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diff --git a/2013-0.txt b/2013-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b12bf8a --- /dev/null +++ b/2013-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11245 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Pit-Prop Syndicate, by Freeman Wills Crofts + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Pit-Prop Syndicate + +Author: Freeman Wills Crofts + +Release Date: December, 1999 [eBook #2013] +[Most recently updated: October 14, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIT-PROP SYNDICATE *** + + + + +The Pit-Prop Syndicate + +By Freeman Wills Crofts + + +Contents + + PART ONE. THE AMATEURS + CHAPTER I. THE SAWMILL ON THE LESQUE + CHAPTER II. AN INTERESTING SUGGESTION + CHAPTER III. THE START OF THE CRUISE + CHAPTER IV. A COMMERCIAL PROPOSITION + CHAPTER V. THE VISIT OF THE “GIRONDIN” + CHAPTER VI. A CHANGE OF VENUE + CHAPTER VII. THE FERRIBY DEPOT + CHAPTER VIII. THE UNLOADING OF THE “GIRONDIN” + CHAPTER IX. THE SECOND CARGO + CHAPTER X. MERRIMAN BECOMES DESPERATE + CHAPTER XI. AN UNEXPECTED ALLY + + PART TWO. THE PROFESSIONALS + CHAPTER XII. MURDER! + CHAPTER XIII. A PROMISING CLUE + CHAPTER XIV. A MYSTIFYING DISCOVERY + CHAPTER XV. INSPECTOR WILLIS LISTENS IN + CHAPTER XVI. THE SECRET OF THE SYNDICATE + CHAPTER XVII. “ARCHER PLANTS STUFF” + CHAPTER XVIII. THE BORDEAUX LORRIES + CHAPTER XIX. WILLIS SPREADS HIS NET + CHAPTER XX. THE DOUBLE CROSS + + + + +PART ONE. +THE AMATEURS + + + + +CHAPTER I. +THE SAWMILL ON THE LESQUE + + +Seymour Merriman was tired; tired of the jolting saddle of his motor +bicycle, of the cramped position of his arms, of the chug of the +engine, and most of all, of the dreary, barren country through which he +was riding. Early that morning he had left Pau, and with the exception +of an hour and a half at Bayonne, where he had lunched and paid a short +business call, he had been at it ever since. It was now after five +o’clock, and the last post he had noticed showed him he was still +twenty-six kilometers from Bordeaux, where he intended to spend the +night. + +“This confounded road has no end,” he thought. “I really must stretch +my legs a bit.” + +A short distance in front of him a hump in the white ribbon of the road +with parapet walls narrowing in at each side indicated a bridge. He cut +off his engine and, allowing the machine to coast, brought it to a +stand at the summit. Then dismounting, he slid it back on its bracket; +stretched himself luxuriously, and looked around. + +In both directions, in front of him and behind, the road stretched, +level and monotonous as far as the eye could reach, as he had seen it +stretch, with but few exceptions, during the whole of the day’s run. +But whereas farther south it had led through open country, desolate, +depressing wastes of sand and sedge, here it ran through the heart of a +pine forest, in its own way as melancholy. The road seemed isolated, +cut off from the surrounding country, like to be squeezed out of +existence by the overwhelming barrier on either flank, a screen, +aromatic indeed, but dark, gloomy, and forbidding. Nor was the prospect +improved by the long, unsightly gashes which the resin collectors had +made on the trunks, suggesting, as they did, that the trees were +stricken by some disease. To Merriman the country seemed utterly +uninhabited. Indeed, since running through Labouheyre, now two hours +back, he could not recall having seen a single living creature except +those passing in motor cars, and of these even there were but few. + +He rested his arms on the masonry coping of the old bridge and drew at +his cigarette. But for the distant rumble of an approaching vehicle, +the spring evening was very still. The river curved away gently towards +the left, flowing black and sluggish between its flat banks, on which +the pines grew down to the water’s edge. It was delightful to stay +quiet for a few moments, and Merriman took off his cap and let the cool +air blow on his forehead, enjoying the relaxation. + +He was a pleasant-looking man of about eight-and-twenty, clean shaven +and with gray, honest eyes, dark hair slightly inclined to curl, and a +square, well-cut jaw. Business had brought him to France. Junior +partner in the firm of Edwards & Merriman, Wine Merchants, Gracechurch +Street, London, he annually made a tour of the exporters with whom his +firm dealt. He had worked across the south of the country from Cette to +Pau, and was now about to recross from Bordeaux to near Avignon, after +which his round would be complete. To him this part of his business was +a pleasure, and he enjoyed his annual trip almost as much as if it had +been a holiday. + +The vehicle which he had heard in the distance was now close by, and he +turned idly to watch it pass. He did not know then that this slight +action, performed almost involuntarily, was to change his whole life, +and not only his, but the lives of a number of other people of whose +existence he was not then aware, was to lead to sorrow as well as +happiness, to crime as well as the vindication of the law, to... in +short, what is more to the point, had he not then looked round, this +story would never have been written. + +The vehicle in itself was in no way remarkable. It was a motor lorry of +about five tons capacity, a heavy thing, travelling slowly. Merriman’s +attention at first focused itself on the driver. He was a man of about +thirty, good-looking, with thin, clear-cut features, an aquiline nose, +and dark, clever-looking eyes. Dressed though he was in rough working +clothes, there was a something in his appearance, in his pose, which +suggested a man of better social standing than his occupation +warranted. + +“Ex-officer,” thought Merriman as his gaze passed on to the lorry +behind. It was painted a dirty green, and was empty except for a single +heavy casting, evidently part of some large and massive machine. On the +side of the deck was a brass plate bearing the words in English “The +Landes Pit-Prop Syndicate, No. 4.” Merriman was somewhat surprised to +see a nameplate in his own language in so unexpected a quarter, but the +matter really did not interest him and he soon dismissed it from his +mind. + +The machine chuffed ponderously past, and Merriman, by now rested, +turned to restart his bicycle. But his troubles for the day were not +over. On the ground below his tank was a stain, and even as he looked, +a drop fell from the carburetor feed pipe, followed by a second and a +third. + +He bent down to examine, and speedily found the cause of the trouble. +The feed pipe was connected to the bottom of the tank by a union, and +the nut, working slack, had allowed a small but steady leak. He +tightened the nut and turned to measure the petrol in the tank. A +glance showed him that a mere drain only remained. + +“Curse it all,” he muttered, “that’s the second time that confounded +nut has left me in the soup.” + +His position was a trifle awkward. He was still some twenty-five +kilometers from Bordeaux, and his machine would not carry him more than +perhaps two. Of course, he could stop the first car that approached, +and no doubt borrow enough petrol to make the city, but all day he had +noticed with surprise how few and far between the cars were, and there +was no certainty that one would pass within a reasonable time. + +Then the sound of the receding lorry, still faintly audible, suggested +an idea. It was travelling so slowly that he might overtake it before +his petrol gave out. It was true he was going in the wrong direction, +and if he failed he would be still farther from his goal, but when you +are twenty-five kilometers from where you want to be, a few hundred +yards more or less is not worth worrying about. + +He wheeled his machine round and followed the lorry at full speed. But +he had not more than started when he noticed his quarry turning to the +right. Slowly it disappeared into the forest. + +“Funny I didn’t see that road,” thought Merriman as he bumped along. + +He slackened speed when he reached the place where the lorry had +vanished, and then he saw a narrow lane just wide enough to allow the +big vehicle to pass, which curved away between the tree stems. The +surface was badly cut up with wheel tracks, so much so that Merriman +decided he could not ride it. He therefore dismounted, hid his bicycle +among the trees, and pushed on down the lane on foot. He was convinced +from his knowledge of the country that the latter must be a cul-de-sac, +at the end of which he would find the lorry. This he could hear not far +away, chugging slowly on in front of him. + +The lane twisted incessantly, apparently to avoid the larger trees. The +surface was the virgin soil of the forest only, but the ruts had been +filled roughly with broken stones. + +Merriman strode on, and suddenly, as he rounded one of the bends, he +got the surprise of his life. + +Coming to meet him along the lane was a girl. This in itself was +perhaps not remarkable, but this girl seemed so out of place amid such +surroundings, or even in such a district, that Merriman was quite taken +aback. + +She was of medium height, slender and graceful as a lily, and looked +about three-and-twenty. She was a study in brown. On her head was a +brown tam, a rich, warm brown, like the brown of autumn bracken on the +moor. She wore a brown jumper, brown skirt, brown stockings and little +brown brogued shoes. As she came closer, Merriman saw that her eyes, +friendly, honest eyes, were a shade of golden brown, and that a hint of +gold also gleamed in the brown of her hair. She was pretty, not +classically beautiful, but very charming and attractive-looking. She +walked with the free, easy movement of one accustomed to an out-of-door +life. + +As they drew abreast Merriman pulled off his cap. + +“Pardon, mademoiselle,” he said in his somewhat halting French, “but +can you tell me if I could get some petrol close by?” and in a few +words he explained his predicament. + +She looked him over with a sharp, scrutinizing glance. Apparently +satisfied, she smiled slightly and replied: + +“But certainly, monsieur. Come to the mill and my father will get you +some. He is the manager.” + +She spoke even more haltingly than he had, and with no semblance of a +French accent—the French rather of an English school. He stared at her. + +“But you’re English!” he cried in surprise. + +She laughed lightly. + +“Of course I’m English,” she answered. “Why shouldn’t I be English? But +I don’t think you’re very polite about it, you know.” + +He apologized in some confusion. It was the unexpectedness of meeting a +fellow-countryman in this out of the way wood... It was... He did not +mean.... + +“You want to say my French is not really so bad after all?” she said +relentlessly, and then: “I can tell you it’s a lot better than when we +came here.” + +“Then you are a newcomer?” + +“We’re not out very long. It’s rather a change from London, as you may +imagine. But it’s not such a bad country as it looks. At first I +thought it would be dreadful, but I have grown to like it.” + +She had turned with him, and they were now walking together between the +tall, straight stems of the trees. + +“I’m a Londoner,” said Merriman slowly. “I wonder if we have any mutual +acquaintances?” + +“It’s hardly likely. Since my mother died some years ago we have lived +very quietly, and gone out very little.” + +Merriman did not wish to appear inquisitive. He made a suitable reply +and, turning the conversation to the country, told her of his day’s +ride. She listened eagerly, and it was borne in upon him that she was +lonely, and delighted to have anyone to talk to. She certainly seemed a +charming girl, simple, natural and friendly, and obviously a lady. + +But soon their walk came to an end. Some quarter of a mile from the +wood the lane debouched into a large, D-shaped clearing. It had +evidently been recently made, for the tops of many of the tree-stumps +dotted thickly over the ground were still white. Round the semicircle +of the forest trees were lying cut, some with their branches still +intact, others stripped clear to long, straight poles. Two small gangs +of men were at work, one felling, the other lopping. + +Across the clearing, forming its other boundary and the straight side +of the D, ran a river, apparently from its direction that which +Merriman had looked down on from the road bridge. It was wider here, a +fine stretch of water, though still dark colored and uninviting from +the shadow of the trees. On its bank, forming a center to the cleared +semicircle, was a building, evidently the mill. It was a small place, +consisting of a single long narrow galvanized iron shed, and placed +parallel to the river. In front of the shed was a tiny wharf, and +behind it were stacks and stacks of tree trunks cut in short lengths +and built as if for seasoning. Decauville tramways radiated from the +shed, and the men were running in timber in the trucks. From the mill +came the hard, biting screech of a circular saw. + +“A sawmill!” Merriman exclaimed rather unnecessarily. + +“Yes. We cut pit-props for the English coal mines. Those are they you +see stacked up. As soon as they are drier they will be shipped across. +My father joined with some others in putting up the capital, +and—voila!” She indicated the clearing and its contents with a +comprehensive sweep of her hand. + +“By Jove! A jolly fine notion, too, I should say. You have everything +handy—trees handy, river handy—I suppose from the look of that wharf +that sea-going ships can come up?” + +“Shallow draughted ones only. But we have our own motor ship specially +built and always running. It makes the round trip in about ten days.” + +“By Jove!” Merriman said again. “Splendid! And is that where you live?” + +He pointed to a house standing on a little hillock near the edge of the +clearing at the far or down-stream side of the mill. It was a rough, +but not uncomfortable-looking building of galvanized iron, one-storied +and with a piazza in front. From a brick chimney a thin spiral of blue +smoke was floating up lazily into the calm air. + +The girl nodded. + +“It’s not palatial, but it’s really wonderfully comfortable,” she +explained, “and oh, the fires! I’ve never seen such glorious wood fires +as we have. Cuttings, you know. We have more blocks than we know what +to do with.” + +“I can imagine. I wish we had ’em in London.” + +They were walking not too rapidly across the clearing towards the mill. +At the back of the shed were a number of doors, and opposite one of +them, heading into the opening, stood the motor lorry. The engine was +still running, but the driver had disappeared, apparently into the +building. As the two came up, Merriman once more ran his eye idly over +the vehicle. And then he felt a sudden mild surprise, as one feels when +some unexpected though quite trivial incident takes place. He had felt +sure that this lorry standing at the mill door was that which had +passed him on the bridge, and which he had followed down the lane. But +now he saw it wasn’t. He had noted, idly but quite distinctly, that the +original machine was No. 4. This one had a precisely similar plate, but +it bore the legend “The Landes Pit-Prop Syndicate, No. 3.” + +Though the matter was of no importance, Merriman was a little +intrigued, and he looked more closely at the vehicle. As he did so his +surprise grew and his trifling interest became mystification. The lorry +was the same. At least there on the top was the casting, just as he had +seen it. It was inconceivable that two similar lorries should have two +identical castings arranged in the same way, and at the same time and +place. And yet, perhaps it was just possible. + +But as he looked he noticed a detail which settled the matter. The +casting was steadied by some rough billets of wood. One of these +billets was split, and a splinter of curious shape had partially +entered a bolt hole. He recalled now, though it had slipped from his +memory, that he had noticed that queer-shaped splinter as the lorry +passed him on the bridge. It was therefore unquestionably and beyond a +shadow of doubt the same machine. + +Involuntarily he stopped and stood staring at the number plate, +wondering if his recollection of that seen at the bridge could be at +fault. He thought not. In fact, he was certain. He recalled the shape +of the 4, which had an unusually small hollow in the middle. There was +no shadow of doubt of this either. He remained motionless for a few +seconds, puzzling over the problem, and was just about to remark on it +when the girl broke in hurriedly. + +“Father will be in the office,” she said, and her voice was sharpened +as from anxiety. “Won’t you come and see him about the petrol?” + +He looked at her curiously. The smile had gone from her lips, and her +face was pale. She was frowning, and in her eyes there showed +unmistakable fear. She was not looking at him, and his gaze followed +the direction of hers. + +The driver had come out of the shed, the same dark, aquiline-featured +man as had passed him on the bridge. He had stopped and was staring at +Merriman with an intense regard in which doubt and suspicion rapidly +changed to hostility. For a moment neither man moved, and then once +again the girl’s voice broke in. + +“Oh, there is father,” she cried, with barely disguised relief in her +tones. “Come, won’t you, and speak to him.” + +The interruption broke the spell. The driver averted his eyes and +stooped over his engine; Merriman turned towards the girl, and the +little incident was over. + +It was evident to Merriman that he had in some way put his foot in it, +how he could not imagine, unless there was really something in the +matter of the number plate. But it was equally clear to him that his +companion wished to ignore the affair, and he therefore expelled it +from his mind for the moment, and once again following the direction of +her gaze, moved towards a man who was approaching from the far end of +the shed. + +He was tall and slender like his daughter, and walked with lithe, +slightly feline movements. His face was oval, clear skinned, and with a +pallid complexion made still paler by his dark hair and eyes and a tiny +mustache, almost black and with waxed and pointed ends. He was +good-looking as to features, but the face was weak and the expression a +trifle shifty. + +His daughter greeted him, still with some perturbation in her manner. + +“We were just looking for you, daddy,” she called a little +breathlessly. “This gentleman is cycling to Bordeaux and has run out of +petrol. He asked me if there was any to be had hereabouts, so I told +him you could give him some.” + +The newcomer honored Merriman with a rapid though searching and +suspicious glance, but he replied politely, and in a cultured voice: + +“Quite right, my dear.” He turned to Merriman and spoke in French. “I +shall be very pleased to supply you, monsieur. How much do you want?” + +“Thanks awfully, sir,” Merriman answered in his own language. “I’m +English. It’s very good of you, I’m sure, and I’m sorry to be giving so +much trouble. A liter should run me to Bordeaux, or say a little more +in case of accidents.” + +“I’ll give you two liters. It’s no trouble at all.” He turned and spoke +in rapid French to the driver. + +“Oui, monsieur,” the man replied, and then, stepping up to his chief, +he said something in a low voice. The other started slightly, for a +moment looked concerned, then instantly recovering himself, advanced to +Merriman. + +“Henri, here, will send a man with a two-liter can to where you have +left your machine,” he said, then continued with a suave smile: + +“And so, sir, you’re English? It is not often that we have the pleasure +of meeting a fellow-countryman in these wilds.” + +“I suppose not, sir, but I can assure you your pleasure and surprise is +as nothing to mine. You are not only a fellow-countryman but a friend +in need as well.” + +“My dear sir, I know what it is to run out of spirit. And I suppose +there is no place in the whole of France where you might go farther +without finding any than this very district. You are on pleasure bent, +I presume?” + +Merriman shook his head. + +“Unfortunately, no,” he replied. “I’m travelling for my firm, Edwards & +Merriman, Wine Merchants of London. I’m Merriman, Seymour Merriman, and +I’m going round the exporters with whom we deal.” + +“A pleasant way to do it, Mr. Merriman. My name is Coburn. You see I am +trying to change the face of the country here?” + +“Yes, Miss”—Merriman hesitated for a moment and looked at the +girl—“Miss Coburn told me what you were doing. A splendid notion, I +think.” + +“Yes, I think we are going to make it pay very well. I suppose you’re +not making a long stay?” + +“Two days in Bordeaux, sir, then I’m off east to Avignon.” + +“Do you know, I rather envy you. One gets tired of these tree trunks +and the noise of the saws. Ah, there is your petrol.” A workman had +appeared with a red can of Shell. “Well, Mr. Merriman, a pleasant +journey to you. You will excuse my not going farther with you, but I am +really supposed to be busy.” He turned to his daughter with a smile. +“You, Madeleine, can see Mr. Merriman to the road?” + +He shook hands, declined Merriman’s request to be allowed to pay for +the petrol and, cutting short the other’s thanks with a wave of his +arm, turned back to the shed. + +The two young people strolled slowly back across the clearing, the girl +evidently disposed to make the most of the unwonted companionship, and +Merriman no less ready to prolong so delightful an interview. But in +spite of the pleasure of their conversation, he could not banish from +his mind the little incident which had taken place, and he determined +to ask a discreet question or two about it. + +“I say,” he said, during a pause in their talk, “I’m afraid I upset +your lorry man somehow. Did you notice the way he looked at me?” + +The girl’s manner, which up to this had been easy and careless, changed +suddenly, becoming constrained and a trifle self-conscious. But she +answered readily enough. + +“Yes, I saw it. But you must not mind Henri. He was badly +shell-shocked, you know, and he has never been the same since.” + +“Oh, I’m sorry,” Merriman apologized, wondering if the man could be a +relative. “Both my brothers suffered from it. They were pretty bad, but +they’re coming all right. It’s generally a question of time, I think.” + +“I hope so,” Miss Coburn rejoined, and quietly but decisively changed +the subject. + +They began to compare notes about London, and Merriman was sorry when, +having filled his tank and pushed his bicycle to the road, he could no +longer with decency find an excuse for remaining in her company. He +bade her a regretful farewell, and some half-hour later was mounting +the steps of his hotel in Bordeaux. + +That evening and many times later, his mind reverted to the incident of +the lorry. At the time she made it, Miss Coburn’s statement about the +shell-shock had seemed entirely to account for the action of Henri, the +driver. But now Merriman was not so sure. The more he thought over the +affair, the more certain he felt that he had not made a mistake about +the number plate, and the more likely it appeared that the driver had +guessed what he, Merriman, had noticed, and resented it. It seemed to +him that there was here some secret which the man was afraid might +become known, and Merriman could not but admit to himself that all Miss +Coburn’s actions were consistent with the hypothesis that she also +shared that secret and that fear. + +And yet the idea was grotesque that there could be anything serious in +the altering of the number plate of a motor lorry, assuming that he was +not mistaken. Even if the thing had been done, it was a trivial matter +and, so far as he could see, the motives for it, as well as its +consequences, must be trivial. It was intriguing, but no one could +imagine it to be important. As Merriman cycled eastward through France +his interest in the affair gradually waned, and when, a fortnight +later, he reached England, he had ceased to give it a serious thought. + +But the image of Miss Coburn did not so quickly vanish from his +imagination, and many times he regretted he had not taken an +opportunity of returning to the mill to renew the acquaintanceship so +unexpectedly begun. + + + + +CHAPTER II. +AN INTERESTING SUGGESTION + + +About ten o’clock on a fine evening towards the end of June, some six +weeks after the incident described in the last chapter, Merriman formed +one of a group of young men seated round the open window of the smoking +room in the Rovers’ Club in Cranbourne Street. They had dined together, +and were enjoying a slack hour and a little desultory conversation +before moving on, some to catch trains to the suburbs, some to their +chambers in town, and others to round off the evening with some +livelier form of amusement. The Rovers had premises on the fourth floor +of a large building near the Hippodrome. Its membership consisted +principally of business and professional men, but there was also a +sprinkling of members of Parliament, political secretaries, and minor +government officials, who, though its position was not ideal, were +attracted to it because of the moderation of its subscription and the +excellence of its cuisine. + +The evening was calm, and the sounds from the street below seemed to +float up lazily to the little group in the open window, as the smoke of +their pipes and cigars floated up lazily to the ceiling above. The +gentle hum of the traffic made a pleasant accompaniment to their +conversation, as the holding down of a soft pedal fills in and supports +dreamy organ music. But for the six young men in the bow window the +room was untenanted, save for a waiter who had just brought some fresh +drinks, and who was now clearing away empty glasses from an adjoining +table. + +The talk had turned on foreign travel, and more than one member had +related experiences which he had undergone while abroad. Merriman was +tired and had been rather silent, but it was suddenly borne in on him +that it was his duty, as one of the hosts of the evening, to contribute +somewhat more fully towards the conversation. He determined to relate +his little adventure at the sawmill of the Pit-Prop Syndicate. He +therefore lit a fresh cigar, and began to speak. + +“Any of you fellows know the country just south of Bordeaux?” he asked, +and, as no one responded, he went on: “I know it a bit, for I have to +go through it every year on my trip round the wine exporters. This year +a rather queer thing happened when I was about half an hour’s run from +Bordeaux; absolutely a trivial thing and of no importance, you +understand, but it puzzled me. Maybe some of you could throw some light +on it?” + +“Proceed, my dear sir, with your trivial narrative,” invited Jelfs, a +man sitting at one end of the group. “We shall give it the weighty +consideration which it doubtless deserves.” + +Jelfs was a stockbroker and the professional wit of the party. He was a +good soul, but boring. Merriman took no notice of the interruption. + +“It was between five and six in the evening,” he went on, and he told +in some detail of his day’s run, culminating in his visit to the +sawmill and his discovery of the alteration in the number of the lorry. +He gave the facts exactly as they had occurred, with the single +exception that he made no mention of his meeting with Madeleine Coburn. + +“And what happened?” asked Drake, another of the men, when he had +finished. + +“Nothing more happened,” Merriman returned. “The manager came and gave +me some petrol, and I cleared out. The point is, why should that number +plate have been changed?” + +Jelfs fixed his eyes on the speaker, and gave the little sidelong nod +which indicated to the others that another joke was about to be +perpetrated. + +“You say,” he asked impressively, “that the lorry was at first 4 and +then 3. Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake of 41?” + +“How do you mean?” + +“I mean that it’s a common enough phenomenon for a No. 4 lorry to +change, after lunch, let us say, into No. 44. Are you sure it wasn’t +44?” + +Merriman joined in the laughter against him. + +“It wasn’t forty-anything, you old blighter,” he said good-humoredly. +“It was 4 on the road, and 3 at the mill, and I’m as sure of it as that +you’re an amiable imbecile.” + +“Inconclusive,” murmured Jelfs, “entirely inconclusive. But,” he +persisted, “you must not hold back material evidence. You haven’t told +us yet what you had at lunch.” + +“Oh, stow it, Jelfs,” said Hilliard, a thin-faced, eager-looking young +man who had not yet spoken. “Have you no theory yourself, Merriman?” + +“None. I was completely puzzled. I would have mentioned it before, only +it seemed to be making a mountain out of nothing.” + +“I think Jelfs’ question should be answered, you know,” Drake said +critically, and after some more good-natured chaff the subject dropped. + +Shortly after one of the men had to leave to catch his train, and the +party broke up. As they left the building Merriman found Hilliard at +his elbow. + +“Are you walking?” the latter queried. “If so I’ll come along.” + +Claud Hilliard was the son of a clergyman in the Midlands, a keen, not +to say brilliant student who had passed through both school and college +with distinction, and was already at the age of eight-and-twenty making +a name for himself on the headquarters staff of the Customs Department. +His thin, eager face, with its hooked nose, pale blue eyes and light, +rather untidy-looking hair, formed a true index of his nimble, somewhat +speculative mind. What he did, he did with his might. He was keenly +interested in whatever he took up, showing a tendency, indeed, to ride +his hobbies to death. He had a particular penchant for puzzles of all +kinds, and many a knotty problem brought to him as a last court of +appeal received a surprisingly rapid and complete solution. His +detractors, while admitting his ingenuity and the almost uncanny +rapidity with which he seized on the essential facts of a case, said he +was lacking in staying power, but if this were so, he had not as yet +shown signs of it. + +He and Merriman had first met on business, when Hilliard was sent to +the wine merchants on some matter of Customs. The acquaintanceship thus +formed had ripened into a mild friendship, though the two had not seen +a great deal of each other. + +They passed up Coventry Street and across the Circus into Piccadilly. +Hilliard had a flat in a side street off Knightsbridge, while Merriman +lived farther west in Kensington. At the door of the flat Hilliard +stopped. + +“Come in for a last drink, won’t you?” he invited. “It’s ages since +you’ve been here.” + +Merriman agreed, and soon the two friends were seated at another open +window in the small but comfortable sitting-room of the flat. + +They chatted for some time, and then Hilliard turned the conversation +to the story Merriman had told in the club. + +“You know,” he said, knocking the ash carefully off his cigar, “I was +rather interested in that tale of yours. It’s quite an intriguing +little mystery. I suppose it’s not possible that you could have made a +mistake about those numbers?” + +Merriman laughed. + +“I’m not exactly infallible, and I have, once or twice in my life, made +mistakes. But I don’t think I made one this time. You see, the only +question is the number at the bridge. The number at the mill is +certain. My attention was drawn to it, and I looked at it too often for +there to be the slightest doubt. It was No. 3 as certainly as I’m +alive. But the number at the bridge is different. There was nothing to +draw my attention to it, and I only glanced at it casually. I would say +that I was mistaken about it only for one thing. It was a black figure +on a polished brass ground, and I particularly remarked that the black +lines were very wide, leaving an unusually small brass triangle in the +center. If I noticed that, it must have been a 4.” + +Hilliard nodded. + +“Pretty conclusive, I should say.” He paused for a few moments, then +moved a little irresolutely. “Don’t think me impertinent, old man,” he +went on with a sidelong glance, “but I imagined from your manner you +were holding something back. Is there more in the story than you told?” + +It was now Merriman’s turn to hesitate. Although Madeleine Coburn had +been in his thoughts more or less continuously since he returned to +town, he had never mentioned her name, and he was not sure that he +wanted to now. + +“Sorry I spoke, old man,” Hilliard went on. “Don’t mind answering.” + +Merriman came to a decision. + +“Not at all” he answered slowly. “I’m a fool to make any mystery of it. +I’ll tell you. There is a girl there, the manager’s daughter. I met her +in the lane when I was following the lorry, and asked her about petrol. +She was frightfully decent; came back with me and told her father what +I wanted, and all that. But, Hilliard, here’s the point. She knew! +There’s something, and she knows it too. She got quite scared when that +driver fixed me with his eyes, and tried to get me away, and she was +quite unmistakably relieved when the incident passed. Then later her +father suggested she should see me to the road, and on the way I +mentioned the thing—said I was afraid I had upset the driver +somehow—and she got embarrassed at once, told me the man was +shell-shocked, implying that he was queer, and switched off on to +another subject so pointedly I had to let it go at that.” + +Hilliard’s eyes glistened. + +“Quite a good little mystery,” he said. “I suppose the man couldn’t +have been a relation, or even her fiancee?” + +“That occurred to me, and it is possible. But I don’t think so. I +believe she wanted to try to account for his manner, so as to prevent +my smelling a rat.” + +“And she did not account for it?” + +“Perhaps she did, but again I don’t think so. I have a pretty good +knowledge of shell-shock, as you know, and it didn’t look like it to +me. I don’t suggest she wasn’t speaking the truth. I mean that this +particular action didn’t seem to be so caused.” + +There was silence for a moment, and then Merriman continued: + +“There was another thing which might bear in the same direction, or +again it may only be my imagination—I’m not sure of it. I told you the +manager appeared just in the middle of the little scene, but I forgot +to tell you that the driver went up to him and said something in a low +tone, and the manager started and looked at me and seemed annoyed. But +it was very slight and only for a second; I would have noticed nothing +only for what went before. He was quite polite and friendly immediately +after, and I may have been mistaken and imagined the whole thing.” + +“But it works in,” Hilliard commented. “If the driver saw what you were +looking at and your expression, he would naturally guess what you had +noticed, and he would warn his boss that you had tumbled to it. The +manager would look surprised and annoyed for a moment, then he would +see he must divert your suspicion, and talk to you as if nothing had +happened.” + +“Quite. That’s just what I thought. But again, I may have been +mistaken.” + +They continued discussing the matter for some time longer, and then the +conversation turned into other channels. Finally the clocks chiming +midnight aroused Merriman, and he got up and said he must be going. + +Three days later he had a note from Hilliard. + +“Come in tonight about ten if you are doing nothing,” it read. “I have +a scheme on, and I hope you’ll join in with me. Tell you when I see +you.” + +It happened that Merriman was not engaged that evening, and shortly +after ten the two men were occupying the same arm-chairs at the same +open window, their glasses within easy reach and their cigars well +under way. + +“And what is your great idea?” Merriman asked when they had conversed +for a few moments. “If it’s as good as your cigars, I’m on.” + +Hilliard moved nervously, as if he found a difficulty in replying. +Merriman could see that he was excited, and his own interest quickened. + +“It’s about that tale of yours,” Hilliard said at length. “I’ve been +thinking it over.” + +He paused as if in doubt. Merriman felt like Alice when she had heard +the mock-turtle’s story, but he waited in silence, and presently +Hilliard went on. + +“You told it with a certain amount of hesitation,” he said. “You +suggested you might be mistaken in thinking there was anything in it. +Now I’m going to make a suggestion with even more hesitation, for it’s +ten times wilder than yours, and there is simply nothing to back it up. +But here goes all the same.” + +His indecision had passed now, and he went on fluently and with a +certain excitement. + +“Here you have a trade with something fishy about it. Perhaps you think +that’s putting it too strongly; if so, let us say there is something +peculiar about it; something, at all events, to call one’s attention to +it, as being in some way out of the common. And when we do think about +it, what’s the first thing we discover?” + +Hilliard looked inquiringly at his friend. The latter sat listening +carefully, but did not speak, and Hilliard answered his own question. + +“Why, that it’s an export trade from France to England—an export trade +only, mind you. As far as you learned, these people’s boat runs the +pit-props to England, but carries nothing back. Isn’t that so?” + +“They didn’t mention return cargoes,” Merriman answered, “but that +doesn’t mean there aren’t any. I did not go into the thing +exhaustively.” + +“But what could there be? What possible thing could be shipped in bulk +from this country to the middle of a wood near Bordeaux? Something, +mind you, that you, there at the very place, didn’t see. Can you think +of anything?” + +“Not at the moment. But I don’t see what that has to do with it.” + +“Quite possibly nothing, and yet it’s an interesting point.” + +“Don’t see it.” + +“Well, look here. I’ve been making inquiries, and I find most of our +pit-props come from Norway and the Baltic. But the ships that bring +them don’t go back empty. They carry coal. Now do you see?” + +It was becoming evident that Hilliard was talking of something quite +definite, and Merriman’s interest increased still further. + +“I daresay I’m a frightful ass,” he said, “but I’m blessed if I know +what you’re driving at.” + +“Costs,” Hilliard returned. “Look at it from the point of view of +costs. Timber in Norway is as plentiful and as cheap to cut as in the +Landes, indeed, possibly cheaper, for there is water there available +for power. But your freight will be much less if you can get a return +cargo. Therefore, _a priori_, it should be cheaper to bring props from +Norway than from France. Do you follow me so far?” + +Merriman nodded. + +“If it costs the same amount to cut the props at each place,” Hilliard +resumed, “and the Norwegian freight is lower, the Norwegian props must +be cheaper in England. How then do your friends make it pay?” + +“Methods more up to date perhaps. Things looked efficient, and that +manager seemed pretty wide-awake.” + +Hilliard shook his head. + +“Perhaps, but I doubt it. I don’t think you have much to teach the +Norwegians about the export of timber. Mind you, it may be all right, +but it seems to me a question if the Bordeaux people have a paying +trade.” + +Merriman was puzzled. + +“But it must pay or they wouldn’t go on with it. Mr. Coburn said it was +paying well enough.” + +Hilliard bent forward eagerly. + +“Of course he would say so,” he cried. “Don’t you see that his saying +so is in itself suspicious? Why should he want to tell you that if +there was nothing to make you doubt it?” + +“There is nothing to make me doubt it. See here, Hilliard, I don’t for +the life of me know what you’re getting at. For the Lord’s sake explain +yourself.” + +“Ah,” Hilliard returned with a smile, “you see you weren’t brought up +in the Customs. Do you know, Merriman, that the thing of all others +we’re keenest on is an import trade that doesn’t pay?” He paused a +moment, then added slowly: “Because if a trade which doesn’t pay is +continued, there must be something else to make it pay. Just think, +Merriman. What would make a trade from France to this country pay?” + +Merriman gasped. + +“By Jove, Hilliard! You mean smuggling?” + +Hilliard laughed delightedly. + +“Of course I mean smuggling, what else?” + +He waited for the idea to sink into his companion’s brain, and then +went on: + +“And now another thing. Bordeaux, as no one knows better than yourself, +is just the center of the brandy district. You see what I’m getting at. +My department would naturally be interested in a mysterious trade from +the Bordeaux district. You accidentally find one. See? Now what do you +think of it?” + +“I don’t think much of it,” Merriman answered sharply, while a wave of +unreasoning anger passed over him. The suggestion annoyed him +unaccountably. The vision of Madeleine Coburn’s clear, honest eyes +returned forcibly to his recollection. “I’m afraid you’re out of it +this time. If you had seen Miss Coburn you would have known she is not +the sort of girl to lend herself to anything of that kind.” + +Hilliard eyed his friend narrowly and with some surprise, but he only +said: + +“You think not? Well, perhaps you are right. You’ve seen her and I +haven’t. But those two points are at least interesting—the changing of +the numbers and the absence of a return trade.” + +“I don’t believe there’s anything in it.” + +“Probably you’re right, but the idea interests me. I was going to make +a proposal, but I expect now you won’t agree to it.” + +Merriman’s momentary annoyance was subsiding. + +“Let’s hear it anyway, old man,” he said in conciliatory tones. + +“You get your holidays shortly, don’t you?” + +“Monday week. My partner is away now, but he’ll be back on Wednesday. I +go next.” + +“I thought so. I’m going on mine next week—taking the motor launch, you +know. I had made plans for the Riviera—to go by the Seine, and from +there by canal to the Rhone and out at Marseilles. Higginson was coming +with me, but as you know he’s crocked up and won’t be out of bed for a +month. My proposal is that you come in his place, and that instead of +crossing France in the orthodox way by the Seine, we try to work +through from Bordeaux by the Garonne. I don’t know if we can do it, but +it would be rather fun trying. But anyway the point would be that we +should pay a call at your sawmill on the way, and see if we can learn +anything more about the lorry numbers. What do you say?” + +“Sounds jolly fascinating.” Merriman had quite recovered his good +humor. “But I’m not a yachtsman. I know nothing about the business.” + +“Pooh! What do you want to know? We’re not sailing, and motoring +through these rivers and canals is great sport. And then we can go on +to Monte and any of those places you like. I’ve done it before and had +no end of a good time. What do you say? Are you on?” + +“It’s jolly decent of you, I’m sure, Hilliard. If you think you can put +up with a hopeless landlubber, I’m certainly on.” + +Merriman was surprised to find how much he was thrilled by the +proposal. He enjoyed boating, though only very mildly, and it was +certainly not the prospect of endless journeyings along the canals and +rivers of France that attracted him. Still less was it the sea, of +which he hated the motion. Nor was it the question of the lorry +numbers. He was puzzled and interested in the affair, and he would like +to know the solution, but his curiosity was not desperately keen, and +he did not feel like taking a great deal of trouble to satisfy it. At +all events he was not going to do any spying, if that was what Hilliard +wanted, for he did not for a moment accept that smuggling theory. But +when they were in the neighborhood he supposed it would be permissible +to call and see the Coburns. Miss Coburn had seemed lonely. It would be +decent to try to cheer her up. They might invite her on board, and have +tea and perhaps a run up the river. He seemed to visualize the launch +moving easily between the tree-clad banks, Hilliard attending to the +engine and steering, he and the brown-eyed girl in the taffrail, or the +cockpit, or the well, or whatever you sat in on a motor boat. He +pictured a gloriously sunny afternoon, warm and delightful, with just +enough air made by the movement to prevent it being too hot. It +would... + +Hilliard’s voice broke in on his thoughts, and he realized his friend +had been speaking for some time. + +“She’s over-engined, if anything,” he was saying, “but that’s all to +the good for emergencies. I got fifteen knots out of her once, but she +averages about twelve. And good in a sea-way, too. For her size, as dry +a boat as ever I was in.” + +“What size is she?” asked Merriman. + +“Thirty feet, eight feet beam, draws two feet ten. She’ll go down any +of the French canals. Two four-cylinder engines, either of which will +run her. Engines and wheel amidships, cabin aft, decked over. Oh, she’s +a beauty. You’ll like her, I can tell you.” + +“But do you mean to tell me you would cross the Bay of Biscay in a boat +that size?” + +“The Bay’s maligned. I’ve been across it six times and it was only +rough once. Of course, I’d keep near the coast and run for shelter if +it came on to blow. You need not worry. She’s as safe as a house.” + +“I’m not worrying about her going to the bottom,” Merriman answered. +“It’s much worse than that. The fact is,” he went on in a burst of +confidence, “I can’t stand the motion. I’m ill all the time. Couldn’t I +join you later?” + +Hilliard nodded. + +“I had that in my mind, but I didn’t like to suggest it. As a matter of +fact it would suit me better. You see, I go on my holidays a week +earlier than you. I don’t want to hang about all that time waiting for +you. I’ll get a man and take the boat over to Bordeaux, send the man +home, and you can come overland and join me there. How would that suit +you?” + +“A1, Hilliard. Nothing could be better.” + +They continued discussing details for the best part of an hour, and +when Merriman left for home it had been arranged that he should follow +Hilliard by the night train from Charing Cross on the following Monday +week. + + + + +CHAPTER III. +THE START OF THE CRUISE + + +Dusk was already falling when the 9 p.m. Continental boat-train pulled +out of Charing Cross, with Seymour Merriman in the corner of a +first-class compartment. It had been a glorious day of clear atmosphere +and brilliant sunshine, and there was every prospect of a spell of good +weather. Now, as the train rumbled over the bridge at the end of the +station, sky and river presented a gorgeous color scheme of crimson and +pink and gold, shading off through violet and gray to nearly black. +Through the latticing of the girders the great buildings on the +northern bank showed up for a moment against the light beyond, dark and +somber masses with nicked and serrated tops, then, the river crossed, +nearer buildings intervened to cut off the view, and the train plunged +into the maze and wilderness of South London. + +The little pleasurable excitement which Merriman had experienced when +first the trip had been suggested had not waned as the novelty of the +idea passed. Not since he was a boy at school had he looked forward so +keenly to holidays. The launch, for one thing, would be a new +experience. He had never been on any kind of cruise. The nearest +approach had been a couple of days’ yachting on the Norfolk Broads, but +he had found that monotonous and boring, and had been glad when it was +over. But this, he expected, would be different. He delighted in poking +about abroad, not in the great cosmopolitan hotels, which after all are +very much the same all the world over, but where he came in contact +with actual foreign life. And how better could a country be seen than +by slowly motoring through its waterways? Merriman was well pleased +with the prospect. + +And then there would be Hilliard. Merriman had always enjoyed his +company, and he felt he would be an ideal companion on a tour. It was +true Hilliard had got a bee in his bonnet about this lorry affair. +Merriman was mildly interested in the thing, but he would never have +dreamed of going back to the sawmill to investigate. But Hilliard +seemed quite excited about it. His attitude, no doubt, might be partly +explained by his love of puzzles and mysteries. Perhaps also he half +believed in his absurd suggestion about the smuggling, or at least felt +that if it _were_ true there was the chance of his making some _coup_ +which would also make his name. How a man’s occupation colors his mind! +thought Merriman. Here was Hilliard, and because he was in the Customs +his ideas ran to Customs operations, and when he came across anything +he did not understand he at once suggested smuggling. If he had been a +soldier he would have guessed gun-running, and if a politician, a means +of bringing anarchist literature into the country. Well, he had not +seen Madeleine Coburn! He would soon drop so absurd a notion when he +had met her. The idea of her being party to such a thing was too +ridiculous even to be annoying. + +However, Hilliard insisted on going to the mill, and he, Merriman, +could then pay that call on the Coburns. It would not be polite to be +in the neighborhood and not do so. And it would be impossible to call +without asking Miss Coburn to come on the river. As the train rumbled +on through the rapidly darkening country Merriman began once again to +picture the details of that excursion. No doubt they could have tea on +board.... He mustn’t forget to buy some decent cakes in Bordeaux.... +Perhaps she would help him to get it ready while Hilliard steered and +pottered over his old engines.... He could just imagine her bending +over a tea tray, her graceful figure, the little brown tendrils of her +hair at the edge of her tam-o’-shanter, her brown eyes flashing up to +meet his own.... + +Dover came unexpectedly soon and Merriman had to postpone the further +consideration of his plans until he had gone on board the boat and +settled down in a corner of the smoker room. There, however, he fell +asleep, not awaking until roused by the bustle of the arrival in +Calais. + +He reached Paris just before six and drove to the Gare d’-Orsay, where +he had time for a bath and breakfast before catching the 7.50 a.m. +express for Bordeaux. Again it was a perfect day, and as the hours +passed and they ran steadily southward through the pleasing but +monotonous central plain of France, the heat grew more and more +oppressive. Poitiers was hot, Angouleme an oven, and Merriman was not +sorry when at a quarter to five they came in sight of the Garonne at +the outskirts of Bordeaux and a few moments later pulled up in the +Bastide Station. + +Hilliard was waiting at the platform barrier. + +“Hallo, old man,” he cried. “Jolly to see you. Give me one of your +handbags. I’ve got a taxi outside.” + +Merriman handed over the smaller of the two small suitcases he carried, +having, in deference to Hilliard’s warnings, left behind most of the +things he wanted to bring. They found the taxi and drove out at once +across the great stone bridge leading from the Bastide Station and +suburb on the east bank to the main city on the west. In front of them +lay the huge concave sweep of quays fronting the Garonne, here a river +of over a quarter of a mile in width, with behind the massed buildings +of the town, out of which here and there rose church spires and, +farther down-stream, the three imposing columns of the Place des +Quinconces. + +“Some river, this,” Merriman said, looking up and down the great sweep +of water. + +“Rather. I have the _Swallow_ ’longside a private wharf farther +up-stream. Rather tumble-down old shanty, but it’s easier than mooring +in the stream and rowing out. We’ll go and leave your things aboard, +and then we can come up town again and get some dinner.” + +“Right-o,” Merriman agreed. + +Having crossed the bridge they turned to the left, upstream, and ran +along the quays towards the south. After passing the railway bridge the +taxi swung down towards the water’s edge, stopping at a somewhat +decrepit enclosure, over the gate of which was the legend “Andre +Leblanc, Location de Canots.” Hilliard jumped out, paid the taxi man, +and, followed by Merriman, entered the enclosure. + +It was a small place, with a wooden quay along the river frontage and a +shed at the opposite side. Between the two lay a number of boats. Trade +appeared to be bad, for there was no life about the place and +everything was dirty and decaying. + +“There she is,” Hilliard cried, with a ring of pride in his voice. +“Isn’t she a beauty?” + +The _Swallow_ was tied up alongside the wharf, her bow upstream, and +lay tugging at her mooring ropes in the swift run of the ebb tide. +Merriman’s first glance at her was one of disappointment. He had +pictured a graceful craft of well-polished wood, with white deck +planks, shining brasswork and cushioned seats. Instead he saw a +square-built, clumsy-looking boat, painted, where the paint was not +worn off, a sickly greenish white, and giving a general impression of +dirt and want of attention. She was flush-decked, and sat high in the +water, with a freeboard of nearly five feet. A little forward of +amidships was a small deck cabin containing a brass wheel and binnacle. +Aft of the cabin, in the middle of the open space of the deck, was a +skylight, the top of which formed two short seats placed back to back. +Forward rose a stumpy mast carrying a lantern cage near the top, and +still farther forward, almost in the bows, lay an unexpectedly massive +anchor, housed in grids, with behind it a small hand winch for pulling +in the chain. + +“We had a bit of a blow coming round the Coubre into the river,” +Hilliard went on enthusiastically, “and I tell you she didn’t ship a +pint. The cabin bone dry, and green water coming over her all the +time.” + +Merriman could believe it. Though his temporary home was not beautiful, +he could see that she was strong; in fact, she was massive. But he +thanked his stars he had not assisted in the test. He shuddered at the +very idea, thinking gratefully that to reach Bordeaux the Paris-Orleans +Railway was good enough for him. + +But, realizing it was expected of him, he began praising the boat, +until the unsuspecting Hilliard believed him as enthusiastic as +himself. + +“Yes, she’s all of that,” he agreed. “Come aboard and see the cabin.” + +They descended a flight of steps let into the front of the wharf, wet, +slippery, ooze-covered steps left bare by the receding tide, and +stepping over the side entered the tiny deckhouse. + +“This is the chart-house, shelter, and companion-way all in one,” +Hilliard explained. “All the engine controls come up here, and I can +reach them with my left hand while steering with my right.” He +demonstrated as he spoke, and Merriman could not but agree that the +arrangements were wonderfully compact and efficient. + +“Come below now,” went on the proud owner, disappearing down a steep +flight of steps against one wall of the house. + +The hull was divided into three compartments; amidships the engine room +with its twin engines, forward a store containing among other things a +collapsible boat, and aft a cabin with lockers on each side, a folding +table between them, and a marble-topped cupboard on which was a Primus +stove. + +The woodwork was painted the same greenish white as the outside, but it +was soiled and dingy, and the whole place looked dirty and untidy. +There was a smell of various oils, paraffin predominating. + +“You take the port locker,” Hilliard explained. “You see, the top of it +lifts and you can stow your things in it. When there are only two of us +we sleep on the lockers. You’ll find a sheet and blankets inside. +There’s a board underneath that turns up to keep you in if she’s +rolling; not that we shall want it until we get to the Mediterranean. +I’m afraid,” he went on, answering Merriman’s unspoken thought, “the +place is not very tidy. I hadn’t time to do much squaring—I’ll tell you +about that later. I suppose”—reluctantly—“we had better turn to and +clean up a bit before we go to bed. But”—brightening up again—“not now. +Let’s go up town and get some dinner as soon as you are ready.” + +He fussed about, explaining with the loving and painstaking minuteness +of the designer as well as the owner, the various contraptions the boat +contained, and when he had finished, Merriman felt that, could he but +remember his instructions, there were few situations with which he +could not cope or by which he could be taken unawares. + +A few minutes later the two friends climbed once more up the slippery +steps, and, strolling slowly up the town, entered one of the large +restaurants in the Place de la Comedie. + +Since Merriman’s arrival Hilliard had talked vivaciously, and his thin, +hawk-like face had seemed even more eager than the wine merchant had +ever before seen it. At first the latter had put it down to the natural +interest of his own arrival, the showing of the boat to a new-comer, +and the start of the cruise generally, but as dinner progressed he +began to feel there must be some more tangible cause for the excitement +his friend was so obviously feeling. It was not Merriman’s habit to +beat about the bush. + +“What is it?” he asked during a pause in the conversation. + +“What is what?” returned Hilliard, looking uncomprehendingly at his +friend. + +“Wrong with you. Here you are, jumping about as if you were on pins and +needles and gabbling at the rate of a thousand words a minute. What’s +all the excitement about?” + +“I’m not excited,” Hilliard returned seriously, “but I admit being a +little interested by what has happened since we parted that night in +London. I haven’t told you yet. I was waiting until we had finished +dinner and could settle down. Let’s go and sit in the Jardin and you +shall hear.” + +Leaving the restaurant, they strolled to the Place des Quinconces, +crossed it, and entered the Jardin Public. The band was not playing +and, though there were a number of people about, the place was by no +means crowded, and they were able to find under a large tree set back a +little from one of the walks, two vacant chairs. Here they sat down, +enjoying the soft evening air, warm but no longer too warm, and +watching the promenading Bordelais. + +“Yes,” Hilliard resumed as he lit a cigar, “I have had quite an +interesting time. You shall hear. I got hold of Maxwell of the +telephones, who is a yachtsman, and who was going to Spain on holidays. +Well, the boat was laid up at Southampton, and we got down about midday +on Monday week. We spent that day overhauling her and getting in +stores, and on Tuesday we ran down Channel, putting into Dartmouth for +the night and to fill with petrol. Next day was our big day—across to +Brest, something like 170 miles, mostly open sea, and with Ushant at +the end of it—a beastly place, generally foggy and always with bad +currents. We intended to wait in the Dart for good weather, and we +wired the Meteorological Office for forecasts. It happened that on +Tuesday night there was a first-rate forecast, so on Wednesday we +decided to risk it. We slipped out past the old castle at Dartmouth at +5 a.m., had a topping run, and were in Brest at seven that evening. +There we filled up again, and next day, Thursday, we made St. Nazaire, +at the mouth of the Loire. We had intended to make a long day of it on +Friday and come right here, but as I told you it came on to blow a bit +off the Coubre, and we could only make the mouth of the river. We put +into a little place called Le Verdon, just inside the Pointe de +Grave—that’s the end of that fork of land on the southern side of the +Gironde estuary. On Saturday we got here about midday, hunted around, +found that old wharf and moored. Maxwell went on the same evening to +Spain.” + +Hilliard paused, while Merriman congratulated him on his journey. + +“Yes, we hadn’t bad luck,” he resumed. “But that really wasn’t what I +wanted to tell you about. I had brought a fishing rod and outfit, and +on Sunday I took a car and drove out along the Bayonne Road until I +came to your bridge over that river—the Lesque I find it is. I told the +chap to come back for me at six, and I walked down the river and did a +bit of prospecting. The works were shut, and by keeping the mill +building between me and the manager’s house, I got close up and had a +good look round unobserved—at least, I think I was unobserved. Well, I +must say the whole business looked genuine. There’s no question those +tree cuttings are pit-props, and I couldn’t see a single thing in the +slightest degree suspicious.” + +“I told you there could be nothing really wrong,” Merriman interjected. + +“I know you did, but wait a minute. I got back to the forest again in +the shelter of the mill building, and I walked around through the trees +and chose a place for what I wanted to do next morning. I had decided +to spend the day watching the lorries going to and from the works, and +I naturally wished to remain unobserved myself. The wood, as you know, +is very open. The trees are thick, but there is very little +undergrowth, and it’s nearly impossible to get decent cover. But at +last I found a little hollow with a mound between it and the lane and +road—just a mere irregularity in the surface like what a Tommy would +make when he began to dig himself in. I thought I could lie there +unobserved, and see what went on with my glass. I have a very good +prism monocular—twenty-five diameter magnification, with a splendid +definition. From my hollow I could just see through the trees vehicles +passing along the main road, but I had a fairly good view of the lane +for at least half its length. The view, of course, was broken by the +stems, but still I should be able to tell if any games were tried on. I +made some innocent looking markings so as to find the place again, and +then went back to the river and so to the bridge and my taxi.” + +Hilliard paused and drew at his cigar. Merriman did not speak. He was +leaning forward, his face showing the interest he felt. + +“Next morning, that was yesterday, I took another taxi and returned to +the bridge, again dressed as a fisherman. I had brought some lunch, and +I told the man to return for me at seven in the evening. Then I found +my hollow, lay down and got out my glass. I was settled there a little +before nine o’clock. + +“It was very quiet in the wood. I could hear faintly the noise of the +saws at the mill and a few birds were singing, otherwise it was +perfectly still. Nothing happened for about half an hour, then the +first lorry came. I heard it for some time before I saw it. It passed +very slowly along the road from Bordeaux, then turned into the lane and +went along it at almost walking pace. With my glass I could see it +distinctly and it had a label plate same as you described, and was No. +6. It was empty. The driver was a young man, clean-shaven and +fairhaired. + +“A few minutes later a second empty lorry appeared coming from +Bordeaux. It was No. 4, and the driver was, I am sure, the man you saw. +He was like your description of him at all events. This lorry also +passed along the lane towards the works. + +“There was a pause then for an hour or more. About half-past ten the +No. 4 lorry with your friend appeared coming along the lane outward +bound. It was heavily loaded with firewood and I followed it along, +going very slowly and bumping over the inequalities of the lane. When +it got to a point about a hundred yards from the road, at, I afterwards +found, an S curve which cut off the view in both directions, it stopped +and the driver got down. I need not tell you that I watched him +carefully and, Merriman, what do you, think I saw him do?” + +“Change the number plate?” suggested Merriman with a smile. + +“Change the number plate!” repeated Hilliard. “As I’m alive, that’s +exactly what he did. First on one side and then on the other. He +changed the 4 to a 1. He took the 1 plates out of his pocket and put +the 4 plates back instead, and the whole thing just took a couple of +seconds, as if the plates slipped in and out of a holder. Then he +hopped up into his place again and started off. What do you think of +that?” + +“Goodness only knows,” Merriman returned slowly. “An extraordinary +business.” + +“Isn’t it? Well, that lorry went on out of sight. I waited there until +after six, and four more passed. About eleven o’clock No. 6 with the +clean-shaven driver passed out, loaded, so far as I could see, with +firewood. That was the one that passed in empty at nine. Then there was +a pause until half past two, when your friend returned with his lorry. +It was empty this time, and it was still No. 1. But I’m blessed, +Merriman, if he didn’t stop at the same place and change the number +back to 4!” + +“Lord!” said Merriman tersely, now almost as much interested as his +friend. + +“It only took a couple of seconds, and then the machine lumbered on +towards the mill. I was pretty excited, I can tell you, but I decided +to sit tight and await developments. The next thing was the return of +No. 6 lorry and the clean-shaven driver. You remember it had started +out loaded at about eleven. It came back empty shortly after the other, +say about a quarter to three. It didn’t stop and there was no change +made with its number. Then there was another pause. At half past three +your friend came out again with another load. This time he was driving +No. 1, and I waited to see him stop and change it. But he didn’t do +either. Sailed away with the number remaining 1. Queer, isn’t it?” + +Merriman nodded and Hilliard resumed. + +“I stayed where I was, still watching, but I saw no more lorries. But I +saw Miss Coburn pass about ten minutes later—at least I presume it was +Miss Coburn. She was dressed in brown, and was walking smartly along +the lane towards the road. In about an hour she passed back. Then about +five minutes past five some workmen went by—evidently the day ends at +five. I waited until the coast was clear, then went down to the lane +and had a look round where the lorry had stopped and saw it was a +double bend and therefore the most hidden point. I walked back through +the wood to the bridge, picked up my taxi and got back here about half +past seven.” + +There was silence for some minutes after Hilliard ceased speaking, then +Merriman asked: + +“How long did you say those lorries were away unloading?” + +“About four hours.” + +“That would have given them time to unload in Bordeaux?” + +“Yes; an hour and a half, the same out, and an hour in the city. Yes, +that part of it is evidently right enough.” + +Again silence reigned, and again Merriman broke it with a question. + +“You have no theory yourself?” + +“Absolutely none.” + +“Do you think that driver mightn’t have some private game of his own +on—be somehow doing the syndicate?” + +“What about your own argument?” answered Hilliard. “Is it likely Miss +Coburn would join the driver in anything shady? Remember, your +impression was that she knew.” + +Merriman nodded. + +“That’s right,” he agreed, continuing slowly: “Supposing for a moment +it was smuggling. How would that help you to explain this affair?” + +“It wouldn’t. I can get no light anywhere.” + +The two men smoked silently, each busy with his thoughts. A certain +aspect of the matter which had always lain subconsciously in Merriman’s +mind was gradually taking concrete form. It had not assumed much +importance when the two friends were first discussing their trip, but +now that they were actually at grips with the affair it was becoming +more obtrusive, and Merriman felt it must be faced. He therefore spoke +again. + +“You know, old man, there’s one thing I’m not quite clear about. This +affair that you’ve discovered is extraordinarily interesting and all +that, but I’m hanged if I can see what business of ours it is.” + +Hilliard nodded swiftly. + +“I know,” he answered quickly. “The same thing has been bothering me. I +felt really mean yesterday when that girl came by, as if I were spying +on her, you know. I wouldn’t care to do it again. But I want to go on +to this place and see into the thing farther, and so do you.” + +“I don’t know that I do specially.” + +“We both do,” Hilliard reiterated firmly, “and we’re both justified. +See here. Take my case first. I’m in the Customs Department, and it is +part of my job to investigate suspicious import trades. Am I not +justified in trying to find out if smuggling is going on? Of course I +am. Besides, Merriman, I can’t pretend not to know that if I brought +such a thing to light I should be a made man. Mind you, we’re not out +to do these people any harm, only to make sure they’re not harming us. +Isn’t that sound?” + +“That may be all right for you, but I can’t see that the affair is any +business of mine.” + +“I think it is.” Hilliard spoke very quietly. “I think it’s your +business and mine—the business of any decent man. There’s a chance that +Miss Coburn may be in danger. We should make sure.” + +Merriman sat up sharply. + +“In Heaven’s name, what do you mean, Hilliard?” he cried fiercely. +“What possible danger could she be in?” + +“Well, suppose there is something wrong—only suppose, I say,” as the +other shook his head impatiently. “If there is, it’ll be on a big +scale, and therefore the men who run it won’t be over squeamish. Again, +if there’s anything, Miss Coburn knows about it. Oh, yes, she does,” he +repeated as Merriman would have dissented, “there is your own evidence. +But if she knows about some large, shady undertaking, she undoubtedly +may be in both difficulty and danger. At all events, as long as the +chance exists it’s up to us to make sure.” + +Merriman rose to his feet and began to pace up and down, his head bent +and a frown on his face. Hilliard took no notice of him and presently +he came back and sat down again. + +“You may be right,” he said. “I’ll go with you to find that out, and +that only. But I’ll not do any spying.” + +Hilliard was satisfied with his diplomacy. “I quite see your point,” he +said smoothly, “and I confess I think you are right. We’ll go and take +a look round, and if we find things are all right we’ll come away again +and there’s no harm done. That agreed?” + +Merriman nodded. + +“What’s the program then?” he asked. + +“I think tomorrow we should take the boat round to the Lesque. It’s a +good long run and we mustn’t be late getting away. Would five be too +early for you?” + +“Five? No, I don’t mind if we start now.” + +“The tide begins to ebb at four. By five we shall get the best of its +run. We should be out of the river by nine, and in the Lesque by four +in the afternoon. Though that mill is only seventeen miles from here as +the crow flies, it’s a frightful long way round by sea, most of 130 +miles, I should say.” Hilliard looked at his watch. “Eleven o’clock. +Well, what about going back to the _Swallow_ and turning in?” + +They left the Jardin, and, sauntering slowly through the well-lighted +streets, reached the launch and went on board. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +A COMMERCIAL PROPOSITION + + +Merriman was roused next morning by the feeling rather than the sound +of stealthy movements going on not far away. He had not speedily slept +after turning in. The novelty of his position, as well as the cramped +and somewhat knobby bed made by the locker, and the smell of oils, had +made him restless. But most of all the conversation be had had with +Hilliard had banished sleep, and he had lain thinking over the +adventure to which they had committed themselves, and listening to the +little murmurings and gurglings of the water running past the piles and +lapping on the woodwork beside his head. The launch kept slightly on +the move, swinging a little backwards and forwards in the current as it +alternately tightened and slackened its mooring ropes, and occasionally +quivering gently as it touched the wharf. Three separate times Merriman +had heard the hour chimed by the city clocks, and then at last a +delightful drowsiness crept over him, and consciousness had gradually +slipped away. But immediately this shuffling had begun, and with a +feeling of injury he roused himself to learn the cause. Opening his +eyes he found the cabin was full of light from the dancing reflections +of sunlit waves on the ceiling, and that Hilliard, dressing on the +opposite locker, was the author of the sounds which had disturbed him. + +“Good!” cried the latter cheerily. “You’re awake? Quarter to five and a +fine day.” + +“Couldn’t be,” Merriman returned, stretching himself luxuriously. “I +heard it strike two not ten seconds ago.” + +Hilliard laughed. + +“Well, it’s time we were under way anyhow,” he declared. “Tide’s +running out this hour. We’ll get a fine lift down to the sea.” + +Merriman got up and peeped out of the porthole above his locker. + +“I suppose you tub over the side?” he inquired. “Lord, what sunlight!” + +“Rather. But I vote we wait an hour or so until we’re clear of the +town. I fancy the water will be more inviting lower down. We could stop +and have a swim, and then we should be ready for breakfast.” + +“Right-o. You get way on her, or whatever you do, and I shall have a +shot at clearing up some of the mess you keep here.” + +Hilliard left the cabin, and presently a racketing noise and vibration +announced that the engines had been started. This presently subsided +into a not unpleasing hum, after which a hail came from forward. + +“Lend a hand to cast off, like a stout fellow.” + +Merriman hurriedly completed his dressing and went on deck, stopping in +spite of himself to look around before attending to the ropes. The sun +was low down over the opposite bank, and transformed the whole river +down to the railway bridge into a sheet of blinding light. Only the +southern end of the great structure was visible stretching out of the +radiance, as well as the houses on the western bank, but these showed +out with incredible sharpness in high lights and dark shadows. From +where they were lying they could not see the great curve of the quays, +and the town in spite of the brilliancy of the atmosphere looked drab +and unattractive. + +“Going to be hot,” Hilliard remarked. “The bow first, if you don’t +mind.” + +He started the screw, and kept the launch alongside the wharf while +Merriman cast off first the bow and then the stern ropes. Then, +steering out towards the middle of the river, he swung round and they +began to slip rapidly downstream with the current. + +After passing beneath the huge mass of the railway bridge they got a +better view of the city, its rather unimposing buildings clustering on +the great curve of the river to the left, and with the fine stone +bridge over which they had driven on the previous evening stretching +across from bank to bank in front of them. Slipping through one of its +seventeen arches, they passed the long lines of quays with their +attendant shipping, until gradually the houses got thinner and they +reached the country beyond. + +About a dozen miles below the town Hilliard shut off the engines, and +when the launch had come to rest on the swift current they had a +glorious dip—in turn. Then the odor of hot ham mingled in the cabin +with those of paraffin and burned petrol, and they had an even more +glorious breakfast. Finally the engines were restarted, and they +pressed steadily down the ever-widening estuary. + +About nine they got their first glimpse of the sea horizon, and, +shortly after, a slight heave gave Merriman a foretaste of what he must +soon expect. The sea was like a mill pond, but as they came out from +behind the Pointe de Grave they began to feel the effect of the long, +slow ocean swell. As soon as he dared Hilliard turned southwards along +the coast. This brought the swells abeam, but so large were they in +relation to the launch that she hardly rolled, but was raised and +lowered bodily on an almost even keel. Though Merriman was not actually +ill, he was acutely unhappy and experienced a thrill of thanksgiving +when, about five o’clock, they swung round east and entered the estuary +of the Lesque. + +“Must go slowly here,” Hilliard explained, as the banks began to draw +together. “There’s no sailing chart of this river, and we shall have to +feel our way up.” + +For some two miles they passed through a belt of sand dunes, great +yellow hillocks shaded with dark green where grasses had seized a +precarious foothold. Behind these the country grew flatter, and small, +blighted-looking shrubs began to appear, all leaning eastwards in +witness of the devastating winds which blew in from the sea. Farther on +these gave place to stunted trees, and by the time they had gone ten or +twelve miles they were in the pine forest. Presently they passed under +a girder bridge, carrying the railway from Bordeaux to Bayonne and the +south. + +“We can’t be far from the mill now,” said Hilliard a little later. “I +reckoned it must be about three miles above the railway.” + +They were creeping up very slowly against the current. The engines, +running easily, were making only a subdued murmur inaudible at any +considerable distance. The stream here was narrow, not more than about +a hundred yards across, and the tall, straight-stemmed pines grew down +to the water’s edge on either side. Already, though it was only seven +o’clock, it was growing dusk in the narrow channel, and Hilliard was +beginning to consider the question of moorings for the night. + +“We’ll go round that next bend,” he decided, “and look for a place to +anchor.” + +Some five minutes later they steered close in against a rapidly +shelving bit of bank, and silently lowered the anchor some twenty feet +from the margin. + +“Jove! I’m glad to have that anchor down,” Hilliard remarked, +stretching himself. “Here’s eight o’clock, and we’ve been at it since +five this morning. Let’s have supper and a pipe, and then we’ll discuss +our plans.” + +“And what are your plans?” Merriman asked, when an hour later they were +lying on their lockers, Hilliard with his pipe and Merriman with a +cigar. + +“Tomorrow I thought of going up in the collapsible boat until I came to +the works, then landing on the other bank and watching what goes on at +the mill. I thought of taking my glass and keeping cover myself. After +what you said last night you probably won’t care to come, and I was +going to suggest that if you cared to fish you would find everything +you wanted in that forward locker. In the evening we could meet here +and I would tell you if I saw anything interesting.” + +Merriman took his cigar from his lips and sat up on the locker. + +“Look here, old man,” he said, “I’m sorry I was a bit ratty last night. +I don’t know what came over me. I’ve been thinking of what you said, +and I agree that your view is the right one. I’ve decided that if +you’ll have me, I’m in this thing until we’re both satisfied there’s +nothing going to hurt either Miss Coburn or our own country.” + +Hilliard sprang to his feet and held out his hand. + +“Cheers!” he cried. “I’m jolly glad you feel that way. That’s all I +want to do too. But I can’t pretend my motives are altogether +disinterested. Just think of the kudos for us both if there _should_ be +something.” + +“I shouldn’t build too much on it.” + +“I’m not, but there is always the possibility.” + +Next morning the two friends got out the collapsible boat, locked up +the launch, and paddling gently up the river until the galvanized gable +of the Coburns’ house came in sight through the trees, went ashore on +the opposite bank. The boat they took to pieces and hid under a fallen +trunk, then, screened by the trees, they continued their way on foot. + +It was still not much after seven, another exquisitely clear morning +giving promise of more heat. The wood was silent though there was a +faint stir of life all around them, the hum of invisible insects, the +distant singing of birds as well as the murmur of the flowing water. +Their footsteps fell soft on the carpet of scant grass and decaying +pine needles. There seemed a hush over everything, as if they were +wandering amid the pillars of some vast cathedral with, instead of +incense, the aromatic smell of the pines in their nostrils. They walked +on, repressing the desire to step on tiptoe, until through the trees +they could see across the river the galvanized iron of the shed. + +A little bit higher up-stream the clearing of the trees had allowed +some stunted shrubs to cluster on the river bank. These appearing to +offer good cover, the two men crawled forward and took up a position in +their shelter. + +The bank they were on was at that point slightly higher than on the +opposite side, giving them an excellent view of the wharf and mill as +well as of the clearing generally. The ground, as has already been +stated, was in the shape of a D, the river bounding the straight side. +About half-way up this straight side was the mill, and about half-way +between it and the top were the shrubs behind which the watchers were +seated. At the opposite side of the mill from the shrubs, at the bottom +of the D pillar, the Coburns’ house stood on a little knoll. + +“Jolly good observation post, this,” Hilliard remarked as he stretched +himself at ease and laid his glass on the ground beside him. “They’ll +not do much that we shall miss from here.” + +“There doesn’t seem to be much to miss at present,” Merriman answered, +looking idly over the deserted space. + +About a quarter to eight a man appeared where the lane from the road +debouched into the clearing. He walked towards the shed, to disappear +presently behind it. Almost immediately blue smoke began issuing from +the metal chimney in the shed roof. It was evident he had come before +the others to get up steam. + +In about half an hour those others arrived, about fifteen men in all, a +rough-looking lot in laborers’ kit. They also vanished behind the shed, +but most of them reappeared almost immediately, laden with tools, and, +separating into groups, moved off to the edge of the clearing. Soon +work was in full swing. Trees were being cut down by one gang, the +branches lopped off fallen trunks by another, while a third was loading +up and running the stripped stems along a Decauville railway to the +shed. Almost incessantly the thin screech of the saws rose +penetratingly above the sounds of hacking and chopping and the calls of +men. + +[Illustration] + +“There doesn’t seem to be much wrong here,” Merriman said when they had +surveyed the scene for nearly an hour. + +“No,” Hilliard agreed, “and there didn’t seem to be much wrong when I +inspected the place on Sunday. But there can’t be anything _obviously_ +wrong. If there is anything, in the nature of things it won’t be easy +to find.” + +About nine o’clock Mr. Coburn, dressed in gray flannel, emerged from +his house and crossed the grass to the mill. He remained there for a +few minutes, then they saw him walking to the workers at the forest +edge. He spent some moments with each gang, afterwards returning to his +house. For nearly an hour things went on as before, and then Mr. Coburn +reappeared at his hall door, this time accompanied by his daughter. +Both were dressed extraordinarily well for such a backwater of +civilization, he with a gray Homburg hat and gloves, she as before in +brown, but in a well-cut coat and skirt and a smart toque and motoring +veil. Both were carrying dust coats. Mr. Coburn drew the door to, and +they walked towards the mill and were lost to sight behind it. Some +minutes passed, and between the screaming of the saws the sound of a +motor engine became audible. After a further delay a Ford car came out +from behind the shed and moved slowly over the uneven sward towards the +lane. In the car were Mr. and Miss Coburn and a chauffeur. + +Hilliard had been following every motion through his glass, and he now +thrust the instrument into his companion’s hand, crying softly: + +“Look, Merriman. Is that the lorry driver you saw?” Merriman focused +the glass on the chauffeur and recognized him instantly. It was the +same dark, aquiline-featured man who had stared at him so resentfully +on the occasion of his first visit to the mill, some two months +earlier. + +“By Jove, what an extraordinary stroke of luck!” Hilliard went on +eagerly. “All three of them that know you out of the way! We can go +down to the place now and ask for Mr. Coburn, and maybe we shall have a +chance to see inside that shed. Let’s go at once, before they come +back.” + +They crawled away from their point of vantage into the wood, and +retracing their steps to the boat, put it together and carried it to +the river. Then rowing up-stream, they reached the end of the wharf, +where a flight of wooden steps came down into the stream. Here they +went ashore, after making the painter fast to the woodwork. + +The front of the wharf, they had seen from the boat, was roughly though +strongly made. At the actual edge, there was a row of almost vertical +piles, pine trees driven unsquared. Behind these was a second row, +inclined inwards. The feet of both rows seemed to be pretty much in the +same line, but the tops of the raking row were about six feet behind +the others, the arrangement, seen from the side, being like a V of +which one leg is vertical. These tops were connected by beams, +supporting a timber floor. Behind the raking piles rough tree stems had +been laid on the top of each other horizontally to hold back the earth +filled behind them. The front was about a hundred feet long, and was +set some thirty feet out in the river. + +Parallel to the front and about fifty feet behind it was the wall of +the shed. It was pierced by four doors, all of which were closed, but +out of each of which ran a line of narrow gauge railway. These lines +were continued to the front of the wharf and there connected up by +turn-tables to a cross line, evidently with the idea that a continuous +service of loaded trucks could be sent out of one door, discharged, and +returned as empties through another. Stacks of pit-props stood ready +for loading between the lines. + +“Seems a sound arrangement,” Hilliard commented as they made their +inspection. + +“Quite. Anything I noticed before struck me as being efficient.” + +When they had seen all that the wharf appeared to offer, they walked +round the end of the shed. At the back were a number of doors, and +through these also narrow gauge lines were laid which connected with +those radiating to the edge of the clearing. Everywhere between the +lines were stacks of pit-props as well as blocks and cuttings. Three or +four of the doors were open, and in front of one of them, talking to +someone in the building, stood a man. + +Presently he turned and saw them. Immediately they advanced and +Hilliard accosted him. + +“Good-morning. We are looking for Mr. Coburn. Is he about?” + +“No, monsieur,” the man answered civilly, “he has gone into Bordeaux. +He won’t be back until the afternoon.” + +“That’s unfortunate for us,” Hilliard returned conversationally. “My +friend and I were passing up the river on our launch, and we had hoped +to have seen him. However, we shall get hold of him later. This is a +fine works you have got here.” + +The man smiled. He seemed a superior type to the others and was +evidently a foreman. + +“Not so bad, monsieur. We have four saws, but only two are running +today.” He pointed to the door behind him as he spoke, and the two +friends passed in as if to have an idle look round. + +The interior was fitted up like that of any other sawmill, but the same +element of design and efficiency seemed apparent here as elsewhere. The +foreman explained the process. The lopped trunks from the wood came in +by one of two roads through a large door in the center of the building. +Outside each road was a saw, its axle running parallel to the roads. +The logs were caught in grabs, slung on to the table of the saws and, +moving automatically all the time, were cut into lengths of from seven +to ten feet. The pieces passed for props were dumped on to a conveyor +which ran them out of the shed to be stacked for seasoning and export. +The rejected pieces by means of another conveyor moved to the third and +fourth saws, where they were cut into blocks for firewood, being +finally delivered into two large bins ready for loading on to the +lorries. + +The friends exhibited sufficient non-technical interest to manage to +spend a good deal of time over their survey, drawing out the foreman in +conversation and seeing as much as they could. At one end of the shed +was the boiler house and engine room, at the other the office, with +between it and the mill proper a spacious garage in which, so they were +told, the six lorries belonging to the syndicate were housed. Three +machines were there, two lying up empty, the third, with engine running +and loaded with blocks, being ready to start. They would have liked to +examine the number plate, but in the presence of the foreman it was +hardly possible. Finally they walked across the clearing to where +felling and lopping was in progress, and inspected the operations. When +they left shortly after with a promise to return to meet Mr. Coburn, +there was not much about the place they had missed. + +“That business is just as right as rain,” Merriman declared when they +were once more in the boat. “And that foreman’s all right too. I’d +stake my life he wasn’t hiding anything. He’s not clever enough for one +thing.” + +“So I think too,” Hilliard admitted. “And yet, what about the game with +the number plates? What’s the idea of that?” + +“I don’t know. But all the same I’ll take my oath there’s nothing wrong +about the timber trade. It’s no go, Hilliard. Let’s drop chasing wild +geese and get along with our trip.” + +“I feel very like it,” the other replied as he sucked moodily at his +pipe. “We’ll watch for another day or so, and if we see nothing +suspicious we can clear out.” + +But that very evening an incident occurred which, though trifling, +revived all their suspicions and threw them at once again into a sea of +doubt. + +Believing that the Coburns would by that time have returned, they left +the launch about five o’clock to call. Reaching the edge of the +clearing almost directly behind the house, they passed round the latter +and rang. + +The door was opened by Miss Coburn herself. It happened that the sun +was shining directly in her eyes, and she could not therefore see her +visitors’ features. + +“You are the gentlemen who wished to see Mr. Coburn, I presume?” she +said before Merriman could speak. “He is at the works. You will find +him in his office.” + +Merriman stepped forward, his cap off. + +“Don’t you remember me, Miss Coburn?” he said earnestly. “I had the +pleasure of meeting you in May, when you were so kind as to give me +petrol to get me to Bordeaux.” + +Miss Coburn looked at him more carefully, and her manner, which had up +to then been polite, but coolly self-contained, suddenly changed. Her +face grew dead white and she put her hand sharply to her side, as +though to check the rapid beating of her heart. For a moment she seemed +unable to speak, then, recovering herself with a visible effort, she +answered in a voice that trembled in spite of herself: + +“Mr. Merriman, isn’t it? Of course I remember. Won’t you come in? My +father will be back directly.” + +She was rapidly regaining self-control, and by the time Merriman had +presented Hilliard her manner had become almost normal. She led the way +to a comfortably furnished sitting-room looking out over the river. + +“Hilliard and I are on a motor launch tour across France,” Merriman +went on. “He worked from England down the coast to Bordeaux, where I +joined him, and we hope eventually to cross the country to the +Mediterranean and do the Riviera from the sea.” + +“How perfectly delightful,” Miss Coburn replied. “I envy you.” + +“Yes, it’s very jolly doing these rivers and canals,” Hilliard +interposed. “I have spent two or three holidays that way now, and it +has always been worth while.” + +As they chatted on in the pleasant room the girl seemed completely to +have recovered her composure, and yet Merriman could not but realize a +constraint in her manner, and a look of anxiety in her clear brown +eyes. That something was disturbing her there could be no doubt, and +that something appeared to be not unconnected with himself. But, he +reasoned, there was nothing connected with himself that could cause her +anxiety, unless it really was that matter of the number plates. He +became conscious of an almost overwhelming desire to share her trouble +whatever it might be, to let her understand that so far from willingly +causing a shadow to fall across her path there were few things he would +not do to give her pleasure; indeed, he began to long to take her in +his arms, to comfort her.... + +Presently a step in the hall announced Mr. Coburn’s return. “In here, +daddy,” his daughter called, and the steps approached the door. + +Whether by accident or design it happened that Miss Coburn was seated +directly opposite the door, while her two visitors were placed where +they were screened by the door itself from the view of anyone entering. +Hilliard, his eyes on the girl’s face as her father came in, +intercepted a glance of what seemed to be warning. His gaze swung round +to the new-comer, and here again he noticed a start of surprise and +anxiety as Mr. Coburn recognized his visitor. But in this case it was +so quickly over that had he not been watching intently he would have +missed it. However, slight though it was, it undoubtedly seemed to +confirm the other indications which pointed to the existence of some +secret in the life of these two, a secret shared apparently by the +good-looking driver and connected in some way with the lorry number +plates. + +Mr. Coburn was very polite, suave and polished as an accomplished man +of the world. But his manner was not really friendly; in fact, Hilliard +seemed to sense a veiled hostility. A few deft questions put him in +possession of the travelers ostensible plans, which he discussed with +some interest. + +“But,” he said to Hilliard, “I am afraid you are in error in coming up +this River Lesque. The canal you want to get from here is the Midi, it +enters the Mediterranean not far from Narbonne. But the connection from +this side is from the Garonne. You should have gone up-stream to +Langon, nearly forty miles above Bordeaux.” + +“We had hoped to go from still farther south,” Hilliard answered. “We +have penetrated a good many of the rivers, or rather I have, and we +came up here to see the sand-dunes and forests of the Landes, which are +new to me. A very desolate country, is it not?” + +Mr. Coburn agreed, continuing courteously: + +“I am glad at all events that your researches have brought you into our +neighborhood. We do not come across many visitors here, and it is +pleasant occasionally to speak one’s own language to someone outside +one’s household. If you will put up with pot-luck I am sure we should +both be glad—” he looked at his daughter”—if you would wait and take +some dinner with us now. Tomorrow you could explore the woods, which +are really worth seeing though monotonous, and if you are at all +interested I should like to show you our little works. But I warn you +the affair is my hobby, as well as my business for the time being, and +I am apt to assume others have as great an interest in it as myself. +You must not let me bore you.” + +Hilliard, suspicious and critically observant, wondered if he had not +interrupted a second rapid look between father and daughter. He could +not be sure, but at all events the girl hastened to second her father’s +invitation. + +“I hope you will wait for dinner,” she said. “As he says, we see so few +people, and particularly so few English, that it would be doing us a +kindness. I’m afraid that’s not very complimentary”—she laughed +brightly—“but it’s at least true.” + +They stayed and enjoyed themselves. Mr. Coburn proved himself an +entertaining host, and his conversation, though satirical, was worth +listening to. He and Hilliard talked, while Merriman, who was something +of a musician, tried over songs with Miss Coburn. Had it not been for +an uneasy feeling that they were to some extent playing the part of +spies, the evening would have been a delight to the visitors. + +Before they left for the launch it was arranged that they should stay +over the following day, lunch with the Coburns, and go for a tramp +through the forest in the afternoon. They took their leave with cordial +expressions of good will. + +“I say, Merriman,” Hilliard said eagerly as they strolled back through +the wood, “did you notice how your sudden appearance upset them both? +There can be no further doubt about it, there’s something. What it may +be I don’t know, but there is something.” + +“There’s nothing wrong at all events,” Merriman asserted doggedly. + +“Not wrong in the sense you mean, no,” Hilliard agreed quickly, “but +wrong for all that. Now that I have met Miss Coburn I can see that your +estimate of her was correct. But anyone with half an eye could see also +that she is frightened and upset about something. There’s something +wrong, and she wants a helping hand.” + +“Damn you, Hilliard, how you talk,” Merriman growled with a sudden wave +of unreasoning rage. “There’s nothing wrong and no need for our +meddling. Let us clear out and go on with our trip.” + +Hilliard smiled under cover of darkness. + +“And miss our lunch and excursion with the Coburns to-morrow?” he asked +maliciously. + +“You know well enough what I mean,” Merriman answered irritably. “Let’s +drop this childish tomfoolery about plots and mysteries and try to get +reasonably sane again. Here,” he went on fiercely as the other +demurred, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do if you like. I’ll have no more +suspicions or spying, but I’ll ask her if there is anything wrong: say +I thought there was from her manner and ask her the direct question. +Will that please you?” + +“And get well snubbed for your pains?” Hilliard returned. “You’ve tried +that once already. Why did you not persist in your inquiries about the +number plate when she told you about the driver’s shell-shock?” + +Merriman was silent for a few moments, then burst out: + +“Well, hang it all, man, what do you suggest?” + +During the evening an idea had occurred to Hilliard and he returned to +it now. + +“I’ll tell you,” he answered slowly, and instinctively he lowered his +voice. “I’ll tell you what we must do. We must see their steamer +loaded. I’ve been thinking it over. We must see what, if anything, goes +on board that boat beside pit-props.” + +Merriman only grunted in reply, but Hilliard, realizing his condition, +was satisfied. + +And Merriman, lying awake that night on the port locker of the +_Swallow_, began himself to realize his condition, and to understand +that his whole future life and happiness lay between the dainty hands +of Madeleine Coburn. + + + + +CHAPTER V. +THE VISIT OF THE “GIRONDIN” + + +Next morning found both the friends moody and engrossed with their own +thoughts. + +Merriman was lost in contemplation of the new factor which had come +into his life. It was not the first time he had fancied himself in +love. Like most men of his age he had had affairs of varying +seriousness, which in due time had run their course and died a natural +death. But this, he felt, was different. At last he believed he had met +the one woman, and the idea thrilled him with awe and exultation, and +filled his mind to the exclusion of all else. + +Hilliard’s preoccupation was different. He was considering in detail +his idea that if a close enough watch could be kept on the loading of +the syndicate’s ship it would at least settle the smuggling question. +He did not think that any article could be shipped in sufficient bulk +to make the trade pay, unnoticed by a skilfully concealed observer. +Even if the commodity were a liquid—brandy, for example—sent aboard +through a flexible pipe, the thing would be seen. + +But two unexpected difficulties had arisen since last night. Firstly, +they had made friends with the Coburns. Excursions with them were in +contemplation, and one had actually been arranged for that very day. +While in the neighborhood they had been asked virtually to make the +manager’s house their headquarters, and it was evidently expected that +the two parties should see a good deal of each other. Under these +circumstances how were the friends to get away to watch the loading of +the boat? + +And then it occurred to Hilliard that here, perhaps, was evidence of +design; that this very difficulty had been deliberately caused by Mr. +Coburn with the object of keeping himself and Merriman under +observation and rendering them harmless. This, he recognized, was +guesswork, but still it might be the truth. + +He racked his brains to find some way of meeting the difficulty, and at +last, after considering many plans, he thought he saw his way. They +would as soon as possible take leave of their hosts and return to +Bordeaux, ostensibly to resume their trip east. From there they would +come out to the clearing by road, and from the observation post they +had already used keep a close eye on the arrival of the ship and +subsequent developments. At night they might be even able to hide on +the wharf itself. In any case they could hardly fail to see if anything +other than pit-props was loaded. + +So far, so good, but there was a second and more formidable difficulty. +Would Merriman consent to this plan and agree to help? Hilliard was +doubtful. That his friend had so obviously fallen in love with this +Madeleine Coburn was an unexpected and unfortunate complication. He +could, of course, play on the string that the girl was in danger and +wanted help, but he had already used that with disappointing results. +However, he could see nothing for it but to do his best to talk +Merriman round. + +Accordingly, when they were smoking their after-breakfast pipes, he +broached the subject. But as he had feared, his friend would have none +of it. + +“I tell you I won’t do anything of the kind,” he said angrily. “Here we +come, two strangers, poking our noses into what does not concern us, +and we are met with kindness and hospitality and invited to join a +family party. Good Lord, Hilliard, I can’t believe that it is really +you that suggests it! You surely don’t mean that you believe that the +Coburns are smuggling brandy?” + +“Of course not, you old fire-eater,” Hilliard answered good-humoredly, +“but I do believe, and so must you, that there is something queer going +on. We want to be sure there is nothing sinister behind it. Surely, old +man, you will help me in that?” + +“If I thought there was anything wrong you know I’d help you,” Merriman +returned, somewhat mollified by the other’s attitude. “But I don’t. It +is quite absurd to suggest the Coburns are engaged in anything illegal, +and if you grant that your whole case falls to the ground.” + +Hilliard saw that for the moment at all events he could get no more. He +therefore dropped the subject and they conversed on other topics until +it was time to go ashore. + +Lunch with their new acquaintances passed pleasantly, and after it the +two friends went with Mr. Coburn to see over the works. Hilliard +thought it better to explain that they had seen something of them on +the previous day, but notwithstanding this assurance Mr. Coburn +insisted on their going over the whole place again. He showed them +everything in detail, and when the inspection was complete both men +felt more than ever convinced that the business was genuine, and that +nothing was being carried on other than the ostensible trade. Mr. +Coburn, also, gave them his views on the enterprise, and these seemed +so eminently reasonable and natural that Hilliard’s suspicions once +more became dulled, and he began to wonder if their host’s peculiar +manner could not have been due to some cause other than that he had +imagined. + +“There is not so much money in the pit-props as I had hoped,” Mr. +Coburn explained. “When we started here the Baltic trade, which was, of +course, the big trade before the war, had not revived. Now we find the +Baltic competition growing keener, and our margin of profit is +dwindling. We are handicapped also by having only a one-way traffic. +Most of the Baltic firms exporting pit-props have an import trade in +coal as well. This gives them double freights and pulls down their +overhead costs. But it wouldn’t pay us to follow their example. If we +ran coal it could only be to Bordeaux, and that would take up more of +our boat’s time than it would be worth.” + +Hilliard nodded and Mr. Coburn went on: + +“On the other hand, we are doing better in what I may call ‘sideshows.’ +We’re getting quite a good price for our fire-wood, and selling more +and more of it. Three large firms in Bordeaux have put in wood-burning +fireboxes and nothing else, and two others are thinking of following +suit. Then I am considering two developments; in fact, I have decided +on the first. We are going to put in an air compressor in our +engine-room, and use pneumatic tools in the forest for felling and +lopping. I estimate that will save us six men. Then I think there would +be a market for pine paving blocks for streets. I haven’t gone into +this yet, but I’m doing so.” + +“That sounds very promising,” Hilliard answered. “I don’t know much +about it, but I believe soft wood blocks are considered better than +hard.” + +“They wear more evenly, I understand. I’m trying to persuade the Paris +authorities to try a piece of it, and if that does well it might +develop into a big thing. Indeed, I can imagine our giving up the +pit-props altogether in the future.” + +After a time Miss Coburn joined them, and, the Ford car being brought +out, the party set off on their excursion. They visited a part of the +wood where the trees were larger than near the sawmill, and had a +pleasant though uneventful afternoon. The evening they spent as before +at the Coburns’ house. + +Next day the friends invited their hosts to join them in a trip up the +river. Hilliard tactfully interested the manager in the various +“gadgets” he had fitted up in the launch, and Merriman’s dream of +making tea with Miss Coburn materialized. The more he saw of the +gentle, brown-eyed girl, the more he found his heart going out to her, +and the more it was borne in on him that life without her was becoming +a prospect more terrible than he could bring himself to contemplate. + +They went up-stream on the flood tide for some twenty miles, until the +forest thinned away and they came on vineyards. There they went ashore, +and it was not until the shades of evening were beginning to fall that +they arrived back at the clearing. + +As they swung round the bend in sight of the wharf Mr. Coburn made an +exclamation. + +“Hallo!” he cried. “There’s the _Girondin_. She has made a good run. We +weren’t expecting her for another three or four hours.” + +At the wharf lay a vessel of about 300 tons burden, with bluff, rounded +bows sitting high up out of the water, a long, straight waist, and a +bridge and cluster of deckhouses at the stern. + +“Our motor ship,” Mr. Coburn explained with evident pride. “We had her +specially designed for carrying the pit-props, and also for this river. +She only draws eight feet. You must come on board and have a look over +her.” + +This was of all things what Hilliard most desired. He recognized that +if he was allowed to inspect her really thoroughly, it would finally +dispel any lingering suspicion he might still harbor that the syndicate +was engaged in smuggling operations. The two points on which that +suspicion had been founded—the absence of return cargoes and the +locality of the French end of the enterprise—were not, he now saw, +really suspicious at all. Mr. Coburn’s remark met the first of these +points, and showed that he was perfectly alive to the handicap of a +oneway traffic. The matter had not been material when the industry was +started, but now, owing to the recovery of the Baltic trade after the +war, it was becoming important, and the manager evidently realized that +it might easily grow sufficiently to kill the pit-prop trade +altogether. And the locality question was even simpler. The syndicate +had chosen the pine forests of the Landes for their operations because +they wanted timber close to the sea. On the top of these considerations +came the lack of secrecy about the ship. It could only mean that there +really was nothing aboard to conceal. + +On reaching the wharf all four crossed the gangway to the deck of the +_Girondin_. At close quarters she seemed quite a big boat. In the bows +was a small forecastle, containing quarters for the crew of five men as +well as the oil tanks and certain stores. Then amidships was a long +expanse of holds, while aft were the officers’ cabins and tiny +mess-room, galley, navigating bridge, and last, but not least, the +engine-room with its set of Diesel engines. She seemed throughout a +well-appointed boat, no money having apparently been spared to make her +efficient and comfortable. + +“She carries between six and seven thousand props every trip,” Mr. +Coburn told them, “that is, without any deck cargo. I dare say in +summer we could put ten thousand on her if we tried, but she is rather +shallow in the draught for it, and we don’t care to run any risks. +Hallo, captain! Back again?” he broke off, as a man in a blue pilot +cloth coat and a peaked cap emerged from below. + +The newcomer was powerfully built and would have been tall, but for +rather rounded shoulders and a stoop. He was clean shaven, with a heavy +jaw and thin lips which were compressed into a narrow line. His +expression was vindictive as well as somewhat crafty, and he looked a +man who would not be turned from his purpose by nice points of morality +or conscience. + +Though Hilliard instinctively noted these details, they did not +particularly excite his interest. But his interest was nevertheless +keenly aroused. For he saw the man, as his gaze fell on himself and +Merriman, give a sudden start, and then flash a quick, questioning +glance at Mr. Coburn. The action was momentary, but it was enough to +bring back with a rush all Hilliard’s suspicions. Surely, he thought, +there must be _something_ if the sight of a stranger upsets all these +people in this way. + +But he had not time to ponder the problem. The captain instantly +recovered himself, pulled off his cap to Miss Coburn and shook hands +all round, Mr. Coburn introducing the visitors. + +“Good trip, captain?” the manager went on. “You’re ahead of schedule.” + +“Not so bad,” the newcomer admitted in a voice and manner singularly +cultivated for a man in his position. “We had a good wind behind us +most of the way.” + +They chatted for a few moments, then started on their tour of +inspection. Though Hilliard was once again keenly on the alert, the +examination, so far as he could see, left nothing to be desired. They +visited every part of the vessel, from the forecastle storerooms to the +tunnel of the screw shaft, and from the chart-house to the bottom of +the hold, and every question either of the friends asked was replied to +fully and without hesitation. + +That evening, like the preceding, they passed with the Coburns. The +captain and the engineer—a short, thick-set man named Bulla—strolled up +with them and remained for dinner, but left shortly afterwards on the +plea of matters to attend to on board. The friends stayed on, playing +bridge, and it was late when they said good-night and set out to walk +back to the launch. + +During the intervals of play Hilliard’s mind had been busy with the +mystery which he believed existed in connection with the syndicate, and +he had decided that to try to satisfy his curiosity he would go down to +the wharf that night and see if any interesting operations went on +under cover of darkness. The idea of a midnight loading of contraband +no longer appealed to his imagination, but vaguely he wished to make +sure that no secret activities were in progress. + +He was at least certain that none had taken place up to the +present—that Mr. Coburn was personally concerned in, at all events. +From the moment they had first sighted the ship until they had left the +manager’s house at the conclusion of the game of bridge, not five +minutes ago, he had been in Mr. Coburn’s company. Next day it was +understood they were to meet again, so that if the manager wished to +carry out any secret operations they could only be done during the +night. + +Accordingly when they reached the launch he turned to Merriman. + +“You go ahead, old man. I’m going to have a look round before turning +in. Don’t wait up for me. Put out the light when you’ve done with it +and leave the companion unlatched so that I can follow you in.” + +Merriman grunted disapprovingly, but offered no further objection. He +clambered on board the launch and disappeared below, while Hilliard, +remaining in the collapsible boat, began to row silently up-stream +towards the wharf. + +The night was dark and still, but warm. The moon had not risen, and the +sky was overcast, blotting out even the small light of the stars. There +was a faint whisper of air currents among the trees, and the subdued +murmur of the moving mass of water was punctuated by tiny splashes and +gurgles as little eddies formed round the stem of the boat or wavelets +broke against the banks. Hilliard’s eyes had by this time become +accustomed to the gloom, and he could dimly distinguish the serrated +line of the trees against the sky on either side of him, and later, the +banks of the clearing, with the faint, ghostly radiance from the +surface of the water. + +He pulled on with swift, silent strokes, and presently the dark mass of +the _Girondin_ loomed in sight. The ship, longer than the wharf, +projected for several feet above and below it. Hilliard turned his boat +inshore with the object of passing between the hull and the bank and so +reaching the landing steps. But as he rounded the vessel’s stern he saw +that her starboard side was lighted up, and he ceased rowing, sitting +motionless and silently holding water, till the boat began to drift +back into the obscurity down-stream. The wharf was above the level of +his head, and he could only see, appearing over its edge, the tops of +the piles of pit-props. These, as well as the end of the ship’s +navigating bridge and the gangway, were illuminated by, he imagined, a +lamp on the side of one of the deckhouses. But everything was very +still, and the place seemed deserted. + +Hilliard’s intention had been to land on the wharf and, crouching +behind the props, await events. But now he doubted if he could reach +his hiding place without coming within the radius of the lamp and so +exposing himself to the view of anyone who might be on the watch on +board. He recollected that the port or river side of the ship was in +darkness, and he thought it might therefore be better if he could get +directly aboard there from the boat. + +Having removed his shoes he rowed gently round the stern and examined +the side for a possible way up. The ship being light forward was +heavily down in the stern, and he found the lower deck was not more +than six or seven feet above water level. It occurred to him that if he +could get hold of the mooring rope pawls he might be able to climb +aboard. But this after a number of trials he found impossible, as in +the absence of someone at the oars to steady the boat, the latter +always drifted away from the hull before he could grasp what he wanted. + +He decided he must risk passing through the lighted area, and, having +for the third time rowed round the stern, he brought the boat up as +close to the hull as possible until he reached the wharf. Then passing +in between the two rows of piles and feeling his way in the dark, he +made the painter fast to a diagonal, so that the boat would lie hidden +should anyone examine the steps with a light. The hull lay touching the +vertical piles, and Hilliard, edging along a waling to the front of the +wharf, felt with his foot through the darkness for the stern belting. +The tide was low and he found this was not more than a foot above the +timber on which he stood. He could now see the deck light, an electric +bulb on the side of the captain’s cabin, and it showed him the top of +the taffrail some little distance above the level of his eyes. Taking +his courage in both hands and stepping upon the belting, he succeeded +in grasping the taffrail. In a moment he was over it and on deck, and +in another moment he had slipped round the deckhouse and out of the +light of the lamp. There he stopped, listening for an alarm, but the +silence remained unbroken, and he believed he had been unobserved. + +He recalled the construction of the ship. The lower deck, on which he +was standing, ran across the stern and formed a narrow passage some +forty feet long at each side of the central cabin. This cabin contained +the galley and mess room as well as the first officer’s quarters. +Bulla’s stateroom, Hilliard remembered, was down below beside the +engine-room. + +From the lower deck two ladders led to the bridge deck at the forward +end of which was situated the captain’s stateroom. Aft of this building +most of the remaining bridge deck was taken up by two lifeboats, +canvas-covered and housed in chocks. On the top of the captain’s cabin +was the bridge and chart-house, reached by two ladders which passed up +at either side of the cabin. + +Hilliard, reconnoitering, crept round to the port side of the ship. The +lower deck was in complete darkness, and he passed the range of cabins +and silently ascended the steps to the deck above. Here also it was +dark, but a faint light shone from the window of the captain’s cabin. +Stealthily Hilliard tiptoed to the porthole. The glass was hooked back, +but a curtain hung across the opening. Fortunately, it was not drawn +quite tight to one side, and he found that by leaning up against the +bridge ladder he could see into the interior. A glance showed him that +the room was empty. + +As he paused irresolutely, wondering what he should do next, he heard a +door open. There was a step on the deck below, and the door slammed +sharply. Someone was coming to the ladder at the top of which he stood. + +Like a shadow Hilliard slipped aft, and, as he heard the unknown +ascending the steps, he looked round for cover. The starboard boat and +a narrow strip of deck were lighted up, but the port boat was in +shadow. He could distinguish it merely as a dark blot on the sky. +Recognizing that he must be hidden should the port deck light be turned +on, he reached the boat, felt his way round the stern, and, crouching +down, crept as far underneath it as he could. There he remained +motionless. + +The newcomer began slowly to pace the deck, and the aroma of a good +cigar floated in the still air. Up and down he walked with leisurely, +unhurried footsteps. He kept to the dark side of the ship, and +Hilliard, though he caught glimpses of the red point of the cigar each +time the other reached the stern, could not tell who he was. + +Presently other footsteps announced the approach of a second +individual, and in a moment Hilliard heard the captain’s voice. + +“Where are you, Bulla?” + +“Here,” came in the engineer’s voice from the first-comer. The captain +approached and the two men fell to pacing up and down, talking in low +tones. Hilliard could catch the words when the speakers were near the +stern, but lost them when they went forward to the break of the poop. + +“Confound that man Coburn,” he heard Captain Beamish mutter. “What on +earth is keeping him all this time?” + +“The young visitors, doubtless,” rumbled Bulla with a fat chuckle, “our +friends of the evening.” + +“Yes, confound them, too,” growled Beamish, who seemed to be in an +unenviable frame of mind. “Damned nuisance their coming round. I should +like to know what they are after.” + +“Nothing particular, I should fancy. Probably out doing some kind of a +holiday.” + +They passed round the deckhouse and Hilliard could not hear the reply. +When they returned Captain Beamish was speaking. + +“—thinks it would about double our profits,” Hilliard heard him say. +“He suggests a second depot on the other side, say at Swansea. That +would look all right on account of the South Wales coalfields.” + +“But we’re getting all we can out of the old hooker as it is,” Bulla +objected. “I don’t see how she could do another trip.” + +“Archer suggests a second boat.” + +“Oh.” The engineer paused, then went on: “But that’s no new suggestion. +That was proposed before ever the thing was started.” + +“I know, but the circumstances have changed. Now we should—” + +Again they passed out of earshot, and Hilliard took the opportunity to +stretch his somewhat cramped limbs. He was considerably interested by +what he had heard. The phrase Captain Beamish had used in reference to +the proposed depôt at Swansea—“it would look all right on account of +the coalfields”—was suggestive. Surely that was meaningless unless +there was some secret activity—unless the pit-prop trade was only a +blind to cover some more lucrative and probably more sinister +undertaking? At first sight it seemed so, but he had not time to think +it out then. The men were returning. + +Bulla was speaking this time, and Hilliard soon found he was telling a +somewhat improper story. As the two men disappeared round the deckhouse +he heard their hoarse laughter ring out. Then the captain cried: “That +you, Coburn?” The murmur of voices grew louder and more confused and +immediately sank. A door opened, then closed, and once more silence +reigned. + +To Hilliard it seemed that here was a chance which he must not miss. +Coming out from his hiding place, he crept stealthily along the deck in +the hope that he might find out where the men had gone, and learn +something from their conversation. + +The captain’s cabin was the probable meeting place, and Hilliard +slipped silently back to the window through which he had glanced +before. As he approached he heard a murmur of voices, and he cautiously +leaned back against the bridge ladder and peeped in round the partly +open curtain. + +Three of the four seats the room contained were now occupied. The +captain, engineer, and Mr. Coburn sat round the central table, which +bore a bottle of whisky, a soda siphon and glasses, as well as a box of +cigars. The men seemed preoccupied and a little anxious. The captain +was speaking. + +“And have you found out anything about them?” he asked Mr. Coburn. + +“Only what I have been able to pick up from their own conversation,” +the manager answered. “I wrote Morton asking him to make inquiries +about them, but of course there hasn’t been time yet for a reply. From +their own showing one of them is Seymour Merriman, junior partner of +Edwards & Merriman, Gracechurch Street, Wine Merchants. That’s the +dark, square-faced one—the one who was here before. The other is a man +called Hilliard. He is a clever fellow, and holds a good position in +the Customs Department. He has had this launch for some years, and +apparently has done the same kind of trip through the Continental +rivers on previous holidays. But I could not find out whether Merriman +had ever accompanied him before.” + +“But you don’t think they smell a rat?” + +“I don’t think so,” he said slowly, “but I’m not at all sure. Merriman, +we believe, noticed the number plate that day. I told you, you +remember. Henri is sure that he did, and Madeleine thinks so too. It’s +just a little queer his coming back. But I’ll swear they’ve seen +nothing suspicious this time.” + +“You can’t yourself account for his coming back?” + +Again Mr. Coburn hesitated. + +“Not with any certainty,” he said at last, then with a grimace he +continued: “But I’m a little afraid that it’s perhaps Madeleine.” + +Bulla, the engineer, made a sudden gesture. + +“_I_ thought so,” he exclaimed. “Even in the little I saw of them this +evening I thought there was something in the wind. I guess that +accounts for the whole thing. What do you say, skipper?” + +The big man nodded. + +“I should think so,” he admitted, with a look of relief. “I think it’s +a mare’s nest, Coburn. I don’t believe we need worry.” + +“I’m not so sure,” Coburn answered slowly. “I don’t think we need worry +about Merriman, but I’m hanged if I know what to think about Hilliard. +He’s pretty observant, and there’s not much about this place that he +hasn’t seen at one time or another.” + +“All the better for us, isn’t it?” Bulla queried. + +“So far as it goes, yes,” the manager agreed, “and I’ve stuffed him +with yarns about costs and about giving up the props and going in for +paving blocks and so on which I think he swallowed. But why should he +want to know what we are doing? What possible interest can the place +have for him—unless he suspects?” + +“They haven’t done anything suspicious themselves?” + +“Not that I have seen.” + +“Never caught them trying to pump any of the men?” + +“Never.” + +Captain Beamish moved impatiently. + +“I don’t think we need worry,” he repeated with a trace of aggression +in his manner. “Let’s get on to business. Have you heard from Archer?” + +Mr. Coburn drew a paper from his pocket, while Hilliard instinctively +bent forward, believing he was at last about to learn something which +would throw a light on these mysterious happenings. But alas for him! +Just as the manager began to speak he heard steps on the gangway which +passed on board and a man began to climb the starboard ladder to the +upper deck. + +Hilliard’s first thought was to return to his hiding place under the +boat, but he could not bring himself to go so far away from the center +of interest, and before he had consciously thought out the situation he +found himself creeping silently up the ladder to the bridge. There he +believed he would be safe from observation while remaining within +earshot of the cabin, and if anyone followed him up the ladder he could +creep round on the roof of the cabin to the back of the chart-house, +out of sight. + +The newcomer tapped at the captain’s door and, after a shout of “Come +in,” opened it. There was a moment’s silence, then Coburn’s voice said: + +“We were just talking of you, Henri. The skipper wants to know—” and +the door closed. + +Hilliard was not long in slipping back to his former position at the +porthole. + +“By Jove!” Bulla was saying. “And to think that two years ago I was +working a little coaster at twenty quid a month! And you, Coburn; two +years ago you weren’t much better fixed, if as well, eh?” + +Coburn ignored the question. + +“It’s good, but it’s not good enough,” he declared. “This thing can’t +run for ever. If we go on too long somebody will tumble to it. What we +want is to try to get our piles made and close it down before anything +happens. We ought to have that other ship running. We could double our +income with another ship and another depot. And Swansea seems to me the +place.” + +“Bulla and I were just talking of that before you came aboard,” the +captain answered. “You know we have considered that again and again, +and we have always come to the conclusion that we are pushing the thing +strongly enough.” + +“Our organization has improved since then. We can do more now with less +risk. It ought to be reconsidered. Will you go into the thing, +skipper?” + +“Certainly. I’ll bring it before our next meeting. But I won’t promise +to vote for it. In our business it’s not difficult to kill the goose, +etcetera.” + +The talk drifted to other matters, while Hilliard, thrilled to the +marrow, remained crouching motionless beneath the porthole, +concentrating all his attention on the conversation in the hope of +catching some word or phrase which might throw further light on the +mysterious enterprise under discussion. While the affair itself was +being spoken of he had almost ceased to be aware of his surroundings, +so eagerly had he listened to what was being said, but now that the +talk had turned to more ordinary subjects he began more or less +subconsciously to take stock of his own position. + +He realized in the first place that he was in very real danger. A quick +movement either of the men in the cabin or of some member of the crew +might lead to his discovery, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that +he might pay the forfeit for his curiosity with his life. He could +imagine the manner in which the “accident” would be staged. Doubtless +his body, showing all the appearance of death from drowning, would be +found in the river with alongside it the upturned boat as evidence of +the cause of the disaster. + +And if he should die, his secret would die with him. Should he not then +be content with what he had learned and clear out while he could, so as +to ensure his knowledge being preserved? He felt that he ought, and yet +the desire to remain in the hope of doing still better was +overpowering. But as he hesitated the power of choice was taken away. +The men in the cabin were making a move. Coburn finished his whisky, +and he and Henri rose to their feet. + +“Well,” the former said, “There’s one o’clock. We must be off.” + +The others stood up also, and at the same moment Hilliard crept once +more up the ladder to the bridge and crouched down in the shadow of the +chart-house. Hardly was he there when the men came out of the cabin to +the deck beneath the bridge, then with a brief exchange of +“Good-nights,” Coburn and the lorry driver passed down the ladder, +crossed the gangway and disappeared behind a stack of pit-props on the +wharf. Bulla with a grunted “’Night” descended the port steps and +Hilliard heard the door leading below open and shut; the starboard deck +lamp snapped off, and finally the captain’s door shut and a key turned +in the lock. Some fifteen minutes later the faint light from the +porthole vanished and all was dark and silent. + +But for more than an hour Hilliard remained crouching motionless on the +bridge, fearing lest some sound that he might make in his descent +should betray him if the captain should still be awake. Then, a faint +light from the rising moon appearing towards the east, he crept from +his perch, and crossing the gangway, reached the wharf and presently +his boat. + +Ten minutes later he was on board the launch. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +A CHANGE OF VENUE + + +Still making as little noise as possible, Hilliard descended to the +cabin and turned in. Merriman was asleep, and the quiet movement of the +other did not awaken him. + +But Hilliard was in no frame of mind for repose. He was too much +thrilled by the adventure through which he had passed, and the +discovery which he had made. He therefore put away the idea of sleep, +and instead gave himself up to consideration of the situation. + +He began by trying to marshal the facts he had already learned. In the +first place, there was the great outstanding point that his suspicions +were well founded, that some secret and mysterious business was being +carried on by this syndicate. Not only, therefore, was he justified in +all he had done up to the present, but it was clear he could not leave +the matter where it stood. Either he must continue his investigations +further, or he must report to headquarters what he had overheard. + +Next, it seemed likely that the syndicate consisted of at least six +persons; Captain Beamish (probably from his personality the leader), +Bulla, Coburn, Henri, and the two men to whom reference had been made, +Archer, who had suggested forming the depot at Swansea, and Morton, who +had been asked to make inquiries as to himself and Merriman. Madeleine +Coburn’s name had also been mentioned, and Hilliard wondered whether +she could be a member. Like his companion he could not believe that she +would be willingly involved, but on the other hand Coburn had stated +that she had reported her suspicion that Merriman had noticed the +changed number plate. Hilliard could come to no conclusion about her, +but it remained clear that there were certainly four members, and +probably six or more. + +But if so, it followed that the operations must be on a fairly large +scale. Educated men did not take up a risky and presumably illegal +enterprise unless the prize was worth having. It was unlikely that +£1,000 a year would compensate any one of them for the risk. But that +would mean a profit of from £4,000 to £6,000 a year. Hilliard realized +that he was here on shaky ground, though the balance of probability was +in his favor. + +It also seemed certain that the whole pit-prop business was a sham, a +mere blind to cover those other operations from which the money came. +But when Hilliard came to ask himself what those operations were, he +found himself up against a more difficult proposition. + +His original brandy smuggling idea recurred to him with renewed force, +and as he pondered it he saw that there really was something to be said +for it. Three distinct considerations were consistent with the theory. + +There was first of all the size of the fraud. A theft of £4,000 to +£6,000 or more a year implied as victim a large corporation. The sum +would be too big a proportion of the income of a moderate-sized firm +for the matter to remain undiscovered, and, other things being equal, +the larger the corporation the more difficult to locate the leakage. + +But what larger corporation was there than a nation, and what so easy +to defraud as a government? And how could a government be more easily +defrauded than by smuggling? Here again Hilliard recognized he was only +theorizing; still the point had a certain weight. + +The second consideration was also inconclusive. It was that all the +people who, he had so far learned, were involved were engaged in +transport operations. The ostensible trade also, the blind under which +the thing was worked, was a transport trade. If brandy smuggling were +in progress something of precisely this kind would have to be devised. +In fact anything more suitable than the pit-prop business would be hard +to discover. + +The third point he had thought of before. If brandy were to be +smuggled, no better locality could have been found for the venture than +this country round about Bordeaux. As one of the staple products of the +district, brandy could be obtained here, possibly more easily than +anywhere else. + +The converse argument was equally inconclusive. What hypothesis other +than that of brandy smuggling could meet the facts? Hilliard could not +think of any, but he recognized that his failure did not prove that +none existed. + +On the other hand, in spite of these considerations, he had to admit +that he had seen nothing which in the slightest degree supported the +theory, nor had he heard anything which could not equally well have +referred to something else. + +But whatever their objective, he felt sure that the members of the +syndicate were desperate men. They were evidently too far committed to +hesitate over fresh crime to keep their secret. If he wished to pursue +his investigations, it was up to him to do so without arousing their +suspicions. + +As he pondered over the problem of how this was to be done he became +more and more conscious of its difficulty. Such an inquiry to a trained +detective could not be easy, but to him, an amateur at the game, it +seemed well-nigh impossible. And particularly he found himself +handicapped by the intimate terms with the Coburns on which he and +Merriman found themselves. For instance, that very morning an excursion +had been arranged to an old chateau near Bordeaux. How could he refuse +to go? And if he went how could he watch the loading of the _Girondin?_ + +He had suspected before that the Coburns’ hospitality was due to +something other than friendliness, and now he was sure of it. No longer +had he any doubt that the object was to get him out of the way, to +create that very obstacle to investigation which it had created. And +here again Miss Coburn had undoubtedly lent herself to the plot. + +He was not long in coming to the conclusion that the sooner he and +Merriman took leave of the Coburns the better. Besides this question of +handicap, he was afraid with so astute a man as Coburn he would sooner +or later give himself away. + +The thought led to another. Would it not be wise to keep Merriman in +ignorance of what he had learned at least for the present? Merriman was +an open, straightforward chap, transparently honest in all his +dealings. Could he dissemble sufficiently to hide his knowledge from +his hosts? In particular could he deceive Madeleine? Hilliard doubted +it. He felt that under the special circumstances his friend’s +discretion could not be relied on. At all events Merriman’s appearance +of ignorance would be more convincing if it were genuine. + +On the whole, Hilliard decided, it would be better not to tell him. Let +them once get away from the neighborhood, and he could share his +discoveries and they could together decide what was to be done. But +first, to get away. + +Accordingly next morning he broached the subject. He had expected his +friend would strenuously oppose any plan involving separation from +Madeleine Coburn, but to his relief Merriman immediately agreed with +him. + +“I’ve been thinking we ought to clear out too,” he declared +ungrammatically. “It’s not good enough to be accepting continuous +hospitality which you can’t return.” + +Hilliard assented carelessly, remarked that if they started the +following morning they could reach the Riviera by the following Friday, +and let it go at that. He did not refer again to the subject until they +reached the Coburns’ door, when he asked quickly: “By the way, will you +tell them we’re leaving tomorrow or shall I?” + +“I will,” said Merriman, to his relief. + +The _Girondin_ was loading props as they set out in the Ford car, and +the work was still in progress on their return in the late afternoon. +Mr. Coburn had excused himself from joining the party on the ground of +business, but Captain Beamish had taken his place, and had proved +himself a surprisingly entertaining companion. At the old chateau they +had a pleasant alfresco lunch, after which Captain Beamish took a +number of photographs of the party with his pocket Kodak. + +Merriman’s announcement of his and Hilliard’s impending departure had +been met with a chorus of regrets, but though these sounded hearty +enough, Hilliard noticed that no definite invitation to stay longer was +given. + +The friends dined with the Coburns for the last time that evening. Mr. +Coburn was a little late for the meal, saying he had waited on the +wharf to see the loading completed, and that all the cargo was now +aboard, and that the _Girondin_ would drop down to sea on the flood +tide in the early morning. + +“We shall have her company so far,” Hilliard remarked. “We must start +early, too, so as to make Bordeaux before dark.” + +When the time came to say good-bye, Mr. Coburn and his daughter went +down to the launch with their departing visitors. Hilliard was careful +to monopolize the manager’s attention, so as to give Merriman his +innings with the girl. His friend did not tell him what passed between +them, but the parting was evidently affecting, as Merriman retired to +his locker practically in silence. + +Five o’clock next morning saw the friends astir, and their first sight +on reaching the deck was the _Girondin_ coming down-stream. They +exchanged hand waves with Captain Beamish on the bridge, then, swinging +their own craft, followed in the wake of the other. A couple of hours +later they were at sea. + +Once again they were lucky in their weather. A sun of molten glory +poured down from the clearest of blue skies, burnishing a track of +intolerable brilliance across the water. Hardly a ripple appeared on +the smooth surface, though they rose and fell gently to the flat ocean +swell. They were running up the coast about four miles out, and except +for the _Girondin_, now almost hull down to the north-west, they had +the sea to themselves. It was hot enough to make the breeze caused by +the launch’s progress pleasantly cool, and both men lay smoking on the +deck, lazily watching the water and enjoying the easy motion. Hilliard +had made the wheel fast, and reached up every now and then to give it a +slight turn. + +“Jolly, I call this,” he exclaimed, as he lay down again after one of +these interruptions. “Jolly sun, jolly sea, jolly everything, isn’t +it?” + +“Rather. Even a landlubber like me can appreciate it. But you don’t +often have it like this, I bet.” + +“Oh, I don’t know,” Hilliard answered absently, and then, swinging +round and facing his friend, he went on: + +“I say, Merriman, I’ve something to tell you that will interest you, +but I’m afraid it won’t please you.” + +Merriman laughed contentedly. + +“You arouse my curiosity anyway,” he declared. “Get on and let’s hear +it.” + +Hilliard answered quietly, but he felt excitement arising in him as he +thought of the disclosure he was about to make. + +“First of all,” he began, speaking more and more earnestly as he +proceeded, “I have to make you an apology. I quite deliberately +deceived you up at the clearing, or rather I withheld from you +knowledge that I ought to have shared. I had a reason for it, but I +don’t know if you’ll agree that it was sufficient.” + +“Tell me.” + +“You remember the night before last when I rowed up to the wharf after +we had left the Coburns? You thought my suspicions were absurd or +worse. Well, they weren’t. I made a discovery.” + +Merriman sat up eagerly, and listened intently as the other recounted +his adventure aboard the _Girondin_. Hilliard kept nothing back; even +the reference to Madeleine he repeated as nearly word for word as +possible, finally giving a bowdlerized version of his reasons for +keeping his discoveries to himself while they remained in the +neighborhood. + +Merriman received the news with a dismay approaching positive horror. +He had but one thought—Madeleine. How did the situation affect her? Was +she in trouble? In danger? Was she so entangled that she could not get +out? Never for a moment did it enter his head that she could be +willingly involved. + +“My goodness! Hilliard,” he cried hoarsely, “whatever does it all mean? +Surely it can’t be criminal? They,”—he hesitated slightly, and Hilliard +read in a different pronoun—“they never would join in such a thing.” + +Hilliard took the bull by the horns. + +“That _Miss_ Coburn would take part in anything shady I don’t for a +moment believe,” he declared, “but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be so sure of +her father.” + +Merriman shook his head and groaned. + +“I know you’re right,” he admitted to the other’s amazement. “I saw—I +didn’t mean to tell you, but now I may as well. That first evening, +when we went up to call, you probably don’t remember, but after he had +learned who we were he turned round to pull up a chair. He looked at +you; I saw his face in a mirror. Hilliard, it was the face of a—I was +going to say, a devil—with hate and fear. But the look passed +instantly. When he turned round he was smiling. It was so quick I half +thought I was mistaken. But I know I wasn’t.” + +“I saw fear on his face when he recognized you that same evening,” +Hilliard replied. “We needn’t blink at it, Merriman. Whether willingly +or unwillingly, Mr. Coburn’s in the thing. That’s as certain as that +we’re here.” + +“But what is it? Have you any theory?” + +“No, not really. There was that one of brandy smuggling that I +mentioned before. I suggest it because I can suggest nothing else, but +I admit I saw no evidence of it.” + +Merriman was silent for several minutes as the boat slid over the +smooth water. Then with a change of manner he turned once more to his +friend. + +“I suppose we couldn’t leave it alone? Is it our business after all?” + +“If we don’t act we become accessories, and besides we leave that girl +to fight her own battles.” + +Merriman clenched his fists and once more silence reigned. Presently he +spoke again: + +“You had something in your mind?” + +“I think we must do one of two things. Either continue our +investigations until we learn what is going on, or else clear out and +tell the police what we have learned.” + +Merriman made a gesture of dissent. + +“Not that, not that,” he cried. “Anything rather than the police.” + +Hilliard gazed vacantly on the long line of the coast. + +“Look here, old man,” he said, “Wouldn’t it be better if we discussed +this thing quite directly? Don’t think I mean to be impertinent—God +knows I don’t—but am I not right in thinking you want to save Miss +Coburn all annoyance, and her father also, for her sake?” + +“We needn’t talk about it again,” Merriman said in a hard voice, +looking intently at the stem of the mast, “but if it’s necessary to +make things clear, I want to marry her if she’ll have me.” + +“I thought so, old man, and I can only say—the best of luck! As you +say, then, we mustn’t call in the police, and as we can’t leave the +thing, we must go on with our own inquiry. I would suggest that if we +find out their scheme is something illegal, we see Mr. Coburn and give +him the chance to get out before we lodge our information.” + +“I suppose that is the only way,” Merriman said doubtfully. After a +pause Hilliard went on: + +“I’m not very clear, but I’m inclined to think we can do no more good +here at present. I think we should try the other end.” + +“The other end?” + +“Yes, the unloading of the ship and the disposal of the pit-props. You +see, the first thing we’re up against is that these people are anything +but fools, and the second is that they already suspect us and will keep +a watch on us. A hundred to one they make inquiries and see that we +really do go through the Canal du Midi to the Riviera. We can’t hang +about Bordeaux without their knowing it.” + +“That’s true.” + +“Of course,” Hilliard went on, “we can see now we made a frightful mess +of things by calling on the Coburns or letting Mr. Coburn know we were +about, but at the time it seemed the wisest thing.” + +“It was the only thing,” Merriman asserted positively. “We didn’t know +then there was anything wrong, and besides, how could we have hidden +the launch?” + +“Well, it’s done anyway. We needn’t worry about it now, except that it +seems to me that for the same reason the launch has served its purpose. +We can’t use it here because the people at the clearing know it, and we +can’t use it at the unloading end, for all on board the _Girondin_ +would recognize it directly they saw it.” + +Merriman nodded without speaking and Hilliard continued: + +“I think, therefore, that we should leave the launch at Bordeaux +tonight and go back to London overland. I shall write Mr. Coburn saying +we have found Poste Restante letters recalling us. You can enclose a +note to Miss Coburn if you like. When we get to town we can apply at +the Inquiry Office at Lloyd’s to find out where the _Girondin_ calls in +England. Then let us go there and make inquiries. The launch can be +worked back to England some other time. How does that strike you?” + +“Seems all right. But I should leave the launch at Bordeaux. We may +have to come back, and it would furnish us with an excuse for our +presence if we were seen.” + +Hilliard gave a little sigh of relief. Merriman’s reply took a weight +off his mind, not because of the value of the suggestion—though in its +way it was quite useful—but because of its indication of Merriman’s +frame of mind. He had feared that because of Miss Coburn’s connection +with the affair he would lose his friend’s help, even that they might +quarrel. And now he saw these fears were groundless. Thankfully he +recognized that they would co-operate as they had originally intended. + +“Jolly good notion, that,” he answered cordially. + +“I confess,” Merriman went on slowly, “that I should have liked to stay +in the neighborhood and see if we couldn’t find out something more +about the lorry numbers. It may be a trivial point, but it’s the only +direct and definite thing we know of. All the rest are hints or +suspicions or probabilities. But here we have a bit of mystery, +tangible, in our hands, as it were. Why were those number plates +changed? It seems to me a good point of attack.” + +“I thought of that, too, and I agree with every word you say,” Hilliard +replied eagerly, “but there is the question of our being suspects. I +believe we shall be watched out of the place, and I feel sure our only +chance of learning anything is to satisfy them of our bona fides.” + +Merriman agreed, and they continued discussing the matter in detail, at +last deciding to adopt Hilliard’s suggestion and set to work on the +English end of the mysterious traffic. + +About two that afternoon they swung round the Pointe de Grave into the +estuary of the Gironde. The tide, which was then flowing, turned when +they were some two-thirds of the way up, and it was well on to seven +o’clock when they made fast to the same decaying wharf from which they +had set out. Hilliard saw the owner, and arranged with him to let the +launch lie at one of his moorings until she should be required. Then +the friends went up town, got some dinner, wrote their letters, and +took the night train for Paris. Next evening they were in London. + +“I say,” Hilliard remarked when later on that same evening they sat in +his rooms discussing their plans, “I believe we can find out about the +_Girondin_ now. My neighbor on the next landing above is a shipping +man. He might have a copy of Lloyd’s Register. I shall go and ask him.” + +In a few moments he returned with a bulky volume. “One of the wonders +of the world, this, I always think,” he said, as he began to turn over +the pages. “It gives, or is supposed to give, information about +everything over a hundred tons that floats anywhere over the entire +globe. It’ll give the _Girondin_ anyway.” He ran his finger down the +columns. “Ah! what’s this? Motor ship _Girondin_, 350 tons, built and +so on. ‘The Landes Pit-Prop Syndicate, Ferriby, Hull.’ Hull, my son. +There we are.” + +“Hull! I know Hull,” Merriman remarked laconically. “At least, I was +there once.” + +“We shall know it a jolly sight better than that before we’re through, +it seems to me,” his friend replied. “Let’s hope so, anyway.” + +“What’s the plan, then? I’m on, provided I have a good sleep at home +tonight first.” + +“Same here,” Hilliard agreed as he filled his pipe. “I suppose Hull by +an early train tomorrow is the scheme.” + +Merriman borrowed his friend’s pouch and refilled his pipe in his turn. + +“You think so?” he said slowly. “Well, I’m not so sure. Seems to me we +can very easily dish ourselves if we’re not careful.” + +“How so?” + +“We agreed these folk were wide-awake and suspicious of us. Very well. +Directly our visit to them is over, we change our plans and leave +Bordeaux. Will it not strike them that our interest in the trip was +only on their account?” + +“I don’t see it. We gave a good reason for leaving.” + +“Quite; that’s what I’m coming to. We told them you were recalled to +your office. But what about that man Morton, that was to spy on us +before? What’s to prevent them asking him if you really have returned?” + +Hilliard sat up sharply. + +“By Jove!” he cried. “I never thought of that.” + +“And there’s another thing,” Merriman went on. “We turn up at Hull, +find the syndicate’s depot and hang about, the fellow in charge there +sees us. Well, that’s all right _if_ he hasn’t had a letter from France +describing us and enclosing a copy of that group that Captain Beamish +took at the chateau.” + +Hilliard whistled. + +“Lord! It’s not going to be so simple as it looks, is it?” + +“It isn’t. And what’s more, we can’t afford to make any mistakes. It’s +too dangerous.” + +Hilliard got up and began to pace the room. + +“I don’t care,” he declared savagely. “I’m going through with it now no +matter what happens.” + +“Oh, so am I, for the matter of that. All I say is we shall have to +show a bit more intelligence this time.” + +For an hour more they discussed the matter, and at last decided on a +plan. On the following morning Hilliard was to go to his office, see +his chief and ask for an extension of leave, then hang about and +interview as many of his colleagues as possible, telling them he had +been recalled, but was not now required. His chief was not very +approachable, and Hilliard felt sure the subject would not be broached +to him. In the evening they would go down to Hull. + +This program they would have carried out, but for an unforeseen event. +While Hilliard was visiting his office Merriman took the opportunity to +call at his, and there learned that Edwards, his partner, had been +taken ill the morning before. It appeared there was nothing seriously +wrong, and Edwards expected to be back at work in three or four days, +but until his return Merriman was required, and he had reluctantly to +telephone the news to Hilliard. But no part of their combined holiday +was lost. Hilliard by a stroke of unexpected good fortune was able to +spend the same time at work, and postpone the remainder of his leave +until Merriman was free. Thus it came to pass that it was not until six +days later than they had intended that the two friends packed their +bags for Hull. + +They left King’s Cross by the 5.40 p.m. train, reaching their +destination a little before eleven. There they took rooms at the +George, a quiet hotel in Baker Street, close to the Paragon Station. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +THE FERRIBY DEPOT + + +The two friends, eager and excited by their adventure, were early astir +next morning, and after breakfast Hilliard went out and bought the best +map of the city and district he could find. + +“Why, Ferriby’s not in the town at all,” he exclaimed after he had +studied it for some moments. “It’s up the river—must be seven or eight +miles up by the look of it; the North-Eastern runs through it and +there’s a station. We’d better go out there and prospect.” + +Merriman agreed, they called for a timetable, found there was a train +at 10.35, and going down to Paragon Station, got on board. + +After clearing the suburbs the line came down close to the river, and +the two friends kept a good look-out for the depot. About four and a +half miles out they stopped at a station called Hassle, then a couple +of miles farther their perseverance was rewarded and they saw a small +pier and shed, the latter bearing in large letters on its roof the name +of the syndicate. Another mile and a half brought them to Ferriby, +where they alighted. + +“Now what about walking back to Hassle,” Hilliard suggested, “and +seeing what we can see?” + +They followed the station approach road inland until they reached the +main thoroughfare, along which they turned eastwards in the direction +of Hull. In a few minutes they came in sight of the depot, half a mile +off across the fields. A lane led towards it, and this they followed +until it reached the railway. + +[Illustration] + +There it turned in the direction of Hull and ran parallel to the line +for a short distance, doubling back, as they learned afterwards, until +it reached the main road half-way to Hassle. The railway tracks were on +a low bank, and the men could just see across them to the syndicate’s +headquarters. + +The view was not very good, but so far as they could make out, the +depot was a replica of that in the Landes clearing. A timber wharf +jutted out into the stream, apparently of the same size and +construction as that on the River Lesque. Behind it was the same kind +of galvanized iron shed, but this one, besides having windows in the +gables, seemed the smaller of the two. Its back was only about a +hundred feet from the railway, and the space between was taken up by a +yard surrounded by a high galvanized iron fence, above which appeared +the tops of many stacks of pit-props. Into the yard ran a siding from +the railway. From a door in the fence a path led across the line to a +wicket in the hedge of the lane, beside which stood a “Beware of the +Trains” notice. There was no sign of activity about the place, and the +gates through which the siding entered the enclosure were shut. + +Hilliard stopped and stood looking over. + +“How the mischief are we to get near that place without being seen?” he +questioned. “It’s like a German pill-box. There’s no cover anywhere +about.” + +It was true. The country immediately surrounding the depot was +singularly bare. It was flat except for the low bank, four or five feet +high, on which lay the railway tracks. There were clumps of trees +farther inland, but none along the shore, and the nearest building, a +large block like a factory with beside it a cottage, was at least three +hundred yards away in the Hull direction. + +“Seems an element of design in that, eh, Hilliard?” Merriman remarked +as they turned to continue their walk. “Considering the populous +country we’re in, you could hardly find a more isolated place.” + +Hilliard nodded as they turned away. + +“I’ve just been thinking that. They could carry on any tricks they +liked there and no one would be a bit the wiser.” + +They moved on towards the factory-like building. It was on the inland +side of the railway, and the lane swung away from the line and passed +what was evidently its frontage. A siding ran into its rear, and there +were connections across the main lines and a signal cabin in the +distance. A few yards on the nearer side stood the cottage, which they +now saw was empty and dilapidated. + +“I say, Hilliard, look there!” cried Merriman suddenly. + +They had passed along the lane until the facade of the building had +come into view and they were able to read its signboard: “Ackroyd & +Bolt, Licensed Rectifiers.” + +“I thought it looked like a distillery,” continued Merriman in +considerable excitement. “By Jove! Hilliard, that’s a find and no +mistake! Pretty suggestive, that, isn’t it?” + +Hilliard was not so enthusiastic. + +“I’m not so sure,” he said slowly. “You mean that it supports my brandy +smuggling theory? Just how?” + +“Well, what do you think yourself? We suspect brandy smuggling, and +here we find at the import end of the concern the nearest building in +an isolated region is a distillery—a rectifying house, mind you! Isn’t +that a matter of design too? How better could they dispose of their +stuff than by dumping it on to rectifiers?” + +“You distinguish between distillers and rectifiers?” + +“Certainly; there’s less check on rectifiers. Am I not right in saying +that while the regulations for the measurement of spirit actually +produced from the stills are so thorough as to make fraud almost +impossible, rectifiers, because they don’t themselves produce spirit, +but merely refine what other firms have produced, are not so strictly +looked after? Rectifiers would surely find smuggled stuff easier to +dispose of than distillers.” + +Hilliard shook his head. + +“Perhaps so, theoretically,” he admitted, “but in practice there’s +nothing in it. Neither could work a fraud like that, for both are +watched far too closely by our people. I’m afraid I don’t see that this +place being here helps us. Surely it’s reasonable to suppose that the +same cause brought Messrs. Ackroyd & Bolt that attracted the syndicate? +Just that it’s a good site. Where in the district could you get a +better? Cheap ground and plenty of it, and steamer and rail +connections.” + +“It’s a coincidence anyway.” + +“I don’t see it. In any case unless we can prove that the ship brings +brandy the question doesn’t arise.” + +Merriman shrugged his shoulders good-humoredly. + +“That’s a blow,” he remarked. “And I was so sure I had got hold of +something good! But it just leads us back to the question that somehow +or other we must inspect that depot, and if we find nothing we must +watch the _Girondin_ unloading. If we can only get near enough it would +be _impossible_ for them to discharge anything in bulk without our +seeing it.” + +Hilliard murmured an agreement, and the two men strolled on in silence, +the thoughts of each busy with the problem Merriman had set. Both were +realizing that detective work was a very much more difficult business +than they had imagined. Had not each had a strong motive for continuing +the investigation, it is possible they might have grown fainthearted. +But Hilliard had before him the vision of the kudos which would accrue +to him if he could unmask a far-reaching conspiracy, while to Merriman +the freeing of Madeleine Coburn from the toils in which she seemed to +have been enmeshed had become of more importance than anything else in +the world. + +The two friends had already left the distillery half a mile behind, +when Hilliard stopped and looked at his watch. + +“Ten minutes to twelve,” he announced. “As we have nothing to do let’s +go back and watch that place. Something may happen during the +afternoon, and if not we’ll look out for the workmen leaving and see if +we can pick up something from them.” + +They retraced their steps past the distillery and depot, then creeping +into a little wood, sat down on a bank within sight of the enclosure +and waited. + +The day was hot and somewhat enervating, and both enjoyed the +relaxation in the cool shade. They sat for the most part in silence, +smoking steadily, and turning over in their minds the problems with +which they were faced. Before them the country sloped gently down to +the railway bank, along the top of which the polished edges of the +rails gleamed in the midday sun. Beyond was the wide expanse of the +river, with a dazzling track of shimmering gold stretching across it +and hiding the low-lying farther shore with its brilliancy. A few small +boats moved slowly near the shore, while farther out an occasional +large steamer came into view going up the fairway to Goole. Every now +and then trains roared past, the steam hardly visible in the dry air. + +The afternoon dragged slowly but not unpleasantly away, until about +five o’clock they observed the first sign of activity about the +syndicate’s depot which had taken place since their arrival. The door +in the galvanized fence opened and five figures emerged and slowly +crossed the railway. They paused for a moment after reaching the lane, +then separated, four going eastwards towards the distillery, the fifth +coming north towards the point at which the watchers were concealed. +The latter thereupon moved out from their hiding place on to the road. + +The fifth figure resolved itself into that of a middle-aged man of the +laboring class, slow, heavy, and obese. In his rather bovine +countenance hardly any spark of intelligence shone. He did not appear +to have seen the others as he approached, but evinced neither surprise +nor interest when Hilliard accosted him. + +“Any place about here you can get a drink?” + +The man slowly jerked his head to the left. + +“Oop in village,” he answered. “Raven bar.” + +“Come along and show us the way and have a drink with us,” Hilliard +invited. + +The man grasped this and his eyes gleamed. + +“Ay,” he replied succinctly. + +As they walked Hilliard attempted light conversation, but without +eliciting much response from their new acquaintance, and it was not +until he had consumed his third bottle of beer that his tongue became +somewhat looser. + +“Any chance of a job where you’re working?” Hilliard went on. “My pal +and I would be glad to pick up something.” + +The man shook his head, apparently noticing nothing incongruous in the +question. + +“Don’t think it.” + +“No harm in asking the boss anyway. Where might we find him?” + +“Down at works likely. He be there most times.” + +“I’d rather go to his house. Can you tell where he lives?” + +“Ay. Down at works.” + +“But he doesn’t sleep at the works surely?” + +“Ay. Sleeps in tin hut.” + +The friends exchanged glances. Their problem was even more difficult +than they had supposed. A secret inspection seemed more and more +unattainable. Hilliard continued the laborious conversation. + +“We thought there might be some stevedoring to do. You’ve a steamer in +now and then, haven’t you?” + +The man admitted it, and after a deal of wearisome questioning they +learned that the _Girondin_ called about every ten days, remaining for +about forty-eight hours, and that she was due in three or four days. + +Finding they could get no further information out of him, they left +their bovine acquaintance with a fresh supply of beer, and returning to +the station, took the first train back to Hull. As they sat smoking +that evening after dinner they once more attacked the problem which was +baffling them. + +“It seems to me,” Hilliard asserted, “that we should concentrate on the +smuggling idea first, not because I quite believe in it, but because +it’s the only one we have. And that brings us again to the same +point—the unloading of the _Girondin_.” + +Merriman not replying, he continued: + +“Any attempt involves a preliminary visit to see how the land lies. Now +we can’t approach that place in the daytime; if we try to slip round +secretly we shall be spotted from those windows or from the wharf; on +the other hand, if we invent some tale and go openly, we give ourselves +away if they have our descriptions or photographs. Therefore we must go +at night.” + +“Well?” + +“Obviously we can only approach the place by land or water. If we go by +land we have either to shin up on the pier from the shore, which we’re +not certain we can do, or else risk making a noise climbing over the +galvanized iron fence. Besides we might leave footmarks or other +traces. But if we go by water we can muffle our oars and drop down +absolutely silently to the wharf. There are bound to be steps, and it +would be easy to get up without making any noise.” + +Merriman’s emphatic nod expressed his approval. + +“Good,” he cried warmly. “What about getting a boat to-morrow and +having a try that night?” + +“I think we should. There’s another thing about it too. If there should +be an alarm we could get away by the river far more easily than across +the country. It’s a blessing there’s no moon.” + +Next day the object of their search was changed. They wanted a small, +handy skiff on hire. It did not turn out an easy quest, but by the late +afternoon they succeeded in obtaining the desired article. They +purchased also close-fitting caps and rubber-soled shoes, together with +some food for the night, a couple of electric torches, and a yard of +black cloth. Then, shortly before dusk began to fall, they took their +places and pulled out on the great stream. + +It was a pleasant evening, a fitting close to a glorious day. The air +was soft and balmy, and a faint haze hung over the water, smoothing and +blurring the sharp outlines of the buildings of the town and turning +the opposite bank into a gray smudge. Not a breath was stirring, and +the water lay like plate glass, unbroken by the faintest ripple. The +spirit of adventure was high in the two men as they pulled down the +great avenue of burnished gold stretching westwards towards the sinking +sun. + +The tide was flowing, and but slight effort was needed to keep them +moving up-stream. As darkness grew they came nearer inshore, until in +the fading light they recognized the railway station at Hassle. There +they ceased rowing, drifting slowly onwards until the last faint haze +of light had disappeared from the sky. + +They had carefully muffled their oars, and now they turned north and +began sculling gently inshore. Several lights had come out, and +presently they recognized the railway signals and cabin at the +distillery sidings. + +“Two or three hundred yards more,” said Hilliard in low tones. + +They were now close to the beach, and they allowed themselves to drift +on until the dark mass of the wharf loomed up ahead. Then Hilliard +dipped his oars and brought the boat silently alongside. + +As they had imagined from their distant view of it, the wharf was +identically similar in construction to that on the River Lesque. Here +also were the two lines of piles like the letter _V_, one, in front +vertical, the other raking to support the earthwork behind. Here in the +same relative position were the steps, and to these Hilliard made fast +the painter with a slip hitch that could be quickly released. Then with +the utmost caution both men stepped ashore, and slowly mounting the +steps, peeped out over the deck of the wharf. + +As far as they could make out in the gloom, the arrangement here also +was similar to that in France. Lines of narrow gauge tramway, running +parallel from the hut towards the water, were connected along the front +of the wharf by a cross road and turn-tables. Between the lines were +stacks of pit-props, and Decauville trucks stood here and there. But +these details they saw afterwards. What first attracted their attention +was that lights shone in the third and fourth windows from the left +hand end of the shed. The manager evidently was still about. + +“We’ll go back to the boat and wait,” Hilliard whispered, and they +crept down the steps. + +At intervals of half an hour one or other climbed up and had a look at +the windows. On the first two occasions the light was unchanged, on the +third it had moved to the first and second windows, and on the fourth +it had gone, apparently indicating that the manager had moved from his +sitting-room to his bedroom and retired. + +“We had better wait at least an hour more,” Hilliard whispered again. + +Time passed slowly in the darkness under the wharf, and in a silence +broken only by the gentle lapping of the water among the piles. The +boat lay almost steady, except when a movement of one of its occupants +made it heel slightly over and started a series of tiny ripples. It was +not cold, and had the men not been so full of their adventure they +could have slept. At intervals Hilliard consulted his luminous-dialed +watch, but it was not until the hands pointed to the half-hour after +one that they made a move. Then once more they softly ascended to the +wharf above. + +The sides of the structure were protected by railings which ran back to +the gables of the tin house, the latter stretching entirely across the +base of the pier. Over the space thus enclosed the two friends passed, +but it speedily became apparent that here nothing of interest was to be +found. Beyond the stacks of props and wagons there was literally +nothing except a rusty steam winch, a large water butt into which was +led the down spout from the roof, a tank raised on a stand and fitted +with a flexible pipe, evidently for supplying crude oil for the ship’s +engines, and a number of empty barrels in which the oil had been +delivered. With their torch carefully screened by the black cloth the +friends examined these objects, particularly the oil tank which, +forming as it did a bridge between ship and shore, naturally came in +for its share of suspicion. But, they were soon satisfied that neither +it nor any of the other objects were connected with their quest, and +retreating to the edge of the wharf, they held a whispered +consultation. + +Hilliard was for attempting to open one of the doors in the shed at the +end away from the manager’s room, but Merriman, obsessed with the idea +of seeing the unloading of the _Girondin_, urged that the contents of +the shed were secondary, and that their efforts should be confined to +discovering a hiding place from which the necessary observations could +be made. + +“If there was any way of getting inside one of these stacks of props,” +he said, “we could keep a perfect watch. I could get in now, for +example; you relieve me tomorrow night; I relieve you the next night, +and so on. Nothing could be unloaded that we wouldn’t see. But,” he +added regretfully, “I doubt even if we could get inside that we should +be hidden. Besides, they might take a notion to load the props up.” + +“Afraid that is hardly the scheme,” Hilliard answered, then went on +excitedly: “But, there’s that barrel! Perhaps we could get into that.” + +“The barrel! That’s the ticket.” Merriman was excited in his turn. +“That is, if it has a lid.” + +They retraced their steps. With the tank they did not trouble; it was a +galvanized iron box with the lid riveted on, and moreover was full of +oil; but the barrel looked feasible. + +It was an exceptionally large cask or butt, with a lid which projected +over its upper rim and which entirely protected the interior from view. +It was placed in the corner beside the right hand gable of the shed, +that is, the opposite end of the manager’s rooms, and the wooden down +spout from the roof passed in through a slot cut in the edge of the +lid. A more ideal position for an observation post could hardly have +been selected. + +“Try to lift the lid,” whispered Hilliard. + +They found it was merely laid on the rim, cleats nailed on below +preventing it from slipping off. They raised it easily and Hilliard +flashed in a beam from his electric torch. The cask was empty, +evidently a result of the long drought. + +“That’ll do,” Merriman breathed. “That’s all we want to see. Come +away.” + +They lowered the cover and stood for a moment. Hilliard still wanted to +try the doors of the shed, but Merriman would not hear of it. + +“Come away,” he whispered again. “We’ve done well. Why spoil it?” + +They returned to the boat and there argued it out. Merriman’s proposal +was to try to find out when the _Girondin_ was expected, then come the +night before, bore a few eyeholes in the cask, and let one of them, +properly supplied with provisions, get inside and assume watch. The +other one would row away, rest and sleep during the day, and return on +the following night, when they would exchange roles, and so on until +the _Girondin_ left. In this way, he asserted, they must infallibly +discover the truth, at least about the smuggling. + +“Do you think we could stand twenty-four hours in that barrel?” +Hilliard questioned. + +“Of course we could stand it. We’ve got to. Come on, Hilliard, it’s the +only way.” + +It did not require much persuasion to get Hilliard to fall in with the +proposal, and they untied their painter and pulled silently away from +the wharf. The tide had turned, and soon they relaxed their efforts and +let the boat drift gently downstream. The first faint light appeared in +the eastern sky as they floated past Hassle, and for an hour afterwards +they lay in the bottom of the boat, smoking peacefully and entranced by +the gorgeous pageant of the coming day. + +Not wishing to reach Hull too early, they rowed inshore and, landing in +a little bay, lay down in the lush grass and slept for three or four +hours. Then re-embarking, they pulled and drifted on until, between +seven and eight o’clock, they reached the wharf at which they had hired +their boat. An hour later they were back at their hotel, recuperating +from the fatigues of the night with the help of cold baths and a +substantial breakfast. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE UNLOADING OF THE “GIRONDIN” + + +After breakfast Hilliard disappeared. He went out ostensibly to post a +letter, but it was not until nearly three o’clock that he turned up +again. + +“Sorry, old man,” he greeted Merriman, “but when I was going to the +post office this morning an idea struck me, and it took me longer to +follow up than I anticipated. I’ll tell you. I suppose you realize that +life in that barrel won’t be very happy for the victim?” + +“It’ll be damnable,” Merriman agreed succinctly, “but we needn’t worry +about that; we’re in for it.” + +“Oh, quite,” Hilliard returned. “But just for that reason we don’t want +more of it than is necessary. We could easily bury ourselves +twenty-four hours too soon.” + +“Meaning?” + +“Meaning that we mustn’t go back to the wharf until the night before +the _Girondin_ arrives.” + +“Don’t see how we can be sure of that.” + +“Nor did I till I posted my letter. Then I got my idea. It seemed worth +following up, so I went round the shipping offices until I found a file +of Lloyd’s List. As you know it’s a daily paper which gives the +arrivals and departures of all ships at the world’s ports. My notion +was that if we could make a list of the _Girondin’s_ Ferriby arrivals +and departures, say, during the last three months, and if we found she +ran her trip regularly, we could forecast when she would be next due. +Follow me?” + +“Rather.” + +“I had no trouble getting out my list, but I found it a bit +disappointing. The trip took either ten, eleven, or twelve days, and +for a long time I couldn’t discover the ruling factor. Then I found it +was Sunday. If you omit each Sunday the _Girondin_ is in port, the +round trip always takes the even ten days. I had the Lesque arrival and +departure for that one trip when we were there, so I was able to make +out the complete cycle. She takes two days in the Lesque to load, three +to run to Hull, two at Ferriby to discharge, and three to return to +France. Working from that and her last call here, she should be due +back early on Friday morning.” + +“Good!” Merriman exclaimed. “Jolly good! And today is Thursday. We’ve +just time to get ready.” + +They went out and bought a one-inch auger and a three-sixteenths +bradawl, a thick footstool and a satchel. This latter they packed with +a loaf, some cheese, a packet of figs, a few bottles of soda water and +a flask of whisky. These, with their caps, rubber shoes, electric +torches and the black cloth, they carried to their boat; then returning +to the hotel, they spent the time resting there until eleven o’clock. +Solemnly they drew lots for the first watch, recognizing that the +matter was by no means a joke, as, if unloading were carried on by +night, relief might be impossible during the ship’s stay. But Merriman, +to whom the fates were propitious, had no fear of his ability to hold +out even for this period. + +By eleven-thirty they were again sculling up the river. The weather was +as perfect as that of the night before, except that on this occasion a +faint westerly breeze had covered the surface of the water with myriads +of tiny wavelets, which lapped and gurgled round the stem of their boat +as they drove it gently through them. They did not hurry, and it was +after one before they moored to the depot steps. + +All was dark and silent above, as, carrying their purchases, they +mounted to the wharf and crept stealthily to the barrel. Carefully they +raised the lid, and Merriman, standing on the footstool, with some +difficulty squeezed himself inside. Hilliard then lifted the footstool +on to the rim and lowered the lid on to it, afterwards passing in +through the opening thus left the satchel of food and the one-inch +auger. + +A means of observation now remained to be made. Two holes, they +thought, should afford all the view necessary, one looking towards the +front of the wharf, and the other at right angles, along the side of +the shed. Slowly, from the inside, Merriman began to bore. He made a +sound like the nibbling of a mouse, but worked at irregular speeds so +as not to suggest human agency to anyone who might be awake and +listening. Hilliard, with his hand on the outside of the barrel, +stopped the work when he felt the point of the auger coming through, +and he himself completed the hole from the outside with his bradawl. +This gave an aperture imperceptible on the rough exterior, but large +within, and enabled the watcher to see through a much wider angle than +he could otherwise have done. Hilliard then once more raised the lid, +allowing Merriman to lift the footstool within, where it was destined +to act as a seat for the observer. + +All was now complete, and with a whispered exchange of good wishes, +Hilliard withdrew, having satisfied himself by a careful look round +that no traces had been left. Regaining the boat, he loosed the painter +and pulled gently away into the night. + +Left to himself in the confined space and inky blackness of the cask, +Merriman proceeded to take stock of his position. He was anxious if +possible to sleep, not only to pass some of the time, which at the best +would inevitably be terribly long, but also that he might be the more +wakeful when his attention should be required. But his unusual +surroundings stimulated his imagination, and he could not rest. + +He was surprised that the air was so good. Fortunately, the hole +through the lid which received the down spout was of large dimensions, +so that even though he might not have plenty of air, he would be in no +danger of asphyxiation. + +The night was very still. Listening intently, he could not hear the +slightest sound. The silence and utter darkness indeed soon became +overpowering, and he took his watch from his pocket that he might have +the companionship of its ticking and see the glimmering hands and ring +of figures. + +He gave himself up for the thousandth time to the consideration of the +main problem. What were the syndicate people doing? Was Mr. Coburn +liable to prosecution, to penal servitude? Was it possible that by some +twist of the legal mind, some misleading circumstantial evidence, Miss +Coburn—Madeleine—could be incriminated? Oh, if he but knew what was +wrong, that he might be able to help! If he could but get her out of +it, and for her sake Mr. Coburn! If they were once safe he could pass +on his knowledge to the police and be quit of the whole business. But +always there was this enveloping cloak of ignorance baffling him at +every turn. He did not know what was wrong, and any step he attempted +might just precipitate the calamity he most desired to avoid. + +Suppose he went and asked her? This idea had occurred to him many times +before, and he had always rejected it as impracticable. But suppose he +did? The danger was that she might be alarmed or displeased, that she +might refuse to admit there was anything wrong and forbid him to refer +to the matter again or even send him away altogether. And he felt he +was not strong enough to risk that. No, he must know where he stood +first. He must understand his position, so as not to bungle the thing. +Hilliard was right. They must find out what the syndicate was doing. +There was no other way. + +So the hours dragged slowly away, but at last after interminable ages +had gone by, Merriman noticed two faint spots of light showing at his +eyeholes. Seating himself on his footstool, he bent forward and put his +eye first to one and then to the other. + +It was still the cold, dead light of early dawn before the sun had come +to awaken color and sharpen detail, but the main outlines of objects +were already clear. As Merriman peered out he saw with relief that no +mistake had been made as to his outlooks. From one hole or the other he +could see the entire area of the wharf. + +It was about five a.m., and he congratulated himself that what he hoped +was the most irksome part of his vigil was over. Soon the place would +awaken to life, and the time would then pass more quickly in +observation of what took place. + +But the three hours that elapsed before anything happened seemed even +longer than those before dawn. Then, just as his watch showed eight +o’clock, he heard a key grind in a lock, a door opened, and a man +stepped out of the shed on the wharf. + +He was a young fellow, slight in build, with an extremely alert and +intelligent face, but a rather unpleasant expression. The sallowness of +his complexion was emphasized by his almost jet black hair and dark +eyes. He was dressed in a loose gray Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, +but wore no hat. He moved forward three or four feet and stood staring +downstream towards Hull. + +“I see her, Tom,” he called out suddenly to someone in the shed behind. +“She’s just coming round the point.” + +There was another step and a second man appeared. He was older and +looked like a foreman. His face was a contrast to that of the other. In +it the expression was good—kindly, reliable, honest—but ability was not +marked. He looked a decent, plodding, stupid man. He also stared +eastward. + +“Ay,” he said slowly. “She’s early.” + +“Two hours,” the first agreed. “Didn’t expect her till between ten and +eleven.” + +The other murmured something about “getting things ready,” and +disappeared back into the shed. Presently came the sounds of doors +being opened, and some more empty Decauville trucks were pushed out on +to the wharf. At intervals both men reappeared and looked down-stream, +evidently watching the approach of the ship. + +Some half an hour passed, and then an increase of movement seemed to +announce her arrival. The manager walked once more down the wharf, +followed by the foreman and four other men—apparently the whole +staff—among whom was the bovine-looking fellow whom the friends had +tried to pump on their first visit to the locality. Then came a long +delay during which Merriman could catch the sound of a ship’s telegraph +and the churning of the screw, and at last the bow of the _Girondin_ +appeared, slowly coming in. Ropes were flung, caught, slipped over +bollards, drawn taut, made fast—and she was berthed. + +Captain Beamish was on the bridge, and as soon as he could, the manager +jumped aboard and ran up the steps and joined him there. In a few +seconds both men disappeared into the captain’s cabin. + +The foreman and his men followed on board and began in a leisurely way +to get the hatches open, but for at least an hour no real activity was +displayed. Then work began in earnest. The clearing of the hatches was +completed, the ship’s winches were started, and the unloading of the +props began. + +This was simply a reversal of the procedure they had observed at the +clearing. The props were swung out in bundles by the _Girondin’s_ crew, +lowered on to the Decauville trucks, and pushed by the depot men back +through the shed, the empty trucks being returned by another road, and +brought by means of the turn-tables to the starting point. The young +manager watched the operations and took a tally of the props. + +Merriman kept a close eye on the proceedings, and felt certain he was +witnessing everything that was taking place. Every truckload of props +passed within ten feet of his hiding place, and he was satisfied that +if anything other than props were put ashore he would infallibly see +it. But the close watching was a considerable strain, and he soon began +to grow tired. He had some bread and fruit and a whisky and soda, and +though he would have given a good deal for a smoke, he felt greatly +refreshed. + +The work kept on without intermission until one o’clock, when the men +knocked off for dinner. At two they began again, and worked steadily +all through the afternoon until past seven. During all that time only +two incidents, both trifling, occurred to relieve the monotony of the +proceedings. Early in the forenoon Bulla appeared, and under his +instructions the end of the flexible hose from the crude oil tank was +carried aboard and connected by a union to a pipe on the lower deck. A +wheel valve at the tank was turned, and Merriman could see the hose +move and stiffen as the oil began to flow through it. An hour later the +valve was turned off, the hose relaxed, the union was uncoupled and the +hose, dripping black oil, was carried back and left in its former place +on the wharf. The second incident was that about three o’clock Captain +Beamish and Bulla left the ship together and went out through the shed. + +Merriman was now horribly tired, and his head ached intolerably from +the strain and the air of the barrel, which had by this time become +very impure. But he reflected that now when the men had left was the +opportunity of the conspirators. The time for which he had waited was +approaching, and he nerved himself to resist the drowsiness which was +stealing over him and which threatened the success of his vigil. + +But hour after hour slowly dragged past and nothing happened. Except +for the occasional movement of one of the crew on the ship, the whole +place seemed deserted. It was not till well after ten, when dusk had +fallen, that he suddenly heard voices. + +At first he could not distinguish the words, but the tone was Bulla’s, +and from the sounds it was clear the engineer and some others were +approaching. Then Beamish spoke: + +“You’d better keep your eyes open anyway,” he said. “Morton says they +only stayed at work about a week. They’re off somewhere now. Morton +couldn’t discover where, but he’s trying to trace them.” + +“I’m not afraid of them,” returned the manager’s voice. “Even if they +found this place, which of course they might, they couldn’t find out +anything else. We’ve got too good a site.” + +“Well, don’t make the mistake of underestimating their brains,” +counseled Beamish, as the three men moved slowly down the wharf. +Merriman, considerably thrilled, watched them go on board and disappear +into the captain’s cabin. + +So it was clear, then, that he and Hilliard were seriously suspected by +the syndicate and were being traced by their spy! What luck would the +spy have? And if he succeeded in his endeavor, what would be their +fortune? Merriman was no coward, but he shivered slightly as he went +over in his mind the steps of their present quest, and realized how far +they had failed to cover their traces, how at stage after stage they +had given themselves away to anyone who cared to make a few inquiries. +What fools, he thought, they were not to have disguised themselves! +Simple disguises would have been quite enough. No doubt they would not +have deceived personal friends, but they would have made all the +difference to a stranger endeavoring to trace them from descriptions +and those confounded photographs. Then they should not have travelled +together to Hull, still less have gone to the same hotel. It was true +they had had the sense to register under false names, but that would be +but a slight hindrance to a skillful investigator. But their crowning +folly, in Merriman’s view, was the hiring of the boat and the starting +off at night from the docks and arriving back there in the morning. +What they should have done, he now thought bitterly, was to have taken +a boat at Grimsby or some other distant town and kept it continuously, +letting no one know when they set out on or returned from their +excursions. + +But there was no use in crying over spilt milk. Merriman repeated to +himself the adage, though he did not find it at all comforting. Then +his thoughts passed on to the immediate present, and he wondered +whether he should not try to get out of the barrel and emulate +Hilliard’s exploit in boarding the _Girondin_ and listening to the +conversation in the captain’s cabin. But he soon decided he must keep +to the arranged plan, and make sure nothing was put ashore from the +ship under cover of darkness. + +Once again ensued a period of waiting, during which the time dragged +terribly heavily. Everything without was perfectly still, until at +about half past eleven the door of the captain’s cabin opened and its +three occupants came out into the night. The starboard deck light was +on and by its light Merriman could see the manager take his leave, +cross the gangway, pass up the wharf and enter the shed. Bulla went +down towards his cabin door and Beamish, snapping off the deck light, +returned to his. In about fifteen minutes his light also went out and +complete darkness and silence reigned. + +Some two hours later Merriman, who had kept awake and on guard only by +the most determined effort, heard a gentle tap on the barrel and a +faint “Hist!” The lid was slowly raised, and to his intense relief he +was able to stand upright and greet Hilliard crouching without. + +“Any news?” queried the latter in the faintest of whispers. “Absolutely +none. Not a single thing came out of that boat but props. I had a +splendid view all the time. Except this, Hilliard”—Merriman’s whisper +became more intense—“They suspect us and are trying to trace us.” + +“Let them try,” breathed Hilliard. “Here, take this in.” + +He handed over the satchel of fresh food and took out the old one. Then +Merriman climbed out, held up the lid until Hilliard had taken his +place, wished his friend good luck, and passing like a shadow along the +wharf, noiselessly descended the steps and reached the boat. A few +seconds later he had drifted out of sight of the depot, and was pulling +with long, easy strokes down-stream. + +The air and freedom felt incredibly good after his long confinement, +and it was a delight to stretch his muscles at the oars. So hard did he +row that it was barely three when he reached the boat slip in Hull. +There he tied up the skiff and walked to the hotel. Before four he was +sound asleep in his room. + +That evening about seven as he strolled along the waterfront waiting +until it should be time to take out his boat, he was delighted to +observe the _Girondin_ pass out to sea. He had dreaded having to take +another twenty-four hours’ trick in the cask, which would have been +necessary had the ship not left that evening. Now all that was needed +was a little care to get Hilliard out, and the immediate job would be +done. + +He took out the boat about eleven and duly reached the wharf. All was +in darkness, and he crept to the barrel and softly raised the lid. + +Hilliard was exhausted from the long strain, but with his friend’s help +he succeeded in clambering out, having first examined the floor of the +barrel to see that nothing had been overlooked, as well as plugging the +two holes with corks. They regained the boat in silence, and it was not +until they were some distance from the wharf that either spoke. + +“My goodness! Merriman,” Hilliard said at last, “but that was an awful +experience! You left the air in that cursed barrel bad, and it got +steadily worse until I thought I should have died or had to lift the +lid and give the show away. It was just everything I could do to keep +going till the ship left.” + +“But did you see anything?” Merriman demanded eagerly. + +“See anything? Not a blessed thing! We are barking up the wrong tree, +Merriman. I’ll stake my life nothing came out of that boat but props. +No; what those people are up to I don’t know, but there’s one thing a +dead cert, and that is that they’re not smuggling.” + +They rowed on in silence, Hilliard almost sick with weariness and +disappointment, Merriman lost in thought over their problem. It was +still early when they reached their hotel, and they followed Merriman’s +plan of the morning before and went straight to bed. + +Next day they spent in the hotel lounge, gloomily smoking and at +intervals discussing the affair. They had admitted themselves +outwitted—up to the present at all events. And neither could suggest +any further step. There seemed to be no line of investigation left +which might bear better fruit. They agreed that the brandy smuggling +theory must be abandoned, and they had nothing to take its place. + +“We’re fairly up against it as far as I can see,” Hilliard admitted +despondently. “It’s a nasty knock having to give up the only theory we +were able to think of, but it’s a hanged sight worse not knowing how we +are going to carry on the inquiry.” + +“That is true,” Merriman returned, Madeleine Coburn’s face rising +before his imagination, “but we can’t give it up for all that. We must +go on until we find something.” + +“That’s all very well. What are we to go on doing?” + +Silence reigned for several minutes and then Hilliard spoke again. + +“I’m afraid it means Scotland Yard after all.” + +Merriman sat up quickly. + +“Not that, not that!” he protested, as he had protested in similar +terms on a previous occasion when the same suggestion had been made. +“We must keep away from the police at all costs.” He spoke earnestly. + +“I know your views,” Hilliard answered, “and agree with them. But if +neither of us can suggest an alternative, what else remains?” + +This was what Merriman had feared and he determined to play the one +poor trump in his hand. + +“The number plates,” he suggested. “As I said before, that is the only +point at which we have actually come up against this mystery. Why not +let us start in on it? If we knew why those plates were changed, the +chances are we should know enough to clear up the whole affair.” + +Hilliard, who was suffering from the reaction of his night of stress, +took a depressed view and did not welcome the suggestion. He seemed to +have lost heart in the inquiry, and again urged dropping it and passing +on their knowledge to Scotland Yard. But this course Merriman +strenuously opposed, pressing his view that the key to the mystery was +to be found in the changing of the lorry numbers. Finally they decided +to leave the question over until the following day, and to banish the +affair from their minds for that evening by a visit to a music hall. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +THE SECOND CARGO + + +Merriman was awakened in the early hours of the following morning by a +push on the shoulder and, opening his eyes, he was amazed to see +Hilliard, dressed only in his pajamas, leaning over him. On his +friend’s face was an expression of excitement and delight which made +him a totally different man from the gloomy pessimist of the previous +day. + +“Merriman, old man,” he cried, though in repressed tones—it was only a +little after five—“I’m frightfully sorry to stir you up, but I just +couldn’t help it. I say, you and I are a nice pair of idiots!” + +Merriman grunted. + +“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he murmured sleepily. + +“Talking about?” Hilliard returned eagerly. “Why, this affair, of +course! I see it now, but what I don’t see is how we missed it before. +The idea struck me like a flash. Just while you’d wink I saw the whole +thing!” + +Merriman, now thoroughly aroused, moved with some annoyance. + +“For Heaven’s sake, explain yourself,” he demanded. “What whole thing?” + +“How they do it. We thought it was brandy smuggling but we couldn’t see +how it was done. Well, I see now. It’s brandy smuggling right enough, +and we’ll get them this time. We’ll get them, Merriman, we’ll get them +yet.” + +Hilliard was bubbling over with excitement. He could not remain still, +but began to pace up and down the room. His emotion was infectious, and +Merriman began to feel his heart beat quicker as he listened. + +Hilliard went on: + +“We _thought_ there might be brandy, in fact we couldn’t suggest +anything else. But we didn’t _see_ any brandy; we saw pit-props. Isn’t +that right?” + +“Well?” Merriman returned impatiently. “Get on. What next?” + +“That’s all,” Hilliard declared with a delighted laugh. “That’s the +whole thing. Don’t you see it now?” + +Merriman felt his anger rising. + +“Confound it all, Hilliard,” he protested. “If you haven’t anything +better to do than coming round wakening—” + +“Oh, don’t get on your hind legs,” Hilliard interrupted with another +ecstatic chuckle. “What I say is right-enough. Look here, it’s +perfectly simple. We thought brandy would be unloaded! And what’s more, +we both sat in that cursed barrel and watched it being done! But all we +saw coming ashore was pit-props, Merriman, _pit-props!_ Now don’t you +see?” + +Merriman suddenly gasped. + +“Lord!” he cried breathlessly. “It was _in_ the props?” + +“Of course it was in the props!” Hilliard repeated triumphantly. +“Hollow props; a few hollow ones full of brandy to unload in their +shed, many genuine ones to sell! What do you think of that, Merriman? +Got them at last, eh?” + +Merriman lay still as he tried to realize what this idea involved. +Hilliard, moving jerkily about the room as if he were a puppet +controlled by wires, went on speaking. + +“I thought it out in bed before I came along. All they’d have to do +would be to cut the props in half and bore them out, attaching a +screwed ring to one half and a screwed socket to the other so that +they’d screw together like an ordinary gas thimble. See?” + +Merriman nodded. + +“Then they’d get some steel things like oxygen gas cylinders to fit +inside. They’d be designed of such a thickness that their weight would +be right; that their weight plus the brandy would be equal to the +weight of the wood bored out.” + +He paused and looked at Merriman. The latter nodded again. + +“The rest would be as easy as tumbling off a log. At night Coburn and +company would screw off the hollow ends, fill the cylinders with +brandy, screw on the end again, and there you have your props—harmless, +innocent props—ready for loading up on the _Girondin_. Of course, +they’d have them marked. Then when they’re being unloaded that manager +would get the marked ones put aside—they could somehow be defective, +too long or too short or too thin or too anything you like—he would +find some reason for separating them out—and then at night he would +open the things and pour out the brandy, screw them up again and—there +you are!” + +Hilliard paused dramatically, like a conjurer who has just drawn a +rabbit from a lady’s vanity bag. + +“That would explain that Ferriby manager sleeping in the shed,” +Merriman put in. + +“So it would. I hadn’t thought of that.” + +“And,” Merriman went on, “there’d be enough genuine props carried on +each trip to justify the trade.” + +“Of course. A very few faked ones would do all they wanted—say two or +three per cent. My goodness, Merriman, it’s a clever scheme; they +deserve to win. But they’re not going to.” Again he laughed +delightedly. + +Merriman was thinking deeply. He had recovered his composure, and had +begun to weigh the idea critically. + +“They mightn’t empty the brandy themselves at all,” he said slowly. +“What’s to prevent them running the faked props to the firm who plants +the brandy?” + +“That’s true,” Hilliard returned. “That’s another idea. My eyes, what +possibilities the notion has!” + +They talked on for some moments, then Hilliard, whose first excitement +was beginning to wane, went back to his room for some clothes. In a few +minutes he returned full of another side of the idea. + +“Let’s just work out,” he suggested, “how much you could put into a +prop. Take a prop say nine inches in diameter and nine feet long. Now +you can’t weaken it enough to risk its breaking if it accidentally +falls. Suppose you bored a six-inch hole down its center. That would +leave the sides one and half inches thick, which should be ample. What +do you think?” + +“Take it at that anyway,” answered Merriman. + +“Very well. Now how long would it be? If we bore too deep a hole we may +split the prop. What about two feet six inches into each end? Say a +five-foot tube?” + +“Take it at that,” Merriman repeated. + +“How much brandy could you put into a six-inch tube, five feet long?” +He calculated aloud, Merriman checking each step. “That works out at a +cubic foot of brandy, six and a quarter gallons, fifty pints or four +hundred glasses-four hundred glasses per prop.” + +He paused, looked at his friend, and resumed: + +“A glass of brandy in France costs you sixpence; in England it costs +you half-a-crown. Therefore, if you can smuggle the stuff over you make +a profit of two shillings a glass. Four hundred glasses at two +shillings. There’s a profit of £40 a prop, Merriman!” + +Merriman whistled. He was growing more and more impressed. The longer +he considered the idea, the more likely it seemed. He listened eagerly +as Hilliard, once again excitedly pacing the room, resumed his +calculations. + +“Now you have a cargo of about seven thousand props. Suppose you assume +one per cent of them are faked, that would be seventy. We don’t know +how many they have, of course, but one out of every hundred is surely a +conservative figure. Seventy props means £2,800 profit per trip. _And_ +they have a trip every ten days—say thirty trips a year to be on the +safe side—£84,000 a year profit! My eyes, Merriman, it would be worth +running some risks for £84,000 a year!” + +“Risks?” cried Merriman, now as much excited as his friend. “They’d +risk hell for it! I bet, Hilliard, you’ve got it at last. £84,000 a +year! But look here,”—his voice changed—“you have to divide it among +the members.” + +“That’s true, you have,” Hilliard admitted, “but even so—how many are +there? Beamish, Bulla, Coburn, Henri, the manager here, and the two men +they spoke of, Morton and Archer—that makes seven. That would give them +£12,000 a year each. It’s still jolly well worth while.” + +“Worth while? I should just say so.” Merriman lay silently pondering +the idea. Presently he spoke again. + +“Of course those figures of yours are only guesswork.” + +“They’re only guesswork,” Hilliard agreed with a trace of impatience in +his manner, “because we don’t know the size of the tubes and the number +of the props, but it’s not guesswork that they can make a fortune out +of smuggling in that way. We see now that the thing can be done, and +_how_ it can be done. That’s something gained anyway.” + +Merriman nodded and sat up in bed. + +“Hand me my pipe and baccy out of that coat pocket like a good man,” he +asked, continuing slowly: + +“It’ll be some job, I fancy, proving it. We shall have to see first if +the props are emptied at that depot, and if not we shall have to find +out where they’re sent, and investigate. I seem to see a pretty long +program opening out. Have you any plans?” + +“Not a plan,” Hilliard declared cheerfully. “No time to make ’em yet. +But we shall find a way somehow.” + +They went on discussing the matter in more detail. At first the testing +of Hilliard’s new theory appeared a simple matter, but the more they +thought it over the more difficult it seemed to become. For one thing +there would be the investigations at the depot. Whatever unloading of +the brandy was carried on there would probably be done inside the shed +and at night. It would therefore be necessary to find some hiding place +within the building from which the investigations could be made. This +alone was an undertaking bristling with difficulties. In the first +place, all the doors of the shed were locked and none of them opened +without noise. How were they without keys to open the doors in the +dark, silently and without leaving traces? Observations might be +required during the entire ten-day cycle, and that would mean that at +some time each night one of these doors would have to be opened and +shut to allow the watcher to be relieved. And if the emptying of the +props were done at night how were they to ensure that this operation +should not coincide with the visit of the relief? And this was all +presupposing that a suitable hiding place could be found inside the +building in such a position that from it the operations in question +could be overlooked. + +Here no doubt were pretty serious obstacles, but even were they all +successfully overcome it did not follow that they would have solved the +problem. The faked props might be loaded up and forwarded to some other +depot, and, if so, this other depot might be by no means easy to find. +Further, if it were found, nocturnal observation of what went on within +would then become necessary. + +It seemed to the friends that all they had done up to the present would +be the merest child’s play in comparison to what was now required. +During the whole of that day and the next they brooded over the +problem, but without avail. The more they thought about it the more +hopeless it seemed. Even Hilliard’s cheery optimism was not proof +against the wave of depression which swept over him. + +Curiously enough it was to Merriman, the plodding rather than the +brilliant, that light first came. They were seated in the otherwise +empty hotel lounge when he suddenly stopped smoking, sat motionless for +nearly a minute, and then turned eagerly to his companion. + +“I say, Hilliard,” he exclaimed. “I wonder if there mightn’t be another +way out after all—a scheme for making them separate the faked and the +genuine props? Do you know Leatham—Charlie Leatham of Ellerby, +somewhere between Selby and Boughton? No? Well, he owns a group of +mines in that district. He’s as decent a soul as ever breathed, and is +just rolling in money. Now,—how would it do if we were to go to Charlie +and tell him the whole thing, and ask him to approach these people to +see if they would sell him a cargo of props—an entire cargo. I should +explain that he has a private wharf for lighters on one of those rivers +up beyond Goole, but the approach is too shallow for a sea-going boat. +Now, why shouldn’t he tell these people about his wharf, saying he had +heard the _Girondin_ was shallow in the draught, and might get up? He +would then say he would take an entire cargo on condition that he could +have it at his own place and so save rail carriage from Ferriby. That +would put the syndicate in a hole. They couldn’t let any of the faked +props out of their possession, and if they agreed to Leatham’s proposal +they’d have to separate out the faked props from the genuine, and keep +the faked aboard. On their way back from Leatham’s they would have to +call at Ferriby to put these faked ones ashore, and if we are not utter +fools we should surely be able to get hold of them then. What do you +think, Hilliard?” + +Hilliard smote his thigh. + +“Bravo!” he cried with enthusiasm. “I think it’s just splendid. But is +there any chance your friend would take a cargo? It’s rather a large +order, you know. What would it run into? Four or five thousand pounds?” + +“Why shouldn’t he? He has to buy props anyway, and these are good props +and they would be as cheap as any he could get elsewhere. Taking them +at his own wharf would be good business. Besides, 7,000 props is not a +big thing for a group of mines. There are a tremendous lot used.” + +“That’s true.” + +“But the syndicate may not agree,” Merriman went on. “And yet I think +they will. It would look suspicious for them to refuse so good an +offer.” + +Hilliard nodded. Then a further idea seemed to strike him and he sat up +suddenly. + +“But, Merriman, old man,” he exclaimed, “you’ve forgotten one thing. If +they sent a cargo of that kind they’d send only genuine props. They +wouldn’t risk the others.” + +But Merriman was not cast down. + +“I dare say you’re right,” he admitted, “but we can easily prevent +that. Suppose Leatham arranges for a cargo for some indefinite date +ahead, then on the day after the _Girondin_ leaves France he goes to +Ferriby and says some other consignment has failed him, and could they +let him have the next cargo? That would meet the case, wouldn’t it?” + +“By Jove, Merriman, but you’re developing the detective instinct and no +mistake! I think the scheme’s worth trying anyway. How can you get in +touch with your friend?” + +“I’ll phone him now that we shall be over tomorrow to see him.” + +Leatham was just leaving his office when Merriman’s call reached him. + +“Delighted to see you and meet your friend,” he answered. “But couldn’t +you both come over now and stay the night? You would be a perfect +godsend to me, for Hilda’s in London and I have the house to myself.” + +Merriman thanked him, and later on the two friends took the 6.35 train +to Ellerby. Leatham’s car was waiting for them at the station, and in a +few minutes they had reached the mineowner’s house. + +Charles Leatham was a man of about five-and-thirty, tall, broad, and of +muscular build. He had a strong, clean-shaven face, a kindly though +direct manner, and there was about him a suggestion of decision and +efficiency which inspired the confidence of those with whom he came in +contact. + +“This is very jolly,” he greeted them. “How are you, old man? Glad to +meet you, Hilliard. This is better than the lonely evening I was +expecting.” + +They went into dinner presently, but it was not until the meal was over +and they were stretched in basket chairs on the terrace in the cool +evening air that Merriman reverted to the subject which had brought +them together. + +“I’m afraid,” he began, “it’s only now when I am right up against it +that I realize what appalling cheek we show in coming to you like this, +and when you hear what we have in our minds, I’m afraid you will think +so too. As a matter of fact, we’ve accidentally got hold of information +that a criminal organization of some kind is in operation. For various +reasons our hands are tied about going to the police, so we’re trying +to play the detectives ourselves, and now we’re up against a difficulty +we don’t see our way through. We thought if we could interest you +sufficiently to induce you to join us, we might devise a scheme.” + +Amazement had been growing on Leatham’s face while Merriman was +speaking. + +“Sounds like the _New Arabian Nights!_” he exclaimed. “You’re not by +any chance pulling my leg?” + +Merriman reassured him. + +“The thing’s really a bit serious,” he continued. “If what we suspect +is going on, the parties concerned won’t be squeamish about the means +they adopt to keep their secret. I imagine they’d have a short way with +meddlers.” + +Leatham’s expression of astonishment did not decrease, but “By Jove!” +was all he said. + +“For that reason we can only tell you about it in confidence.” + +Merriman paused and glanced questioningly at the other, who nodded +without replying. + +“It began when I was cycling from Bayonne to Bordeaux,” Merriman went +on, and he told his host about his visit to the clearing, his voyage of +discovery with Hilliard and what they had learned in France, their trip +to Hull, the Ferriby depot and their adventures thereat, ending up by +explaining their hollow pit-prop idea, and the difficulty with which +they found themselves faced. + +Leatham heard the story with an interest which could hardly fail to +gratify its narrator. When it was finished he expressed his feelings by +giving vent to a long and complicated oath. Then he asked how they +thought he could help. Merriman explained. The mineowner rather gasped +at first, then he laughed and slapped his thigh. + +“By the Lord Harry!” he cried, “I’ll do it! As a matter of fact I want +the props, but I’d do it anyway to see you through. If there’s anything +at all in what you suspect it’ll make the sensation of the year.” + +He thought for a moment, then went on: + +“I shall go down to that depot at Ferriby tomorrow, have a look at the +props, and broach the idea of taking a cargo. It’ll be interesting to +have a chat with that manager fellow, and you may bet I’ll keep my eyes +open. You two had better lie low here, and in the evening we’ll have +another talk and settle what’s to be done.” + +The next day the friends “lay low,” and evening saw them once more on +the terrace with their host. It seemed that he had motored to Ferriby +about midday. The manager had been polite and even friendly, had seemed +pleased at the visit of so influential a customer, and had shown him +over the entire concern without the slightest hesitation. He had +appeared delighted at the prospect of disposing of a whole cargo of +props, and had raised no objection to the _Girondin_ unloading at +Leatham’s wharf. The price was moderate, but not exceptionally so. + +“I must admit,” Leatham concluded, “that everything appeared very sound +and businesslike. I had a look everywhere in that shed and enclosure, +and I saw nothing even remotely suspicious. The manager’s manner, too, +was normal and it seems to me that either he’s a jolly good actor or +you two chaps are on a wild goose chase.” + +“We may be about the hollow props,” Merriman returned, “and we may be +about the brandy smuggling. But there’s no mistake at all about +something being wrong. That’s certain from what Hilliard overheard.” + +Leatham nodded. + +“I know all that,” he said, “and when we’ve carried out this present +scheme we shall know something more. Now let’s see. When does that +blessed boat next leave France?” + +“Thursday morning, we reckon,” Hilliard told him. + +“Then on Friday afternoon I shall call up those people and pitch my +yarn about my consignment of props having gone astray, and ask if they +can send their boat direct here. How’s that?” + +“Nothing could be better.” + +“Then I think for the present you two had better clear out. Our +connection should not be known. And don’t go near London either. That +chap Morton has lost you once, but he’ll not do it a second time. Go +and tramp the Peak District, or something of that kind. Then you’ll be +wanted back in Hull on Saturday.” + +“What’s that for?” both men exclaimed in a breath. + +“That blessed barrel of yours. You say the _Girondin_ will leave France +on Thursday night. That means she will be in the Humber on Sunday night +or Monday morning. Now you reckoned she would unload here and put the +faked props ashore and load up oil at Ferriby on her way out. But she +mightn’t. She might go into Ferriby first. It would be the likely thing +to do, in fact, for then she’d get here with nothing suspicious aboard +and could unload everything. So I guess you’ll have to watch in your +barrel on Sunday, and that means getting into it on Saturday night.” + +The two friends swore and Leatham laughed. + +“Good heavens,” Hilliard cried, “it means about four more nights of the +damned thing. From Saturday night to Sunday night for the arrival; +maybe until Monday night if she lies over to discharge the faked props +on Monday. Then another two nights or maybe three to cover her +departure. I tell you it’s a tall order.” + +“But think of the prize,” Leatham smiled maliciously. “As a matter of +fact I don’t see any other way.” + +“There is no other way,” Merriman declared with decision. “We may just +set our teeth and go through with it.” + +After further discussion it was arranged that the friends would leave +early next day for Harrogate. There Leatham would wire them on Friday +the result of his negotiations about the _Girondin_. They could then +return to Hull and get out their boat on Saturday should that be +necessary. When about midnight they turned in, Leatham was quite as +keen about the affair as his guests, and quite as anxious that their +joint experiment should be crowned with success. + +The two friends spent a couple of lazy days amusing themselves in +Harrogate, until towards evening on the Friday Merriman was called to +the telephone. + +“That’ll be Leatham,” he exclaimed. “Come on, Hilliard, and hear what +he has to say.” + +It was the mineowner speaking from his office. + +“I’ve just rung up our friends,” he told them, “and that business is +all right. There was some delay about it at first, for Benson—that’s +the manager—was afraid he hadn’t enough stock of props for current +orders. But on looking up his records he found he could manage, so he +is letting the ship come on.” + +“Jolly good, Leatham.” + +“The _Girondin_ is expected about seven tomorrow evening. Benson then +asked about a pilot. It seems their captain is a certified pilot of the +Humber up to Ferriby, but he could not take the boat farther. I told +him I’d lend him the man who acted for me, and what I’ve arranged is +this, I shall send Angus Menzies, the master of one of my river tugs, +to the wharf at Ferriby about six on Saturday evening. When the +_Girondin_ comes up he can go aboard and work her on here. Menzies is a +good man, and I shall drop a hint that I’ve bought the whole cargo, and +to keep his eyes open that nothing is put ashore that I don’t get. +That’ll be a still further check.” + +The friends expressed their satisfaction at this arrangement, and it +was decided that as soon as the investigation was over all three should +meet and compare results at Leatham’s house. + +Next evening saw the two inquirers back at their hotel in Hull. They +had instructed the owner of their hired boat to keep it in readiness +for them, and about eleven o’clock, armed with the footstool and the +satchel of food, they once more got on board and pulled out on to the +great stream. Merriman not wishing to spend longer in the barrel than +was absolutely necessary, they went ashore near Hassle and had a couple +of hours’ sleep, and it was well past four when they reached the depot. +The adventure was somewhat more risky than on the previous occasion, +owning to the presence of a tiny arc of moon. But they carried out +their plans without mishap, Merriman taking his place in the cask, and +Hilliard returning to Hull with the boat. + +If possible, the slow passage of the heavily weighted hours until the +following evening was even more irksome to the watcher than on the +first occasion. Merriman felt he would die of weariness and boredom +long before anything happened, and it was only the thought that he was +doing it for Madeleine Coburn that kept him from utter collapse. + +At intervals during the morning, Benson, the manager, or one of the +other men came out for a moment or two on the wharf, but no regular +work went on there. During the interminable hours of the afternoon no +one appeared at all, the whole place remaining silent and deserted, and +it was not until nearly six that the sound of footsteps fell on +Merriman’s weary ears. He heard a gruff voice saying: “Ah’m no so +sairtain o’ it mesel’,” which seemed to accord with the name of +Leatham’s skipper, and then came Benson’s voice raised in agreement. + +The two men passed out of the shed and moved to the edge of the wharf, +pursuing a desultory discussion, the drift of which Merriman could not +catch. The greater part of an hour passed, when first Benson and then +Menzies began to stare eastwards down the river. It seemed evident to +Merriman that the _Girondin_ was in sight, and he began to hope that +something more interesting would happen. But the time dragged wearily +for another half-hour, until he heard the bell of the engine-room +telegraph and the wash of the screw. A moment later the ship appeared, +drew alongside, and was berthed, all precisely as had happened before. + +As soon as the gangway was lowered, Benson sprang aboard, and running +up the ladder to the bridge, eagerly addressed Captain Beamish. +Merriman could not hear what was said, but he could see the captain +shaking his head and making little gestures of disapproval. He watched +him go to the engine room tube and speak down it. It was evidently a +call to Bulla, for almost immediately the engineer appeared and +ascended to the bridge, where all three joined in a brief discussion. +Finally Benson came to the side of the ship and shouted something to +Menzies, who at once went on board and joined the group on the bridge. +Merriman saw Benson introduce him to the others, and then apparently +explain something to him. Menzies nodded as if satisfied and the +conversation became general. + +Merriman was considerably thrilled by this new development. He imagined +that Benson while, for the benefit of Menzies, ostensibly endeavoring +to make the arrangements agreed on, had in reality preceded the pilot +on board in order to warn the captain of the proposal, and arrange with +him some excuse for keeping the ship where she was for the night. Bulla +had been sent for to acquaint him with the situation, and it was not +until all three were agreed as to their story that Menzies was invited +to join the conclave. To Merriman it certainly looked as if the men +were going to fall into the trap which he and his friends had prepared, +and he congratulated himself on having adhered to his program and +hidden himself in the barrel, instead of leaving the watching to be +done by Menzies, as he had been so sorely tempted to do. For it was +clear to him that if any secret work was to be done Menzies would be +got out of the way until it was over. Merriman was now keenly on the +alert, and he watched every movement on the ship or wharf with the +sharpness of a lynx. Bulla presently went below, leaving the other +three chatting on the bridge, then a move was made and, the engineer +reappearing, all four entered the cabin. Apparently they were having a +meal, for in about an hour’s time they emerged, and bringing canvas +chairs to the boat deck, sat down and began to smoke—all except Bulla, +who once again disappeared below. In a few moments he emerged with one +of the crew, and began to superintend the coupling of the oil hose. The +friends had realized the ship would have to put in for oil, but they +had expected that an hour’s halt would have sufficed to fill up. But +from the delay in starting and the leisurely way the operation was +being conducted, it looked as if she was not proceeding that night. + +In about an hour the oiling was completed, and Bulla followed his +friends to the captain’s cabin, where the latter had retired when dusk +began to fall. An hour later they came out, said “Good-night,” and +separated, Benson coming ashore, Bulla and Menzies entering cabins on +the main deck, and Captain Beamish snapping off the deck light and +re-entering his own room. + +“Now or never,” thought Merriman, as silence and darkness settled down +over the wharf. + +But apparently it was to be never. Once again the hours crept slowly by +and not a sign of activity became apparent. Nothing moved on either +ship or wharf, until about two in the morning he saw dimly in the faint +moonlight the figure of Hilliard to relieve him. + +The exchange was rapidly effected, and Hilliard took up his watch, +while his friend pulled back into Hull, and following his own +precedent, went to the hotel and to bed. + +The following day Merriman took an early train to Goole, returning +immediately. This brought him past the depot, and he saw that the +_Girondin_ had left. + +That night he again rowed to the wharf and relieved Hilliard. They had +agreed that in spite of the extreme irksomeness of a second night in +the cask it was essential to continue their watch, lest the _Girondin_ +should make another call on her way to sea and then discharge the faked +props. + +The remainder of the night and the next day passed like a hideous +dream. There being nothing to watch for in the first part of his vigil, +Merriman tried to sleep, but without much success. The hours dragged by +with an incredible deliberation, and during the next day there was but +slight movement on the wharf to occupy his attention. And then just +before dark he had the further annoyance of learning that his +long-drawn-out misery had been unnecessary. He saw out in the river the +_Girondin_ passing rapidly seawards. + +Their plan then had failed. He was too weary to think consecutively +about it, but that much at least was clear. When Hilliard arrived some +five hours later, he had fallen into a state of partial coma, and his +friend had considerable trouble in rousing him to make the effort +necessary to leave his hiding place with the requisite care and +silence. + +The next evening the two friends left Hull by a late train, and +reaching Leatham’s house after dusk had fallen, were soon seated in his +smoking-room with whiskies and sodas at their elbows and Corona Coronas +in their mouths. All three were somewhat gloomy, and their +disappointment and chagrin were very real. Leatham was the first to put +their thoughts into words. + +“Well,” he said, drawing at his cigar, “I suppose we needn’t say one +thing and think another. I take it our precious plan has failed?” + +“That’s about the size of it,” Hilliard admitted grimly. + +“Your man saw nothing?” Merriman inquired. + +“He saw you,” the mineowner returned. “He’s a very dependable chap, and +I thought it would be wise to give him a hint that we suspected +something serious, so he kept a good watch. It seems when the ship came +alongside at Ferriby, Benson told the captain not to make fast as he +had to go further up the river. But the captain said he thought they +had better fill up with oil first, and he sent to consult the engineer, +and it was agreed that when they were in they might as well fill up as +it would save a call on the outward journey. Besides, no one concerned +was on for going up in the dark—there are sandbanks, you know, and the +navigation’s bad. They gave Menzies a starboard deck cabin—that was on +the wharf side—and he sat watching the wharf through his porthole for +the entire night. There wasn’t a thing unloaded, and there wasn’t a +movement on the wharf until you two changed your watch. He saw that, +and it fairly thrilled him. After that not another thing happened until +the cook brought him some coffee and they got away.” + +“Pretty thorough,” Hilliard commented. “It’s at least a blessing to be +sure beyond a doubt nothing was unloaded.” + +“We’re certain enough of that,” Leatham went on, “and we’re certain of +something else too. I arranged to drop down on the wharf when the +discharging was about finished, and I had a chat with the captain; +superior chap, that. I told him I was interested in his ship, for it +was the largest I have ever seen up at my wharf, and that I had been +thinking of getting one something the same built. I asked him if he +would let me see over her, and he was most civil and took me over the +entire boat. There was no part of her we didn’t examine, and I’m +prepared to swear there were no props left on board. So we may take it +that whatever else they’re up to, they’re not carrying brandy in faked +pit-props. Nor, so far as I can see, in anything else either.” + +The three men smoked in silence for some time and then Hilliard spoke. + +“I suppose, Leatham, you can’t think of any other theory, or suggest +anything else that we should do.” + +“I can’t suggest what you should do,” returned Leatham, rising to his +feet and beginning to pace the room. “But I know what I should do in +your place. I’d go down to Scotland Yard, tell them what I know, and +then wash my hands of the whole affair.” + +Hilliard sighed. + +“I’m afraid we shall have no option,” he said slowly, “but I needn’t +say we should much rather learn something more definite first.” + +“I dare say, but you haven’t been able to. Either these fellows are a +deal too clever for you, or else you are on the wrong track altogether. +And that’s what _I_ think. I don’t believe there’s any smuggling going +on there at all. It’s some other game they’re on to. I don’t know what +it is, but I don’t believe it’s anything so crude as smuggling.” + +Again silence fell on the little group, and then Merriman, who had for +some time been lost in thought, made a sudden movement. + +“Lord!” he exclaimed, “but we have been fools over this thing! There’s +another point we’ve all missed, which alone proves it couldn’t have +been faked props. Here, Hilliard, this was your theory, though I don’t +mean to saddle you with more imbecility than myself. But anyway, +according to your theory, what happened to the props after they were +unloaded?” + +Hilliard stared at this outburst. + +“After they were unloaded?” he repeated. “Why, returned of course for +the next cargo.” + +“But that’s just it,” cried Merriman. “That’s just what wasn’t done. +We’ve seen that boat unloaded twice, and on neither occasion were any +props loaded to go back.” + +“That’s a point, certainly; yes,” Leatham interposed. “I suppose they +would have to be used again and again? Each trip’s props couldn’t be +destroyed after arrival, and new ones made for the next cargo?” + +Hilliard shook his head reluctantly. + +“No,” he declared. “Impossible. Those things would cost a lot of money. +You see, no cheap scheme, say of shipping bottles into hollowed props, +would do. The props would have to be thoroughly well made, so that they +wouldn’t break and give the show away if accidentally dropped. They +wouldn’t pay unless they were used several times over. I’m afraid +Merriman’s point is sound, and we may give up the idea.” + +Further discussion only strengthened this opinion, and the three men +had to admit themselves at a total loss as to their next move. The only +suggestion in the field was that of Leatham, to inform Scotland Yard, +and that was at last approved by Hilliard as a counsel of despair. + +“There’s nothing else for it that I can see,” he observed gloomily. +“We’ve done our best on our own and failed, and we may let someone else +have a shot now. My leave’s nearly up anyway.” + +Merriman said nothing at the time, but next day, when they had taken +leave of their host and were in train for King’s Cross, he reopened the +subject. + +“I needn’t say, Hilliard,” he began, “I’m most anxious that the police +should not be brought in, and you know the reason why. If she gets into +any difficulty about the affair, you understand my life’s at an end for +any good it’ll do me. Let’s wait a while and think over the thing +further, and perhaps we’ll see daylight before long.” + +Hilliard made a gesture of impatience. + +“If you can suggest any single thing that we should do that we haven’t +done, I’m ready to do it. But if you can’t, I don’t see that we’d be +justified in keeping all that knowledge to ourselves for an indefinite +time while we waited for an inspiration. Is not that reasonable?” + +“It’s perfectly reasonable,” Merriman admitted, “and I don’t suggest we +should wait indefinitely. What I propose is that we wait for a month. +Give me another month, Hilliard, and I’ll be satisfied. I have an idea +that something might be learned from tracing that lorry number +business, and if you have to go back to work I’ll slip over by myself +to Bordeaux and see what I can do. And if I fail I’ll see her, and try +to get her to marry me in spite of the trouble. Wait a month, Hilliard, +and by that time I shall know where I stand.” + +Hilliard was extremely unwilling to agree to this proposal. Though he +realized that he could not hand over to his superiors a complete case +against the syndicate, he also saw that considerable kudos was still +possible if he supplied information which would enable their detectives +to establish one. And every day he delayed increased the chance of +someone else finding the key to the riddle, and thus robbing him of his +reward. Merriman realized the position, and he therefore fully +appreciated the sacrifice Hilliard was risking when after a long +discussion that young man gave his consent. + +Two days later Hilliard was back at his office, while Merriman, after +an argument with his partner not far removed from a complete break, was +on his way once more to the south of France. + + + + +CHAPTER X. +MERRIMAN BECOMES DESPERATE + + +The failure of the attempt to learn the secret of the Pit-Prop +Syndicate affected Merriman more than he could have believed possible. +His interest in the affair was not that of Hilliard. Neither the +intellectual joy of solving a difficult problem for its own sake, nor +the kudos which such a solution might bring, made much appeal to him. +His concern was simply the happiness of the girl he loved, and though, +to do him justice, he did not think overmuch of himself, he recognized +that any barrier raised between them was the end for him of all that +made life endurable. + +As he lay back with closed eyes in the corner seat of a first-class +compartment in the boat train from Calais he went over for the +thousandth time the details of the problem as it affected himself. Had +Mr. Coburn rendered himself liable to arrest or even to penal +servitude, and did his daughter know it? The anxious, troubled look +which Merriman had on different occasions surprised on the girl’s +expressive face made him fear both these possibilities. But if they +were true did it stop there? Was her disquietude due merely to +knowledge of her father’s danger, or was she herself in peril also? +Merriman wondered could she have such knowledge and not be in peril +herself. In the eyes of the law would it not be a guilty knowledge? +Could she not be convicted as an accessory? + +If it were so he must act at once if he were to save her. But how? He +writhed under the terrible feeling of impotence produced by his +ignorance of the syndicate’s real business. If he were to help +Madeleine he must know what the conspirators were doing. + +And he had failed to learn. He had failed, and Hilliard had failed, and +neither they nor Leatham had been able to suggest any method by which +the truth might be ascertained. + +There was, of course, the changing of the number plates. A trained +detective would no doubt be able to make something of that. But +Merriman felt that without even the assistance of Hilliard, he had +neither the desire nor the ability to tackle it. + +He pondered the question, as he had pondered it for weeks, and the more +he thought, the more he felt himself driven to the direct course—to see +Madeleine, put the problem to her, ask her to marry him and come out of +it all. But there were terrible objections to this plan, not the least +of which was that if he made a blunder it might be irrevocable. She +might not hear him at all. She might be displeased by his suggestion +that she and her father were in danger from such a cause. She might +decide not to leave her father for the very reason that he was in +danger. And all these possibilities were, of course, in addition to the +much more probable one that she would simply refuse him because she did +not care about him. + +Merriman did not see his way clearly, and he was troubled. Once he had +made up his mind he was not easily turned from his purpose, but he was +slow in making it up. In this case, where so much depended on his +decision, he found his doubt actually painful. + +Mechanically he alighted at the Gare du Nord, crossed Paris, and took +his place in the southern express at the Quai d’Orsay. Here he +continued wrestling with his problem, and it was not until he was near +his destination that he arrived at a decision. He would not bother +about further investigations. He would go out and see Madeleine, tell +her everything, and put his fate into her hands. + +He alighted at the Bastide Station in Bordeaux, and driving across to +the city, put up at the Gironde Hotel. There he slept the night, and +next day after lunch he took a taxi to the clearing. + +Leaving the vehicle on the main road, he continued on foot down the +lane and past the depot until he reached the manager’s house. + +The door was opened by Miss Coburn in person. On seeing her visitor she +stood for a moment quite motionless while a look of dismay appeared in +her eyes and a hot flush rose on her face and then faded, leaving it +white and drawn. + +“Oh!” she gasped faintly. “It’s you!” She still stood holding the door, +as if overcome by some benumbing emotion. + +Merriman had pulled off his hat. + +“It is I, Miss Coburn,” he answered gently. “I have come over from +London to see you. May I not come in?” + +She stepped back. + +“Come in, of course,” she said, making an obvious effort to infuse +cordiality into her tone. “Come in here.” + +He fumbled with his coat in the hall, and by the time he followed her +into the drawing-room she had recovered her composure. + +She began rather breathlessly to talk commonplaces. At first he +answered in the same strain, but directly he made a serious attempt to +turn the conversation to the subject of his call she adroitly +interrupted him. + +“You’ll have some tea?” she said presently, getting up and moving +towards the door. + +“Er-no-no, thanks, Miss Coburn, not any. I wanted really—” + +“But _I_ want some tea,” she persisted, smiling. “Come, you may help me +to get it ready, but you must have some to keep me company.” + +He had perforce to obey, and during the tea-making she effectually +prevented any serious discussion. But when the meal was over and they +had once more settled down in the drawing-room he would no longer be +denied. + +“Forgive me,” he entreated, “forgive me for bothering you, but it’s so +desperately important to me. And we may be interrupted. _Do_ hear what +I’ve got to say.” + +Without waiting for permission he plunged into the subject. Speaking +hoarsely, stammering, contradicting himself, boggling over the words, +he yet made himself clear. He loved her; had loved her from that first +day they had met; he loved her more than anything else in the world; +he—She covered her face with her hands. + +“Oh!” she cried wildly. “Don’t go on! Don’t say it!” She made a +despairing gesture. “I can’t listen. I tried to stop you.” + +Merriman felt as if a cold weight was slowly descending upon his heart. + +“But I will speak,” he cried hoarsely. “It’s my life that’s at stake. +Don’t tell me you can’t listen. Madeleine! I love you. I want you to +marry me. Say you’ll marry me. Madeleine! Say it!” + +He dropped on his knees before her and seized her hands in his own. + +“My darling,” he whispered fiercely. “I love you enough for us both. +Say you’ll marry me. Say—” + +She wrenched her hands from him. “Oh!” she cried as if heartbroken, and +burst into an uncontrollable flood of tears. + +Merriman was maddened beyond endurance by the sight + +“What a brute I am!” he gasped. “Now I’ve made you cry.” + +“For pity’s sake! Do stop it! Nothing matters about anything else if +only you stop!” + +He was almost beside himself with misery as he pleaded with her. But +soon he pulled himself together and began to speak more rationally. + +“At least tell me the reason,” he besought. “I know I’ve no right to +ask, but it matters so much. Have pity and tell me, is it someone +else?” + +She shook her head faintly between her sobs. + +“Thank goodness for that anyway. Tell me once again. Is it that you +don’t like me?” + +Again she shook her head. + +“You _do_ like me!” he exclaimed breathlessly. “You do, Madeleine. Say +it! Say that you do!” + +She made a resolute effort for self-control. + +“You know I do, but—” she began in a tremulous whisper. In a paroxysm +of overwhelming excitement he interrupted her. + +“Madeleine,” he cried wildly, again seizing her hands, “you don’t—it +couldn’t be possible that you—that you _love_ me?” + +This time she did not withdraw her hands. Slowly she raised her eyes to +his, and in them he read his answer. In a moment she was in his arms +and he was crushing her to his heart. + +For a breathless space she lay, a happy little smile on her lips, and +then the moment passed. “Oh!” she cried, struggling to release herself, +“what have I done? Let me go! I shouldn’t have—” + +“Darling,” he breathed triumphantly. “I’ll never let you go as long as +I live! You love me! What else matters?” + +“No, no,” she cried again, her tears once more flowing. “I was wrong. I +shouldn’t have allowed you. It can never be.” + +He laughed savagely. + +“Never be?” he repeated. “Why, dear one, it _is_. I’d like to know the +person or thing that could stop it now!” + +“It can never be,” she repeated in a voice of despair. “You don’t +understand. There are obstacles.” + +She argued. He scoffed first, then he pleaded. He demanded to be told +the nature of the barrier, then he besought, but all to no purpose. She +would say no more than that it could never be. + +And then—suddenly the question of the syndicate flashed into his mind, +and he sat, almost gasping with wonder as he realized that he had +entirely forgotten it! He had forgotten this mysterious business which +had occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of almost all else for the +past two months! It seemed to him incredible. Yet so it was. + +There surged over him a feeling of relief, so that once more he all but +laughed. He turned to Madeleine. + +“I know,” he cried triumphantly, “the obstacle. And it’s just nothing +at all. It’s this syndicate business that your father has got mixed up +in. Now tell me! Isn’t that it?” + +The effect of his words on the girl was instantaneous. She started and +then sat quite still, while the color slowly drained from her face, +leaving it bleached and deathlike. A look of fear and horror grew in +her eyes, and her fingers clasped until the knuckles showed white. + +“Oh!” she stammered brokenly, “what do you mean by that?” + +Merriman tried once more to take her hand. + +“Dear one,” he said caressingly, “don’t let what I said distress you. +We know the syndicate is carrying on something that—well, perhaps +wouldn’t bear too close investigation. But that has nothing to do with +us. It won’t affect our relations.” + +The girl seemed transfixed with horror. + +“_We_ know?” she repeated dully. “Who are we?” + +“Why, Hilliard; Hilliard and I. We found out quite by accident that +there was something secret going on. We were both interested; Hilliard +has a mania for puzzles, and besides he thought he might get some kudos +if the business was illegal and he could bring it to light, while I +knew that because of Mr. Coburn’s connection with it the matter might +affect you.” + +“Yes?” She seemed hardly able to frame the syllable between her dry +lips. + +Merriman was profoundly unhappy. He felt it was out of the question for +him to tell her anything but the exact truth. Whether she would +consider he had acted improperly in spying on the syndicate he did not +know, but even at the risk of destroying his own chance of happiness he +could not deceive her. + +“Dear one,” he said in a low tone, “don’t think any worse of me than +you can help, and I will tell you everything. You remember that first +day that I was here, when you met me in the lane and we walked to the +mill?” + +She nodded. + +“You may recall that a lorry had just arrived, and that I stopped and +stared at it? Well, I had noticed that the number plate had been +changed.” + +“Ah,” she exclaimed, “I was afraid you had.” + +“Yes, I saw it, though it conveyed nothing to me. But I was interested, +and one night in London, just to make conversation in the club, I +mentioned what I had seen. Hilliard was present, and he joined me on +the way home and insisted on talking over the affair. As I said, he has +a mania for puzzles, and the mystery appealed to him. He was going on +that motorboat tour across France, and he suggested that I should join +him and that we should call here on our way, so as to see if we could +find the solution. Neither of us thought then, you understand, that +there was anything wrong; he was merely interested. I didn’t care about +the mystery, but I confess I leaped at the idea of coming back in order +to meet you again, and on the understanding that there was to be +nothing in the nature of spying, I agreed to his proposal.” + +Merriman paused, but the girl, whose eyes were fixed intently on his +face, made no remark, and he continued: + +“While we were here, Hilliard, who is very observant and clever, saw +one or two little things which excited his suspicion, and without +telling me, he slipped on board the _Girondin_ and overheard a +conversation between Mr. Coburn, Captain Beamish, Mr. Bulla, and Henri. +He learned at once that something serious and illegal was in progress, +but he did not learn what it was.” + +“Then there _was_ spying,” she declared accusingly. + +“There was,” he admitted. “I can only say that under the circumstances +he thought himself justified.” + +“Go on,” she ordered shortly. + +“We returned then to England, and were kept at our offices for about a +week. But Hilliard felt that we could not drop the matter, as we should +then become accomplices. Besides, he was interested. He proposed we +should try to find out more about it. This time I agreed, but I would +ask you, Madeleine, to believe me when I tell you my motive, and to +judge me by it. He spoke of reporting what he had learned to the +police, and if I hadn’t agreed to help him he would have done so. I +wanted at all costs to avoid that, because if there was going to be any +trouble I wanted Mr. Coburn to be out of it first. Believe me or not, +that was my only reason for agreeing.” + +“I do believe you,” she said, “but finish what you have to tell me.” + +“We learned from Lloyd’s List that the _Girondin_ put into Hull. We +went there and at Ferriby, seven miles up-stream, we found the depot +where she discharged the props. You don’t know it?” + +She shook her head. + +“It’s quite like this place; just a wharf and shed, with an enclosure +between the river and the railway. We made all the inquiries and +investigations we could think of, but we learned absolutely nothing. +But that, unfortunately, is the worst of it. Hilliard is disgusted with +our failure and appears determined to tell the police.” + +“Oh!” cried the girl with an impatient gesture. “Why can’t he let it +alone? It’s not his business.” + +Merriman shrugged his shoulders. + +“That’s what he said at all events. I had the greatest difficulty in +getting him to promise even to delay. But he has promised, and we have +a month to make our plans. I came straight over to tell you, and to ask +you to marry me at once and come away with me to England.” + +“Oh, no, no, no!” she cried, putting up her hand as if to shield +herself from the idea. “Besides, what about my father?” + +“I’ve thought about him too,” Merriman returned. “We will tell him the +whole thing, and he will be able to get out before the crash comes.” + +For some moments she sat in silence; then she asked had Hilliard any +idea of what was being done. + +“He suggested brandy smuggling, but it was only a theory. There was +nothing whatever to support it.” + +“Brandy smuggling? Oh, if it only were!” + +Merriman stared in amazement. + +“It wouldn’t be so bad as what I had feared,” the girl added, answering +his look. + +“And that was—? Do trust me, Madeleine.” + +“I do trust you, and I will tell you all I know; it isn’t much. I was +afraid they were printing and circulating false money.” + +Merriman was genuinely surprised. + +“False money?” he repeated blankly. + +“Yes; English Treasury notes. I thought they were perhaps printing them +over here, and sending some to England with each trip of the +_Girondin_. It was a remark I accidentally overheard that made me think +so. But, like you, it was only a guess. I had no proof.” + +“Tell me,” Merriman begged. + +“It was last winter when the evenings closed in early. I had had a +headache and I had gone to rest for a few minutes in the next room, the +dining-room, which was in darkness. The door between it and this room +was almost but not quite closed. I must have fallen asleep, for I +suddenly became conscious of voices in here, though I had heard no one +enter. I was going to call out when a phrase arrested my attention. I +did not mean to listen, but involuntarily I stayed quiet for a moment. +You understand?” + +“Of course. It was the natural thing to do.” + +“Captain Beamish was speaking. He was just finishing a sentence and I +only caught the last few words. ‘So that’s a profit of six thousand, +seven hundred and fifty pounds,’ he said; ‘fifty pounds loss on the +props, and six thousand seven hundred netted over the other. Not bad +for one trip!’” + +“Lord!” Merriman exclaimed in amazement. “No wonder you stopped!” + +“I couldn’t understand what was meant, and while I sat undecided what +to do I heard my father say, ‘No trouble planting the stuff?’ Captain +Beamish answered, ‘Archer said not, but then Archer is—Archer. He’s +planting it in small lots—ten here, twenty there, fifty in t’other +place; I don’t think he put out more than fifty at any one time. And he +says he’s only learning his way round, and that he’ll be able to form +better connections to get rid of it.’ Then Mr. Bulla spoke, and this +was what upset me so much and made me think, ‘Mr. Archer is a wonderful +man,’ he said with that horrible fat chuckle of his, ‘he would plant +stuff on Old Nick himself with the whole of the C.I.D. looking on.’ I +was bewildered and rather horrified, and I did not wait to hear any +more. I crept away noiselessly, and I didn’t want to be found as it +were listening. Even then I did not understand that anything was wrong, +but it happened that the very next day I was walking through the forest +near the lane, and I noticed Henri changing the numbers on the lorry. +He didn’t see me, and he had such a stealthy surreptitious air, that I +couldn’t but see it was not a joke. Putting two and two together I felt +something serious was going on, and that night I asked my father what +it was.” + +“Well done!” Merriman exclaimed admiringly. + +“But it was no use. He made little of it at first, but when I pressed +him he said that against his will he had been forced into an enterprise +which he hated and which he was trying to get out of. He said I must be +patient and we should get away from it as quickly as possible. But +since then,” she added despondently, “though I have returned to the +subject time after time he has always put me off, saying that we must +wait a little longer.” + +“And then you thought of the false notes?” + +“Yes, but I had no reason to do so except that I couldn’t think of +anything else that would fit the words I had overheard. Planting stuff +by tens or twenties or fifties seemed to—” + +There was a sudden noise in the hall and Madeleine broke off to listen. + +“Father,” she whispered breathlessly. “Don’t say anything.” + +Merriman had just time to nod when the door opened and Mr. Coburn +appeared on the threshold. For a moment he stood looking at his +daughter’s visitor, while the emotions of doubt, surprise and annoyance +seemed to pass successively through his mind. Then he advanced with +outstretched hand and a somewhat satirical smile on his lips. + +“Ah, it is the good Merriman,” he exclaimed. “Welcome once more to our +humble abode. And where is brother Hilliard? You don’t mean to say you +have come without him?” + +His tone jarred on Merriman, but he answered courteously: “I left him +in London. I had business bringing me to this neighborhood, and when I +reached Bordeaux I took the opportunity to run out to see you and Miss +Coburn.” + +The manager replied suitably, and the conversation became general. As +soon as he could with civility, Merriman rose to go. Mr. Coburn cried +out in protest, but the other insisted. + +Mr. Coburn had become more cordial, and the two men strolled together +across the clearing. Merriman had had no opportunity of further private +conversation with Madeleine, but he pressed her hand and smiled at her +encouragingly on saying good-bye. + +As the taxi bore him swiftly back towards Bordeaux, his mind was +occupied with the girl to the exclusion of all else. It was not so much +that he thought definitely about her, as that she seemed to fill all +his consciousness. He felt numb, and his whole being ached for her as +with a dull physical pain. But it was a pain that was mingled with +exultation, for if she had refused him, she had at least admitted that +she loved him. Incredible thought! He smiled ecstatically, then, the +sense of loss returning, once more gazed gloomily ahead into vacancy. +As the evening wore on his thoughts turned towards what she had said +about the syndicate. Her forged note theory had come to him as a +complete surprise, and he wondered whether she really had hit on the +true solution of the mystery. The conversation she had overheard +undoubtedly pointed in that direction. “Planting stuff” was, he +believed, the technical phrase for passing forged notes, and the +reference to “tens,” “twenties,” and “fifties,” tended in the same +direction. Also “forming connections to get rid of it” seemed to +suggest the finding of agents who would take a number of notes at a +time, to be passed on by ones and twos, no doubt for a consideration. + +But there was the obvious difficulty that the theory did not account +for the operations as a whole. The elaborate mechanism of the pit-prop +industry was not needed to provide a means of carrying forged notes +from France to England. They could be secreted about the person of a +traveller crossing by any of the ordinary routes. Hundreds of notes +could be sewn into the lining of an overcoat, thousands carried in the +double bottom of a suitcase. Of course, so frequent a traveller would +require a plausible reason for his journeys, but that would present no +difficulty to men like those composing the syndicate. In any case, by +crossing in rotation by the dozen or so well-patronized routes between +England and the Continent, the continuity of the travelling could be +largely hidden. Moreover, thought Merriman, why print the notes in +France at all? Why not produce them in England and so save the need for +importation? + +On the whole there seemed but slight support for the theory and several +strong arguments against it, and he felt that Madeleine must be +mistaken, just as he and Hilliard had been mistaken. + +Oh! how sick of the whole business he was! He no longer cared what the +syndicate was doing. He never wanted to hear of it again. He wanted +Madeleine, and he wanted nothing else. His thoughts swung back to her +as he had seen her that afternoon; her trim figure, her daintiness, her +brown eyes clouded with trouble, her little shell-like ears escaping +from the tendrils of her hair, her tears.... He broke out once more +into a cold sweat as he thought of those tears. + +Presently he began wondering what his own next step should be, and he +soon decided he must see her again, and with as little delay as +possible. + +The next afternoon, therefore, he once more presented himself at the +house in the clearing. This time the door was opened by an elderly +servant, who handed him a note and informed him that Mr. and Miss +Coburn had left home for some days. + +Bitterly disappointed he turned away, and in the solitude of the lane +he opened the note. It read: + +“_Friday_. + + +“Dear Mr. Merriman,—I feel it is quite impossible that we should part +without a word more than could be said at our interrupted interview +this afternoon, so with deep sorrow I am writing to you to say to you, +dear Mr. Merriman, ‘Good-bye.’ I have enjoyed our short friendship, and +all my life I shall be proud that you spoke as you did, but, my dear, +it is just because I think so much of you that I could not bring your +life under the terrible cloud that hangs over mine. Though it hurts me +to say it, I have no option but to ask you to accept the answer I gave +you as final, and to forget that we met. + “I am leaving home for some time, and I beg of you not to give both + of us more pain by trying to follow me. Oh, my dear, I cannot say + how grieved I am. + + +“Your sincere friend, +“Madeleine Coburn.” + + +Merriman was overwhelmed utterly by the blow. Mechanically he regained +the taxi, where he lay limply back, gripping the note and unconscious +of his position, while his bloodless lips repeated over and over again +the phrase, “I’ll find her. I’ll find her. If it takes me all my life +I’ll find her and I’ll marry her.” + +Like a man in a state of coma he returned to his hotel in Bordeaux, and +there, for the first time in his life, he drank himself into +forgetfulness. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +AN UNEXPECTED ALLY + + +For several days Merriman, sick at heart and shaken in body, remained +on at Bordeaux, too numbed by the blow which had fallen on him to take +any decisive action. He now understood that Madeleine Coburn had +refused him because she loved him, and he vowed he would rest neither +day nor night till he had seen her and obtained a reversal of her +decision. But for the moment his energy had departed, and he spent his +time smoking in the Jardin and brooding over his troubles. + +It was true that on three separate occasions he had called at the +manager’s house, only to be told that Mr. and Miss Coburn were still +from home, and neither there nor from the foreman at the works could he +learn their addresses or the date of their return. He had also written +a couple of scrappy notes to Hilliard, merely saying he was on a fresh +scent, and to make no move in the matter until he heard further. Of the +Pit-Prop Syndicate as apart from Madeleine he was now profoundly +wearied, and he wished for nothing more than never again to hear its +name mentioned. + +But after a week of depression and self-pity his natural good sense +reasserted itself, and he began seriously to consider his position. He +honestly believed that Madeleine’s happiness could best be brought +about by the fulfilment of his own, in other words by their marriage. +He appreciated the motives which had caused her to refuse him, but he +hoped that by his continued persuasion he might be able, as he put it +to himself, to talk her round. Her very flight from him, for such he +believed her absence to be, seemed to indicate that she herself was +doubtful of her power to hold out against him, and to this extent he +drew comfort from his immediate difficulty. + +He concluded before trying any new plan to call once again at the +clearing, in the hope that Mr. Coburn at least might have returned. The +next afternoon, therefore, saw him driving out along the now familiar +road. It was still hot, with the heavy enervating heat of air held +stagnant by the trees. The freshness of early summer had gone, and +there was a hint of approaching autumn in the darker greenery of the +firs, and the overmaturity of such shrubs and wild flowers as could +find along the edge of the road a precarious roothold on the patches of +ground not covered by pine needles. Merriman gazed unceasingly ahead at +the straight white ribbon of the road, as he pondered the problem of +what he should do if once again he should be disappointed in his quest. +Madeleine could not, he thought, remain indefinitely away. Mr. Coburn +at all events would have to return to his work, and it would be a +strange thing if he could not obtain from the father some indication of +his daughter’s whereabouts. + +But his call at the manager’s house was as fruitless on this occasion +as on those preceding. The woman from whom he had received the note +opened the door and repeated her former statement. Mr. and Miss Coburn +were still from home. + +Merriman turned away disconsolately, and walked slowly back across the +clearing and down the lane. Though he told himself he had expected +nothing from the visit, he was nevertheless bitterly disappointed with +its result. And worse than his disappointment was his inability to see +his next step, or even to think of any scheme which might lead him to +the object of his hopes. + +He trudged on down the lane, his head sunk and his brows knitted, only +half conscious of his surroundings. Looking up listlessly as he rounded +a bend, he stopped suddenly as if turned to stone, while his heart +first stood still, then began thumping wildly as if to choke him. A few +yards away and coming to meet him was Madeleine! + +She caught sight of him at the same instant and stopped with a low cry, +while an expression of dread came over her face. So for an appreciable +time they stood looking at one another, then Merriman, regaining the +power of motion, sprang forward and seized her hands. + +“Madeleine! Madeleine!” he cried brokenly. “My own one! My beloved!” He +almost sobbed as he attempted to strain her to his heart. + +But she wrenched herself from him. + +“No, no!” she gasped. “You must not! I told you. It cannot be.” + +He pleaded with her, fiercely, passionately, and at last despairingly. +But he could not move her. Always she repeated that it could not be. + +“At least tell me this,” he begged at last. “Would you marry me if this +syndicate did not exist; I mean if Mr. Coburn was not mixed up with +it?” + +At first she would not answer, but presently, overcome by his +persistence, she burst once again into tears and admitted that her fear +of disgrace arising through discovery of the syndicate’s activities was +her only reason for refusal. + +“Then,” said Merriman resolutely, “I will go back with you now and see +Mr. Coburn, and we will talk over what is to be done.” + +At this her eyes dilated with terror. + +“No, no!” she cried again. “He would be in danger. He would try +something that might offend the others, and his life might not be safe. +I tell you I don’t trust Captain Beamish and Mr. Bulla. I don’t think +they would stop at anything to keep their secret. He is trying to get +out of it, and he must not be hurried. He will do what he can.” + +“But, my dearest,” Merriman remonstrated, “it could do no harm, to talk +the matter over with him. That would commit him to nothing.” + +But she would not hear of it. + +“If he thought my happiness depended on it,” she declared, “he would +break with them at all costs. I could not risk it. You must go away. +Oh, my dear, you must go. Go, go!” she entreated almost hysterically, +“it will be best for us both.” + +Merriman, though beside himself with suffering, felt he could no longer +disregard her. + +“I shall go,” he answered sadly, “since you require it, but I will +never give you up. Not until one of us is dead or you marry someone +else—I will never give you up. Oh, Madeleine, have pity and give me +some hope; something to keep me alive till this trouble is over.” + +She was beginning to reply when she stopped suddenly and stood +listening. + +“The lorry!” she cried. “Go! Go!” Then pointing wildly in the direction +of the road, she turned and fled rapidly back towards the clearing. + +Merriman gazed after her until she passed round a corner of the lane +and was lost to sight among the trees. Then, with a weight of hopeless +despair on his heart, he began to walk towards the road. The lorry, +driven by Henri, passed him at the next bend, and Henri, though he +saluted with a show of respect, smiled sardonically as he noted the +other’s woebegone appearance. + +But Merriman neither knew nor cared what the driver thought. Almost +physically sick with misery and disappointment, he regained his taxi +and was driven back to Bordeaux. + +The next few days seemed to him like a nightmare of hideous reality and +permanence. He moved as a man in a dream, living under a shadow of +almost tangible weight, as a criminal must do who has been sentenced to +early execution. The longing to see Madeleine again, to hear the sound +of her voice, to feel her presence, was so intense as to be almost +unendurable. Again and again he said to himself that had she cared for +another, had she even told him that she could not care for him, he +would have taken his dismissal as irrevocable and gone to try and drag +out the remainder of his life elsewhere as best he could. But he was +maddened to think that the major difficulty—the overwhelming, +insuperable difficulty—of his suit had been overcome. She loved him! +Miraculous and incredible though it might seem—though it was—it was the +amazing truth. And that being so, it was beyond bearing that a mere +truckling to convention should be allowed to step in and snatch away +the ecstasy of happiness that was within his grasp. And worse still, +this truckling to convention was to save _him!_ What, he asked himself, +did it matter about _him?_ Even if the worst happened and she suffered +shame through her father, wasn’t all he wanted to be allowed to share +it with her? And if narrow, stupid fools did talk, what matter? They +could do without their companionship. + +Fits of wild rage alternated with periods of cold and numbing despair, +but as day succeeded day the desire to be near her grew until it could +no longer be denied. He dared not again attempt to force himself into +her presence, lest she should be angry and shatter irrevocably the hope +to which he still clung with desperation. But he might without fear of +disaster be nearer to her for a time. He hired a bicycle, and after +dark had fallen that evening he rode out to the lane, and leaving his +machine on the road, walked to the edge of the clearing. It was a +perfect night, calm and silent, though with a slight touch of chill in +the air. A crescent moon shone soft and silvery, lighting up pallidly +the open space, gleaming on the white wood of the freshly cut stumps, +and throwing black shadows from the ghostly looking buildings. It was +close on midnight, and Merriman looked eagerly across the clearing to +the manager’s house. He was not disappointed. There, in the window that +he knew belonged to her room, shone a light. + +He slowly approached, keeping on the fringe of the clearing and beneath +the shadow of the trees. Some shrubs had taken root on the open ground, +and behind a clump of these, not far from the door, he lay down, filled +his pipe, and gave himself up to his dreams. The light still showed in +the window, but even as he looked it went out, leaving the front of the +house dark and, as it seemed to him, unfriendly and forbidding. +“Perhaps she’ll look out before going to bed,” he thought, as he gazed +disconsolately at the blank, unsympathetic opening. But he could see no +movement therein. + +He lost count of time as he lay dreaming of the girl whose existence +had become more to him than his very life, and it was not until he +suddenly realized that he had become stiff and cramped from the cold +that he looked at his watch. Nearly two! Once more he glanced +sorrowfully at the window, realizing that no comfort was to be obtained +therefrom, and decided he might as well make his way back, for all the +ease of mind he was getting. + +He turned slowly to get up, but just as he did so he noticed a slight +movement at the side of the house before him, and he remained +motionless, gazing intently forward. Then, spellbound, he watched Mr. +Coburn leave by the side door, walk quickly to the shed, unlock a door, +and disappear within. + +There was something so secretive in the way the manager looked around +before venturing into the open, and so stealthy about his whole walk +and bearing, that Merriman’s heart beat more quickly as he wondered if +he was now on the threshold of some revelation of the mystery of that +outwardly innocent place. Obeying a sudden instinct, he rose from his +hiding-place in the bushes and crept silently across the sward to the +door by which the other had entered. + +It was locked, and the whole place was dark and silent. Were it not for +what he had just seen, Merriman would have believed it deserted. But it +was evident that some secret and perhaps sinister activity was in +progress within, and for the moment he forgot even Madeleine in his +anxiety to learn its nature. + +He crept silently round the shed, trying each door and peering into +each window, but without result. All remained fast and in darkness, and +though he listened with the utmost intentness of which he was capable, +he could not catch any sound. + +His round of the building completed, he paused in doubt. Should he +retire while there was time, and watch for Mr. Coburn’s reappearance +with perhaps some of his accomplices, or should he wait at the door and +tackle him on the matter when he came out? His first preference was for +the latter course, but as he thought it over he felt it would be better +to reserve his knowledge, and he turned to make for cover. + +But even as he did so he heard the manager say in low harsh tones: +“Hands up now, or I fire!” and swinging round, he found himself gazing +into the bore of a small deadly-looking repeating pistol. + +Automatically he raised his arms, and for a few moments both men stood +motionless, staring perplexedly at one another. Then Mr. Coburn lowered +the pistol and attempted a laugh, a laugh nervous, shaky, and without +merriment. His lips smiled, but his eyes remained cold and venomous. + +“Good heavens, Merriman, but you did give me a start,” he cried, making +an evident effort to be jocular. “What in all the world are you doing +here at this hour? Sorry for my greeting, but one has to be careful +here. You know the district is notorious for brigands.” + +Merriman was not usually very prompt to meet emergencies. He generally +realized when it was too late what he ought to have said or done in any +given circumstances. But on this occasion a flash of veritable +inspiration revealed a way by which he might at one and the same time +account for his presence, disarm the manager’s suspicions, and perhaps +even gain his point with regard to Madeleine. He smiled back at the +other. + +“Sorry for startling you. Mr. Coburn. I have been looking for you for +some days to discuss a very delicate matter, and I came out late this +evening in the hope of attracting your attention after Miss Coburn had +retired, so that our chat could be quite confidential. But in the +darkness I fell and hurt my knee, and I spent so much time in waiting +for it to get better that I was ashamed to go to the house. Imagine my +delight when, just as I was turning to leave, I saw you coming down to +the shed, and I followed with the object of trying to attract your +attention.” + +He hardly expected that Mr. Coburn would have accepted his statement, +but whatever the manager believed privately, he gave no sign of +suspicion. + +“I’m glad your journey was not fruitless,” he answered courteously. “As +a matter of fact, my neuralgia kept me from sleeping, and I found I had +forgotten my bottle of aspirin down here, where I had brought it for +the same purpose this morning. It seemed worth the trouble of coming +for it, and I came.” + +As he spoke Mr. Coburn took from his pocket and held up for Merriman’s +inspection a tiny phial half full of white tablets. + +It was now Merriman’s turn to be sceptical, but he murmured polite +regrets in as convincing a way as he was able. “Let us go back into my +office,” the manager continued. “If you want a private chat you can +have it there.” + +He unlocked the door, and passing in first, lit a reading lamp on his +desk. Then relocking the door behind his visitor and unostentatiously +slipping the key into his pocket, he sat down at the desk, waved +Merriman to a chair, and producing a box of cigars, passed it across. + +The windows, Merriman noticed, were covered by heavy blinds, and it was +evident that no one could see into the room, nor could the light be +observed from without. The door behind him was locked, and in Mr. +Coburn’s pocket was the key as well as a revolver, while Merriman was +unarmed. Moreover, Mr. Coburn was the larger and heavier, if not the +stronger man of the two. It was true his words and manner were those of +a friend, but the cold hatred in his eyes revealed his purpose. +Merriman instantly realized he was in very real personal danger, and it +was borne in on him that if he was to get out of that room alive, it +was to his own wits he must trust. + +But he was no coward, and he did not forget to limp as he crossed the +room, nor did his hand shake as he stretched it out to take a cigar. +When he came within the radius of the lamp he noticed with satisfaction +that his coat was covered with fragments of moss and leaves, and he +rather ostentatiously brushed these away, partly to prove to the other +his calmness, and partly to draw attention to them in the hope that +they would be accepted as evidence of his fall. + +Fearing lest if they began a desultory conversation he might be tricked +by his astute opponent into giving himself away, he left the latter no +opportunity to make a remark, but plunged at once into his subject. + +“I feel myself, Mr. Coburn,” he began, “not a little in your debt for +granting me this interview. But the matter on which I wish to speak to +you is so delicate and confidential, that I think you will agree that +any precautions against eavesdroppers are justifiable.” + +He spoke at first somewhat formally, but as interest in his subject +quickened, he gradually became more conversational. + +“The first thing I have to tell you,” he went on, “may not be very +pleasant hearing to you, but it is a matter of almost life and death +importance to me. I have come, Mr. Coburn, very deeply and sincerely to +love your daughter.” + +Mr. Coburn frowned slightly, but he did not seem surprised, nor did he +reply except by a slight bow. Merriman continued: + +“That in itself need not necessarily be of interest to you, but there +is more to tell, and it is in this second point that the real +importance of my statement lies, and on it hinges everything that I +have to say to you. Madeleine, sir, has given me a definite assurance +that my love for her is returned.” + +Still Mr. Coburn made no answer, save then by another slight +inclination of his head, but his eyes had grown anxious and troubled. + +“Not unnaturally,” Merriman resumed, “I begged her to marry me, but she +saw fit to decline. In view of the admission she had just made, I was +somewhat surprised that her refusal was so vehement. I pressed her for +the reason, but she utterly declined to give it. Then an idea struck +me, and I asked her if it was because she feared that your connection +with this syndicate might lead to unhappiness. At first she would not +reply nor give me any satisfaction, but at last by persistent +questioning, and only when she saw I knew a great deal more about the +business than she did herself, she admitted that that was indeed the +barrier. Not to put too fine a point on it—it is better, is it not, +sir, to be perfectly candid—she is living in terror and dread of your +arrest, and she won’t marry me for fear that if it were to happen she +might bring disgrace on me.” + +Mr. Coburn had not moved during this speech, except that his face had +become paler and the look of cold menace in his eyes seemed charged +with a still more vindictive hatred. Then he answered slowly: + +“I can only assume, Mr. Merriman, that your mind has become temporarily +unhinged, but even with such an excuse, you cannot really believe that +I am going to wait here and listen to you making such statements.” + +Merriman bent forward. + +“Sir,” he said earnestly, “I give you my word of honor and earnestly +ask you to believe that I am approaching you as a friend. I am myself +an interested party. I have sought this interview for Madeleine’s sake. +For her sake, and for her sake only, I have come to ask you to discuss +with me the best way out of the difficulty.” + +Mr. Coburn rose abruptly. + +“The best way out of the difficulty,” he declared, no longer attempting +to disguise the hatred he felt, “is for you to take yourself off and +never to show your face here again. I am amazed at you.” He took his +automatic pistol out of his pocket. “Don’t you know that you are +completely in my power? If I chose I could shoot you like a dog and +sink your body in the river, and no one would ever know what had become +of you.” + +Merriman’s heart was beating rapidly. He had the uncomfortable +suspicion that he had only to turn his back to get a bullet into it. He +assumed a confidence he was far from feeling. + +“On the contrary, Mr. Coburn,” he said quietly, “it is you who are in +our power. I’m afraid you don’t quite appreciate the situation. It is +true you could shoot me now, but if you did, nothing could save you. It +would be the rope for you and prison for your confederates, and what +about your daughter then? I tell you, sir, I’m not such a fool as you +take me for. Knowing what I do, do you think it likely I should put +myself in your power unless I knew I was safe?” + +His assurance was not without its effect. The other’s face grew paler +and he sat heavily down in his chair. + +“I’ll hear what you have to say,” he said harshly, though without +letting go his weapon. + +“Then let me begin at the beginning. You remember that first evening I +was here, when you so kindly supplied me with petrol? Sir, you were +correct when you told Captain Beamish and Mr. Bulla that I had noticed +the changing of the lorry number plate. I had.” + +Mr. Coburn started slightly, but he did not speak, and Merriman went +on: + +“I was interested, though the thing conveyed nothing to me. But some +time later I mentioned it casually, and Hilliard, who has a mania for +puzzles, overheard. He suggested my joining him on his trip, and +calling to see if we could solve it. You, Mr. Coburn, said another +thing to your friends—that though I might have noticed about the lorry, +you were certain neither Hilliard nor I had seen anything suspicious at +the clearing. There, sir, you were wrong. Though at that time we could +not tell what was going on, we knew it was something illegal.” + +Coburn was impressed at last. He sat motionless, staring at the +speaker. As Merriman remained silent, he moved. + +“Go on,” he said hoarsely, licking his dry lips. + +“I would ask you please to visualize the situation when we left. +Hilliard believed he was on the track of a criminal organization, +carrying on illicit operations on a large scale. He believed that by +lodging with the police the information he had gained, the break-up of +the organization and the capture of its members would be assured, and +that he would stand to gain much kudos. But he did not know what the +operations were, and he hesitated to come forward, lest by not waiting +and investigating further he should destroy his chance of handing over +to the authorities a complete case. He was therefore exceedingly keen +that we should carry on inquiries at what I may call the English end of +the business. Such was Hilliard’s attitude. I trust I make myself +clear.” + +Again Coburn nodded without speaking. + +“My position was different. I had by that time come to care for +Madeleine, and I saw the effect any disclosure must have on her. I +therefore wished things kept secret, and I urged Hilliard to carry out +his second idea and investigate further so as to make his case +complete. He made my assistance a condition of agreement, and I +therefore consented to help him.” + +Mr. Coburn was now ghastly, and was listening with breathless +earnestness to his visitor. Merriman realized what he had always +suspected, that the man was weak and a bit of a coward, and he began to +believe his bluff would carry him through. + +“I need not trouble you,” he went on, “with all the details of our +search. It is enough to say that we found out what we wanted. We went +to Hull, discovered the wharf at Ferriby, made the acquaintance of +Benson, and witnessed what went on there. We know all about Archer and +how he plants your stuff, and Morton, who had us under observation and +whom we properly tricked. I don’t claim any credit for it; all that +belongs to Hilliard. And I admit we did not learn certain small details +of your scheme. But the main points are clear—clear enough to get +convictions anyway.” + +After a pause to let his words create their full effect, Merriman +continued: + +“Then arose the problem that had bothered us before. Hilliard was wild +to go to the authorities with his story; on Madeleine’s account I still +wanted it kept quiet. I needn’t recount our argument. Suffice it to say +that at last we compromised. Hilliard agreed to wait for a month. For +the sake of our friendship and the help I had given him, he undertook +to give me a month to settle something about Madeleine. Mr. Coburn, +nearly half that month is gone and I am not one step farther on.” + +The manager wiped the drops of sweat from his pallid brow. Merriman’s +quiet, confident manner, with its apparent absence of bluff or threat, +had had its effect on him. He was evidently thoroughly frightened, and +seemed to think it no longer worth while to plead ignorance. As +Merriman had hoped and intended, he appeared to conclude that +conciliation would be his best chance. + +“Then no one but you two know so far?” he asked, a shifty, sly look +passing over his face. + +Merriman read his thoughts and bluffed again. + +“Yes and no,” he answered. “No one but we two know at present. On the +other hand, we have naturally taken all reasonable precautions. +Hilliard prepared a full statement of the matter which we both signed, +and this he sent to his banker with a request that unless he claimed it +in person before the given date, the banker was to convey it to +Scotland Yard. If anything happens to me here, Hilliard will go at once +to the Yard, and if anything happens to him our document will be sent +there. And in it we have suggested that if either of us disappear, it +will be equivalent to adding murder to the other charges made.” + +It was enough. Mr. Coburn sat, broken and completely cowed. To Merriman +he seemed suddenly to have become an old man. For several minutes +silence reigned, and then at last the other spoke. + +“What do you want me to do?” he asked, in a tremulous voice, hardly +louder than a whisper. + +Merriman’s heart leaped. + +“To consider your daughter, Mr. Coburn,” he answered promptly. “All I +want is to marry Madeleine, and for her sake I want you to get out of +this thing before the crash comes.” + +Mr. Coburn once more wiped the drops of sweat from his forehead. + +“Good lord!” he cried hoarsely. “Ever since it started I have been +trying to get out of it. I was forced into it against my will and I +would give my soul if I could do as you say and get free. But I can’t—I +can’t.” + +He buried his head in his hands and sat motionless, leaning on his +desk. + +“But your daughter, Mr. Coburn,” Merriman persisted. “For her sake +something must be done.” + +Mr. Coburn shook his clenched fists in the air. + +“Damnation take you!” he cried, with a sudden access of rage, “do you +think I care about myself? Do you think I’d sit here and listen to you +talking as you’ve done if it wasn’t for her? I tell you I’d shoot you +as you sit, if I didn’t know from my own observation that she is fond +of you. I swear it’s the only thing that has saved you.” He rose to his +feet and began pacing jerkily to and fro. “See here,” he continued +wildly, “go away from here before I do it. I can’t stand any more of +you at present. Go now and come back on Friday night at the same time, +and I’ll tell you of my decision. Here’s the key,” he threw it down on +the desk. “Get out quick before I do for you!” + +Merriman was for a moment inclined to stand his ground, but, realizing +that not only had he carried his point as far as he could have +expected, but also that his companion was in so excited a condition as +hardly to be accountable for his actions, he decided discretion was the +better part, and merely saying: “Very well, Friday night,” he unlocked +the door and took his leave. + +On the whole he was well pleased with his interview. In the first +place, he had by his readiness escaped an imminent personal danger. +What was almost as important, he had broken the ice with Mr. Coburn +about Madeleine, and the former had not only declared that he was aware +of the state of his daughter’s feelings, but he had expressed no +objection to the proposed match. Further, an understanding as to Mr. +Coburn’s own position had been come to. He had practically admitted +that the syndicate was a felonious conspiracy, and had stated that he +would do almost anything to get out of it. Finally he had promised a +decision on the whole question in three days’ time. Quite a triumph, +Merriman thought. + +On the other hand he had given the manager a warning of the danger +which the latter might communicate to his fellow-conspirators, with the +result that all of them might escape from the net in which Hilliard, at +any rate, wished to enmesh them. And just to this extent he had become +a co-partner in their crime. And though it was true that he had escaped +from his immediate peril, he had undoubtedly placed himself and +Hilliard in very real danger. It was by no means impossible that the +gang would decide to murder both of the men whose knowledge threatened +them, in the hope of bluffing the bank manager out of the letter which +they would believe he held. Merriman had invented this letter on the +spur of the moment and he would have felt a good deal happier if he +knew that it really existed. He decided that he would write to Hilliard +immediately and get him to make it a reality. + +A great deal, he thought, depended on the character of Coburn. If he +was weak and cowardly he would try to save his own skin and let the +others walk into the net. Particularly might he do this if he had +suffered at their hands in the way he suggested. On the other hand, a +strong man would undoubtedly consult his fellow-conspirators and see +that a pretty determined fight was made for their liberty and their +source of gain. + +He had thought of all this when it suddenly flashed into his mind that +Mr. Coburn’s presence in the shed at two in the morning in itself +required a lot of explanation. He did not for a moment believe the +aspirin story. The man had looked so shifty while he was speaking, that +even at the time Merriman had decided he was lying. What then could he +have been doing? + +He puzzled over the questions but without result. Then it occurred to +him that as he was doing nothing that evening he might as well ride out +again to the clearing and see if any nocturnal activities were +undertaken. + +Midnight therefore found him once more ensconced behind a group of +shrubs in full view of both the house and the shed. It was again a +perfect night, and again he lay dreaming of the girl who was so near in +body and in spirit, and yet so infinitely far beyond his reach. + +Time passed slowly, but the hours wore gradually round until his watch +showed two o’clock. Then, just as he was thinking that he need hardly +wait much longer, he was considerably thrilled to see Mr. Coburn once +more appear at the side door of the house, and in the same stealthy, +secretive way as on the previous night, walk hurriedly to the shed and +let himself in by the office door. + +At first Merriman thought of following him again in the hope of +learning the nature of these strange proceedings, but a moment’s +thought showed him he must run no risk of discovery. If Coburn learned +that he was being spied on he would at once doubt Merriman’s statement +that he knew the syndicate’s secret. It would be better, therefore, to +lie low and await events. + +But the only other interesting event that happened was that some +fifteen minutes later the manager left the shed, and with the same show +of secrecy returned to his house, disappearing into the side door. + +So intrigued was Merriman by the whole business that he determined to +repeat his visit the following night also. He did so, and once again +witnessed Mr. Coburn’s stealthy walk to the shed at two a.m., and his +equally stealthy return at two-fifteen. + +Rack his brains as he would over the problem of these nocturnal visits, +Merriman could think of no explanation. What for three consecutive +nights could bring the manager down to the sawmill? He could not +imagine, but he was clear it was not the pit-prop industry. + +If the _Girondin_ had been in he would have once more suspected +smuggling, but she was then at Ferriby. No, it certainly did not work +in with smuggling. Still less did it suggest false note printing, +unless—Merriman’s heart beat more quickly as a new idea entered his +mind. Suppose the notes were printed there, at the mill! Suppose there +was a cellar under the engine house, and suppose the work was done at +night? It was true they had not seen signs of a cellar, but if this +surmise was correct it was not likely they would. + +At first sight this theory seemed a real advance, but a little further +thought showed it had serious objections. Firstly, it did not explain +Coburn’s nightly visits. If the manager had spent some hours in the +works it might have indicated the working of a press, but what in that +way could be done in fifteen minutes? Further, and this seemed to put +the idea quite out of court, if the notes were being produced at the +clearing, why the changing of the lorry numbers? That would then be a +part of the business quite unconnected with the illicit traffic. After +much thought, Merriman had to admit to himself that here was one more +of the series of insoluble puzzles with which they found themselves +faced. + +The next night was Friday, and in accordance with the arrangement made +with Mr. Coburn, Merriman once again went out to the clearing, +presenting himself at the works door at two in the morning. Mr. Coburn +at once opened to his knock, and after locking the door, led the way to +his office. There he wasted no time in preliminaries. + +“I’ve thought this over, Merriman,” he said, and his manner was very +different from that of the previous interview, “and I’m bound to say +that I’ve realized that, though interested, your action towards me has +been correct not to say generous. Now I’ve made up my mind what to do, +and I trust you will see your way to fall in with my ideas. There is a +meeting of the syndicate on Thursday week. I should have been present +in any case, and I have decided that, whatever may be the result, I +will tell them I am going to break with them. I will give ill-health as +my reason for this step, and fortunately or unfortunately I can do this +with truth, as my heart is seriously diseased. I can easily provide the +necessary doctor’s certificates. If they accept my resignation, well +and good—I will emigrate to my brother in South America, and you and +Madeleine can be married. If they decline, well”—Mr. Coburn shrugged +his shoulders—“your embarrassment will be otherwise removed.” + +He paused. Merriman would have spoken, but Mr. Coburn held up his hand +for silence and went on: + +“I confess I have been terribly upset for the last three days to +discover my wisest course, and even now I am far from certain that my +decision is best. I do not want to go back on my former friends, and on +account of Madeleine I cannot go back on you. Therefore, I cannot warn +the others of their danger, but on the other hand I won’t give your +life into their hands. For if they knew what I know now, you and +Hilliard would be dead men inside twenty-four hours.” + +Mr. Coburn spoke simply and with a certain dignity, and Merriman found +himself disposed not only to believe what he had heard, but even to +understand and sympathize with the man in the embarrassing +circumstances in which he found himself. That his difficulties were of +his own making there could be but little doubt, but how far he had put +himself in the power of his associates through deliberate evil-doing, +and how far through mistakes or weakness, there was of course no way of +learning. + +At the end of an hour’s discussion, Mr. Coburn had agreed at all costs +to sever his connection with the syndicate, to emigrate to his brother +in Chile, and to do his utmost to induce his daughter to remain in +England to marry Merriman. On his side, Merriman undertook to hold back +the lodging of information at Scotland Yard for one more week, to +enable the other’s arrangements to be carried out. + +There being nothing to keep him in Bordeaux, Merriman left for London +that day, and the next evening he was closeted with Hilliard in the +latter’s rooms, discussing the affair. Hilliard at first was most +unwilling to postpone their visit to the Yard but he agreed on +Merriman’s explaining that he had pledged himself to the delay. + +So the days, for Merriman heavily weighted with anxiety and suspense, +began slowly to drag by. His fate and the fate of the girl he loved +hung in the balance, and not the least irksome feature of his position +was his own utter impotence. There was nothing that he could do—no +action which would take him out of himself and ease the tension of his +thoughts. As day succeeded day and the silence remained unbroken, he +became more and more upset. At the end of a week he was almost beside +himself with worry and chagrin, so much so that he gave up attending +his office altogether, and was only restrained from rushing back to +Bordeaux by the knowledge that to force himself once more on Madeleine +might be to destroy, once and for ever, any hopes he might otherwise +have had. + +It was now four days since the Thursday on which Mr. Coburn had stated +that the meeting of the syndicate was to have been held, and only three +days to the date on which the friends had agreed to tell their story at +Scotland Yard. What if he received no news during those three days? +Would Hilliard agree to a further postponement? He feared not, and he +was racked with anxiety as to whether he should cross that day to +France and seek another interview with Mr. Coburn. + +But, even as he sat with the morning paper in his hand, news was nearer +than he imagined. Listlessly he turned over the sheets, glancing with +but scant attention to the headlines, automatically running his eyes +over the paragraphs. And when he came to one headed “Mystery of a +Taxi-cab,” he absent-mindedly began to read it also. + +But he had not gone very far when his manner changed. Starting to his +feet, he stared at the column with horror-stricken eyes, while his face +grew pallid and his pipe dropped to the floor from his open mouth. With +the newspaper still tightly grasped in his hand, he ran three steps at +a time down the stairs of his flat, and calling a taxi, was driven to +Scotland Yard. + + + + +PART TWO. +THE PROFESSIONALS + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +MURDER! + + +Almost exactly fifteen hours before Merriman’s call at Scotland Yard, +to wit, about eight o’clock on the previous evening, Inspector Willis +of the Criminal Investigation Department was smoking in the +sitting-room of his tiny house in Brixton. George Willis was a tall, +somewhat burly man of five-and-forty, with heavy, clean-shaven, +expressionless features which would have made his face almost stupid, +had it not been redeemed by a pair of the keenest of blue eyes. He was +what is commonly known as a safe man, not exactly brilliant, but +plodding and tenacious to an extraordinary degree. His forte was slight +clues, and he possessed that infinite capacity for taking pains which +made his following up of them approximate to genius. In short, though a +trifle slow, he was already looked on as one of the most efficient and +reliable inspectors of the Yard. + +He had had a heavy day, and it was with a sigh of relief that he picked +up the evening paper and stretched himself luxuriously in his +easy-chair. But he was not destined to enjoy a long rest. Hardly had he +settled himself to his satisfaction when the telephone bell rang. He +was wanted back at the Yard immediately. + +He swore under his breath, then, calling the news to his wife, he +slipped on his waterproof and left the house. The long spell of fine +weather had at last broken, and the evening was unpleasant, indeed +unusually inclement for mid-September. All day the wind had been gusty +and boisterous, and now a fine drizzle of rain had set in, which was +driven in sheets against the grimy buildings and whirled in eddies +round the street corners. Willis walked quickly along the shining +pavements, and in a few minutes reached his destination. His chief was +waiting for him. + +“Ah, Willis,” the great man greeted him, “I’m glad you weren’t out. A +case has been reported which I want you to take over; a suspected +murder; man found dead in a taxi at King’s Cross.” + +“Yes, sir,” Willis answered unemotionally. “Any details forward?” + +“None, except that the man is dead and that they’re holding the taxi at +the station. I have asked Dr. Horton to come round, and you had both +better get over there as quickly as possible.” + +“Yes, sir,” Willis replied again, and quickly left the room. + +His preparations were simple. He had only to arrange for a couple of +plain clothes men and a photographer with a flashlight apparatus to +accompany him, and to bring from his room a handbag containing his +notebook and a few other necessary articles. He met the police doctor +in the corridor and, the others being already in waiting, the five men +immediately left the great building and took a car to the station. + +“What’s the case, inspector, do you know?” Dr. Horton inquired as they +slipped deftly through the traffic. + +“The Chief said suspected murder; man found dead in a taxi at King’s +Cross. He had no details.” + +“How was it done?” + +“Don’t know, sir. Chief didn’t say.” + +After a few brief observations on the inclemency of the weather, +conversation waned between the two men, and they followed the example +of their companions, and sat watching with a depressed air the +rain-swept streets and the hurrying foot passengers on the wet +pavements. All five were annoyed at being called out, as all were tired +and had been looking forward to an evening of relaxation at their +homes. + +They made a quick run, reaching the station in a very few minutes. +There a constable identified the inspector. + +“They’ve taken the taxi round to the carrier’s yard at the west side of +the station, sir,” he said to Willis. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show +you the way.” + +The officer led them to an enclosed and partially roofed area at the +back of the parcels office, where the vans from the shops unloaded +their traffic. In a corner under the roof and surrounded by a little +knot of men stood a taxi-cab. As Willis and his companions approached, +a sergeant of police separated himself from the others and came +forward. + +“We have touched nothing, sir,” he announced. “When we found the man +was dead we didn’t even move the body.” + +Willis nodded. + +“Quite right, sergeant. It’s murder, I suppose?” + +“Looks like it, sir. The man was shot.” + +“Shot? Anything known of the murderer?” + +“Not much, I’m afraid, sir. He got clear away in Tottenham Court Road, +as far as I can understand it. But you’ll hear what the driver has to +say.” + +Again the Inspector nodded, as he stepped up to the vehicle. + +“Here’s Dr. Newman,” the sergeant continued, indicating an exceedingly +dapper and well-groomed little man with medico written all over him. +“He was the nearest medical man we could get.” + +Willis turned courteously to the other. + +“An unpleasant evening to be called out, doctor,” he remarked. “The +man’s dead, I understand? Was he dead when you arrived?” + +“Yes, but only a very little time. The body was quite warm.” + +“And the cause of death?” + +“Seeing that I could do nothing, I did not move the body until you +Scotland Yard gentlemen had seen it, and therefore I cannot say +professionally. But there is a small hole in the side of the coat over +the heart.” The doctor spoke with a slightly consequential air. + +“A bullet wound?” + +“A bullet wound unquestionably.” + +Inspector Willis picked up an acetylene bicycle lamp which one of the +men had procured and directed its beam into the cab. + +The corpse lay in the back corner seat on the driver’s side, the head +lolling back sideways against the cushions and crushing into a +shapeless mass the gray Homburg hat. The mouth and eyes were open and +the features twisted as if from sudden pain. The face was long and +oval, the hair and eyes dark, and there was a tiny black mustache with +waxed ends. A khaki colored waterproof, open in front, revealed a gray +tweed suit, across the waistcoat of which shone a gold watch chain. Tan +shoes covered the feet. On the left side of the body just over the +heart was a little round hole in the waterproof coat Willis stooped and +smelled the cloth. + +“No blackening and no smell of burned powder,” he thought. “He must +have been shot from outside the cab.” But he found it hard to +understand how such a shot could have been fired from the populous +streets of London. The hole also seemed too far round towards the back +of the body to suggest that the bullet had come in through the open +window. The point was puzzling, but Willis pulled himself up sharply +with the reminder that he must not begin theorizing until he had +learned all the facts. + +Having gazed at the gruesome sight until he had impressed its every +detail on his memory, he turned to his assistant. “Get ahead with your +flashlight, Kirby,” he ordered. “Take views from all the angles you +can. The constable will give you a hand. Meantime, sergeant, give me an +idea of the case. What does the driver say?” + +“He’s here, sir,” the officer returned, pointing to a small, slight +individual in a leather coat and cap, with a sallow, frightened face +and pathetic, dog-like eyes which fixed themselves questioningly on +Willis’s face as the sergeant led their owner forward. + +“You might tell me what you know, driver.” + +The man shifted nervously from one foot to the other. + +“It was this way, sir,” he began. He spoke earnestly, and to Willis, +who was accustomed to sizing up rapidly those with whom he dealt, he +seemed a sincere and honest man. “I was driving down Piccadilly from +Hyde Park Corner looking out for a fare, and when I gets just by the +end of Bond Street two men hails me. One was this here man what’s dead, +the other was a big, tall gent. I pulls in to the curb, and they gets +in, and the tall gent he says ‘King’s Cross.’ I starts off by +Piccadilly Circus and Shaftesbury Avenue, but when I gets into +Tottenham Court Road about the corner of Great Russell Street, one of +them says through the tube, ‘Let me down here at the corner of Great +Russell Street,’ he sez. I pulls over to the curb, and the tall gent he +gets out and stands on the curb and speaks in to the other one. Then I +shall follow by the three o’clock tomorrow,’ he sez, and he shuts the +door and gives me a bob and sez, ‘That’s for yourself,’ he sez, ‘and my +friend will square up at the station,’ he sez. I came on here, and when +this here man opens the door,” he indicated a porter standing by, “why, +the man’s dead. And that’s all I knows about it.” + +The statement was made directly and convincingly, and Willis frowned as +he thought that such apparently simple cases proved frequently to be +the most baffling in the end. In his slow, careful way he went over in +his mind what he had heard, and then began to try for further details. + +“At what time did you pick up the men?” he inquired. + +“About half past seven, or maybe twenty to eight” + +“Did you see where they were coming from?” + +“No, sir. They were standing on the curb, and the tall one he holds up +his hand for me to pull over.” + +“Would you know the tall man again?” + +The driver shook his head. + +“I don’t know as I should, sir. You see, it was raining, and he had his +collar up round his neck and his hat pulled down over his eyes, so as I +couldn’t right see his face.” + +“Describe him as best you can.” + +“He was a tall man, longer than what you are, and broad too. A big man, +I should call him.” + +“How was he dressed?” + +“He had a waterproof, khaki color—about the color of your own—with the +collar up round his neck.” + +“His hat?” + +“His hat was a soft felt, dark, either brown or green, I couldn’t +rightly say, with the brim turned down in front.” + +“And his face? Man alive, you must have seen his face when he gave you +the shilling.” + +The driver stared helplessly. Then he answered: + +“I couldn’t be sure about his face, not with the way he had his collar +up and his hat pulled down. It was raining and blowing something +crool.” + +“Did the other man reply when the tall one spoke into the cab?” + +“Didn’t hear no reply at all, sir.” + +Inspector Willis thought for a moment and then started on another tack. + +“Did you hear a shot?” he asked sharply. + +“I heard it, sir, right enough, but I didn’t think it was a shot at the +time, and I didn’t think it was in my cab. It was just when we were +passing the Apollo Theater, and there was a big block of cars setting +people down, and I thought it was a burst tire. ‘There’s somebody’s +tire gone to glory,’ I sez to myself, but I give it no more thought, +for it takes you to be awake to drive up Shaftesbury Avenue when the +theaters are starting.” + +“You said you didn’t think the shot was in your cab; why do you think +so now?” + +“It was the only sound like a shot, sir, and if the man has been shot, +it would have been then.” + +Willis nodded shortly. There was something puzzling here. If the shot +had been fired by the other occupant of the cab, as the man’s evidence +seemed to indicate, there would certainly have been powder blackening +on the coat. If not, and if the bullet had entered from without, the +other passenger would surely have stopped the car and called a +policeman. Presently he saw that some corroborative evidence might +exist. If the bullet came from without the left-hand window must have +been down, as there was no hole in the glass. In this case the wind, +which was blowing from the north-west, would infallibly have driven in +the rain, and drops would still show on the cushions. He must look for +them without delay. + +He paused to ask the driver one more question, whether he could +identify the voice which told him through the speaking tube to stop +with that of the man who had given him the shilling. The man answering +affirmatively, Willis turned to one of the plain clothes men. + +“You have heard this driver’s statement, Jones,” he said. “You might +get away at once and see the men who were on point duty both at the +corner of Great Russell Street where the tall man got out, and in +Piccadilly, where both got in. Try the hotels thereabouts, the +Albemarle and any others you can think of. If you can get any +information follow it up and keep me advised at the Yard of your +movements.” + +The man hurried away and Willis moved over once more to the taxi. The +assistant had by this time finished his flashlight photographs, and the +inspector, picking up the bicycle lamp, looked again into the interior. +A moment’s examination showed him there were no raindrops on the +cushions, but his search nevertheless was not unproductive. Looking +more carefully this time than previously, he noticed on the floor of +the cab a dark object almost hidden beneath the seat. He drew it out. +It was a piece of thick black cloth about a yard square. + +Considerably mystified, he held it up by two corners, and then his +puzzle became solved. In the cloth were two small holes, and round one +of them the fabric was charred and bore the characteristic smell of +burned powder. It was clear what had been done. With the object +doubtless of hiding the flash as well as of muffling the report, the +murderer had covered his weapon with a double thickness of heavy cloth. +No doubt it had admirably achieved its purpose, and Willis seized it +eagerly in the hope that it might furnish him with a clue as to its +owner. + +He folded it and set it aside for further examination, turning back to +the body. Under his direction it was lifted out, placed on an ambulance +stretcher provided by the railwaymen, and taken to a disused office +close by. There the clothes were removed and, while the doctors busied +themselves with the remains, Willis went through the pockets and +arranged their contents on one of the desks. + +The clothes themselves revealed but little information. The waterproof +and shoes, it is true, bore the makers’ labels, but both these articles +were the ready-made products of large firms, and inquiry at their +premises would be unlikely to lead to any result. None of the garments +bore any name or identifiable mark. + +Willis then occupied himself the contents of the pockets. Besides the +gold watch and chain, bunch of keys, knife, cigarette case, loose coins +and other small objects which a man such as the deceased might +reasonably be expected to carry, there were two to which the inspector +turned with some hope of help. + +The first was a folded sheet of paper which proved to be a receipted +hotel bill. It showed that a Mr. Coburn and another had stayed in the +Peveril Hotel in Russell Square during the previous four days. When +Willis saw it he gave a grunt of satisfaction. It would doubtless offer +a ready means to learn the identity of the deceased, as well possibly +as of the other, in whom Willis was already even more interested. +Moreover, so good a clue must be worked without delay. He called over +the second plain clothes man. + +“Take this bill to the Peveril, Matthews,” he ordered. “Find out if the +dead man is this Coburn, and if possible get on the track of his +companion. If I don’t get anything better here I shall follow you +round, but keep the Yard advised of your movements in any case.” + +Before the man left Willis examined the second object. It was a +pocket-book, but it proved rather disappointing. It contained two five +pound Bank of England notes, nine one pound and three ten shilling +Treasury notes, the return half of a third-class railway ticket from +Hull to King’s Cross, a Great Northern cloakroom ticket, a few visiting +cards inscribed “Mr. Francis Coburn,” and lastly, the photograph by +Cramer of Regent Sweet of a pretty girl of about twenty. + +Willis mentally noted the three possible clues these articles seemed to +suggest; inquiries in Hull, the discovery of the girl through Messrs. +Cramer, and third and most important, luggage or a parcel in some Great +Northern cloakroom, which on recovery might afford him help. The +presence of the money also seemed important, as this showed that the +motive for the murder had not been robbery. + +Having made a parcel of the clothes for transport to the Yard, reduced +to writing the statements of the driver and of the porter who had made +the discovery, and arranged with the doctors as to the disposal of the +body, Willis closed and locked the taxi, and sent it in charge of a +constable to Scotland Yard. Then with the cloakroom ticket he went +round to see if he could find the office which had issued it. + +The rooms were all shut for the night, but an official from the +stationmaster’s office went round with him, and after a brief search +they found the article for which the ticket was a voucher. It was a +small suitcase, locked, and Willis brought it away with him, intending +to open it at his leisure. His work at the station being by this time +complete, he returned to the Yard, carrying the suitcase. There, though +it was growing late, he forced the lock, and sat down to examine the +contents. But from them he received no help. The bag contained just the +articles which a man in middle-class circumstances would naturally +carry on a week or a fortnight’s trip—a suit of clothes, clean linen, +toilet appliances, and such like. Nowhere could Willis find anything of +interest. + +Telephone messages, meanwhile, had come in from the two plain clothes +men. Jones reported that he had interviewed all the constables who had +been on point duty at the places in question, but without result. Nor +could any of the staffs of the neighboring hotels or restaurants assist +him. + +The call from the Peveril conveyed slightly more information. The +manageress, so Matthews said, had been most courteous and had sent for +several members of her staff in the hope that some of them might be +able to answer his questions. But the sum total of the knowledge he had +gained was not great. In the first place, it was evident that the +deceased was Mr. Coburn himself. It appeared that he was accompanied by +a Miss Coburn, whom the manageress believed to be his daughter. He had +been heard addressing her as Madeleine. The two had arrived in time for +dinner five days previously, registering “F. Coburn and Miss Coburn,” +and had left about eleven on the morning of the murder. On each of the +four days of their stay they had been out a good deal, but they had +left and returned at different hours, and, therefore, appeared not to +have spent their time together. They seemed, however, on very +affectionate terms. No address had been left to which letters might be +forwarded, and it was not known where the two visitors had intended to +go when they left. Neither the manageress nor any of the staff had seen +anyone resembling the tall man. + +Inspector Willis was considerably disappointed by the news. He had +hoped that Mr. Coburn’s fellow-guest would have been the murderer, and +that he would have left some trace from which his identity could have +been ascertained. However, the daughter’s information would no doubt be +valuable, and his next care must be to find her and learn her story. + +She might of course save him the trouble by herself coming forward. She +would be almost certain to see an account of the murder in the papers, +and even if not, her father’s disappearance would inevitably lead her +to communicate with the police. + +But Willis could not depend on this. She might, for example, have left +the previous day on a voyage, and a considerable time might elapse +before she learned of the tragedy. No; he would have to trace her as if +she herself were the assassin. + +He looked at his watch and was surprised to learn that it was after one +o’clock. Nothing more could be done that night, and with a sigh of +relief he turned his steps homewards. + +Next morning he was back at the Yard by eight o’clock. His first care +was to re-examine the taxi by daylight for some mark or article left by +its recent occupants. He was extraordinarily thorough and painstaking, +scrutinizing every inch of the floor and cushions, and trying the door +handles and window straps for finger marks, but without success. He +went over once again the clothes the dead man was wearing as well as +those in the suitcase, took prints from the dead man’s fingers, and +began to get things in order for the inquest. Next, he saw Dr. Horton, +and learned that Mr. Coburn had been killed by a bullet from an +exceedingly small automatic pistol, one evidently selected to make the +minimum of noise and flash, and from which a long carry was not +required. + +When the details were complete he thought it would not be too early to +call at the Peveril and begin the search for Miss Coburn. He therefore +sent for a taxi, and a few minutes later was seated in the office of +the manageress. She repeated what Matthews had already told him, and he +personally interviewed the various servants with whom the Coburns had +come in contact. He also searched the rooms they had occupied, examined +with a mirror the blotting paper on a table at which the young lady had +been seen to write, and interrogated an elderly lady visitor with whom +she had made acquaintance. + +But he learned nothing. The girl had vanished completely, and he could +see no way in which he might be able to trace her. + +He sat down in the lounge and gave himself up to thought. And then +suddenly an idea flashed into his mind. He started, sat for a moment +rigid, then gave a little gasp. + +“Lord!” he muttered. “But I’m a blamed idiot. How in Hades did I miss +that?” + +He sprang to his feet and hurried out of the lounge. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +A PROMISING CLUE + + +The consideration which had thus suddenly occurred to Inspector Willis +was the extraordinary importance of the fact that the tall traveller +had spoken through the tube to the driver. He marveled how he could +have overlooked its significance. To speak through a taxi tube one must +hold up the mouthpiece, and that mouthpiece is usually made of +vulcanite or some similar substance. What better surface, Willis +thought delightedly but anxiously, could be found for recording +finger-prints? If only the tall man had made the blunder of omitting to +wear gloves, he would have left evidence which might hang him! And he, +Willis, like the cursed imbecile that he was, had missed the point! +Goodness only knew if he was not already too late. If so, he thought +grimly, it was all up with his career at the Yard. + +He ran to the telephone. A call to the Yard advised him that the taxi +driver, on being informed he was no longer required, had left with his +vehicle. He rapidly rang up the man’s employers, asking them to stop +the cab directly they came in touch with it, then hurrying out of the +hotel, he hailed a taxi and drove to the rank on which the man was +stationed. + +His luck was in. There were seven vehicles on the stand, and his man, +having but recently arrived, had only worked up to the middle of the +queue. The sweat was standing in large drops on Inspector Willis’s brow +as he eagerly asked had the tube been touched since leaving Scotland +Yard, and his relief when he found he was still in time was +overwhelming. Rather unsteadily he entered the vehicle and ordered the +driver to return to the Yard. + +On arrival he was not long in making his test. Sending for his +finger-print apparatus, he carefully powdered the vulcanite mouthpiece, +and he could scarcely suppress a cry of satisfaction when he saw +shaping themselves before his eyes three of the clearest prints he had +ever had the good fortune to come across. On one side of the mouthpiece +was the mark of a right thumb, and on the other those of a first and +second finger. + +“Lord!” he muttered to himself, “that was a near thing. If I had missed +it, I could have left the Yard for good and all. It’s the first thing +the Chief would have asked about.” + +His delight was unbounded. Here was as perfect and definite evidence as +he could have wished for. If he could find the man whose fingers fitted +the marks, that would be the end of his case. + +He left the courtyard intending to return to the Peveril and resume the +tracing of Miss Coburn, but before he reached the door of the great +building he was stopped. A gentleman had called to see him on urgent +business connected with the case. + +It was Merriman—Merriman almost incoherent with excitement and +distress. He still carried the newspaper in his hand, which had so much +upset him. Willis pulled forward a chair, invited the other to be +seated, and took the paper. The paragraph was quite short, and read: + +“MYSTERY OF A TAXI-CAB + + +“A tragedy which recalls the well-known detective novel _The Mystery of +the Hansom Cab_ occurred last evening in one of the most populous +thoroughfares in London. It appears that about eight o’clock two men +engaged a taxi in Piccadilly to take them to King’s Cross. Near the +Oxford Street end of Tottenham Court Road the driver was ordered to +stop. One of the men alighted, bade good-night to his companion, and +told the driver to proceed to King’s Cross, where his friend would +settle up. On reaching the station there was no sign of the friend, and +a search revealed him lying dead in the taxi with a bullet wound in his +heart. From papers found on the body the deceased is believed to be a +Mr. Francis Coburn, but his residence has not yet been ascertained.” + + +Inspector Willis laid down the paper and turned to his visitor. + +“You are interested in the case, sir?” he inquired. + +“I knew him, I think,” Merriman stammered. “At least I know someone of +the name. I—” + +Willis glanced keenly at the newcomer. Here was a man who must, judging +by his agitation, have been pretty closely connected with Francis +Coburn. Suspicious of everyone, the detective recognized that there +might be more here than met the eye. He drew out his notebook. + +“I am glad you called, sir,” he said pleasantly. “We shall be very +pleased to get any information you can give us. What was your friend +like?” + +His quiet, conversational manner calmed the other. + +“Rather tall,” he answered anxiously, “with a long pale face, and +small, black, pointed mustache.” + +“I’m afraid, sir, that’s the man. I think if you don’t mind you had +better see if you can identify him.” + +“I want to,” Merriman cried, leaping to his feet “I must know at once.” + +Willis rose also. + +“Then come this way.” + +They drove quickly across town. A glance was sufficient to tell +Merriman that the body was indeed that of his former acquaintance. His +agitation became painful. + +“You’re right!” he cried. “It is he! And it’s my fault. Oh, if I had +only done what she said! If I had only kept out of it!” + +He wrung his hands in his anguish. + +Willis was much interested. Though this man could not be personally +guilty—he was not tall enough, for one thing—he must surely know enough +about the affair to put the inspector on the right track. The latter +began eagerly to await his story. + +Merriman for his part was anxious for nothing so much as to tell it. He +was sick to death of plots and investigations and machinations, and +while driving to the Yard he had made up his mind that if the dead man +were indeed Madeleine’s father, he would tell the whole story of his +and Hilliard’s investigations into the doings of the syndicate. When, +therefore, they were back in the inspector’s room, he made a determined +effort to pull himself together and speak calmly. + +“Yes,” he said, “I know him. He lived near Bordeaux with his daughter. +She will be absolutely alone. You will understand that I must go out to +her by the first train, but until then I am at your service. + +“You are a relation perhaps?” + +“No, only an acquaintance, but—I’m going to tell you the whole story, +and I may as well say, once for all, that it is my earnest hope some +day to marry Miss Coburn.” + +Willis bowed and inquired, “Is Miss Coburn’s name Madeleine?” + +“Yes,” Merriman answered, surprise and eagerness growing in his face. + +“Then,” Willis went on, “you will be pleased to learn that she is not +in France—at least, I think not. She left the Peveril Hotel in Russell +Square about eleven o’clock yesterday morning.” + +Merriman sprang to his feet. + +“In London?” he queried excitedly. “Where? What address?” + +“We don’t know yet, but we shall soon find her. Now, sir, you can’t do +anything for the moment, and I am anxious to hear your story. Take your +own time, and the more details you can give me the better.” + +Merriman controlled himself with an effort. + +“Well,” he said slowly, sitting down again, “I _have_ something to tell +you, inspector. My friend Hilliard—Claud Hilliard of the Customs +Department—and I have made a discovery. We have accidentally come on +what we believe is a criminal conspiracy, we don’t know for what +purpose, except that it is something big and fraudulent. We were coming +to the Yard in any case to tell what we had learned, but this murder +has precipitated things. We can no longer delay giving our information. +The only thing is that I should have liked Hilliard to be here to tell +it instead of me, for our discovery is really due to him.” + +“I can see Mr. Hilliard afterwards. Meantime tell me the story +yourself.” + +Merriman thereupon related his and Hilliard’s adventures and +experiences from his own first accidental visit to the clearing when he +noticed the changing of the lorry number, right up to his last meeting +with Mr. Coburn, when the latter expressed his intention of breaking +away from the gang. He hid nothing, explaining without hesitation his +reasons for urging the delay in informing the authorities, even though +he quite realized his action made him to some extent an accomplice in +the conspiracy. + +Willis was much more impressed by the story than he would have +admitted. Though it sounded wild and unlikely, then was a ring of truth +in Merriman’s manner which went far to convince the other of its +accuracy. He did not believe either that anyone could have invented +such a story. It’s very improbability was an argument for its truth. + +And if it were true, what a vista it opened up to himself! The solution +of the murder problem would be gratifying enough but it was a mere +nothing compared to the other. If he could search out and bring to +naught such a conspiracy as Merriman’s story indicated, he would be a +made man. It would be the crowning point of his career, and would bring +him measurably nearer to that cottage and garden in the country to +which for years past he had been looking forward. Therefore no care and +trouble would be too great to spend on the matter. + +Putting away thoughts of self, therefore, and deliberately +concentrating on the matter in hand, he set himself to consider in +detail what his visitor had told him and get the story clear in his +mind. Then slowly and painstakingly he began to ask questions. + +“I take it, Mr. Merriman, that your idea is that Mr. Coburn was +murdered by a member of the syndicate?” + +“Yes, and I think he foresaw his fate. I think when he told them he was +going to break with them they feared he might betray them, and wanted +to be on the safe side.” + +“Any of them a tall, stoutly built man?” + +“Captain Beamish is tall and strongly built, but I should not say he +was stout.” + +“Describe him.” + +“He stooped and was a little round-shouldered, but even then he was +tall. If he had held himself up he would have been a big man. He had a +heavy face with a big jaw, thin lips, and a vindictive expression.” + +Willis, though not given to jumping to conclusions, felt suddenly +thrilled, and he made up his mind that an early development in the case +would be the taking of the impressions of Captain Beamish’s right thumb +and forefinger. + +He asked several more questions and, going over the story again, took +copious notes. Then for some time he sat in silence considering what he +had heard. + +At first sight he was inclined to agree with Merriman, that the +deceased had met his death at the hands of a member of the syndicate, +and if so, it was not unlikely that all or most of the members were +party to it. From the mere possibility of this it followed that the +most urgent thing for the moment was to prevent the syndicate +suspecting his knowledge. He turned again to his visitor. + +“I suppose you realize, Mr. Merriman, that if all these details you +have given me are correct, you yourself are in a position of some +danger?” + +“I know it, but I am not afraid. It is the possible danger to Miss +Coburn that has upset me so much.” + +“I understand, sir,” the inspector returned sympathetically, “but it +follows that for both your sakes you must act very cautiously, so as to +disarm any suspicions these people may have of you.” + +“I am quite in your hands, inspector.” + +“Good. Then let us consider your course of action. Now, first of all +about the inquest. It will be held this evening at five o’clock. You +will have to give evidence, and we shall have to settle very carefully +what that evidence will be. No breath of suspicion against the +syndicate must leak out.” + +Merriman nodded. + +“You must identify the deceased, and, if asked, you must tell the story +of your two visits to the clearing. You must speak without the +slightest hesitation. But you must of course make no mention of the +changing of the lorry numbers or of your suspicions, nor will you +mention your visit to Hull. You will explain that you went back to the +clearing on the second occasion because it was so little out of your +way and because you were anxious to meet the Coburns again, while your +friend wanted to see the forests of Les Landes.” + +Merriman again nodded. + +“Then both you and your friend must avoid Scotland Yard. It is quite +natural that you should rush off here as you did, but it would not be +natural for you to return. And there is no reason why Mr. Hilliard +should come at all. If I want to see either of you I shall ring up and +arrange a place of meeting. And just two other things. The first is +that I need hardly warn you to be as circumspect in your conversation +as in your evidence. Keep in mind that each stranger that you may meet +may be Morton or some other member of the gang. The second is that I +should like to keep in touch with you for the remainder of the day in +case any question might crop up before the inquest. Where will you be?” + +“I shall stay in my club, Rover’s, in Cranbourne Street. You can ring +me up.” + +“Good,” Willis answered, rising to his feet. “Then let me say again how +pleased I am to have met you and heard your story. Five o’clock, then, +if you don’t hear to the contrary.” + +When Merriman had taken his leave the inspector sat on at his desk, +lost in thought. This case bade fair to be the biggest he had ever +handled, and he was anxious to lay his plans so as to employ his time +to the best advantage. Two clearly defined lines of inquiry had already +opened out, and he was not clear which to follow. In the first place, +there was the obvious routine investigation suggested directly by the +murder. That comprised the finding of Miss Coburn, the learning of Mr. +Coburn’s life history, the tracing of his movements during the last +four or five days, the finding of the purchaser of the black cloth, and +the following up of clues discovered during these inquiries. The second +line was that connected with the activities of the syndicate, and +Willis was inclined to believe that a complete understanding of these +would automatically solve the problem of the murder. He was wondering +whether he should not start an assistant on the routine business of the +tragedy, while himself concentrating on the pit-prop business, when his +cogitations were brought to an end by a messenger. A lady had called in +connection with the case. + +“Miss Madeleine Coburn,” thought Willis, as he gave orders for her to +be shown to his room, and when she entered he instantly recognized the +original of the photograph. + +Madeleine’s face was dead white and there was a strained look of horror +in her eyes, but she was perfectly calm and sell-possessed. + +“Miss Coburn?” Willis said, as he rose and bowed. “I am afraid I can +guess why you have called. You saw the account in the paper?” + +“Yes.” She hesitated. “Is it—my father?” + +Willis told her as gently as he could. She sat quite still for a few +moments, while he busied himself with some papers, then she asked to +see the body. When they had returned to Willis’s room he invited her to +sit down again. + +“I very deeply regret, Miss Coburn,” he said, “to have to trouble you +at this time with questions, but I fear you will have to give evidence +at the inquest this afternoon, and it will be easier for yourself to +make a statement now, so that only what is absolutely necessary need be +asked you then.” + +Madeleine seemed stunned by the tragedy, and she spoke as if in a +dream. + +“I am ready to do what is necessary.” + +He thanked her, and began by inquiring about her father’s history. Mr. +Coburn, it appeared, had had a public school and college training, but, +his father dying when he was just twenty, and leaving the family in +somewhat poor circumstances, he had gone into business as a clerk in +the Hopwood Manufacturing Company, a large engineering works in the +Midlands. In this, he had risen until he held the important position of +cashier, and he and his wife and daughter had lived in happiness and +comfort during the latter’s girlhood. But some six years previous to +the tragedy which had just taken place a change had come over the +household. In the first place, Mrs. Coburn had developed a painful +illness and had dragged out a miserable existence for the three years +before her death. At the same time, whether from the expense of the +illness or from other causes Miss Coburn did not know, financial +embarrassment seemed to descend on her father. One by one their small +luxuries were cut off, then their house had to be given up, and they +had moved to rooms in a rather poor locality of the town. Their +crowning misfortune followed rapidly. Mr. Coburn gave up his position +at the works, and for a time actual want stared them in the face. Then +this Pit-Prop Syndicate had been formed, and Mr. Coburn had gone into +it as the manager of the loading station. Miss Coburn did not know the +reason of his leaving the engineering works, but she suspected there +had been friction, as his disposition for a time had changed, and he +had lost his bright manner and vivacity. He had, however, to a large +extent recovered while in France. She was not aware, either, of the +terms on which he had entered the syndicate, but she imagined he shared +in the profits instead of receiving a salary. + +These facts, which Willis obtained by astute questioning, seemed to him +not a little suggestive. From what Mr. Coburn had himself told +Merriman, it looked as if there had been some secret in his life which +had placed him in the power of the syndicate, and the inspector +wondered whether this might not be connected with his leaving the +engineering works. At all events inquiries there seemed to suggest a +new line of attack, should such become necessary. + +Willis then turned to the events of the past few days. It appeared that +about a fortnight earlier, Mr. Coburn announced that he was crossing to +London for the annual meeting of the syndicate, and, as he did not wish +his daughter to be alone at the clearing, it was arranged that she +should accompany him. They travelled by the _Girondin_ to Hull, and +coming on to London, put up at the Peveril. Mr. Coburn had been +occupied off and on during the four days they had remained there, but +the evenings they had spent together in amusements. On the night of the +murder, Mr. Coburn was to have left for Hull to return to France by the +_Girondin_, his daughter going by an earlier train to Eastbourne, where +she was to have spent ten days with an aunt. Except for what Mr. Coburn +had said about the meeting of the syndicate, Madeleine did not know +anything of his business in town, nor had she seen any member of the +syndicate after leaving the ship. + +Having taken notes of her statements, Willis spoke of the inquest and +repeated the instructions he had given Merriman as to the evidence. +Then he told her of the young man’s visit, and referring to his anxiety +on her behalf, asked if he might acquaint him with her whereabouts. She +thankfully acquiesced, and Willis, who was anxious that her mind should +be kept occupied until the inquest, pushed his good offices to the +extent of arranging a meeting between the two. + +The inquest elicited no further information. Formal evidence of +identification was given, the doctors deposed that death was due to a +bullet from an exceedingly small bore automatic pistol, the cab driver +and porter told their stories, and the jury returned the obvious +verdict of murder against some person or persons unknown. The +inspector’s precautions were observed, and not a word was uttered which +could have given a hint to any member of the Pit-Prop Syndicate that +the _bona fides_ of his organization was suspected. + +Two days later, when the funeral was over, Merriman took Miss Coburn +back to her aunt’s at Eastbourne. No word of love passed his lips, but +the young girl seemed pleased to have his company, and before parting +from her he obtained permission to call on her again. He met the aunt +for a few moments, and was somewhat comforted to find her a kind, +motherly woman, who was evidently sincerely attached to the now +fatherless girl. He had told Madeleine of his interview with her +father, and she had not blamed him for his part in the matter, saying +that she had believed for some time that a development of the kind was +inevitable. + +So, for them, the days began to creep wearily past. Merriman paid as +frequent visits to Eastbourne as he dared, and little by little he +began to hope that he was making progress in his suit. But try as he +would, he could not bring the matter to a head. The girl had evidently +had a more severe shock than they had realized at first, and she became +listless and difficult to interest in passing events. He saw there was +nothing for it but to wait, and he set himself to bide his time with +the best patience he could muster. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +A MYSTIFYING DISCOVERY + + +Inspector Willis was more than interested in his new case. The more he +thought over it, the more he realized its dramatic possibilities and +the almost world-wide public interest it was likely to arouse, as well +as the importance which his superiors would certainly attach to it; in +other words, the influence a successful handling of it would have on +his career. + +He had not been idle since the day of the inquest, now a week past. To +begin with he had seen Hilliard secretly, and learned at first hand all +that that young man could tell him. Next he had made sure that the +finger-prints found on the speaking tube were not those of Mr. Coburn, +and he remained keenly anxious to obtain impressions from Captain +Beamish’s fingers to compare with the former. But inquiries from the +port officials at Hull, made by wire on the evening of the inquest, +showed that the _Girondin_ would not be back at Ferriby for eight days. +There had been no object, therefore, in his leaving London immediately, +and instead he had busied himself by trying to follow up the deceased’s +movements in the metropolis, and learn with whom he had associated +during his stay. In his search for clues he had even taken the hint +from Merriman’s newspaper and bought a copy of _The Mystery of a Hansom +Cab_, but though he saw that this clever story might easily have +inspired the crime, he could find from it no help towards its solution. + +He had also paid a flying visit to the manager of the Hopwood +Manufacturing Company in Sheffield, where Coburn had been employed. +From him he had learned that Madeleine’s surmise was correct, and that +there had been “friction” before her father left. In point of fact a +surprise audit had revealed discrepancies in the accounts. Some money +was missing, and what was suspiciously like an attempt to falsify the +books had taken place. But the thing could not be proved. Mr. Coburn +had paid up, but though his plea that he had made a genuine clerical +error had been accepted, his place had been filled. The manager +expressed the private opinion that there was no doubt of his +subordinate’s guilt, saying also that it was well known that during the +previous months Coburn had been losing money heavily through gambling. +Where he had obtained the money to meet the deficit the manager did not +know, but he believed someone must have come forward to assist him. + +This information interested Willis keenly, supporting, as it seemed to +do, his idea that Coburn was in the power of the syndicate or one of +its members. If, for example, one of these men, on the lookout for +helpers in his conspiracy, had learned of the cashier’s predicaments it +was conceivable that he might have obtained his hold by advancing the +money needed to square the matter in return for a signed confession of +guilt. This was of course the merest guesswork, but it at least +indicated to Willis a fresh line of inquiry in case his present +investigation failed. + +And with the latter he was becoming exceedingly disappointed. With the +exception of the facts just mentioned, he had learned absolutely +nothing to help him. Mr. Coburn might as well have vanished into thin +air when he left the Peveril Hotel, for all the trace he had left. +Willis could learn neither where he went nor whom he met on any one of +the four days he had spent in London. He congratulated himself, +therefore, that on the following day the _Girondin_ would be back at +Ferriby, and he would then be able to start work on the finger-print +clue. + +That evening he settled himself with his pipe to think over once more +the facts he had already learned. As time passed he found himself +approaching more and more to the conclusion reached by Hilliard and +Merriman several weeks before—that the secret of the syndicate was the +essential feature of the case. What were these people doing? That was +the question which at all costs he must answer. + +His mind reverted to the two theories already in the field. At first +sight that of brandy smuggling seemed tenable enough, and he turned his +attention to the steps by which the two young men had tried to test it. +At the loading end their observations were admittedly worthless, but at +Ferriby they seemed to have made a satisfactory investigation. Unless +they had unknowingly fallen asleep in the barrel, it was hard to see +how they could have failed to observe contraband being set ashore, had +any been unloaded. But he did not believe they had fallen asleep. +People were usually conscious of awakening. Besides there was the +testimony of Menzies, the pilot. It was hardly conceivable that this +man also should have been deceived. At the same time Willis decided he +must interview him, so as to form his own opinion of the man’s +reliability. + +Another possibility occurred to him which none of the amateur +investigators appeared to have thought of. North Sea trawlers were +frequently used for getting contraband ashore. Was the _Girondin_ +transferring illicit cargo to such vessels while at sea? + +This was a question Inspector Willis felt he could not solve. It would +be a matter for the Customs Department. But he knew enough about it to +understand that immense difficulties would have to be overcome before +such a scheme could be worked. Firstly, there was the size of the +fraud. Six months ago, according to what Miss Coburn overheard, the +syndicate were making £6,800 per trip, and probably, from the remarks +then made, they were doing more today. And £6,800 meant—the inspector +buried himself in calculations—at least one thousand gallons of brandy. +Was it conceivable that trawlers could get rid of one thousand gallons +every ten days—One hundred gallons a day? Frankly he thought it +impossible. In fact, in the face of the Customs officers’ activities, +he doubted if such a thing could be done by any kind of machinery that +could be devised. Indeed, the more Willis pondered the smuggling +theory, the less likely it seemed to him, and he turned to consider the +possibilities of Miss Coburn’s suggestion of false note printing. + +Here at once he was met by a fact which he had not mentioned to +Merriman. As it happened, the circulation of spurious Treasury notes +was one of _the_ subjects of interest to Scotland Yard at the moment. +Notes _were_ being forged and circulated in large numbers. Furthermore, +the source of supply was believed to be some of the large towns in the +Midlands, Leeds being particularly suspected. But Leeds was on the +direct line through Ferriby, and comparatively not far away. Willis +felt that it was up to him to explore to the uttermost limit all the +possibilities which these facts opened up. + +He began by looking at the matter from the conspirators’ point of view. +Supposing they had overcome the difficulty of producing the notes, how +would they dispose of them? + +Willis could appreciate the idea of locating the illicit press in +France. Firstly, it would be obvious to the gang that the early +discovery of a fraud of the kind was inevitable. Its existence, indeed, +would soon become common property. But this would but slightly affect +its success. It was the finding of the source of supply that mattered, +and the difficulty of this was at once the embarrassment of the +authorities and the opportunity of the conspirators. + +Secondly, English notes were to be forged and circulated in England, +therefore it was from the English police that the source of supply must +be hidden. And how better could this be done than by taking it out of +England altogether? The English police would look in England for what +they wanted. The attention of the French police, having no false French +notes to deal with, would not be aroused. It seemed to Willis that so +far he was on firm ground. + +The third point was that, granting the first two, some agency would be +required to convey the forged notes from France to England. But here a +difficulty arose. The pit-prop plan seemed altogether too elaborate and +cumbrous for all that was required. Willis, as Merriman had done +earlier, pictured the passenger with the padded overcoat and the +double-bottomed handbag. This traveller, it seemed, would meet the +case. + +But did he? Would there not, with him, be a certain risk? There would +be a continuous passing through Customs houses, frequent searchings of +the faked suitcase. Accidents happen. Suppose the traveller held on to +his suitcase too carefully? Some sharp-eyed Customs officer might +become suspicious. Suppose he didn’t hold on carefully enough and it +were lost? Yes, there would be risks. Small, doubtless, but still +risks. And the gang couldn’t afford them. + +As Willis turned the matter over in his mind, he came gradually to the +conclusion that the elaboration of the pit-prop business was no real +argument against its having been designed merely to carry forged notes. +As a business, moreover, it would pay or almost pay. It would furnish a +secret method of getting the notes across at little or no cost. And as +a blind, Willis felt that nothing better could be devised. The scheme +visualized itself to him as follows. Somewhere in France, probably in +some cellar in Bordeaux, was installed the illicit printing-press. +There the notes were produced. By some secret method they were conveyed +to Henri when his lorry-driving took him into the city, and he in turn +brought them to the clearing and handed them over to Coburn. Captain +Beamish and Bulla would then take charge of them, probably hiding them +on the _Girondin_ in some place which would defy a surprise Customs +examination. Numbers of such places, Willis felt sure, could be +arranged, especially in the engine room. The cylinders of a duplicate +set of pumps, disused on that particular trip, occurred to him as an +example. After arrival at Ferriby there would be ample opportunity for +the notes to be taken ashore and handed over to Archer, and Archer +“could plant stuff on Old Nick himself.” + +The more he pondered over it, the more tenable this theory seemed to +Inspector Willis. He rose and began pacing the room, frowning heavily. +More than tenable, it seemed a sound scheme cleverly devised and +carefully worked out. Indeed he could think of no means so likely to +mislead and delude suspicious authorities in their search for the +criminals as this very plan. + +Two points, however, think as he might, he could not reconcile. One was +that exasperating puzzle of the changing of the lorry number plates, +the other how the running of a second boat to Swansea would increase +the profits of the syndicate. + +But everything comes to him who waits, and at last he got an idea. What +if the number of the lorry was an indication to the printers of the +notes as to whether Henri was or was not in a position to take over a +consignment? Would some such sign be necessary? If Henri suspected he +was under observation, or if he had to make calls in unsuitable places, +he would require a secret method of passing on the information to his +accomplices. And if so, could a better scheme be devised than that of +showing a prearranged number on his lorry? Willis did not think so, and +he accepted the theory for what it was worth. + +Encouraged by his progress, he next tackled his second difficulty—how +the running of a second boat would dispose of more notes. But try as he +would he could arrive at no conclusion which would explain the point. +It depended obviously on the method of distribution adopted, and of +this part of the affair he was entirely ignorant. Failure to account +for this did not therefore necessarily invalidate the theory as a +whole. + +And with the theory as a whole he was immensely pleased. As far as he +could see it fitted all the known facts, and bore the stamp of +probability to an even greater degree than that of brandy smuggling. + +But theories were not enough. He must get ahead with his investigation. + +Accordingly next morning he began his new inquiry by sending a +telegram. + +“To BEAMISH, Landes Pit-Prop Syndicate, Ferriby, Hull. + “Could you meet me off London train at Paragon Station at 3.9 + tomorrow re death of Coburn. I should like to get back by 4.0. If + not would stay and go out to Ferriby. + + +“WILLIS, +“Scotland Yard.” + + +He travelled that same day to Hull, having arranged for the reply to be +sent after him. Going to the first-class refreshment room at the +Paragon, he had a conversation with the barmaid in which he disclosed +his official position, and passed over a ten-shilling note on account +for services about to be rendered. Then, leaving by the evening train, +he returned to Doncaster, where he spent the night. + +On the next day he boarded the London train which reaches Hull at 3.9. +At Paragon Station he soon singled out Beamish from Merriman’s +description. + +“Sorry for asking you to come in, Captain Beamish,” he apologized, “but +I was anxious if possible to get back to London tonight. I heard of you +from Miss Coburn and Mr. Merriman, both of whom read of the tragedy in +the papers, and severally came to make inquiries at the Yard. Lloyd’s +Register told me your ship came in here, so I came along to see you in +the hope that you might be able to give me some information about the +dead man which might suggest a line of inquiry as to his murderer.” + +Beamish replied politely and with a show of readiness and candor. + +“No trouble to meet you, inspector. I had to come up to Hull in any +case, and I shall be glad to tell you anything I can about poor Coburn. +Unfortunately I am afraid it won’t be much. When our syndicate was +starting we wanted a manager for the export end. Coburn applied, there +was a personal interview, he seemed suitable and he was appointed on +trial. I know nothing whatever about him otherwise, except that he made +good, and I may say that in the two years of our acquaintance I always +found him not only pleasant and agreeable to deal with, but also +exceedingly efficient in his work.” + +Willis asked a number of other questions—harmless questions, easily +answered about the syndicate and Coburn’s work, ending up with an +expression of thanks for the other’s trouble and an invitation to +adjourn for a drink. + +Beamish accepting, the inspector led the way to the first-class +refreshment room and approached the counter opposite the barmaid whose +acquaintance he had made the previous day. + +“Two small whiskies, please,” he ordered, having asked his companion’s +choice. + +The girl placed the two small tumblers of yellow liquid before her +customers and Willis added a little water to each. + +“Well, here’s yours,” he said, and raising his glass to his lips, +drained the contents at a draught. Captain Beamish did the same. + +The inspector’s offer of a second drink having been declined, the two +men left the refreshment room, still chatting about the murdered man. +Ten minutes later Captain Beamish saw the inspector off in the London +train. But he did not know that in the van of that train there was a +parcel, labelled to “Inspector Willis, passenger to Doncaster by 4.0 +p.m.,” which contained a small tumbler, smelling of whisky, and +carefully packed up so as to prevent the sides from being rubbed. + +The inspector was the next thing to excited when, some time later, he +locked the door of his bedroom in the Stag’s Head Hotel at Doncaster +and, carefully unpacking the tumbler, he took out his powdering +apparatus and examined it for prints. With satisfaction he found his +little ruse had succeeded. The glass bore clearly defined marks of a +right thumb and two fingers. + +Eagerly he compared the prints with those he had found on the taxi +call-tube. And then he suffered disappointment keen and deep. The two +sets were dissimilar. + +So his theory had been wrong, and Captain Beamish was not the murderer +after all! He realized now that he had been much more convinced of its +truth than he had had any right to be, and his chagrin was +correspondingly greater. He had indeed been so sure that Beamish was +his man that he had failed sufficiently to consider other +possibilities, and now he found himself without any alternative theory +to fall back on. + +But he remained none the less certain that Coburn’s death was due to +his effort to break with the syndicate, and that it was to the +syndicate that he must look for light on the matter. There were other +members of it—he knew of two, Archer and Morton, and there might be +more—one of whom might be the man he sought. It seemed to him that his +next business must be to find those other members, ascertain if any of +them were tall men, and if so, obtain a copy of their finger-prints. + +But how was this to be done? Obviously from the shadowing of the +members whom he knew, that was, Captain Beamish, Bulla, and Benson, the +Ferriby manager. Of these, Beamish and Bulla were for the most part at +sea; therefore, he thought, his efforts should be concentrated on +Benson. + +It was with a view to some such contingency that he had alighted at +Doncaster instead of returning to London, and he now made up his mind +to return on the following day to Hull and, the _Girondin_ having by +that time left, to see what he could learn at the Ferriby depot. + +He spent three days shadowing Benson, without coming on anything in the +slightest degree suspicious. The manager spent each of the days at the +wharf until about six o’clock. Then he walked to Ferriby Station and +took the train to Hull, where he dined, spent the evening at some place +of amusement, and returned to the depot by a late train. + +On the fourth day, as the same program seemed to be in prowess, Willis +came to the conclusion that he was losing time and must take some more +energetic step. He determined that if Benson left the depot in the +evening as before, he would try to effect an entrance to his office and +have a look through his papers. + +Shortly after six, from the hedge behind which he had concealed +himself, he saw Benson appear at the door in the corrugated iron fence, +and depart in the direction of Ferriby. The five employees had left +about an hour earlier, and the inspector believed the works were +entirely deserted. + +After giving Benson time to get clear away, he crept from his hiding +place, and approaching the depot, tried the gate in the fence. It was +locked, but few locks were proof against the inspector’s prowess, and +with the help of a bent wire he was soon within the enclosure. He +closed the gate behind him and, glancing carefully round, approached +the shed. + +The door of the office was also locked, but the bent wire conquered it +too, and in a couple of minutes he pushed it open, passed through, and +closed it behind him. + +The room was small, finished with yellow matchboarded walls and +ceiling, and containing a closed roll-top desk, a table littered with +papers, a vertical file, two cupboards, a telephone, and other simple +office requisites. Two doors led out of it, one to the manager’s +bedroom, the other to the shed. Thinking that those could wait, Willis +settled down to make an examination of the office. + +He ran rapidly though methodically through the papers on the table +without finding anything of interest. All referred to the pit-prop +industry, and seemed to indicate that the business was carried on +efficiently. Next he tackled the desk, picking the lock with his usual +skill. Here also, though he examined everything with meticulous care, +his search was fruitless. + +He moved to the cupboards. One was unfastened and contained old +ledgers, account books and the like, none being of any interest. The +other cupboard was locked, and Willis’s quick eyes saw that the +woodwork round the keyhole was much scratched, showing that the lock +was frequently used. Again the wire was brought into requisition, and +in a moment the door swung open, revealing to the inspector’s +astonished gaze—a telephone. + +Considerably puzzled, he looked round to the wall next the door. Yes, +he had not been mistaken; there also was affixed a telephone. He +crossed over to it, and following with his eye the run of the wires, +saw that it was connected to those which approached the shed from +across the railway. + +With what, then, did this second instrument communicate? There were no +other wires approaching the shed, nor could he find any connection to +which it could be attached. + +He examined the instrument more closely, and then he saw that it was +not of the standard government pattern. It was marked “The A. M. +Curtiss Co., Philadelphia, Pa.” It was therefore part of a private +installation and, as such, illegal, as the British Government hold the +monopoly for all telephones in the country. At least it would be +illegal if it were connected up. + +But was it? The wires passed through the back of the cupboard into the +wall, and, looking down, Willis saw that one of the wall sheeting +boards, reaching from the cupboard to the floor, had at some time been +taken out and replaced with screws. + +To satisfy his curiosity he took out his combination pocket knife, and +deftly removing the screws, pulled the board forward. His surprise was +not lessened when he saw that the wires ran down inside the wall and, +heavily insulated, disappeared into the ground beneath the shed. + +“Is it possible that they have a cable?” thought the puzzled man, as he +replaced the loose board and screwed it fast. + +The problem had to stand over, as he wished to complete his +investigation of the remainder of the building. But though he searched +the entire premises with the same meticulous thoroughness that he had +displayed in dealing with the papers, he came on nothing else which in +any way excited his interest. + +He let himself out and, relocking the various doors behind him, walked +to Hassle and from there returned to his hotel in Hull. + +He was a good deal intrigued by his discovery of the secret telephone. +That it was connected up and frequently used he was certain, both from +the elaboration of its construction and from the marking round the +cupboard keyhole. He wondered if he could without discovery tap the +wires and overhear the business discussed. Had the wires been carried +on poles the matter would have been simple, but as things were he would +have to make his connection under the loose board and carry his cable +out through the wall and along the shore to some point at which the +receiver would be hidden—by no means an easy matter. + +But in default of something better he would have tried it, had not a +second discovery he made later on the same evening turned his thoughts +into an entirely new channel. + +It was in thinking over the probable purpose of the telephone that he +got his idea. It seemed obvious that it was used for the secret side of +the enterprise, and if so, would it not most probably connect the +import depot of the secret commodity with that of its distribution? +Ferriby wharf was the place of import, but the distribution, as the +conversations overheard indicated, lay not in the hands of Benson but +of Archer. What if the telephone led to Archer? + +There was another point. The difficulty of laying a secret land wire +would be so enormous that in the nature of things the line must be +short. It must either lead, Willis imagined, to the southern bank of +the estuary or to somewhere quite near. + +But if both these conclusions were sound, it followed that Archer +himself must be found in the immediate neighborhood. Could he learn +anything from following up this idea? + +He borrowed a directory of Hull and began looking up all the Archers +given in the alphabetical index. There were fifteen, and of these one +immediately attracted his attention. It read: + +“Archer, Archibald Charles, The Elms, Ferriby.” + +He glanced at his watch. It was still but slightly after ten. Taking +his hat he walked to the police station and saw the sergeant on duty. + +“Yes, sir,” said the man in answer to his inquiry. “I know the +gentleman. He is the managing director of Ackroyd and Holt’s +distillery, about half-way between Ferriby and Hassle.” + +“And what is he like in appearance?” Willis continued, concealing the +interest this statement had aroused. + +“A big man, sir,” the sergeant answered. “Tall, and broad too. Clean +shaven, with heavy features, very determined looking.” + +Willis had food for thought as he returned to his hotel. Merriman had +been thrilled when he learned of the proximity of the distillery to the +syndicate’s depot, seeing therein an argument in favor of the brandy +smuggling theory. This new discovery led Willis at first to take the +same view, but the considerations which Hilliard had pointed out +occurred to him also, and though he felt a little puzzled, he was +inclined to dismiss the matter as a coincidence. + +Though after his recent experience he was even more averse to jumping +to conclusions than formerly, Willis could not but believe that he was +at last on a hopeful scent. At all events his first duty was clear. He +must find this Archibald Charles Archer, and obtain prints of his +fingers. + +Next morning found him again at Ferriby, once more looking southwards +from the concealment of a cluster of bushes. But this time the object +of his attention was no longer the syndicate’s depot. Instead he +focused his powerful glasses on the office of the distillery. + +About nine-thirty a tall, stoutly built man strode up to the building +and entered. His dress indicated that he was of the employer class, and +from the way in which a couple of workmen touched their caps as he +passed, Willis had no doubt he was the managing director. + +For some three hours the inspector lay hidden, then he suddenly +observed the tall man emerge from the building and walk rapidly in the +direction of Ferriby. Immediately the inspector crept down the hedge +nearer to the road, so as to see his quarry pass at close quarters. + +It happened that as the man came abreast of Willis, a small two-seater +motor-car coming from the direction of Ferriby also reached the same +spot. But instead of passing, it slowed down and its occupant hailed +the tall man. + +“Hallo, Archer,” he shouted. “Can I give you a lift?” + +“Thanks,” the big man answered. “It would be a kindness. I have +unexpectedly to go into Hull, and my own car is out of order.” + +“Run you in in quarter of an hour.” + +“No hurry. If I am in by half past one it will do. I am lunching with +Frazer at the Criterion at that time.” + +The two-seater stopped, the big man entered, and the vehicle moved +away. + +As soon as it was out of sight, Willis emerged from his hiding-place, +and hurrying to the station, caught the 1.17 train to Hull. Twenty +minutes later he passed through the swing doors of the Criterion. + +The hotel, as is well known, is one of the most fashionable in Hull, +and at the luncheon hour the restaurant was well filled. Glancing +casually round, Willis could see his new acquaintance seated at a table +in the window, in close conversation with a florid, red-haired +individual of the successful business man type. + +All the tables in the immediate vicinity were occupied, and Willis +could not get close by in the hope of overhearing some of the +conversation, as he had intended. He therefore watched the others from +a distance, and when they had moved to the lounge he followed them. + +He heard them order coffee and liqueurs, and then a sudden idea came +into his head. Rising, he followed the waiter through the service door. + +“I want a small job done,” he said, while a ten-shilling note changed +hands. “I am from Scotland Yard, and I want the finger-prints of the +men who have just ordered coffee. Polish the outsides of the liqueur +glasses thoroughly, and only lift them by the stems. Then when the men +have gone let me have the glasses.” + +He returned to the lounge, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing +Archer lift his glass by the bowl between the finger and thumb of his +right hand, to empty his liqueur into his coffee. Hall an hour later he +was back in his hotel with the carefully packed glass. + +A very few minutes sufficed for the test. The impressions showed up +well, and this time the inspector gave a sigh of relief as he compared +them with those of the taxi speaking-tube. They were the same. His +quest was finished. Archer was the murderer of Francis Coburn. + +For a minute or two, in his satisfaction, the inspector believed his +work was done. He had only to arrest Archer, take official prints of +his fingers, and he had all the necessary proof for a conviction. But a +moment’s consideration showed him that his labors were very far indeed +from being over. What he had accomplished was only a part of the task +he had set himself. It was a good deal more likely that the other +members of the syndicate were confederates in the murder as well as in +the illicit trade. He must get his hands on them too. But if he +arrested Archer he would thereby destroy all chance of accomplishing +the greater feat. The very essence of success lay in lulling to rest +any doubts that their operations were suspect which might have entered +into the minds of the members of the syndicate. No, he would do nothing +at present, and he once more felt himself up against the question which +had baffled Hilliard and Merriman—What was the syndicate doing? Until +he had answered this, therefore, he could not rest. + +And how was it to be done? After some thought he came to the conclusion +that his most promising clue was the secret telephone, and he made up +his mind the next day he would try to find its other end, and if +necessary tap the wires and listen in to any conversation which might +take place. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. +INSPECTOR WILLIS LISTENS IN + + +Inspector Willis was a good deal exercised by the question of whether +or not he should have Archer shadowed. If the managing director +conceived the slightest suspicion of his danger he would undoubtedly +disappear, and a man of his ability would not be likely to leave many +traces. On the other hand Willis wondered whether even Scotland Yard +men could shadow him sufficiently continuously to be a real safeguard, +without giving themselves away. And if that happened he might indeed +arrest Archer, but it would be good-bye to any chance of getting his +confederates. + +After anxious thought he decided to take the lesser risk. He would not +bring assistants into the matter, but would trust to his own skill to +carry on the investigation unnoticed by the distiller. + +Though the discovery of Archer’s identity seemed greatly to strengthen +the probability that the secret telephone led to him, Willis could not +state this positively, and he felt it was the next point to be +ascertained. The same argument that he had used before seemed to +apply—that owing to the difficulty of wiring, the point of connection +must be close to the depot. Archer’s office was not more than three +hundred yards away, while his house, The Elms, was over a mile. The +chances were therefore in favor of the former. + +It followed that he must begin by searching Archer’s office for the +other receiver, and he turned his attention to the problem of how this +could best be done. + +And first, as to the lie of the offices. He called at the Electric +Generating Station, and having introduced himself confidentially to the +manager in his official capacity, asked to see the man whose business +it was to inspect the lights of the distillery. From him he had no +difficulty in obtaining a rough plan of the place. + +It appeared that the offices were on the first floor, fronting along +the line, Archer’s private office occupying the end of the suite and +the corner of the building nearest to the syndicate’s wharf, and +therefore to Ferriby. The supervisor believed that it had two windows +looking to the front and side respectively, but was not sure. + +That afternoon Inspector Willis returned to the distillery, and +secreting himself in the same hiding place as before, watched until the +staff had left the building. Then strolling casually along the lane, he +observed that the two telephone wires which approached across the +fields led to the third window from the Ferriby end of the first floor +row. + +“That’ll be the main office,” he said to himself, “but there will +probably be an extension to Archer’s own room. Now I wonder—” + +He looked about him. The hedge bounding the river side of the lane ran +up to the corner of the building. After another hasty glance round +Willis squeezed through and from immediately below scrutinized the side +window of the managing director’s room. And then he saw something which +made him chuckle with pleasure. + +Within a few inches of the architrave of the window there was a +down-spout, and from the top of the window to the spout he saw +stretching what looked like a double cord. It was painted the same +color as the walls, and had he not been looking out specially he would +not have seen it. A moment’s glance at the foot of the spout showed him +his surmise was correct. Pushed in behind it and normally concealed by +it were two insulated wires, which ran down the wall from the window +and disappeared into the ground with the spout. + +“Got it first shot,” thought the inspector delightedly, as he moved +away so as not to attract the attention of any chance onlooker. + +Another idea suddenly occurred to him and, after estimating the height +and position of the window, he turned and ran his eye once more over +his surroundings. About fifty yards from the distillery, and behind the +hedge fronting the lane, stood the cottage which Hilliard and Merriman +had noticed. It was in a bad state of repair, having evidently been +unoccupied for a long time. In the gable directly opposite the managing +director’s office was a broken window. Willis moved round behind the +house, and once again producing his bent wire, in a few moments had the +back door open. Slipping inside, he passed through the damp-smelling +rooms and up the decaying staircase until he reached the broken window. +From it, as he had hoped, he found he had a good view into the office. + +He glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes past seven. + +“I’ll do it tonight,” he murmured, and quietly leaving the house, he +hurried to Ferriby Station and so to Hull. + +Some five hours later he left the city again, this time by motor. He +stopped at the end of the lane which ran past the distillery, dismissed +the vehicle, and passed down the lane. He was carrying a light, folding +ladder, a spade, a field telephone, a coil of insulated wire, and some +small tools. + +The night was very dark. The crescent moon would not rise for another +couple of hours, and a thick pall of cloud cut off all light from the +stars. A faint wind stirred the branches of the few trees in the +neighborhood and sighed across the wide spaces of open country. The +inspector walked slowly, being barely able to see against the sky the +tops of the hedges which bounded the lane. Except for himself no living +creature seemed to be abroad. + +Arrived at his destination, Willis felt his way to the gap in the hedge +which he had used before, passed through, and with infinite care raised +his ladder to the window of Archer’s office. He could not see the +window, but he checked the position of the ladder by the measurements +from the hedge. Then he slowly ascended. + +He found he had gauged his situation correctly, and he was soon on the +sill of the window, trying with his knife to push back the hasp. This +he presently accomplished, and then, after an effort so great that he +thought he would be beaten, he succeeded in raising the sash. A minute +later he was in the room. + +His first care was to pull down the thick blinds of blue holland with +which the windows were fitted. Then tip-toeing to the door, he +noiselessly shot the bolt in the lock. + +Having thus provided against surprise, he began his investigation. +There in the top corner of the side window were the wires. They +followed the miter of the window architrave—white-enameled to match—and +then, passing down for a few inches at the outside of the moldings, ran +along the picture rail round the room, concealed in the groove behind +it. Following in the same way the miter of the architrave, they +disappeared though a door in the back wall of the office. + +Willis softly opened the door, which was not locked, and peered into a +small store, evidently used for filing. The wires were carried down the +back of the architrave molding and along the top of the wainscoting, +until finally they disappeared into the side of one of a series of +cupboards which lined the wall opposite the door. The cupboard was +locked, but with the help of the bent wire it soon stood open and +Willis, flashing in a beam from his electric torch, saw with +satisfaction that he had attained at least one of his objects. A +telephone receiver similar to that at the syndicate’s depot was within. + +He examined the remaining contents of the room, but found nothing of +interest until he came to the door. This was solidly made and edged +with rubber, and he felt sure that it would be almost completely +sound-proof. It was, moreover, furnished with a well-oiled lock. + +“Pretty complete arrangement,” Willis thought as he turned back to the +outer office. Here he conducted another of his meticulous examinations, +but unfortunately with a negative result. + +Having silently unlocked the door and pulled up the blinds, he climbed +out on the window sill and closed the window. He was unable to refasten +the hasp, and had therefore to leave this evidence of his visit, though +he hoped and believed it would not be noticed. + +Lifting down the ladder, he carried it to the cottage and hid it +therein. Part of his task was done, and he must wait for daylight to +complete the remainder. + +When some three hours later the coming dawn had made objects visible, +he again emerged armed with his tools and coil of insulated wire. +Digging a hole at the bottom of the down-pipe, he connected his wires +just below the ground level to those of the telephone. Then inserting +his spade along the face of the wall from the pipe to the hedge, he +pushed back the adjoining soil, placed the wires in the narrow trench +thus made, and trod the earth back into place. When the hole at the +down-spout had been filled, practically no trace remained of the +disturbance. + +The ground along the inside of the hedge being thickly grown over with +weeds and grass, he did not think it necessary to dig a trench for the +wire, simply bedding it beneath the foliage. But he made a spade cut +across the sward from the hedge to the cottage door, sank in the wire +and trod out the cut. Once he had passed the tiny cable beneath the +front door he no longer troubled to hide it but laid it across the +floors and up the stairs to the broken window. There he attached the +field receiver, affixing it to his ear so as to be ready for +eventualities. + +It was by this time half past six and broad daylight, but Willis had +seen no sign of life and he believed his actions had been unobserved. +He ate a few sandwiches, then lighting his pipe, lay down on the floor +and smoked contentedly. + +His case at last was beginning to prosper. The finding of Coburn’s +murderer was of course an event of outstanding importance, and now the +discovery of the telephone was not only valuable for its own sake, but +was likely to bring in a rich harvest of information from the messages +he hoped to intercept. Indeed he believed he could hardly fail to +obtain from this source a definite indication of the nature and scope +of the conspiracy. + +About eight o’clock he could see from his window a number of workmen +arrive at the distillery, followed an hour later by a clerical staff. +After them came Archer, passing from his car to the building with his +purposeful stride. Almost immediately he appeared in his office, sat +down at his desk, and began to work. + +Until nearly midday Willis watched him going through papers, dictating +letters, and receiving subordinates. Then about two minutes to the hour +he saw him look at his watch, rise, and approach the door from the +other office, which was in Willis’s line of vision behind the desk. He +stooped over the lock as if turning the key, and then the watcher’s +excitement rose as the other disappeared out of sight in the direction +of the filing room. + +Willis was not disappointed. Almost immediately he heard the faint call +of the tiny buzzer, and then a voice—Archer’s voice, he believed, from +what he had heard in the hotel lounge called softly, “Are you there?” + +There was an immediate answer. Willis had never heard Benson speak, but +he presumed that the reply must be from him. + +“Anything to report?” Archer queried. + +“No. Everything going on as usual.” + +“No strangers poking round and asking questions?” + +“And no traces of a visitor while you were away?” + +“None.” + +“Good. It’s probably a false alarm. Beamish may have been mistaken.” + +“I hope so, but he seemed very suspicious of that Scotland Yard +man—said he was sure he was out for more than he pretended. He thought +he was too easily satisfied with the information he got, and that some +of his questions were too foolish to be genuine.” + +Inspector Willis sat up sharply. This was a blow to his dignity, and he +felt not a little scandalized. But he had no time to consider his +feelings. Archer was speaking again. + +“I think we had better be on the safe side. If you have the slightest +suspicion don’t wait to report to me. Wire at once to Henri at the +clearing this message—take it down so that there’ll be no mistake—‘Six +hundred four-foot props wanted. If possible send next cargo.’ Got that? +He will understand. It is our code for ‘Suspect danger. Send blank +cargoes until further notice.’ Then if a search is made nothing will be +found, because there won’t be anything there to find.” + +“Very good. It’s a pity to lose the money, but I expect you’re right.” + +“We can’t take avoidable risks. Now about yourself. I see you brought +no stuff up last night?” + +“Couldn’t. I had a rotten bilious attack. I started, but had to go back +to bed again. Couldn’t stand.” + +“Better?” + +“Yes, all right now, thanks.” + +“Then you’ll bring the usual up tonight?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Very well. Now, what about ten forty-five for tomorrow?” + +“Right.” + +The switch snapped, and in a few seconds the watcher saw Archer return +to his office, bend for a moment over the lock of the door, then reseat +himself at his desk. + +“I’ve got them now,” he thought triumphantly. “I’ve got them at last. +Tonight I’ll take them red-handed in whatever they’re doing.” He smiled +in anticipation. “By Jove,” he went on, “it was lucky they sent nothing +up last night, or they would have taken _me_ red-handed, and that might +have been the end of me!” + +He was greatly impressed by the excellence of the telephone scheme. +There was nothing anywhere about it to excite suspicion, and it kept +Archer in touch with the illicit undertaking, while enabling him to +hold himself absolutely aloof from all its members. If the rest of the +organization was as good, it was not surprising that Hilliard and +Merriman had been baffled. + +But the puzzle was now solved, the mystery at an end. That night, so +Willis assured himself, the truth would be known. + +He remained in his hiding place all day, until, indeed, he had watched +the workers at the distillery leave and the gray shadows of evening had +begun to descend. Then he hid the telephone and wire in a cupboard, +stealthily left the house, and after a rapid glance round hurried along +the lane towards Ferriby. + +He caught the 6.57 train to Hull, and in a few minutes was at the +police station. There he saw the superintendent, and after a little +trouble got him to fall in with the plan which he had devised. + +As a result of their conference a large car left the city shortly +before nine, in which were seated Inspector Willis and eight picked +constables in plain clothes. They drove to the end of the Ferriby Lane, +where the men dismounted, and took cover behind some shrubs, while the +car returned towards Hull. + +It was almost, but not quite dark. There was no moon, but the sky was +clear and the stars were showing brightly. A faint air, in which there +was already a touch of chill, sighed gently through the leaves, rising +at intervals almost to a breeze, then falling away again to nothing. +Lights were showing here and there—yellow gleams from unshaded windows, +signal lamps from the railway, navigation lights from the river. Except +for the sound of the retreating car and the dull roar of a distant +train, the night was very still, a night, in fact, pre-eminently +suitable for the inspector’s purpose. + +The nine men moved silently down the lane at intervals of a few +minutes, their rubber-shod feet making no sound on the hard surface. +Willis went first, and as the others reached him he posted them in the +positions on which he had previously decided. One man took cover behind +the hedge of the lane, a short distance on the distillery side of the +wharf, another behind a pile of old material on the railway at the same +place, a third hid himself among some bushes on the open ground between +the railway and the river, while a fourth crept as near to the end of +the wharf as the tide would allow, so as to watch approaches from the +water. When they were in position, Willis felt convinced no one could +leave the syndicate’s depot for the distillery without being seen. + +The other four men he led on to the distillery, placing them in a +similar manner on its Ferriby side. If by some extraordinary chance the +messenger with the “stuff” should pass the first cordon, the second, he +was satisfied, would take him. He left himself free to move about as +might appear desirable. + +The country was extraordinarily deserted. Not one of the nine men had +seen a living soul since they left their motor, and Willis felt certain +that his dispositions had been carried out in absolute secrecy. + +He crossed the fence on to the railway. By climbing half-way up the +ladder of a signal he was able to see the windows of the shed over the +galvanized fence. All were in darkness, and he wondered if Benson had +gone on his customary expedition into Hull. + +To satisfy himself on this point he hid beneath a wagon which was +standing on the siding close to the gate in the fence. If the manager +were returning by his usual train he would be due in a few minutes, and +Willis intended to wait and see. + +It was not long before a sharp footfall told that someone was coming +along the lane. The unknown paused at the stile, climbed over; and, +walking more carefully across the rails, approached the door. Willis, +whose eyes were accustomed to the gloom, could make out the dim form of +a man, showing like a smudge of intensified blackness against the +obscurity beyond. He unlocked the door, passed through, slammed it +behind him, and his retreating steps sounded from within. Finally +another door closed in the distance and silence again reigned. + +Willis crawled out from beneath his truck and once more climbed the +signal ladder. The windows of Benson’s office were now lighted up, but +the blinds being drawn, the inspector could see nothing within. + +After about half an hour he observed the same phenomenon as Hilliard +and Merriman had witnessed—the light was carried from the office to the +bedroom, and a few minutes later disappeared altogether. + +The ladder on which he was standing appearing to Willis to offer as +good an observation post as he could hope to get, he climbed to the +little platform at the top, and seating himself, leaned back against +the timber upright and continued his watch. + +Though he was keenly interested by his adventure, time soon began to +drag. It was cramped on the little seat, and he could not move freely +for fear of falling off. Then to his dismay he began to grow sleepy. He +had of course been up all the previous night, and though he had dozed a +little during his vigil in the deserted house, he had not really +rested. He yawned, stretched himself carefully, and made a determined +effort to overcome his drowsiness. + +He was suddenly and unexpectedly successful. He got the start of his +life, and for a moment he thought an earthquake had come. The signal +post trembled and swayed while with a heavy metallic clang objects +moved through the darkness near his head. He gripped the rail, and then +he laughed as he remembered that railway signals were movable. This one +had just been lowered for a train. + +Presently it roared past him, enveloping him in a cloud of steam, which +for an instant was lit bright as day by the almost white beam that +poured out of the open door of the engine firebox. Then, the steam +clearing, there appeared a strip of faintly lit ground on either side +of the flying carriage roofs; it promptly vanished; red tail Lamps +appeared, leaping away; there was a rattle of wheels over siding +connections, and with a rapidly decreasing roar the visitation was +past. For a moment there remained the quickly moving spot of lighted +steam, then it too vanished. Once again the signal post swayed as the +heavy mechanism of the arm dropped back into the “on” position, and +then all was once more still. + +The train had effectually wakened Willis, and he set himself with a +renewed vigor to this task. Sharply he watched the dark mass of the +shed with its surrounding enclosure, keenly he listened for some sound +of movement within. But all remained dark and silent. + +Towards one in the morning he descended from his perch and went the +round of his men. All were alert, and all were unanimous that no one +had passed. + +The time dragged slowly on. The wind had risen somewhat and clouds were +banking towards the north-west. It grew colder, and Willis fancied +there must be a touch of frost. + +About four o’clock he went round his pickets for the second time. He +was becoming more and more surprised that the attempt had been delayed +so long, and when some two hours later the coming dawn began to +brighten the eastern sky and still no sign had been observed, his +chagrin waxed keen. As the light increased, he withdrew his men to +cover, and about seven o’clock, when it was no longer possible that +anything would be attempted, he sent them by ones and twos to await +their car at the agreed rendezvous. + +He was more disappointed at the failure of his trap than he would have +believed possible. What, he wondered, could have happened? Why had the +conspirators abandoned their purpose? Had he given himself away? He +went over in his mind every step he had taken, and he did not see how +any one of them could have become known to his enemies, or how any of +his actions could have aroused their suspicions. No; it was not, he +felt sure, that they had realized their danger. Some other quite +accidental circumstance had intervened to cause them to postpone the +transfer of the “stuff” for that night But what extraordinary hard luck +for him! He had obtained his helpers from the superintendent only after +considerable trouble, and the difficulty of getting them again would be +much greater. And not the least annoying thing was that he, a London +man, one, indeed, of the best men at the Yard, had been made to look +ridiculous in the eyes of these provincial police! + +Dog-tired and hungry though he was, he set his teeth and determined +that he would return to the cottage in the hope of learning the reason +of his failure from the conversation which he expected would take place +between Archer and Benson at a quarter to eleven that day. + +Repeating, therefore, his proceedings of the previous morning, he +regained his point of vantage at the broken window. Again he watched +the staff arrive, and again observed Archer enter and take his place at +his desk. He was desperately sleepy, and it required all the power of +his strong will to keep himself awake. But at last his perseverance was +rewarded, and at 10.45 exactly he saw Archer bolt his door and +disappear towards the filing room. A moment later the buzzer sounded. + +“Are you there?” once again came in Archer’s voice, followed by the +astounding phrase, “I see you brought up that stuff last night.” + +“Yes, I brought up two hundred and fifty,” was Benson’s amazing reply. + +Inspector Willis gasped. He could scarcely believe his ears. So he had +been tricked after all! In spite of his carefully placed pickets, in +spite of his own ceaseless watchfulness, he had been tricked. Two +hundred and fifty of the illicit somethings had been conveyed, right +under his and his men’s noses, from the depot to the distillery. Almost +choking with rage and amazement he heard Archer continue: + +“I had a lucky deal after our conversation yesterday, got seven hundred +unexpectedly planted. You may send up a couple of hundred extra tonight +if you like.” + +“Right. I shall,” Benson answered, and the conversation ceased. + +Inspector Willis swore bitterly as he lay back on the dusty floor and +pillowed his head on his hands. And then while he still fumed and +fretted, outraged nature asserted herself and he fell asleep. + +He woke, ravenously hungry, as it was getting dusk, and he did not +delay long in letting himself out of the house, regaining the lane, and +walking to Ferriby Station. An hour later he was dining at his hotel in +Hull. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. +THE SECRET OF THE SYNDICATE + + +A night’s rest made Willis once more his own man, and next morning he +found that his choking rage had evaporated, and that he was able to +think calmly and collectedly over the failure of his plans. + +As he reconsidered in detail the nature of the watch he had kept, he +felt more than ever certain that his cordons had not been broken +through. No one, he felt satisfied, could have passed unobserved +between the depot and the distillery. + +And in spite of this the stuff had been delivered. Archer and Benson +were not bluffing to put him off the scent. They had no idea they were +overheard, and therefore had no reason to say anything except the +truth. + +How then was the communication being made? Surely, he thought, if these +people could devise a scheme, he should be able to guess it. He was not +willing to admit his brain inferior to any man’s. + +He lit his pipe and drew at it slowly as he turned the question over in +his mind. And then a possible solution occurred to him. What about a +subterranean connection? Had these men driven a tunnel? + +Here undoubtedly was a possibility. To drive three hundred yards of a +heading large enough for a stooping man to pass through, would be a +simple matter to men who had shown the skill of these conspirators. The +soil was light and sandy, and they could use without suspicion as much +timber as they required to shore up their work. It was true they would +have to pass under the railway, but that again was a matter of +timbering. + +Their greatest difficulty, he imagined, would be in the disposal of the +surplus earth. He began to figure out what it would mean. The +passageway could hardly be less than four feet by five, to allow for +lining, and this would amount to about two yards of material to the +yard run, or say six hundred or seven hundred cubic yards altogether. +Could this have been absorbed in the filling of the wharf? He thought +so. The wharf was a large structure, thirty yards by thirty at least +and eight or nine feet high; more than two thousand cubic yards of +filling would have been required for it. The disposal of the earth, +therefore, would have presented no difficulty. All that came out of the +tunnel could have gone into the wharf three times over. + +A tunnel seemingly being a practical proposition, he turned his +attention to his second problem. How could he find out whether or not +it had been made? + +Obviously only from examination at one or other end. If it existed it +must connect with cellars at the depot and the distillery. And of these +there could be no question of which he ought to search. The depot was +not only smaller and more compact, but it was deserted at intervals. If +he could not succeed at the syndicate’s enclosure he would have no +chance at the larger building. + +It was true he had already searched it without result, but he was not +then specially looking for a cellar, and with a more definite objective +he might have better luck. He decided that if Benson went up to Hull +that night he would have another try. + +He took an afternoon train to Ferriby, and walking back towards the +depot, took cover in the same place that he had previously used. There, +sheltered by a hedge, he watched for the manager’s appearance. + +The weather had, from the inspector’s point of view, changed for the +worse. The sunny days had gone, and the sky was overladen with clouds. +A cold wind blew in gustily from the south-east, bringing a damp fog +which threatened every minute to turn to rain, and flecking the +lead-colored waters of the estuary with spots of white. Willis shivered +and drew up his collar higher round his ears as he crouched behind the +wet bushes. + +“Confound it,” he thought, “when I get into that shed I shall be +dripping water all over the floor.” + +But he remained at his post, and in due course he was rewarded by +seeing Benson appear at the door in the fence, and after locking it +behind him, start off down the railway towards Ferriby. + +As before, Willis waited until the manager had got clear away, then +slipping across the line, he produced his bent wire, opened the door, +and five minutes later stood once more in the office. + +From the nature of the case it seemed clear that the entrance to the +cellar, if one existed, would be hidden. It was therefore for secret +doors or moving panels that he must look. + +He began by ascertaining the thickness of all the walls, noting the +size of the rooms so as to calculate those he could not measure +directly. He soon found that no wall was more than six inches thick, +and none could therefore contain a concealed opening. + +This narrowed his search. The exit from the building could only be +through a trap-door in the floor. + +Accordingly he set to work in the office, crawling torch in hand along +the boards, scrutinizing the joints between them for any that were not +closed with dust, feeling for any that might be loose. But all to no +purpose. The boards ran in one length across the floor and were +obviously firmly nailed down on fixed joists. + +He went to the bedroom, rolling aside the mats which covered the floor +and moving the furniture back and forwards. But here he had no better +result. + +The remainder of the shed was floored with concrete, and a less +meticulous examination was sufficient to show that the surface was +unbroken. Nor was there anything either on the wharf itself or in the +enclosure behind the shed which could form a cover to a flight of +steps. + +Sorely disappointed, Willis returned once more to the office, and +sitting down, went over once again in his mind what he had done, trying +to think if there was a point on the whole area of the depot which he +had overlooked. He could recall none except the space beneath a large +wardrobe in the next room which, owing to its obvious weight, he had +not moved. + +“I suppose I had better make sure,” he said to himself, though he did +not believe so massive a piece of furniture could have been pulled +backwards and forwards without leaving scratches on the floor. + +He returned to the bedroom. The wardrobe was divided into two portions, +a single deep drawer along the bottom, and above it a kind of large +cupboard with a central door. He seized its end. It was certainly very +heavy; in fact, he found himself unable to move it. + +He picked up his torch and examined the wooden base. And then his +interest grew, for he found it was strongly stitch-nailed to the floor. + +Considerably mystified, he tried to open the door. It was locked, and +though with his wire he eventually shot back the bolt, the trouble he +had, proved that the lock was one of first quality. Indeed, it was not +a cupboard lock screwed to the inside of the door as might have been +expected, but a small-sized mortice lock hidden in the thickness of the +wood, and the keyhole came through to the inside; just the same +arrangement as is usual in internal house doors. + +The inside of the wardrobe revealed nothing of interest. Two coats and +waistcoats, a sweater, and some other clothes were hanging from hooks +at the back. Otherwise the space was empty. + +“Why,” he wondered as he stood staring in, “should it be necessary to +lock up clothes like these?” + +His eyes turned to the drawer below, and he seized the handles and gave +a sharp pull. The drawer was evidently locked. Once again he produced +his wire, but for the first time it failed him. He flashed a beam from +his lamp into the hole, and then he saw the reason. + +The hole was a dummy. It entered the wood but did not go through it. It +was not connected to a lock. + +He passed the light round the edges of the drawer. If there was no lock +to fasten it why had he been unable to open it? He took out his +penknife and tried to push the blade into the surrounding space. It +would not penetrate, and he saw that there was no space, but merely a +cut half an inch deep in the wood. There was no drawer. What seemed a +drawer was merely a blind panel. + +Inspector Willis grew more and more interested. He could not see why +all that space should be wasted, as it was clear from the way in which +the wardrobe was finished that economy in construction had not been the +motive. + +Once again he opened the door of the upper portion, and putting his +head inside passed the beam of the lamp over the floor. This time he +gave a little snort of triumph. The floor did not fit tight to the +sides. All round was a space of some eighth of an inch. + +“The trap-door at last,” he muttered, as he began to feel about for +some hidden spring. At last, pressing down on one end of the floor, he +found that it sank and the other end rose in the air, revealing a +square of inky blackness out of which poured a stream of cold, damp +air, and through which he could hear, with the echoing sound peculiar +to vaults, the splashing and churning of the sea. + +His torch revealed a flight of steps leading down into the darkness. +Having examined the pivoted floor to make sure there was no secret +catch which could fasten and imprison him below, he stepped on to the +ladder and began to descend. Then the significance of the mortice lock +in the wardrobe door occurred to him, and he stopped, drew the door to +behind him, and with his wire locked it. Descending farther he allowed +the floor to drop gently into place above his head, thus leaving no +trace of his passage. + +He had by this time reached the ground, and he stood flashing his torch +about on his surroundings. He was in a cellar, so low in the roof that +except immediately beneath the stairs he could not stand upright. It +was square, some twelve feet either way, and from it issued two +passages, one apparently running down under the wharf, the other at +right angles and some two feet lower in level, leading as if towards +the distillery. Down the center of this latter ran a tiny tramway of +about a foot gauge, on which stood three kegs on four-wheeled frames. +In the upper side of each keg was fixed a tun-dish, to the under side a +stop-cock. Two insulated wires came down through the ceiling below the +cupboard in which the telephone was installed, and ran down the tunnel +towards the distillery. + +The walls and ceiling of both cellar and passages were supported by +pit-props, discolored by the damp and marked by stains of earthy water +which had oozed from the spaces between. They glistened with moisture, +but the air, though cold and damp, was fresh. That and the noise of the +waves which reverberated along the passage under the wharf seemed to +show that there was an open connection to the river. + +The cellar was empty except for a large wooden tun or cask which +reached almost to the ceiling, and a gunmetal hand pump. Pipes led from +the latter, one to the tun, the other along the passage under the +wharf. On the side of the tun and connected to it at top and bottom was +a vertical glass tube protected by a wooden casing, evidently a gauge, +as beside it was a scale headed “gallons,” and reading from 0 at the +bottom to 2,000 at the top. A dark-colored liquid filled the tube up to +the figure 1,250. There was a wooden spigot tap in the side of the tun +at floor level, and the tramline ran beneath this so that the wheeled +kegs could be pushed below it and filled. + +The inspector gazed with an expression of almost awe on his face. + +“Lord!” he muttered. “Is it brandy after all?” + +He stooped and smelled the wooden tap, and the last doubt was removed +from his mind. + +He gave vent to a comprehensive oath. Right enough it was hard luck! +Here he had been hoping to bring off a forged note coup which would +have made his name, and the affair was a job for the Customs Department +after all! Of course a pretty substantial reward would be due to him +for his discovery, and there was his murder case all quite +satisfactory, but forged notes were more in his line, and he felt +cheated out of his due. + +But now that he was so far he might as well learn all he could. The +more complete the case he gave in, the larger the reward. Moreover, his +own curiosity was keenly aroused. + +The cellar being empty save for the tun, the pump, and the small +tramway and trucks, he turned, and flashing his light before him, +walked slowly along the passage down which ran the pipe. He was, he +felt sure, passing under the wharf and heading towards the river. + +Some sixty feet past the pump the floor of the passage came to an +abrupt end, falling vertically as by an enormous step to churning +waters of the river some six feet below. At first in the semi-darkness +Willis thought he had reached the front of the wharf, but he soon saw +he was still in the cellar. The roof ran on at the same level for some +twenty feet farther, and the side walls, here about five feet apart, +went straight down from it into the water. Across the end was a wall, +sloping outwards at the bottom and made of horizontal pit-props +separated by spaces of two or three inches. Willis immediately realized +that these props must be those placed behind the inner or raking row of +piles which supported the front of the wharf. + +Along one side wall for its whole length was nailed a series of +horizontal laths twelve inches apart. What their purpose was he did not +know, but he saw that they made a ladder twenty feet wide, by which a +man could work his way from the passage to the end wall and reach the +water at any height of the tide. + +Above this ladder was an object which at first puzzled the inspector, +then as he realized its object, it became highly illuminating. On a +couple of brackets secured to the wall lay a pipe of thin steel covered +with thick black baize, and some sixteen feet long by an inch in +diameter. Through it ran the light copper pipe which was connected at +its other end to the pump. At the end of the passage this pipe had +several joints like those of a gas bracket, and was folded on itself +concertina-wise. + +The inspector stepped on to the ladder and worked his way across it to +the other end of the steel pipe, close by the end wall. The copper pipe +protruded and ended in a filling like the half of a union. As Willis +gazed he suddenly grasped its significance. + +The side of the _Girondin_, he thought, would lie not more than ten +feet from where he was standing. If at night someone from within the +cellar were to push the end of the steel tube out through one of the +spaces between the horizontal timbers of the end wall, it could be +inserted into a porthole, supposing one were just opposite. The +concertina joints would make it flexible and allow it to extend, and +the baize covering would prevent its being heard should it +inadvertently strike the side of the ship. The union on the copper tube +could then be fixed to some receptacle on board, the brandy being +pumped from the ship to the tun. + +And no outsider could possibly be any the wiser! Given a dark night and +careful operators, the whole thing would be carried out invisibly and +in absolute silence. + +Now Willis saw the object of the peculiar construction of the front of +the wharf. It was necessary to have two lines of piles, so that the +deck between might overshadow and screen from view the openings between +the horizontal beams at the front of the cellar. He stood marvelling at +the ingenuity of the plan. No wonder Hilliard and Merriman had been +baffled. + +But if he were to finish his investigations, he must no longer delay. +He worked back across the side of the cellar, regained the passage, and +returned to the pump-room. Then turning into the other passage, he +began to walk as quickly as possible along it. + +The tunnel was barely four feet high by three wide, and he found +progress very tiring. After a slight curve at the mouth it ran straight +and almost dead level. Its construction was the same as that of the +cellar, longitudinal timber lining supported behind verticals and +lintels spaced about six feet apart. When he had gone about two hundred +yards it curved sharply to the left, ran heavily timbered for some +thirty yards in the new direction, and then swung round to the right +again. + +“I suppose the railway crosses here,” Willis thought, as he passed +painfully round the bends. + +The sweat stood in drops on his forehead when he reached the end, and +he breathed a sigh of relief as he realized he could once more stand +upright and stretch his cramped back. He found himself in another +cellar, this time about six feet by twelve. The tramway ran along it, +stopping at the end wall. The place was otherwise empty, save for a +wooden grating or tun-dish with a hinged lid which was fixed between +the rails near the entrance. The telephone wires, which had followed +the tunnel all the way, here vanished into the roof. + +Willis concluded he must be standing beneath some part of the +distillery, and a very little thought was required to make clear to him +the _raison d’être_ of what he saw. He pictured the kegs being pushed +under the tap of the large tun in the pump-room and filled with brandy +pumped in from the _Girondin_. In imagination he saw Benson pushing his +loaded trucks through the tunnel—a much easier thing to do than to walk +without something to step over—stopping them one by one over the +grating and emptying the contents therein. No doubt that grating was +connected to some vat or tun buried still deeper beneath the +distillery, in which the brandy mingled with the other brandy brought +there by more legitimate means, and which was sold without documentary +evidence of its surprising increase in bulk. + +It was probable, thought Willis, that some secret door must connect the +chamber in which he stood with the distillery, but a careful search +revealed no trace of any opening, and he was forced to the conclusion +that none existed. Accordingly, he turned and began to retrace his +steps through the tunnel. + +The walk back seemed even longer and more irksome than his first +transit, and he stopped here and there and knelt down in order to +straighten his aching back. As he advanced, the booming sound of the +waves, which had died down to a faint murmur at the distillery, grew +louder and louder. At last he reached the pump-cellar, and was just +about to step out of the tunnel when his eye caught the flicker of a +light at the top of the step-ladder. Someone was coming down! + +Willis instantly snapped off his own light, and for the fraction of a +second he stood transfixed, while his heart thumped and his hand slid +round to his revolver pocket. Breathlessly he watched a pair of legs +step on to the ladder and begin to descend the steps. + +Like a flash he realized what he must do. If this was Benson coming to +“take up stuff,” to remain in the tunnel meant certain discovery. But +if only he could reach the passage under the wharf he might be safe. +There was nothing to bring Benson into it. + +But to cross the cellar he must pass within two feet of the ladder, and +the man was half-way down. For a moment it looked quite hopeless, then +unexpectedly he got his chance. The man stopped to lock the wardrobe +door. When he had finished, Willis was already across the cellar and +hurrying down the other passage. Fortunately the noise of the waves +drowned all other sounds. + +By the time the unknown had reached the bottom of the ladder, Willis +had stepped on to the cross laths and was descending by them. In a +moment he was below the passage level. He intended, should the other +approach, to hide beneath the water in the hope that in the darkness +his head would not be seen. + +But the light remained in the cellar, and Willis raised himself and +cautiously peeped down the passage. Then he began to congratulate +himself on what he had just been considering his misfortune. For, +watching there in the darkness, he saw Benson carry out the very +operations he had imagined were performed. The manager wheeled the kegs +one by one beneath the great barrel, filled them from the tap, and +then, setting his lamp on the last of the three, pushed them before him +down the tunnel towards the distillery. + +Inspector Willis waited until he judged the other would be out of +sight, then left his hiding-place and cautiously returned to the +pump-room. The gauge now showed 1,125 gallons, and he noted that 125 +gallons was put up per trip. He rapidly ascended the steps, passed out +through the wardrobe, and regained the bedroom. A few minutes later he +was once more out on the railway. + +He had glanced at his watch in the building and found that it was but +little after ten. Benson must therefore have returned by an earlier +train than usual. Again the inspector congratulated himself that events +had turned out as they had, for though he would have had no fear of his +personal safety had he been seen, premature discovery might have +allowed the other members of the gang to escape. + +The last train for Hull having left, he started to walk the six miles +to the city. The weather had still further changed for the worse, and +now half a gale of wind whirled round him in a pandemonium of sound and +blew blinding squalls of rain into his eyes. In a few moments he was +soaked to the skin, and the buffeting of the wind made his progress +slow. But he struggled on, too well pleased by the success of his +evening’s work to mind the discomfort. + +And as he considered the affair on the following morning he felt even +more satisfied. He had indeed done well! Not only had he completed what +he set out to do—to discover the murderer of Coburn—but he had +accomplished vastly more. He had brought to light one of the greatest +smuggling conspiracies of modern times. It was true he had not followed +up and completed the case against the syndicate, but this was not his +business. Smuggling was not dealt with by Scotland Yard. It was a +matter for the Customs Department. But if only it had been forged +notes! He heaved a sigh as he thought of the kudos which might have +been his. + +But when he had gone so far, he thought he might as well make certain +that the brandy was discharged as he imagined. He calculated that the +_Girondin_ would reach Ferriby on the following day, and he determined +to see the operation carried out. + +He followed the plan of Hilliard and Merriman to the extent of hiring a +boat in Hull and sculling gently down towards the wharf as dusk fell. +He had kept a watch on the river all day without seeing the motor ship +go up, but now she passed him a couple of miles above the city. He +turned inshore when he saw her coming, lest Captain Beamish’s +binoculars might reveal to him a familiar countenance. + +He pulled easily, timing himself to arrive at the wharf as soon as +possible after dark. The evening was dry, but the south-easterly wind +still blew cold and raw, though not nearly so strongly as on the night +of his walk. + +There were a couple of lights on the _Girondin_, and he steered by +these till the dark mass of her counter, looming up out of the night, +cut them off. Slipping round her stern, as Hilliard had done in the +River Lesque, he unshipped his oars and guided the boat by his hands +into the V-shaped space between the two rows of piles fronting the +wharf. As he floated gently forward he felt between the horizontal +props which held back the filling until he came to a vacant space, then +knowing he was opposite the cellar, he slid the boat back a few feet, +tied her up, and settled down to wait. + +Though sheltered from the wind by the hull, it was cold and damp under +the wharf. The waves were lapping among the timbers, and the boat moved +uneasily at the end of her short painter. The darkness was absolute—an +inky blackness unrelieved by any point of light. Willis realized that +waiting would soon become irksome. + +But it was not so very long before the work began. He had been there, +he estimated, a couple of hours when he saw, not ten feet away, a dim +circle of light suddenly appear on the _Girondin’s_ side. Someone had +turned on a faint light in a cabin whose open porthole was immediately +opposite the cellar. Presently Willis, watching breathlessly, saw what +he believed was the steel pipe impinge on and enter the illuminated +ring. It remained projecting into the porthole for some forty minutes, +was as silently withdrawn, the porthole was closed, a curtain drawn +across it, and the light turned up within. The brandy had been +discharged. + +The thing had been done inaudibly, and invisibly to anyone on either +wharf or ship. Marvelling once more at the excellence and secrecy of +the plan, Willis gently pushed his boat out from among the piles and +rowed back down the river to Hull. There he tied the boat up, and +returning to his hotel, was soon fast asleep. + +In spite of his delight at the discovery, he could not but realize that +much still remained to be done. Though he had learned how the syndicate +was making its money, he had not obtained any evidence of the +complicity of its members in the murder of Coburn. + +Who, in addition to Archer, could be involved? There were, of course, +Beamish, Bulla, Benson, and Henri. There was also a man, Morton, whose +place in the scheme of things had not yet been ascertained. He, Willis +realized, must be found and identified. But were these all? He doubted +it. It seemed to him that the smuggling system required more helpers +than these. He now understood how the brandy was got from the ship to +the distillery, and he presumed it was loaded at the clearing in the +same manner, being brought there in some unknown way by the motor +lorries. But there were two parts of the plan of which nothing was yet +known. Firstly, where was the brandy obtained from originally, and, +secondly, how was it distributed from the distillery? It seemed to +Willis that each of these operations would require additional +accomplices. And if so, these persons might also have been implicated +in Coburn’s death. + +He thought over the thing for three solid hours before coming to a +decision. At the end of that time he determined to return to London +and, if his chief approved, lay the whole facts before the Customs +Departments of both England and France, asking them to investigate the +matter in their respective countries. In the meantime he would +concentrate on the question of complicity in the murder. + +He left Hull by an afternoon train, and that night was in London. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +“ARCHER PLANTS STUFF” + + +Willis’s chief at the Yard was not a little impressed by his +subordinate’s story. He congratulated the inspector on his discovery, +commended him for his restraint in withholding action against Archer +until he had identified his accomplices, and approved his proposals for +the further conduct of the case. Fortified by this somewhat unexpected +approbation, Willis betook himself forthwith to the headquarters of the +Customs Department and asked to see Hilliard. + +The two men were already acquainted. As has been stated, the inspector +had early called at Hilliard’s rooms and learned all that the other +could tell him of the case. But for prudential reasons they had not met +since. + +Hilliard was tremendously excited by the inspector’s news, and eagerly +arranged the interview with his chief which Willis sought. The great +man was not engaged, and in a few minutes the others were shown into +his presence. + +“We are here, sir,” Willis began, when the necessary introductions had +been made, “to tell you jointly a very remarkable story. Mr. Hilliard +would doubtless have told you his part long before this, had I not +specially asked him not to. Now, sir, the time has come to put the +facts before you. Perhaps as Mr. Hilliard’s story comes before mine in +point of time, he should begin.” + +Hilliard thereupon began. He told of Merriman’s story in the Rovers’ +Club, his own idea of smuggling based on the absence of return cargoes, +his proposition to Merriman, their trip to France and what they learned +at the clearing. Then he described their visit to Hull, their +observations at the Ferriby wharf, the experiment carried out with the +help of Leatham, and, finally, what Merriman had told him of his second +visit to Bordeaux. + +Willis next took up the tale and described the murder of Coburn, his +inquiries thereinto and the identification of the assassin, and his +subsequent discoveries at Ferriby, ending up by stating the problem +which still confronted him, and expressing the hope that the chief in +dealing with the smuggling conspiracy would co-operate with him in +connection with the murder. + +The latter had listened with an expression of amazement, which towards +the end of the inspector’s statement changed to one of the liveliest +satisfaction. He gracefully congratulated both men on their +achievements, and expressed his gratification at what had been +discovered and his desire to co-operate to the full with the inspector +in the settling up of the case. + +The three men then turned to details. To Hilliard’s bitter +disappointment it was ruled that, owing to his being known to at least +three members of the gang, he could take no part in the final scenes, +and he had to be content with the honor of, as it were, a seat on the +council of war. For nearly an hour they deliberated, at the end of +which time it had been decided that Stopford Hunt, one of the Customs +Department’s most skillful investigators, should proceed to Hull and +tackle the question of the distribution of the brandy. Willis was to go +to Paris, interest the French authorities in the Bordeaux end of the +affair, and then join Hunt in Hull. + +Stopford Hunt was an insignificant-looking man of about forty. All his +characteristics might be described as being of medium quality. He was +five feet nine in height, his brown hair was neither fair nor dark, his +dress suggested neither poverty nor opulence, and his features were of +the type known as ordinary. In a word, he was not one whose appearance +would provoke a second glance or who would be credited with taking an +important part in anything that might be in progress. + +But for his job these very peculiarities were among his chief assets. +When he hung about in an aimless, loafing way, as he very often did, he +was overlooked by those whose actions he was so discreetly watching, +and where mere loafing would look suspicious, he had the inestimable +gift of being able to waste time in an _affairé_ and preoccupied +manner. + +That night Willis crossed to Paris, and next day he told his story to +the polite chief of the French Excise. M. Max was almost as interested +as his English _confrère_, and readily promised to have the French end +of the affair investigated. That same evening the inspector left for +London, going on in the morning to Hull. + +He found Hunt a shrewd and capable man of the world, as well as a +pleasant and interesting companion. + +They had engaged a private sitting-room at their hotel, and after +dinner they retired thither to discuss their plan of campaign. + +“I wish,” said Willis, when they had talked for some moments, “that you +would tell me something about how this liquor distribution business is +worked. It’s outside my job, and I’m not clear on the details. If I +understood I could perhaps help you better.” + +Hunt nodded and drew slowly at his pipe. + +“The principle of the thing,” he answered, “is simple enough, though in +detail it becomes a bit complicated. The first thing we have to +remember is that in this case we’re dealing, not with distillers, but +with rectifiers. Though in loose popular phraseology both businesses +are classed under the term ‘distilling,’ in reality there is a +considerable difference between them. Distillers actually produce the +spirit in their buildings, rectifiers do not. Rectifiers import the +spirit produced by distillers, and refine or prepare it for various +specified purposes. The check required by the Excise authorities is +therefore different in each case. With rectifiers it is only necessary +to measure the stuff that goes into and comes out of the works. Making +due allowance for variation during treatment, these two figures will +balance if all is right.” + +Willis nodded, and Hunt resumed. + +“Now, the essence of all fraud is that more stuff goes out of the works +than is shown on the returns. That is, of course, another way of saying +that stuff is sold upon which duty has not been paid. In the case of a +rectifying house, where there is no illicit still, more also comes in +than is shown. In the present instance you yourself have shown how the +extra brandy enters. Our job is to find out how it leaves.” + +“That part of it is clear enough anyway,” Willis said with a smile. +“But brandy smuggling is not new. There must surely be recognized ways +of evading the law?” + +“Quite. There are. But to follow them you must understand how the +output is measured. For every consignment of stuff that leaves the +works a permit or certificate is issued and handed to the carrier who +removes it. This is a kind of way-bill, and of course a block is kept +for the inspection of the surveying officer. It contains a note of the +quantity of stuff, date and hour of starting, consignee’s name and +other information, and it is the authority for the carrier to have the +liquor in his possession. An Excise officer may stop and examine any +dray or lorry carrying liquor, or railway wagon, and the driver or +other official must produce his certificate so that his load may be +checked by it. All such what I may call surprise examinations, together +with the signature of the officer making them, are recorded on the back +of the certificate. When the stuff is delivered, the certificate is +handed over with it to the consignee. He signs it on receipt. It then +becomes his authority for having the stuff on his premises, and he must +keep it for the Excise officer’s inspection. Do you follow me so far?” + +“Perfectly.” + +“The fraud, then, consists in getting more liquor away from the works +than is shown on the certificates, and I must confess it is not easy. +The commonest method, I should think, is to fill the kegs or +receptacles slightly fuller than the certificate shows. This is +sometimes done simply by putting extra stuff in the ordinary kegs. It +is argued that an Excise officer cannot by his eye tell a difference of +five or six per cent; that, for example, twenty-six gallons might be +supplied on a twenty-five gallon certificate without anyone being much +the wiser. Variants of this method are to use slightly larger kegs, or, +more subtly, to use the normal sized kegs of which the wood at the ends +has been thinned down, and which therefore when filled to the same +level hold more, while showing the same measure with a dipping rod. But +all these methods are risky. On the suspicion the contents of the kegs +are measured and the fraud becomes revealed.” + +Willis, much interested, bent forward eagerly as the other, after a +pause to relight his pipe, continued: + +“Another common method is to send out liquor secretly, without a permit +at all. This may be done at night, or the stuff may go through an +underground pipe, or be hidden in innocent looking articles such as +suitcases or petrol tins. The pipe is the best scheme from the +operator’s point of view, and one may remain undiscovered for months, +but the difficulty usually is to lay it in the first instance. + +“A third method can be used only in the case of rectifiers and it +illustrates one of the differences between rectifiers and distillers. +Every permit for the removal of liquor from a distillery must be issued +by the excise surveyor of the district, whereas rectifiers can issue +their own certificates. Therefore in the case of rectifiers there is +the possibility of the issuing of forged or fraudulent certificates. Of +course this is not so easy as it sounds. The certificates are supplied +in books of two hundred by the Excise authorities, and the blocks must +be kept available for the supervisor’s scrutiny. Any certificates can +be obtained from the receivers of the spirit and compared with the +blocks. Forged permits are very risky things to work with, as all +genuine ones bear the government watermark, which is not easy to +reproduce. In fact, I may say about this whole question of liquor +distribution generally, that fraud has been made so difficult that the +only hope of those committing it is to avoid arousing suspicion. Once +suspicion is aroused, discovery follows almost as a matter of course.” + +“That’s hopeful for us,” Willis smiled. + +“Yes,” the other answered, “though I fancy this case will be more +difficult than most. There is another point to be taken into +consideration which I have not mentioned, and that is, how the +perpetrators of the frauds are going to get their money. In the last +resort it can only come in from the public over the counters of the +licensed premises which sell the smuggled spirits. But just as the +smuggled liquor cannot be put through the books of the house selling +it, so the money received for it cannot be entered either. This means +that someone in authority in each licensed house must be involved. It +also carries with it a suggestion, though only a suggestion, the houses +in question are tied houses. The director of a distillery company would +have more hold on the manager of their own tied houses than over an +outsider.” + +Again Willis nodded without replying, and Hunt went on: + +“Now it happens that these Ackroyd & Holt people own some very large +licensed houses in Hull, and it is to them I imagine, that we should +first direct our attention.” + +“How do you propose to begin?” + +“I think we must first find out how the Ferriby liquor is sent to these +houses. By the way, you probably know that already. You watched the +distillery during working hours, didn’t you?” + +The inspector admitted it. + +“Did you see any lorries?” + +“Any number; large blue machines. I noticed them going and coming in +the Hull direction loaded up with barrels.” + +Hunt seemed pleased. + +“Good,” he commented. “That’s a beginning anyway. Our next step must be +to make sure that all these lorries carry certificates. We had better +begin tomorrow.” + +Willis did not quite see how the business was to be done, but he +forbore to ask questions, agreeing to fall in with his companion’s +arrangements. + +These arrangements involved the departure from their hotel by taxi at +six o’clock the next morning. It was not fully light as they whirled +out along the Ferriby road, but the sky was clear and all the +indications pointed to a fine day. + +They dismounted at the end of the lane leading to the works, and struck +off across the fields, finally taking up their position behind the same +thick hedge from which Willis had previously kept watch. + +They spent the whole of that day, as well as of the next two, in their +hiding-place, and at the end of that time they had a complete list of +all lorries that entered or left the establishment during that period. +No vehicles other than blue lorries appeared, and Hunt expressed +himself as satisfied that if the smuggled brandy was not carried by +them it must go either by rail or at night. + +“We can go into those other contingencies later if necessary,” he said, +“but on the face of it I am inclined to back the lorries. They supply +the tied houses in Hull, which would seem the obvious places for the +brandy to go, and, besides, railway transit is too well looked after to +attract the gang. I think we’ll follow this lorry business through +first on spec.” + +“I suppose you’ll compare the certificate blocks with the list I made?” +Willis asked. + +“Of course. That will show if all carry certificates. But I don’t want +to do that yet. Before alarming them I want to examine the contents of +a few of the lorries. I think we might do that tomorrow.” + +The next morning, therefore, the two detectives again engaged a taxi +and ran out along the Ferriby road until they met a large blue lorry +loaded with barrels and bearing on its side the legend “Ackroyd & Holt +Ltd, Licensed Rectifiers.” When it had lumbered past on its way to the +city, Hunt called to the driver and ordered him to follow it. + +The chase led to the heart of the town, ending in a street which ran +parallel to the Humber Dock. There the big machine turned in to an +entry. + +“The Anchor Bar,” Hunt said, in satisfied tones. “We’re in luck. It’s +one of the largest licensed houses in Hull.” + +He jumped out and disappeared after the lorry, Willis following. The +vehicle had stopped in a yard at the back of the great public house, +where were more barrels than the inspector ever remembered having seen +together, while the smell of various liquors hung heavy in the air. +Hunt, having shown his credentials, demanded the certificate for the +consignment. This was immediately produced by the driver, scrutinized, +and found in order. Hunt then proceeded to examine the consignment +itself, and Willis was lost in admiration at the rapidity as well as +the thoroughness of his inspection. He tested the nature of the various +liquids, measured their receptacles, took drippings in each cask, and +otherwise satisfied himself as to the quality and quantity. Finally he +had a look over the lorry, then expressing himself satisfied, he +endorsed the certificate, and with a few civil words to the men in +charge, the two detectives took their leave. + +“That’s all square anyway,” Hunt remarked, as they reentered their +taxi. “I suppose we may go and do the same thing again.” + +They did. Three times more on that day, and four times on the next day +they followed Messrs. Ackroyd & Holt’s lorries, in every instance with +the same result. All eight consignments were examined with the utmost +care, and all were found to be accurately described on the accompanying +certificate. The certificates themselves were obviously genuine, and +everything about them, so far as Hunt could see, was in order. + +“Doesn’t look as if we are going to get it that way,” he commented, as +late that second evening they sat once more discussing matters in their +private sitting-room. + +“Don’t you think you have frightened them into honesty by our +persistence?” Willis queried. + +“No doubt,” the other returned. “But that couldn’t apply to the first +few trips. They couldn’t possibly have foretold that we should examine +those consignments yesterday, and today I expect they thought their +visitation was over. But we have worked it as far as it will go. We +shall have to change our methods.” + +The inspector looked his question and Hunt continued: + +“I think tomorrow I had better go out to the works and have a look over +these certificate blocks. But I wonder if it would be well for you to +come? Archer has seen you in that hotel lounge, and at all events he +has your description.” + +“I shall not go,” Willis decided. “See you when you get back.” + +Hunt, after showing his credentials, was received with civility at +Messrs. Ackroyd & Holt’s. When he had completed the usual examination +of their various apparatus he asked for certain books. He took them to +a desk, and sitting down, began to study the certificate blocks. + +His first care was to compare the list of outward lorries which he and +Willis had made with the blocks for the same period. A short +investigation convinced him that here also everything was in order. +There was a certificate for every lorry which had passed out, and not +only so, but the number of the lorry, the day and hour at which it left +and the load were all correct so far as his observations had enabled +him to check them. It was clear that here also he had drawn blank, and +for the fiftieth time he wondered with a sort of rueful admiration how +the fraud was being worked. + +He was idly turning over the leaves of the blocks, gazing vacantly at +the lines of writing while he pondered his problem when his attention +was attracted to a slight difference of color in the ink of an entry on +one of the blocks. The consignment was a mixed one, containing +different kinds of spirituous liquors. The lowest entry was for three +twenty-five gallon kegs of French brandy. This entry was slightly paler +than the remain order. + +At first Hunt did not give the matter serious thought. The page had +evidently been blotted while the ink was wet, and the lower items +should therefore naturally be the fainter. But as he looked more +closely he saw that this explanation would not quite meet the case. It +was true that the lower two or three items above that of the brandy +grew gradually paler in proportion to their position down the sheet, +and to this rule Archer’s signature at the bottom was no exception. In +these Hunt could trace the gradual fading of color due to the use of +blotting paper. But he now saw that this did not apply to the brandy +entry. It was the palest of all—paler even than Archer’s name, which +was below it. + +He sat staring at the sheet, whistling softly through his teeth and +with his brow puckered into a frown, as he wondered whether the obvious +suggestion that the brandy item had been added after the sheet had been +completed, was a sound deduction. He could think of no other +explanation, but he was loath to form a definite opinion on such slight +evidence. + +He turned back through the blocks to see if they contained other +similar instances, and as he did so his interest grew. Quite a number +of the pages referring to mixed consignment had for their last item +kegs of French brandy. He scrutinized these entries with the utmost +care. A few seemed normal enough, but others showed indications which +strengthened his suspicions. In three more the ink was undoubtedly +paler than the remainder of the sheet, in five it was darker, while in +several others the handwriting appeared slightly different—more +upright, more sloping, more heavily or more lightly leaned on. When +Hunt had examined all the instances he could find stretching over a +period of three months, he was convinced that his deduction was +correct. The brandy items had been written at a different time from the +remainder, and this could only mean that they had been added after the +certificate was complete. + +His interest at last keenly aroused, he began to make an analysis of +the blocks in question in the hope of finding some other peculiarity +common to them which might indicate the direction in which the solution +might lie. + +And first as to the consignees. Ackroyd & Holt evidently supplied a +very large number of licensed houses, but of these the names of only +five appeared on the doubtful blocks. But these five were confined to +houses in Hull, and each was a large and important concern. + +“So far, so good,” thought Hunt, with satisfaction. “If they’re not +planting their stuff in those five houses, I’m a Dutchman!” + +He turned back to the blocks and once again went through them. This +time he made an even more suggestive discovery. Only one lorry-man was +concerned in the transport of the doubtful consignments. All the +lorries in question had been in charge of a driver called Charles Fox. + +Hunt remembered the man. He had driven three of the eight lorries Hunt +himself had examined, and he had been most civil when stopped, giving +the investigator all possible assistance in making his inspection. Nor +had he at any time betrayed embarrassment. And now it seemed not +improbable that this same man was one of those concerned in the fraud. + +Hunt applied himself once again to a study of the blocks, and then he +made a third discovery, which, though he could not at first see its +drift, struck him nevertheless as being of importance. He found that +the faked block was always one of a pair. Within a few pages either in +front of or behind it was another block containing particulars of a +similar consignment, identical, in fact, except that the brandy item +was missing. + +Hunt was puzzled. That he was on the track of the fraud he could not +but believe, but he could form no idea as to how it was worked. If he +were right so far, the blocks had been made out in facsimile in the +first instance, and later the brandy item had been added to one of each +pair. Why? He could not guess. + +He continued his examination, and soon another interesting fact became +apparent. Though consignments left the works at all hours of the day, +those referred to by the first one of each between the hours of four +and five. Further, the number of minutes past one and past four were +always identical on each pair. That showed the brandy item was nearly +always the later of the two, but occasionally the stuff had gone with +the one o’clock trip. + +Hunt sat in the small office, of which he had been given undisturbed +possession, pondering over his problem and trying to marshal the facts +that he had learned in such a way as to extract their inner meaning. As +far as he could follow them they seemed to show that three times each +day driver Charles Fox took a lorry of various liquors into Hull. The +first trip was irregular, that is, he left at anything between +seven-thirty and ten-thirty a.m., and his objective extended over the +entire city. The remaining two trips were regular. Of these the first +always left between one and two and the second the same number of +minutes past four; both were invariably to the same one of the five +large tied houses already mentioned; the load of each was always +identical except that one—generally the second—had some kegs of brandy +additional, and, lastly, the note of this extra brandy appeared always +to have been added to the certificate after the latter had been made +out. + +Hunt could make nothing of it. In the evening he described his +discoveries to Willis, and the two men discussed the affair +exhaustively, though still without result. + +That night Hunt could not sleep. He lay tossing from side to side and +racking his brains to find a solution. He felt subconsciously that it +was within his reach, and yet he could not grasp it. + +It was not far from dawn when a sudden idea flashed into his mind, and +he lay thrilled with excitement as he wondered if at last he held the +clue to the mystery. He went over the details in his mind, and the more +he thought over his theory the more likely it seemed to grow. + +But how was he to test it? Daylight had come before he saw his way; but +at last he was satisfied, and at breakfast he told Willis his idea and +asked his help to carry out his plan. + +“You’re not a photographer, by any chance?” he asked. + +“I’m not A1, but I dabble a bit at it.” + +“Good. That will save some trouble.” + +They called at a photographic outfitter’s, and there, after making a +deposit, succeeded in hiring two large-size Kodaks for the day. With +these and a set of climbing irons they drove out along the Ferriby +road, arriving at the end of the lane to the works shortly after +midday. There they dismissed their taxi. + +As soon as they were alone their actions became somewhat bewildering to +the uninitiated. Along one side of the road ran a seven-foot wall +bounding the plantation of a large villa. Over this Willis, with the +help of his friend, clambered. With some loose stones he built himself +a footing at the back, so that he could just look over the top. Then +having focused his camera for the middle of the road, he retired into +obscurity behind his defences. + +His friend settled to his satisfaction, Hunt buckled on the climbing +irons, and crossing the road, proceeded to climb a telegraph pole which +stood opposite the lane. He fixed his camera to the lower +wires—carefully avoiding possible short-circuitings—and having focused +it for the center of the road, pulled a pair of pliers from his pocket +and endeavored to simulate, the actions of a lineman at work. By the +time these preparations were complete it was close on one o’clock. + +Some half-hour later a large blue lorry came in sight bearing down +along the lane. Presently Hunt was able to see that the driver was Fox. +He made a prearranged sign to his accomplice behind the wall, and the +latter, camera in hand, stood up and peeped over. As the big vehicle +swung slowly round into the main road both men from their respective +positions photographed it. Hunt, indeed, rapidly changing the film, +took a second view as the machine retreated down the road towards Hull. + +When it was out of sight, Hunt descended and with some difficulty +climbed the wall to his colleague. There in the shade of the thick belt +of trees both men lay down and smoked peacefully until nearly four +o’clock. Then once more they took up their respective positions, +watched until about half an hour later the lorry again passed out and +photographed it precisely as before. That done, they walked to Hassle +station, and took the first train to Hull. + +By dint of baksheesh they persuaded the photographer to develop their +films there and then, and that same evening they had six prints. + +As it happened they turned out exceedingly good photographs. Their +definition was excellent, and each view included the whole of the +lorry. The friends found, as Hunt had hoped and intended, that owing to +the height from which the views had been taken, each several keg of the +load showed out distinctly. They counted them. Each picture showed +seventeen. + +“You see?” cried Hunt triumphantly. “The same amount of stuff went out +on each load! We shall have them now, Willis!” + +Next day Hunt returned to Ferriby works ostensibly to continue his +routine inspection. But in three minutes he had seen what he wanted. +Taking the certificate book, he looked up the blocks of the two +consignments they had photographed, and he could have laughed aloud in +his exultation as he saw that what he had suspected was indeed the +fact. The two certificates were identical except that to the second an +item of four kegs of French brandy had been added! Hunt counted the +barrels. The first certificate showed thirteen and the last seventeen. + +“Four kegs of brandy smuggled out under our noses yesterday,” he +thought delightedly. “By Jove! but it’s a clever trick. Now to test the +next point.” + +He made an excuse for leaving the works, and returning to Hull, called +at the licensed house to which the previous afternoon’s consignment had +been dispatched. There he asked to see the certificates of the two +trips. On seeing his credentials these were handed up without demur, +and he withdrew with them to his hotel. + +“Come,” he cried to Willis, who was reading in the lounge, “and see the +final act in the drama.” + +They retired to their private room, and there Hunt spread the two +certificates on the table. Both men stared at them, and Hunt gave vent +to a grunt of satisfaction. + +“I was right,” he cried delightedly. “Look here! Why I can see it with +the naked eye!” + +The two certificates were an accurate copy of their blocks. They were +dated correctly, both bore Fox’s name as driver, and both showed +consignments of liquor, identical except for the additional four kegs +of brandy on the second. There was, furthermore, no sign that this had +been added after the remainder. The slight lightening in the color +towards the bottom of the sheet, due to the use of blotting paper, was +so progressive as almost to prove the whole had been written at the +same time. + +The first certificate was timed 1.15 p.m., the second 4.15 p.m., and it +was to the 4 of this second hour that Hunt’s eager finger pointed. As +Willis examined it he saw that the lower strokes were fainter than the +remainder. Further, the beginning of the horizontal stroke did not +quite join the first vertical stroke. + +“You see?” Hunt cried excitedly. “That figure is a forgery. It was +originally a 1, and the two lower strokes have been added to make it a +4. The case is finished!” + +Willis was less enthusiastic. + +“I’m not so sure of that,” he returned cautiously. “I don’t see light +all the way through. Just go over it again, will you?” + +“Why to me it’s as clear as daylight,” the other asserted impatiently. +“See here. Archer decides, let us suppose, that he will send out four +kegs, or one hundred gallons, of the smuggled brandy to the Anchor Bar. +What does he do? He fills out certificates for two consignments each of +which contains an identical assortment of various liquors. The brandy +he shows on one certificate only. The blocks are true copies of the +certificates except that the brandy is not entered on either. The two +blocks he times for a quarter past one and past four respectively, but +both certificates he times for a quarter past one. He hands the two +certificates to Fox. Then he sends out on the one o’clock lorry the +amount of brandy shown on one of the certificates.” + +Hunt paused and looked interrogatively at his friend, then, the latter +not replying, he resumed: + +“You follow now the position of affairs? In the office is Archer with +his blocks, correctly filled out as to time but neither showing the +brandy. On the one o’clock lorry is Fox, with one hundred gallons of +brandy among his load. In his pocket are the two certificates, both +timed for one o’clock, one showing the brandy and the other not.” + +The inspector nodded as Hunt again looked at him. + +“Now suppose,” the latter went on, “that the one o’clock lorry gets +through to its destination unchallenged, and the stuff is unloaded. The +manager arranges that the four kegs of brandy will disappear. He takes +over the certificate which does not show brandy, signs it, and the +transaction is complete. Everything is in order, and he has got four +kegs smuggled in.” + +“Good,” Willis interjected. + +“On the other hand, suppose the one o’clock trip is held up by an +exciseman. This time Fox produces the other certificate, the one which +shows the brandy. Once again everything is in order, and the Excise +officer satisfied. It is true that on this occasion Fox has been unable +to smuggle out his brandy, and on that which he carries duty must be +paid, but this rare contingency will not matter to him as long as his +method of fraud remains concealed.” + +“Seems very sound so far.” + +“I think so. Let us now consider the four o’clock trip. Fox arrives +back at the works with one of the two certificates still in his pocket, +and the make up of his four o’clock load depends on which it is. He +attempts no more smuggling that day. If his remaining certificate shows +brandy he carries brandy, if not, he leaves it behind. In either case +his certificate is in order if an Excise officer holds him up. That is, +when he has attended to one little point. He has to add two strokes to +the 1 of the hour to make it into a 4. The ease of doing this explains +why these two hours were chosen. Is that all clear?” + +“Clear, indeed, except for the one point of how the brandy item is +added to the correct block.” + +“Obviously Archer does that as soon as he learns how the first trip has +got on. If the brandy was smuggled out on the first trip, it means that +Fox is holding the brandy-bearing certificate for the second, and +Archer enters brandy on his second block. If, on the contrary, Fox has +had his first load examined, Archer will make his entry on the first +block.” + +“The scheme,” Willis declared, “really means this. If Archer wants to +smuggle out one hundred gallons of brandy, he has to send out another +hundred legitimately on the same day? If he can manage to send out two +hundred altogether then one hundred will be duty clear, but in any case +he must pay on one hundred?” + +“That’s right. It works out like that.” + +“It’s a great scheme. The only weak point that I can see is that an +Excise officer who has held up one of the trips might visit the works +and look at the certificate block before Archer gets it altered.” + +Hunt nodded. + +“I thought of that,” he said, “and it can be met quite easily. I bet +the manager telephones Archer on receipt of the stuff. I am going into +that now. I shall have a note kept at the Central of conversations to +Ferriby. If Archer doesn’t get a message by a certain time, I bet he +assumes the plan has miscarried for that day and fills in the brandy on +the first block.” + +During the next two days Hunt was able to establish the truth of his +surmise. At the same time Willis decided that his co-operation in the +work at Hull was no longer needed. For Hunt there was still plenty to +be done. He had to get direct evidence against each severally of the +managers of the five tied houses in question, as well as to ascertain +how and to whom they were passing on the “stuff,” for that they were +receiving more brandy than could be sold over their own counters was +unquestionable. But he agreed with Willis that these five men were more +than likely in ignorance of the main conspiracy, each having only a +private understanding with Archer. But whether or not this was so, +Willis did not believe he could get any evidence that they were +implicated in the murder of Coburn. + +The French end of the affair, he thought, the supply of the brandy in +the first instance, was more promising from this point of view, and the +next morning he took an early train to London as a preliminary to +starting work in France. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +THE BORDEAUX LORRIES + + +Two days later Inspector Willis sat once again in the office of M. Max, +the head of the French Excise Department in Paris. The Frenchman +greeted him politely, but without enthusiasm. + +“Ah, monsieur,” he said, “you have not received my letter? No? I wrote +to your department yesterday.” + +“It hadn’t come, sir, when I left,” Willis returned. “But perhaps if it +is something I should know, you could tell me the contents?” + +“But certainly, monsieur. It is easily done. A thousand regrets, but I +fear my department will not be of much service to you.” + +“No, sir?” Willis looked his question. + +“I fear not. But I shall explain,” M. Max gesticulated as he talked. +“After your last visit here I send two of my men to Bordeaux. They make +examination, but at first they see nothing suspicious. When the +_Girondin_ comes in they determine to test your idea of the brandy +loading. They go in a boat to the wharf at night. They pull in between +the rows of piles. They find the spaces between the tree trunks which +you have described. They know there must be a cellar behind. They hide +close by; they see the porthole lighted up; they watch the pipe go in, +all exactly as you have said. There can be no doubt brandy is secretly +loaded at the Lesque.” + +“It seemed the likely thing, sir,” Willis commented. + +“Ah, but it was good to think of. I wish to congratulate you on finding +it out.” M. Max made a little bow. “But to continue. My men wonder how +the brandy reaches the sawmill. Soon they think that the lorries must +bring it. They think so for two reasons. First, they can find no other +way. The lorries are the only vehicles which approach; nothing goes by +water; there cannot be a tunnel, because there is no place for the +other end. There remains only the lorries. Second, they think it is the +lorries because the drivers change the numbers. It is suspicious, is it +not? Yes? You understand me?” + +“Perfectly, sir.” + +“Good. My men then watch the lorries. They get help from the police at +Bordeaux. They find the firewood trade is a nothing.” M. Max shrugged +his shoulders. “There are five firms to which the lorries go, and of +the five, four—” His gesture indicated a despair too deep for words. +“To serve them, it is but a blind; so my men think. But the fifth firm, +it is that of Raymond Fils, one of the biggest distilleries of +Bordeaux. That Raymond Fils are sending out the brandy suggests itself +to my men. At last the affair marches.” + +M. Max paused, and Willis bowed to signify his appreciation of the +point. + +“My men visit Raymond Fils. They search into everything. They find the +law is not broken. All is in order. They are satisfied.” + +“But, sir, if these people are smuggling brandy into England—” Willis +was beginning when the other interrupted him. + +“But yes, monsieur, I grasp your point. I speak of French law; it is +different from yours. Here duty is not charged on just so much spirit +as is distilled. We grant the distiller a license, and it allows him to +distill any quantity up to the figure the license bears. But, monsieur, +Raymond Fils are—how do you say it?—well within their limit? Yes? They +do not break the French law.” + +“Therefore, sir, you mean you cannot help further?” + +“My dear monsieur, what would you? I have done my best for you. I make +inquiries. The matter is not for me. With the most excellent wish to +assist, what more can I?” + +Willis, realizing he could get no more, rose. + +“Nothing, sir, except to accept on my own part and that of my +department our hearty thanks for what you have done. I can assure you, +sir, I quite understand your position, and I greatly appreciate your +kindness.” + +M. Max also had risen. He politely repeated his regrets, and with +mutual compliments the two men parted. + +Willis had once spent a holiday in Paris, and he was slightly +acquainted with the city. He strolled on through the busy streets, +brilliant in the pale autumn sunlight, until he reached the Grands +Boulevards. There entering a café, he sat down, called for a bock, and +settled himself to consider his next step. + +The position created by M. Max’s action was disconcerting. Willis felt +himself stranded, literally a stranger in a strange land, sent to carry +out an investigation among a people whose language he could not even +speak! He saw at once that his task was impossible. He must have local +help or he could proceed no further. + +He thought of his own department. The Excise had failed him. What about +the Sûreté? + +But a very little thought convinced him that he was even less likely to +obtain help from this quarter. He could only base an appeal on the +possibility of a future charge of conspiracy to murder, and he realized +that the evidence for that was too slight to put forward seriously. + +What was to be done? So far as he could see, but one thing. He must +employ a private detective. This plan would meet the language +difficulty by which he was so completely hung up. + +He went to a call office and got his chief at the Yard on the long +distance wire. The latter approved his suggestion, and recommended M. +Jules Laroche of the Rue du Sommerard near the Sorbonne. Half an hour +later Willis reached the house. + +M. Laroche proved to be a tall, unobtrusive-looking man of some +five-and-forty, who had lived in London for some years and spoke as +good English as Willis himself. He listened quietly and without much +apparent interest to what his visitor had to tell him, then said he +would be glad to take on the job. + +“We had better go to Bordeaux this evening, so as to start fresh +tomorrow,” Willis suggested. + +“Two o’clock at the d’Orsay station,” the other returned. “We have just +time. We can settle our plans in the train.” + +They reached the St Jean station at Bordeaux at 10.35 that night, and +drove to the Hotel d’Espagne. They had decided that they could do +nothing until the following evening, when they would go out to the +clearing and see what a search of the mill premises might reveal. + +Next morning Laroche vanished, saying he had friends in the town whom +he wished to look up, and it was close on dinner-time before he put in +an appearance. + +“I have got some information that may help,” he said, as Willis greeted +him. “Though I’m not connected with the official force, we are very +good friends and have worked into each other’s hands. I happen to know +one of the officers of the local police, and he got me the information. +It seems that a M. Pierre Raymond is practically the owner of Raymond +Fils, the distillers you mentioned. He is a man of about thirty, and +the son of one of the original brothers. He was at one time comfortably +off, and lived in a pleasant villa in the suburbs. But latterly he has +been going the pace, and within the last two years he let his villa and +bought a tiny house next door to the distillery, where he is now +living. It is believed his money went at Monte Carlo, indeed it seems +he is a wrong ’un all round. At all events he is known to be hard up +now.” + +“And you think he moved in so that he could load up that brandy at +night?” + +“That’s what I think,” Laroche admitted. “You see, there is the motive +for it as well. He wouldn’t join the syndicate unless he was in +difficulties. I fancy M. Pierre Raymond will be an interesting study.” + +Willis nodded. The suggestion was worth investigation, and he +congratulated himself on getting hold of so excellent a colleague as +this Laroche seemed to be. + +The Frenchman during the day had hired a motor bicycle and sidecar, and +as dusk began to fall the two men left their hotel and ran out along +the Bayonne road until they reached the Lesque. There they hid their +vehicle behind some shrubs, and reaching the end of the lane, turned +down it. + +It was pitch dark among the trees, and they had some difficulty in +keeping the track until they reached the clearing. There a quarter moon +rendered objects dimly visible, and Willis at once recognized his +surroundings from the description he had received from Hilliard and +Merriman. + +“You see, somebody is in the manager’s house,” he whispered, pointing +to a light which gleamed in the window. “If Henri has taken over +Coburn’s job he may go down to the mill as Coburn did. Hadn’t we better +wait and see?” + +The Frenchman agreeing, they moved round the fringe of trees at the +edge of the clearing, just as Merriman had done on a similar occasion +some seven weeks earlier, and as they crouched in the shelter of a +clump of bushes in front of the house, they might have been interested +to know that it was from these same shrubs that that disconsolate +sentimentalist had lain dreaming of his lady love, and from which he +had witnessed her father’s stealthy journey to the mill. + +It was a good deal colder tonight than on that earlier occasion when +watch was kept on the lonely house. The two men shivered as they drew +their collars higher round their necks, and crouched down to get +shelter from the bitter wind. They had resigned themselves to a weary +vigil, during which they dared not even smoke. + +But they had not to wait so long after all. About ten the light went +out in the window and not five minutes later they saw a man appear at +the side door and walk towards the mill. They could not see his +features, though Willis assumed he was Henri. Twenty minutes later they +watched him return, and then all once more was still. + +“We had better give him an hour to get to bed,” Willis whispered. “If +he were to look out it wouldn’t do for him to see two detectives +roaming about his beloved clearing.” + +“We might go at eleven,” Laroche proposed, and so they did. + +Keeping as much as possible in the shelter of the bushes, they +approached the mill. Willis had got a sketch-plan of the building from +Merriman, and he moved round to the office door. His bent wire proved +as efficacious with French locks as with English, and in a few moments +they stood within, with the door shut behind them. + +“Now,” said Willis, carefully shading the beam of his electric torch, +“let’s see those lorries first of all.” + +As has already been stated, the garage was next to the office, and +passing through the communicating door, the two men found five of the +ponderous vehicles therein. A moment’s examination of the number plates +showed that on all the machines the figures were separate from the +remainder of the lettering, being carried on small brass plates which +dropped vertically into place through slots in the main castings. But +the joint at each side of the number was not conspicuous because +similar vertical lines were cut into the brass between each letter of +the whole legend. + +“That’s good,” Laroche observed. “Make a thing unnoticeable by +multiplying it!” + +Of the five lorries, two were loaded with firewood and three empty. The +men moved round examining them with their torches. + +“Hallo,” Laroche called suddenly in a low voice, “what have we here, +Willis?” + +The inspector crossed over to the other, who was pointing to the +granolithic floor in front of him. One of the empty lorries was close +to the office wall, and the Frenchman stood between the two. On the +floor were three drops of some liquid. + +“Can you smell them?” he inquired. + +Willis knelt down and sniffed, then slowly got up again. + +“Good man,” he said, with a trace of excitement in his manner. “It’s +brandy right enough.” + +“Yes,” returned the other. “Security has made our nocturnal friend +careless. The stuff must have come from this lorry, I fancy.” + +They turned to the vehicle and examined it eagerly. For some time they +could see nothing remarkable, but presently it gave up its secret The +deck was double! Beneath it was a hollow space some six feet by nine +long, and not less than three inches deep. And not only so. This hollow +space was continued up under the unusually large and wide driver’s +seat, save for a tiny receptacle for petrol. In a word the whole top of +the machine was a vast secret tank. + +The men began measuring and calculating, and they soon found that no +less than one hundred and fifty gallons of liquid could be carried +therein. + +“One hundred and fifty gallons of brandy per trip!” Willis ejaculated. +“Lord! It’s no wonder they make it pay.” + +They next tackled the problem of how the tank was filled and emptied, +and at last their perseverance was rewarded. Behind the left trailing +wheel, under the framing, was a small hinged door about six inches +square and fastened by a spring operated by a mock rivet head. This +being opened, revealed a cavity containing a pipe connected to the tank +and fitted with a stop-cock and the half of a union coupling. + +“The pipe which connects with that can’t be far away,” Laroche +suggested. “We might have a look round for it.” + +The obvious place was the wall of the office, which ran not more than +three feet from the vehicle. It was finished with vertical tongued and +V-jointed sheeting, and a comparatively short search revealed the loose +board the detectives were by this time expecting. Behind it was +concealed a pipe, jointed concertina-wise, and ending in the other half +of the union coupling. It was evident the joints would allow the half +coupling to be pulled out and connected with that on the lorry. The +pipe ran down through the floor, showing that the lorry could be +emptied by gravity. + +“A good safe scheme,” Laroche commented. “If I had seen that lorry a +hundred times I should never have suspected a tank. It’s well +designed.” + +They turned to examine the other vehicles. All four were identical in +appearance with the first, but all were strictly what they seemed, +containing no secret receptacle. + +“Merriman said they had six lorries,” Willis remarked. “I wonder where +the sixth is.” + +“At the distillery, don’t you think?” the Frenchman returned. “Those +drops prove that manager fellow has just been unloading this one. I +expect he does it every night. But if so, Raymond must load a vehicle +every night too.” + +“That’s true. We may assume the job is done every night, because +Merriman watched Coburn come down here three nights running. It was +certainly to unload the lorry.” + +“Doubtless; and he probably came at two in the morning on account of +his daughter.” + +“That means there are two tank lorries,” Willis went on, continuing his +own line of thought. “I say, Laroche, let’s mark this one so that we +may know it again.” + +They made tiny scratches on the paint at each corner of the big +vehicle, then Willis turned back to the office. + +“I’d like to find that cellar while we’re here,” he remarked. “We know +there is a cellar, for those Customs men saw the _Girondin_ loaded from +it. We might have a look round for the entrance.” + +Then ensued a search similar to that which Willis had carried out in +the depot at Ferriby, except that in this case they found what they +were looking for in a much shorter time. In the office was a flat +roll-topped desk, with the usual set of drawers at each side of the +central knee well, and when Willis found it was clamped to the floor he +felt he need go no further. On the ground in the knee well, and +projecting out towards the revolving chair in front, was a mat. Willis +raised it, and at once observed a joint across the boards where in +ordinary circumstances no joint should be. He fumbled and pressed and +pulled, and in a couple of minutes he had the satisfaction of seeing +the floor under the well rise and reveal the head of a ladder leading +down into the darkness below. + +“Here we are,” he called softly to Laroche, who was searching at the +other side of the room. + +The cellar into which the two detectives descended was lined with +timber like that at Ferriby. Indeed the two were identical, except that +only one passage—that under the wharf—led out of this one. It contained +a similar large tun with a pipe leading down the passage under the +wharf, on which was a pump. The only difference was in the connection +of the pipes. At Ferriby the pump conveyed from the wharf to the tun, +here it was from the tun to the wharf. The pipe from the garage came +down through the ceiling and ran direct into the tun. + +The two men walked down the passage towards the river. Here also the +arrangement was the same as at Ferriby, and they remained only long +enough for Willis to point out to the Frenchman how the loading +apparatus was worked. + +“Well,” said the former, as they returned to the office, “that’s not so +bad for one day. I suppose it’s all we can do here. If we can learn as +much at that distillery we shall soon have all we want.” + +Laroche pointed to a chair. + +“Sit down a moment,” he invited. “I have been thinking over that plan +we discussed in the train, of searching the distillery at night, and I +don’t like it. There are too many people about, and we are nearly +certain to be seen. It’s quite different from working a place like +this.” + +“Quite,” Willis answered rather testily. “I don’t like it either, but +what can we do?” + +“I’ll tell you what I should do.” Laroche leaned forward and checked +his points on his fingers. “That lorry had just been unloaded. It’s +empty now, and if our theory is correct it will be taken to the +distillery tomorrow and left there over-night to be filled up again. +Isn’t that so?” + +Willis nodded impatiently and the other went on: + +“Now, it is clear that no one can fill up that tank without leaving +finger-prints on the pipe connections in that secret box. Suppose we +clean those surfaces now, and suppose we come back here the night after +tomorrow, _before_ the man here unloads, we could get the prints of the +person who filled up in the distillery.” + +“Well,” Willis asked sharply, “and how would that help us?” + +“This way. Tomorrow you will be an English distiller with a forest you +could get cheap near your works. You have an idea of running your +stills on wood fires. You naturally call to see how M. Raymond does it, +and you get shown over his works. You have prepared a plan of your +proposals. You hand it to him when he can’t put it down on a desk. He +holds it between his fingers and thumb, and eventually returns it to +you. You go home and use powder. You have his finger-prints. You +compare the two sets.” + +Willis was impressed. The plan was simple, and it promised to gain for +them all the information they required without recourse to a hazardous +nocturnal visit to the distillery. But he wished he had thought of it +himself. + +“We might try it,” he admitted, without enthusiasm. “It couldn’t do +much harm anyway.” + +They returned to the garage, opened the secret lid beneath the lorry, +and with a cloth moistened with petrol cleaned the fittings. Then after +a look round to make sure that nothing had been disturbed, they let +themselves out of the shed, regained the lane and their machine, and +some forty minutes later were in Bordeaux. + +On reconsideration they decided that as Raymond might have obtained +Willis’s description from Captain Beamish, it would be wiser for +Laroche to visit the distillery. Next morning, therefore, the latter +bought a small writing block, and taking an inside leaf, which he +carefully avoided touching with his hands, he drew a cross-section of a +wood-burning fire-box copied from an illustration in a book of +reference in the city library, at the same time reading up the subject +so as to be able to talk on it without giving himself away. Then he set +out on his mission. + +In a couple of hours he returned. + +“Got that all right,” he exclaimed, as he rejoined the inspector. “I +went and saw the fellow; said I was going to start a distillery in the +Ardennes where there was plenty of wood, and wanted to see his plant. +He was very civil, and took me round and showed me everything. There is +a shed there above the still furnaces with hoppers for the firewood to +go down, and in it was standing the lorry—_the_ lorry, I saw our marks +on the corner. It was loaded with firewood, and he explained that it +would be emptied last thing before the day-shift left, so as to do the +stills during the night. Well, I got a general look round the concern, +and I found that the large tuns which contain the finished brandy were +just at the back of the wall of the shed where the lorry was standing. +So it is easy to see what happens. Evidently there is a pipe through +the wall, and Raymond comes down at night and fills up the lorry.” + +“And did you get his finger-prints?” + +“Have ’em here.” + +Locking the door of their private room, Laroche took from his pocket +the sketch he had made. + +“He held this up quite satisfactorily,” he went on, “and there should +be good prints.” + +Willis had meanwhile spread a newspaper on the table and taken from his +suitcase a small bottle of powdered lamp-black and a camel’s-hair +brush. Laying the sketch on the newspaper he gently brushed some of the +black powder over it, blowing off the surplus. To the satisfaction of +both men, there showed up near the left bottom corner the distinct mark +of a left thumb. + +“Now the other side.” + +Willis turned the paper and repeated the operation on the back. There +he got prints of a left fore and second finger. + +“Excellent, clear prints, those,” Willis commented, continuing: “And +now I have something to tell you. While you were away I have been +thinking over this thing, and I believe I’ve got an idea.” + +Laroche looked interested, and the other went on slowly: + +“There are two brandy-carrying lorries. Every night one of these lies +at the distillery and the other at the clearing; one is being loaded +and the other unloaded; and every day the two change places. Now we may +take it that neither of those lorries is sent to any other place in the +town, lest the brandy tanks might be discovered. For the same reason, +they probably only make the one run mentioned per day. Is that right so +far?” + +“I should think so,” Laroche replied cautiously. + +“Very well. Let us suppose these two lorries are Nos. 1 and 2. No. 1 +goes to the distillery say every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and +returns on the other three days, while No. 2 does vice versa, one trip +each day remember. And this goes on day after day, week after week, +month after month. Now is it too much to assume that sooner or later +someone is bound to notice this—some worker at the clearing or the +distillery, some policeman on his beat, some clerk at a window +over-looking the route? And if anyone notices it will he not wonder why +it _always_ happens that these two lorries go to this one place and to +no other, while the syndicate has six lorries altogether trading into +the town? And if this observer should mention his discovery to someone +who could put two and two together, suspicion might be aroused, +investigation undertaken, and presently the syndicate is up a tree. Now +do you see what I’m getting at?” + +Laroche had been listening eagerly, and now he made a sudden gesture. + +“But of course!” he cried delightedly. “The changing of the numbers!” + +“The changing of the numbers,” Willis repeated. “At least, it looks +like that to me. No. 1 does the Monday run to the distillery. They +change the number plate, and No. 4 does it on Wednesday, while No. 1 +runs to some other establishment, where it can be freely examined by +anyone who is interested. How does it strike you?” + +“You have got it. You have certainly got it.” Laroche was more +enthusiastic than the inspector had before seen him. “It’s what you +call a cute scheme, quite on par with the rest of the business. They +didn’t leave much to chance, these! And yet it was this very precaution +that gave them away.” + +“No doubt, but that was an accident.” + +“You can’t,” said the Frenchman sententiously, “make _anything_ +completely watertight.” + +The next night they went out to the clearing, and as soon as it was +dark once more entered the shed. There with more powder—white this +time-they tested the tank lorry for finger-marks. As they had hoped, +there were several on the secret fittings, among others a clear print +of a left thumb on the rivet head of the spring. + +A moment’s examination only was necessary. The prints were those of M. +Pierre Raymond. + +Once again Inspector Willis felt that he ought to have completed his +case, and once again second thoughts showed him that he was as far away +from that desired end as ever. He had been trying to find accomplices +in the murder of Coburn, and by a curious perversity, instead of +finding them he had bit by bit solved the mystery of the Pit-Prop +Syndicate. He had shown, firstly, that they were smuggling brandy, and, +secondly, how they were doing it. For that he would no doubt get a +reward, but such was not his aim. What he wanted was to complete his +own case and get the approval of his own superiors and bring promotion +nearer. And in this he had failed. + +For hours he pondered over the problem, then suddenly an idea which +seemed promising flashed into his mind. He thought it over with the +utmost care, and finally decided that in the absence of something +better he must try it. + +In the morning the two men travelled to Paris, and Willis, there taking +leave of his colleague, crossed to London, and an hour later was with +his chief at the Yard. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +WILLIS SPREADS HIS NET + + +Though Inspector Willis had spent so much time out of London in his +following up of the case, he had by no means lost sight of Madeleine +Coburn and Merriman. The girl, he knew, was still staying with her aunt +at Eastbourne, and the local police authorities, from whom he got his +information, believed that her youth and health were reasserting +themselves, and that she was rapidly recovering from the shock of her +father’s tragic death. Merriman haunted the town. He practically lived +at the George, going up and down daily to his office, and spending as +many of his evenings and his Sundays at Mrs. Luttrell’s as he dared. + +But though the young man had worn himself almost to a shadow by his +efforts, he felt that the realization of his hopes was as far off as +ever. Madeleine had told him that she would not marry him until the +mystery of her father’s murder was cleared up and the guilty parties +brought to justice, and he was becoming more and more afraid that she +would keep her word. In vain he implored her to consider the living +rather than the dead, and not to wreck his life and her own for what, +after all, was but a sentiment. + +But though she listened to his entreaties and was always kind and +gentle, she remained inflexible in her resolve. Merriman felt that his +only plan, failing the discovery of Mr. Coburn’s assassin, was +unobtrusively to keep as much as possible in her company, in the hope +that she would grow accustomed to his presences and perhaps in time +come to need it. + +Under these circumstances his anxiety as to the progress of the case +was very great, and on several occasions he had written to Willis +asking him how his inquiry was going on. But the inspector had not been +communicative, and Merriman had no idea how matters actually stood. + +It was therefore with feelings of pleasurable anticipation that he +received a telephone call from Willis at Scotland Yard. + +“I have just returned from Bordeaux,” the inspector said, “and I am +anxious to have a chat with Miss Coburn on some points that have +arisen. I should be glad of your presence also, if possible. Can you +arrange an interview?” + +“Do you want her to come to town?” + +“Not necessarily; I will go to EASTBOURNE if more convenient. But our +meeting must be kept strictly secret. The syndicate must not get to +know.” + +Merriman felt excitement and hope rising within him. + +“Better go to Eastbourne then,” he advised. “Come down with me tonight +by the 5.20 from Victoria.” + +“No,” Willis answered, “we mustn’t be seen together. I shall meet you +at the corner of the Grand Parade and Carlisle Road at nine o’clock.” + +This being agreed on, both men began to make their arrangements. In +Merriman’s case these consisted in throwing up his work at the office +and taking the first train to Eastbourne. At five o’clock he was asking +for Miss Coburn at Mrs. Luttrell’s door. + +“Dear Madeleine,” he said, when he had told her his news, “you must not +begin to expect things. It may mean nothing at all. Don’t build on it.” + +But soon he had made her as much excited as he was himself. He stayed +for dinner, leaving shortly before nine to keep his appointment with +Willis. Both men were to return to the house, when Madeleine would see +them alone. + +Inspector Willis did not travel by Merriman’s train. Instead he caught +the 5.35 to Brighton, dined there, and then slipping out of the hotel, +motored over to Eastbourne. Dismissing his vehicle at the Grand Hotel, +he walked down the Parade and found Merriman at the rendezvous. In ten +minutes they were in Mrs. Luttrell’s drawing-room. + +“I am sorry, Miss Coburn,” Willis began politely, “to intrude on you in +this way, but the fact is, I want your help and indirectly the help of +Mr. Merriman. But it is only fair, I think, to tell you first what has +transpired since we last met. I must warn you, however, that I can only +do so in the strictest confidence. No whisper of what I am going to say +must pass the lips of either of you.” + +“I promise,” said Merriman instantly. + +“And I,” echoed Madeleine. + +“I didn’t require that assurance,” Willis went on. “It is sufficient +that you understand the gravity of the situation. Well, after the +inquest I set to work,” and he briefly related the story of his +investigations in London and in Hull, his discoveries at Ferriby, his +proof that Archer was the actual murderer, the details of the smuggling +organization and, finally, his suspicion that the other members of the +syndicate were privy to Mr. Coburn’s death, together with his failure +to prove it. + +His two listeners heard him with eager attention, in which interest in +his story was mingled with admiration of his achievement. + +“So Hilliard was right about the brandy after all!” Merriman exclaimed. +“He deserves some credit for that. I think he believed in it all the +time, in spite of our conclusion that we had proved it impossible. _By_ +Jove! _How_ you can be had!” + +Willis turned to him. + +“Don’t be disappointed about your part in it, sir,” he advised. “I +consider that you and Mr. Hilliard did uncommonly well. I may tell you +that I thought so much of your work that I checked nothing of what you +had done.” + +Merriman colored with pleasure. + +“Jolly good of you to say so, I’m sure, inspector,” he said; “but I’m +afraid most of the credit for that goes to Hilliard.” + +“It was your joint work I was speaking of,” Willis insisted. “But now +to get on to business. As I said, my difficulty is that I suspect the +members of the syndicate of complicity in Mr. Coburn’s death, but I +can’t prove it. I have thought out a plan which may or may not produce +this proof. It is in this that I want your help.” + +“Mr. Inspector,” cried Madeleine reproachfully, “need you ask for it?” + +Willis laughed. + +“I don’t think so. But I can’t very well come in and command it, you +know.” + +“Of course you can,” Madeleine returned. “You know very well that in +such a cause Mr. Merriman and I would do _anything_.” + +“I believe it, and I am going to put you to the test. I’ll tell you my +idea. It has occurred to me that these people might be made to give +themselves away. Suppose they had one of their private meetings to +discuss the affairs of the syndicate, and that, unknown to them, +witnesses could be present to overhear what was said. Would there not +at least be a sporting chance that they would incriminate themselves?” + +“Yes!” said Merriman, much interested. “Likely enough. But I don’t see +how you could arrange that.” + +Willis smiled slightly. + +“I think it might be managed,” he answered. “If a meeting were to take +place we could easily learn where it was to be held and hear what went +on. But the first point is the difficulty—the question of the holding +of the meeting. In the ordinary course there might be none for months. +Therefore we must take steps to have one summoned. And that,” he turned +to Madeleine, “is where I want your help.” + +His hearers stared, mystified, and Willis resumed. + +“Something must happen of such importance to the welfare of the +syndicate that the leaders will decide that a full conference of the +members is necessary. So far as I can see, you alone can cause that +something to happen. I will tell you how. But I must warn you that I +fear it will rake up painful memories.” + +Madeleine, her lips parted, was hanging on his words. + +“Go on,” she said quickly, “we have settled all that.” + +“Thank you,” said Willis, taking a sheet of paper from his pocket. “I +have here the draft of a letter which I want you to write to Captain +Beamish. You can phrase it as you like; in fact I want it in your own +words. Read it over and you will understand.” + +The draft ran as follows: + +“SILVERDALE ROAD, +“EASTBOURNE. + + +“DEAR CAPTAIN BEAMISH,—In going over some papers belonging to my late +father, I learn to my surprise that he was not a salaried official of +your syndicate, but a partner. It seems to me, therefore, that as his +heir I am entitled to his share of the capital of the concern, or at +all events to the interest on it. I have to express my astonishment +that no recognition of this fact has as yet been made by the syndicate. + “I may say that I have also come on some notes relative to the + business of the syndicate, which have filled me with anxiety and + dismay, but which I do not care to refer to in detail in writing. + “I think I should like an interview with you to hear your + explanation of these two matters, and to discuss what action is to + be taken with regard to them. You could perhaps find it convenient + to call on me here, or I could meet you in London if you preferred + it. + + +“Yours faithfully, +“MADELEINE COBURN.” + + +Madeleine made a grimace as she read this letter. + +“Oh,” she cried, “but how could I do that? I didn’t find any notes, you +know, and besides—it would be so dreadful—acting as a decoy—” + +“There’s something more important than that,” Merriman burst in +indignantly. “Do you realize, Mr. Inspector, that if Miss Coburn were +to send that letter she would put herself in very real danger?” + +“Not at all,” Willis answered quietly. “You have not heard my whole +scheme. My idea is that when Beamish gets that letter he will lay it +before Archer, and they will decide that they must find out what Miss +Coburn knows, and get her quieted about the money. They will say: ‘We +didn’t think she was that kind, but it’s evident she is out for what +she can get. Let’s pay her a thousand or two a year as interest on her +father’s alleged share—it will be a drop in the bucket to us, but it +will seem a big thing to her—and that will give us a hold on her +keeping silence, if she really does know anything.’ Then Beamish will +ask Miss Coburn to meet him, probably in London. She will do so, not +alone, but with some near friend, perhaps yourself, Mr. Merriman, +seeing you were at the clearing and know something of the +circumstances. You will be armed, and in addition I shall have a couple +of men from the Yard within call—say, disguised as waiters, if a +restaurant is chosen for the meeting. You, Miss Coburn, will come out +in a new light at that meeting. You will put up a bluff. You will tell +Captain Beamish you know he is smuggling brandy, and that the money he +offers won’t meet the case at all. You must have £25,000 down paid as +the value of your father’s share in the concern, and in such a way as +will raise no suspicion that you knew what was in progress. The +interview we can go into in detail later, but it must be so arranged +that Beamish will see Mr. Merriman’s hand in the whole thing. On the +£25,000 being paid the incriminating notes will be handed over. You +will explain that as a precautionary measure you have sent them in a +sealed envelope to your solicitor, together with a statement of the +whole case, with instructions to open the same that afternoon if not +reclaimed before that by yourself in person. Now with regard to your +objection, Miss Coburn. I quite realize what an exceedingly nasty job +this will be for you. In ordinary circumstances I should not suggest +it. But the people against whom I ask you to act did not hesitate to +lure your father into the cab in which they intended to shoot him. They +did this by a show of friendliness, and by playing on the trust he +reposed in them, and they did it deliberately and in cold blood. You +need not hesitate from nice feeling to act as I suggest in order to get +justice for your father’s memory.” + +Madeleine braced herself up. + +“I know you are right, and if there is no other way I shall not +hesitate,” she said, but there was a piteous look in her eyes. “And you +will help me, Seymour?” She looked appealingly at her companion. + +Merriman demurred on the ground that, even after taking all Willis’s +precautions, the girl would still be in danger, but she would not +consider that aspect of the question at all, and at last he was +overborne. Madeleine with her companion’s help then rewrote the letter +in her own phraseology, and addressed it to Captain Beamish, c/o +Messrs. The Landes Pit-Prop Syndicate, Ferriby, Hull. Having arranged +that he would receive immediate telephonic information of a reply, +Willis left the house and was driven back to Brighton. Next morning he +returned to London. + +The _Girondin_, he reckoned, would reach Ferriby on the following +Friday, and on the Thursday he returned to Hull. He did not want to be +seen with Hunt, as he expected the latter’s business would by this time +be too well known. He therefore went to a different hotel, ringing up +the Excise man and arranging a meeting for that evening. + +Hunt turned up about nine, and the two men retired to Willis’s bedroom, +where the inspector described his doings at Bordeaux. Then Hunt told of +his discoveries since the other had left. + +“I’ve got all I want at last,” he said. “You remember we both realized +that those five houses were getting in vastly more brandy than they +could possibly sell? Well, I’ve found out how they are getting rid of +the surplus.” + +Willis looked his question. + +“They are selling it round to other houses. They have three men doing +nothing else. They go in and buy anything from a bottle up to three or +four kegs, and there is always a good reason for the purchase. Usually +it is that they represent a publican whose stock is just out, and who +wants a quantity to keep him going. But the point is that all the +purchases are perfectly in order. They are openly made and the full +price is paid. But, following it up, I discovered that there is +afterwards a secret rebate. A small percentage of the price is +refunded. This pays everyone concerned and ensures secrecy.” + +Willis nodded. + +“It’s well managed all through,” he commented. “They deserved to +succeed.” + +“Yes, but they’re not going to. All the same my discoveries won’t help +you. I’m satisfied that none of these people know anything of the main +conspiracy.” + +Early on the following morning Willis was once more at work. Dawn had +not completely come when he motored from the city to the end of the +Ferriby lane. Ten minutes after leaving his car he was in the ruined +cottage. There he unearthed his telephone from the box in which he had +hidden it, and took up his old position at the window, prepared to +listen in to whatever messages might pass. + +He had a longer vigil than on previous occasions, and it was not until +nearly four that he saw Archer lock the door of his office and move +towards the filing-room. Almost immediately came Benson’s voice +calling: “Are you there?” + +They conversed as before for a few minutes. The _Girondin_, it +appeared, had arrived some hours previously with a cargo of “1375.” It +was clear that the members of the syndicate had agreed never to mention +the word “gallons.” It was, Willis presumed, a likely enough precaution +against eavesdroppers, and he thought how much sooner both Hilliard and +himself would have guessed the real nature of the conspiracy, had it +not been observed. + +Presently they came to the subject about which Willis was expecting to +hear. Beamish, the manager explained, was there and wished to speak to +Archer. + +“That you, Archer?” came in what Willis believed he recognized as the +captain’s voice. “I’ve had rather a nasty jar, a letter from Madeleine +Coburn. Wants Coburn’s share in the affair, and hints at knowledge of +what we’re really up to. Reads as if she was put up to it by someone, +probably that —— Merriman. Hold on a minute and I’ll read it to you.” +Then followed Madeleine’s letter. + +Archer’s reply was short but lurid, and Willis, not withstanding the +seriousness of the matter, could not help smiling. + +There was a pause, and then Archer asked: + +“When did you get that?” + +“Now, when we got in; but Benson tells me the letter has been waiting +for me for three days.” + +“You might read it again.” + +Beamish did so, and presently Archer went on: + +“In my opinion, we needn’t be unduly alarmed. Of course she may know +something, but I fancy it’s what you say; that Merriman is getting her +to put up a bluff. But it’ll take thinking over. I have an appointment +presently, and in any case we couldn’t discuss it adequately over the +telephone. We must meet. Could you come up to my house tonight?” + +“Yes, if you think it wise?” + +“It’s not wise, but I think we must risk it. You’re not known here. But +come alone; Benson shouldn’t attempt it.” + +“Right. What time?” + +“What about nine? I often work in the evenings, and I’m never +disturbed. Come round to my study window and I shall be there. Tap +lightly. The window is on the right-hand side of the house as you come +up the drive, the fourth from the corner. You can slip round to it in +the shadow of the bushes, and keep on the grass the whole time.” + +“Right. Nine o’clock, then.” + +The switch of the telephone clicked, and presently Willis saw Archer +reappear in his office. + +The inspector was disappointed. He had hoped that the conspirators +would have completed their plans over the telephone, and that he would +have had nothing to do but listen to what they arranged. Now he saw +that if he were to gain the information he required, it would mean a +vast deal more trouble, and perhaps danger as well. + +He felt that at all costs he must be present at the interview in +Archer’s study, but the more he thought about it, the more difficult +the accomplishment of this seemed. He was ignorant of the plan of the +house, or what hiding-places, if any, there might be in the study, nor +could he think of any scheme by which he could gain admittance. +Further, there was but little time in which to make inquiries or +arrangements, as he could not leave his present retreat until dark, or +say six o’clock. He saw the problem would be one of the most difficult +he had ever faced. + +But the need for solving it was paramount, and when darkness had set in +he let himself out of the cottage and walked the mile or more to +Archer’s residence. It was a big square block of a house, approached by +a short winding drive, on each side of which was a border of +rhododendrons. The porch was in front, and the group of windows to the +left of it were lighted up—the dining-room, Willis imagined. He +followed the directions given to Beamish and moved round to the right, +keeping well in the shadow of the shrubs. The third and fourth windows +from the corner on the right side were also lighted up, and the +inspector crept silently up and peeped over the sill. The blinds were +drawn down, but that on the third window was not quite pulled to the +bottom, and through the narrow slit remaining he could see into the +room. + +It was empty, but evidently only for the time being, as a cheerful fire +burned in the grate. Furnished as a study, everything bore the impress +of wealth and culture. By looking from each end of the slot in turn, +nearly all the floor area and more than half of the walls became +visible, and a glance showed the inspector that nowhere in his purview +was there anything behind which he might conceal himself, supposing he +could obtain admission. + +But could he obtain admission? He examined the sashes. They were of +steel, hinged and opening inwards in the French manner, and were +fastened by a handle which could not be turned from without. Had they +been the ordinary English sashes fastened with snibs he would have had +the window open in a few seconds, but with these he could do nothing. + +He moved round the house examining the other windows. All were fitted +with the same type of sash, and all were fastened. The front door also +was shut, and though he might have been able to open it with his bent +wire, he felt that to adventure himself into the hall without any idea +of the interior would be too dangerous. Here, as always, he was +hampered by the fact that discovery would mean the ruin of his case. + +Having completed the circuit of the building, he looked once more +through the study window. At once he saw that his opportunity was gone. +At the large desk sat Archer busily writing. + +Various expedients to obtain admission to the house passed through his +brain, all to be rejected as impracticable. Unless some unexpected +incident occurred of which he could take advantage, he began to fear he +would be unable to accomplish his plan. + +As by this time it was half past eight, he withdrew from the window and +took up his position behind a neighboring shrub. He did not wish to be +seen by Beamish, should the latter come early to the rendezvous. + +He had, however, to wait for more than half an hour before a dark form +became vaguely visible in the faint light which shone through the study +blinds. It approached the window, and a tap sounded on the glass. In a +moment the blind went up, the sash opened, the figure passed through, +the sash closed softly, and the blind was once more drawn down. In +three seconds Willis was back at the sill. + +The slot under the blind still remained, the other window having been +opened. Willis first examined the fastening of the latter in the hope +of opening the sash enough to hear what was said, but to his +disappointment he found it tightly closed. He had therefore to be +content with observation through the slot. + +He watched the two men sit down at either side of the fire, and light +cigars. Then Beamish handed the other a paper, presumably Madeleine’s +letter. Archer having read it twice, a discussion began. At first +Archer seemed to be making some statement, to judge by the other’s rapt +attention and the gestures of excitement or concern which he made. But +no word of the conversation reached the inspector’s ears. + +He watched for nearly two hours, getting gradually more and more +cramped from his stooping position, and chilled by the sharp autumn +air. During all that time the men talked earnestly, then, shortly after +eleven, they got up and approached the window. Willis retreated quickly +behind his bush. + +The window opened softly and Beamish stepped out to the grass, the +light shining on his strong, rather lowering face. Archer leaned out of +the window after him, and Willis heard him say in low tones, “Then +you’ll speak up at eleven?” to which the other nodded and silently +withdrew. The window closed, the blind was lowered, and all remained +silent. + +Willis waited for some minutes to let the captain get clear away, then +leaving his hiding-place and again keeping on the grass, he passed down +the drive and out on to the road. He was profoundly disappointed. He +had failed in his purpose, and the only ray of light in the immediate +horizon was that last remark of Archer’s. If it meant, as he presumed +it did, that the men were to communicate by the secret telephone at +eleven in the morning, all might not yet be lost. He might learn then +what he had missed tonight. + +It seemed hardly worth while returning to Hull. He therefore went to +the Raven Bar in Ferriby, knocked up the landlord, and by paying four +or five times the proper amount, managed to get a meal and some food +for the next day. Then he returned to the deserted cottage, he let +himself in, closed the door behind him, and lying down on the floor +with his head on his arm, fell asleep. + +Next morning found him back at his post at the broken window, with the +telephone receiver at his ear. His surmise at the meaning of Archer’s +remark at the study window proved to be correct, for precisely at +eleven he heard the familiar: “Are you there?” which heralded a +conversation. Then Beamish’s voice went on: + +“I have talked this business over with Benson, and he makes a +suggestion which I think is an improvement on our plan. He thinks we +should have our general meeting in London immediately after I have +interviewed Madeleine Coburn. The advantage of this scheme would be +that if we found she possessed really serious knowledge, we could +immediately consider our next move, and I could, if necessary, see her +again that night. Benson thinks I should fix up a meeting with her at +say 10.30 or 11, that I could then join you at lunch at 1.30, after +which we could discuss my report, and I could see the girl again at 4 +or 5 o’clock. It seems to me a sound scheme. What do you say?” + +“It has advantages,” Archer answered slowly. “If you both think it +best, I’m quite agreeable. Where then should the meetings be held?” + +“In the case of Miss Coburn there would be no change in our last +night’s arrangement; a private sitting-room at the Gresham would still +do excellently. If you’re going to town you could fix up some place for +our own meeting—preferably close by.” + +“Very well, I’m going up on Tuesday in any case, and I’ll arrange +something. I shall let Benson know, and he can tell you and the others. +I think we should all go up by separate trains. I shall probably go by +the 5.3 from Hull on the evening before. Let’s see, when will you be in +again?” + +“Monday week about midday, I expect. Benson could go up that morning, +Bulla and I separately by the 4, and Fox, Henri, and Raymond, if he +comes, by the first train next morning. How would that do?” + +“All right, I think. The meetings then will be on Tuesday at 11 and +1.30, Benson to give you the address of the second. We can arrange at +the meeting about returning to Hull.” + +“Righto,” Beamish answered shortly, and the conversation ended. + +Willis for once was greatly cheered by what he had overheard. His +failure on the previous evening was evidently not going to be so +serious as he had feared. He had in spite of it gained a knowledge of +the conspirators’ plans, and he chuckled with delight as he thought how +excellently his ruse was working, and how completely the gang were +walking into the trap which he had prepared. As far as he could see, he +held all the trump cards of the situation, and if he played his hand +carefully he should undoubtedly get not only the men, but the evidence +to convict them. + +To learn the rendezvous for the meeting of the syndicate he would have +to follow Archer to town, and shadow him as he did his business. This +was Saturday, and the managing director had said he was going on the +following Tuesday. From that there would be a week until the meeting, +which would give more than time to make the necessary arrangements. + +Willis remained in the cottage until dark that evening, then, making +his way to Ferriby station, returned to Hull. His first action on +reaching the city was to send a letter to Madeleine, asking her to +forward Beamish’s reply to him at the Yard. + +On Monday he began his shadowing of Archer, lest the latter should go +to town that day. But the distiller made no move until the Tuesday, +travelling up that morning by the 6.15 from Hull. + +At 12.25 they reached King’s Cross. Archer leisurely left the train, +and crossing the platform, stepped into a taxi and was driven away. +Willis, in a second taxi, followed about fifty yards behind. The chase +led westwards along the Euston Road until, turning to the left down +Gower Street, the leading vehicle pulled up at the door of the Gresham +Hotel in Bedford Square. Willis’s taxi ran on past the other, and +through the backlight the inspector saw Archer alight and pass into the +hotel. + +Stopping at a door in Bloomsbury Street, Willis sat watching. In about +five minutes Archer reappeared, and again entering his taxi, was driven +off southwards. Willis’s car slid once more in behind the other, and +the chase recommenced. They crossed Oxford Street, and passing down +Charing Cross Road stopped at a small foreign restaurant in a narrow +lane off Cranbourne Street. + +Willis’s taxi repeated its previous maneuver, and halted opposite a +shop from where the inspector could see the other vehicle through the +backlight. He thought he had all the information he needed, but there +was the risk that Archer might not find the room he required at the +little restaurant and have to try elsewhere. + +This second call lasted longer than the first, and a quarter of an hour +had passed before the distiller emerged and reentered his taxi. This +time the chase was short. At the Trocadero Archer got out, dismissed +his taxi, and passed into the building. Willis, following discreetly, +was in time to see the other seat himself at a table and leisurely take +up the bill of fare. Believing the quarry would remain where he was for +another half hour at least, the inspector slipped unobserved out of the +room, and jumping once more into his taxi, was driven back to the +little restaurant off Cranbourne Street. He sent for the manager and +drew him aside. + +“I’m Inspector Willis from Scotland Yard,” he said with a sharpness +strangely at variance with his usual easy-going mode of address. “See +here.” He showed his credentials, at which the manager bowed +obsequiously. “I am following that gentleman who was in here inquiring +about a room a few minutes ago. I want to know what passed between +you.” + +The manager, who was a sly, evil-looking person seemingly of Eastern +blood, began to hedge, but Willis cut him short with scant ceremony. + +“Now look here, my friend,” he said brusquely, “I haven’t time to waste +with you. That man that you were talking to is wanted for murder, and +what you have to decide is whether you’re going to act with the police +or against them. If you give us any, trouble you may find yourself in +the dock as an accomplice after the fact. In any case it’s not healthy +for a man in your position to run up against the police.” + +His bluff had more effect that it might have had with an Englishman in +similar circumstances, and the manager became polite and anxious to +assist. Yes, the gentleman had come about a room. He had ordered lunch +in a private room for a party of seven for 1.30 on the following +Tuesday. He had been very particular about the room, had insisted on +seeing it, and had approved of it. It appeared the party had some +business to discuss after lunch, and the gentleman had required a +guarantee that they would not be interrupted. The gentleman had given +his name as Mr. Hodgson. The price had been agreed on. + +Willis in his turn demanded to see the room, and he was led upstairs to +a small and rather dark chamber, containing a fair-sized oval table +surrounded by red plush chairs, a red plush sofa along one side, and a +narrow sideboard along another. The walls supported tawdry and +dilapidated decorations, in which beveled mirrors and faded gilding +bore a prominent part. Two large but quite worthless oil paintings hung +above the fireplace and the sideboard respectively, and the window was +covered with gelatine paper simulating stained glass. + +Inspector Willis stood surveying the scene with a frown on his brow. +How on earth was he to secrete himself in this barely furnished +apartment? There was not room under the sofa, still less beneath the +sideboard. Nor was there any adjoining room or cupboard in which he +could hide, his keen ear pressed to the keyhole. It seemed to him that +in this case he was doing nothing but coming up against one insoluble +problem after another. Ruefully he recalled the conversation in +Archer’s study, and he decided that, whatever it cost in time and +trouble, there must be no repetition of that fiasco. + +He stood silently pondering over the problem, the manager obsequiously +bowing and rubbing his hands. And then the idea for which he was hoping +flashed into his mind. He walked to the wall behind the sideboard and +struck it sharply. It rang hollow. + +“A partition?” he asked. “What is behind it?” + +“Anozzer room, sair. A private room, same as dees.” + +“Show it to me.” + +The “ozzer room” was smaller, but otherwise similar to that they had +just left. The doors of the two rooms were beside each other, leading +on to the same passage. + +“This will do,” Willis declared. “Now look here, Mr. Manager, I wish to +overhear the conversation of your customers, and I may or may not wish +to arrest them. You will show them up and give them lunch exactly as +you have arranged. Some officers from the Yard and myself will +previously have hidden ourselves in here. See?” + +The manager nodded. + +“In the meantime I shall send a carpenter and have a hole made in that +partition between the two rooms, a hole about two feet by one, behind +the upper part of that picture that hangs above the sideboard. Do you +understand?” + +The manager wrung his hands. + +“Ach!” he cried. “But _meine Zimmern!_ Mine rooms, zey veel pe +deestroyed!” + +“Your rooms will be none the worse,” Willis declared. “I will have the +damage made good, and I shall pay you reasonably well for everything. +You’ll not lose if you act on the square, but if not—” he stared +aggressively in the other’s face—“if the slightest hint of my plan +reaches any of the men—well, it will be ten years at least.” + +“It shall be done! All shall happen as you say!” + +“It had better,” Willis rejoined, and with a menacing look he strode +out of the restaurant. + +“The Gresham Hotel,” he called to his driver, as he reentered his taxi. + +His manner to the manageress of the Bedford Square hotel was very +different from that displayed to the German. Introducing himself as an +inspector from the Yard, he inquired the purpose of Archer’s call. +Without hesitation he was informed. The distiller had engaged a private +sitting-room for a business interview which was to take place at eleven +o’clock on the following Tuesday between a Miss Coburn, a Mr. Merriman, +and a Captain Beamish. + +“So far so good,” thought Willis exultingly, as he drove off. “They’re +walking into the trap! I shall have them all. I shall have them in a +week.” + +At the Yard he dismissed his taxi, and on reaching his room he found +the letter he was expecting from Madeleine. It contained that from +Beamish, and the latter read: + +“FERRIBY, YORKS, +“_Saturday_. + + +“DEAR MISS COBURN,—I have just received your letter of 25th inst., and +I hasten to reply. + “I am deeply grieved to learn that you consider yourself badly + treated by the members of the syndicate, and I may say at once that + I feel positive that any obligations which they may have contracted + will be immediately and honorably discharged. + “It is, however, news to me that your late father was a partner, as + I always imagined that he held his position as I do my own, namely, + as a salaried official who also receives a bonus based on the + profits of the concern. + “With regard to the notes you have found on the operations of the + syndicate, it is obvious that these must be capable of a simple + explanation, as there was nothing in the operations complicated or + difficult to understand. + “I shall be very pleased to fall in with your suggestion that we + should meet and discuss the points at issue, and I would suggest 11 + a.m. on Tuesday, 10th prox., at the Gresham Hotel in Bedford + Square, if this would suit you. + + +“With kind regards, +“Yours sincerely, +“WALTER BEAMISH.” + + +Willis smiled as he read this effusion. It was really quite well +worded, and left the door open for any action which the syndicate might +decide on. “Ah, well, my friend,” he thought grimly, “you’ll get a +little surprise on Tuesday. You’ll find Miss Coburn is not to be caught +as easily as you think. Just you wait and see.” + +For the next three or four days Willis busied himself in preparing for +his great coup. First he went down again to Eastbourne via Brighton, +and coached Madeleine and Merriman in the part they were to play in the +coming interview. Next he superintended the making of the hole through +the wall dividing the two private rooms at the Cranbourne Street +restaurant, and drilled the party of men who were to occupy the annex. +To his unbounded satisfaction, he found that every word uttered at the +table in the larger room was audible next door to anyone standing at +the aperture. Then he detailed two picked men to wait within call of +the private room at the Gresham during the interview between Madeleine +and Beamish. Finally, all his preparations in London complete, he +returned to Hull, and set himself, by means of the secret telephone, to +keep in touch with the affairs of the syndicate. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. +THE DOUBLE CROSS + + +Inspector Willis spent the Saturday before the fateful Tuesday at the +telephone in the empty cottage. Nothing of interest passed over the +wire, except that Benson informed his chief that he had had a telegram +from Beamish saying that, in order to reach Ferriby at the prearranged +hour, he was having to sail without a full cargo of props, and that the +two men went over again the various trains by which they and their +confederates would travel to London. Both items pleased Willis, as it +showed him that the plans originally made were being adhered to. + +On Monday morning, as the critical hour of his coup approached, he +became restless and even nervous—so far, that is, as an inspector of +the Yard on duty can be nervous. So much depended on the results of the +next day and a half! His own fate hung in the balance as well as that +of the men against whom he had pitted himself; Miss Coburn and Merriman +too would be profoundly affected however the affair ended, while to his +department, and even to the nation at large, his success would not be +without importance. + +He determined he would, if possible, see the various members of the +gang start, travelling himself in the train with Archer, as the leader +and the man most urgently “wanted.” Benson, he remembered, was to go +first. Willis therefore haunted the Paragon station, watching the +trains leave, and he was well satisfied when he saw Benson get on board +the 9.10 a.m. By means of a word of explanation and the passing of a +couple of shillings, he induced an official to examine the traveller’s +ticket, which proved to be a third return to King’s Cross. + +Beamish and Bulla were to travel by the 4 p.m., and Willis, carefully +disguised as a deep-sea fisherman, watched them arrive separately, take +their tickets, and enter the train. Beamish travelled first, and Bulla +third, and again the inspector had their tickets examined, and found +they were for London. + +Archer was to leave at 5.3, and Willis intended as a precautionary +measure to travel up with him and keep him under observation. Still in +his fisherman’s disguise, he took his own ticket, got into the rear of +the train, and kept his eye on the platform until he saw Archer pass, +suitcase and rug in hand. Then cautiously looking out, he watched the +other get into the through coach for King’s Cross. + +As the train ran past the depot at Ferriby, Willis observed that the +_Girondin_ was not discharging pit-props, but instead was loading casks +of some kind. He had noted on the previous Friday, when he had been in +the neighborhood, that some wagons of these casks had been shunted +inside the enclosure, and were being unloaded by the syndicate’s men. +The casks looked like those in which the crude oil for the ship’s +Diesel engines arrived, and the fact that she was loading them +unemptied—he presumed them unemptied—seemed to indicate that the +pumping plant on the wharf was out of order. + +The 5.3 p.m. ran, with a stop at Goole, to Doncaster, where the through +carriage was shunted on to one of the great expresses from the north. +More from force of habit than otherwise, Willis put his head out of the +window at Goole to watch if anyone should leave Archer’s carriage. But +no one did. + +At Doncaster Willis received something of a shock. As his train drew +into the station another was just coming out, and he idly ran his eye +along the line of coaches. A figure in the corner of a third-class +compartment attracted his attention. It seemed vaguely familiar, but it +was already out of sight before the inspector realized that it was a +likeness to Benson that had struck him. He had not seen the man’s face +and at once dismissed the matter from his mind with the careless +thought that everyone has his double. A moment later they pulled up at +the platform. + +Here again he put out his head, and it was not long before he saw +Archer alight and, evidently leaving his suitcase and rug to keep his +seat, move slowly down the platform. There was nothing remarkable in +this, as no less than seventeen minutes elapsed between the arrival of +the train from Hull and the departure of that from London, and through +passengers frequently left their carriage while it was being shunted. +At the same time Willis unostentatiously followed, and presently saw +Archer vanish into the first-class refreshment room. He took up a +position where he had a good view of the door, and waited for the +other’s reappearance. + +But the distiller was in no hurry. Ten minutes elapsed, and still he +made no sign. The express from the north thundered in, the engine +hooked off, and shunting began. The train was due out at 6.22, and now +the hands of the great clock pointed to 6.19. Willis began to be +perturbed. Had he missed his quarry? + +At 6.20 he could stand it no longer, and at risk of meeting Archer, +should the latter at that moment decide to leave the refreshment room, +he pushed open the door and glanced in. And then he breathed freely +again. Archer was sitting at a table sipping what looked like a whisky +and soda. As Willis looked he saw him glance up at the clock—now +pointing to 6.21—and calmly settle himself more comfortably in his +chair! + +Why, the man would miss the train! Willis, with a sudden feeling of +disappointment, had an impulse to run over and remind him of the hour +at which it left. But he controlled himself in time, slipped back to +his post of observation, and took up his watch. In a few seconds the +train whistled, and pulled majestically out of the station. + +For fifteen minutes Willis waited, and then he saw the distiller leave +the refreshment room and walk slowly down the platform. As Willis +followed, it was clear to him that the other had deliberately allowed +his train to start without him, though what his motive had been the +inspector could not imagine. He now approached the booking-office and +apparently bought a ticket, afterwards turning back down the platform. + +Willis slipped into a doorway until he had passed, then hurrying to the +booking-window, explained who he was and asked to what station the last +comer had booked. He was told “Selby,” and he retreated, exasperated +and puzzled beyond words. What _could_ Archer be up to? + +He bought a time-table and began to study the possibilities. First he +made himself clear as to the lie of the land. The main line of the +great East Coast route from London to Scotland ran almost due north and +south through Doncaster. Eighteen miles to the north was Selby, the +next important station. At Selby a line running east and west crossed +the other, leading in one direction to Leeds and the west, in the other +to Hull. + +About half-way between Selby and Hull, at a place called Staddlethorpe, +a line branched off and ran south-westerly through Goole to Doncaster. +Selby, Staddlethorpe, and Doncaster therefore formed a railway +triangle, one of the sides of which, produced, led to Hull. From this +it followed, as indeed the inspector had known, that passengers to and +from Hull had two points of connection with the main line, either +direct to Selby, or through Goole to Doncaster. + +He began to study the trains. The first northwards was the 4 p.m. +dining-car express from King’s Cross to Newcastle. It left Doncaster at +7.56 and reached Selby at 8.21. Would Archer travel by it? And if he +did, what would be his next move? + +For nearly an hour Willis sat huddled up in the corner of a seat, his +eye on Archer in the distance, and his mind wrestling with the problem. +For nearly an hour he racked his brains without result, then suddenly a +devastating idea flashed before his consciousness, leaving him rigid +with dismay. For a moment his mind refused to accept so disastrous a +possibility, but as he continued to think over it he found that one +puzzling and unrelated fact after another took on a different +complexion from that it had formerly borne; that, moreover, it dropped +into place and became part of a connected whole. + +[Illustration] + +He saw now why Archer could not discuss Madeleine’s letter over the +telephone, but was able to arrange in that way for the interview with +Beamish. He understood why Archer, standing at his study window, had +mentioned the call at eleven next morning. He realized that Benson’s +amendment was probably arranged by Archer on the previous evening. He +saw why the _Girondin_ had left the Lesque without her full cargo, and +why she was loading barrels at Ferriby. He knew who it was he had seen +passing in the other train as his own reached Doncaster, and he grasped +the reason for Archer’s visit to Selby. In a word, he saw he had been +hoaxed—fooled—carefully, systematically, and at every point. While he +had been congratulating himself on the completeness with which the +conspirators had been walking into his net, he had in reality been +caught in theirs. He had been like a child in their hands. They had +evidently been watching and countering his every step. + +He saw now that his tapping of the secret telephone must have been +discovered, and that his enemies had used their discovery to mislead +him. They must have recognized that Madeleine’s letter was inspired by +himself, and read his motives in making her send it. They had then used +the telephone to make him believe they were falling into his trap, +while their real plans were settled in Archer’s study. + +What those plans were he believed he now understood. There would be no +meetings in London on the following day. The meetings were designed to +bring him, Willis, to the Metropolis and keep him there. By tomorrow +the gang, convinced that discovery was imminent, would be aboard the +_Girondin_ and on the high seas. They were, as he expressed it to +himself, “doing a bunk.” + +Therefore of necessity the _Girondin_ would load barrelled oil to drive +her to some country where Scotland Yard detectives did not flourish, +and where extradition laws were of no account. Therefore she must +return light, or, he suspected, empty, as there would be no time to +unload. Moreover, a reason for this “lightness” must be given him, lest +he should notice the ship sitting high out of the water, and suspect. +And he now knew that it was really Benson that he had seen returning to +Ferriby via Goole, and that Archer was doing the same via Selby. + +He looked up the trains from Selby to Ferriby. There was only one. It +left Selby at 9.19, fifty-eight minutes after the Doncaster train +arrived there, and reached Ferriby at 10.7. It was now getting on +towards eight. He had nearly two and a half hours to make his plans. + +Though Willis was a little slow in thought he was prompt in action. +Feeling sure that Archer would indeed travel by the 7.56 to Selby, he +relaxed his watch and went to the telephone call office. There he rang +up the police station at Selby, asking for a plain-clothes man and two +constables to meet him at the train to make an arrest. Also he asked +for a fast car to be engaged to take him immediately to Ferriby. He +then called up the police in Hull, and had a long talk with the +superintendent. Finally it was arranged that a sergeant and twelve men +were to meet him on the shore at the back of the signal cabin near the +Ferriby depot, with a boat and a grappling ladder for getting aboard +the _Girondin_. This done, Willis hurried back to the platform, +reaching it just as the 7.56 came in. He watched Archer get on board, +and then himself entered another compartment. + +At Selby the quarry alighted, and passed along the platform towards the +booking-office. Willis’s police training instantly revealed to him the +plain-clothes man, and him he instructed to follow Archer and learn to +what station he booked. In a few moments the man returned to say it was +Ferriby. Then calling up the two constables, the four officers followed +the distiller into the first-class waiting room, where he had taken +cover. Willis walked up to him. + +“Archibald Charles Archer,” he said impressively, “I am Inspector +Willis of Scotland Yard. I have a warrant for your arrest on a charge +of murdering Francis Coburn in a cab in London on September 12 last. I +have to warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence.” + +For a moment the distiller seemed so overwhelmed with surprise as to be +incapable of movement, and before he could pull himself together there +was a click, and handcuffs gleamed on his wrists. Then his eyes blazed, +and with the inarticulate roar of a wild beast he flung himself wildly +on Willis, and, manacled as he was, attempted to seize his throat. But +the struggle was brief. In a moment the three other men had torn him +off, and he stood glaring at his adversary, and uttering savage curses. + +“You look after him, sergeant,” Willis directed a little breathlessly, +as he tried to straighten the remnants of his tie. “I must go on to +Ferriby.” + +A powerful car was waiting outside the station, and Willis, jumping in, +offered the driver an extra pound if he was at Ferriby within fifty +minutes. He reckoned the distance was about twenty-five miles, and he +thought he should maintain at average of thirty miles an hour. + +The night was intensely dark as the big vehicle swung out of Selby, +eastward bound. A slight wind blew in from the east, bearing a damp, +searching cold, more trying than frost. Willis, who had left his coat +in the London train, shivered as he drew the one rug the vehicle +contained up round his shoulders. + +The road to Howden was broad and smooth, and the car made fine going. +But at Howden the main road turned north, and speed on the +comparatively inferior cross roads to Ferriby had to be reduced. But +Willis was not dissatisfied with their progress when at 9.38, +fifty-four minutes after leaving Selby, they pulled up in the Ferriby +lane, not far from the distillery and opposite the railway signal +cabin. + +Having arranged with the driver to run up to the main road, wait there +until he heard four blasts on the _Girondin’s_ horn, and then make for +the syndicate’s depot, the inspector dismounted, and forcing his way +through the railway fence, crossed the rails and descended the low +embankment on the river side. A moment later, just as he reached the +shore, the form of a man loomed up dimly through the darkness. + +“Who is there?” asked Willis softly. + +“Constable Jones, sir,” the figure answered. “Is that Inspector Willis? +Sergeant Hobbs is here with the boats.” + +Willis followed the other for fifty yards along the beach, until they +came on two boats, each containing half a dozen policemen. It was still +very dark; and the wind blew cold and raw. The silence was broken only +by the lapping of the waves on the shingle. Willis felt that the night +was ideal for his purpose. There was enough noise from wind and water +to muffle any sounds that the men might make in getting aboard the +_Girondin_, but not enough to prevent him overhearing any conversation +which might be in progress. + +“We have just got here this minute, sir,” the sergeant said. “I hope we +haven’t kept you waiting.” + +“Just arrived myself,” Willis returned. “You have twelve picked men?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Armed?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Good. I need not remind you all not to fire except as a last resort. +What arrangements have you made for boarding?” + +“We have a ladder with hooks at the top for catching on the taffrail.” + +“Your oars muffled?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Very well. Now listen, and see that you are clear about what you are +to do. When we reach the ship get your ladder into position, and I’ll +go up. You and the men follow. Keep beside me, sergeant. We’ll overhear +what we can. When I give the signal, rush in and arrest the whole gang. +Do you follow?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then let us get under way.” + +They pushed off, passing like phantoms over the dark water. The ship +carried a riding light, to which they steered. She was lying, Willis +knew, bow upstream. The tide was flowing, and when they were close by +they ceased rowing and drifted down on to her stern. There the leading +boat dropped in beneath her counter, and the bowman made the painter +fast to her rudder post. The second boat’s painter was attached to the +stern of the first, and the current swung both alongside. The men, +fending off, allowed their craft to come into place without sound. The +ladder was raised and hooked on, and Willis, climbing up, stealthily +raised his head above the taffrail. + +The port side of the ship was, as on previous occasions, in complete +darkness, and Willis jerked the ladder as a signal to the others to +follow him. In a few seconds the fourteen men stood like shadows on the +lower deck. Then Willis, tiptoeing forward, began to climb the ladder +to the bridge deck, just as Hilliard had done some four months earlier. +As on that occasion, the starboard side of the ship, next the wharf, +was dimly lighted up. A light also showed in the window of the +captain’s cabin, from which issued the sound of voices. + +Willis posted his men in two groups at either end of the cabin, so that +at a given signal they could rush round in opposite directions and +reach the door. Then he and the sergeant crept forward and put their +ears to the window. + +This time, though the glass was hooked back as before, the curtain was +pulled fully across the opening, so that the men could see nothing and +only partially hear what was said. Willis therefore reached in and very +gradually pulled it a little aside. Fortunately no one noticed the +movement, and the talk continued uninterruptedly. + +The inspector could now see in. Five men were squeezed round the tiny +table. Beamish and Bulla sat along one side, directly facing him. At +the end was Fox. The remaining two had their backs to the window, and +were, the inspector believed, Raymond and Henri. Before each man was a +long tumbler of whisky and soda, and a box of cigars lay on the table. +All seemed nervous and excited, indeed as if under an intolerable +strain, and kept fidgeting and looking at their watches. Conversation +was evidently maintained with an effort, as a thing necessary to keep +them from a complete breakdown. Raymond was speaking: + +“And you saw him come out?” he was asking. + +“Yes,” Fox answered. “He came out sort of stealthy and looked around. I +didn’t know who it was then, but I knew no one had any business in the +cottage at that hour, so I followed him to Ferriby station. I saw his +face by the lamps there.” + +“And you knew him?” + +“No, but I recognized him as having been around with that Excise +inspector, and I guessed he was on to something.” + +“_Oui, oui_. Yes?” the Frenchman interrogated. + +“Well, naturally I told the chief. He knew who it was.” + +“_Bien!_ There is not—how do you say?—flies on Archer, _n’est-ce pas?_ +And then?” + +“The chief guessed who it was from the captain’s description.” + +Fox nodded his head at Beamish. “You met him, eh, captain?” + +“He stood me a drink,” the big man answered, “but what he did it for I +don’t know.” + +“But how did he get wise to the telephone?” Bulla rumbled. + +“Can’t find out,” Fox replied, “but it showed he was wise to the whole +affair. Then there was that letter from Miss Coburn. That gave the show +away, because there could have been no papers like she said, and she +couldn’t have discovered anything then that she hadn’t known at the +clearing. Archer put Morton on to it, and he found that this Willis +went down to Eastbourne one night about two days before the letter +came. So that was that. Then he had me watch for him going to the +telephone, and he has fooled him about proper. I guess he’s in London +now, arranging to arrest us all tomorrow.” + +Bulla chuckled fatly. + +“As you say,” he nodded at Raymond, “there ain’t no flies on Archer, +what?” + +“I’ve always thought a lot of Archer,” Beamish remarked, “but I never +thought so much of him as that night we drew lots for who should put +Coburn out of the way. When he drew the long taper he never as much as +turned a hair. That’s the last time we had a full meeting, and we never +reckoned that this would be the next.” + +At this moment a train passed going towards Hull. + +“There’s his train,” Fox cried. “He should be here soon.” + +“How long does it take to get from the station?” Raymond inquired. + +“About fifteen minutes,” Captain Beamish answered. “We’re time enough +making a move.” + +The men showed more and more nervousness, but the talk dragged on for +some quarter of an hour. Suddenly from the wharf sounded the +approaching footsteps of a running man. He crossed the gangway and +raced up the ladder to the captain’s cabin. The others sprang to their +feet as the door opened and Benson appeared. + +“He hasn’t come!” he cried excitedly. “I watched at the station and he +didn’t get out!” + +Consternation showed on every face, and Beamish swore bitterly. There +was a variety of comments and conjectures. + +“There’s no other train?” + +“Only the express. It doesn’t stop here, but it stops at Hassle on +notice to the guard.” + +“He may have missed the connection at Selby,” Fox suggested. “In that +case he would motor.” + +Beamish spoke authoritatively. + +“I wish, Benson, you would go and ring up the Central and see if there +has been any message.” + +Willis whispered to the sergeant, who, beckoning to two of his men, +crept hurriedly down the port ladder to the lower deck. In a moment +Benson followed down the starboard or lighted side. Willis listened +breathlessly above, heard what he was expecting—a sudden scuffle, a +muffled cry, a faint click, and then silence. He peeped through the +porthole. Fox was expounding his theory about the railway connections, +and none of those within had heard the sounds. Presently the sergeant +returned with his men. + +“Trussed him up to the davit pole,” he breathed in the inspector’s ear. +“_He_ won’t give no trouble.” + +Willis nodded contentedly. That was one out of the way out of six, and +he had fourteen on his side. + +Meanwhile the men in the cabin continued anxiously discussing their +leader’s absence, until after a few minutes Beamish swore irritably. + +“Curse that fool Benson,” he growled. “What the blazes is keeping him +all this time? I had better go and hurry him up. If they’ve got hold of +Archer, it’s time we were out of this.” + +Willis’s hand closed on the sergeant’s arm. + +“Same thing again, but with three men,” he whispered. + +The four had hardly disappeared down the port ladder when Beamish left +his cabin and began to descend the starboard. Willis felt that the +crisis was upon him. He whispered to the remaining constables, who +closed in round the cabin door, then grasped his revolver, and stood +tense. + +Suddenly a wild commotion arose on the lower deck. There was a warning +shout from Beamish, instantly muffled, a tramp of feet, a pistol shot, +and sounds of a violent struggle. + +For a moment there was silence in the cabin, the men gazing at each +other with consternation on their faces. Then Bulla yelled: “Copped, by +heck!” and with an agility hardly credible in a man of his years, +whipped out a revolver, and sprang out of the cabin. Instantly he was +seized by three constables, and the four went swinging and lurching +across the deck, Bulla fighting desperately to turn his weapon on his +assailants. At the same moment Willis leaped to the door, and with his +automatic levelled, shouted, “Hands up, all of you! You are covered +from every quarter!” + +Henri and Fox, who were next the door, obeyed as if in a stupor, but +Raymond’s hand flew out, and a bullet whistled past the inspector’s +head. Instantly Willis fired, and with a scream the Frenchman staggered +back. + +It was the work of a few seconds for the remaining constables to dash +in under the inspector’s pistol and handcuff the two men in the cabin, +and Willis then turned to see how the contests on deck were faring. But +these also were over. Both Beamish and Bulla, borne down by the weight +of numbers, had been secured. + +The inspector next turned to examine Raymond. His shot had been well +aimed. The bullet had entered the base of the man’s right thumb, and +passed out through his wrist. His life was not in danger, but it would +be many a long day before he would again fire a revolver. + +Four blasts on the _Girondin’s_ horn recalled Willis’s car, and when, +some three hours later, the last batch of prisoners was safely lodged +in the Hull police station, Willis began to feel that the end of his +labors was at last coming in sight. + +The arrests supplied the inspector with fresh material on which to +work. As a result of his careful investigation of the movements of the +prisoners during the previous three years, the entire history of the +Pit-Prop Syndicate was unravelled, as well as the details of Coburn’s +murder. + +It seemed that the original idea of the fraud was Raymond’s. He looked +round for a likely English partner, selected Archer, broached the +subject to him, and found him willing to go in. Soon, from his +dominating personality, Archer became the leader. Details were worked +out, and the necessary confederates carefully chosen. Beamish and Bulla +went in as partners, the four being bound together by their joint +liability. The other three members were tools over whom the quartet had +obtained some hold. In Coburn’s case, Archer learned of the +defalcations in time to make the erring cashier his victim. He met the +deficit in return for a signed confession of guilt and an I O U for a +sum that would have enabled the distiller to sell the other up, and +ruin his home and his future. + +An incompletely erased address in a pocket diary belonging to Beamish +led Willis to a small shop on the south side of London, where he +discovered an assistant who had sold a square of black serge to two +men, about the time of Coburn’s murder. The salesman remembered the +transaction because his customers had been unable to describe what they +wanted otherwise than by the word “cloth,” which was not the technical +name for any of his commodities. The fabric found in the cab was +identical to that on the roll this man stated he had used; moreover, he +identified Beamish and Bulla as the purchasers. + +Willis had a routine search made of the restaurants of Soho, and at +last found that in which the conspirators had held their meetings +previous to the murder. There had been two. At the first, so Willis +learned from the description given by the proprietor, Coburn had been +present, but not at the second. + +In spite of all his efforts he was unable to find the shop at which the +pistol had been bought, but he suspected the transaction had been +carried out by one of the other members of the gang, in order as far as +possible to share the responsibility for the crime. + +On the _Girondin_ was found the false bulkhead in Bulla’s cabin, behind +which was placed the hidden brandy tank. The connection for the shore +pipe was concealed behind the back of the engineer’s wash-hand basin, +which moved forward by means of a secret spring. + +On the _Girondin_ was also found something over £700,000, mostly in +Brazilian notes, and Benson admitted later that the plan had been to +scuttle the _Girondin_ off the coast of Bahia, take to the boats and +row ashore at night, remaining in Brazil at least till the hue and cry +had died down. But instead all seven men received heavy sentences. +Archer paid for his crimes with his life, the others got terms of from +ten to fifteen years each. The managers of the licensed houses in Hull +were believed to have been in ignorance of the larger fraud, and to +have dealt privately and individually with Archer, and they and their +accomplices escaped with lighter penalties. + +The mysterious Morton proved to be a private detective, employed by +Archer. He swore positively that he had no knowledge of the real nature +of the syndicate’s operations, and though the judge’s strictures on his +conduct were severe, no evidence could be found against him, and he was +not brought to trial. + +Inspector Willis got his desired promotion out of the case, and there +was someone else who got more. About a month after the trial, in the +Holy Trinity Church, Eastbourne, a wedding was solemnized—Seymour +Merriman and Madeleine Coburn were united in the holy bonds of +matrimony. And Hilliard, assisting as best man, could not refrain from +whispering in his friend’s ear as they turned to leave the vestry, +“Three cheers for the Pit-Prop Syndicate!” + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIT-PROP SYNDICATE *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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