Complete works of peter.., p.441
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 441
He turned to the door, and, passing Kenkins, who had drawn back flat against the cliff wall, dashed up the stairs and up the road towards Sepach Farm.
The whole thing was clear in his mind. Shortly after midnight the torpedo flotilla would come into the Channel. Grant understood now what Rothenstarmer had meant by the newspaper cutting. They were going to use the ray on the flotilla!
He reached the farm gate, pushed it open, crossed the courtyard, and stepped from the door into the farm. Hardly across the threshold, he stopped with a jerk. The hall of Sepach Farm was lit up by a guttering candle in an old bottle. Seated round the place were a dozen men, and, facing him, an automatic pistol in his hand, stood Rothenstarmer!
Rothenstarmer grinned cynically.
"Pleased to see you, Mr. Grant," he said. "We're collecting people like you. I shall have an opportunity of paying off one or two little scores I have against you. Do you remember that little incident in Vienna in 1921?"
Grant smiled. "I made you laugh the other side of your face then, Rothenstarmer. How long did you get—ten years, wasn't it? And you escaped. I'll see you get taken better care of next time."
The smile faded from Rothenstarmer's face.
"There isn't going to be any next time,'" he snarled. "I'm going to finish you to-night, Grant. We'll have no more of your meddling. Take him away!"
Two of the men seized Grant, and led him to the barn in the courtyard. As his eyes fell on the recumbent figure of O'Farrel his hopes fell to the ground. There was no chance of help.
CHAPTER XXI
KENKINS, standing at the top of the steps by the Turkish Café, considered whether it would be best for him to follow Grant to Sepach Farm, but after a moment he dismissed this thought from his mind.
It now seemed obvious, by the snatches of conversation which he had heard, between Grant and the woman, that, at any rate, she was definitely implicated in the stealing of the ray. He, therefore, set off quickly for the car with the intention of returning immediately to Stranover and notifying Peabody of what he had overheard.
Strangely enough, at this very moment, Peabody was looking for Kenkins!
Like Kenkins, Peabody had been unable to sleep. Lying on his back, gazing at the ceiling, he had gone over the events of the last forty-eight hours, and from the mass of conflicting points be had deduced one definite fact. These three people, Steitlin and Irietoff and the other man who had been killed at Sepach Farm, were connected in some way by the Q-ray. Peabody had been so distressed at meeting his wife that he had, in the excitement which had followed, almost forgotten that the ray was probably the cause of all the trouble. Directly Irma had appeared on the scene it had taken second place. It seemed obvious to him that his wife had either given or sold his secret to someone for some reasons best known to herself, and that the result of this had been the murders at the farm. But even if this were so, what was she doing in the neighbourhood? Why was she living at the mysterious Turkish Café? It occurred, quite suddenly, to Peabody that he had never thoroughly searched Sepach Farm—even the logical Kenkins had not thought of that. Peabody remembered that he had only looked into the one downstairs room, and had searched only the two rooms in which he had found the bodies. Further along the passage on the first floor at the farm was another room on the right, and on the left he remembered seeing an odd sort of loft reached by a wide step-ladder leading from the passage. It was now obvious to him that it was necessary that the place should be thoroughly searched, and if this were to be done the search should certainly take place before the meeting at midnight.
This idea took hold of Peabody's brain so strongly that he got up from the bed on which he had lain fully dressed, and walked across the hotel passage to Kenkins' room, expecting to find that worthy sound asleep; he was amazed to find Kenkins' room empty. The bed had certainly been slept on, for there was the imprint of Kenkins' large body, but inquiries downstairs soon elicited the fact that Kenkins had taken the car and gone. Standing somewhat undecided in the hotel lounge, Peabody came to the conclusion that Kenkins, thinking along the same lines as himself, had either gone back to carry out a further search at the farm, or had gone to the Turkish Café, where his natural curiosity might easily lead him. In any event, Peabody made up his mind that he would return to the farm; if he found Kenkins there, all well and good; if not, he could wait until midnight. He made up his mind to walk across the moorland, and a glance at his watch showed him that it was a quarter to ten.
He walked briskly. For once, the moorland seemed quite attractive. There was no sign of rain, and the moon, shining brightly, caused the trees and gorse to cast long shadows over the greensward. Striding along, Peabody wondered what the end would be. It was obvious to him now that those in authority in London must be aware of the happenings at the farm, and that, however much the matter had been kept out of the hands of the local police, there must be an accounting soon, and it was Irma's position in this accounting that troubled Peabody.
The ray had become to him a thing of secondary importance, and he now realised and admitted to himself quite honestly that his main idea had been the protection of Irma.
But, even supposing that she were guiltless of any hand in, or any connection with, the murders, it seemed to Peabody that his own position was hopeless. He realised now, in his rather conventional way, that he still loved Irma, but that all his vague ideas that he might one day find her and that they might take up the threads of their lives together again, were simply hopeless ideas. It seemed definite to Peabody that she had married him simply to obtain the secret of the ray, for he had discussed it with her in the old days in Russia before he brought her to England, and he knew that, with the shadow of this inexcusable theft between them, this plot, in which their marriage had been, as far as she was concerned, merely a move in the game, would stand between them forever like an ominous shadow. A great bitterness came over Peabody, and for once he felt almost a desire for revenge. To-night, when he saw Irma for the last time, he made up his mind that he would tell her what he thought of her, and then he would dismiss her forever from his mind. But even as he thought this he knew it was impossible. He would never be able to forget her.
Standing on a rising slope of the moorland, Peabody looked down to where the gorse-covered grass led up to the tool-shed, which he could see plainly in the moonlight, in which he and Kenkins had been held prisoners. Beyond it he could discern Sepach Farm, looking more ghostly than ever in the moonlight. He looked at his watch. It was a quarter past ten, and he made up his mind that he must hurry.
At the bottom of the little hill was a clump of trees. As Peabody entered the shadows, he thought for a moment that he saw a movement, but he dismissed this from his mind as being due to imagination. He was nearing the other side of the little wood, when, as he passed a tree, a foot shot out and neatly tripped him.
Peabody endeavoured to regain his feet, but before he could do so an unseen hand struck him a blow on the back of the head which half-stunned him. Out of the darkness came other hands, and in a few moments he was being half-dragged, half-led across the country towards the farm.
He stumbled along, trying to clear his brain and think clearly. He was hardly surprised. Nothing which might happen in this vicinity could surprise him any more.
When the farm was reached, he was led across the courtyard where he could see the shapes of men standing about in the darkness. The door of the barn in the corner was opened and, by the light of the oil lamp which a foreign-looking man held within, he saw the figures of O'Farrel and Grant. Both were bound.
Peabody realised that the mystery of Sepach Farm was not over. A new phase had begun.
CHAPTER XXII
PEABODY was unceremoniously pushed into the corner in which the others sat. O'Farrel, his back against the wall, blinked vaguely, but Grant, the man in plus-fours, gave Peabody an odd smile.
"Well, Peabody," he said, "so they've got you, too. They're not a very nice looking lot, are they?"
Peabody looked at the other men in the barn. There were seven of them. They were the most villainous set of "toughs" that he had ever seen, he thought; men to whom human life would mean nothing at all.
"That damn woman's responsible for this; of that, I'm certain," continued Grant. "The information she gave me about the ray was simply to get me to go to the farm so that I might fall into the hands of this gang...."
Peabody's brain cleared. "The ray," he said. "The Q-ray." He turned to Grant. "So you think the woman is in league with these people?" he said.
Grant grinned. "I don't see what else l can think," he said. "I don't know who this woman is, but she told me she had taken this Turkish Café in order to wait for Steitlin, the Russian, the man who was killed. She told me that the Q-ray was here in the farm, and I, like a fool, came up to examine it. Well, I think to-night will be the end of us all. I wouldn't have minded so much, but they got O'Farrel first. I'd sent him over to Salthaven to get through to London. Still, if he had got there, it would have been too late to stop this gang getting down here; but the people in London might, at least, have sent help of some sort. As it is, we're cut off here; nobody knows we're here, and, if I'm not very much mistaken, the first unofficial experiment with the Q-ray will be made to-night. We shall have the satisfaction of knowing that it will be made, and possibly, a British torpedo flotilla destroyed by it whilst we sit here helpless. I expect you wish you'd rather taken my advice, and kept out of this business, don't you?" continued the man in plus-fours.
Peabody shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "You see," he continued wearily, "I'm the inventor of the ray. My whole life, and something which was dearer to me than life, has been bound up in that ray. I don't think I mind very much now what they do with me."
Grant looked at him. "My God!" he said. "Now I know why you were so interested."
O'Farrel grinned weakly at Peabody. "We're in for it this time, old bean," he said, "right up to the neck. By Jove! I'd like to find the fellow who hit me on the head. Hallo! Something's going to happen. Here's Little Lord Fauntleroy again."
Peabody looked up.
The door of the barn opened, and Rothenstarmer appeared. He walked over to where the captives sat, and regarded them cynically.
"Well, my friends," he said, "this is a great evening—one of the best in my life. Rejoice with me. Soon, all sorts of things will happen at Sepach Farm, and I'm afraid that you three gentlemen will not have the pleasure of seeing to-morrow's sun."
The smile faded from his face and he spat viciously. "You, Grant have crossed my path before; on several occasions you've had the satisfaction of knowing that you've thwarted the plans of our great International; the International which will one day rule the world. As for you two other fools, I don't know who or what you are, except that you appear to be allied to him," he said, pointing to Grant. "But to-night we shall be rid of the lot of you, and we shall have shown the world that the Thirteenth International is not to be trifled with."
He turned to one of the men who sat round him. "Bring in Irietoff," he said in Russian.
Two men appeared with automatic pistols in their hands, and between them walked Irietoff. He was still smiling, and he looked at Rothenstarmer with amused contempt.
Rothenstarmer kicked him viciously. "Laugh while you can, my friend," he said. "You will not laugh for long. The time of our revenge is here. You will not laugh in a little while."
"A rather late revenge, though," said Irietoff, in English. "You may kill me, Rothenstarmer, but at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that, first, I killed Steitlin."
Rothenstarmer stepped forward, and hit the young Russian across the mouth. Irietoff moved not an inch, and still smiled, although a thin stream of blood ran from his cut lip down his chin.
"Your time will come, Rothenstarmer," he said. "The forces of order all over the world are closing in on you and your childish gang of murderers. You've not long to go, and if I've done anything to help bring your foul activities to an end my life is well given."
At a signal from Rothenstarmer the two guards pushed Irietoff into the corner with the others.
"Untie their hands," said Rothenstarmer. "They cannot possibly escape now."
Rothenstarmer stood regarding them evilly, his lips twitching. Suddenly, outside in the courtyard, was a sound of voices; then the clear tones of a woman's voice came through the open door. A man appeared with another lamp, and into the barn came the woman—Irma. Involuntarily Peabody started forward, but O'Farrel gripped his wrist. The woman walked slowly and imperiously across the barn. Rothenstarmer took off his cap. The other men shuffled forward. She was apparently a person of importance.
She stopped, facing the four captives.
"Well, my friends," she said, "you've endeavoured to pit yourselves against the Thirteenth International, and you've lost. Poor fools!"
Rothenstarmer stepped to her side. He pointed to Grant. "This is the Secret Service man Grant," he said, "the man who foiled us in Vienna, madame. The others I don't know, do you?"
Her eyes wandered over the faces before her. Then they stopped, and looked straight into Peabody's. For a moment he thought he detected a softening in their depths, then knew how wrong he was when he saw the sneer come over the beautiful features. She turned to Rothenstarmer.
"Rothenstarmer," she said, "this fool is my English husband; Captain Peabody, the inventor of the Q-ray, the man from whom I stole the formula. This is an opportune meeting."
Rothenstarmer nodded. "Madame Steitlin," he said, "I have had no opportunity before to offer to you my sympathy with regard to your husband's death, but here"—he pointed to Irietoff—"is the man who shot him. He died for your cause. That is only one death, but to-night these four shall die, and, as the Q-ray leaps across the sea dealing death and destruction to this British fleet which passes to-night, Steitlin's death will be avenged. We shall give him a worthy funeral pyre of dead men, willed by the ray which you and he stole for our cause."
She nodded. Then she raised her eyes and they swept, once more, over the faces of the captives. Again Peabody thought that they lingered for a moment as they looked into his.
"You devil," he said thickly. "I trusted you... you fiend!"
She laughed. The sound cut Peabody like a lash.
"My poor, deluded friend," she murmured. "One cannot have omelettes without breaking eggs. You, unfortunately for yourself, and these people with you, are the eggs. It is necessary that you shall be broken." She shrugged.
"You are a fool," she said. "I am not even sorry for you!"
CHAPTER XXIII
PEABODY gazed straight before him, his face distorted with pain. The realisation that this woman could be so double-faced had shattered every ideal which he had ever possessed. Then a terrible wave of anger surged over him. His eyes blazed, and he was about to speak when O'Farrel's hand gripped his wrist once more.
"Don't be a fool, Peabody; she's bluffing," murmured O'Farrel, and then stopped speaking as another commotion in the courtyard caused the crowd within the barn to look towards the door. Into the barn strolled a tall broad-shouldered man, heavily bearded and with a face, thin-lipped and cruel, but powerful. He looked round the barn until his eyes rested on Rothenstarmer, who stepped forward.
"I'm Galtzakoff," he said in a tone of authority, "Chief Commissar of the Thirteenth International. Are you Rothenstarmer?"
Rothenstarmer nodded, and took from Galtzakoff's hand a leather case which he examined carefully. This, apparently, was Galtzakoff's identification, and in a minute Rothenstarmer handed it back subserviently. The newcomer looked carefully at the captives, then back to Rothenstarmer. A sneer played over his thin lips.
"You're a poor fool, Rothenstarmer," he said. "It seems that I arrived at an opportune moment. It seems that this woman, this aristocrat, has already succeeded in deluding you as to her real motives. But for the fact that I have travelled post-haste after Steitlin in order to prevent his death, which, unluckily, I was not able to do, our plan might yet have failed."
Rothenstarmer, amazed, spread his hands. "How was I to know?" he said. "Everyone thought this woman was with us, that she was Steitlin's wife."
Galtzakoff laughed. "That was a little fiction," he said, "which emanated from this Irietoff, her brother."
He noticed Peabody start. "You're surprised, my friend, the inventor," he said, walking over to where Peabody stood, and looking at him with curiosity. "So you're the inventor of the Q-ray, the man whose work has made it possible for us to deal a master-stroke at this fleet of yours, this fleet which your ray, under our direction, will shortly wipe out." He smiled cynically. "Has she told you, my friend, how we knew that the mechanism for working the ray was installed at Sepach Farm? It's an amusing story.
"Years ago, during the Revolution, this woman, your wife, Irietoff's sister, escaped to north Russia. You met her and married her, but her brother was a prisoner in Moscow. You came to England, and our agents informed us that your invention was being considered by your British War Office. Oh! They were very clever, this War Office of yours. In order that no one should learn the secret of the ray, they installed the apparatus in the loft of this disused and deserted Sepach Farm. Here they were able to carry out their experiments without fear of interruption. Then, when the time was ripe, Comrade Steitlin came to England. Did you know that, whilst you were spending your peaceful honeymoon at Stranover one day, while you were out, Steitlin called at your hotel? He saw your wife. He told her that unless she obtained the formula of the ray from you, the formula by which the mechanism is set working, her brother in Moscow would die, and not a particularly nice death either," continued Galtzakoff.
"Our plan succeeded. She got from you the formula, but she refused to give it to Steitlin until she was assured of her brother's safety. Steitlin took her back with him to Moscow, in order that she should know that her brother was released, and, in order to facilitate their journey, she was described as Madame Steitlin. We kept our word. Irietoff, this Irietoff," continued Galtzakoff, pointing to the young Russian, "was released, and left Russia; and then our clever Steitlin informed the lady that she was a prisoner. She had been foolish enough to think we should let her go, too. Unfortunately, she escaped, and we heard no more of her, but years afterwards our agents in this country informed us that she had taken the Turkish Café on the cliff road near Sepach Farm. Unluckily this news reached me after Steitlin had left for England, for I guessed that she was waiting for him to return to this country, and that she would stop at nothing to prevent Steitlin using the ray.
