not until the following morning when Barcroft and the A.P.
were speeding north by the 5.15 express on their way to Tarleigh
that the flight-sub mentioned a matter that was on his mind--a
delicate request the reason for which Billy could not very well
explain.
"By the bye, old man," he began "what do you propose doing with
those deeds when they are handed over to you?"
"Hanged if I know," replied Kirkwood. "Haven't troubled much about
them. Simply carry on and make good use of the interest, I suppose.
Seems a fairly safe investment, but personally I'd rather sell out
and shove the money into the War Loan."
"Are you willing to hand one of the deeds over to me?" asked Billy.
The A.P. looked at his companion in surprise. "Certainly," he
replied. "Didn't know--hang it!--I'd no idea you were in need----"
"No, not that," interposed Barcroft. "A cash transaction, most
decidedly. There's one--originally belonging to a Mrs.
Deringhame--I'm rather keen on having. Can't very well explain why,
unless you insist upon an explanation, only I thought----"
"Don't worry, old bird," said Kirkwood. "It's yours on your terms. I
see by the list that old rascal Gott gave me that this particular
document is included. That's settled, then."
"Thanks awfully," said Billy gratefully. "Some day I'll be able to
tell you why I wanted it. When do you think the business in
connection with your late uncle's will will be settled?"
"About a week, I should say," replied the A.P. "At any rate, if it
isn't I think I can reasonably apply for an extension of leave."
It was after nine when the two officers arrived at Barborough. Here
they found that the next train on to Tarleigh would not leave for
another hour and a half.
"There's no particular hurry," remarked Billy. "But, all the same, I
don't see why we should cool our heels in this draughty show. I vote
we walk."
He could not help wondering why his father had not been waiting for
him on the platform. Perhaps he was even now on his way with the
car--that wretched magneto ought to be repaired by this time.
"I'm on," assented the A.P. "How about our gear? We can't lug it
those five or six miles."
"Hanged if I haven't overlooked that problem," said Barcroft. "Let's
take a taxi."
The taxi deposited the two chums at the door of Ladybird Fold at
precisely the same moment that a telegraph boy was delivering a
couple of telegrams.
"You did look awfully surprised to see us, mother," remarked Billy
after the preliminary exchange of greetings. "This is my great pal,
Kirkwood--Billy Kirkwood. You've heard me mention him many a time."
"Of course we are delighted to see you, Mr. Kirkwood," said Mrs.
Barcroft. "It is, as Billy says, a surprise."
"But didn't you get my wire?" asked the flight-sub.
"I suppose it is one of these," remarked his mother, opening one of
the envelopes.
She read the contents, a puzzled expression on her face. Then,
without a word she handed it to her son.
"Silly asses!" exclaimed Billy, for the wire was from the Admiralty
expressing regret that Flight-sub-lieutenant William Barcroft was
reported missing. "However, it doesn't much matter now. Would have
been awkward if we weren't here to show that it's a mistake. Look
here--handed in three days ago. Delayed in transmission. Didn't you
get my wire from Holland?"
Mrs. Barcroft shook her head.
"I gave that rascally hotel porter a couple of gulder to take the
telegraph form to the post-office," declared the flight-sub. "Ten to
one he stuck to the tip and the money for the wire as well. Where's
the governor?"
"He went out early this morning with Mr. Norton," replied Mrs.
Barcroft.
"The fellow who got adrift on the night of the Zep, raid? He turned
up all right after all, then. Where have they gone?"
"Towards Windyhill. They went rabbit-shooting."
"Windyhill? Where's that, mater?" asked Billy. "We may as well
stroll over that way, Bobby. No, thanks, mater, we don't require any
lunch at present. Had second breakfast on the train. You can hang
out till one o'clock, my festive?"
"Rather," declared the A.P. "Let's go and meet Mr. Barcroft and help
carry back the spoils."
Receiving directions from Mrs. Barcroft the two chums set off on
their quest. Half way down the lane leading to the Dingle Dell they
suddenly encountered Philip Entwistle.
"Mornin'," said Billy with a laugh. "How are you? Recovered from
that donkey-trip of ours yet?"
"Quite--absolutely," replied Entwistle. "So you are on leave again?
I'm glad--very glad. There's a little matter upon which I should
like to speak."
He paused and glanced inquiringly at Billy's, companion. The A.P.
discreetly began to walk on.
"I say, Kirkwood," called out the flight-sub. "Let me introduce
you."
"So you are the man who was flying with our friend here when the
German airman who bombed Alderdene was strafed," said Entwistle,
after the introduction was made.
"I believe I had a hand in it," admitted Kirkwood.
"That was when the document setting a price on your father's head
was discovered, Barcroft," continued the vet.
"I say--how did you know that?" asked Billy. "Funny how things like
that leak out."
"It's part of my business," replied Entwistle gravely. "That is the
matter on which I wish to speak to you, and since Mr. Kirkwood is
'in the know' up to a certain point I do not see any reason why he
should not be admitted into our conference. First of all, let me say
that for the present I must get you to promise not to say a word to
your father, or in fact to any one concerning what I am about to
divulge." The two officers gave the required promise.
"It concerns Andrew Norton," continued Entwistle. "He is a secret
agent of the German Government. On the night of the Barborough raid
he had planned to have your parent made prisoner by the crew of the
Zeppelin. Unfortunately for him his plans went adrift, and, as a
result, he himself was kidnapped and taken to Germany."
"How on earth do you know this?" asked Billy incredulously.
"From definite and unimpeachable information," replied Entwistle.
"I am--this is of course strictly confidential--also a Secret
Service man, belonging to an opposition show. In due course--we have
been giving him a good amount of rope--friend Norton will be
arrested."
"But why cannot the governor be informed?" was Billy's next
question.
Philip Entwistle smiled.
"Your father is--well, too imaginative, and, perhaps, a little too
impulsive. I don't think he would believe me at first, if I were to
broach the subject. He would, I feel inclined to think, even start
bantering friend Norton."
"Yes, perhaps he might," admitted young Barcroft.
"And so I am just off to the house to see your father," continued
Entwistle. "There are one or two questions I want to ask him,
indirectly put but directly bearing upon the Norton case."
"'Fraid you won't find him there," remarked Billy. "He's gone
rabbit-shooting with the man under discussion."
"With Andrew Norton?" asked Entwistle anxiously, then--gripping the
flight-sub's arm--"Where, man, where? We must find him at once."
The three set out at a rapid pace through the Dingle Dell. The
Secret Service man's hand went to his hip pocket, his fingers coming
in contact with the butt of a small but powerful automatic pistol.
For more than two years the weapon had been Entwistle's constant
companion, yet no one, not even his personal friends, were aware of
the fact.
"Thought Barcroft would speed things up a bit," he soliloquised.
"Going rabbitting with that beauty has done it. Wonder if we are too
late?"
Somewhat breathless in spite of their fine physical condition the
trio arrived at the foot of Windyhill. As they crossed the stile two
shots rang out in quick succession.
"They're up there," announced Billy, pointing to the second field.
"I saw some one moving to the right of that clump of bushes."
Over the stone wall the men scrambled. As they did so a single
report, more of a crash than the sharp, short detonation of a charge
of smokeless powder, came from behind the gorse, followed by a
scream of agony that trailed off into a long-drawn groan.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Billy, spurting ahead of his companions.
Rounding the patch of cover he came upon the scene of the tragedy.
Lying at full length upon the grass was a man; over him, with his
back turned towards the new arrivals, was another--Peter Barcroft.