Blind Corner and Perishable Goods Read online

  I do not think either of us doubted that the fat was now in the fire, for that anyone but one of the thieves would be using an electric torch about the quarry, or, indeed, for twenty miles round, was most improbable.

  The time was half past ten; and Mansel was due to arrive at eleven o’clock.

  Now where he would berth that Rolls we could not tell, beyond that it would be at some place within five hundred yards of the spot we had used as a quay; but, since there were but two roads—the one running South from Villach and into the other, which followed the river along—for the thieves to mark her arrival would be most easy; and, once they had seen her stop and her occupants separate, the most maladroit attack could hardly fail.

  There was, therefore, but one thing to do, namely, to try to reach Mansel before the Rolls had entered the danger zone; and, since he was always punctual, yet never hurried, it was perfectly plain that, if we were to be in time, we had not one moment to lose.

  In a twinkling, our plans were laid.

  Hanbury, who was a good runner, was to make the attempt; having swum the river and landed a little down stream, he was to strike across country and head for the Villach road. Bell and I were to follow, but, when we had crossed the river, we should approach the quarry and try to locate the thieves, so that, if Hanbury failed, at least we should be able to offer some other support. Rowley was to be left in charge of the oubliette.

  Hanbury was gone in an instant, for he was lightly clad and waited for nothing; but for Bell and me to go unarmed would have been idle, and, since we must wrap up our pistols to save them from getting wet, we stripped and did the same with our clothes, before descending the shoot.

  We were soon across the water, and, having made the bank at a place where a gurgling brook ran into the river, were able to dress in its gully without much apprehension of being heard.

  Indeed, the night itself was an invisible cloak; I never remember darkness so impenetrable; and there was not a breath of air.

  I then did my best to consider what manner of ambush the thieves would determine to lay, but could only decide that the track which led to the quarry and the junction of the two roads were, for the moment, the two most probable points; we, therefore, crossed the road and began to move towards the junction, in the hope of hearing some sound which would help us to a better understanding of what was afoot. The track which led to the quarry ran out of the Villach road.

  We had come, so far as I could judge, to within fifteen yards of the junction, when I heard the murmur of a voice a little way off. I at once stood still, the better to hear whence it came, but even as I did so, it ceased. After straining my ears in vain, I went cautiously on, to be instantly checked by a rope, stretched breast-high across the road, and stout enough to stop or disable a car that sought to pass by. This discovery shook me, for it showed that the thieves not only knew what to expect, but intended to take no chance of losing their prey. However, I was thankful to have made it; and, since Bell had with him his knife, we immediately severed the rope and let it lie.

  It now seemed certain that, if we went on, past the junction we should come to another rope, for to bar but one of two doors would have been out of reason; it was also equally clear that we had now come to the verge of the danger zone, and that this lay, roughly triangular, about the junction, with its base running directly from rope to rope, and its apex lying somewhere upon the Villach road.

  Since I had no plan of action, to open the road, if we could, seemed plainly the first thing to do; and, with this intent, we picked our way to the river and started to hug its edge, in order to give the junction as wide a berth as we could.

  We had reached a point opposite the junction, and, from where I was standing, I could see the pale smear which the Villach road made upon the black of the night, when I felt Bell’s fingers close upon my arm. I suppose his grip was tell-tale, for, though he breathed no word, in that instant I certainly knew that the worst had happened, and that Hanbury had lost his race.

  So we stood, still as death, for five seconds; then I heard the brush of a tyre, as it rounded a hairpin bend.

  I have heard it said that, though the approach of a crisis is apt to scatter the wits, its sudden descent will sometimes whip them back into a battle array. So it was with me at that moment, for, though for a quarter of an hour I had been groping feverishly, my disorder suddenly left me, and I saw as clear as daylight what I must do.

  At once I drew my pistol and fired twice across the road.

  I thought the consequent din would never die; but at last the echoes faded, and we were able to listen for lesser sounds.

  The Rolls had stopped.

  Now, though we had ruined the ambush, there was still the devil to pay, for I knew the way was too narrow to let the Rolls go about, and that to reverse in such darkness along so crooked a road was out of the question. But it suddenly came to my mind that if Mansel were to switch on his headlights and run for it towards Lerai, that is to say turn to the left at the junction, we should be out of the wood; for the thieves would almost certainly suffer the car to go by in the full expectation that she would be wrecked by the rope. I, therefore, decided to join Mansel as quickly as ever I could and, whispering to Bell to follow, hastened across the foreshore and on to the road.

  Pitch-dark though it was, I dared not go directly by way of the Villach road, and we had just started back towards Lerai, when I heard the deep breath of an engine, and then the Rolls coming, with the rush of a mighty wind.

  Mansel had divined the best course, and was making his dash. And all would be well, provided he turned to the left. If, at the junction, he turned to the right instead . . .

  I know that for one long moment my heart stood still.

  Then, throwing caution to the winds, Bell and I turned and raced for the second rope.

  The junction was now bright as day, and the car was so close that, had there been nothing to gain, I should not have crossed its path, but have waited for it to go by. I found myself praying that Mansel would turn to the left. As he swooped at the corner I ran clean into the rope, but the Rolls was round and coming before I had opened Bell’s knife. I slashed at the rope like a madman, but before I could cut it right through the car swept by, and, ripping it out of my hand, mercifully snapped asunder such strands as were left.

  As we ran in the wake of the Rolls, I heard an ejaculation and then a spurt of high words, but, though I was sure I heard Ellis, I could not distinguish Rose Noble’s voice.

  The Rolls had vanished, and I was beginning to wonder whether it would not be wiser to let Bell go on, while I returned to see what the thieves were doing and, if I could, meet Hanbury, when Mansel rose out of the shadows and spoke my name.

  I told him my tale.

  “I’m much obliged,” he said quietly. “You were up against time and the thieves, and you beat them both. When I am so placed, I hope I shall do as well. I think it likely that Hanbury missed his way; it’s very hard to go straight on a night like this. And that’s why we must get back. Your shots will bring him to the junction, and we don’t want an accident.”

  With that, he showed us the boat and the sculls in a ditch, and proposed to take to the water and scull down stream.

  “For the way of a river,” said he, “is swift and safe and silent, and I was a fool not to have used it before.”

  In this he was unfair to himself, for the relief nowadays took up the best part of an hour, four water-journeys having to be made each night, and, if these journeys had been considerably lengthened, we should have been worn out before we could get to bed.

  Then he told us that the Rolls was gone, and would not come back that way; but that Carson had orders to be at the culvert at three, and, if no one of us came before four o’clock, to return to Salzburg. Before he went, he would leave a note wedged in the brickwork, to say he was safe, and when twenty-four hours had gone by, he would come there again. So he would continue to do, until one of us came to meet him or he found a no
te under the arch.

  “And now for Hanbury,” said Mansel: “and then for the oubliette.”

  We slipped down the river noiselessly, and, when we approached the bend, at a signal from Mansel, Bell, who was rowing, rested upon his oars. We could hear no sound at all, and, after drifting for a moment, Mansel whispered to Bell to head for the shoot.

  So thick was the darkness that Bell, not unnaturally, sculled to the side of the stream and, when he could make out the bank, began to follow this down.

  We had just passed the slope of the woods and come to the cliff, when a torch was flashed twice from the bank five paces away. Before we could think, came two flashes from the opposite side.

  And that was all.

  At once Bell lay on his oars; but, after listening intently, Mansel bade him scull for the shoot.

  Almost at once we were there, and Mansel put up a hand and rang the bell.

  So soon as the flap was lifted:

  “Listen, Rowley,” says Mansel, putting his mouth to the shoot. “Is Mr. Hanbury with you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Have you anything to report?”

  “Two flashes a moment ago, sir; but nothing else.”

  Mansel turned to me.

  “William,” he said, “I don’t think we’re out of the wood. To be perfectly honest, I’m altogether at sea. I know neither what to do nor what to think. But what bothers me most of all is—where is Rose Noble? That being so, I’d rather you held the fort. So you go up, and send Rowley down to me. And then we’ll go and find George.”

  I did not at all relish the prospect of garrison duty at such a time; for, if trouble was coming, to be mewed up within sound of the skirmish would be well-nigh unbearable. But, since I had nothing to plead but my own reluctance, I stripped with what haste I could, and, two minutes later, Rowley had taken my place.

  The night was so dark and so still that, for a moment, I thought the windows were shuttered, and was stupidly astonished to find the timbers gone; and, when I looked out, I might have been gazing into a bottomless pit. However, I took my seat in the middle embrasure and, cupping my chin in my palm, stared resolutely into the darkness, with my ears pricked to gather the faintest sound. But all I could hear was the regular lap of the water against the face of the cliff.

  It had all along been in my mind that Mansel and Hanbury would cross; and, when, but a short five minutes after the former had left, the bell from the shoot announced the latter’s return, I was less surprised than provoked by this well-worn trick of fortune; for there was Mansel gone out on a sleeveless errand into the midst of some danger he could not read, and that at a time when the last thing we needed to do was to play the spy and everything was to be gained by lying close below ground.

  However, the milk was spilt; and, since to tread water is a laborious exercise, I lost no time in setting aside the flap and letting the ladder down.

  It was immediately clear that George was very near spent, for, when I called to him he had not the breath to answer and when at last he was fairly upon the ladder, he hung there, panting, like a dog on a sultry day. I asked if I should come down, but he took no notice, and, after a little while, he began to ascend. I was alarmed by his demeanour, which was that of the survivor of some catastrophe, and, squatting down at the head of the ladder, reached out my hands to help him out of the shoot.

  Now, I had intended to set my hands under his arms, but the moment I touched him he threw an arm round my neck. To save myself from falling I instinctively flung myself back and, since in that instant he heaved, the two of us fell down together on to the flags.

  “Thanks very much,” said Rose Noble.

  Then I felt the mouth of a pistol pressed tight against my throat.

  I can never describe the disgust and the horror I felt; but the brain is a curious member, and, as I lay there on the pavement, with the bulk of his body upon me, I could not help thinking that Rose Noble’s ascent of the shoot was a remarkable feat for a man of his corpulent habit, and wondering how he had made it without the support of an oath.

  He was lightly clad, but the clothes he was wearing were drenched; and the absurd conceit that I was in the clutches of some aquatic monster was most repugnant. Nevertheless, I had the sense to lie still; and, after a little, Rose Noble got to his knees.

  For a moment he fumbled; then the bright eye of a torch illumined the chamber.

  At this my heart leaped up, for had he desired to appraise Mansel of his entry, he could not have found a surer or swifter way; for all three windows were open, and their sudden radiance was bound to publish my plight.

  Rose Noble got to his feet and bade me do the same. I was glad to obey. Then he stepped back and looked about him.

  “So,” he said, after a while. Then he leaned forward and spoke down the shoot. “Bunch.”

  “Hullo,” said Bunch from below.

  “You saw me ring that bell?”

  “Yes,” said Bunch.

  “Fetch Ellis and Job over here. When you’re back, ring three times.”

  “Right-o.”

  Rose Noble straightened his back. “Pull up that ladder,” he said.

  “Not on your life,” said I. “You’ve come to the wrong house.”

  I could hardly see him, for the light was full in my face, but I felt his eyes upon mine.

  At length he took a deep breath.

  Then:

  “Stand back,” he said, thickly.

  I did so, folding my arms.

  At once he straddled the shoot, and, putting the torch in his teeth, with his free hand felt for the ladder and pulled it up. Then he picked up the flap and sank this into its place.

  This show of strength surprised me, for the flap was very heavy, and I would never have believed that a man so fat and flabby could have made light of such a task.

  Rose Noble took the torch from his mouth and leaned his back against the wall.

  “When Ellis comes,” said he, “I shall ask you to show us around. I like to think that you will grant that request.” I said nothing, and after a moment he continued slowly enough. “Nobody likes getting stuck; but, when he’s stuck good and proper, the wise guy swallows his dose. And now, listen to me, you young fool. I’ve taken possession here, and here I stay, so long as I stay, Mansel will remain outside; he’s very welcome to get up that drain—if he can; but, short of the ladder, I don’t believe he’ll try. If he wants the well, he can have it, but I rather fancy he’ll be thinking more about you—they say blood’s thicker than water . . . Well, he’s welcome to think. If he asks me, I haven’t seen you; I found the ladder waiting and came right up.”

  “D’you think he’ll believe you?” said I.

  “Why not?” said Rose Noble.

  I had no answer to make, for, as I spoke, I saw the force of his words. Here truth was stranger than fiction; and Mansel would never believe that I had handed him in.

  “And so,” said Rose Noble quietly, “I guess we can count Mansel out.”

  “Don’t you believe it,” said I. “He’s made rings round you in the past, and he’ll do it again.”

  “Maybe he will,” said Rose Noble. “But unless and until he does, I reckon it’s up to you.”

  “Indubitably,” said I.

  Rose Noble sighed.

  “No fool like a young fool,” he said. Then he leaned forward. “Why put me up, when you haven’t a card in your hand?”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Much cry, but little wool,” said I. “Come to the point. Are you trying to do a deal?”

  “Yes,” said Rose Noble. “I am. Maybe it’s a shade one-sided; but you gave it that name.” He jerked his torch at the ramp which led to the oubliette. “I’ve yet to see these diggings; but I haven’t played ‘King o’ the Castle’ for a whole raft of years, and I guess it’ll save us all time if you give me the book of the rules. In return, I offer you a painless captivity, a hell of a lot of hard work, and a free pass-out three days after we tou
ch.”

  I laughed.

  “It is one-sided,” said I, as cheerfully as I could.

  “These sort of deals often are,” was the grim reply.

  I could not think what to do.

  I was unarmed, for I had left my pistol for Rowley when he had taken my place; the other fire-arms hung upon a wall of the chamber, all of them loaded, but all of them out of my reach. Yet, had they lain by my side, the fellow had me in check; and I knew that, were I to move, he would shoot me down. For all that, my case was nothing to what it must be when Ellis and Job were come. Till then, at least, we were but man to man; but, if Rose Noble was able to bring but one of them up, I was as good as lost; and so was our enterprise. That I must, therefore, take action before they could enter the shoot was very evident, and I saw at once that when he went to admit them was the moment to make my attempt. His torch, of course, was his blessing and my unspeakable curse; but for this we should have been better matched, for, though he had his pistol, I knew my way about and was, indeed, accustomed to moving in the gallery without any light. I, therefore, determined, somewhat desperately, that, when he stooped for the flap, by hook or by crook I must dash the torch from his mouth, and, if I could not there and then follow up this assault, at least to jump to one side and so out of his ken.

  And here it came to me that, so far as his torch was concerned, my luck was indeed dead out; for if ever any one of us went up or down the shoot without saving his torch from the water, whether because he forgot it or took the chance, so surely that torch was useless and would give no glimmer of light until it had been looked to and its battery changed.

  So we stood, with the flap between us, I trying to watch Rose Noble behind the glare of the torch, he with his eyes upon mine, and both of us, I fancy, awaiting the throb of the bell.

  At length:

  “Well,” said Rose Noble.

  I moistened my lips.

  “There’s nothing doing,” said I. “Of course, you can do me in, but it won’t help you. For one thing, I’m not going to talk; for another, I’ve nothing to say, for—believe me or not, as you please—it’s Mansel and Hanbury together that do the sums. You talk about guys that get stuck, why, you’ve never been anything else. You’ve been stuck at the top of the well—”