With my hand on the door–
“By God, Bell, I’m glad to see you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Bell. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Are you all right?” said Jenny. “Your eyes look tired.”
“Quite all right, thank you, Madam.”
“Before you report,” said Mansel, “d’you think that we can wait here?”
“I think, sir,” said Bell, “that the cars should be off the road.”
It was easy to find a track which ran into a wood; and there, some five minutes later, Bell told his tale.
“I was out pretty quick, sir, but not, I’m afraid, quick enough. Five miles from Freilles I noticed a Lowland behind. I was slipping along then, so I lifted my foot a little, to see if he’d like to go by. But he only came a bit closer, before lifting his. That looked very much as though he was after me: but I couldn’t be sure, so I gave him another test. Just short of Bayonne, I turned last, as you said – and so did he. Well, that might only have meant that he wasn’t bound for Bayonne: so I took the next turning south, whipped into and out of the town and up to where I’d turned east five minutes before. Then I looked in the mirror again, and there he was. Well, that left no doubt at all – the only thing to do was to shake him off.” He paused there, and a hand went up to his head. “That Lowland can shift, sir, and it isn’t the first time the driver has trailed a car. Do what I would, I couldn’t get away from the man. I doubled in Peyrehorade and I tried to lose him in Orthez – in fact, I thought I had lost him; but when I was clear of the town, there he was on my tail. I had to go right into Pau, to shake him off. I knew Pau, but he didn’t; and after a minute or two, I’d tied him up.”
“Well done, indeed,” said Mansel. He glanced at his wrist. “Have we got any food in the car?”
“Chicken and beef,” said Jenny, “and bread and butter and eggs. Is that right, Bell?”
“And cheese and beer, Madam; and water for you.”
“Good for you, Jenny,” said Mansel.
“Bell’s idea,” said Jenny. “He said it seemed a pity to leave so much behind.”
“Well, let’s eat now,” said Mansel. “Bell’s pretty tired, and we shan’t get in till late.”
We broke our fast there and then, while the dusk came in; and not until after nine did we take the road.
As we ran into Bergerac, I heard some clock tell the time. A quarter-past twelve.
The Lion of Gold has a garden, very old and peaceful, and sheltered by nine-foot walls. Jenny was still asleep, but Mansel and I were breakfasting under the limes.
“The thing is this,” said Mansel. “I don’t have to tell you that I am not running away: but I do not want them to find me where I do not want to be found. Find me they will – before long: and if they don’t, I shall find them. Gedge has got to be dealt with, because he is out for blood. I can go back to England – he won’t come there. But I’m not prepared to give the Continent up, and I’ve no desire whatever to be bumped off in Paris in two years’ time.”
“Do you put it as high as that?”
“Yes,” said Mansel, “I do. Twice I’ve hit Gedge damned hard, and Gedge is no ordinary man. He’ll never rest till he gets me, or I get him. Brevet was telling the truth, when he said he was in the slips. And Gedge will stick at nothing – to gain his heart’s desire.” He paused, to refill his cup. “Will you take Jenny back to England?”
“No, I won’t,” said I. “Jenny must go to Anise. John Bagot and Audrey are there, and they will look after her.”
(John Bagot and Audrey Nuneham had been our guests at Freilles: and now they were married and had gone to stay at Anise. Anise was a tiny village, seventy miles from Bordeaux, and terribly hard to discover, unless you knew where it lay.)
“Very well,” said Mansel. “We’ll take her there this morning and stay to lunch.”
When I broke the news to Jenny, she bit her lip.
“I’d like to be with you,” she said. “You see, we’re all three in danger – not only Jonathan.”
“Why d’you say that, my darling?”
“I – know it, Richard.”
“All three of us?”
“Yes, Richard.”
I put my arms about her and held her close.
“This is very worrying, Jenny.”
“I know. I’m dreadfully sorry. I don’t want to cramp your style.”
“I tell you what,” I said, “I’ll leave you at Anise with Bell. If after twenty-four hours, you still know that you are in danger, then Bell shall bring you to me wherever I am. But, if at the end of that time you know that the danger is past, then you must let Bell go and stay with Audrey and John.”
Jenny nodded her head. Then she threw her arms round my neck and burst into tears…
To say that I was concerned means nothing at all. Jenny had spent her girlhood at Nature’s knee. Birds and beasts were the only friends she had, and meadows, mountains and forests were all the world she knew. Now Jenny’s understanding was very quick: and she had learned of Nature much of her lovely lore. With her, the most shy animals were at their ease; birds would come at her call; things that would grow for no gardener grew for her; and of the poor, dumb creatures she knew so well, she had acquired that instinct of which I have spoken before. And though I dare say that the pundits would laugh it to scorn, I had seen it at work too often not to accord it a very deep regard. And now that faculty warned me that she was in danger, too. And Jenny was all that I had…far more than I deserved – but all that I had.
We ran into Anise a little before midday – to the very great surprise of John and Audrey Bagot, for, after all, they were on their honeymoon. Still, I honestly think that they were glad to see us, and, after all, they were no ordinary friends. Being such, they at once agreed to play their part, that is to say, to keep Jenny as safe as a jewel in its drawer; and they actually wrote out a wire, to send to their man, summoning him to Anise, for he knew Punter by sight and could stand by the side of John Bagot, if trouble came. But, though this was reassuring, I was not reassured. Jenny was happy and smiling, as though the word ‘apprehension’ was one that she did not know: but then she had a great heart and was in all things a most obedient wife; and I found it hard to believe that forty odd miles had put to rout the danger in which she stood.
It was about half-past three that I bade her goodbye and took my seat beside Mansel, with Carson behind. Our plan was, so to speak, fluid, depending on what we found. But we hoped to locate the rogues and, having done that, to let one of their number see us and see the way we took. If we could do this, we could draw them on to the ground upon which we proposed to meet them and have things out; “for we can’t have a scandal,” said Mansel, “and so we must do our stuff in the countryside.” Since Bell had ‘lost’ them in Pau, that was the region for which we proposed to make; and, with or without Jenny, Bell was to meet us by Orthez the following night.
We had covered some ninety miles and had spoken hardly a word, when I came to a sudden decision and touched Mansel on the arm.
“Yes, William?”
“Please go back to Anise,” was all I said.
Mansel looked at me sharply.
Then, seeing a turning ahead, he set a foot on the brake…
A moment later we were flying the way we had come.
Anise was no more than a hamlet, but it boasted a fine, old inn, with an archway which would have accepted a coach and four: this gave to a cobbled yard, on one side of which was a coach house, now used for cars. The most agreeable rooms were at the back of the inn: they were on the first floor and faced south, commanding a charming prospect of woods and meadows and water, in the shape of a lazy stream. Though, on three of its sides, the meadows ran up to the house, you could not enter them without passing under the archway and into the road; but this was a small price to pay for the privacy of the apartments in which, when we were at Anise, we ate and slept. They were, indeed, as secluded as Anise itself, and that was why Mansel and I had frequently stayed at the inn: I am sure that our host never talked and that many a passer-by has broken his fast at the inn and has never dreamed that he was not its only guest. Still, unless you cared to keep house, you were bound to use the highway for fifty or sixty yards: then you came to an aged gate which made you free of the meadows, the stream and the forest beyond.
When we were nearing the hamlet, I began to feel more at ease. I remember turning to Mansel and telling him so. “But I can’t say I’m sorry,” I added, “because it wouldn’t be true. What we’re to do with Jenny, I really don’t know: but I should have been useless to you, if we’d left her behind.”
“Don’t worry, William,” said Mansel. “As like as not, you’ve done us a very good turn. If your apprehension is sound, it can only mean that one or more of our friends are coming to Anise tonight. What in the world could be better? We see them; but we take care that they don’t see us – until they have left the place: we can put the cars in a meadow and lie very close ourselves. We follow and overtake them and pass them by, and then we let them chase us…on to the ground we have chosen… We’ll talk that over this evening, but there is some attractive country not far from Lannemezan.”
So we came back to Anise, at exactly a quarter-past seven, for Mansel had let the car go.
As the inn came into our view, I saw that something was wrong, and I think that my heart stood still.
A figure was lying by the archway, and beside it the hostess was kneeling, with one of her hands to her head. Then her husband came running out, with water and towels. An instant later I saw that the figure was Bell’s.
Mansel brought up the Rolls, all standing, and Carson and I leaped out…
Bell was unconscious – no worse: I judged that he had been hit on the back of the head. Sending the woman for more, I poured the cold water steadily on to his brow. Mansel was questioning the man, but I did not hear what he said. I heard Mansel speak to Carson.
“Try the rooms, Carson, and see if the cars are there.” He soused a towel in the pitcher the woman had brought, gave the pitcher to me and set the towel under Bell’s head. “The people know nothing,” he said. “They found Bell lying here a moment before we arrived. Audrey had cried out for them, but when they got here she was gone.” He turned to the host. “Another pitcher of water, and bring some ice.”
As the man ran under the archway, Carson returned.
“The rooms are empty, sir, and the Lowland’s out.”
(John and Audrey Bagot were using a Lowland car.)
I looked at Mansel.
“If he doesn’t come round in two minutes…”
“I agree,” said Mansel; “we can’t wait longer than that. Give Carson your keys, will you? He’ll start your car.”
As the landlord returned with the ice, Bell opened his eyes.
For a moment he stared upon me. Then he let out a cry and made to get up.
“Where’s Madam, sir?”
“We’ll talk in a minute,” I said. “Lie back and shut your eyes and try to concentrate. What was about to happen when you went out?”
Mansel wrapped some ice in a towel and held it across Bell’s brow, and I poured water upon the compress this made.
Bell was speaking again.
“I’ve got it straight now, sir. We were going up to the meadow, where Mr and Mrs Bagot were going to try for a trout. When they were just about ready, I went down to the yard, and as soon as I heard them coming I walked out under the archway, to see that the road was clear.” He hesitated there, and a hand went up to his head. “Wait a minute, sir… Yes, that’s right. We were going to take the Lowland. Mr Bagot had been to Jois, to buy cigarettes, and he said he’d left her outside, so that Madam could drive, an’ not walk. He’d left her across the entrance, so I couldn’t see the road without going out. Very close to the archway, he’d left her: I’d only just room to get by. I turned to pass behind her, an’ then… There was something strange, I know, just before I went out.”
“Let it go for the moment,” said I. “You can’t say where Madam was?”
“Ahead of the others, I think, sir. I heard her call out ‘Come on’. But I know there was something important – something that shook me up.” He sat up there, and the compress fell into his lap. “I’m all right now, sir. But Madam! My God, sir, don’t say they’ve – Ah! I’ve got it… As I turned to pass behind her,
I saw another Lowland ten paces away
. And
that
was Mr Bagot’s – I saw the number plate.”
He made to rise and I helped him up to his feet.
Mansel’s voice rang out.
“Bring out the car, Carson, and follow us.”
Before ten seconds had passed, Bell was sitting with Carson and I was sitting with Mansel, as I had sat before. And both cars were on the road.
I will not set out my feelings, except to say this – that, had Gedge been able to divine them, hard and black as it was, his heart would have failed him for fear. As for Brevet, had there been any question of mercy, I would have shown him less; for he had spoken with Jenny and had seen for himself that she was ingenuous.
For a moment I let my brain browse on the vengeance which I would take: then I pulled myself together and considered our present duty and how it could best be done. This was, of course, to overtake Gedge.
How the man had traced us to Anise, I could not think: but once he had brought that off, he had his reward. That the Bagots were using a standard Lowland car – a car which resembled his own in every particular – was one of those precious presents which Fortune is apt to bestow upon just and unjust alike. And Gedge had been quick to seize this valuable gift. He had seen John Bagot leave his Lowland without the inn: that meant that the car was going to be used again. At once Gedge had laid
his
Lowland across the archway’s mouth: so placed, it would seem to be Bagot’s – to anyone other than Bagot, for he alone would know where he left his car. The rest was easy. The first person down was Bell – and Gedge put him out. The second was Jenny, for whom he had laid the trap: but had Audrey or John come before her, they would have been simply silenced, for, sooner or later, Jenny was bound to come.
So much for the abduction.
There could, happily, be no doubt that Audrey or John or both had seen something of what had occurred and that they had at once given chase, without waiting to care for Bell. Since Audrey was a beautiful driver, I hoped very hard that they were on Gedge’s heels. What was less fortunate was that they could have no idea that we were coming behind and so would take no action to indicate to us the way they had gone – a scarf let fall at a turning, and things like that. All that we knew for certain was that they must have gone west; for only one road serves Anise, and we had come from the east. Still, anyone of us four could have mapped the neighbourhood for twenty or thirty miles; and that, I was sure, was more than the rogues could do.
Mansel was speaking.
“Gedge knows where he’s going, of course; but unless it’s just round the corner – and that I do not believe – he will probably use the main roads. This for three reasons; first, he can get along quicker; secondly, because of the traffic, his passage will not be remarked; thirdly, to lose his way is the last thing he wants to do. Now, if I’m right, he turned when he got to Jois: but did he turn north or south?”
“There’s a service station there, and they may know the Bagots’ car.”
“That’s right. It’s worth stopping to ask if they saw them go by. If they didn’t…”
“We go south,” said I, “and Carson and Bell go north.”
Mansel nodded.
“Communications?” he said.
“God knows. They’d better report by wire to Agen and Pau: and we to Ruffec.”
That was a poor enough plan, but Mansel could think of none better and said as much. But then we were both of us frantic – and the Rolls was moving at eighty-five miles an hour.
The village of Jois flung towards us…
As we swept to the service station, a car was pulling away from the petrol pump.
Mansel put the question.
“Five minutes ago,” came the answer. “Believe me, there is something afoot.”
“Why d’you say that?” snapped Mansel.
“Monsieur, I know the car which the lady usually drives. Myself, I have changed its oil. And I saw it come up from Anise and then turn south.”
“That’ll do,” said I.
“Have patience, Monsieur,” said the other, and Mansel set a hand on my arm. “I saw it go by very fast, but neither Monsieur nor Madame was at its wheel. ‘The car has been stolen,’ I cry, and run for the telephone. But while I am demanding the police, I hear the Englishman’s voice. And when I come out, there is the car I have seen, with Madame in the driver’s seat. ‘A car like this?’ she cries. ‘Which way did it go?’ ‘South,’ I cry. ‘I have seen it…’”