Comrades All
"When do we take over, sir?" inquired Villiers.
The reply came sharp and to the point.
"From now," replied Sir Hugh. "In Claverhouse's case, I understand,
he will have to give in his resignation. There's one more point. In
addition to board and quarters--you'll be regarded as members of the
establishment--there will be an amount of two guineas a week to each
of the syndicate until we leave England. That will be as soon as
possible, but it would hardly be fair to expect you to hang on here
without some slight remuneration. Now let's be going."
The four men made their way to the garage, where Claverhouse showed
Villiers how to manage the baronet's car, which was of a type that
the R.N.V.R. man knew intimately. Then, having "started up",
Claverhouse boarded the "Odouresque" with Beverley as his companion,
while Sir Hugh and Villiers seated themselves in the other.
The journey to Southampton was performed at strictly moderate speed,
and nothing unusual occurred. Villiers led the way, the powerful
"Odouresque" following a hundred yards behind at a pace that seemed a
painful crawl to the road-hogging Alec.
Just before the Bargate, Claverhouse took a side-road in order to
return the car to the Odouresque Co., Ltd., leaving Villiers to take
the head of the syndicate to Richborough Chambers.
It was an intricate piece of work to negotiate the ancient and narrow
gateway that spans Southampton's principal street. The road was not
only greasy, and had tram lines on it, but there was a slight descent
to the Bargate itself. Here stood a policeman regulating the traffic,
since it was possible for vehicles to pass only in one direction at a
time.
The traffic was passing in the right direction as Villiers
approached. Just ahead was a tramcar, while following the motor--he
could see that by means of the reflector--was a petrol-driven dray
with three or four men sitting on the otherwise empty body.
The tramcar emerged from under the arch, but just as Villiers was
immediately under the gate a cyclist, disregarding the policeman's
upraised arm, dashed headlong towards the front of Villiers' car.
Not for one moment did the ex-officer lose his nerve. To swerve meant
wrecking the car and possibly injuring or killing its occupants.
He applied both brakes, but the metal-shod tyres slithered on the
greasy tramlines. The next instant the impact occurred.
It was the cycle that bore the brunt of the collision. Its rider,
with considerable dexterity, had dismounted, and leaping into safety
had left his machine to meet destruction. The dray, pulling up,
filled almost the whole of the archway, with its bonnet within a
couple of inches of the tail of the car.
Within a few seconds a crowd had collected. The traffic was held up
while the policeman, note-book in hand, was taking particulars of the
accident.
"Take this," whispered the baronet, pushing a small blue-covered case
into Villiers' hand. "It's my driving licence."
"Have you a licence, sir?" inquired the policeman
"I have," replied Villiers truthfully. "Here it is."
The guardian of the law was visibly impressed by the name.
"Very good, sir," he said saluting. "Merely a matter of form. I don't
think you'll hear anything further about the accident. The cyclist
was entirely in the wrong."
"Punctual to the minute," remarked Sir Hugh, as the car drew up in
front of Richborough Chambers. "Hallo! Where's that attaché-case?"
It had vanished. Thinking perhaps that the sudden application of the
brakes had jerked it under the seat, the baronet made a comprehensive
search, but without result.
"Rotten luck," commented Villiers.
"Might have been worse," rejoined Sir Hugh oracularly. "Let's get in
and see what's doing. The commissionaire will give an eye to the
car."
He led the way to a large room on the ground floor. From the
adjoining room came the subdued hum of voices.
"Adventure aspirants," remarked Sir Hugh, nodding his head in the
direction whence the sounds came. "You'll be my secretary _pro tem_.,
Villiers. Cast your eye over these letters and see if you recognize
any of the writers."
He handed Villiers a bundle of about thirty envelopes.
"I know three of these names," replied Jack, after scanning the
contents of the communications. "Merridew, O'Loghlin, and Fontayne."
"Anything detrimental?"
"To the contrary," replied Villiers.
"Good! We'll see them first. But one moment, I want an advertisement
drafted, something to this effect:--'Lost from car, between
Winchester and Southampton, attaché-case, containing papers of no
value except to owner--no, say owners. Finder will be liberally
rewarded on returning same.' That ought to fetch 'em."
"Is the loss a very serious matter," asked Villiers.
"To someone," replied Harborough. "The case wasn't lost, it was
stolen!"
"Stolen?" repeated Jack incredulously.
"Precisely," continued the baronet. "But I'll go into the matter with
you later. Now let's interview Messrs. Merridew and Co."
The three ex-officers were considerably surprised when Jack Villiers
entered the room where they were waiting, and asked them to "come
this way".
"Something good on, old man?" inquired O'Loghlin. "Sure it is if
you've got a finger in the pie."
Villiers was non-committal. He did not like the responsibility of
advising his former comrades on this particular point.
But in less than five minutes the trio had "signed on", and were told
to report at Thalassa Towers at eleven on the following morning.
The next applicant was an R.N.R. officer, Swaine by name, whose chief
qualification lay in the fact that he had been employed by a salvage
company and was an experienced diver.
"I should think there are plenty of openings for you in England,"
remarked Harborough.
"So there are, sir," replied Swaine, pulling out a bunch of letters
from his pocket. "I've half a dozen jobs to go to in the salvage
line, but I've seen enough of the North Sea and the English Channel
the last four years. Somewhere in the Pacific would suit me, although
you didn't say where, sir. S'long as it's not off Vladivostok, the
Behring Straits, or south of the Chloe Archipelago, I'm on it."
The selection business proceeded apace. Two men were "turned down"
politely, for Harborough knew what he wanted and meant to get it. He
was a shrewd judge of human nature. Another applicant "hedged", tried
to be funny by asking irrelevant questions, and, remarking that he
wasn't jolly well going to pay to work and chuck good quids away, put
on his hat and departed.
The last to be interviewed was a short, small-featured youngster with
a very mild voice and manner, who blushed hotly when spoken to and
showed considerable hesitation in framing his words. He seemed keen,
but Villiers, looking on, felt certain that the youth wouldn't come
up to the standard.
"What's your Service experience, my lad?" asked Sir Hugh. "You've
forgotten to mention that in your letter."
For answer the youth handed in a sheet of paper--his record of
service. Amongst other items it was noted that he was a
flying-officer, held the M.C. with bar, and had been twice mentioned
in dispatches for brilliant reconnaissance work over the enemy lines
and for engaging and destroying three hostile machines. His
"Protection Certificate" left no doubt as to the identity of the
modest aerial warrior.
"Still keen on flying, Mr. Trevear?"
"Rather," replied the ex-airman with a sudden and unexpected burst of
enthusiasm. "I wanted to stay in the R.A.F., but it was no go. Then I
applied for a post as pilot at a civilian flying-school, but up to
now I've heard nothing."
"Do you know the 'Cormorant' sea-plane?"
"Heard of it, sir," was the reply. "My buses were mono-airplanes, but
I think I'd cotton on to a seaplane with very little difficulty."
"Good enough," exclaimed Harborough. "A stout heart goes a long way.
Willing to sign on, on the terms I mentioned?"
"Rather," replied the now eager youth.
"That's the lot," commented Sir Hugh, when Villiers and the baronet
found themselves alone. "Quite a representative crush, eh? I think
they'll shape all right. Now we'll pack up, Beverley and Claverhouse,
and get back. There's plenty to be done in the next fortnight."