Albert Terrace appeared even more peaceful and respectable than usual
as Colin turned in at the farther end and came to a standstill in
front of Mr. Medwin's house.
"This is the place, Joe," he said quietly. "Now you're quite clear
in your own mind about what we've arranged?"
Joe nodded. "I got it, guv'nor. You ask whether 'e's at 'ome, an'
if 'e is, in we goes. Then it'll be my job to shove it across the
butler."
"That's right," said Colin. "I'm trusting you to look after the two
servants until I've finished with Medwin."
"I'll look after 'em," grunted Joe. "There won't be no trouble in
that quarter, you taike my word for it."
They got out of the car, and, leading the way up the path, Colin
pressed the electric bell.
After a brief delay they heard the sound of steps inside, and the
next moment Medwin himself opened the door. For an instant he stood
gazing dumbly at his two visitors, then with a sudden expansive smile
he stepped forward and held out his hand.
"Why, bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "This is a very pleasant
surprise. What an extraordinary bit of luck that I happened to be at
home."
"Isn't it!" said Colin genially. "I was just saying to Joe that it
was a hundred to one that we shouldn't find you." He paused. "Oh,
by the way, may I introduce you? This is an old friend of mine, Mr.
Joe Bates. I've brought him along because we both want to ask your
advice."
With a deferential gesture, Joe raised his finger to his forehead.
"'Ow d'ye do, sir," he remarked. "Pleased to meet yer."
"I hope we haven't called at a very inconvenient time," continued
Colin. "The matter is rather an urgent one, and I felt that I should
like to have your opinion on it."
"You needn't apologize, my dear boy," returned Mr. Medwin graciously.
"If I can be of any assistance to you I shall be only too pleased."
He moved back, making room for them to enter. "I have to be my own
butler to-day, because both my man and his wife are out for the
afternoon. I send them to a matinée every now and then, just to keep
them in a good temper."
Colin and Joe stepped into the hall, the latter, who was the last to
enter, closing the door carefully behind him.
"I think the study will be the best place for us," continued their
host. "Perhaps you'd like a whisky and soda or a glass of port
first, though?"
Colin declined politely, and, still radiating good nature, Mr. Medwin
ushered them into a small room on the left, where a bright fire was
burning in the grate.
"I use this as a kind of annex to my office," he added. "A large
number of my clients are Kensington people, and so sometimes it's
very convenient to be able to see them here."
"It's very convenient for us," said Colin. "As a matter of fact, we
were particularly anxious to find you alone."
The other, who was in the act of pulling forward a chair, glanced up
sharply at the change in his visitor's voice.
Colin took a step forward.
"I've got several things to say to you, Medwin, but before I start,
just get this fact plainly into your head. If you attempt to call
out or to make the least noise, I'll smash your face to a jelly."
There was a moment of dead silence, then very slowly Medwin stepped
back to the fireplace and moistened his lips.
"Have you gone mad?" he demanded.
"Sit down," said Colin curtly.
He pointed to the chair, and with a face from which every vestige of
colour had suddenly departed, the lawyer silently obeyed his
instructions. Joe moved softly toward him across the room, a
formidable and menacing figure in the gray afternoon light.
It was Colin who was the first to speak.
"What have you and Fenton done with Miss Seymour?"
Medwin, who by an amazing effort seemed to have recovered some of his
self-possession, looked up with an expression of blank amazement.
"I have never heard of Miss Seymour," he answered. "In fact, I
haven't the remotest notion what you're talking about."
Colin came a step nearer. "Haven't you?" he said. "Then perhaps I'd
better explain."
He thrust his hand under Medwin's chin, and, jerking up his face,
stared down into his eyes.
"Now, you damned liar," he said, "listen to me. You know as well as
I do who Miss Seymour is. You have known it ever since you broke
into the Red Lodge and opened the Professor's desk."
He released his hold and, gripping Medwin by the collar, shook him
backward and forward as a dog shakes a rat.
"My God, I'd kill you where you sit if I didn't want an answer to my
question. You've not only tried to rob and ruin this girl, but if it
wasn't for you and Fenton the Professor would be still alive."
He flung back the half-throttled man with such force that the
woodwork of the chair cracked and splintered beneath his weight.
Joe, who had been looking on with silent approval hauled the victim
unceremoniously to his feet.
"Nah, cocky," he said, "where's the young laidy? Spit it aht quick."
Choking and gasping for breath, Medwin retreated toward the sofa.
"You're making some terrible mistake. I know nothing about it, on my
honour."
"Your _what_?" Colin laughed unpleasantly. "I don't know if you're
really under the impression that you can bluff this out, Medwin, but
if you are, you're making the mistake of your life."
He put his hand in his pocket, and, pulling out a coil of whipcord,
which he had stopped to purchase on his way down, tossed it across to
Joe.
"Lay him on the sofa," he said, "and tie up his feet and hands. If
he makes the slightest sound, give him a punch in the mouth."
Joe moved forward with alacrity, and, turning to the fireplace, Colin
picked up a small ornamental poker which was standing against the
hearth, and thrust it deliberately into the hottest part of the fire.
Then, lighting himself a cigarette, he stood looking on in silence,
while with swift efficiency Joe proceeded to carry out his
instructions.
"That will do," he observed at last, "Now, Medwin, you can take your
choice. You will either tell me at once where Miss Seymour is, or
else I shall burn the truth out of you with that poker."
Trussed and helpless, Medwin gazed across at him from the sofa.
"For God's sake think what you're doing," he whispered. "Can't you
see that the whole thing's a ghastly blunder? I swear to you on my
oath that I have never even heard of either of the people you have
mentioned."
"In that case," said Colin, "it's rather curious that you keep a
photograph of Fenton on your dining room mantelpiece."
He stooped down, and, drawing out the poker which was now a glowing
red, advanced relentlessly toward the sofa.
Two little beads of perspiration broke out on Medwin's forehead and
trickled down into his eyes.
"Stop!" he gasped. "Stop! You young devil, I believe you mean it."
Colin laughed again. "Shove something in his mouth, Joe. We don't
want the whole street to hear him squealing."
By a violent effort Medwin managed to wriggle himself up into a
sitting position.
"It's all right, Gray," he said quietly. "You needn't go any
further. I know when I'm beaten."
He sank back against the cushions, and with a queer half-incredulous
expression, stared up into Colin's face.
"I am not often mistaken in my judgment of people," he said, "but I
seem to have blundered pretty badly with regard to you."
"Answer my questions," said Colin. "Where's Miss Seymour?"
"She's at Fenton's cottage in Essex, close to South Ockendon. It's a
small white house called 'The Firs,' on the right hand of the road,
just before you reach the village."
Colin walked to the desk and wrote down his directions on a blank
sheet of paper.
"Why have you taken her there?"
"It was Fenton's idea," said Medwin slowly. "He has a boat lying in
the Thames close by, and he thought that if he could persuade her to
go for a short cruise she might change her opinion about the
impossibility of marrying him."
With his fists clenched Joe started forward, but before he could
strike Colin thrust him back.
"Leave him alone, Joe," he said harshly. "It's the truth we want, no
matter what it is." He turned to Medwin, who was watching them with
surprising coolness. "Do you know what his plans are exactly?"
"He means to take her on board as soon as it's dark. Where he will
go then depends chiefly on the weather. I believe he has some idea
of trying to reach Holland."
"What, by himself, in mid-winter?"
"Oh, he's not alone," returned Medwin. "He has two old acquaintances
of yours with him--Cooper and Hudson. In the course of their varied
lives they have both served before the mast."
For a moment Colin remained silent, his eyes fixed steadily upon the
lawyer's face.
"I don't know whether you're telling me the truth, Medwin," he said.
"If you're not, heaven help you. I'll find you again, no matter
where you try to hide, and I'll tear your lying tongue out of your
throat with my own fingers."
Medwin nodded. "Yes," he said, "I can quite believe you would, but,
fortunately, such an unpleasant proceeding won't be necessary. As I
told you before, I know when the game's up."
Colin replaced the poker in the grate, then, crossing to the desk, on
which stood a portable telephone, he unhooked the receiver and asked
for Marsden's number. The lawyer watched him curiously.
"Hullo!" came the Inspector's voice.
"This is Gray. I'm speaking from Albert Terrace. I've got the
information I wanted."
"You mean you know where the girl is?"
"Yes. She's at a cottage in Essex, close to South Ockendon. Fenton
means to take her on board his boat as soon as it's dark."
"Who told you this?"
"Medwin. I had to use a certain amount of persuasion, but I think
it's true."
"What have you done to him?"
"He's all right. He's lying on the sofa listening to what I'm
saying. We've tied him up, and we propose to leave him here."
"How about the servants?"
"Both out at the theatre. They're not likely to be back until
half-past five."
"Sounds as if you'd made a pretty tidy job of it," was Marsden's
comment. "You'd better come back here as quickly as possible and
pick me up in the car. If what he's told you is right, the sooner we
have a look at this cottage the better."
"We're starting now," replied Colin. "We'll be with you in a quarter
of an hour."
He rang off, and, picking up his hat from the chair, turned to Medwin.
"This is your last chance," he said. "You know what to expect if
you've sent me on a false errand."
"You can make your mind quite easy," returned the other. "You'll
find Miss Seymour at the cottage, and I have no doubt she will be
delighted to see you. You're exactly the sort of primitive young
savage that appeals to women."
Joe stepped forward pleadingly. "Let me give 'im one, doctor--only
just one. That'll learn 'im to call you names."
"No," said Colin. "Leave him alone. He'll have all he deserves by
the time we've finished with him."
He walked toward the door, and, with one reluctant glance at the
smiling and half-prostrate figure on the sofa, Joe followed him out
into the hall.
* * * * * * * * *
Two men muffled up in long coats, who were waiting just inside the
entrance, stepped forward at once as the car came to a standstill
again at the main gate-way of the Yard.
From, under the peaked cap of the former the sharp eyes of Inspector
Marsden travelled swiftly and approvingly over its two occupants.
"Well, you don't waste much time, doctor," he observed. "I will say
that for you."
"I'd have been here a lot sooner if it hadn't been for the usual
cursed jam in Piccadilly," returned Colin viciously.
As he spoke he leaned over and swung open the back door of the car.
"Just a minute," said the Inspector quietly. "Before we start I'd
like to hear a few more details about this interview of yours with
Medwin. We don't want to go chasing down into Essex unless----"
"I'll give you the facts," interrupted Colin. "If you don't think
they're good enough to act on you can leave it to Joe and me."
In a few blunt words he described the scene which had taken place in
the study, the two detectives standing silently beside the car, and
Joe nodding his head at intervals as though to confirm the truth of
the story.
"I can't swear that he hasn't invented the whole thing," finished
Colin, "but, all the same, I'm pretty certain there's something in
it. Whatever else Medwin may be, he isn't a fool. He knows
perfectly well I meant what I said, and in my opinion he's had the
sense to chuck up the sponge in order to save his own skin."
"The guv'nor's right, mister," broke in Joe earnestly. "'E's a lyin'
swine, this bloke, but 'e didn't fancy the idea of 'avin' 'is tongue
torn out, you could see that by 'is faice."
Marsden laughed grimly. "I daresay you could!" He turned to Colin.
"I'm shocked and surprised that you should have taken the law into
your own hands in this way, but, between ourselves, I believe you've
done the trick." He jerked his head toward the back of the car.
"Jump in, sergeant. We can make use of the doctor's information even
if we don't approve of his methods."
As he spoke he seated himself alongside of Colin, while the sergeant,
a heavily built individual with a chin like the toe of a boot,
clambered up obediently into the tonneau. Directly he was on board
Colin thrust in his clutch, and the next moment they were spinning up
the broad roadway in the direction of Waterloo Bridge.
"I suppose I made it plain that this isn't going to be any sort of a
picnic," said Colin, with a side glance at his companion. "According
to Medwin, we've got Cooper and Hudson to tackle as well as Fenton,
and I should think it's a hundred to one that they'll all three be
armed."
"Cooper will for a certainty," replied the Inspector, "and what's
more, he won't hesitate to shoot. However, I took the precaution of
slipping a Smith and Webley into my pocket, and I told Bentley to do
the same. If Mister Cooper prefers a bullet to a rope, he can damned
well take his choice."
"I only hope Medwin doesn't get away," said Colin, with some feeling.
"He's tied up all right at present, but his servants will be back
before we're through with this job, and directly they've set him
loose he'll probably try to do a bolt."
"He may try," returned the Inspector, "but he won't get very far.
I've sent down two of our best men to watch the house, and, no matter
where he goes, they'll stick to him like his shadow."
He paused for a moment as Colin swerved round a cluster of startled
pedestrians, and then added with a dry smile: "We don't want to waste
any time, doctor, but you might just keep it in mind that I'm a
married man, with three children dependent on me."
"I won't smash you up," replied Colin. "I may seem to be driving
fast, but I've got too much at stake to play the fool."
He cut across the broad space at the corner of Farringdon Street,
and, leaving the river on his right hand, plunged into one of the
long warehouse-lined streets which lead through the heart of the
city. The short day was already closing in, and the tall buildings
on either side were a blaze of electric light.
"I don't know if you're in any doubt about the way," said the
Inspector. "You had better consult Bentley if you are. He's an
Essex man himself, and knows every inch of the country."
"I think I can find it," was Colin's answer. He slowed down a little
and glanced back over his shoulder. "We go through Barking and
Rainham, don't we?"
The sergeant, who was sitting up stiffly alongside of Joe, nodded his
head.
"That's right, sir. It's practically a straight road from there to
South Ockendon."
They drove on silently through the crowded streets, the Inspector
making no further attempt to talk, and Colin devoting his whole
attention to the strenuous work of avoiding the traffic.
After negotiating the apparently interminable length of the
Commercial Road and the East India Dock Road, they made their way
through the squalid region of East Ham and emerged at last into the
historic if evil-smelling neighbourhood of Barking.
Then, bit by bit, the houses began to give place to stunted hedges
and low-lying fields, while a little distance away on the right the
red and green lights of the steamers passing up and down the Thames
flashed out mysteriously in the gathering dusk.
Two miles of rapid driving brought them to the straggling village of
Rainham, and, checking his speed a trifle as they ran through the
main street, Colin swung out on to a lone stretch of country road,
where except for one or two farm carts and an occasional belated
cyclist, they seemed to be the only travellers.
He had covered about another three miles when, with a sudden
movement, the sergeant leaned over from the back.
"We're getting pretty near now, sir," he observed. "If your
information's right, the house we want ought to be somewhere about
here."
Colin slackened down, and as he did so the bent figure of an old man,
with a pitchfork over his shoulder, suddenly loomed into view out of
an adjoining gateway.
"Here's someone who'll probably be able to help us," said Marsden.
"Just pull up a moment, and we'll ask him."
They came to a standstill alongside the stranger, who blinked at them
suspiciously from under his shaggy eyebrows.
Marsden leaned over and addressed him with a friendly nod.
"Good evening, uncle," he said. "I wonder if you can tell us whether
there's a house called 'The Firs' anywhere around this neighbourhood."
With considerable deliberation the veteran unshipped his pitchfork.
"Whoy, yees, mister," he replied. "There be a 'ouse o' that name
sure enough. There aren't no one there though, not as I knows on."
"That doesn't matter," said the Inspector. "We only want to have a
look at the outside of it."
"You don't 'ave to go far for that," was the encouraging reply.
"You'll find it on the right-'and side of the road soon as you've
passed the nex' turnin'."
"I suppose you don't happen to know who owns the place?" inquired
Marsden.
"Well, I 'ave 'eard that it's a rich gen'leman in London. Party o'
the name o' Fenton. 'E don't use it much though, an' that's a fact;
only comes down 'ere for an odd day or two now an' then."
"Just when he wants a breath of fresh air, eh?" suggested Marsden
genially. "Well, I'm much obliged to you, uncle. Perhaps you'll get
yourself a drink when the pubs open."
He produced a shilling, which the old man readily accepted, and, with
a slight pressure of his foot on the clutch, Colin again set the car
in motion.
"Don't hurry," whispered Marsden. "Drive us slowly past the place
and then stop. If any one's inside there's pretty sure to be a light
in the windows."
Following his instructions, Colin proceeded noiselessly along the
road, which curved away to the left about a hundred yards from where
they had halted. As he rounded the bend a dark cluster of trees
sprang into view a short distance ahead of him, and the next moment
he was able to make out the roof and chimneys of a small house, which
appeared to stand a little way back from the road.
"That's our mark," observed Marsden, with a grunt of satisfaction.
He turned round in his seat and addressed the sergeant. "You hop out
here, Bentley, and have a look at it from this side. We'll come back
and meet you at the front gate."
With surprising quickness for so heavy a man, the sergeant stepped
nimbly over on to the running board, and, just as they reached the
shelter of the trees, dropped down into the roadway.
Driving on slowly, Colin passed the head of a narrow lane which
turned off to the right. Beyond it a high wooden paling fronted the
main road, broken in the centre by a couple of dilapidated iron
gates, one of which was standing partly open. Farther back, behind a
straggling shrubbery of laurels, the yellow gleam of a lighted window
shone out into the garden.
"Someone's at home, evidently," muttered the Inspector. "Take us on
as far as the end of the paling and pull up there. I'd like to know
exactly how the land lies before we start work."
Contenting himself with a nod, Colin continued his way along the
fence until he suddenly arrived at a closed gate leading into a
ploughed field, from which an untrimmed hedge ran up at right angles,
forming the boundary of the adjoining property. There was a piece of
level grass at the side of the road, and, guiding the car on to this,
he stopped the engine, and then, bending forward, switched off the
headlights.
"You and Bates stay here for a moment," whispered Marsden. "Keep
still and don't talk to each other. I'm just going along to have a
squint through the hedge."
Getting out of the car, he climbed carefully over the gate, and moved
up the field with the stealthiness of a poacher, until his burly
figure was gradually lost to sight amid the shadows of the bushes.
He reappeared again after an absence of several minutes, and both
Colin and Joe leaned eagerly forward from their seats as he clambered
back and dropped lightly down beside them.
"Everything's in darkness this side of the house," he announced,
"and, as far as I can see, there's no way of getting out of the
garden. We'd better make tracks for the front gate and hear what
Bentley's got to report."
Leaving the car as it was, the three of them stole silently back
under the shelter of the fence, and came to a halt beneath the
branches of a draggled-looking holly tree which overhung the drive.
After a brief wait they were joined by the sergeant, who emerged
furtively from the side turning and advanced on tiptoe to where they
were standing.
"I've found another entrance down the lane," he informed them. "It
leads to a yard at the back, where there's a big shed that looks like
a garage."
"A garage, eh?" rejoined Marsden. "Well, I guess somebody will have
to keep an eye on that side of the house while the rest of us find
some way of getting in at the front." He paused for a moment, and
then added quietly: "We'll take a look at the job first, and make up
our minds exactly how we're going to tackle it. Unless we can drop
in on 'em unexpectedly it's likely to be a pretty awkward business."
Followed by the others, he started cautiously forward up the drive,
and, skirting the edge of the shrubbery, came out on to a neglected
strip of grass, which at some remote period had evidently been a
tennis lawn.
Facing them was the house, an old-fashioned two-storey residence,
with a tumble-down verandah half covered in ivy. From the French
windows in the centre a broad patch of light streamed out hospitably
through the drawn blinds.
Marsden's gaze travelled thoughtfully from one end of the building to
the other.
"There's only one way to do it," he said, in a low voice. "We shall
have to smash in the window and trust to luck." He turned to the
sergeant. "We may nab the lot of them if we're quick enough, but we
can't count on that, not when we've an old hand like Cooper to deal
with. You'd better slip round to the yard again, Bentley, and keep a
watch on the back door."
His assistant nodded. "Very good, sir. It won't take me more than a
couple of minutes. I'll give you a whistle as soon as I'm ready."
He disappeared promptly and silently, and, stepping back to where
Colin and Joe were hiding in the shadow, the Inspector stooped down
beside them.
"I think the simplest plan will be for one of us to tackle the
window," he said. "I'll do that, and you two get ready to rush in
the moment it's open."
"Supposing we can't force it?" whispered Colin. "Some of these
windows have a bar across on the inside."
"In that case we must break the glass and get in as best we can. If
Cooper looks like making trouble, keep out of the way and leave him
to me."
He produced a heavy Service revolver, and, having clicked open the
breech, proceeded to examine it with some care.
With his hands clenched and his heart beating fiercely, Colin started
out across the lawn, waiting for the signal. The feeling that ever
since the morning Nancy had been a prisoner in one of those rooms,
and at the mercy of such a scoundrel as Fenton, filled him with an
apprehension that was almost unbearable. Even if they were in time
to save her from the worst fate of all, heaven knew what hardships
and misery she must have been through during the last eight hours.
His nerves tingled with a savage longing to be face to face with the
man who was responsible for her sufferings, and, crouching there in
the darkness, he swore a bitter oath to himself that, whatever else
happened, Fenton should not escape.
Suddenly, through the silence of the garden, a low whistle sounded
clearly from the back of the house. Colin was on his feet instantly,
but before he could take a step forward both he and Joe were checked
by a quick movement from their companion.
"I'll go first, doctor," whispered the Inspector. "You two keep
close behind, and follow me in directly I smash the lock."
Stooping low, and holding the revolver in his left hand, he set off
at a rapid pace across the lawn. It was only about twenty yards from
the bushes to the house, and in less than half a dozen seconds all
three of them were in front of the verandah.
Without pausing in his stride, Marsden made straight for the French
window. It consisted of two fragile-looking doors with a large pane
of glass in each, and, using his shoulder as a battering ram, the
detective hurled the full weight of his fourteen stone against the
strip of woodwork in the centre.
The other two, who were immediately behind him, heard a splintering
crash and a tinkle of broken glass. Then in the blaze of light that
streamed out through the gap they saw Marsden stumble forward on to
his hands and knees, and, like a scene on the stage, the whole
interior of the room suddenly leaped into view.
No theatre, indeed, could have provided a more dramatic spectacle
than the one which met Colin's eyes as he dashed for the opening. A
couple of men, whom he recognized instantly as Cooper and Hudson, had
sprung to their feet beside an overturned card table, and were
standing as though rooted to the spot with amazement and terror.
It was only for the fraction of a second, however, that the tableau
remained unbroken. As Colin darted in past the Inspector, Cooper,
who was the farther away of the two, seemed instinctively to recover
his wits. With a movement as quick as a panther's he dived back
behind his companion, and, taking a flying jump over the fallen
table, raced headlong for the door.
His flight seemed to act on the deserted Hudson like the breaking of
a spell. A foul oath burst from his lips, and, grabbing one of the
overturned chairs by its nearest leg, he hurled it with all his force
straight in the face of Colin.
The latter, who saw it coming, jerked up his arm just in time. It
struck against his elbow and crashed down on to the floor, tripping
up Joe as he attempted to dodge past in pursuit of the fugitive.
Staggered himself by the blow, Colin recovered almost instantly. One
stride brought him within reach of his assailant, and, ducking under
a clumsy swing, he smashed home a terrific right flush on the point
of the jaw. It was a punch that would have floored ninety-nine men
out of a hundred, and Mr. Jake Hudson was one of the unfortunate
majority. He went down as though struck by a coal hammer, the back
of his head landing with a loud thud against the edge of the table.
Brief though the delay had been, it had enabled "Spike" Cooper to
achieve his object. He was through the door and had slammed and
locked it behind him before the Inspector and Joe were able to gain
their feet. It was Colin, indeed, who was the first to reach it, and
he was already wrenching vainly at the handle when the two others
rushed up to his assistance.
"Wait a minute," rasped the Inspector, who was evidently not in the
best of tempers. "Let me blow in the lock, then we shall have a
better chance."
Levelling his pistol, he emptied a couple of shots into the keyhole,
the powerful bullets smashing and splintering the woodwork in every
direction. As the second report died away they heard a scurry of
footsteps outside, followed almost immediately by the unmistakable
bang of another door.
Pocketing his pistol, the Inspector gripped hold of the knob with
both hands, and, as he jerked it violently toward him, the shattered
bolt snapped and yielded. One more pull, and they stumbled over the
threshold into a dimly lighted hall, where, framed in a doorway
opposite, stood, or rather swayed, the slender figure of a girl.
A low cry escaped Colin's lips, and, breaking from his companions, he
sprang forward and caught her in his arms.
"Nancy! Nancy darling! Thank God, we've found you!"
As he uttered the words the sound of two pistol shots rang out from
the back of the house, and with a stifled oath the Inspector hurried
toward them.
"Which is the way through into the yard?" he demanded.
Nancy pointed across toward a door on the right.
"There!" she gasped. "But it's locked. I heard them lock it and
bolt it. You can only get round by the garden."
"Come with me, Bates," snapped the Inspector. "You stop here,
doctor, and take care of the girl."
He ran toward the sitting room, followed by Joe, while Nancy, who had
momentarily straightened herself as she answered his question, sank
weakly back again against Colin's shoulder.
Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to a small couch which was
standing against the wall.
"Tell me, Nancy," he whispered, "tell me. Are you hurt?"
With a gallant effort she smiled up reassuringly into his face.
"No," she said. "I am only tired out and a little faint. I--I've
been through a good deal since this morning, Colin."
He sat down beside her, taking her hands in his.
"They brought you a forged letter from Penwarren, didn't they? The
girl who lives next door to you told us something about it."
She nodded. "I suppose it was foolish of me to be taken in, but it
looked to me just like his handwriting. It said that he had suddenly
discovered the truth about my father and mother, and that he had come
up to town especially to see me. I went off in the car almost
without thinking."
"Where did they take you to?"
"Some house close to Kensington High Street. There was another man
there besides Major Fenton--a horrible middle-aged, smiling man--and
when they got me inside they held me down and drugged me with a
hypodermic syringe. I think it must have been opium they gave me.
Anyhow, the next thing I remember is waking up with a frightful
headache, and finding myself locked up alone in that room."
With great difficulty Colin managed to steady his voice. "How long
ago was that?" he asked.
"It seems ages, but I think it must have been about the middle of the
day."
"And when did Fenton come back?"
"Just as it was growing dark. He had been down to the river to get
the yacht ready, and had left one of the men here to look after me.
He told me exactly what he meant to do--that he was going to take me
away on the boat and keep me there until--until----" Her voice
faltered.
"I know," said Colin quickly. "I've had the whole story from Medwin!"
"The whole story! Oh, Colin, what does it mean? Why should he----"
"You shall hear everything in a minute," he interrupted. "Just tell
me first what happened when we broke into the house."
"It was all over so quickly," said Nancy. "He was in there talking
to me and threatening me when he suddenly heard a tremendous crash,
and one of the others--the man they call Spike--rushed into the room
and shouted out something about the police. Before I could----" She
stopped abruptly. "Listen!" she exclaimed. "They're coming back."
There was a sound of voices and steps on the verandah outside, and,
letting go Nancy's hands, Colin jumped to his feet.
He walked across to the sitting-room door, where the sight which met
his eyes caused him to hurry forward with a sudden exclamation of
dismay. The Inspector and Joe were coming in through the window,
carrying between them the limp, unconscious body of Sergeant Bentley.
Marsden glanced round, his usually stolid face flushed and contorted.
"They've shot him, doctor--shot him down like a dog and got away in
the car. They must have had it standing ready in the garage."
As he spoke, he and Joe lowered their burden gently on to the thick
rug which lay just across the window, and the next instant Colin had
dropped on his knees, and was bending forward over the prostrate
figure.
To an untrained eye the spectacle was a ghastly one, for the man's
face was covered with blood, which had trickled down from a broad
gash in his forehead. His pulse was still beating, however, and
after feeling it for a few moments, and then closely examining the
injury, Colin looked up with a little gesture of relief.
"It's not as bad as it appears," he announced. "The bullet must have
struck him sideways and glanced off the outside of his temple. He's
only stunned."
"Only stunned!" repeated the Inspector. "Well, in that case he can
stop here with Bates and Miss Seymour, while you and I go after the
others. If they once get on board that boat we may have the devil's
work in catching them."
Colin started up immediately, but before he could speak he was
interrupted by Nancy, who had followed him into the room.
"I can tell you where the yacht's lying," she said. "I heard them
talking about it. It's in some small creek just this side of Thames
Haven."
The Inspector wheeled round sharply on Colin. "Do you know the way?"
he demanded. "Do you think you can overtake them?"
"I expect I can," replied Colin, "unless Nancy would rather I stayed
with her."
She shook her head decisively. "I shall be all right with Joe," she
said. "I want to see those two men punished for trying to kill you."
"You'd want it still more if you knew what we do, miss," said the
Inspector drily.
He rummaged in the sergeant's pocket, and, pulling out a pair of
light steel handcuffs, snapped them round the wrists of the still
unconscious Hudson.
Colin turned to Nancy. "You might bathe this poor fellow's wound,
and bandage him up with a clean handkerchief. If he comes round
before we get back, make him lie perfectly still on the sofa."
She nodded quietly, and with an approving grunt the Inspector offered
her his hand.
"Thank you, miss," he said. "You're a fine young lady, and I
couldn't be more pleased to see you safe, not if you were my own
daughter." Then, as if half embarrassed by this outburst, he added
brusquely. "Come along, doctor! They've got a good start already,
and we're only wasting time talking here."
He strode toward the window, and, just pausing to press a kiss on
Nancy's fingers, Colin followed him out into the garden.
They made their way rapidly across the lawn and down to the front
gate. The moon, which was almost at its full, had already risen, its
silver beauty lighting up the roadway as plainly as though it were
daytime.
The Inspector glanced up into the sky with some gratitude.
"We shall be able to see where we're going, at all events," he
observed. "How far do you think the river is from here?"
"It must be about ten miles to Thames Haven," was Colin's answer.
"There's no other place they could have left the yacht--not this side
of Canvey Island."
"Ten miles!" echoed the other. "Well, if Fenton knows anything about
driving it's going to be a pretty close business."
Breaking into a run, they hurried along the road to where they had
left the car, and with a sharp jerk of the handle Colin set the
engine in motion. Followed by the Inspector, he scrambled into his
seat, and a few seconds later he had backed hastily along the oak
paling, and swung round into the side turning which ran southward
across the marshes.
It was not a route that any one who was fond of his life would have
selected deliberately for the purposes of fast driving. Narrow and
winding, with a thick coating of mud plastered over its surface, it
presented such obvious dangers that even the most foolhardy of
motorists would have been forced to recognize the advisability of
caution.
Caution, however, was the particular virtue which Colin felt least
able to afford. Unless he could make up his lost ground on the more
difficult stages of the journey he could certainly abandon all hope
of success, for on an open and moonlit road Fenton's progress would
probably be as fast as his own.
With a full appreciation of the chances that he was taking he
therefore let out the car to a pace which in any other circumstances
he would never have attempted. Bumping over patches of loose stone,
and splashing through pools of water, he held resolutely on,
regardless of risk, while all the time immediately ahead of him two
broad and recently imprinted tire marks stretched away encouragingly
through the mud.
Whatever the Inspector's private emotions may have been, it must be
admitted that he faced the ordeal with masterly restraint. Once or
twice, as they skidded violently round a blind corner, he caught hold
of the side door with a spasmodic grip, but except for this
instinctive movement he maintained an expressionless calm which
certainly did credit to the self-discipline of the Yard.
For the first three miles Colin needed all his skill and luck to
avoid disaster; then, as they drew farther out into the lonely
marshland which borders the north bank of the Thames, the conditions
gradually improved. The east wind, which blows perpetually over that
desolate region, had already begun to dry up the surface of the road,
while with nothing but an occasional cowshed or a few leafless trees
to obstruct the view, the chances of running headlong into some
unforeseen death trap were reduced to much more comforting
proportions.
Suddenly, with an abrupt movement, the Inspector pointed ahead, to
where a broad shaft of yellow light streamed out against the sky.
"What's that?" he demanded, putting his lips close to Colin's ear.
"Mucking Lighthouse," was the answer. "There are some powder works
away to the right, and the creek they're making for is just between
the two."
At a furious pace the car leaped forward along the deserted road, the
telltale track of the fugitives still standing out plainly in the
glare of the head lamps. Colin was much too occupied with the wheel
to indulge in any further attempt at conversation, while sheltering
his eyes from the wind with one hand, and grasping the back of the
seat with the other, the Inspector stared out in front of him in grim
silence.
Rounding a slight curve between two low banks, they emerged into a
long stretch of almost perfectly straight roadway, and at the same
moment a simultaneous shout burst from both their lips. There in the
moonlight, not more than half a mile away, they could see the dark
outline and gleaming tail lamp of another car, travelling swiftly in
the same direction as themselves.
"There they are!" roared the Inspector. "Keep her going, doctor!
Keep her going, and we've got 'em!"
With an inward prayer that his tires would stand the strain, Colin
drove down the accelerator to its extreme limit. The well-tuned
engine responded to his call, and with the wind rushing in their
faces, and the whole chassis quivering and rocking beneath them, they
surged on recklessly in pursuit of their escaping quarry.
Any doubt as to the respective pace of the two cars was settled in
the next minute. Slowly but surely the distance between them
lessened, until in the bright moonlight it was possible to make out
the bare head and broad shoulders of "Spike" Cooper as he crouched in
the seat alongside the driver, staring back over the swaying tonneau.
"Look out for that devil!" shouted the Inspector. "He'll start
shooting directly we're close enough."
Clutching his own pistol in his hand, he leaned forward over the
dashboard, his eyes glued on the motionless figure ahead.
Nearer and nearer they drew, the mud and gravel flying from beneath
their wheels, the roar and throb of the engine seeming to beat time
to the mad rhythm of the chase.
Suddenly, with a warning cry, Marsden raised his weapon. There was a
simultaneous spurt of flame from both cars, and with a vicious thud
something buried itself in the padded seat just beside Colin's
shoulder.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
A second bullet ripped its way along the front mud guard, and then,
with a kind of stupefying and unimaginable abruptness, the end came.
Colin was just conscious of a shower of sparks from beneath the
steel-studded tires as the car in front of him swerved violently
across the road.
By some instinctive movement his hand shot out toward the brake
lever, and almost at the same second came a deafening and appalling
crash that seemed to strike him in the face like a blow from a fist.