Eye For A Tooth (24 page)

Mansel was right, of course. Once again Fortune had played clean into our hands. Yet, as I looked at Saul’s hat, hanging up on the bough, I remembered those other hats that had been hung upon poles not very far off; and when I remembered them, I could not help feeling that something greater than Fortune had taken a hand in the game.

Whilst we had been waiting for Saul, Carson had found some water and had washed the blood from the staircase and had cleansed the guardroom of the stains which Kleiner’s body had left. Then he and I, between us, had stripped that room and the bedrooms of the little furniture there and had taken and laid it upon the floor of the hall. So now we had nothing to do but to draw the bolts of the floor, and this we did together, as soon as I reached the lodge.

Once again the floor tilted, to shoot its burden of dead men and their effects, and once again I heard that rumbling, slithering sound: then the floor crashed back into place, and Carson and I, between us, shot the bolts.

After that, we all turned to and dragged the sacks of quick lime on to the floor, and there we opened their mouths and poured their contents out. And when this was done, for the last time we drew the bolts, to hear the lime go down: and when the floor had settled, we locked it once more into place.

Then George and Rowley took Boll and bound his eyes, that he might not see the two-seater, as he went out. Then we locked the passages up and we took the keys.

Once more I climbed the staircase, to lower and put out the lamp and pick up the Duchess’ coat, and as I came back down the hall Carson was making ready to close the doors of the lodge.

Together we pulled them to and passed down the steps.

“Where are the others?” I said.

“Just in the drive, sir,” said Carson. “They’ve taken Forecast’s car.”

“Good for them,” said I. “I’d forgotten that.”

As we were leaving the forecourt, I hung on my heel, to look my last on the place against which our instinct had warned us, in which we had so nearly come to a dreadful end. For it had been a very near thing – a matter of two or three moments…no more than that. Had Carson not arrived when he did – had he come
but one second later
, the rest of us must have died. Nothing on earth could have saved us; for Forecast could not have missed me and, except by being cast down, Carson would never have learned that the floor was made to give way. And nobody could have survived for more than two hours in that pit.

I did not fear the place now, perhaps because I knew the awful secrets it kept, but I think I shall always see it, standing deserted and silent, sunk in its birdless woods.

It was a true charnel-house. God knows what Varvic had built it, but it must have been two hundred and fifty years old: and God knows how many poor souls strode into it cheerfully, some tired, perhaps, with hunting, to meet a horrible doom. For it was most horrible. Death is grim in whatever guise it comes; but the death the hunting-lodge offered was surely the foulest ever devised by man. Its victim was cast alive into a common grave, to spend his last moments stumbling on a mound of corruption that once had been men like himself, which soon he was going to swell, and breathing that frightful odour which his poor corpse must presently aggravate.

And then I remembered the graveyard that lay behind…

Little wonder the woods were birdless. Indeed, I found it strange that the trees should put forth their leaves about an acre which man had made so monstrous: but Nature always remembers the pitiful dead.

As I entered the car—

“I’d forgotten this,” said I.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” said Mansel. “So had I. But George remembered it – mercifully. We’ve cleaned up so very well that it would have been grievous to leave a pointer like this. We’re not concerned with Saul: all the world can see how he came by his death. But a car without any owner would give the police ideas. Well, let it give them ideas – but not near the lodge. We’ll shove it into a meadow some twelve miles off.”

And so we did. But first we picked up the Rolls at Four Mile Point.

On the way we stopped by a stream and dropped the keys of the passages into a pool, and then we drove for Goschen as hard as we could.

Since an Innsbruck train left Villach in less than an hour George and Rowley made haste to bathe and change, for they were to take the Lowland and see Boll off. But long before they were ready, Carson and I were once more out in the Rolls.

We drove for Varvic, using the southern drive. We took the car right up to the castle gate, and there I demanded to see the Duchess at once.

After two or three minutes, a personal maid appeared.

She looked at me very hard, and then she asked me in French what reason I had to think that the Duchess was there. I showed her the telegram which had been delivered to Goschen the evening before.

At once she nodded and asked me to follow her. She led me upstairs to a boudoir, full of the morning sun, and there the Duchess was standing, wrapped in a dressing-gown of black and gold.

As the door closed behind me – “Oh, my dear,” she cried, “but what are you doing here? He’s out; so they take my orders, except that I may not leave; but the instant that he returns–”

“He will never return,” said I. “Nor will Cain, or Forecast or Auger.”

She started back and a hand went up to her mouth.

“We never touched him,” I said. “He died in a trap which he had had set for us. And there, when they search for him, will his body be found. The others – will not be found. In a word, we have done what we set out to do. And now we are going, because Mansel thinks it wiser that we should go at once. Not one single thing can be proved: but we don’t want to be involved, and we may be involved if we stay. You, of course, must know nothing of all these things. But as soon as you can, we hope you will come to England, and two of us will meet you in Paris, whenever you like. And there we will give you back your pretty coat. There’s Mansel’s address.” I gave her a slip of paper. “If you are in any trouble, wire there at once: but put at the end of your wire the three words
love to Jill
. Jill is Mansel’s sister. You do not know her, of course, but that will prove to us that the wire is from you.”

The Duchess stepped to the window and stood looking out.

“I wish to God,” she said, “I could leave with you. But, of course, I can’t do that. Still, I shall leave for Paris within the week. D’you know the Hôtel du Rhin in the Place Vendôme?”

“Yes.”

“Today is Saturday. Let’s say that I shall be there on Thursday next.”

“May we call there on Friday morning?”

“Yes, if you please. We’ve got such a lot to say. And I can’t say it here – in this house. Besides, I mustn’t keep you. I’m sure it’s important that you should leave the country at once.”

“I think it is better,” I said.

She turned about.

“You shouldn’t really have come here.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“There was no other way of letting you know. Besides…”

“Besides what?”

“Do you really think we’d have gone until we had known you were safe?”

She smiled at that, and put out a hand for mine.

“When they stopped me upon the road, I knew that you’d come. I saw in a flash that I was to be the decoy: and so I had fear for you – but none for myself.”

“And when the hours went by, but we didn’t come?”

“I knew you would – in the end. I never feared. You see, you are so like John. And in the short time that I knew him – well, he cast out fear. Perfect love does, you know.” She cupped her face in her palms. “I’m not like most women I know. Most women would like to think that you had done this for them. But I rejoice to think that you have done it for him. Of course, I’ve come into it, because I was part of him. And it was for my sake that you went out last night. But if the triumph is yours, the tribute is his.”

Her words were true enough, for though she had not existed, we should have done our utmost to bring Bowshot’s murderers down. For all that, I bowed my head, that she should not see my eyes, for, since we had come to know her, I think we all confused what we had felt was our duty with what we knew was her wish.

Then she put out her little hand, and I put it up to my lips. But she leaned forward and set her cheek against mine.

“God bless you all,” she whispered. “And you especially, Richard, for you were so sweet to me that night in the lane.”

I kissed her hand again and held it fast.

“Till Friday?” I said.

“Till Friday.”

I took my leave.

By now I was very tired, but if I had thought to rest, when I got back to the farm I was undeceived; for Mansel and George and Rowley were packing like men possessed. By the time I had shaved and bathed, the cars had been laden and we were ready to leave. All this, that we should reach Salzburg before the Banks had closed, and so withdraw the papers which we had lodged.

I was descending the stairs, when the police drove up to the door.

“Yes?” said Mansel.

“Sir,” said the inspector, “I have some grave statements to make.”

Mansel leaned back in his chair and looked rather bored.

“Pray let me hear them,” he said.

“Wilful murder has been committed. We do not know how or why. But we shall find out – never fear. And we shall bring to book the men who committed the crime.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Mansel, comfortably. “And how can we help?”

“You are English,” said the inspector.

“Certainly,” said Mansel. “And what of that?”

“Do you know a place called Latchet?”

“I’ve never stopped there,” said Mansel. “I’ve passed through the village. If I remember, it’s built by the side of a stream.”

“Ten days ago five Englishmen were staying at Latchet. We know where one of them is, but where are the other four?”

Mansel frowned.

“How should I know?” he said.

The inspector looked away.

“A conversation,” he said, “was overheard. In the course of that conversation, a proper name was mentioned – not once, but several times. The name was Goschen… And that, as you are aware, is the name of this farm.”

“That,” said Mansel, “is very interesting. And what was said about Goschen?”

The inspector lifted a hand.

“One moment,” he said. He took from his pocket a passport that I had seen before. He opened it and gave it to Mansel. “Regard that photograph, please.”

“
Benjamin Gulf
,” said Mansel, reading aloud. “Unattractive-looking fellow, isn’t he?”

With his eyes fast on Mansel’s face—

“Have you,” said the inspector, “have you ever seen that man?”

“Good heavens, no,” said Mansel. He handed the passport to me. “Take a look at that, William. Have you ever seen that bloke?”

Gulf’s face stared out at me, as I shook my head.

“Never,” I lied, and handed the passport back.

Mansel gave it to George.

“And you?”

George inspected the portrait.

“I’m glad to be able to say he’s a stranger to me.”

“Show it to the servants,” said Mansel, “and see what they say.”

George nodded and left the room.

Mansel returned to the inspector.

“Is that one of the men that you are anxious to find?”

The inspector shook his head.

Then he leaned forward.

“That man’s body was found by Latchet. He had been rudely buried. Some days ago he died a violent death. His head had been crushed.”

“How very unpleasant,” said Mansel. “But what’s this to do with me?”

The inspector cleared his throat.

“I will tell you,” he said. “That man had been staying at Latchet with four other Englishmen. A week ago today the five of them left. In fact, they left without warning the day before: but two came back the next morning to pay their bill and pack what luggage they had. But Gulf was not one of these.”

“Can’t you trace the others?” said Mansel.

“We hope to very soon by means of their car. But that is not all. At the moment there is at the inn another Englishman. At least, he says he is English: but he bears an Italian name. And when we ask for his passport, he has it not. He did not arrive until Thursday – long after this man was dead. But the curious thing is this, sir – he denied all knowledge of Gulf, but when I showed him Gulf’s passport, I saw that he knew his face.”

Mansel fingered his chin.

“That’s very strange,” he said.

“More. Yesterday afternoon this man was visited by one of the four: and there was a terrible scene, the resident weeping and wailing and the visitor shouting him down. The landlady speaks no English, so she could not understand what was said, but again and again she heard the name ‘Goschen’ used: and Goschen, as I have said, is the name of this farm.”

As though in excitement, Mansel leaped to his feet.

“Describe these men,” he cried. “Is one of them tall and dark – with an everlasting smile?”

“But that is right,” cried the inspector, starting up.

“Calls himself ‘Cain’?”

“Yes, yes. That is one of the four. It was he who visited Latchet yesterday afternoon.”

Mansel stretched out an arm.

“That is the man that came here ten days ago. He came in a car and he said he was staying near here. He was undoubtedly English, but I didn’t like his looks. When I asked him what he wanted, he would not say: he tried to make me believe that he had come to call: but, whilst he was here, his driver was found by the servants inspecting the back of the house. In the end I had him shown out; for I didn’t like his looks or his manner and I was perfectly sure that he was up to no good.”

“And that is all you know, sir?”

“That’s all I know. But I’ll tell you what I will do. I have friends at Scotland Yard; and as soon as I get to London, I’ll ask them to look up his record and let you know.”

The inspector was deeply impressed.

“That would be most kind of you, sir.”

“Not at all,” said Mansel. “The man should be laid by the heels. He may or may not be concerned in the death of Benjamin Gulf: but the fact that he mentioned Goschen suggests to me that he has designs upon us… So it’s just as well we’re going. Any way, Scotland Yard may be able to help.” Here George re-entered the room. “Any luck with the servants, George?”

“None,” said George.

The passport was handed back.

The inspector bowed.

“I am in your debt, sir,” he said. “And may I be permitted to wish you a pleasant trip?”

As he drove away—

“And that,” said Mansel, “took fully a week from my life. If they’d thought of testing that passport for fingerprints…”

“My God,” said George. “That’s why you gave it to me.”

“That’s why,” said Mansel, and smiled. “Well, we’re safe enough now. But I don’t think we’ll wait any longer. Today or tomorrow they’re going to find Forecast’s car. They’ve nothing on us of course. But I’d rather not be questioned again. When one knows as much as we do, it is so very easy to put a foot wrong.”

Be sure we agreed with him.

So we drew the papers from Salzburg that afternoon and before night fell we had entered Germany. We lay that night at a village whose name I forget, and the second night after that we spent at Mansel’s flat in Cleveland Row.

So we came back to England, exactly seven weeks from the day we set out: and, except for Bell’s broken wrist, we were not one penny the worse. (I should have said that his wrist was set at Salzburg, as we came through, and the London doctors said that it had been perfectly done.)

On the following day, which was Tuesday, Mansel sent a letter to Scotland Yard.

DEAR GEOFFREY,

Major John Bowshot, deceased, of The Manor House, Beehive, Somerset.

This poor fellow was murdered on 1st July last, three miles from the village of Latchet in Krain, Austria. I discovered his body and buried it not very far from where I found it lying upon the Salzburg road.

The blows were struck by two hirelings, Frederic Ernest Bones and Benjamin Gulf. Both these men have since died.

As I had intended it should, my disposal of Bowshot’s body caused those behind the crime considerable inconvenience, and within a month of the murder they dispatched James Belper Orion Forecast to Latchet with certain instructions, the original of which I enclose, and a letter of introduction to the late Duke Saul of Varvic, also enclosed. Forecast was accompanied by Bones and Gulf and one other man.

On 2nd August these four were joined by Joseph Cain, junior partner of Worsted and Co., of Jawbone Lane.

Unable to locate Bowshot’s body, Cain interred that of Gulf, in the hope that, when found, it would be mistaken for that of Bowshot. The police, however, finding his passport on the body, identified it as that of Gulf.

In response to a telegram, purporting to have been sent by Cain, his senior partner, Aaron Biretta reached Austria on August 12th, on which day he signed a statement, the original of which I enclose.

A perusal of this statement will show you why Bowshot died.

I have reason to believe that Cain and Forecast are dead. Biretta was alive at Latchet on August 14th.

I enclose:

(a) Biretta’s statement,

(b) Forecast’s instructions,

(c) letter addressed to Duke Saul,

(d) the envelope and map referred to in (b),

(e) a second, similar envelope, found upon Cain,

(f) the passports of Biretta, Cain, Forecast and Bones,

(g) the cloak-room receipt for Bowshot’s effects.

Note:

(i) Under the name of Orion, Forecast was running a hostel in Bedlam Row. I think that, if this hostel was visited, it would be found that admission is limited to convicts who are for hire.

(ii) His Britannic Majesty’s Consul at Salzburg has Bowshot’s passport: he also has reason to believe that Bowshot was still alive on July 16th: in fact, this belief is ill-founded and may be ignored.

(iii) I am prepared to prove John Bowshot’s death to the satisfaction of the Court, for I have in my possession his note-case and the tailor’s tab or label which I cut from his coat.