Traitor's Purse (12 page)

Lee made a deprecatory grimace and quite openly thought for a moment or so. He was extraordinarily self-conscious in that one way. His thinking was obvious, almost pantomimic.

‘That’s not quite true,’ he said at last. ‘One must be fair. Let’s say that instead of patronizing the arts they’ve always gone in for science and have been lucky in having been able to produce a few valuable inventors who have always made their own fortunes as well as adding to the general fund. The Masters had their great successes in the Victorian industrial age, naturally. It’s only comparatively recently that they’ve become so very wealthy. They bought very sensibly at that time, always going for overseas property, tea plantations, and so on. At the moment I think the Institute gives more than value for money every time. Look at the facilities the chosen inventor gets here. Once his idea is approved, every mortal thing he needs is given to him gratis. His patents are acquired for him and he hands out a percentage. Just now things are more than booming, naturally. The
Carter
cheap process for extracting petrol from coal is going to be an enormous thing, and we’ve one or two pleasant little explosives on the carpet. The whisky bottle you can’t refill is another one of ours too; that’s a great money-maker.’

Campion listened to him fascinated. He knew it, he had heard it all before, he was sure of that, and vaguely it was all coming back to him. It reminded him most of a rubbing of an old brass. Shadowy outlines of facts were coming up on the blank surfaces of his mind. If only he felt a little more sure of his legs, a little less as though he were ploughing through clouds of cotton-wool which gave beneath him!

‘I don’t approve of the Masters in principle,’ Lee was saying pedantically. ‘I don’t like pockets of wealth like that in the country. But, to do these fellows justice, their little constitution does good work. The Ceremony of the Bale of Straw is a nice archaic idea, for instance. All the mummery of the fraternity is connected with the Nag, you know, and they have a ruling that at every half-yearly meeting the Masters shall “put down a bale of straw in the Nag’s stable”; that is to say they shall do something to improve the amenities of the town of Bridge. That’s why the place is so luxuriously drained, watered, and lit. There’s not a scrap of slum property in the area. Fortunes are being spent on the place and the rates are negligible. Here we are. See the sentry? That’s what working for the War House does for you.’

They had come up over the ridge of high ground which stretched up behind the poplar trees and had reached the private road leading to the Institute, a cluster of roofs surrounded by a high moss-grown wall. The original building was now no more than a museum, but all around it clustered other houses, workshops, and laboratories, representing every phase of British architecture. There was the usual preponderance of Victorian-Gothic and a generous sprinkling of modern pillbox.

A soldier with fixed bayonet stood on guard before the ornamental iron gates. Lee Aubrey smiled at the man as they passed.

‘Gloriously mad, isn’t it?’ he murmured. ‘There’s
something
rather sweet and childlike about the modern world, don’t you think? “Halt. Give the countersign. Pass friend. Eena-deena-dina-do, you’re a spy.” It’s so monstrously young.’

‘Childish perhaps, but hardly sweet,’ said Campion absently. ‘Where do we go first?’

‘My dear fellow, that’s entirely up to you. My instructions are that I’m to show you anything that you care to see. Take your choice. On your left you have the bad-tempered but otherwise wholly delightful Carter working with his team of galley-slaves. They’ll be polite because I’m by way of being the Headmaster, but they won’t be hospitable.’

Aubrey was enjoying himself. He was exaggeratedly proud of the place and its magnificent organization.

‘On your extreme right, in that depressing building which looks like a Methodist chapel, is poor old Burgess. He’ll talk all night. He’s having trouble with his reaper. The late trials were nothing less than a fiasco and he may have struck a serious snag. Before you is the library, the office, the filing department, and the drafting rooms. And right over there, as comfortably distant as space will permit, is the star turn of the moment, the War House’s little white-headed boy, our young Master Butcher, mucking about with Anderton’s latest variety of potted hell fire. I have to keep an eye on him and see he controls his quantities. It’s incredible stuff. Half a teaspoonful can make as much mess as a bucketful of T.N.T. Hence the sentry on the door.’

He paused expectantly and Campion stood irresolute. This was a continuation of the frustration dream of the night before. As far as he could see, the whole thing was being handed to him on a plate and yet he could not put his finger on it.

‘It’s almost an embarrassment of riches,’ he said aloud, and added hastily: ‘What’s in the dovecote?’

The building so unkindly described had caught his attention because of a certain amount of life going on before it. A lorry loading sacks was drawn up in front of the door.

Lee frowned and the man at his side was aware of the
wave
of irritation which passed over him. It was a physical thing, as if his personal magnetism had been switched off and on again.

‘You’ve got a nose, haven’t you?’ he said, half laughing. ‘You’re one of those people who always move the chair which covers the hole in the carpet and go straight to the cupboard where the dirty washing-up has been hidden. I offer you the exciting drawing-room exhibits and you go direct to the one dull ugly scullery in the place. That’s our cross, the blot on our dignity. We’ve been compelled to shelter fifty beastly little amateur workers simply because we happen to have a lot of room. Think of it! In that sacred building Richardson perfected his adding machine, and now half a hundred little girls who can hardly write are addressing envelopes there for the Ministry of Health. As if there weren’t five million other places in England which would do quite as well. I tell you, I have them shepherded in and out by a police matron and a stalwart from the Corps of Commissioners. Like to come and look at them?’

‘Not very much,’ said Campion. They had reached the building by this time and through the long windows he could see rows of bent heads and piles of Government envelopes. It looked dull work, but in his present mood highly preferable to his own, and he envied them.

As they skirted the lorry a woman with untidy white hair came out of the arched doorway. She was faintly familiar and he recognized her at last as one of Aubrey’s dinner guests of the night before. She was startled to see them and came up with that half-hesitant, half-eager humility which is more common in far younger women.

‘We’re getting on very nicely, Mr Aubrey,’ she said appealingly and blushed.

Campion was surprised. Missing on four out of five cylinders though he was, he could still recognize those symptoms when he saw them, and she was not that kind of woman. A great many ladies who are old enough to know better frequently become hopelessly infatuated with brilliant middle-aged bachelors, but they are seldom of the
experienced,
intelligent type of gentlewoman which he saw before him. He recollected that she had been very interested in Amanda the last time he had seen her. He glanced at Aubrey, to find him frigid.

‘Splendid, Mrs Ericson,’ he said briefly and passed on, leaving a flavour of distaste in the air. ‘Patriotic voluntary work,’ he murmured under his breath to Campion as they turned the corner. ‘Intense stuff.’

‘She looked intelligent,’ said Campion and Lee considered the matter.

‘Oh, she is,’ he agreed brightly. ‘She’s a widow of the late holder of one of the Masters’ minor offices and quite a power in the town. Very well read, you know, nice, educated, but emotionally unstable, I fancy. Now this is Butcher’s domain, which I take it is your main interest. I say, I admire your magnificent reticence, Campion. It’s impressive.’

The final observation was made impulsively and as if he meant it.

Campion said nothing and hoped that his silence might pass for modest appreciation. There was a dull throbbing in the back of his head and he had begun to wonder if his vision was not a little deceptive. All the colours in the bright sunlight tended to blur together dangerously. He took hold of himself again. This was hopeless! There was something to be done and, as far as he could gather, only himself to do it. It was a fine thing if he was going to fall down on it through a god-damn silly bang on the head!

It was a longish walk to the square concrete tower at the far end of the Institute grounds and when they reached it their inspection was not illuminating. Butcher himself turned out to be a cheerful youngster with the face of a ploughboy and thick pebbled glasses. He had a youthful respect for Aubrey, whom he clearly admired, and was pleased to show his laboratories and workshops.

‘These are the best of the bunch,’ he said, diving into a rough cupboard in a corner of the main room on the ground floor, which had been deserted and open to the path as they came up. ‘I keep them in their racks because they really are
pretty
sensational. We call ’em Phoenix Eggs. Don’t drop it, old man, will you? It’s quite safe unless you dig that pin out, of course, but it’s as well not to bounce it about because it’s only a specimen and you never know.’

Campion looked down at the metal egg so suddenly thrust in his hand. It was a little larger than a hen’s and unexpectedly light. Butcher was fondling another, fitting it lovingly into the hollow under his thumb.

‘It’s important to be able to chuck it a decent distance,’ he explained. ‘It’s pretty powerful. The blast is colossal and they even make quite a crater. It’s wonderful really. You can make almost any building look silly with only one of these. It’s the Anderton variety of liquid air, but we’ve improved on it – or at least we’ve utilized every aspect of it. I could hit that old museum over there with this and after the balloon had gone up, oh boy, you wouldn’t know it! This is refined warfare, that’s what this is.’

He retrieved Campion’s specimen, juggled with the two of them absently, and replaced them in their nests.

‘They’re putting up the machines for these now,’ he said. ‘I’ve got some nice little aero models coming along in the basement, but we’re still working on the detonators. Anything else in particular that you’d like to see?’

‘No, I won’t keep you from your work. You’ve given me more than fifteen minutes already.’

The young man’s expression did not change and Campion shook hands and turned away. A sixth sense, or rather that mysterious body-mind which so often seems to take charge when one’s normal brain goes back on one, was looking after him. His reserve and non-committal tone were far more impressive than any show of appreciation could ever have been and young Butcher retired to his underground laboratory wondering if the Authorities really put quite the trust in him which their behaviour so far had caused him to suspect.

It was Campion who led Aubrey out into the sun again. He had listened to a quantity of technical detail from Butcher, all of which might be important to an enemy but
was
not so to him. Whatever Butcher knew was also known already, presumably, by the War Office and was therefore none of Campion’s business. What he must be looking for was something which was hitherto unknown to them. Fifteen? He must keep his mind clear and hang on to that. Fifteen: that was still his only definite clue. Fifteen, and the people who knew what it meant. Butcher was evidently not one of them, but there was someone else who was.

As he raised his eyes and looked down the narrow concrete path which ran like a chalk-line across the green turf, he saw the man he was thinking about. He appeared so quickly that it was difficult to say whether thought or vision came first. His jaunty roundness was recognizable at a tremendous distance and he came bouncing along towards them without haste.

X

‘THAT FELLOW PYNE
,’ said Campion.

‘Really?’ Aubrey’s distinctive face clouded. ‘What on earth is the man doing wandering round here alone like this? They’ve let him in to look for me, I suppose. They mustn’t do that, as they very well know. He’s talked his way in, you see. How extraordinary these fellows are! I’m quite prepared to like him, but he mustn’t make himself a nuisance. I loathe having to tell a man to clear out.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Pyne? Oh, rather an interesting bird. Remarkably intelligent in his own way. Probably dishonest. Works like a fiend.’ Lee had dropped into his objective mood again. His remarks were quite free from affectation and he spoke with the judicial simplicity of an admittedly superior being. ‘He’s evacuated his office down here. It’s an amusing little organization and he makes a very good thing out of it. He calls it Surveys Limited. I suppose you’ve heard of it?’

‘It’s faintly familiar,’ said Campion not untruthfully. ‘What do they do? Arrange one’s life for one?’

Lee laughed. ‘Only in part,’ he murmured. ‘They’re an advice and information bureau. If you want to build a factory or start up a business in an unknown locality they’ll get out all the dope on the place for you. They’re remarkably thorough. Apart from the usual stuff, they tabulate the most intimate details, including some very shrewd work on public opinion and estimates of local wealth. In fact they’ll sound every possible depth for you in strictest confidence. Pyne told me once that he had ten thousand agents all over England. That probably means that he’s employed about half that number at some time or other during his career. I imagine any man to whom he’s ever given five bob for personal views on local conditions is included in the aggregate, but still, to do him justice, he does seem to get the commissions. Mildly entertaining?’

Campion nodded briefly. He was not in the condition to be mildly entertained and Pyne was almost upon them.

By morning light he did not look quite so amiable and easy-going. At first Campion was inclined to blame his own unreliable observation on the night before for the change, but as soon as the newcomer began to speak he was not so sure. Pyne was still hearty, but now there was suppressed anxiety and a touch of antagonism there as well. He greeted them without preliminaries.