The conveniences of civilisation are rarely noticed until they are
missed. Harry Labar would have given much to have had a telephone
within convenient access just then. He regretted that he had not hunted
in company with Malone instead of separating to widen the search. He
had little doubt that if he followed the car tracks back he must come
sooner or later upon the retreat of Larry Hughes and his followers.
But what then? What chance would he stand if he essayed any step
singlehanded against this gang of armed and desperate men?
His commonsense told him to go back to obtain reinforcements from the
Kent Constabulary or even to wire to Scotland Yard. But he had no idea
how long it would take him to walk out of the marsh, let alone to get
in touch with aid. Many hours at the best was certain. Meantime Larry
and his friends might slip out of the trap--for all he knew, they might
have done so already. Every minute might be valuable.
He felt that he was behaving like an impetuous and foolish youngster as
he bent his head to follow the tyre tracks in the direction from which
the car had come.
The mist grew thicker as he trudged on. A damp seafog was sweeping up
from the channel and he shivered beneath his old tweeds. But for the
track he must have inevitably become lost for it soon became impossible
to see more than a few yards ahead. Once he paused to do a queer thing.
He walked deliberately in the muddy slime of a dyke till his boots were
covered with mud. He twisted his slouch hat into a ball and trod on it.
With his penknife he started little holes in his jacket and trousers,
and tore at them with his fingers till the already shabby suit had
become even more dilapidated. A handful of dirt applied to edges of the
rents added to their verisimilitude. One of the best dressed men at
Scotland Yard had become a perfect specimen of a down-at-heels tramp.
He reasoned that should any unexpected encounter take place in the fog
with any of Larry's people he might thus elude recognition. It might be
a superfluous precaution, but it was as well to be prepared.
So he moved on, slowly, because it was necessary to watch the trail
closely. He reckoned that he had been following the tyre tracks for
an hour and a half when a shadowy outline ahead told him that he was
within a few yards of some building. His pulse moved a beat quicker
as he discerned a yard or two in front of him ghostly tall iron gates.
They were solid enough as he reached out to touch them and a second's
investigation told him of the padlock with which they were secured.
As he stood considering his next move there was a quick yelp. Then a
huge form magnified by the mist to gigantic dimensions, hurled itself
with a low snarl at the bars. Lucky, too, it was for Labar that the
gate stood between him and the Alsatian. The gate shook with the
impact, and swiftly and silently as a shadow Labar leapt away.
He groped his way round the wall that surrounded the grounds while the
dog whimpered and snarled. His wits were moving fast. He had recognised
a breed of dog much favoured for police purposes, and he knew that
unless he took precautions right away his discovery was inevitable.
He made a right angled swerve away from the house. He blessed the dykes
that had bewildered him during the day. There must be one somewhere
at hand. He must find it before the house was aroused and they turned
the dog loose. He tripped over a knot of tufted grass and came down on
hands and knees into six inches of water. Recovering himself he pushed
forward through mud and weeds into the ditch. It passed through his
mind that some of these dykes had water ten feet deep, and that the
weeds could baffle the most accomplished swimmer. That was a risk which
there was no time to consider. He pushed forward and the mud dragged
at his ankles.
Behind him he could hear the mutter of men's voices and someone
speaking to the dog. In the strange way in which fog sometimes carries
sound he heard the snap of the gate padlock and the whimper of the
dog as it thudded through in eager pursuit. He was up to his waist by
now, and he turned and waded along the stream for a few yards. The
wolf-hound drew nearer, and Labar nerving himself dropped to his knees
and wondered if it became necessary how long he might be able to keep
his head below water.
The dog reached the edge of the dyke, and came to a halt whining
anxiously. A man's figure loomed up beside him and a moment later two
more.
"Whoever it was has got across," said a voice that the detective did
not recognise. "No use going any farther in this fog."
"That damn dog's seeing things," grumbled another voice, and this time
Labar identified the tone of Billy Bungey. "If there was anything at
all it was a sheep. Who's likely to get out here in a peasoup like
this. Call your tripe hound off and let's get inside. I'd got three
aces, and I looked like winnin' a pot for the first time for an hour."
"Oh, curse your poker," cut in the third voice brusquely. "That dog
doesn't make mistakes. Listen."
They waited breathing heavily. One of them moved along the dyke in an
opposite direction to Labar and looked into its depths. A bullock came
out of the fog and peered at him.
"There's your ghost," he said mockingly.
"And how did he get across the dyke?" questioned another.
"Anyway, whoever it was won't come back," said Billy Bungey. "Come on,
let's chuck it."
The little group moved away, one of them holding the restless hound,
and Labar waiting till he heard the gate clang, dragged himself, sodden
to the skin, from the ditch. The presence of the Alsatian at the
house had complicated matters. If he was to achieve anything on this
excursion it had to be dealt with. While it held its vigil within the
precincts of the house he could scarcely hope to approach unnoticed.
Nevertheless he determined to have another try. It would be maddening
to get so far and have to return with nothing done. He strode
stealthily in what he imagined to be the direction of the house. The
fog had stiffened even more, and now it was scarcely possible to see a
foot-pace in front of him. Something stirred a pace or two to his right
hand and halting in his tracks he turned his face in that direction and
peered into the mist. He thought he could see an indistinct mass low on
the ground. Could it be that after all the pursuit had not been given
up? On the instant he sprang at whoever or whatever it was.
A frightened half-muffled scream and he was grappling with some
unresisting and yielding body. Then he half-understood and abandoned
his grip with a shock of surprise.
"Good heavens, a woman! Miss Noelson! You!"
"Mr. Labar!" She stared at him, as though at some apparition.
A sudden clamour broke out at the house. She was on her feet now, and
clutched wildly at his hand.
"They have found out that I have gone. They were holding me there a
prisoner. When the dog gave the alarm just now they left the gate open
and I slipped out. You mustn't let them catch me again. Come." She
dragged at his hand. "We must get away."
It was no time for full explanations. Hand in hand they turned and fled
heedlessly into the white blanket of the fog. The dyke that had served
Labar so well barred their progress. He swung the girl in his powerful
grip on to his shoulders and carried her across. A gun shot echoed
suddenly, and he laughed.
"Firing at a bullock I should imagine. That ought to keep them
occupied. Keep on going. You're perfectly safe now. They'll never get
us if we keep on."
He felt the girl's pace slacken, and linked his arm in hers to help her
to maintain the pace. Thrice he had to lift her over dykes, and ever
she became slower and slower while her breath came with difficulty.
Then he felt her pause and sink in his grip.
"It's no use. I can't do it," she gasped. "Leave me here. I shall be
all right. You go on."
He let her sink to the damp grass, and stood for a moment poised in
fierce concentration. Dimly in the distance he could hear the muffled
sounds made by the pursuit.
"I think we are safe enough for the time," he said. "It would be a
million to one chance if they lit on us in this. We might as well stay
here for a while."
"Couldn't you leave me and go and get help?" she asked.
He laughed grimly. "I wouldn't leave you in any event," he said, "but,
if I wanted to, I couldn't. We are completely lost."