Blind Corner and Perishable Goods Page 4

  “Hanbury,” said Mansel quietly, “watch that car. The moment it moves, ask Chandos to give you a match.”

  The stranger was wearing dark glasses, which he did not remove; his hair was fair and his complexion ruddy. He was not very tall, and his hands were coarse and rough. He walked jauntily and wore his hat on one side.

  As he came up, he gave us “Good day” in French, and then very haltingly inquired if any one of us could speak English.

  “We are English,” said Mansel.

  “Why, that’s fine,” said the other. Then very calmly he asked us to come back and look at his car, “for,” said he, “she seems to be nearly red-hot, and none of us knows enough to change a wheel.”

  “If she’s so hot,” said Mansel, “no one can help you at all for half an hour. I should open both sides of the bonnet and push her into the shade. I’ll send you help from the very next garage I pass.”

  “Now be a sport,” said the stranger, laying a hand on the Rolls and casually lifting his hat. “Come an’ ’ave a look at the swine.”

  Bill,” said Hanbury to me, “give me a match.” Shall I send you help?” said Mansel, as the Rolls began to move.

  The stranger’s answer was to try to apply the handbrake, but, as he was feeling for the lever, I hit him under the jaw, and he fell back into the road.

  Then the Rolls shot forward, and, as I was unready, I fell myself upon Mansel, who was laughing like a child at a circus, while Tester was barking uproariously and trying to burst his chain, and Hanbury was kneeling on the back seat, shouting “Gone away” and making derisive gestures with both hands.

  Before I had got my balance, the closed car was out of sight, but Hanbury told us, with tears, that its occupants’ haste to alight, before it had stopped, had done as much damage as I, for that, as a man was descending from the front of the car, someone behind him flung open the second door and that this hit the one in the back and knocked him down and then returned upon the other, who was himself half-way out. So it seemed that we had had very much the best of the brush and that Ellis and his friends had gained nothing but a couple of heavy falls; but Mansel, when he had done laughing, began to frown, “because,” said he, “though I’d sooner be before than behind them, I’d very much sooner not be on their road at all. Too many ‘circumstances over which one has no control’ on the road today.”

  The words were hardly out of his mouth, when we rounded a bend to see a level-crossing ahead. And the barriers were down.

  When we were very near, Mansel stopped and Hanbury and I leaped out. At once, as there was no keeper we endeavoured to raise the poles, but these had been lowered by machinery, controlled, I suppose, by some distant signalman, and were fast locked into place.

  “Never mind,” said Mansel quietly, stepping out o! the driver’s seat. “Chandos, you take my place, and Hanbury, sit by his side.”

  With that, he climbed into the back and lighted a cigarette.

  We did as he said, and, the engine running, I sat with my hand on the lever and my foot on the clutch wondering what was to happen and reflecting rather dismally that we had laughed too soon.

  It was a quiet place, and the sunshine was very hot. Except for the murmur of the engine, there was no sound at all.

  So we sat, waiting for the train or the closed car.

  Two minutes must have gone by before the latter appeared, rounding the bend like fury and raising a storm of dust.

  “Don’t start till I say so,” said Mansel, and slewed himself round on the seat.

  The road was none too wide, and we were full on the crown.

  With my eyes on the driving mirror, I saw the car approach.

  It was in the driver’s mind to thrust alongside, but, if he had done so, he could not have crossed the metals, for the gate was less wide than the road; so he brought his car to rest behind us and a little to the right.

  “If anyone moves,” said Mansel, “I’m going to fire.” The windows of the car were open, so they heard what he said. “You’ve tried to stop me by force and you’ve pursued me; and at the first town I come to I’m going to prefer a charge. My papers are all in order; I’ve a licence to carry a pistol; and my luggage is in the car. Perhaps you can say the same. If you can’t, you’ll be detained—pending inquiries.”

  Bluff,” said someone.

  Then call it,” said Mansel.

  You’ve assaulted us,” said another. “I asked you a civil question, an’ you slogged me under the jaw. An’ you talk about the police.”

  “Yes,” said Mansel, “I do. Because my record’s clean. Then again, I speak German quite well; and that’s a great help.”

  “Bluff,” said the first speaker. “You know as well as I do that you won’t go to the police. You can’t afford to.”

  “If you mean,” said Mansel, “that I don’t want to waste my time, that’s perfectly true.”

  “I don’t,” said the other. “I meant that, much as you like ’em, the last thing you want just now is to catch the eye of the police.”

  Mansel raised his eyebrows.

  “I’m not going to argue,” he said, “but I can’t help thinking that you’re mistaking me for somebody else. Excuse me,” and, with that, he fired.

  The silence which succeeded the explosion was that of the grave. I had, of course, jumped violently and now sat still in my seat, as if under a spell, though my heart was pounding like a labouring pump and I was expecting every instant the shock of battle. But this did not come. So far as I could see by the mirror, those in the closed car were sitting as still as I, and, after a moment or two, Mansel spoke again.

  “The next time anyone moves, I shall try to hit him,” he said. “And I think perhaps it would be better if you all four folded your arms. Thank you.”

  “Today to you,” said the man who had spoken last.

  “Indubitably,” said Mansel.

  Then we were left to our thoughts, and to wonder if ever the train was coming by.

  I was disquieted.

  Mansel had spoken boldly, but you cannot make bricks without straw, and the man who had taken him up was not even shaken, very much less deceived. For the moment we had them in check, but the changes and chances of the road were manifold, and, unless we could run right away, as like as not we should be cornered again. And the next time they would be more careful.

  It was while I was thinking of these things that I happened to lower my eyes to the mat at my feet, and there, beneath me, I saw an adjustable spanner. Mansel had used it that morning to tighten a bolt, and, in his haste, had omitted to put it away.

  Shakespeare had said somewhere that “the sight of means to do ill deeds, Makes deeds ill done.” So it was with the spanner. For directly I saw it, I thought that here was the means to spoil the petrol-tank of the closed car and so put the enemy out of action.

  I picked up the spanner, slid this into my pocket and turned to Hanbury.

  “Take my place,” I said quietly. “I’m going to disable their car.”

  Hanbury blinked once or twice and gulped as though he would protest, so soon as he found his tongue; but I opened my door and stepped out without more ado.

  I sauntered up to the barrier and glanced up and down the rails. Then I turned round and looked at the two cars.

  Hanbury was in my place and Mansel did not seem to have moved. He was sitting easily sideways, covering the car with his pistol and supporting his right wrist with his left arm. The four men, of whom Ellis was not one, were wearing blue glasses and sitting like images, with folded arms.

  I stepped to the radiator of the Rolls, unscrewed the cap and peered within. Then I frowned and, spanner plainly in hand, stooped as though to tighten the plug. After appearing and disappearing once or twice, I replaced the cap, still frowning, and disappeared again. A moment later I was beneath the car. It was a tight fit, but the pulse of the closed car’s engine covered the noise I made. I worked along on my back as best I could, until my head was level with the Rolls’
hind wheels. To pass from beneath the Rolls to beneath the closed car meant crossing about six feet of open road, but there was not more than a yard between the two cars’ wings, and, though, from where I lay, I could see the hat of the man beside the driver, I judged that, unless he moved, the strip of road I must pass was just out of his sight. So, since to see where I was going was now essential, I turned very gently upon my face and took a deep breath. Inch by inch I covered those six feet of open road, and I must admit that I did it with my heart in my mouth, for I could by no means be sure that I was not in some view, and, though I hoped for the best, once one of the enemy knew that I was beneath their car, pistol or no, it was most unlikely that they would make no attempt to learn my business.

  At last, however, it was over, and I was well out of sight and under the closed car.

  I turned again upon my back, and there I lay for a moment to get my breath, for the strain of moving so flat upon my face had been exhausting, and the heat and noise of the engine at such close quarters had been unpleasant. I was, too, half choked and blinded with the dust, which hereabouts lay very thick.

  As I was taking my rest, I became suddenly aware of a great noise, which was not that of the engine, but seemed to be coming upon me at a terrible speed. For an instant I lay paralysed, unable to think what it was. Then, in a flash, I knew it was the sound of the train for which we had waited so long.

  What would happen when it had gone by and the barriers rose, I did not stay to think. Indeed, I do not remember how I got to the tank, but I know that I was fumbling with the spanner and that the dust was falling thick into my mouth and eyes as the train roared on its way.

  The bottom of the tank was all encrusted with dirt, but I had this off in a twinkling and fitted the spanner to the plug. Twice I tried to move it, and twice it refused to budge, for I do not think it had ever been undone since the car was built, but had been painted over, so that its shape was half gone and it might not have been a plug at all, but only a knob.

  I had just reset the spanner, licked my hands and taken another hold, when a sudden, unmistakable clatter announced that the barriers were up.

  At once I heard Mansel’s voice.

  “Stand by, William,” he said, using my Christian name. And then: “I’m going now,” he continued, “to prefer my charge. From what you say I gather you’re going to follow, so we shall meet again.”

  He said more, but that was as much as I heard, for his words showed me something I had not dreamed of, namely, that he did not know that I was not still in the Rolls, but thought he was free to proceed, and—what was perhaps more serious—that upon this important point the four in the closed car were better informed than he.

  With these thoughts in my mind, I put forth all my strength, and I think any screw must have yielded to the frantic effort I made. The drain-plug gave way with a crack, and, after one or two turns, I felt the petrol running over my hands. I continued to work desperately, and, a moment later the plug fell out of its hole, and, with a soft gush, the spirit began to pour out into dust.

  I thrust the drain-plug into my pocket, because, without that, a hogshead of petrol would not avail the closed car, but she would have to be towed until she came to some place which boasted a lathe and a man sufficiently skilled to fashion a substitute. Then, regardless of the downpour of petrol, I scrambled clear of the car. As I did so, I heard Mansel raise his voice.

  “William,” he cried, “don’t look for it any more: we must have dropped it farther back.”

  I knew at once that Hanbury must have told him my errand, and that now he was giving me my cue: so, wondering how the inmates of the closed car would take my appearance, I stepped to the middle of the road, and then, waving the spanner, jogged cheerfully into view.

  As I came alongside:

  “Let her go,” said Mansel.

  Hanbury had set the door open, and the car was moving when I flung myself in. As the Rolls swept over the metals, I heard a shout of surprise, and this was immediately followed by a veritable bellow of rage, which I like to think showed that the occupants of the closed car accredited me with some malicious attempt upon its efficiency. And I think that in that I am right, for instead of pursuing, they all flung out of the car, and, when we sailed round a bend, they were behind their vehicle, which was standing apparently deserted, with all four doors open, to the side of the dusty road.

  Then Mansel took over the wheel, and I showed him and Hanbury the drain-plug and told my tale. Presently we ran through a village, where there was not so much as a forge, and a few miles further on we came to a smooth-flowing stream. Here Mansel gave me five minutes to strip and bathe, and, while I did so, Hanbury unpacked clean clothes for me to put on. When I came back to the car, they had opened three bottles of beer and drank my health in the most handsome fashion. But I think it is clear that, though anyone, who was not too fat, could have crawled underneath the two cars, only a great personality could have held four such villains at bay for nearly ten minutes and so brought us safe and sound out of so perilous a pass.

  We came to Salzburg that night, to find the three servants arrived and our rooms waiting; and here Mansel slept in a bed for the first time since he had left London, while Carson, his servant, lay in the car in his stead.

  The next day we breakfasted together in Hanbury’s room, and there, after we had eaten, a council was held.

  It was most probable that, if Wagensburg was in the market, some one of the agents in Salzburg had the castle upon his books; and, since Ellis had taken the field, at once to set about the purchase seemed plainly the best thing to do. Yet, to seek to buy property of such consequence without having so much as seen it, was out of the question, for not only should we be unable to judge the price we were asked, but such an astonishing action would be certain to arouse comment: and that was the last thing we desired.

  We, therefore, determined to devote the next day to a reconnaissance, in the course of which we should explore the country round Wagensburg, and, if it was vacant, the property itself. We should then, at least, be qualified to play the part of people so much attracted y a domain as to desire to own it, and, though an agent might think we had more money than brains, it was unlikely that he would look for any deeper explanation of our eagerness.

  Another thing we decided was to purchase a second car. Sooner or later we must have one, for the Rolls could not hold six as well as baggage, and it might well prove worse than inconvenient to break our party in two. And, since to carry out the reconnaissance in some car less distinctive than the Rolls might be to our advantage, we determined to make our purchase before we did anything else.

  Then Mansel requested Hanbury to stay in Salzburg, while he and I and Carson went out alone. It was a big thing to ask, but Hanbury immediately agreed in the most handsome way, insisting that he would be better employed in caring for the Rolls after her long run than in making a fourth in what was “a three-men job.” But Mansel made him promise not to go out alone, but always to take with him one of the other servants, when he left the hotel.

  By mid-day we had a car. It was not new, but had been carefully used, and had only come to be sold the day before. It bore a well-known name, was swift and very well found, and, after putting it to several tests, Mansel drove to a Bank and paid the price we were asked without more ado.

  Then we ate a short luncheon, bade Hanbury goodbye, and, taking Carson and Tester, left for Carinthia soon after one o’clock.

  It was a notable run. The country was mountainous, and the scenery superb; the further South we went the more picturesque became the way, and the villages grew less frequent and more and more unspoiled.

  Everywhere there were woods and forests, high and low, and, among them, streams and pastures and an occasional farm, with a saucer on every ridge-pole to keep the witches away.

  About sundown we came to a village that Mansel knew.

  There was but one inn, and that did not look as if it had much to offer, although, to judge
by its size and style, it must once have been a house of some importance and have served people of quality. But, as it turned out, I was never better lodged in my life; for I slept in a great four-poster amid furniture which must have been of great value; my huge room was spotless; the linen was unusually fine and smelt very sweet of some herbs, with which it had been laid away; and the attendance was such as, I imagine, travellers used to hope for a hundred years ago. The fare, too, was excellent—trout, and an omelet and most delicious bread, with plenty of fresh fruit and cream; and, since there was no garage or coach-house, they opened the great doors that belonged to the house itself, and Mansel drove the car into a vast, flagged hall, to the great entertainment of the regular customers of the inn, who were there gathered drinking, before they went to their beds.

  We were on the road the next morning by six o’clock, and before it was seven we had sighted Wagensburg.

  We had stopped for a moment by the way to study the map, and I was trying to determine exactly which road we were using, when Mansel gave a light laugh and touched me upon the arm.

  I followed his gaze.

  He was looking up over his shoulder at a range of high woods which fell sharply to a river. At one point a bend of the river bit into the line of the woods, and above the bend rose a cliff, some hundred and fifty feet high. And on the edge of the cliff stood a castle wall.

  Neither of us said anything; but, after a little, Mansel started the engine and I put away the map.

  Three miles farther on we came to the village of Lerai, where was a bridge. We stopped at the inn there and ordered breakfast, and, while this was being prepared, Mansel talked with the host.

  All that we wanted to know, the latter told him, Wagensburg was to be sold: the village postmaster held the keys of the house: no one had viewed the property since it had been for sale. And, when Mansel said he should like to see the castle, the innkeeper called for his hat and set out to find the postmaster and ask for the keys.