Mr Kennedy’s Council
When Albert Campion and his two refugees crawled out at the far end of
the passage, they found the cupboard door open and the entire crowd
assembled in the bedroom without, waiting for them. Anne Edgeware
threw herself across the room towards Meggie with a little squeaky cry
that was part sympathy, part relief. Prenderby’s little Jeanne had not
been a reassuring companion.
The strain of the last twenty-four hours had told upon them all. The
atmosphere in the wide, old-fashioned room was electric, and Campion’s
somewhat foolish voice and fatuous expression struck an incongruous
note.
‘Goods as per instructions,’ he said brightly, as he scrambled out of
the cupboard. ‘Sign along the dotted line please.’
As soon as they were all in the room, however, he shut the cupboard
door carefully, betraying that he was especially anxious that no sound
should percolate through into the little box-room they had just left.
Chris Kennedy was the first to speak. He was a little flushed, and
there was an air of suppressed excitement about him that showed that
his wounded arm no longer damped his spirits.
‘Now we’re all here,’ he said, ‘we can get right down to this thing
and work out a scheme to get us out of here and those customers what
they deserve. I’m for a fight.’
‘Here, I say, hold on a minute, my son,’ drawled Martin Watt, ‘let’s
all start fair. What have you two lost souls been up to, first of
all?’ he went on, turning to Meggie and Abbershaw. ‘How did our little
Albert get hold of you? No bickering, I hope?’
‘No, all done by kindness,’ said Mr Campion cheerfully; ‘there was
only one dragon in my path, a female of the species, and full of good
words. Most of them new to me,’ he added thoughtfully. The portion of
Abbershaw’s story which the little doctor felt inclined to tell did
not take very long. The others also had had their adventures; Martin
Watt seemed to have instituted himself spokesman, and as soon as the
other had finished he began.
‘We’ve had sport, too, in our own way. Old Dachshund Dawlish has had
us up one at a time, you know, heard our catechism and our family
history, searched our pockets and let us go again. He has also locked
us all up in the central big hall and had another go at our rooms. Old
Prenderby tried to square a servant and got the business end of a gun
in his tummy by way of retort. The girls have been overhauled by a
ghastly old housekeeper woman and a loony maid. And last but not
least, we had a confidential lecture from Gideon, who gave us the
jolliest little character-sketch of his pal that one can imagine.’
He paused, and a faint smile at the recollection passed over his
indolent face.
‘According to him, the old boy is a cross between Mr Hyde, Gilles de
Rais, and Napoleon, but without the finesse of any of the three. On
the whole I’m inclined to agree with him,’ he continued, ‘but a fat
lot of good it’s doing him or us, for that matter, because he can’t
find his package and we can’t get home to our mommas. I told him that,
but he didn’t seem to see the argument. I’m afraid he’s rather a
stupid man.’
Abbershaw nodded.
‘Perhaps he is,’ he said, ‘but at the same time he’s a very dangerous
one. I may as well tell you fellows,’ he went on, with sudden
determination in his grey eyes, ‘there’s something that’s on my
conscience. I had those papers – they were papers, as a matter of fact
– the first morning we were down here, and I burnt them. I told him
what I’d done when I went in to see him yesterday, but he wouldn’t
believe me.’
He paused and looked round him. Campion’s pale eyes were goggling
behind his enormous spectacles, and Wyatt met Abbershaw’s appealing
glance sympathetically. The rest were more surprised than anything
else, and, on the whole, approving.
Campion voiced the general thought.
‘Do you know what they were – the papers, I mean?’ he said, and there
was something very like wonderment in his tone. Abbershaw nodded.
‘They were all written in code, but I had a pretty shrewd idea,’ he
said, and he explained to them the outline of his ideas on the
subject.
Campion listened to him in silence, and when he had finished glanced
across and spoke softly.
‘You burnt them?’ he said dreamily, and then remarked, as if he had
switched on to an entirely new subject, ‘I wonder if the smoke from
five hundred thousand pounds in notes looks any different from any
other sort of firing.’
Abbershaw glanced at him sharply.
‘Five hundred thousand pounds?’ he said.
‘Why not?’ said Campion lightly. ‘Half a crown here, half a crown
there, you know. It soon tells up.’
The others turned to him, attributing the remark to his usual fatuity,
but Abbershaw met the pale eyes behind the big spectacles steadily and
his apprehension increased. It was not likely that Mr Campion would be
far out in his estimation since he knew so much about the affair.
Five hundred thousand pounds. The colossal sum brought home to him the
extent of the German’s loss, and he understood the crook’s grim
determination to recover the lost plans. He had not thought that the
men were playing for such great stakes. In a flash he saw the
situation as it really was, and his next words were sharp and
imperative.
‘It’s more important than I can say that we should get out of here,’
he said. ‘In fact we’ve _got_ to get out of here at once. Of course I
know it’s been the idea all along, but now it’s imperative. At any
moment now Whitby may return, and Dawlish will be convinced that I
told him the truth yesterday. And then heaven only knows what he will
do. Our one hope is to get out before Whitby comes back.’
‘There’s only one way, I’ve been saying it all along.’ It was Chris
Kennedy who spoke. He was seated on the end of the bed, his knees
crossed, and his young face alert and eager. ‘We shall have to make a
straight fight for it,’ he said. ‘It’s our only hope. No one trying to
sneak out on his own to inform the local Bobby would have an earthly.
I’ve thought of that. They’d spot us and we know they don’t mind
shooting.’
‘There’s a suit of armour in the hall,’ suggested Campion suddenly.
‘I’ll put it on and toddle forth into the night, if you like. They
could pot at me as much as they pleased. How about that?’
Abbershaw glanced at him sharply, but there was no trace of a sneer on
the pleasant vacuous face, and he looked abashed when Kennedy spoke a
little brutally.
‘Sorry,’ he said, without looking round, ‘we haven’t got time for that
sort of stuff now. We’re in a devilish unpleasant situation and we’ve
got to get the girls and ourselves out of it. I tell you, a straight
fight is the only thing for it. Look here, I’ve got it all taped.
We’ve got our first chance coming in a moment. We’ve had dinner every
night so far, so I expect we can reasonably suppose that we’ll get it
again tonight. Two fellows wait on us then. They’re both armed, we
know, and judging from the way they treated Michael they know how to
use their guns all right.’
‘Why, they’re not very tricky, are they?’ said Mr Campion, a faint
expression of surprise appearing in his face. ‘I understood you just
pressed the trigger and – pop! – off it went.’
Chris Kennedy granted him one withering look and went on with his
scheme.
‘There’s only one way to handle these customers, therefore,’ he said.
‘The first thing is to overpower those two and get their guns. Six of
us ought to be able to do that. Then the two best shots had better
take those revolvers and scout round for the others. The important
thing is, of course, that the first bit of work is done in absolute
silence. I believe that once we get those two guns we can lay ’em all
by the heels. We shall be prepared, we shall be organized – they
won’t. What do you say?’
There was a moment or two of silence. Martin Watt was the first to
speak.
‘Well, I’m for it,’ he said.
‘So am I,’ said Wyatt quietly.
Abbershaw hesitated, and Prenderby too was silent, whilst Albert
Campion remained mild and foolish-looking as if he were looking in on
the scene from outside.
Abbershaw was thinking of Meggie. Prenderby too had his fiancée
clinging to his arm. Mr Campion appeared to be thinking of nothing at
all.
‘After all, it does seem to be our only chance.’
It was Prenderby who spoke, and the words stirred Abbershaw.
What the boy said was perfectly true. He turned to Kennedy.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘I’m with you.’
Kennedy looked pointedly at Albert.
‘And you?’ he said.
Albert shook his head. ‘Oh, I’m not standing out,’ he said. ‘I don’t
like these rough games, but I don’t shirk them when they’re thrust on
me. What do we all do?’
Mr Kennedy appeared to have the whole plan clear in his mind.
‘It’s quite simple,’ he said, leaning his chin in his unwounded hand
and bending forward, an intent expression in his eyes.
‘Let _me_ shape your career for you!’ quoted Mr Campion brightly.
Kennedy reddened angrily and dropped the pose, but he went on
doggedly.
‘My idea,’ he said, ‘is that three go down to dinner with the girls.
I’m afraid they’ll have to come or the men will smell a rat. They
start food, and the other three fellows wait outside the door until
one of their laddies is at work on the side table and the other
serving the dishes at the big table. At that moment someone knocks a
glass on to the flags. That’s the signal. Then the blokes outside the
door charge in and seize the carver. One of ’em gets his arm. Another
stuffs a hanky in his mouth, and the third stands by to slog him over
the head if necessary. Hang it, we can’t go wrong like that. The only
thing is they mustn’t suspect us. We’ve got to take them by surprise.
It’s the simplest thing going as long as we don’t make a row.’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Campion, standing up with sudden solemnity. ‘A very
clever idea, but what we have to ask ourselves is: Is it quite fair?
Three men on to one. Come, come, we must remember that we are British,
and all that. Perhaps we could each tie a hand behind our backs – or
shall I offer them single combat instead?’
Chris Kennedy rose to his feet, and walking across to Mr Campion spoke
quietly but vigorously.
Mr Campion blushed.
‘I didn’t think you’d take it like that. You will have it your own
way, of course. I shan’t say anything.’
‘You’d better not,’ said Kennedy, and walked back to his seat.
‘Abbershaw, you, Michael, and Mr Campion had better go down with the
girls, and Wyatt, Martin, and I will wait for the signal of the broken
glass. Who’s going to do that? It had better be a girl. Miss Oliphant,
will you do it?’
Meggie nodded.
‘As soon as one man is at the carving-table and the other serving us,’
she said.
Kennedy smiled at her. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Now is that clear?’ he
went on, glancing around him, his eyes dancing with excitement.
‘Abbershaw, you get the bloke’s arms, Prenderby, you’re responsible
for gagging the sportsman! –’
‘Yes?’ said Campion, who was apparently gibbering with excitement.
‘And what can I do?’
‘You stand by,’ said Kennedy, with something suspiciously like a sneer
on his handsome young face.
‘Oh, very well,’ said Mr Campion, looking considerably disappointed.
‘I’ll stand ready to dot the fellow with a bottle if necessary.’
‘That’s the idea,’ agreed Chris Kennedy somewhat grudgingly, and
returned to the others. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘it’ll be a bit of a
shock for the two lackey-thugs to see you all turning up bright and
happy after your adventures; still, I think the idea is to walk in as
if nothing had ever happened. You can indulge in a certain amount of
bright conversation if you like, to put them off the scent. That’s
where you’ll come in useful,’ he added, turning to Campion. ‘Talk as
much as you like. That’s the time to be funny.’
‘Righto,’ said Mr Campion, brightening visibly. ‘I’ll show them my
two-headed penny. I’ll be awfully witty. “They laughed when I sat down
at the piano, but when I began to play they knew at once that I had
taken Kennedy’s Patent Course. How they cheered me on –”’
‘Oh, shut up,’ said Martin Watt, grinning good-naturedly. ‘The fun
starts at dinner, then. Oh, and by the way, when we’ve pinched these
fellows’ guns, what do we do with the laddies? Leave them lying
about?’
‘I’ve thought of that,’ said the indefatigable Kennedy; ‘we tie ’em
up. I’ve been collecting portmanteau straps. That’ll do it, you’ll
find. We’ll lash ’em both into chairs and leave ’em there.’
‘Yes,’ said Martin, ‘and next? When we’ve fixed up all that, what
happens next?’
‘Then somebody takes charge of the girls,’ said Kennedy. ‘They lock
themselves in some safe room – Miss Oliphant’s bedroom just at the
head of the stairs, for instance. Then the rest of us form into two
parties with a revolver each and storm the servants’ quarters, where,
with a certain amount of luck, we shall get another gun or two. Then
we can let out at some of these lads who amble round keeping an eye on
us after dinner. We’ll tie ’em up and raid old Dawlish’s quarters.’
He paused and looked round him, smiling.
‘As soon as we’ve got everyone accounted for, we get the girls and
sheer out of the house in a body. How’s that?’
‘Sounds lovely,’ said Mr Campion, adding after a pause, ‘so simple.
It’ll be rather awkward if someone makes a noise, though, won’t
it? I mean you might have the entire gang down on you at the
one-gun-per-three-men stage.’
Kennedy snapped at him. He was thoroughly tired of Mr Campion’s
helpful suggestions.
‘There just hasn’t got to be any noise,’ he said, ‘that’s the point.
And by the way, I think you’re the man to stay with the girls.’
There was no mistaking his inference, but to Abbershaw’s surprise Mr
Campion seemed to jump at the idea.
‘Righto,’ he said, ‘I shall be delighted.’
Chris Kennedy’s answering remark was cut short, rather fortunately,
Abbershaw felt, by a single and, in the circumstances, highly dramatic
sound – the deep booming of the dinner gong.