Sweet Danger (30 page)

He left her at last and went back to the hall. The Colonel and company commander, Captain Stukely-Wivenhoe, were waiting for him. Both men were naturally curious. The atmosphere of mystery and excitement which enwrapped the whole place like a blanket was unmistakable.
Campion glanced at their khaki uniforms and was thankful and comforted. Old Featherstone's bright pink face and voluminous white moustache were other emblems of peace and security, and for once in his life Mr Campion was grateful for such assurance.

Proceedings were interrupted at the outset by the return of the orderly from the dining-room whither Mr Parrott had been carried. The man was plainly startled and Featherstone nodded to him to speak.

‘Excuse me, sir, but there's a man under the table in the other room.'

‘Hiding?' Old Featherstone clumped forward with interest.

‘Hardly, sir. He's bound and gagged.'

‘Oh yes, of course,' said Mr Campion. ‘Of course. I forgot.'

The Colonel's little blue eyes rested enquiringly on the young man for a moment before he coughed noisily, and returned to his subordinate.

‘That's all right, Bates. Run upstairs and see if you can find a dressing-gown and a pair of trousers for Mr Campion. Can't stand about like that, Campion,' he continued as the man went off. ‘Might catch a chill – never know.'

The young man smiled faintly. There was something fantastic about old Featherstone's imperturbability.

‘Look here, sir,' he said, ‘I'd better explain a bit, hadn't I?'

‘All in good time, my boy, all in good time. First of all, is there anything you want done? We're here primarily to give a hand, and secondly to convey – ah – something or other to Whitehall. Orders were a bit hurried, don't you know. Young Oxley will be along with the men at any minute now.'

Campion considered. ‘Someone ought to go along to Great Kepesake to collect Miss Huntingforest, the elder Miss Fitton, her brother, and Randall,' he ventured.

‘Guffy Randall?' enquired the captain with interest. ‘I
was lunching with his father yesterday. Really! Well, shall I go along, sir?'

‘Yes.' Old Featherstone stuck his head out of the door. ‘I hear the lorry. You take that Rolls, Wivenhoe, and bring 'em all back here. Any objections, Campion? Your car?'

‘No, sir, but I think that's an excellent idea, if I may say so. That car will get through anywhere unquestioned. I should take someone with you, Wivenhoe, all the same.'

‘Right. I'll pick up a man from the lorry.'

Old Featherstone watched him go and then returned to Campion, who was struggling into the dry clothes the orderly had unearthed.

Mr Campion turned the events of the past few hours over in his mind. The iron box stood on the table and he laid his hand over it absently.

‘There's a man's body in the river below the mill,' he said slowly. ‘It's probably in a bit of a mess. He went through the wheel. Then there's that fellow tied up in the dining-room; he's a case for the police.'

‘Oh, well, we'll leave him there.' Old Featherstone seemed relieved. ‘We're just here to protect your party and to convey the two – ah – objects which you've discovered to headquarters. In confidence, I don't understand this business, Campion, but as far as I can gather, someone – I heard young Eager-Wright's name mentioned – went to town carrying something or other which set the whole department by the ears, and they phoned to me.'

Mr Campion's nod of understanding was interrupted by the arrival of the lorry and the unexpected appearance of Farquharson, followed by the subaltern Oxley. The young officer made his report briefly to Featherstone.

‘We found Mr Farquharson's car overturned, sir, on the Sweethearting road. He was being attacked by the occupants of a second car, who were armed, and who fired on us. One of our men has a shoulder wound. Mr Farquharson appealed to us for assistance and as his story showed that he
was – well – in this business, sir, I ventured to bring him along.'

‘Quite right. Unorthodox, but quite right. Where are the blackguards who fired on you?'

Old Featherstone's pink face was almost luminous.

‘In the back of the second lorry, sir.'

‘Splendid. I suppose we shall have to turn them over to the civil authorities. Pity. Good work, all the same. Now, Oxley, send the sergeant and a party to search the river for a body. Corpse of a man. Been through a mill wheel, poor fellow. Bring him in.'

‘Yes, sir.' The young man saluted and went off, while Farquharson, pale and battered, but bursting with excitement, came forward.

Old Featherstone shook hands with him. ‘Didn't think I should find you in this sort of mess, my boy, when we met last year. That was a dull affair at the Bletchleys', wasn't it? God bless my soul, it was. Well, had a bit of a scrap?'

‘Just that, sir. Oxley put the story in a nutshell.'

‘They caught you, I suppose?' Campion enquired.

‘Yes, in the end. But I gave them a run for their money first. What happened? Did you get it?'

‘Amanda did.'

‘Amanda? Where is she?'

‘In the drawing-room. He got her pretty badly, I think.'

‘Good Lord!' Farquharson sat down suddenly on the edge of the table.

The doctor from Sweethearting arrived at practically the same moment as the scouting party under Oxley reported that the heath was deserted, and the barn which the invaders had used as a garage was now empty.

Farquharson and Campion waited in the hall for the doctor to come out of the drawing-room. They were both silent, but while Farquharson looked frankly anxious there was no expression at all upon Mr Campion's face.

At length the doctor, a squarely built, eminently practical
young man, came out to them, and at the first glimpse of his face Farquharson seemed relieved.

‘Is she all right?'

The doctor glanced at him suspiciously. Revolver wounds were rare in his experience, and ever the precursor of a day in the courts giving evidence.

‘I don't know about all right,' he said brusquely. ‘She's not in danger, if that's what you mean. Can we get her to bed upstairs anywhere? There'll have to be explanations about this, you understand.'

Mr Campion, whose appearance was not improved by the enormous pair of flannel trousers and gay dressing-gown, both the property of Guffy Randall, in which he was arrayed, nodded gravely to the doctor.

‘That's all right,' he said. ‘Don't worry. Farquharson, will you see to all this? I must go to Featherstone.'

When Farquharson descended the staircase some time later, Amanda was lying safely in her bed, conscious and comparatively comfortable. The doctor remained with her until Mary and Aunt Hatt should arrive, not that he was in any way alarmed at her condition, but his curiosity was thoroughly aroused, and he was conscious that it might be his duty to make some sort of report to the police.

On reaching the hall, Farquharson found a soldier on duty outside the drawing-room door.

‘Here you are sir,' he said. ‘The Colonel's compliments and will you join the conference?'

Farquharson hurried through the doorway to find a typically Featherstonian scene within. The furniture had been pushed back save for a small rectangular table which was placed in the centre of the room, and behind which the old man sat with Wivenhoe on his left, and, rather surprisingly, an anxious, but still game Aunt Hatt on his right. Mary sat behind her aunt, while Campion, Guffy, and Hal were placed on a long, narrow music stool parallel with and in front of the Colonel's table.

Campion had just finished speaking as Farquharson came in, and Aunt Hatt, who was too worried about Amanda to be silenced by any military etiquette, sprang up.

‘How is she? Can I go up to her?'

Colonel Featherstone turned a shade darker, but his manners did not desert him. Lumbering to his feet he clumped over to the door and held it open.

‘Give the brave little woman my compliments, ma'am,' he said. And as Aunt Hatt fluttered out he strode back to his chair without dreaming for an instant that he had spoken, save in the most simple, natural manner in the world.

‘Ah, Farquharson, my boy,' he said. ‘Sit down, will you? Campion's just told us a most remarkable tale. If you'll forgive me, my dear' – he nodded to Mary – ‘damned remarkable. Well, Campion, let's have that iron box and open it, shall we? Don't want to make any mistakes at this juncture.'

The iron box was placed on the table, where the Crown of Averna already lay, and Captain Wivenhoe and Campion set to work on it with a steel pike in the captain's clasp-knife. The long secretion in the damp well-head had told upon the metal, and finally the lock burst with a crack like a pistol shot. In spite of the Colonel's discipline, they crowded round the table.

The box contained a small parcel wrapped in oilskin, which, on being unfolded, disclosed a stout linen bag, a little yellow and clammy with age. Within this again was a sheet of old coarse law paper, and a folded slip of parchment, the seal which had bound it, broken.

Colonel Featherstone produced a pair of glasses, and his stubby fingers played over the papers clumsily.

‘This looks important, Campion,' he said. ‘But I'm hanged if I see what it means. Have a look at it.'

Campion took the sheet of paper and read the faded, brown script aloud:

‘Huh!' said old Featherstone and added, turning to Hal: ‘Here, my lad, look at this, will you?'

He passed the parchment to the boy, who opened it carefully. An array of seals met their eyes and a fine Latin screed, too legal and archaic to follow, but the word ‘Avernium' re-occurred again and again, and at the foot of the page was the signature too well known to be doubted, ‘Metternich,' and the date, 1815.

‘That's it!' Guffy met Campion's eyes, and a sense of exhilaration swept over the whole room.

Featherstone replaced the documents carefully in the linen bag, and put the crown in with them.

‘Well, Campion, my boy,' he said, ‘I'll take charge of these, shall I? Daresay you'll be glad to hand over the responsibility, after everything. Don't worry. They shan't leave my tunic until I place them in the secretary's own hands. You're going to get recognition for this, you youngsters, and in my opinion you deserve it.'

They watched him while he buttoned the linen bag carefully in the inside pocket of his tunic.

‘There,' he said with unconcealed satisfaction. ‘Now I must consider myself a royal courier, don't you know. We'll do the thing properly. Mustn't take any risks. I'll take Bates and a section under a corporal in one lorry by way of escort. Wivenhoe, I'll leave these good people in your care until you can hand over everything to the civil authorities. Well, good-bye, Campion. Congratulations, sincere congratulations.'

They followed him to the door and saw him safely installed in the back of his car. Bates and the chauffeur sat in front, and the lorry lumbered along behind. There was something slightly absurd, slightly magnificent, and
mightily romantic about this gallant departure, and even had Brett Savanake not lain mangled in the sweet waters of the Bright, Mr Campion felt he would have been unperturbed about the safety of the precious proofs.

Captain Wivenhoe proved as capable, if less colourful, as his superior officer.

‘Look here, Randall,' he said as they trooped back to the drawing-room, ‘we both know the County Commissioner pretty well. Dear old Tenderton is an understanding, intelligent old boy. I feel like putting the whole thing, or most of it, before him. After all, I gather there's a bit of a mess to clear up, and that will fall to his department. They found the body, by the way. The mill wheel stove his head in against the race.'

Guffy turned enquiringly to Campion. ‘Shall we appeal to the Commissioner?' he enquired.

Mr Campion nodded. ‘Fine,' he said. ‘Fine, if you can fix that up between you. The doctor chappie will want appeasing, too, and there are several things to be considered.'

‘Good heavens, yes.' Guffy blinked as he spoke. ‘Dr Galley. I'd forgotten him.'

They listened appalled, while he sketched a brief account of their terrible experience of the afternoon, his inarticulation and under-statement lending a much more awesome gravity to the tale than any more elaborate telling could have done.

Mr Campion was silent after the recital, but when Wivenhoe went out to dispatch a man with a note to the County Commissioner he spoke:

‘That kid Amanda,' he said; ‘what a nerve she has! She stayed behind after all that.'

Guffy glanced across the room to where Mary stood with her back to him talking to Hal.

‘They're marvellous women, all of them,' he said, and his round solemn face brightened. ‘I'm a very happy man,
Campion,' he announced gravely. ‘Very happy, indeed. Mary's as keen on the country, the estates and that sort of thing, as I am. Fortunate, isn't it? There's only one thing that's worrying me. We got engaged this afternoon,' he said, ‘and at that time I assure you I had no idea at all that this revelation of old Galley's was going to break. You see, as it is, in view of everything, the P.M. can hardly refuse to interest himself personally in the family's claim, and with this sheet from the register to go on it seems to me to be a foregone conclusion. That means that I shall marry Mary just when her brother gets the earldom and the estate. Rather awkward, isn't it?'

Campion passed his hand through his fair hair. ‘My dear old garrulous,' he said, ‘let me assure you first that the idea of anyone of your house marrying for wealth or position is one of those absurdities which could not take root even in the embryonic mind of the lowliest of gossip-columnists. Then let me enquire gently and kindly, as of a man demented by love or drink, what the hell are you blathering about? What page from what register?'