‘Is it – starvation?’
‘You should know better than I. They have reduced him to a living skeleton. And that man, for some weeks, had the hospitality of Morne House.’
‘Yes,’ said Palfrey.
Brett said: ‘Garth worked on similar lines to the others, but believed that the manufacture could be done on a much smaller scale. Others agreed with him, but to find the method would have taken too long. The present American method was adopted. Garth helped with that. Whether he continued with his own experiments I don’t know. I think it likely that he did.’
He paused; the others did not speak.
‘Other things will occur to you at once,’ said Brett. ‘In Corshire there is uranium. Where it is known, it is closely controlled; the Government has taken over the mines. But there may be undiscovered deposits.’
‘Morne has mines on his estate,’ said Palfrey.
‘Mines which he has closed down,’ Brett said. ‘And Morne sheltered Garth. We understood that Garth was ill. He was for some time in a nursing home. Immediately we heard the story which came from the Corshire police to Scotland Yard we visited the nursing home. There was a man there masquerading as Garth but most definitely
not
Garth. Not even like him. I have seen this man myself. He has admitted that the impersonation has been going on for seven months. He was paid handsomely for it; he was a sick man suffering from tuberculosis. The man who paid him is now under arrest – a man named Krotmann.”
‘Plump, frightened Sol!’
‘Garth, then, was taken somewhere else. No one knows where. No one knows what he has been doing. No one knows whether he was working of his own free will or under pressure when this thing started. Possibly he felt a grievance against those who decided not to adopt his suggestions; possibly he decided to continue his experiments along his own lines and afterwards found himself under pressure. Undoubtedly he
has
been under severe pressure for the last few weeks – months, probably.’ Brett stopped, and looked at the inelegant, lounging figure of Palfrey. ‘We’ve got to find out
everything,
Sap.’
THE SHADOW
Brett had gone back to London; the Palfreys were still at the Corbin hotel.
Hardy and Cartwright had been told, that morning, that Palfrey was now working for Intelligence. They had not been told why. Instructions from Brett and a higher authority had been firm; absolute secrecy was vital.
Those prisoners who were at Corbin were being taken over by the Special Branch for questioning. Agents whom Palfrey knew were on their way to Corbin. A furnished house had been rented for their headquarters, although officially Palfrey was still staying at the hotel.
‘Well, our particular job is the Morne angle,’ Palfrey said. ‘And also McDonald. What time is he coming?’
‘He said he’d be here in time for lunch,’ said Drusilla.
McDonald, who had been to see Loretta the previous day, had gone from the sanatorium to Morne House. In view of his frequent declarations that he disliked the house and the people in it, his jaunt was surprising, but Palfrey wanted to keep an open mind about McDonald. Had the suspicion risen up only on account of his following Rose to the caves, Palfrey would have discounted it, but if he
had
been in Cheddar before . . .?
Above all things, Palfrey wanted to see Kyle.
The telephone-bell rang. Drusilla lifted the receiver. Palfrey saw her change of expression and jumped up.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, Mac. At once.’ She replaced the receiver and said: ‘Morne’s been attacked and hurt.’
‘Morne!’
exclaimed Palfrey. ‘Badly enough for the hospital?’
‘No, he’s at home. He’s asking for you.’
‘A Morne habit,’ said Palfrey. ‘Give Hardy a ring and tell him we’re going out there at once. At least, I am.’ He went to the dressing-table and took an automatic from the bottom drawer. Drusilla was saying ‘Yes, we’re going at once’ into the telephone. Palfrey smiled at the ‘we’. Yet he wished this had come a little later, when Brett’s men could have followed him across the moors. Hardy’s men would be faithful, but were they up to the standard required for this business?
There was a chance that McDonald had lied, of course; he might have planned to get them out on the moor. But it wasn’t easy to check up on that. Drusilla put a call in to Morne House while Palfrey fetched the car from the garage, and first a servant, then Mrs. Bardie, told her that Sir Rufus was in bed after an accident.
The police car picked them up in the High Street, and Palfrey drove at speed through the narrow streets, with the dark clouds still massed above his head and the rain teeming down. The police car, a powerful one, was driven at equal speed. Out in the open, before they reached the moor, the rain hit the windscreen and bounced off with hissing fury, slowing down the windscreen wipers. Presently they came within sight of the moor. At this spot they were nearer the sea than on any other part of the road. In the far distance, the sky was bright, and suddenly the sun came out and shone upon Wenlock Cliff.
‘Happy augury,’ murmured Palfrey.
Over the moor the road was for the most part straight and level. They passed through two villages, built of dark stone, in the dour but not unattractive Corshire way. In a third village there was a sharp left-hand turn on the far side. A few hundred yards before it,’ Palfrey said: That’s odd, sweet. No police car.’
Drusilla looked round. Palfrey was right; there was no sign of the car.
They slowed down to less than fifteen miles an hour, and looked back repeatedly, but the police car did not emerge from the narrow High Street, and there was no sound of another engine. Palfrey drew in to the side of the road and listened intently.
‘When did you last see them?’ asked Drusilla.
‘As we turned into the village,’ said Palfrey. ‘We’d better go back.’
‘And run into trouble,’ said Drusilla.
‘We can’t leave them,’ Palfrey declared, uneasily. ‘And we can’t be sure that we won’t run into trouble further along.’ He turned the car towards the village and put on a burst of speed, slowing down only when they approached the first cottage. At a bend in the road, Palfrey braked quickly.
A crowd nearly fifty strong had gathered about the wreckage of the police car. Palfrey got out of the car and pushed his way towards the front. He was still uneasy; odd things could happen in crowds. Then he forgot everything but the sight in front of him. The three men from the police car were stretched out on the pavement; two of them were terribly injured. The nose of the car was smashed completely where it had struck the stone wall of a cottage; the wall had suffered hardly at all.
Was this an accident? Had the police driver put on too much speed? Or had the crash been deliberately caused?
Palfrey joined a doctor who was attending to the men, explained who he was, and set to work to help. There was little he could do. Soon an old ambulance appeared from a side turning, and Palfrey spoke to the village policeman.
‘I just don’t know what happened, sir,’ the man said. ‘Some say they were travelling too fast, and it’s a bad bend here, sir.
Some
say they heard an explosion first. As if the engine blew up, sir.’
‘I think the quicker you let the chief inspector know, and have him out here, the better,’ said Palfrey. ‘I shouldn’t touch the car until he’s had a chance to examine it.’
‘No, sir. Traffic will have to be diverted.’
‘Do you have much traffic across here?’
‘Not very much,’ said the policeman, ‘especially at this time of the year.’
‘Has there been any this morning?’
‘None that’s stopped,’ he was told. ‘Mr. Gerald drove through half an hour ago with Mr. McDonald.’ He seemed to take it for granted that everyone would know who they were, and certainly did not know that he had given Palfrey another sharp jolt. ‘Going into Corbin, sir.’
They must have driven very fast if they had passed through the village about half an hour before and not met Palfrey on the road. He was sure that he had not seen them. They might have taken another road, of course. It was sheer conjecture that they had been heading for Corbin. He searched the engine and the car, remembering that someone ‘thought’ they had heard an explosion. Nothing which might cause one was hidden in the Talbot.
‘I think we’ll have a spot of speed,’ he said, as he climbed into the car.
The road was flat and straight. On they went, thinking of the crash behind them, wondering what might lie ahead.
Suddenly Drusilla said: ‘Don’t forget that humpbacked bridge.’
‘Bridge?’ echoed Palfrey. ‘Oh, yes, I remember.’ He scanned the road and saw, in the distance, the muddy stream which meandered through the moor.
The bridge came into sight, and Palfrey slowed down. On one side was a copse of trees, and as he drew nearer he thought he saw something beneath the trees. It looked like a car. He kept one hand on the wheel and dropped his other to his coat pocket and his automatic. Yes, it
was
a car. He reached the bridge, travelling very fast, and the Talbot lurched. As it did so, the car behind the trees backed into the road, making it impossible for them to pass. Palfrey put on the brakes.
A man came strolling from the trees – Kyle. Susan Lee, who had been driving the car, got out and followed him. She was still the fair-haired, laughing, smartly dressed woman whom Palfrey had met at the hotel. Palfrey sat still, unsmiling, with the automatic in his pocket. Drusilla whispered: ‘Now we’ll see what they really want.’
‘Good morning,’ greeted Kyle cheerfully. ‘Sorry to put a scare into you, but I wanted a chat, and the police don’t make that easy.’
‘How did you know we would be driving out here?’
‘We didn’t know,’ said Kyle. ‘We recognized your car from a distance. I’m good at recognizing cars. I’d recognize my Packard anywhere if I saw it; I’m now reduced to an Austin!’
Palfrey said: ‘A police car was following me. It crashed. I think someone caused the crash. Two men will probably die.’
‘Oh,’ said Kyle, heavily. Susan’s eyes were no longer laughing. ‘I’m sorry about that, Palfrey, but don’t get the idea that we had anything to do with it. We’ve been one side or the other of these trees all morning; we haven’t moved more than fifty yards since sun-up. Isn’t that so, Sue?’
‘Yes,’ said Susan.
‘Why are you here?’ asked Palfrey.
‘We want to talk to McDonald,’ said Kyle, ‘then we’ll vamoose. I don’t like this moor. It makes me feel conspicuous. It wouldn’t surprise me if we could be seen from Morne House, and I don’t like the feeling of being watched, but there are some things I’ve just got to have, and a line on McDonald is one of them.’
‘I see,’ said Palfrey. Why did he find it difficult to disbelieve this man? There was a curious streak of honesty in him; something innate, something which made him likeable whatever the circumstances.’
‘A four-hour vigil is too long to waste. Or are you in a hurry?’
‘A great hurry,’ said Palfrey.
‘That’s too bad. Now don’t get me wrong, Palfrey,’ went on Kyle, dropping his hand to his pocket. ‘If I show a gun, it doesn’t mean I want to hurt either of you. It simply means that I want to see McDonald and I wouldn’t trust you to go along and do nothing about it. I don’t want to show a gun,’ he added earnestly. ‘Be friendly.’
Palfrey said: ‘Why didn’t you tell me why you wanted Garth, Kyle? Why didn’t you tell me who he is?’
‘Oh,’ said Kyle. ‘So you’re on to that.’ He kept his hand at his pocket, but his expression had changed, and Susan Lee seemed to grow tense. ‘Who told you so soon?’
‘The Marquis of Brett,’ said Palfrey.
If Kyle knew what Palfrey had done in the past, he would know much about Brett, and would be able to judge the implications of that statement. Palfrey did not think it greatly mattered if Kyle knew for whom he and Drusilla were working; the man knew the truth about Garth, that was the vital knowledge.
‘So he did,’ said Kyle, and there was a gleam in his eyes again. ‘Did he commission you, Palfrey?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then that’s another reason why we should get together! You won’t be tied down by the police,’ said Kyle. ‘And I’ve a clear bill with you, Palfrey.’
‘A clear bill of what?’
‘Don’t you remember me telling you about my employer?’ asked Kyle. ‘I referred to him the question of keeping you informed, and the answer has come through. You’re okay. You wouldn’t have been okay if you had still been tagging along behind the police.’ He took his hand away from his pocket. ‘Maybe you’re not in so much of a hurry now.’
Palfrey said, feeling much easier in his mind: ‘I am. Morne has been hurt, and wants to see me.’
After a pause, Kyle observed. ‘That family certainly sends for you when it’s in trouble. Who told you he had been hurt?’
‘McDonald.’
‘And you still trust that guy!’ marvelled Kyle.
‘Drusilla telephoned back –’
‘Now, listen,’ said Kyle. ‘In a house like that it would be easy for anyone to confirm a lie, Palfrey. I wouldn’t like to go into Morne House on McDonald’s say-so.’
‘Well, I’m going,’ said Palfrey, flatly.
‘After that police car was smashed up?’
‘Yes.’
‘Palfrey, I hand it to you,’ drawled Kyle. ‘Okay, you can go. Will you handle McDonald?’
‘Yes.’
‘And share the news?’
‘If you can convince me that it’s necessary, yes.’
Kyle grinned. ‘I can convince you. How long do you reckon you’ll be inside?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Are more police coming out to lend you a hand?’
‘They’ll send some, I expect,’ said Palfrey.
‘We’ll hang around until they arrive,’ said Kyle. ‘There’s a hollow way over there where we can park the car and watch the house. If we see anything that looks like trouble, we’ll be on our way. When the police arrive, we’ll vamoose. When will you send word to me?’
‘I don’t know where to send it.’
‘Try the
Rose and Crown
in Wenlock,’ said Kyle, ‘and ask for Pettigrew.’
The Palfreys drove off. A few minutes afterwards, glancing to the right, they saw Kyle’s car bouncing over the moor towards the hollow from which he had said he could see Morne House. The interview had done much to satisfy Palfrey about the man.