Dusk was in, when we entered this pretty pleasance, and night came down before we turned to come back. There was, I remember, no moon, and the air was still.
We were not very far from our farm, when I heard the sound of a car.
We all stood still and listened. Then –
“Behind us,” I said.
As a rule in the Pyrénées the meadows are kept by stone walls, but one of the pleasantest virtues our valley had was that the English hedgerow bordered the fields. These hedges were beautifully tended – a very rare thing in France; but now they stood against us, for the car was upon our road and we should be caught by its headlights unless we could take to the fields. And a sudden, much louder drawl declared that the car was close – it is an astonishing thing how wood and spur and hillock can baffle sound.
“Gate on the left,” said Mansel, and led the way.
We vaulted the gate with just a few seconds to spare, to see an American car go blandly by. But almost at once we heard it begin to lose speed, and then it slowed right down and stopped at our farm.
We ran down the road behind it, making no noise.
As we approached, an offside door was opened, and someone got out.
“Take the car, William,” said Mansel. “John Bagot with you.”
The car was a sportsman’s coupé that could have held four. Bent double, I passed its nearside until I was close to its door: then I lifted my head, to see that the window was down. As I was listening for a movement, I heard Mansel speaking French.
“Have you lost your way?”
There was a moment’s silence. Then –
“Who’s that?” said a girl, in English.
“I’m staying near here,” said Mansel. “If you want to get to—, I can tell you the way.”
“I don’t want to get to —. Do you happen to be Captain Mansel?”
“I do. May I ask what you want?”
“Half an hour’s talk. Where are you?”
“Please stand very still,” said Mansel, “and tell me from where you come.”
“I should think you could guess.”
“I prefer to be told.”
“From a place beginning with A.”
“I see. Please get into your car and switch on the ceiling light.”
“I’m all alone.”
“I know. Please do as I say.”
There was another silence. Then the girl gave a short laugh and turned to the car. I heard her flounce into her seat. A moment later the ceiling light went up.
At once I lifted my head. She was alone in the car.
“All clear, Mansel,” I said.
The girl started violently.
“My God,” she said. And then, “You don’t take any risks.”
“Not with places like Arx,” I said.
“You’re wise. How’s Mrs Chandos?”
“None the worse.”
“You’re rather abrupt, Mr Chandos.”
“Yes.”
Mansel took up the running.
“Do you still wish to talk?” he said.
“That’s what I came for,” said the girl.
“Very well. I will talk in this car. But not here. If you will allow me to drive it, I’ll move a little way off. Mr Chandos will sit behind.”
“I can hardly help myself.”
“Oh, yes, you can,” said Mansel. “You can turn my conditions down and drive on your way.”
“Damn your soul,” said the girl: “you can do as you please.”
“I will in a moment,” said Mansel: and then, “I want you, John.”
He moved away from the car and I knew he was giving orders. After perhaps a minute I heard the Lowland start…
The girl was extremely handsome – not to say, beautiful. She might have been twenty-six. Her face was oval, and her cheekbones were rather high. She was very dark, and she had a beautiful skin. Her blue-black hair was so sleek that it looked like a cap. She was wearing an elegant housecoat of flowered silk and a very fine emerald bracelet upon her right arm: this was matched by earrings which must have been worth a great deal. On her left wrist, a watch was set in the same rare stones. She was using a strong make-up, and she looked theatrical.
When Mansel appeared again, I opened my door of the car and took my seat behind: the girl moved across to the left, and Mansel took the wheel. He switched off the ceiling- and headlights, but left the parking lights on. Then he started the engine and let in the clutch.
We drove for three miles in silence, before turning up a track and into a wood. As we came to rest, I heard the Lowland behind us turn off the road.
It was then that I saw the girl’s wristwatch, which had a luminous dial. It moved from beneath her skirt and up to the door: there it seemed to hover for a moment and then returned to her lap. I switched on the ceiling light, to see that the pocket on the door was showing a very slight bulge.
“And now,” said Mansel.
“I don’t come from Gedge,” said the girl.
“No?”
“I come from my Uncle Horace, who owns the Château of Arx.”
“I see.”
“He – doesn’t like Gedge very much.”
“Not everyone does.”
“Oh, for God’s sake be human,” snapped the girl. “I’m here as a friend.”
“But we are not,” said Mansel. “We are here at your invitation – no more and no less.”
“Guilty, until I’m proved innocent?”
“Yes,” said Mansel. “Anyone must be that who comes out of Arx.”
The girl bit her lip. Then –
“My Uncle Horace knows that you are up against Gedge. He, too, is up against Gedge. He thinks, if you worked together, it would be rather more easy to put Gedge out.”
“I see,” said Mansel. “Why is he up against Gedge?”
“Blackmail. Certain letters of his fell into Gedge’s hands. That was two years ago. Gedge doesn’t ask for money. Instead, he uses the château as though it were his. And that is intolerable.”
“I can think of few things more unpleasant. Why doesn’t the Baron de Parol go to the police?”
The girl shrugged her elegant shoulders.
“People who are blackmailed very seldom do.”
“I don’t agree. In any event, to submit to blackmail is madness. The price is always too high.”
“Aren’t we running away from the point?”
“I don’t think so. Gedge cumbers your uncle’s earth. Your uncle desires to uproot him. Well, he can do so tomorrow – he’s only to go to the police. Instead–”
“Why don’t you go to the police?”
“Why should I?”
“You know what Gedge is.”
“I know this – that some years ago he tried his best to possess some jewels that were mine.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“Because he had committed no crime. He was trying to rob the fellow who had robbed me.”
“You know that Gedge is one of the very big shots.”
“I think that is very likely. He doesn’t happen to have practised his art against me.”
“He kidnapped Mrs Chandos. Why don’t you jug him for that?”
“That’s surely Chandos’ affair.”
The girl expired.
“What the devil are you here for?” she said.
“I am here because Gedge has declared his intention of taking my life. I always think it best to settle a thing like that. And so I have come to this region to give him his chance: and if he tries to take it, I shall kill him in self-defence.”
“My uncle offers to assist you.”
“To defend myself? I’m much obliged, but I think it would be a mistake to rope him in.”
“You mean you don’t trust him.”
“I neither trust nor distrust him. But Gedge has thrown down the glove and I’ve picked it up. Seconds out of the ring, in a show like that.”
The girl raised her eyebrows.
“You’d be well advised,” she said, “to accept my uncle’s help. Gedge’s eyes – when your name is mentioned…”
“Who mentions my name?” said Mansel.
“If you have to know, it’s seldom off somebody’s lips. Gedge’s crowd, I mean.”
“Why do you have to do with people like them?”
“
Force majeure
, I suppose.”
“Forgive me for pointing out that you have their confidence.”
“Which is absurd.”
“You knew my name. You knew where I was staying. You knew why I was there. You knew that Mrs Chandos had been kidnapped. You know that Gedge is ‘one of the very big shots.’”
“When Brevet has had a couple, he can’t keep quiet.”
“I see. D’you know Gedge’s nickname?”
For a split second the girl hesitated. Then –
“Yes, I know that. Auntie Emma.”
As she spoke, she moved in her seat, and I saw her left hand go out to the pocket on the door of the car.
“Have you got a sobriquet?”
The explosion the question provoked was shocking enough. As the girl whipped out a pistol, I caught her wrist and took the weapon away. Her face distorted with passion, she turned to stare upon me. Then she swung round upon Mansel and started to fight. Mansel seized her ankles and I caught her other wrist; but it was not easy to hold her, for fury had lent her a strength few women possess. And then, all at once, she went slack.
“I’m through,” she said. “Let me go.”
We did as she said, and she put her head in her hands and sank her hands to her lap. So she stayed for a minute, and then she began to weep…
Perhaps five minutes went by – a painful interval. Then the girl lifted her head and sat back in her seat.
“Yes, I’m The Stoat,” she said. “And, as I have shown you, I’m not as nice as I look.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Mansel.
The girl turned and looked upon him.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“That the company you keep is against you.”
“That may be true,” said the girl. A hand went up to her head. “You’re the first decent men I’ve met for nearly three years.”
“There you are,” said Mansel. He pressed the self-starter button. “Come on: let’s be getting back.”
In silence we gained the road, and a moment later we were stealing the way we had come.
“I suppose you know,” said the girl, “that I’ve told you a pack of lies.”
“That’s all right,” said Mansel. “We’ll wash this evening out.”
“I shan’t – ever,” said The Stoat.
Her voice was none too steady, and Mansel began at once to commend her car, quietly comparing her manners with those of other makes and remembering other models which were not so good.
We had covered perhaps two miles when the girl burst out.
“I can’t let you go like this. Listen. When my uncle heard you were here, there was the most frightful scene… Gedge has a pull with him – that’s perfectly true – and so can use the château from time to time. But – honour among thieves: and to lead anybody to Arx was a hideous breach of faith. Anyway, the damage was done, and the only way to repair it was to eliminate you. My uncle wouldn’t mourn Gedge: but until you are dead, he won’t rest – and that
is
the truth.”
There was a little silence. Then –
“Thank you very much,” said Mansel.
No more was said until we had reached the farm, where Mansel and I got out, and the girl took the driving seat. I slid her pistol into the pocket beside her and shut the door. Then I stood back beside Mansel.
The girl leaned out of her window as though she had something to say.
We moved to her side.
“I’m soppy enough,” she said, “to hope that you two will think of me by another name. I’m not going to give you my own, for my father commanded his Regiment and died by Ypres. But I had a stage name once. It was Mona Lelong.”
“Good night, Miss Lelong.”
The girl caught her breath.
Then she smiled and nodded, and let in her clutch…
As her tail light flicked out of sight –
“We shall see her again,” said I.
“I hope so,” said Mansel. “Nothing like having a friend in the enemy’s camp.”
“You handled her devilish well.”
“It wasn’t so very hard. I was almost sure she was lying: and then she put a foot wrong. She said Brevet talked in his cups… And I will lay any money that Brevet can carry his wine. So I fired my big gun at once – as you and I know, the only gun that I’d got. I let her see that I knew that she was The Stoat. She at once assumed that I knew all about her and had been playing with her from first to last. And so she went off the deep end and then broke down.” Here the Lowland came up and he waved her into the yard. “We’re on to something, William. I wish I knew what. But it must be of some importance if ‘our beloved Horace’ regards us as trespassers.”
The next morning I drove to Sarrat, a neighbouring town, while Mansel kept observation upon the Château of Arx. And John Bagot with him.
I was taking the Lowland to a garage, for she had a fault in her wiring we could not find. With me was Bell.
It was market day at Sarrat, and the old-fashioned streets were full. As we were picking our way, I saw Gedge’s Lowland some thirty paces ahead. But I could not see who was in her, and, since the traffic was checked, I told Bell to take the wheel and whipped out of the car.
Under cover of vehicles, I was able to draw pretty close, to see that Lousy was driving, with Punter sitting beside. The back of the car was empty. At that moment the line of traffic began to move again, but slowly enough for me to follow on foot. Then, twenty yards farther on, Lousy drew in to the kerb and Punter prepared to alight. This meant that he would look back before he opened his door, so I drew back behind a lorry and out of his sight. And as I did so, the lorry began to move.
If I was not to be seen, there was only one thing to be done, and that was to board the lorry, whose tailboard was down. This I accordingly did, and flung myself down on some sacks which, I think, contained meal. What such as observed me would think, I did not care, but I hoped very much that no one would take any action until I was away from the car. Almost at once the lorry was checked again, and whilst I was lying there, jerking like any puppet to the tune of an engine which must have been twenty years old, almost directly beside me I heard Punter’s voice.
“All right. In a quarter of an hour.”
“Yes,” said Lousy, “I know your quarter of an hours. I’m leaving this — town at half-past ten. ‘Back at eleven sharp,’ was wot he said. An’ from here to the — shatter’s just over twenty miles. If you–”
“All right, all right,” said Punter. “I’ll be there.”
I heard the slam of his door.