Complete works of peter.., p.487
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 487
I asked: "What the hell do you mean?"
He said: "I arrived there about an hour and a half ago. I got over the wire fence at the back. I wandered about the undergrowth—you know, the tangled bushes in the coppice that surrounds the house. I stumbled across something. What do you think it was? It was a land line. I followed it, and then inside the wood I found it. Hidden in some thick bushes was a detonator set—an electric plunger set used to detonate mines. I followed it right the way to the house. It is run underneath a door at the back. You see, my friend, your idea was right..."
I said: "I see. What she intends to do is to make the exchange; then something happens which keeps Rockie and his sister in the house. Then she gets out and somebody blows the house up. Very nice."
"That is the idea," he said. "But of course it is not going to happen."
"No," I replied. "Definitely not."
He went on: "I think it might be necessary to have a little assistance. I have asked Velin to be standing by with eight or nine selected men from his Bureau at the cross-roads a half a mile from the house. I did not tell him what for. I told him just to stay there until he heard from one of us."
I said: "Good. Wait for me a moment, and then we will go."
I went quickly up to my room; put my Luger in my pocket. Then I rejoined Salvatini in the hall.
I said: "Come on, Mario. This is going to be an interesting night."
When we arrived at the road that ran past the house at Lozalle, we left the car in the shadow of a hedge; walked quietly along the road; got over the wire fence; took a little pathway that skirted the wood. We walked, Salvatini leading the way, softly through the undergrowth. Suddenly he put his hand on my shoulder. He said: "Look..."
I strained my eyes through the darkness. Then I saw it. Behind a tree which concealed it from the house was the plunger set that Salvatini had told me about, and beside it was the boy who had opened the door to me at the house when I had called to see Sabina. He was sitting on the ground, still wearing his baize apron. He had something clasped in his left hand. I crept a little nearer. I saw it was a watch.
Salvatini drew alongside the boy. He nudged me. In his right hand I saw the gleam of his long stiletto. I whispered: "No. We'll do it this way." I moved quickly forward. I hit the house- boy under the jaw. He went down like a log. We trussed him up, gagged him with the end of his own baize apron.
I said: "He'll be safe this way, and he might have something to tell us afterwards."
We retraced our steps. When we got back to the wire fence Salvatini said: "I have had an amusing time here to-night. I have been in the house. There is a musicians' gallery over the back room. I have been in that. I got in through a side door. There was nobody about. I went up the stairs."
I asked: "What did you see, Mario?"
He said: "Sitting in the room by herself, with a bottle of wine and some needlework which she was doing with great concentration, was Sabina. She's quite nice-looking, you know, and she was supremely dressed. She was wearing a lovely evening frock—black velvet—and a diamond necklace." He grinned at me in the darkness. "If I were not so frightened of her I would have wanted to make love to her."
I said: "You'd be better off with a snake, Mario."
"Come with me," he said. "But for God's sake be quiet."
I looked at my watch. It was five minutes to eleven. I followed Salvatini as he made his way carefully through the coppice, keeping in the shadows as we came to the lawn at the back of the house. We reached the side door. He opened it. Inside, there was complete and utter darkness. We stood listening. We could hear nothing.
Salvatini motioned me to follow him. We went along a short passageway, turned to the left and began to climb a flight of circular stairs. At the top we walked a little way in the darkness; then inch by inch Salvatini opened a door. We could see light on the other side. Then he slipped through the door and I followed him. We stood in the musicians' gallery above the main room, with our backs pressed to the wall. We waited for a few moments; then I looked.
Below, sitting round the table in the centre of the floor, were Riffenbach, Auerstein, Rockie and his sister Valerie. Standing up, leaning against the wall opposite them, was Sabina. In her hand she held a glass of champagne.
Then she spoke. She said: "Ladies and gentlemen, to-night is an auspicious occasion which we should all celebrate. Mr. Rockhurst has joined his sister, and Mr. Kurt Riffenbach—brother of my one-time colleague—has kept his word and produced for us Professor Auerstein. Let us drink each other's health."
She drank some champagne. Then I saw that the four at the table also had glasses. Rockie took a drink—he would, anyway. The others made no move towards the glasses on the table.
Sabina went on: "This has been a very difficult and rather complicated operation, but it was made even more complicated by the interference of a gentleman named Kells. It was quite obvious to me that the late Mr. Kells did not trust me." She smiled a little grimly. "He was a most distrustful person and I suppose he had the idea in his head that it would not be consistent with my character for me to allow Mr. Rockhurst to go away in safety after Professor Auerstein was in my hands.
"And, ladies and gentlemen, I thought exactly the same about him. If Rockhurst was in his hands I did not think that Mr. Kells would be content to allow me to go quietly away with Professor Auerstein. Therefore, what could I do? My motto has always been all or nothing, and as on this occasion, I could not get all, then nobody will have anything."
Her voice changed. Her tone was grim, menacing. She went on: "I drink your health, ladies and gentlemen, because we are all about to die. I consider this the best way to carry out my assignment. This house is mined. Professor Auerstein might be of use to my country if he were alive. He will still serve a useful purpose if he is dead because if he cannot work for us he can work for nobody. Mr. Rockhurst, too, will join us, and his stupid sister; Mr. Kurt Riffenbach must also pay the price of his brother's perfidy—this German who tried to sell me out. And because it is necessary, I shall go with you. I shall join you, my friends, in this funeral pyre."
She looked at her wrist-watch. "You see I have dressed for this occasion. The time is now fourteen minutes past eleven. Within the next ten seconds this house and all of us will be blown to smithereens."
She leaned against the wall, completely relaxed. The four people sat motionless round the table.
I took the Luger out of my pocket, vaulted over the edge of the balcony; arrived in a heap on the floor.
Rockie said: "My God... Kells...!"
I got up. I showed her the gun.
I said: "Sabina, you're a little unfortunate. The gentleman who was going to detonate your mine is trussed up like a fowl. He is not going to do anything except talk when I make him talk."
She stood leaning against the wall, her eyes glittering. Then she said something to me—not very pleasant.
Salvatini arrived through the main doorway.
I said: "Mario, tie this lady up—and anybody else you find in the house. Tie her to one of those chairs. Then you'd better go out and find Velin. You can hand her over to him for to-night. And the house-boy we left in the coppice."
I went on: "Ladies and gentlemen, this little adventure is over. Rockie, take your sister. Go out the back way. You'll find a car on the road. Get in it and stay there until we join you."
He said: "O.K., Mike. I can't tell you how glad I am to see you again."
I said: "I bet. We'll talk about that later."
Salvatini moved over to Sabina. He said: "Will you come and sit down, Madame, or would you like me to stick this knife into you?" He showed her the knife.
She called him a foul name.
He said: "I've been called worse things than that in my life, but not by a lady so beautifully dressed as you." He seized her by the arm, pushed her—in spite of her struggles—into a high- backed chair. She sat there like a deflated balloon. Salvatini tied her into the chair with bell hangings and curtain cords.
I went over. I said to her: "You know, Sabina, you are without dignity. I expect you are very surprised to see me, aren't you? The bits of humanity you found outside after the car explosion were the remains of the gentleman you employed to blow me up."
She said nothing. Her face was dead white, her eyes venomous, looking straight in front of her.
Kurt Riffenbach, who had watched the scene calmly, saying nothing, got up. He said: "I congratulate you, Mr. Kells. This is a fitting denouement to this great adventure."
I said to Rockhurst: "Get out of here, and take Valerie with you. Mario will show you where the car is. Riffenbach, bring the Professor and come with me."
Salvatini, Rockie and his sister went out by the back door.
I said to Sabina: "Au revoir, Sabina, I expect we'll meet again. It is a great pleasure knowing you."
Followed by Riffenbach and Auerstein I went through the hall. There was no one in the rooms leading off it. Quite obviously, Sabina had arranged her finale carefully; had cleared the house first. We went down the steps into the night air.
I walked round the house, through the coppice. I said to Riffenbach: "What she said was true. She was prepared to sacrifice herself to make a certainty of Auerstein and Rockhurst. Look."
In front of us was the plunger set. Riffenbach looked at it. Then he took out his cigarette case and lighted a cigarette.
He said: "She was a very clever woman. She had ideals. She believed in what she was doing. She was prepared to kill herself." He shrugged his shoulders. "That pleases me very much. But she also killed my brother. Let her have her funeral pyre... !"
He jumped forward and, before I could move, pressed down the plunger of the detonator set. There was a second's pause. Then the manor house at Lozalle-le-Pont went up in the air with a reverberating crash. Riffenbach, Auerstein and I were thrown on our faces. When I sat up nothing remained of the place except one broken wall and a cloud of fine dust.
I looked at Riffenbach. He was sitting up, leaning against a tree, smiling. I shrugged my shoulders.
After all, it seemed to me the best ending.
XI. — VALERIE
I STOPPED the car in Bruton Street; walked up the little lane; opened the side door and went into the shop of the late Yvette Cambeau. A thin film of dust was over everything. The place looked strange and deserted. I wondered if ghosts would walk there.
I went into the back room, pulled back the carpet from the fireplace; examined it. The tile in front of the fireplace was easy to remove. I took it out. Underneath, in a cavity actually below the grate, was an oilskin package. I opened it. Inside, was the twenty thousand pounds in fivers. I grinned to myself.
So Sabina had told me the truth. Because she thought I would never know it was the truth; that I'd be dead within a few minutes of her telling it, she hadn't bothered about lying. I replaced the tile and the carpet; picked up the oilskin package. I went out, got into my car and drove home, the way I had come.
* * *
At four o'clock the telephone rang. It was Rockie.
He said: "Are you coming down here, Michael?"
I asked: "Why should I?"
He said: "My sister wants to talk to you. She thinks she owes you a lot of explanation."
"I never listen to women's explanations," I replied. "They're usually very difficult and rather untrue."
He said: "Well, you'd better speak to her."
She came on the line. She said: "I wish you'd come down here, Mr. Kells. I want to see you... really!"
I said: "I was coming down in any event. I have found some money that belongs to you—the twenty thousand pounds you gave Sabina."
"I was very stupid, wasn't I?" she said. "I'd much better have saved my money and talked to you."
I said: "Maybe. But women are strange things, you know."
"So I've heard," she said. "I particularly want you to come down, Mr. Kells. Will you come to dinner?"
"With pleasure. But why do you want me to come, particularly?" I asked.
She said: "I'd like to show you just how strange women can be."
The Curiosity Of Etienne Macgregor
(THE SWEETHEART OF THE RAZORS)
I. — THE AFFAIR OF MRS. LOTUS LEAF
As published in The Age , Melbourne, Australia, 14 April 1928
IN spite of the mist, which, approaching from the direction of the palace, was slowly enveloping The Green Park in a greeny-grey cloud, and in spite of the drizzling rain, the face of the Mr. Etienne MacGregor bore that cherubic and philosophic expression which had so often impressed people with the mistaken idea that he had nothing to worry about. He sat on a seat immediately facing the band-stand. The park was deserted, except for one or two pedestrians, who, under the shelter of umbrellas and rain-coats, hurried to catch their last trains. The fact that the seat was rapidly assuming an uncomfortable dampness was increasingly borne upon Mr. MacGregor as each minute passed. But he sat there with a faint smile upon his round countenance, looking at the band-stand as if concentration upon that structure would in some mysterious manner solve his difficulty.
Things were not well with Mr. MacGregor. There was not the slightest doubt about that. If one had been able to see beneath his tightly-buttoned rain coat one would have been aware of the fact that his clothes were well cut and well kept, but an investigation of his well-polished shoes would have informed the close observer that the sole of the right shoe was becoming less on speaking terms with the upper at every moment.
Not that he minded being hard up. He had been hard up for most of his 28 years, but there had always been methods of procuring money at difficult moments. At least there had been one method—his uncle. But the letter which reposed in his breast pocket had even nullified that source of income.
He drew it out from his pocket and read it for the tenth time, as if one more perusal might help in the solution of the difficulty. The letter read:—
142 Lincoln's Inn Fields, W.C.
Dear Mr. MacGregor,—
With reference to your application for a further loan from your uncle, we regret to inform you that this is impossible, owing to the regrettable fact that he died last Tuesday.
We have pleasure in informing you that you are his sole heir, and under his will you inherit his fortune of about £25,000, but under certain conditions. These conditions are that you supply us with the answers to thirteen questions.
Those questions will be given to you singly, and the answer must be brought by you to this office within one week from the time you receive the question.
In the event of your not answering a question within the time stated, the whole of your inheritance passes to the son of your uncle's partner—Mr. Suan Chi Leaf.
In the meantime, our instructions are to render you no financial assistance whatsoever, as your uncle was of the opinion that this method of leaving you his money would give you some chance of satisfying what he describes as your "insatiable curiosity," and that if you succeed in answering the thirteen questions and remain alive he thought that you would have more than earned the money.
The first question to which we must request your answer within seven days is:—
Who is Mrs. Lotus Leaf?
We are, dear sir,
Your obedient servants,
RUDDER, FOAL and RUDDER, Solicitors.
MacGregor replaced the letter in his pocket and ruminated upon the hardness of the world, and more especially upon his old curmudgeon of an uncle. How could he answer questions of this description? The bit at the end, too, about remaining alive did not sound too hopeful. He realised that there had been but little love lost between himself and his uncle, and probably the old boy had taken more than usual care to ensure that the questions should be practically unanswerable. MacGregor was so engrossed with the proposition that he failed to observe the odd-looking individual who had seated himself upon the end of the seat, and who was regarding MacGregor with more than usual interest.
Etienne got up from the damp seat and commenced to walk in the direction of Piccadilly. So did the odd-looking stranger. As they approached the park gates the seedy individual came close to MacGregor and touched his arm.
"Excuse me, sir," he said in a wheezy voice, "but I think that you are in a little difficulty—a difficulty in which my assistance might be useful. My name is Gubbs."
Etienne regarded the stranger for a moment, reflecting that his appearance certainly was not prepossessing.
"Well, Mr. Gubbs," he said, after the scrutiny, "and may I ask how you intend to help me?"
"Well, Mr. MacGregor," said the man, wheezing more than ever. "You want to find Mrs. Lotus Leaf, don't you? And I can tell you just where you will find her."
"Now, look here," said MacGregor, stopping suddenly; "look here, friend Gubbs. How do you know that I want to find Mrs. Lotus Leaf?"
The man smiled rather sadly. "It's my business—knowing things, sir," he said. "You see I used to be one of your uncle's head clerks in China, until I was dismissed. I know the conditions under which you will, or will not, inherit the money."
MacGregor thought hard for a moment. When he looked up his smile was more cherubic than ever.
"What do you expect to get out of this, Mr. Gubbs," he asked.
Gubbs looked pained. "I don't want anything, sir," he said, "nothing at all. I thought I'd like to do something for my old master's heir, that's all."
"I see," said MacGregor, quietly. "Just doing it out of kindness, er, friend Gubbs? Well, that being so, just where is Mrs. Lotus Leaf?"
Gubbs smiled. "You'll find her at the Three Leaves Club; in Slater-street, Limehouse, Mr. MacGregor. But if you want to see her you'd better go down right away. She's leaving for Paris tomorrow, but if you go down there at once you'll find her all right. I'll put you on the right bus. I'm walking down Piccadilly myself."
In vain did Mr. MacGregor point out to the persistent Gubbs that he knew the Limehouse bus routes quite well, for that worthy insisted on accompanying the curious Etienne, and it was only when he was safely ensconced on the front seat of a Limehouse bus that Mr. Gubbs, with a flourish of his dilapidated hat, faded away.
