THE NEXT MOVE IN THE GAME
Before Gerald could answer the very unpleasant question, there came a
sound which caused both men's hearts to cease beating for a moment, the
one with hope, the other with fear.
For it was a loud hammering on the front door, and an authoritative
voice crying:
"Open instantly, or we break in."
Looking at the door, the lawyer saw through the ground glass a round
disk of light, such as a bull's-eye lantern throws, and then silhouetted
a helmet--a policeman's helmet.
Loide stood in the passageway with a blanched face--irresolute--for a
moment. There was not time to be so longer.
Then he rushed to the back door, and disappeared down the steps into the
darkness.
His movements were quickened by the sound of breaking glass. A truncheon
had shattered one of the panels in the door, and a coat sleeve, with a
striped band round it, was thrust through the hole in the glass.
There was a hand in the sleeve, a hand feeling around for the catch, a
policeman's hand.
The hand caught the catch, and presently the door opened.
Three men in uniform stood on the steps, a sergeant and two constables.
They paused a moment listening, and then entered.
"Be careful," said the sergeant. "Throw your light ahead of you. Hullo!
What's this?"
He was referring to the open trap which yawned at his feet.
He cast the light of his lantern down the hole, and a voice came up,
saying:
"The police! Thank God!"
"Wasn't a hoax then, after all," said the sergeant grimly. "Are you all
right?"
"Yes," came the voice; "all right now you have arrived. Had you been
five minutes later you would have had a dead man to carry out."
"Who's the would-be murderer?"
"Escaped the back way as you entered the front. I heard him run down the
steps."
"Jim, Jack, quick; scour the back, and see what you can find."
The men found nothing. They returned.
"He knew the lay of the land better than we did," said the sergeant;
and then stooping over the opening in the floor, he continued, "How are
we going to get you out of this?"
"That's the question which was put to me five minutes ago, only it was
proposed to bring me out dead, not alive."
"Shall I try and borrow a ladder, sergeant?" inquired one of the men.
"Or a pair of steps would do."
"Where the devil are you going to borrow such a thing at midnight? Slip
off your belts. Here's mine; buckle them together. That's it."
He leaned over the hole, and lowered the length of leather.
"Just wrap the end round one wrist," he called out to the man below,
"and hold on with the other hand. Got it? Now, Jim, Jack, grip this.
Stand on the corner there and pull all together."
The long, strong pull of the three men brought Gerald's head above the
hole.
"Catch hold of the side with your free hand," called out the sergeant;
"that will relieve the weight. That's it. Stoop down, Jack, and catch
his arms. There."
In another moment Gerald formed one of the four panting men in the
passage.
"And now," inquired the sergeant, "what's the meaning of this little
game? How did you come to get down there?"
"First tell me," inquired Gerald, "how you came to arrive in the very
nick of time?"
"Well, your note--ingenious idea that--round the cat's neck, was noticed
by the cat's owner. At first she thought it was a hoax, but ultimately
she put on a bonnet and shawl, and came with it to the police station."
"Good woman!"
"It seemed a funny sort of story to find tied to a cat, and at first we
shared in the belief that it was a hoax. We probably should have treated
it so--for you don't find this kind of thing happening except in books,
you know--but one of our men who was standing in the office had reported
that two vans had cleared the furniture away from The Elms during the
evening.
"I think that decided us. If it had not been for the fact that it was an
empty house--empty houses form the backgrounds of a lot of crimes, you
know--I don't think we should have taken notice of it."
"That would have been pleasant."
"You can't conceive how the police are hoaxed, or you wouldn't wonder.
We seem to be fair game for the practical joker. But now, tell us, how
did you get down that hole?"
"It's a long story," said Gerald, who for obvious reasons could not tell
the true one. "I was lured here presumably by a madman, walked into that
trap, and when you were knocking at the door, the fellow was standing
over me with a pistol. He had dug a grave in the back garden--you can
see it for yourself--and was intending to bury me in it."
"Who was it?"
"The man who lived here--Mr. Loide, the lawyer. I was his clerk. He sent
for me to come here to-night, and I came down by train. When I got
here--well, the man was mad; there can be no doubt of it."
"Just give me his description," said the sergeant; "we don't want madmen
rambling about a quiet little place like Wimbledon. The sooner we spot
the old gentleman the better. He seems to be shaping himself for a
strait jacket."
"A quiet five minutes with him," replied Gerald viciously, as he
clenched his fist, "would, I think, result in his being one of the
sanest men in the country. I shouldn't forget in the interview that he
tried to murder me."
"You don't want to take the law into your own hands. That's what we are
around for. Now, give me his description."
Gerald gave it. Then the sergeant said:
"Your own name and address."
Gerald gave them.
While the sergeant had been eliciting these particulars, and writing an
account of the affair, his men had searched the house from top to
bottom, and reported absolute emptiness.
"Now I think we have done here. Better let us take the key," said the
sergeant; "we'll go over the place again to-morrow. If he's as mad as
you say he is, he's likely to come back. We may be able to clap hands on
him if we keep watch."
The street door was locked, and the four men made their way to the high
road.
"I would give something for a drink of brandy," said Gerald.
"I fear you are not in such dire distress as to warrant my knocking up a
licensed victualer," replied the sergeant. "How would a cup of hot cocoa
fit you? There's a stall at the corner."
Gerald sampled it, and found it grateful and comforting.
"Now, about sleeping. Will you come on to the station? We can give you a
pitch there on a rug till the morning."
Gerald thanked them and walked to the police station. The next morning
he was up betimes, and caught an early train back to London.
His astonished landlady let him in, and opined with a shaking head that
there was only one end for young men who stopped out all night.
Gerald did not want to hear what the termination was, but made his way
up-stairs.
In his own room he lay on his bed and slept. He had not found the bench
at the police station of a soporific kind.
After the excitement of the preceding evening, he needed sleep, and he
took his fill of it.
He did not awake till eleven o'clock; then he had breakfast, and mapped
out his plans for the day.
He rehearsed his coming interview with the dentist--he did not suppose
it would matter being an hour or so late--what he should say, what he
should do, and then went out.
His landlady sarcastically inquired as he passed whether he thought he
should sleep at home that night, and he answered by banging the door.
He made his way to Finsbury Circus, and entered the building in which
the dentist had rooms. Sawyer opened the door.
"Is Mr. Lennox in?"
"Yessir; will you come inside? What name shall I say, sir?"
"Brown--John Brown."
Then Gerald sat down and waited while the boy took his name in to his
employer.
"Am I going to draw a prize or a blank," he muttered. "Am I coming out
of this interview with the notes in sight, or failure?"
His interview with the dentist told him.