Complete works of peter.., p.467
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 467
He rose to his feet.
"You—pig!" he said to Missal. "Go, tell those fools to make an end of their nonsense. There is work to be done to-night, and we have no time to waste."
He seated himself once again, and proceeded to peruse a newspaper which lay on the table. Brandon, gazing straight in front of him, said nothing, but I knew that behind the vacant countenance his brain, was working rapidly, plotting, scheming to find some way out of death.
Jaffray turned to me.
"I'm sorry I brought you into this, Relph," he said. "I didn't see that it could possibly end this way... With me it's different—part of the job."
"Don't be a fool, Jaffray," I said. "I'd have been frantically angry if you'd left me out of to-night's do. It's all in the game, you know."
Jaffray spoke to Stahlhaube.
"Von Eisen," he said. "I'd advise you to think for a bit before you start on your execution stunts. This is England, you know, and they don't stand for this sort of thing over here. Take my tip and make the best terms that you can."
Stahlhaube grinned.
"I am obliged to you," he said, "for your kindly thoughts, which are, apparently, not entirely unconnected with your own safety. But I do not make terms, especially when there are no terms to be made. Shall I play into your hands, my police officer friend? No! There is so much accounting to be done. There is the little matter of Stevens, for instance."
"So you killed Stevens," said Jaffray.
Stahlhaube looked surprised. "But, of course," he said. "What else was there to do? Do you think that I have nothing better to do than to nurse your damned policeman? He was too curious. He desired to know too much, and so he was dealt with, in exactly the same way as I shall deal with you. Did you think that it was Brandon who removed this fool? Pah! He has not the sense to remove anyone who really matters; only frightened babies like Zweitt and the Italian, who tried to buy their safety from me, and who had not the courage to go through with the job in an efficient manner. And all the while Stahlhaube was laughing! There were men working on the outskirts of the Abbey—digging, making passages so that Stahlhaube could see what they were at; men coming down and staying at the Gat Inn, so that Stahlhaube may know that Brandon, the great Brandon, is preparing for his day of reckoning, and then Stahlhaube is to walk into a trap and be gassed with the Sour Milk which he has himself poisoned! Thus thinks the great, the clever pig-dog Brandon.
"Of fools you are the greatest. There are no brains amongst you, and you are much better off dead, for then you will not be able to do any further harm to yourselves."
He got to his feet and stamped angrily about the floor. Then he walked over to the passage entrance.
"Missal!" he yelled. "What are you doing, fool? Come here at once!"
He returned to the fireplace.
"The night is passing, and I have much to do," he said, addressing us generally. "To you, gentlemen, I intend to give the freedom of these vaults. All the remaining exits save one are blocked and useless. When we leave, this one also will be closed. How long the air supply down here will last I do not know, but you will observe that at the moment it is already becoming heavy. You may amuse yourselves by running about the passages until such time as you can run no longer. I think that is not an unpleasant form of death, and I am sorry that I cannot remain with you and watch it taking effect. As for you, my Brandon, you may thank your gods that I am in a hurry, otherwise I should have thought out some more lengthy ending to your life. However..."
He went on talking, but I was not listening. From somewhere in the place came a sound... something I remembered. I felt a chilliness creeping up my spine. Stahlhaube must have heard it, too, for he stopped talking, and his eyes moved to Brandon, who was sitting bolt upright, listening. I looked at the Onlooker.
Jaffray, standing next to me, touched me with his knee.
"Don't you remember, Relph?" he whispered. "In Salvatori's shop... the Chinese music!"
Then I remembered, as Stahlhaube moved towards the doorway.
CHAPTER XXVI
HE crossed the room with great strides.
"Missal!" he shouted. "Where are you, fool?"
No reply came from the darkness, but slowly the music became more distinct, and to our ears came the droning notes of some slow, soft tune, which held something ominous. Stahlhaube returned to the table, and stood with his back to it, staring at the blackness of the passage entrance.
Then, suddenly, he shrugged his shoulders.
"So!" he said. "This is the end! You remember that music, my Brandon. It is the music which marks the ending of their day. As it will mark the ending of ours."
He drew his cigarette-case from his pocket and lit a cigarette. For a moment I almost admired Stahlhaube.
The music stopped, and from the passage came the sound of the padding of footsteps passing along the earthen floor. Then, framed in the opening, stood a tall thin Chinaman. He was dressed in a long grey habit, something like a monk's gown, and round his neck was a piece of rope. He stood looking for a moment, and then turned and disappeared.
Stahlhaube smiled. "My surmise was correct," he said quietly and shrugged his shoulders once more.
Brandon's voice, hoarse with pent-up feeling, broke the silence.
"Why don't you do something?" he croaked. "Why don't you fight?"
"Silence, fool!" said Stahlhaube. "Will you tell me when to fight? There are some things which cannot be fought, and this is one of them. My fighting days are over!"
Footsteps approached once more, and through the passage doorway, with his characteristic waddle, dressed more extravagantly than I had yet seen him, his yellow jacket a bright splash of colour against the earthen walls, came Hop Fi. Behind him, four more figures in the grey gowns, and, behind them, framed in the doorway, a dozen yellow faces peered at us.
Two yards from Stahlhaube, Hop Fi stopped, and looked at the German. He was smiling, and, with his hands hidden in the voluminous sleeves of his jacket, he looked like some carved idol. His eyes travelled from Brandon to Stahlhaube and back again.
"And so it is written..." he said, softly.
Stahlhaube smiled and braced himself as a man braces for a plunge into icy water.
"Well, Tsuang Huang Tai," he said, in his deep voice, "The sun sets..."
"The sun sets," repeated Hop Pi, "and the bells ring in the Temple upon the Hill, and the brothers seek their cells. For so it was written... and also that they who walk towards the setting sun with treachery in their hearts shall return, and their half-brother, Death, shall walk behind them." He paused for a moment. "What say you, my brother?" he asked.
Stahlhaube lit another cigarette, and the hand that held the match was as steady as a rock.
"I say nothing," said he. "I have had my run. Stahlhaube does not excuse."
The man we knew as Hop Fi turned to Jaffray.
"Sir," he said, "I will explain to you as much of this business as it is meet that you should know. Justice walks in strange garbs, but it walks surely, and never tires. Years ago, to the monastery of the Setting Sun, which stands upon the hills in Tibet, came this man." (he indicated Brandon). "He proposed to our Master that his firm should sell to the world outside the liqueurs which the brothers made. We believed and trusted him, and we consented. Each year he, or this other man, came to the Monastery and rendered an account of their dealings.
"Many strange products are made in the Monastery—wines and strange liqueurs, drugs and scents. To whom they sold these things or whether the selling was for good or evil, we cared not.
"One brother had we whose cleverness has not been equalled by all the science of the world. This brother discovered a drug, a drug such as has never been known in the history of our time. We, not thinking of evil, told this Brandon, and from that day these two plotted and made their schemes to become possessed of our brother's formula, a secret which he guarded with his life, for to lose it meant death.
"Next year came this Stahlhaube. He stayed the night at a hut outside the monastery wall, and next morning, when the bells tolled, we found our brother dead upon the floor of his cell... dead by his own hand... for the formula had been stolen, and the man Stahlhaube was gone.
"Back to Milan he went, where with this Brandon he carried on his business. As thieves fall out, so did they fall out, and Brandon coveted the formula for himself. They could not move but our eyes saw them. They could not speak, but our ears heard them, for the sacred faith of China knows no country, and our people were everywhere. At last Brandon could wait no longer for the formula to be worked out and the spoils from our drug provided. One night, in Milan, he attacked this Stahlhaube and left him for dead, taking the formula and leaving for this country.
"Stahlhaube swore vengeance, and without his knowledge we gave him our help. Through the years we have set one against the other, helping each, hindering each, but with each help and hindrance bringing the day of justice nearer.
"Because you and your friends, in your own way and in your own place, stand for justice, we have helped you and have been glad to protect you against more dangers than you know.
"To-night is the end of the quest. To-night the blood of our dead brother shall cry out no longer. And the penance which has been upon us shall end. To-night the world shall be rid of these two, and their iniquities shall die with them.
"Go your ways in peace, for the air of this place is heavy, and there is much to be done."
Hop Fi, still smiling, stood waiting.
Jaffray spoke.
"I'm sorry, Hop Fi," he said. "But this business is entirely irregular, and can't happen. There are laws in this country, and if these people have broken them then there's a right way of doing things. I'm extremely obliged to you for your assistance, but we must take charge of these two."
Hop Fi still smiled.
"That, I am afraid, is impossible," he said. "I cannot, at the moment, discuss these things with you, but it is right that I should set your mind at ease."
He produced from his pocket a leathern wallet, which he handed to Jaffray.
The Onlooker looked over Jaffray's shoulder.
"That lets you out, Jaffray," he said. He turned to me and whispered... "diplomatic passports—clever old devil, Hop Fi. Get me?"
"Well, that's that," said Jaffray, "I'm finished."
Hop Fi motioned to us, and we prepared to depart, the Mandarin bowing gravely as we made our way across the floor to the passage. Here another Chinaman awaited us with an electric torch, and in silence—for we were all worn out with strain and fatigue—we stumbled along what seemed endless miles in the dark passages, until, in the distance, we saw, through a jagged hole in the wall, a light—the light of dawn.
"Gentlemen," said the Chinaman with the torch. "You will, in a moment, find yourselves outside the north wall of the Abbey. I beg of you, if you value your lives, not to cross the Abbey grounds, but to encircle it by the road, and so make your way back to Frimley. There you will find your friend, Mr. Varney, who was sent back earlier by my master's orders. He is in health. My salutations, gentlemen."
He disappeared into the blackness of the passage, and we saw his torch fade in the distance.
We climbed out of the hole, and, as he had stated, found ourselves outside the Abbey wall. The dawn was breaking and the first streak of sun cut the sky.
NO one thought to question the advice of Hop Fi's man, and we kept religiously to the road. We were all silent, and before my eyes was a picture, a mental picture of my last sight of Brandon and Stahlhaube, seen as I had crossed the vault on my way out. Brandon, his head sunk on his breast, sitting at the table, and Stahlhaube, his cigarette in his mouth, standing in front of the fireplace, bolt upright. Stahlhaube was game all right.
Twenty minutes later we entered Frimley High Street. The Onlooker, almost his old cheery self again, had already begun to whistle softly to himself. He linked his arm in mine.
"Say, Relph," he said. "I'm going back to the States soon. Sort of feel like a rest, you know. Want to come? I know a good job for a man like you. What do you say?"
"You bet, Onlooker," I said.
We were in sight of the Gat Inn, and the first sunshine was sparkling the windows when we stopped dead. The roar of an explosion shook the countryside. Back where Frimley Abbey had been there shot, almost to the sky, it seemed, a tongue of flame. Then the silence came again, to be broken by the opening of windows as a hundred heads looked out.
We stood looking back.
"Say, those Chinks are pretty thorough, ain't they?" said the Onlooker. "Blown the whole bag of tricks sky high. You'll have some job. Jaffray, sorting out the mess. Well, it's all in the day's work, and I'm for breakfast. I'm going to drink my own health in coffee, coupled with that of Hop Fi."
We walked on together, leaving the others still looking back. The sun was coming up rapidly, and, in some way, the explosion seemed to have cleared the air of all the trouble and danger that had so lately existed.
A great feeling of relief came over me, and, as the sunshine flooded the old cobbled street, I saw Marion Varney at the door of the Gat Inn, smiling, and I knew that my good turn to Henri Zweitt had not been in vain.
Other Novels
Ladies Won't Wait
(COCKTAILS AND THE KILLER)
I. — JANEY
EVEN to-day I don't know very much about her. Which is a pity. I suppose if I knew her story I shouldn't spend so much time wondering about it. Somebody or other said that unsatisfied curiosity fed upon itself, and there's nothing that can supply food for thought like a mysterious woman who appears from nowhere, mixes herself up in one's life for a little while and then goes out of it. Especially if she happens to be beautiful.
In my own rather odd profession one is inclined to speculate a great deal about women. In terms of their peculiar effect upon people, and I say peculiar because no two men are affected in exactly the same way by women. If they were, life would be a great deal easier.
I suppose, really, Theodora St. Philippe must have been some sort of desperate idealist. She must have been—even if her ideals were a bit cock-eyed. Besides beauty, and that indefinable attraction which all women want to possess and so few do, she must have had brains and intelligence and a helluva lot of guts. I ought to have known from the first time I saw her that she was a rather special sort of person. I ought to have known. If I didn't it was because I was much too busy looking at her and wondering just who and what she was; when and how she'd acquired that strange quality of allure, that extraordinary grace....
Anyhow... she's had it and that's that. And in my profession it doesn't do too much good to spend your off-times in wondering about women who've had it. Especially those who've won it in the same way as you might easily win it yourself. One of these days!
I came away from the Pré-Catalan about five o'clock. I drove into the Champs Elysées, turned off and parked the car in the Rue Royale not far from Maxims. I had a drink in Maxims. I didn't want it, but I had it. It was so hot you could hardly breathe. July, if it is hot, is not the sort of month you'd pick to be in Paris.
When I came out I began to walk down the Rue Royale, and she was about ten paces in front of me. I tell you she was something! And because I was undecided in my mind and wasn't quite certain at that particular moment—I had just a few minutes to spare before my appointment with Olly—as to where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do, I just trailed along behind her, admiring the way she put her feet on the ground and that just too elegant sway with which she walked.
I thought she was marvellous. She turned into the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré, and when I went round the corner after her I jerked my mind back to realities and thought it was about time I went home. I suppose I forgot Olly for the time being, which was strange, because I'd had Olly in the back of my head for the last two hours. If it hadn't been for my goddam sex curiosity maybe I'd have been back minutes before. Anyway, I started to walk, thinking about the woman. I crossed the Faubourg; turned into a side street. Then, a few minutes afterwards, I saw it. A beret of a peculiar shade of blue lying in the gutter, looking just as if it had been run over, which funnily enough it had been, and with the oil stain on the side.
I thought: That's Olly's beret. I didn't like it. I went round the corner and there was the flic with his note-book out, and two or three people talking to him all at once—talking rapidly and rather vehemently, which was quite unnecessary since nobody seemed to know anything at all about it.
It was Olly all right. I spoke to the flic. As far as he could ascertain, Olly, who by the way was a very tough Frenchman of nearly sixty, had been leaning up against the wall, smoking a cigarette and doing nothing in particular. The next time the flic passed, which was some five minutes later, Olly was lying in the gutter in the quiet street. He was dead... a hit and run driver, apparently. They had taken the body away.
I thought it was a bit hard that Olly, with his experiences in the war, his toughness, his astuteness and the courage he brought to life, should finish like that. I talked to the flic for a few minutes and I went off.
I started to walk round the streets, thinking about Olly, wondering. Then I went back to Maxims and had a drink. I drank a brandy cocktail and leaned up against the bar with my mind running around the blue beret with the oil stain on it lying in the gutter, and looking in some strange way almost animate, rather as if it wanted to get up and talk to me. I ordered another brandy cocktail, paid for it and didn't drink it.
I went back and found the beret was still there. I picked it up. I don't know why I wanted to do that, but I did it. Then I started to meander round the streets. I was walking more or less in a circle, which was what I wanted to do. After a while I thought I had as much chance of seeing what I wanted to as finding a needle in a haystack, and just as I came to this conclusion I saw the needle!
