He was standing beside an alley, less than a hundred yards from The Beau Sejour. His eyes were upon the road along which the Rolls would have come.
As I approached, he saw me…
And then we were both in the alley, and Mansel was lounging on the opposite side of the street.
“Drove into the yard, sir,” said Rowley, “just fifty minutes ago. I knew it was him the moment I saw his face. But he never saw me or the Lowland – our luck was in. She was out in the yard – I’d just washed her: but, just before he drove in, the hotel bus comes back from meeting the early train. She’s a clumsy brute, that bus, an’ ’er driver was backing her round. An’ he got between me an’ Gedge. If Gedge had let him go on, he couldn’t have helped but see me, but, though there was plenty of room, he shouts to the fellow to stop until he’s got in. And so we were saved.
“I watched him out of the yard. Then I slipped in the back way, to go an’ warn Miss Lelong. But there ain’t no back stairs, sir, and Gedge was fast in the lounge, with his eyes all over the place. I didn’t dare go by him – there weren’t enough people about. So I prayed she’d stay in her room and ran back to the yard. I had to get out to warn you, but I thought, if I could, I must get the Lowland away. So I started her engine up. Then I left her ticking over and walked to the end of the archway, just in case…” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Upon my soul, sir, you’d think he knew we was here. There he was in the window, beside the door. For ten solid minutes I watched him – of course he couldn’t see me. Then a waiter arrives with a drink and a pile of sandwiches; an’ down he sits in a chair and begins to eat, always with his eyes on the archway…
“Well, I put the Lowland away. Then I wrote a note in pencil to Miss Lelong an’ told a servant to take it up to her room. ‘Don’t leave your room, miss,’ I said. ‘There’s somebody here.’ An’ then, by the grace of heaven, a van comes into the yard. Delivering ice. The fellow was all alone, so I gave him a hand; and when he was through, he lifted me out of the yard and into the street.
“And there we are, sir. It’s only the Lowland now: but if he looks round that garage – well, there she is.”
I was just going to make him some answer, when Mansel put a hand in his pocket and turned to his right.
“Fade,” I breathed, and whipped to the nearest doorway, six feet away.
With my eyes on the street I waited. Rowley was adjusting a shoelace, quite six paces off.
Punter passed the mouth of the alley, strolling along the pavement towards The Beau Sejour.
It occurred to me that Gedge was waiting for Punter. Not that the two would meet, but at certain times, no doubt, the subordinate had to report. This he did by passing the archway, for Gedge, from where he was, could just see into the street.
As Mansel strolled back into view –
“That was Punter,” I said.
“I know, sir,” said Rowley, grimly. “We ought to have put him away ten years ago.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” said I. “And now you go over and take Captain Mansel’s place. One moment. Except by the archway, there’s no way into that yard?”
“No way at all, sir.”
Two minutes later Mansel strolled into the alley and took my arm.
“Tell me the worst,” he said.
“I will,” said I, and told him Rowley’s tale.
As I made an end –
“The trouble is,” I said, “that no one can watch the swine. We can’t even watch that window, except from the yard. For all we know, he may have gone to his room, and it may be perfectly safe to take the Lowland away. But until we can enter that yard, we can’t be sure.”
“And we’ve got to be sure,” said Mansel. “The fellow’s instinct is working. That’s why he sticks to that window. He has been warned.”
Now, had the day been a weekday, there would have been plenty of traffic between the street and the yard – delivery vans and lorries and stuff like that: but, because it was Sunday, a full half-hour went by and only one car turned in.
At a quarter to twelve –
“I assume,” said I, “I assume that he’ll go to lunch.”
“He may or may not,” said Mansel. “He may have more sandwiches there. I don’t think that very likely: but I doubt if he’ll go to lunch before half-past twelve.”
Both hands were in Rowley’s pockets and he had turned to the left…
From halfway down a basement, I watched the alley’s mouth – and saw Gedge saunter by, with his hat tipped over his eyes.
In a flash I was at the corner which the alley made with the street. Then I took a deep breath and looked round.
Gedge was walking straight on, with crossroads ahead. Rowley was twenty yards on, on the opposite side of the way.
I let Gedge reach the crossroads. Then I turned out of the alley and walked to The Beau Sejour.
Not daring to glance behind me, I darted under the archway and into the cobbled yard.
A moment later, the engine of the Lowland was running, for Mansel and I had always a key of each of the cars.
And then I was out in the yard…
Another car entered the archway. There was but room for one, and I had to wait until it had entered the yard. And then my way was clear. But I had to turn to the right before I could turn to the left, for here a very long ‘refuge’ divided the street into two. And, as I turned to the right, I saw Gedge coming towards me, some twenty-five paces away.
I saw the man start and slow down. Then he turned to look into some window, as though he hoped not to be seen.
And the gesture gave me my cue.
With her tail just clear of the archway, I stopped the car and got out. Then I walked into the hotel.
I laid a hundred francs on the porter’s desk.
“Send for the luggage,” I said, “from Rooms No. 71 and 72.”
“Monsieur is leaving?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve got to get on to Dieppe. My bill in five minutes, please. I’ll pay you as I go out.”
“Certainly, sir.”
I made for the stairs and walked up to Mona’s room.
Mercifully, she was dressed.
“Listen,” I said. “Gedge is below. He’s staying in this hotel. He has seen me and the Lowland, but no one else. In a minute or two he is going to see you and me…to watch us get into the Lowland and leave Vendôme for Dieppe. And I think he will follow us…to make quite sure that Dieppe
is
our destination. He’ll probably be in the lounge, as we go by. But don’t you see him, Mona. It’s got to be his day out. And now you’ve one minute to pack. A boy’s coming up for our things.”
I entered my room and thrust my stuff into my case. As I pressed the hasps into place, a knock fell on the door.
Thirty seconds later, Mona Lelong and I were descending the stairs.
Gedge was stooping in the shadows – I saw him with the tail of my eye.
I paid our bill and tipped the porter again.
“Monsieur is crossing tonight?”
“Madame is,” said I. “I’ve got to get back to Pau.”
With that, I followed Mona out to the car.
I dared not glance at the alley, as we went by, but I lifted a finger to Mansel, to tell him to stay where he was.
Three minutes later, the Lowland was clear of Vendôme and was heading for Chartres.
“And now, please,” said Mona.
“First, move the mirror,” I said, “so that you can watch the road.” She did as I said. “Now keep your eyes on that, while I tell you my tale. He’ll be using a dark-blue Whistler, but please report any car that seems to be hanging on.”
I told all there was to tell: but just before I had finished, she interrupted me.
“There’s a dark-blue car behind. I can’t see the make.”
“Is it coming up?”
“Not very fast.”
“Light a cigarette,” I said.
After a minute or two –
“It’s still coming up,” said Mona.
“When it’s less than a hundred yards, put out your arm and shake the ash from your cigarette.”
This she did.
A quarter of a minute later –
“He’s falling back,” she said.
“It’s Gedge all right,” said I. “He had to be sure it was us, and your good-looking scarlet sleeve has said that it is.”
“Go on with your tale. I’ll watch.”
“There isn’t much more to tell. For some extraordinary reason it had never entered my head that, if we appeared to Gedge, he would try to avoid being seen. I had thought that he’d lose control – that he might even shoot. But the moment I saw that he’d seen me
and turned away
, I knew that we had a chance of saving the game. That I should ship you to England is a perfectly natural thing: that being so, it is also perfectly natural that we should stay at Vendôme – and take it easy today, for Dieppe is not very far and you won’t go aboard before ten. So I threw the fly…
“How far he will follow us, I neither know nor care: but by the time he gets back, Mansel will have talked to the porter and wiped his memory clean. If, on his return, Gedge asks questions, he will be told that no one but you and I arrived very late last night at The Beau Sejour.”
With her eyes on the driving mirror –
“It’s him all right,” said Mona. “He’s always there.”
“Good,” said I. “We’ll lunch at The Grand Monarque and take our time; and he can wait outside in the Place des Epars.”
“I should think you’re the only man who has ever bluffed Daniel Gedge.”
“Rot,” said I. “Besides, he was badly placed. He is on the edge of committing a highly profitable crime. If we are upon his track, he’s got to abandon that crime. When he saw me, he feared that we were upon his track.
But he hoped so much that we weren’t that he wasn’t sure. He should
have been sure, of course. He
would
have been sure – if he hadn’t cared about losing some ten or twelve thousand pounds. Wishful thinking has warped his judgment. And when I threw my fly, I encouraged the wishful thought.”
“It was damned quick of you, anyway. When I got Rowley’s note, I felt weak at the knees.”
“I’d had my shock,” said I. “When he said where he was staying, it took a year from my life.”
“Why did he leave the hotel and then come back?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Instinct, perhaps. Mansel says his is working, and Mansel is usually right.”
“How far will he come?” said Mona.
“God knows,” I said. “Say Rouen.”
“Supposing,” said Mona,” he follows us into Dieppe?”
“If he does,” said I, “you’ll have to take the boat. I’m sorry, my dear, but you see it’s the only way.”
“I shall come straight back,” said Mona. “I will be in at the death.”
“All right,” I said. “But it hardly seems worthwhile – unless, of course, you want to revisit Arx.”
“I’m through with Arx. I don’t want to see it again.”
“Then, if you have to sail, why don’t you stay? I mean, it might help us, Mona. We’ll have to fade out, you know, when we’ve put Gedge and Brevet down.”
“I know how to fade out,” said Mona. “And I may have my uses – you never know.”
We ran into Chartres at exactly a quarter-past one, and there we lunched in style at The Grand Monarque. The Whistler waited for us – on the other side of the place.
I hope Gedge enjoyed his vigil, which lasted for nearly two hours – we had plenty of time. Then we visited the cathedral – as much to twist his tail as anything else. We took the road to Rouen at four o’clock.
I had hoped he would leave us at Rouen: but as we gained the country which lies beyond –
“He means to see us,” said Mona. “He’s coming on.”
Now I must most frankly confess that, had I been placed as was Gedge, I should have done the same. His plans were made and he had nothing to do. Why not, therefore, make certain that he was not being misled? For all that, his persistence annoyed me, for I was tired of the game. I did not mind dining at Dieppe: but I did not want all the fuss of seeing Mona on board, of hanging about on the dirty, ill-lit quays…
And there for the first time I saw why Gedge was intending to follow us into Dieppe. He meant, when Mona was gone, to take my life.
Once seen, the thing stood out.
Night, the deserted quays and the empty sheds…
A shot in the darkness, a spurt up a narrow street, and a stroll up the front… A couple of drinks at the bar of some hotel, and then the Whistler again and the open road.
Had I not known he was there, it would have been too easy. Even though I knew he was there, it might not be very hard.
“What do you know?” said Mona.
“I wish,” said I, “you’d keep your eyes on that glass.”
I cannot pretend I enjoyed the excellent dinner we ate: for I wanted to be alone, to lay my plans. So far from being alone, I had to play up to Mona with all my might, for, had she perceived what I had, she would not have gone aboard.
I had started the game, and I had to play it out. By the rules of that game, Gedge must observe me, but I must not observe Gedge. Now, if I broke those rules, I should lose the game: but if I kept those rules, I might very well lose my life.
Gedge would watch me take Mona on to the ship: and then he would watch me come off, to walk back to the car: and I should not know where he was – I knew the place very well, and the darkness and shadows could hide a hundred men.
I could not think what to do; and I presently gave up trying, for Mona was looking at me, as though she suspected that something was on my mind.
After dinner we sat in the bar, until it was nearly ten: and then we strolled out to the Lowland, to drive to the quay.
The weather was very fine, and Dieppe was gay. Quite a hundred cars were in waiting, on the road that was running between the hotels and the sea.
As we came to the Lowland, Mona spoke very low.
“The Whistler is twelve cars off.”
Gedge must have been in the Whistler, waiting for us to appear; for, as we swept up the road, Mona saw him coming and told me so.
“He’s taking no risks,” I said grimly. “He means to see you aboard.”
At last we turned to the right and took a side street to the quays.
The front had been well lighted, but, as I had expected, a man who was roaming the quays could have done with a torch. Very few lights were burning, and these were far between.
I had asked where the boat would be berthed, and I very soon saw where she was.
“Is he coming?” I said.
“I’m not sure. Yes, there he is. He’s using his parking lights.”
The street, the sheds and the quay made three long parallel lines. I could have passed on to the quay between two sheds. Instead, I ran the length of the street, rounded the last of the sheds and then passed on to the quay. So the Lowland was facing the way we had come. There were only two lamps burning in more than a hundred yards. I stopped midway between them. At least the darkness should serve me – as well as Gedge. It was the best I could do.
I switched off the engine and lights. Then I took the key from the switch and we left the car.
I took Mona’s ticket at the office, which was right at the end of the sheds. Then I picked up her suitcase and led the way to the boat.
“He’s stopped in the street,” breathed Mona: “and turned the Whistler round.”
“Where exactly?” I asked.
“A long way down. Not very far from the street that leads to the front.”
I nodded.
That would do. Once Gedge had gained the Whistler, he could be clear of Dieppe in less than three minutes of time.
The gangway to the steamer was lighted – I have no doubt that the fellow watched us take it, to gain the deck. To secure a cabin was simple…
Mona sat down on the bed and looked at me.
“We do get about, don’t we? Yesterday Chartres: today Dieppe; and tomorrow The Fountain at Blois.”
“Cut out The Fountain at Blois and make it the Berkeley Grill, say, this day week.”
Mona shook her head.
“Tomorrow night,” she said, “I shall sleep at The Fountain at Blois.”
“As you will,” I sighed. “I can’t keep you away.”
“I’ve been very – dutiful, Richard.”
“Yes, you have,” I said warmly. “You’ve watched that swine behind us for nearly two hundred miles and you’re suffering great inconvenience to save our game. I’ll never forget it, Mona. I don’t know another girl who wouldn’t have kicked.”
“What about Jenny?”
“I…except Jenny,” I said.
“Well, I don’t,” said Mona. “Jenny would never have left you –
with Gedge on the quay
.”
I sat very still, and presently Mona went on.
“Did you think that I would leave you…and sit here and wait for the shot?”
I put a hand to my head.
“Mona, I beg you–”
“I’ve done my bit,” said the girl. “I’ve saved your game. He’s seen me on to the ship – but I’m damned if I’ll sail.”
“We’ll settle that later,” said I. “And now let me think.”
It was an immense relief to be able to concentrate.
I had so berthed the Lowland that Gedge would be unable to watch both her and the ship. He would have to choose between them: and, once he had seen us aboard, I had no doubt at all that he would choose the car. He would find the car and then he would pick his position: and then he would wait for the sheep to come and be killed.
He certainly held a good hand – a very much better hand than he had held by a lighthouse three weeks ago: but I had one valuable card, for I knew that he was there, yet he did not know that I knew.
And then I saw very clearly the first of the steps I must take.
Before I did anything else, I must locate Gedge.
Now if my judgment was good and Gedge was watching the car, I should be able to leave the ship unobserved. Then I must take to the shadows and make my way – not, indeed, to the car, but to her vicinity. And there I must wait and watch, till Gedge, by some sound or movement, declared where he was.
(Here, perhaps, I should say that I had plenty of time, for the ship would not sail till twelve, when the train had come in. And, for all Gedge knew, I might stay aboard until then.)
Now though I tried very hard to see what next I must do, my efforts were vain; and I had to make up my mind that once I had taken the first step, I should be able to see what my second must be.
I turned to Mona and told her what I proposed.
“But I think you must see,” I said, “that you cannot be on in this scene. For one thing only, my shoes are soled with rubber, and I shall make no sound. If you decline to sail, you must leave the ship: but you must not approach the Lowland, because, if you do, you may tear the whole thing up.”
Mona took my hand and led it down to her foot.
She was wearing rubber-soled shoes.
“And don’t be afraid,” she said, “that I shall tear anything up. We won’t leave the steamer together, for that would be – well, unwise. I shall give you three minutes’ law, and then I shall start. So tell me which way you’re going.”
I knew that to argue was hopeless, and time was going by.
“There’s a crane,” I said, “on rails about twenty paces ahead of the bows of the ship. Then comes a row of trucks rather nearer the sheds. And then there’s another crane. The second crane is just this side of the Lowland.
“I shall make for the second crane. I don’t think Gedge will be there. I think he will be by the sheds, for the sheds make very good cover between the two cars.”
Mona Lelong nodded.
“All right. Don’t fear I shall cramp your style. But I’ve got to be there, Richard; for this is down Gedge’s street, and I may be of use.”
I stood up and took her hand and put it up to my lips.
“You’re a damned brave girl,” I said.
Then I left the cabin and made for the upper deck.
I have said that the gangway was lighted: but the light did not spread very far. As I approached the ramp, I saw two men at its foot and another one halfway up. The two were pressing the third to turn and ‘come back’ with them. As he decided to do so, I followed him down to the quay and, moving behind the three, passed out of what light there was. Then I turned to my right and stepped to the crane.
If Gedge had been watching, he would have seen me beneath the gangway light: but, because of the figures before me, he must have lost me again, as soon as I reached the quay. But I hoped that he had not been watching: for, if he had, when two or three minutes had passed, but I failed to return to the car, his ever-ready suspicions would be aroused.
For a minute or two I stayed beside the crane, for I wished to accustom my eyes to the darkness in which I must move. Then I passed from the crane to the line of motionless trucks.
I now had excellent cover – if Gedge was close to the sheds. But I moved very carefully, stooping low when I passed the couplings and continually straining my ears.
Now the last of the line of trucks was rather nearer the Lowland than I had thought. Crouching close to its end, I could see her familiar shape some twenty paces away.
I had left her, it may be remembered, roughly midway between two electric lamps. These lamps were held by brackets, fixed to the wall of a shed. I had passed the first some way back, but, though it was not powerful, it did diminish the darkness between the last truck and the car.
Surveying these twenty paces, I sought for any cover which Gedge could use. There was the shed’s big doorway; but this was shut. I was sure that he was not standing against a jamb. There was a bin for refuse, but that was too slight. Search as I would, I could see no cover at all. He might, of course, be waiting beyond the car: but that I thought unlikely, and I could remember nothing which might have helped him there. He might be crouching beside the car itself: but I felt that he was this side – that he meant to let me go by and then fall in behind me, before he fired.