The House Of The Bears (27 page)

‘I shall not move from this chair,’ said Palfrey.

The futility of it sickened him. Morne’s men would be watching; even if the message had got through to the police, their approach would be seen. It would take but a few seconds for Morne and his men to go behind that wall, leaving only the dead behind them, and the police would be as befogged as Palfrey had been when he had found the deserted house.

Morne said: ‘Carry him,’

He turned away. Two of the men from the gallery door approached Palfrey. He sat watching them. There were six men in the room besides himself and Bandigo and McDonald. The odds were hopeless; nothing he could do could help him now.

The two men moved quickly; one struck him across the head and another lifted his legs. They carried him swiftly through the gap beyond the bookcase, down a flight of stairs into a small, lighted room, with walls of dark stone. The others followed. They walked through a long, narrow tunnel until they came to a door which opened on to another small, well furnished room.

Markham and Rachel McDonald were sitting there.

‘You will wait here,’ said Morne.

He went out through another door. Guards stood outside the doors. Palfrey dropped into a chair, McDonald stood staring at his mother, and Bandigo stood quite still with his arms by his sides.

McDonald said in a cracked voice: ‘Mother, you – ’

Markham growled: ‘You may as well keep your mouth shut. She’s as mad as he is.’

She asked quietly. ‘Will you come with me, Bruce?’

‘No!’

‘You should,’ she said. There is no other wise course. Loretta will be with us.’

McDonald cried: ‘He can’t take her!’

‘He took her from the sanatorium today,’ said Rachel. ‘She was well enough to be moved with care. He might leave the house and all his possessions here, but not Loretta – you should know that. Why don’t you come, Bruce?’

McDonald did not answer.

Morne came back. Markham got up, scowling; he had only spoken once. Rachel McDonald rose from her chair and looked smilingly at her son. He returned her gaze, but did not speak. The servants went out,

Morne looked at Palfrey, and said: ‘There is a steel door on the other side of the door you can see leading to the house. It will open at six o’clock tomorrow morning. You may then leave, to take the message which you will find by your side. You will be wise to hurry, and to make sure that all human beings are away from Morne House and a radius of three miles – and a radius of three miles from Wenn Mine also. I shall be beyond pursuit, but radio messages will reach me.’

Palfrey did not speak.

Morne led the others out, and the door closed on the three men who remained. Bandigo got up at once and tried one door, then the other, in a futile gesture. He even spent some time examining the locks. McDonald stood in silence. Palfrey, glancing at his watch, realized that they would have to stay here for five hours before they were released; five hours in which the situation would get beyond repair; five hours while the ship made its course –

The
ship
could be stopped!

He felt a moment of wild elation, but that quickly faded. Morne would have left nothing unprepared. The obvious solution to the getaway was a submarine. It seemed ages since Hardy had told him that U-boats had been suspected of using Wenlock Bay.

He looked round the room. It seemed bare now, and lifeless. For some reason, he thought of Kyle. Why had they taken Kyle with them?

A door opened!
It was the door through which Morne and the others had gone, the door leading towards Wenn Mine. Into the room stepped a sturdy old man whom Palfrey recognized; Ruegg, the man who had guided him across the moor. Ruegg closed the door behind him, softly.

‘Make no noise, gentlemen, please,’ he said. He smiled at McDonald and held something towards him. ‘Your mother asked me to give you this, Mr. Bruce.’

It was a key.

McDonald said in a hoarse voice: ‘I don’t understand –’

‘She asked me to tell you that
she
has sanity,’ said Ruegg, with a gentle smile. ‘The key will open the door into the house, and I am able to tell you how to move the steel door. There is not long at our disposal, gentlemen; the ship is due to leave in two hours’ time.’

It was a feverish moment. McDonald’s hand trembled as he inserted the key; Bandigo stood watching him impatiently, Ruegg was smiling. Palfrey was trying to make sense of this development. Rachel McDonald had realized that active opposition would be futile; she had chosen this way of making sure that the mad venture was stopped. They had to make sure that no time was lost now.

The door opened.

Palfrey said: ‘Ruegg, how long is the tunnel?’

‘About three miles, sir.’

‘Will they walk?’

‘Oh, no, sir, there are electric cars.’

‘Is there one this end?’

‘Not now, sir,’ said Ruegg. ‘The shafts are very difficult to negotiate, sir, especially for someone who does not know them. I think it would be wiser to work from the house.’

‘Not all of us,’ said Palfrey. ‘I’m going – ’

‘I’m coming with you!’ snapped McDonald.

Bandigo said reluctantly: ‘I suppose you’re right Sap.’

‘I think so. Get word to Carmichael and Trollop as soon as you can, explain the whole situation to Cartwright and ask him to telephone Brett. Ruegg, I would like you, to come with us, but you may have to find your way across the moors; it’s possible that there will be a guard on the roads. You do understand that, don’t you?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Ruegg.

‘How do we open the other door?’ asked Palfrey.

‘By the same key, sir.’ It opened easily, and Ruegg stepped forward and pressed a switch which opened the steel doors beyond. Palfrey was thinking: ‘Rachel McDonald. Thanks to Rachel McDonald.’ It was like a refrain in his mind.

‘Come on,’ exclaimed McDonald.

‘We’ll want torches,’ Palfrey said, ‘and some idea of the tricks of the tunnel.’

‘I will get the torches, sir,’ said Ruegg, ‘and, if you will come with me, I will explain as much as I can.’

Two tracks in the floor of the mine were hard from the frequent passing of the electric trucks. On either side of these tracks the earth was damp and loose. Rats scuttled out of the darkness, their eyes glowing pink in the beam of the torch.

Palfrey and McDonald walked steadily on.

Palfrey found it impossible to concentrate; his mind refused to obey him. Perhaps the darkness affected him. Perhaps those dark, scurrying shapes chilled his blood. Perhaps the drops of icy water that fell from the roof and fell on his face and hands numbed him. There was certainly something the matter.

For some minutes he had been aware of a soft, padding sound, like a footfall. It kept pace with him. He told himself that it was imagination. Or the echo of his own footsteps. But it was no good; the padding sound continued in his ears.

He whispered: ‘Go another few yards, Mac, and stop.’

‘Did you hear something?’ he asked.

‘I thought I did.’

‘So did I,’

‘Let’s go on,’ Palfrey said.

Immediately he started walking, the sound came again.

McDonald stopped suddenly, and Palfrey bumped into him. His heart raced.

The sound stopped.

McDonald said: ‘I’m devilishly cold.’

‘We might run a bit,’ said Palfrey.

They broke into a trot. It was difficult to make themselves move quickly at first. Palfrey was conscious of shambling along. Gradually he warmed up. It was better to be warm, but it did not take that dull noise out of his ears. He saw the beam of torch light disappearing into the distance, and knew that the tunnel ran straight for at least two hundred yards. ‘Quicker,’ he said. McDonald lengthened his stride, and Palfrey found himself running well. But he could not quell his fear. The impulse to look round was now overwhelming.

He glanced back swiftly, but he saw nothing. Still the sounds were there, between their footsteps. They were running side by side and keeping pace. Sometimes water splashed up to their knees, once or twice they ran into a pool so deep that they were slowed down and the water splashed up into their faces. Palfrey was reminded of the moor, when he had ridden out with Ruegg; the creepy moor, with mist rising from the stagnant pools and the treacherous bog all about them. There could be no bog here, and there was no sense in believing that they were being followed, and yet that awful fear was deep within him.

Why?

McDonald said: ‘I suppose they can time the damned thing? ‘

He gasped the words out.

‘What thing?’ asked Palfrey.

‘The bomb.’

So that was it! That was the thought that held those awful fears, as different from anything he had ever experienced. They were running towards that ‘unit’. They were running towards and not away from the thing which had caused such damage in Wenlock, the thing which was allied to the terror that had struck Hiroshima. They were running towards it, and he wanted to run away.

He had to go on.

He managed to glance at his watch. They had been on the move for twenty minutes; it seemed much longer. They had covered a little over a mile, he thought; not very much more, because they had lost some time standing and listening. But at this rate they would reach the mine in less than an hour.

McDonald said; ‘Stop a moment.’

Palfrey obeyed. He saw why McDonald had wanted to stop; they were out of the narrow tunnel and running into another, wider one. The floor level of the wider tunnel was higher than that of the one along which they had been running. They stepped into it. The floor was much drier, and Palfrey laughed in sheer relief.

‘Do we go right or left?’

‘We follow the tracks.’

The tracks turned left. They walked along for a few yards, and then broke into a trot again. They were further apart now, and the floor was much harder – almost as if it had been cemented.

Then along the tunnel there came a whine, a high-pitched whine like a sighing wind. McDonald gasped: ‘What’s that?’

‘Let’s keep going,’ said Palfrey.

At the first sound his heart had started to beat very fast; now, to his satisfaction, it was steadier. Being confronted with an emergency had steadied him. He put his hand to his pocket and touched his gun.

The sound came again, high-pitched, whining; like a dog.

Palfrey thought of the bloodhounds on the moor.

There were other sounds now; someone was running. McDonald put a hand on Palfrey’s arm. ‘Put that light out!’ he gasped. Palfrey obeyed: They stood in pitch darkness, listening to the noises travelling along the tunnel. Running footsteps merged with that whining sound; there seemed to be a note of excitement in the whining. The bloodhounds
were
ahead. Suddenly the noise grew louder, there was a baying note; yes, the bloodhounds were coming towards them.

Palfrey said: ‘You’ve got your gun, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘We’ll stand on either side,’ said Palfrey.

McDonald pressed against one wall, Palfrey against the other, and they stood waiting in the darkness. The baying was getting nearer and nearer. Then a faint light appeared, not far away. It grew brighter. They could see another bend in the tunnel. Suddenly a figure appeared, a man, running fast but swaying a little from side to side. They did not see his face, but they could see the terror which was reflected in his movements, in his desperate speed.

Two hounds leapt into sight, not more than thirty yards behind him, and a moment later a small truck appeared. Its single headlight, low down, spread a bright glow along the tunnel, on the hounds and their quarry.

On Kyle!

Palfrey fired at the dog nearer to him, and the beast dropped in its tracks. It had been a lucky shot, there was not even a squeal. A gasp of alarm came from the man in the truck. Then McDonald fired, twice, and the second hound fell over and kicked his feet in the air and squealed, a horrifying sound. McDonald fired again and the squealing stopped.

The driver of the truck was standing up, with a gun in his hand. ‘No thanks,’ said Palfrey, absurdly, and shot him; there was nothing else to do.

The man slumped back.

Kyle was now leaning against the wall and gasping for breath. McDonald hurried to his side, while Palfrey looked at the driver of the truck. The man had died instantaneously.

Kyle was trying to smile, but his lips were set with pain. Palfrey ran his hands over him; the trouble was in that wounded leg, which had been tried far too much.

They carried Kyle to the truck. There was ample room in the back for him to lie full length. He was grinning more cheerfully now.

‘How far away is the mine?’

‘Most of two miles,’ said Kyle. ‘And they’re all set to leave.’

There was a wondering note in his voice. ‘One of the servants slipped me a knife. I was able to cut myself free,’

‘He slipped us a key,’ said Palfrey.

‘I’m looking forward to meeting him again,’ said Kyle. ‘You know what they’re doing, I suppose?’

‘Morne told me.’

‘There are twenty-five or thirty of them along there, including the women,’ said Kyle. ‘They fetched that girl, Loretta. We three won’t be able to do much against them.’

“There will be help,’ Palfrey said. ‘Our people will move on the mine pretty quickly, and the bay is being watched closely.’

‘That makes it easier,’ said Kyle.

‘Makes what easier?’ asked McDonald.

Kyle said: ‘Getting that damned bomb formula.’ He grinned, ‘It is a formula, Morne’s got it in his pocket. There aren’t any copies. He told me about that. He talks too much, does King Rufus – you dubbed him well, McDonald.’

‘I know him,’ growled McDonald.

‘Do you think you can drive this thing, Mac?’ asked Palfrey.

‘I can try,’ said McDonald. ‘I wonder how far we can go before we’re heard.’

Palfrey said: ‘That doesn’t matter; they’ll expect the truck back; the sound won’t worry them.’

‘The man who always keeps his head,’ said Kyle, with an eyebrow raised. ‘Stay in the back with me. Palfrey, I can talk as we’re going along.’