Limp, hysterical, and half-paralysed by her own emotions, Mrs.
Gertstein took the place of Sophie Lengholm. It was an interview that
did not last long, for she literally flung herself before the detective
in a burst of piteous appeals for mercy. There was no possibility of
extracting information from her in her present state, and Labar gave
instructions that she should have the attention of a doctor.
Moreland came by motor to Lydd from Dover. So far as any fresh results
were concerned his journey had been fruitless. The members of the crew
of Larry's boat were utterly unknown to him. But his arrival back at
Lydd was opportune, for he was able to take charge of the arrangements
for getting the prisoners up to London.
Labar himself was to follow, but he was wishful to run over to Rye
to escort Penelope to town, and he determined to have a final look
round before leaving the district. It was still within the bounds of
possibility that some clue would arise in regard to the movements of
Larry. Winter and the Assistant Commissioner also were anxious to get
back to their desks in town, but decided to stay overnight in case of
any fresh development.
The three motored over to Rye together in the gathering dusk, making
a casual detour towards "Mope's Bottom" at the request of Labar to
pick up a report from Malone. But Malone was not there. Indeed, there
were but a couple of C.I.D. men left in the house, and two uniformed
constables of the Kentish force on duty outside. One of the C.I.D. men
observed that a messenger had been sent on to Lydd--whom they must
have missed--telling of two men believed to be Larry and Billy Bungey
lurking in the buildings of a farm on the outskirts of Rye. Malone had
at once set off to investigate, taking with him a dozen men roped in
from "Mope's Bottom" and its vicinity.
"Who brought this story?" asked Winter.
The officer questioned jerked his head outside, where by now, spite of
the loneliness of the place, something like a small crowd had gathered
about the house which had seen such strange doings during the day.
"It wasn't an officer, sir. Someone picked it up as gossip outside.
Malone questioned the man who started it, and decided that there might
be something in it. He judged that it was his duty to go and have a
look into it."
"Quite right," agreed the Chief Constable. He turned to Labar. "It's
likely enough to be a mare's nest. You know how these yarns spread
about at these times. Doesn't sound like Larry to me. All the same we'd
better go and see. It's on our way."
With this vague destination--for no one knew anything more
concrete--they set off, the Metropolitan constable, who drove, taking
the marsh road cautiously under the advice of the local policeman who
sat by him as a guide.
On the main road into Rye, Labar had his attention drawn to an
antiquated Ford which he thought that he recognised. As he suspected,
it contained Malone. The big sergeant was out and at the doorway of the
Assistant Commissioner's car in a trice.
"I was hoping to catch you, sir," he said addressing Labar.
"A stumer, I suppose?" questioned Winter.
"No, it was the straight tip. We were too late to do anything
ourselves, but one of the Kent men has pretty well blown Billy Bungey's
head off with a shot gun. Billy's as dead a man as ever you saw."
"And Larry?" interjected Labar.
"Larry was in the shemozzle, but there were only two constables and he
plugged the one who laid Billy out. The other gave him both barrels but
he doubts if he so much as winged him. Larry held him and the farmer
at bay with his automatic, and backed into a field of standing corn.
Neither of them cared to follow him without more help. By the time
that arrived there was nothing to find except his tracks through the
corn which came out on this road. I've sent men the other way and we
were seeing if we could pick up any trace in this direction."
A few quick questions made the matter clear. A couple of men detailed
to patrol the road had received information from a farmhand of two
strangers moving about the outbuildings of a farm. Their movements
had, in light of the mysterious police doings information of which had
spread over the marsh, struck him as suspicious.
The two policemen, without waiting for more, had rushed to search the
place. Rounding a haystack one of them had come face to face with Billy
Bungey. They were perhaps a couple of yards apart. As the gunman raised
his automatic the policeman fired. Billy dropped forward half his head
shot away, and it was then that Larry Hughes came into view round the
haystack and shot the policeman through the shoulder. The other had
been held at bay until Larry could make good his escape. Then the
wounded man had been assisted into the farmhouse, and in the queer way
that rumour spreads, news of the adventure had reached Malone.
"Carry on, Malone," ordered Winter. "We can get into Rye in ten minutes
and send out help. We'll keep an eye in this direction."
It was necessary to get to Rye also to assume direction of the
telegraphic and telephonic communications of the hunt. Assured that
Larry was still within close reach, Labar ached to take some physical
part in the hunt. Had he been alone it was probable that he would have
dropped all other considerations to do so. But the presence of his two
superiors deterred him from any such suggestion.
After all, there was little that he could do in Rye beyond sending out
a few more men to help beat the surroundings of the farm, and send
messages to all concerned of this new development. So far as human
foresight went all the boltholes had already been stopped. But once in
the town and this done, his thoughts moved to Penelope. He determined
to reassure her of his safety before turning out on the pursuit once
more.
He walked from the police station a little pleased with himself. It was
the first time he had permitted himself to relax for many long hours,
and calm consideration told him that he had done well. The thing was
nearly over. To scour out any of Larry's associates who had so far
escaped would call for nothing more formidable than ordinary routine
and detail work, now that the mastermind was a fugitive who would of
a certainty be caught at any minute. It was a pity about Larry but
still----
He raised the knocker at the door of his lodgings. His matronly
landlady received him with warmth.
"Glad to see you back, sir. There have been all sorts of funny stories
round the town of things that have been happening. Don't know how you
came to miss Miss Noelson. She----"
Labar was wiping his boots on the map. "She's out, is she? Where has
she gone?"
The landlady's face dropped. "Why, she went to meet you. Didn't you
send her a note to meet you at the railway station?"
The detective gripped her by the shoulder and a wave of apprehension
swept over him. "I sent no note. How long ago was this?"
"A quarter of an hour. I----"
But Labar had flung away from her. He was running at the top of his
speed in the direction of the railway station. He was, perhaps for the
first time in his life, conscious of deadly fear. Instinctively he knew
that such a note could have only come from one person. How Larry Hughes
could have known where Penelope was, why he should take the heavy risk
of being in Rye at all were matters on which the detective did not stay
to reason. Enough it was to know that the girl was in danger.
He stayed only to fling an abrupt question to the porter guarding the
platform. "Has any train gone out in this last ten minutes?"
"No, sir. There's one on the other side just going out for London.
Heigh, you can't go through without a ticket."
But Labar thrust him aside and took the short cut over the rails
without troubling the bridge. Another porter roused by the shout of his
colleague rushed to stop him. Labar gave him a push in the chest which
sent him headlong.
"I'm a police officer," he cried. "Let me alone."
Normally he would have cried to the officials to stop the train, but
his mind was obsessed with the one idea, and for the moment incapable
of coherent reasoning. As he swept by the line of carriages he caught a
second's view of the guard with his flag raised and his whistle at his
lips.
The train began to move very slowly, but he was for the moment gaining
upon it, his eyes fixed upon the panorama of the carriage windows. One
glimpse he caught of a face that he knew, and jumped for the door of a
first-class carriage. In the corner of the compartment farthest from
him Larry Hughes was holding back Penelope with one hand while he faced
about with a snarl of rage at the intruder. The door stuck and Labar
wrestled fiercely to pull it open.
Abandoning the girl for the moment Larry leapt forward and aimed a blow
at the officer which had it reached him would probably have dashed him
from his precarious hold. Then like a wild cat the girl took a hand.
So vehement was her attack that Larry was pulled from his balance and
fell backwards on top of her. Before he could recover Labar was in the
carriage.
He had pulled his automatic but he dared not use it lest he should
hit Penelope. Dropping it upon the seat he dashed at the other man
with his naked hands. Larry was taken at a disadvantage, but, powerful
though the detective was, he was unable for a while to gain the
mastery. Pinned for the time beneath the two writhing, struggling men
the girl could do nothing. Indeed she stood in considerable danger of
injury for Labar dared not relax the fight that she might free herself.
Larry was not so big a man as Labar, but some dynamic power seemed to
keep him going. A passing fear came to Labar that the door would give
and precipitate the three of them on the line. He exerted all his force
to pin his antagonist to the floor, but Larry was as slippery as an eel.
The detective took the risk of suddenly releasing his man and stood
half upright. As Larry, too, tried to regain his feet Labar with
careful calculation swung at him. There was one hundred and eighty
pounds of muscular manhood behind the blow, and Larry dropped as if he
was shot. Labar dragged his body off the half-fainting girl and helped
her to a seat.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
She smiled faintly upon him. "A bit bruised and breathless but
otherwise all right," she gasped.
Satisfied that she had suffered no material harm he turned his
attention to Larry Hughes. The girl was pale as she observed him
examine the victim of the knockout.
"Is he dead?" she said.
Labar laughed. "No, he's alive enough. He'll be as full of beans as
ever in five minutes' time. Let's see what we can do." He lifted the
unconscious man to a more convenient position. "Now if you can help me.
Hold his hands while I make sure of him."
She obeyed his instructions while Labar for want of anything
better--like most detectives he never carried handcuffs except for some
definite purpose--knotted his own handkerchief, and one taken from
Larry's breast pocket, about the prisoner's wrists so that his hands
were firmly lashed behind him.
"That's that," he observed, propping Larry up in a corner. "He'll do
till we reach a station. Now tell me how all this came about."
Careless whether Larry returned to consciousness or not he placed one
arm about her and bent his face to hers.
"I had a note," she explained, "signed with your initials telling me
that all was well and asking me to meet you at this train as it was
necessary that you should go to London immediately."
"Who brought the note?"
"Some boy. Probably a messenger picked up in the street. Of course
I went to the station at once, but could see no sign of you, nor of
anyone that I knew till the train was about to start. That was just a
little before you came. Then suddenly Larry Hughes was beside me. I was
startled, of course, but the audacity of the thing somehow prevented
any sense of alarm for the instant.
"'Don't be alarmed,' he said. 'You are looking for Labar?'
"'What are you doing here?' I cried. 'Where is Mr. Labar?' I was so
worried about you that I was unable to think clearly.
"'I am on parole till the train starts,' he declared. 'You will be
pleased to learn that I have surrendered, that I am a prisoner.'"
Labar interrupted her story. "My dear child. Don't tell me that you
were ingenuous enough to swallow that--to believe that I would let a
prisoner--especially Larry--move about on his own?"
"It does sound silly. I was off my balance I suppose. I did not
altogether believe it or disbelieve it. It sounded a little strange,
but then so many strange things have happened to me. I could not
account for his presence in Rye unless he had surrendered. He declared
that you were treating him as a gentleman, and that you had gone to
send a telegram and would be back in a minute. Malone was already in
the train.
"We walked along the train to find the compartment in which Malone was
supposed to be. All at once he gave me a quick push and thrust me into
the train. Instantly he followed, pinning me down to the seat with some
kind of jiu-jitsu hold, and with one hand over my mouth, but seating
himself so that it would be difficult for anyone passing along the
platform to notice what he was doing. Then you came."
In the other corner of the carriage Larry Hughes opened his eyes.
"A fool for luck, Labar," he said sardonically. "Things have come your
way with a vengeance."