Blind Corner and Perishable Goods Page 3

  I shall ever remember our dinner with Mansel, if for no other reason, because it is the solitary occasion upon which expectations which I knew it was foolish to harbour have been so startlingly exceeded.

  He gave us a short dinner, which was very well cooked and served, and we drank a pink champagne, which I believe was a very rare wine though I fear that neither Hanbury nor I was old enough to appreciate its quality, but only the fact that Mansel was doing us honour. Throughout the meal our venture was not mentioned, except that he said he was glad that we liked the men he had sent, and we talked for the most part of Oxford, “which,” he said, “is the only place in the world where a man may eat his cake and have it too, for the years he wastes there are beyond measure profitable.”

  It was after the cloth had been drawn and the servants had left the room that he told us quietly that all had “panned out” very well, and that, if we had no objection, we would start in two days’ time. Before we had recovered from our astonishment, he began to relate exactly what he had done, wasting no words and in no way pretending to authority, but, when they were not apparent, giving his reasons for his actions and speaking as though he were a staff-officer reporting to his equal or senior the measures which he had taken in accordance with orders received. The manifest excellence of his forethought apart, how he had accomplished so much was a sheer mystery to me and ever will be, for I never in my life saw him hurry or use the telephone, and he had spent the week-end in Hampshire, as he always did when living at Cleveland Row.

  Be that as it may, our preparations were complete, and we were to start on Thursday, that is, in two days’ time.

  I will not set down his tale of the arrangements he had made, because they will presently appear, but will only say that the servants were to take our baggage to a hotel at Salzburg, that we were to travel to the same town by car, and that such as might desire to know our business were told that Mansel was a great trout-fisherman and that we were all three bound for the streams of Carinthia to see what could be done in that quarter.

  And here I may say that anyone who was told this was shown one side of the truth, for Mansel was more fond of fishing than of almost anything else, and Hanbury and I learned our first lessons in the art of angling not very far from Wagensburg itself.

  That his preparations had involved a certain outlay was clear, but, when we spoke of money and stammeringly asked to be allowed to contribute towards the expense, Mansel said that such matters could wait until the treasure was found: however, on our persisting, he promised to keep an account and to consider two-thirds of all that he was expending as our affair.

  Then we gave him our passports, for he was to look them over and have them ordered to his liking.

  After that he brought out the well-digger’s statement and the map we had made, and, when we had studied them both for as long as we pleased, he sealed them up in an envelope and asked me the name of my Bank. I told him. Then he wrote upon the envelope:

  171016. This is the property of Richard William Chandos, and is lodged for safe custody with the Manager of the Pall Mall Branch of—’s Bank.

  and gave it to me.

  “You must lodge that to-morrow,” he said, “and see that you get a receipt.”

  This I promised to do.

  Then, of course, we fell to talking of our venture, but, after telling us something of the country in the heart of which Wagensburg lay—for, though he did not know the castle, he had stayed in those parts for one summer before the War—Mansel began to speak of trout and trout-fishing and very soon had us engrossed in what he said, which, I think, was just what he wanted, for, if we were to set up for fishermen, it was as well that we should know something of the art. And from trout he led us to streams, and from streams to rivers, and thence, naturally, again to Oxford, and there we stayed very contentedly until it was time for us to go.

  At ten on Thursday morning we were to meet again—an engagement which Hanbury and I would not have missed or exchanged for one of the very bags which the Count had borne down the well, for there we were to get into Mansel’s Rolls-Royce and drive with him to Dover and so, by France and Germany, clean into Carinthia.

  Yet, as it happened, we did not keep that engagement, and the plans which Mansel had laid were unfulfilled; and the whole face of our adventure was changed in the twinkling of an eye, before it was ever begun. And all this, because I stopped in the street to look into a window.

  2. The Way to Wagensburg

  It was the next morning when I was walking down St. James’s Street on my way to the Bank, that I stopped to glance at the maps which were spread in a shop-window. I had done so many times before, for I often went by that way and, though I am no geographer, a map or a plan has for me some attraction to which I invariably yield. I had taken my look and was just about to pass on when I suddenly observed before me a map of Southern Austria, drawn to a large scale.

  I was naturally most interested and at once began to look for Wagensburg, for so large was the scale that the property might well have been marked: but, though I soon saw Villach, most of the names were not at all easy to read, for the country was plainly very mountainous and the lettering was often lost against the heavy shading of the heights. For all that, if I could have gone closer I think I might soon have found the name I was seeking, but the map was some way from the glass, and I could not even stand fairly in front of it, because of another idler, who was standing before the window, regarding its wares. I waited a moment or two, expecting that he would pass on, but he did not, so I approached my face as close to the pane as I could without flattening my nose, in one last endeavour to locate the castle before I gave up the attempt. At this, the other seemed to notice my presence and turned to look at me, and, when instinctively I glanced at him, I saw that it was Ellis himself.

  I do not know which of us was the more taken aback, but Ellis was the first to recover and turn away. For myself, I stood gaping and staring after him, as he walked rather jerkily away towards Piccadilly.

  My first impulse was to follow him, though what good that would have done I do not know: and indeed I started uncertainly to hasten up the street in his wake; but what design I had was soon frustrated, for he entered a cab which was crawling close to the kerb and was instantly driven away.

  I have often wondered what would have been his feelings if he had known of the statement which lay in my breast-pocket, while we were shoulder to shoulder before the window, and whether he would not have made some desperate attempt to possess himself of the document there and then; and, all things considered, I verily believe he would have tried, for, because of that paper, he had already put his neck in a noose, and, as the saying is, a man may “as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.”

  The disappearance of Ellis must have restored my wits, for I realized in a flash that the first thing which I must do was to inform Mansel. I, therefore, ran down the street to Cleveland Row and happily found him in the act of leaving his flat.

  Directly he saw me, he turned, and I followed him through his hall and into the dining-room.

  “Yes?” he said shortly.

  I told my tale, and he frowned.

  “I don’t know whether this is good luck or bad,” he said. “But I think it’s bad luck. Anyway we must take no chances.” He thought for a moment there. Then he went on: “Ellis now knows for certain that Wagensburg interests you. If your excitement was apparent, he may even suspect that you hold the secret itself. That you made no attempt to detain him wouldn’t weigh much with me, because a good many people would hesitate to seize a man in the West End for a murder which nobody knows has been committed in France; but he would probably ascribe your failure to reluctance to court inquiry. So I’m glad you followed him.”

  “I expect the cab had a back window,” said Mansel. “Any way, Ellis will act. He may even try to watch.” He took out his case and lighted a cigarette. “I’d like you and Hanbury to take the boat-train tomorrow. And I’ll go over tonight.” />
  Then he gave me careful directions, told me on no account to return to Cleveland Row and not to walk alone after dark.

  “You see,” he said, “you’ve lost Ellis, but you mustn’t make sure that Ellis has lost you. I rather expect he’s thinking of other things, but you never can tell. And those cabs can turn on sixpence.”

  As I walked down Pall Mall, I felt as though every step I took was marked by a hundred eyes.

  I lodged the envelope at the Bank, and then drove off to find Hanbury and tell him of the change in our plans. Then we went out together and bought two tickets to Paris for the following day.

  I do not suppose two men ever used their eyes as we did from then until we saw Mansel again; and that, I imagine, was just what Mansel wanted, for, although I do not think he thought it likely that I should be followed, he would have been very glad to know what Ellis was doing and whether the man was alone or going to work with a gang. But Hanbury and I proved broken reeds, and, when we rejoined him, we had nothing at all to report; and this shows of how much use we were, for it afterwards appeared that Ellis had turned at the top of St. James’s Street and had driven back to see me turn into Cleveland Row, that I had been followed to the Bank, to Hanbury’s father’s house and to Cook’s office, and that it was only at Boulogne that touch with me had been lost. And for that relief we had Mansel’s prevision to thank.

  At four that afternoon the commissionaire attached to my Club brought me my passport and took away all my luggage, both light and heavy; and, when I left Town the next morning, the suit-case I took with me held nothing but worn-out clothes, for which I had no use. Of Hanbury the same can be said. We left by the morning train, and came to Boulogne about noon of a beautiful day. We were soon off the boat and, since we had reserved no seats in the Paris train, we made a fuss of securing the ones we wanted as well as a table for the first luncheon to be served. When our luggage was up on the rack and the porters had been dismissed, we strolled up and down the platform, like everyone else, but, after a little, we wandered on to the quay and presently out of sight.

  We made our way to a tavern in the heart of the town, and there found Mansel’s Rolls-Royce, and, within, Mansel himself, smoking and drinking beer, and arguing with the host about the Battle of the Somme. He had come that day from Dieppe.

  He seemed very pleased to see us, and ordered luncheon at once, “for,” said he, “I want to be in Strasbourg by dawn, and lie up there for the day. I was watched out of London last night, and, though they’ve lost me now, they’ll probably make a fresh cast.”

  “But what could they do,” said Hanbury, “if they pick you up on the road?”

  “Why, what they have done,” said Mansel, “not very far from Chartres. Don’t forget,” he added, “that we three hold the secret which that man held. And I think Ellis thinks we do.”

  And there, I think, for the first time, it came to me how great was the power of those two leather bags which lay in the chamber of the great well, and I seemed to see them as impassive, relentless twin gods, bringing this man to death and holding that man for the gallows and sending another four or five pelting across a continent, like so many thieves in the night, to God knows what fortune, while, as for the hatred and malice and uncharitableness which they were inspiring, even the compilers of the Litany cannot have contemplated so poisonous a flow of soul. But, though it seemed very shocking, I felt very cheerful to think I was one of the “thieves,” and the thought of stealing a march upon men so bold and determined as Ellis and his friends, was like a glass of champagne.

  Whilst we were lunching, a basket was stocked with provisions against our journey and then tied up in two cloths because of the dust. Indeed, great attention was paid us by the people of the inn, who manifestly knew Mansel and thought the world of him.

  We all ate very well, while Mansel spoke of the car. Of this he was plainly proud, and I was surprised that he thought it wise to leave her alone in the street. I said so presently, when he laughed and asked me to fetch him a map which he had left on its seat. I went to do so and found the car guarded better than I had dreamed. As I leaned over the side, a small, white dog rose from the driver’s place, and, had I been the devil himself, I could not have been accorded a more hostile reception. The whole street rang with a storm of barking, and if I had taken the map, I should certainly have paid in blood for my capture. At this, Mansel appeared and, after making much of the terrier, a pure-bred Sealyham, picked him up out of the car and put him into my arms. I stroked and spoke to him, and presently he licked my face.

  “And now,” said Mansel, “he knows that you are my friend and will let you come and go and do as you please.”

  Then he called Hanbury and made him free of the dog’s confidence in the same way. After that, he asked me, if I had done eating, to stay in the car, because he wanted to give the Sealyham his lunch; for he set great store by the terrier, as was very proper, for I never saw a more attractive or intelligent dog. His name was Tester, and I believe, so fine was his instinct, that he understood every word that was said to him and many that were not; and I know that from that time on I was his most obedient servant, and he my very good friend; but more than that he never was, for Mansel was his master, and he knew no other.

  The car was a new model, and the coachwork had been carefully done. It was, as Mansel said, a true “touring” body, for though it was slim to look at, it had great capacity and was so constructed that two could sleep in it with ease and comfort, and, when it appeared to be empty, its hidden lockers concealed all manner of stuff not usually carried in cars, but invaluable to a pioneer. There were brandy and “first field-dressings,” a medicine-chest and bandages, lint and splints; but most important in my eyes was a little armoury of weapons and ammunition and handcuffs, “of which,” said Mansel, “I hope we shall have no need; but I like to think that they’re there.” Then he showed us that in the driver’s pocket he carried a heavy pistol, ready for use; and that, I think, completed my conviction that Ellis was trying to play a losing game and would very soon curse Wagensburg and the day he first heard its name.

  It was half past two when we left Boulogne for Strasbourg, and a wonderful journey it was. I sat with Mansel and Tester, and Hanbury sat behind. It had been raining a little, but was now very fine; the country through which we passed was agreeably fresh and blowing; and the car had the way of a swallow in the air. Mansel drove very fast, without seeming to do so, and maintained an average of forty-five to the hour with astonishing precision. He neither hurried through towns nor showed any inconsideration to man or beast upon the road, but such time as he lost on this account he won when the road was open without any fuss, for the car was willing, and he was a remarkable judge of pace and distance, and, while he was yet a great way from some predicament, could tell to a hair what was within his power; and that is more than most men can do.

  When evening came and we began to see cows being driven home, we turned down a lane and stopped. Then Mansel and Hanbury alighted and took Tester for a stroll, whilst I stayed with the car and prepared our supper. This we ate easily, for we were to stay there an hour. Except to take in petrol, we did not stop again till we came to Strasbourg; and that was at one o’clock. There was a fine moon, and I remember looking up sleepily to see how the old cathedral was lacking one of its spires. We chose a small hotel in an unimportant street, and only two rooms were taken, for Mansel slept in the car in a garden at the back of the inn.

  We had reached Strasbourg sooner than Mansel had expected, and, though he had intended to stay in that city till dusk, the thought of wasting the whole of a valuable day was more than he could endure, and by nine o’clock of that morning we were again upon the road.

  Our way now lay through the Black Forest and was at times most solitary. Mansel drove with his ears pricked, and if ever I spoke, begged me to hold my tongue; but I could not share his vigilance and, when we stopped for a moment by the side of the way, asked him how Ellis could have had time t
o contrive our Pursuit or attack.

  His reply was unanswerable.

  I could have done it,” he said, “with luck and money and friends, and, though the first can’t be bought, the other two can. Ellis had a secret to sell. Be sure he’s sold it, for he couldn’t fight us alone. Therefore, he has money and friends. And, since the Castle of Wagensburg is plainly everyone’s way, not to look out for us would be the act of a fool. They know that we’re going direct, because we’ve no time to spare. That suggests Strasbourg. So somebody flies to Paris and gets to Strasbourg some hours ahead of us. They can’t watch a city, but they can watch the frontier posts. And, don’t forget, buried treasure is the very deuce of a goad.”

  As he spoke, a very faint sound came to our ears.

  It was the high-pitched note of a powerful electric horn, as yet some distance away and between us and Strasbourg.

  Mansel had the Rolls moving before I was well in my seat, and we were very soon doing some sixty odd miles to the hour, but the next time I heard the horn it sounded much closer, and, after a moment, Mansel slackened his speed and let a closed car go by. He was very careful, however, to keep this in sight, and when, two or three miles on, we saw it slow down and stop in the middle of the road, he asked me to fasten Tester to a short chain which was attached to the coachwork close to my feet.

  As we approached, a man who had alighted from the car spread out his arms as a signal to us to stop, not in a peremptory manner, but rather as does a man who is in need of assistance. Mansel waved in reply and applied his brakes, but he overran the closed car by nearly a hundred yards, before bringing the Rolls to rest on the crown of the road.

  Then we turned round in our seats and waited for the stranger to move.

  For a while he seemed to be expecting that we should come back, but, when it was quite evident that we were not going to move, he spoke for a moment with someone within the car and then began to walk in our direction.