They had been out-witted. The conclusion was forced decisively upon
them as they returned to the road at which Larry and the others had
evaded them.
"There are two turnings. They might have gone right or left," said
Labar gloomily. He descended to examine the tracks. "They've done
neither," he added. "Look here. They pulled up under the shelter of
these trees till we had gone past. Then they backed out and doubled on
their tracks. We've wasted ten minutes. They're miles away by now."
"Got any idea of the place for which they might be making," suggested
the doctor, hopefully. "We might cut 'em off."
"Not a million to one chance, I'm afraid," said the detective. "No.
We're done. I'm much obliged to you, doctor, for your help. It isn't
your fault that they slipped us. We may as well get back to 'Maid's
Retreat' and find out what has happened to the servants and one of my
men."
They took the return journey at an easier pace, and it was something
more than an hour before they were halted at the lodge gates of "Maid's
Retreat" by a uniformed constable of the county police, who demanded to
know their business.
Labar swore under his breath, as he made a guess at what had happened.
He had no animus against the local police--indeed he had been prepared
to ask for their assistance--but he would have preferred that for the
time as few people as possible should know of the dramatic occurrences
of which the house had been the centre.
His fears were confirmed when he made known his identity to the
policeman. "The super's looking for you, sir. Seems to have been a
regular hold-up. They found one of your chaps trussed up in a tool
shed."
"How did you people come to know about this business?" demanded the
inspector.
"The butler 'phoned through to the officer at the village, and he got
through to the super. We came along by car."
They left him and drove up to the house. Before the car had stopped
Malone was running alongside with outstretched hand, and a broad smile
of relief on his face.
"Thank God you're all right, sir. I was worried."
"Oh there's nothing much wrong with me. They made a clean get-away,
that's all. How about you?"
Malone rubbed his head, ruefully. "My hat won't fit for a few days,
I guess. Got a lump like an ostrich egg on my head. Last thing I was
thinking of was that sort of trouble. I was leaning against a tree
smoking a pipe and keeping a quiet eye on the house when an earthquake
hit me. Oh, someone laid me out good and proper. When I came to I was
in the dark and tied up so that I couldn't wink. That's all I knew till
some of the local police found me half an hour ago. I heard shots while
I was lying there and I got the wind up when we found you were missing."
The local superintendent of the County Constabulary welcomed Labar
eagerly. Episodes of this kind were rare among the placid routine of
work in a country district. He was a lean, tall, not unintelligent man,
with mild watery eyes, and a gruff voice. Although nominally his rank
was superior, the advent of a chief detective inspector from Scotland
Yard was something of an event.
He gripped Labar's hand sturdily. "Glad to meet you. Perhaps we'll be
able to twist some sense out of this nightmare now. You don't know
what's happened to Mrs. Gertstein, I suppose?"
"She's gone?" exclaimed the inspector. "Well, I might have expected it."
"Well, you know more about it than we do," said the local man. "Mr.
Malone tells me that you were on some inquiries about the Streetly
House robbery when these people butted in. Do you think they have done
any harm to Mrs. Gertstein?"
"I don't think that likely," said Labar. He pushed his hand through the
other's arm and led him aside. "Look here," he said. "This woman will
be wanted for a crime which has no direct connection with the Streetly
House burglary. She's probably absconded of her own free will. Now this
business is bound to be the talk of the countryside, what with the
servants and the men you have brought here. I want it to be regarded
outside, as merely a daring raid by armed bandits, whose motives are
as much a mystery to us as to anyone else. Can you give your men that
impression?"
"Easiest thing in the world. Since I do not know anything myself, it
ought to be simple to pretend that I'm bewildered."
"Thank you. I'll try and handle the servants. There's some things I am
still in the dark about, myself."
But the flustered group of five or six men and women whom he
interviewed later was able to add little to his stock of information.
All they could speak of was the sudden apparition of two or three men
who, armed with pistols, had rounded them up one by one, and left them
under guard in the servants' hall breathing dire and fearful threats of
what might happen if they attempted any resistance. There they had been
held, a panic-stricken group, until with a final warning not to move
for ten minutes, a thin-faced man who had taken chief control of them,
had slipped away. The descriptions they gave of the men, as usual where
the ordinary person is called upon for a test of observation, varied in
immense degree. That did not so much matter as Labar imagined that he
had himself seen most of the principals in the raid.
"We'll have a look through the house, in case they've left anything
behind," observed the detective inspector to Malone. "They may have
hurried a little too much."
But the search, minute and detailed as the circumstances allowed,
brought small result. In Mrs. Gertstein's room there was evidence that
she had hurriedly packed a couple of bags, and downstairs in the room
where Labar had been received by Mrs. Gertstein and where Hughes had
interrupted them, there was a pile of burnt papers in the grate.
"I evidently did not knock all the wits out of Larry," said Labar.
"Mrs. Gertstein would not have thought of that by herself. She has been
destroying her correspondence."
He bent to examine the ashes, and shook his head. There are methods of
piecing together and preserving even burnt papers if they are not too
far gone. But these had apparently been stirred again and again with
a poker till they were little but impalpable ash. The detective again
discerned the hand of Larry. It was this kind of forethought that had
aided to give that crook immunity for so long.
On a little writing-table was a note heavily sealed with red wax, and
addressed to "Harry Labar, Esq." The inspector tore it open.
"My Dear Labar," it began, "Your hurried departure prevented me from
putting to you an angle of our discussion that you will perhaps have
not considered sufficiently. There is a person in whom if I guess
aright you have an interest. This person is under my charge and
control, and you will understand that some of your activities might
result in prejudicing her welfare. No one would regret that more than
myself, but if you persist I may be too occupied to protect her as
I should like. One of your alert intelligence will appreciate the
awkwardness of my position. I tell you this freely and frankly, because
I know that your personal feelings are so engaged that you will make no
official use of this letter. If you feel inclined to accept the offer
I have made just advertise the word 'Yes' in the personal column of
_The Times_. The goods I spoke of will then reach you without fail
by channels I have thought of. But I strongly advise you not to try any
tricks in this matter. We are scarcely likely to meet again."
The letter was unsigned. Labar smoothed his chin thoughtfully and read
it over twice. It was clever, and he appreciated all its unwritten
significance as Larry knew he would, yet the construction he put upon
it could not have been substantiated if after all he did try to use
it as a piece of evidence in a court of law. Penelope was to become a
hostage, and she would be in danger unless Labar accepted the bribe
to smother the case. While he might go on at any risk to himself, he
might well hesitate to expose her to the vengeance of Larry Hughes. The
thing was possibly a supreme attempt to bluff, but the inspector felt
uneasiness. Larry had the reputation of using any instrument ruthlessly
to serve his ends.
Labar thrust the letter with a sudden and abrupt movement into his
pocket vouchsafing no hint or comment on its contents to Malone or the
superintendent. On that point at least Larry had guessed right. He
would not drag Penelope's name into the case any more than could be
avoided.
"When's the next train?" he demanded. "I don't think we can do any more
here for now."
Malone found him a morose and silent companion on the way to town. The
inspector in fact could not get Penelope out of his mind. He bent his
mind doggedly to consideration of the next steps that should be taken.
He would have to see Gertstein immediately upon his arrival in town.
For in any case Mrs. Gertstein was now a fugitive from justice. She
had tried to murder him. She would have to be run down for that, and
whatever her husband's attitude was, she would certainly have to be
charged with forgery, although Labar could foresee trouble about that,
when he came to tell of the circumstances of her admission to him. A
dour smile broke upon his features as he reflected that this woman was
likely to be an even greater embarrassment to Larry Hughes than she was
to him.
"I guess Larry will find her a difficult proposition to handle," he
said aloud.
"Who? What?" demanded Malone, who had been dozing in a corner of
the compartment, after his vain attempts to lure his chief into
conversation.
"I was saying that Larry Hughes may find Mrs. Gertstein liable to shy
over the traces."
"He certainly ought to be easier to find while she's pinned to his coat
tails," agreed Malone.
"He'll try to get her out of the way," said Labar. "It's a hundred to
one that he tries to slip her abroad. If he goes himself the gang will
take different routes to different places. First thing we must do is
to let the ports have photographs of the lady and descriptions of the
other people. Yes, it's a sure thing they'll split up. Larry won't make
it any easier for us than he can help."
"Then it's time for us to come out in the open, guv'nor. Let the
newspapers have the story. With millions of pairs of eyes looking for
that lot they're not all going to get through."
"Not quite ripe enough for that yet, Bill," dissented the other.
"There's people we're not sure about in this game. We want to rope them
in, and a splurge in the papers would give them warning."
"What you say goes, guv'nor. Only here's our big chance to put Larry
behind the bars. Whether it's for the Streetly House burglary or for
something else, doesn't matter."
Labar clapped a fist into the palm of the other hand. "Take it from
me, Bill, if we can get our hooks on that man on any pretext we'll
keep him. But although we've got him on the run I don't want to go off
at half-cock. Another day or two and I think we'll have enough proof
against him, so that even the wiliest barrister living won't be able to
wriggle him out of a sentence that will keep him out of the way till
we've got long white beards and are out of the service. I aim to make
the case water-tight. Though mind you," he added, a little wistfully,
"if I knew where to find him now I'd give half a year's pay."