THE AMATEUR DETECTIVES
I
By nine o'clock the last pantechnicon that was going back that night
had rumbled off to Lowestoft, there to be entrained for London. One
still remained on the drive, waiting to be taken back by the horses
that would bring the first van in the morning.
With the last van went Bindle, much to his regret.
"It's like not goin' to yer own funeral," he grumbled.
Holmleigh was shut up and in darkness, save for a slit of light that
could be seen beneath the Venetian blind of the dining-room. Inside
the room sat the foreman.
He was smoking a meditative pipe, and cursing the luck that left him at
Holmleigh to play night-watchman. He was not a nervous man, but his
mind instinctively travelled back to the events of the day. Why had so
many people been desirous of seeing Bindle? He had subjected Bindle
himself to a very thorough and picturesque cross-examination. He had
told him what he thought of him, and of those responsible for his
being. He had coaxed him and threatened him, but without result.
Bindle had expressed the utmost astonishment at his sudden popularity,
and professed himself utterly unable to account for it.
Once or twice the foreman thought he saw the shadow of a grin flit
across Bindle's face, especially when Bindle suggested that he should
act as night-watchman, adding as an excuse the obvious fatigue of his
superior. It was this that had terminated the interview with great
suddenness.
Thus meditating upon the curious occurrences of the day, the foreman
dropped off to sleep, for he was tired, and the armchair, in which he
half lay, half sat, was extremely comfortable.
As he slept a dark form moved stealthily up the drive towards the
house. Keeping well within the shadow of the trees, it paused to
listen, then moved on for a dozen yards and stopped again. When it
reached the top of the drive it crept off to the left in the direction
of the tradesmen's entrance.
Displaying great caution, the figure finally reached the scullery
window, which by a curious chance was unfastened. After great
deliberation, and much listening, it opened the window, and inserting
itself feet foremost disappeared.
Three minutes later the back door was noiselessly unbolted and opened.
The figure looked out cautiously, then retreated within, leaving the
door open to its fullest extent.
The first figure had scarcely disappeared before another approached the
back door from the opposite direction. It must have come through the
hedge and crept along in its shadow from the main entrance. The second
figure paused, as if astonished at finding the back door open. For
some minutes it stood in the shadow of the water-butt, listening.
Finally, with a quiet, insidious motion, it slid through the doorway.
The first figure, passing cautiously through the servants' quarters,
had reached the hall. Finding all the doors shut, it proceeded
stealthily upstairs to the large drawing-room that overlooked the
drive. The door was open! Groping its way with great care, the figure
for one second allowed the light of a dark lantern to show. The effect
was startling. The whole room was piled up with long narrow wooden
cases. On several tables, formed by boards on trestles, were laid out
what appeared to be dozens of rifles. The figure gasped. The place
was apparently nothing less than a huge arsenal. The long narrow cases
contained guns! guns!! guns!!!
The figure had just picked up one of the guns to make sure that its
eyes were telling the truth, when there was the sound of a footfall on
the landing.
The figure turned quickly, and the rifle dropped with a crash to the
floor. For some time it stood as if petrified with horror, then with a
swift, stealthy movement reached the door. Here it turned sharply to
the left and ran into something small and soft. With a yell the
something turned. In a moment two forms were locked together. With a
thud they fell, and lay a writhing, wriggling mass at the top of the
stairs.
II
The foreman had no idea how long he had slept, or what it was that
awakened him; but suddenly he found himself wide awake with a feeling
that something was happening. The lamp had gone out, there was no
moon, and he felt cold, although he knew it to be July.
For a minute he listened intently. Not a sound broke the stillness,
save the rustle of the trees as the wind sighed through them. He went
to the window and looked out under the blind. It was quite dark. He
shook himself, then pinched his leg. Yes, he was awake.
Then he heard a creak overhead, and it suddenly came home to him that
the house was being burgled. A passionate anger seemed to grip hold of
him. Silently and swiftly he opened the door that led into the hall.
He had not moved three steps before he was brought to a standstill by a
yell that echoed through the whole place. It was followed a moment
later by what appeared to be an avalanche descending the stairs. From
stair to stair it bumped through the darkness, and finally lay heaving
and grunting almost at his feet. There were muttered exclamations,
curses, threats, and the dull sound of blows.
The foreman sprang forward and clutched with his right hand a human
ear. Feeling about with his left hand, he secured a handful of hair.
Then he brought two heads together with a crack. The muttering and
movement ceased, and the foreman pantechnicon-man struck a match.
"Crikey!" The exclamation burst involuntarily from his lips. He
rummaged in his pockets and presently produced about two inches of
candle; this he lighted and held over the recumbent mass at his feet.
"Well, I'm--I'm blowed!" he stuttered, conscious of the inadequacy of
his words. There at his feet lay Mr. Greenhales and Sergeant Wrannock,
whom the foreman recognised only as two of the afternoon's visitors.
For fully two minutes he stood regarding his captives; then, with a
grin of delight, he blew out the candle, carefully opening the front
door.
There was nothing to be seen save the trees and the empty
pantechnicon-van. The great black shape appeared to give him an idea.
The doors were open, and without hesitation he stepped back into the
hall, picked up one of the prostrate figures, and carried it into the
van; a moment later he did the same with the other. Closing the doors,
he barred and padlocked them and re-entered the hall.
Later he returned to the pantechnicon, unfastened the padlock, and left
the doors merely barred. Still grinning to himself he once more
entered the house, picking up an old-fashioned pistol from many that
lay upon the dining-room table. Next he opened the dining-room windows
at the bottom, performing the same operation with those in the
morning-room.
Finally, locking the doors of both rooms from the outside, he made a
tour of the whole house, and, having satisfied himself that no one was
secreted within, he slipped out of the front door and closed it behind
him, unaware that a pair of terrified eyes were watching him from the
head of the stairs.
"There's two still to come," he muttered, and waited. At the end of an
hour he heard a grind as of gravel beneath a boot. He listened
eagerly. After fully five minutes of silence he heard another grind,
and a dark shape approached the dining-room window. The foreman still
waited. It took a quarter of an hour for the shape to make up its mind
to raise the window higher and enter. The sound of suppressed wheezing
could be distinctly heard. When the figure had with difficulty forced
itself upon the window-sill, the foreman leapt out, grasped its leg,
and pulled. There was a wheezy shout, and the foreman was kneeling on
the path, with a figure between his knees and the gravel.
Again he struck a match, which disclosed the ashen features of the
landlord of the Dove and Easel. Without hesitation the foreman picked
him up and bundled him into the pantechnicon and once more barred the
door. As he turned back he saw the hall door open slightly. At first
he thought it was his imagination. As he watched, however, the door
continued to open stealthily, inch by inch, until finally a figure
appeared.
Dawn was breaking, and in the half-light he saw a small man slide out
and creep along by the side of the house. At first the foreman
watched; then, seeing that his man was likely to escape, he sprang out.
The figure ran, the foreman ran, and ran the faster. Then the fugitive
stopped, and facing round caught the foreman a blow in the chest as he
came on unable to stop.
With a yell of rage the foreman lifted his pistol and brought it down
with a crash upon his opponent's head. In a grey heap the trespasser
dropped. Another match was struck, revealing Sir Charles Custance's
rubicund features, down which a slow trickle of blood wound its way.
"That's the 'ole bloomin' bag, I take it," commented the victor grimly,
as he bundled the portly frame of the magistrate into the van, taking
every precaution against a possible rush for freedom on the part of the
other captives. He then addressed the interior at large.
"I'm a-watchin' outside, and if yer so much as cough or blow yer noses
I'll shoot through the sides with this 'ere ole blunderbuss. D' ye
'ear, cockies?"
With that he banged the doors to, barred and padlocked them, and sat on
the tail-board watching the greyness of the dawn steal through the
trees, as he struggled to keep awake.
He was so occupied when, at half-past seven, a distant rumble announced
the arrival of the expected pantechnicon from Lowestoft. As it slowly
lumbered up the drive the foreman grinned, and he grinned more broadly
when he saw Bindle slip from the tail-board, followed by Ginger and two
other men.
"Mornin', Bindle; mornin', Ginger," he called out politely. "Slep'
well?"
Bindle grinned, and Ginger grumbled something inaudible.
"Now, one o' you two go an' get my breakfast, and the other telephone
for the perlice."
The men stared at him.
"Ginger," he continued complacently, "you'll find two eggs and some
bacon in the 'all, an' a stove in the kitchen, an' a pot of coffee wot
only wants warmin' up. I'm 'ungry, Ginger--as 'ungry as 'ell is for
you, Ginger. Bindle, give my compliments to the perlice at Lowestoft,
and arst them to send a few peelers over 'ere at once to take charge o'
what I caught last night."
Bindle scratched his head, uncertain whether or no it was all a joke.
"Yes, Bindle," continued the foreman, "I've got 'em all--all in Black
Maria," and he jerked his thumb in the direction of the pantechnicon.
"All yer very dear ole pals, cockie. Like to see 'em?"
Bindle still looked puzzled; but when the foreman had explained his
grin transcended in its breadth and good-humour that of his superior.
Then the foreman changed the style of his idiom, and his subordinates
went their ways as he had intended and directed that they should.
The foreman was just finishing his breakfast by sopping up the
bacon-fat with a piece of bread, when there reached him the sound of a
motor-car chunking its way along in the distance.
The news of the night's doings had spread rapidly, and a small crowd
was collected round the gates of Holmleigh. Bindle grinned through the
bars, and occasionally threw to the curious neighbours bits of
information.
The car approached and drew up. In it was a tall, spare man of about
thirty-eight or forty, with thin, angular features. He seemed
surprised to see the crowd; but turning the car through the open gates
drove slowly up to the house.
The crowd recognised the stranger as Mr. Richard Miller, the new tenant
of Holmleigh. He nodded to the foreman, who immediately descended from
the tail-board and approached.
"Good-mornin', sir," he said. "You're earlier than wot I 'ad 'oped,
sir; but that's on the lucky side. I been 'avin' rather a lively
night, sir."
At this moment there was a loud and continuous pounding from within the
pantechnicon that he had just left.
"If you're not quiet I'll shoot--God forgive me, but I will," he
shouted over his shoulder. Then turning to Mr. Miller he winked
jocosely. "Gettin' a bit impatient, sir. They 'eard you come, I
s'pose. I've 'ad 'em there for several hours now. Ah! 'ere's the
perlice!"
As he spoke another car appeared round the bend of the drive, and an
inspector in uniform and three plain-clothes men got out.
"Now there's goin' to be some fun," the foreman chuckled to himself as,
addressing Mr. Miller, he told of the happenings of the night before.
When he had finished, the features of Bindle, who had been relieved by
Ginger, were suffused with a grin so broad and good-humoured that it
contrasted strangely with the astonishment written on the faces of the
others.
"That's the story, gentlemen, and there's my bag," jerking his thumb in
the direction of the pantechnicon. "Four of 'em there are, I counted
'em carefully, an' every one a Charles Peace. You'd better be careful
as you let 'em out," he added. "I 'adn't time to search 'em. They
came so quick, like flies in summer."
The inspector breathed hard, Mr. Miller looked grave and concerned, the
plain-clothes men looked blank, Bindle looked cheerful, whilst the
foreman looked as a man looks only once in a lifetime. Deliberately he
approached the tail of the van, undid the lock, removed the bar, threw
open the doors, and stood quietly aside. For fully half a minute
nothing happened; then the portly form of Sergeant Wrannock emerged.
"Wrannock!" gasped the inspector from Lowestoft. The sergeant forgot
to salute his superior officer. He was humiliated. His collar was
torn, one eye was blackened, and his nose was swollen.
Closely following him came Sir Charles Custance and Mr. Greenhales, who
between them supported the inert form of Mr. Gandy, wheezing pitifully.
All were much battered. Sir Charles's face was covered with blood, Mr.
Greenhales had lost his wig and his false teeth, whilst Mr. Gandy had
lost the power to move.
"What in heaven's name is the meaning of this?" asked the inspector.
"It means," thundered Sir Charles, who was the first to find his voice,
"that we have been brutally and murderously assaulted by a band of
ruffians."
"That's me, and me only!" commented the foreman complacently. "I'm the
band, cockie, and don't you forget it."
"It means," said Sergeant Wrannock, "that having information that this
house was packed with firearms, I came to make investigation and----"
"Got caught, cockie," interrupted the foreman.
"Hold your tongue!" shouted Mr. Greenhales, in a hollow, toothless
voice, dancing with fury. "Hold your tongue! You shall suffer for
this."
At last, from the incoherent shoutings and reproaches in which the
words "Germans," "Spies," "Herr Mueller," were bandied back and forth,
Mr. Miller and the inspector pieced together the story of how four
patriots had been overcome by one foreman pantechnicon-man. The
inspector turned to Mr. Miller.
"As a matter of form, sir, and in the execution of my duty, I should be
glad to know if it is true that your house is full of arms and
ammunition?" he asked politely.
"Of arms, certainly, Inspector, most certainly," Mr. Miller replied.
"I am supposed to have the finest collection of firearms in the
country. Come and see them, or such as are unpacked."
And the inspector looked at Sergeant Wrannock, and the plain-clothes
constables looked away from him, and Sir Charles and Mr. Greenhales
looked irefully round for Bindle; but Bindle was nowhere to be seen.
"Funny none of 'em seem to see the joke!" he remarked to a clump of
rhododendrons half-way down the drive.