Palfrey opened the door. His heart was unsteady and his fingers trembled as he touched the handle. He looked into the semi-darkness of a room beyond, and called out in a high pitched voice: ‘Anyone there?’
It sounded ludicrous even in his own ears, and the echo came back to him. He called again, and immediately afterwards there was a flurry of movement. If some of Morne’s men had remained behind, anything might happen now.
‘Sap!’ cried a voice.
‘Carmichael!’ exclaimed Palfrey. His fears dropped away, and he hurried forward. ‘Where are you?’ He had recognized the voice, but could not see Carmichael. ‘Where – ’
Carmichael stepped forward into the light. Trollop followed him, and immediately afterwards the outer room seemed filled with men. Some were in police uniform, there were a few in khaki battle-dress, and several men in lounge suits. All of them stared at Palfrey incredulously.
Palfrey said: ‘Who fired that gun?’
‘I did,’ said a man in Service uniform. He sounded a little sheepish. ‘I saw something move.’
‘Well, I shouldn’t fire, whatever you see,’ said Palfrey. ‘There’s an explosive somewhere here that might go off if we play tricks, and that wouldn’t be healthy.’
Carmichael said: ‘They know what it is, Palfrey.’
‘Oh,’ said Palfrey. He pulled himself together as a youthful major came forward. ‘We’ve quite a job,’ he said. ‘Hidden somewhere in the next room is the container which is set to go off at six o’clock or earlier.’ He saw men flinch at the word ‘earlier’. ‘Even when we find it, I don’t know that we can do much about it,’ he added, ‘except take it out on to the moor and get away as quickly as we can,’
The major said: ‘We’ll have a try, anyhow.’
‘Kyle knows what the thing looks like,’ Palfrey said, and Kyle waved from his chair. ‘Do you know about what is happening outside, major?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said the major. ‘What about Morne? Have you got him?’
‘No. But I know where he’s gone.’
‘We’ll have to get after him, too,’ said the major.
Palfrey said: ‘Yes. Two parties.’
It was surprising how much better he felt now that the others were here. It was good to hear the major give orders precisely and to see his men obey without question. A party of twelve, including four policemen, Palfrey and McDonald, was to set out in the electric truck after Morne. The others would stay in the laboratory; some were already searching, under the supervision of a little, sharp-featured man from the Wenlock police station.
As Palfrey waited for the trucks to start, anxious thoughts filled his mind.
Would they find the bomb; and could they get it far enough away in time?
Was there any reason to think that it would be greatly different from other bombs? Could bomb-disposal men hope to work successfully on it? Could anyone be found who would know how to dismantle it?
Carmichael did a great deal of talking, the gist of which was that he and Trollop had wandered about the foothills near the old entrance to the mine and eventually seen lights moving in the distance. Closer inspection had revealed what Palfrey had long suspected – a second shaft sunk to the mine. The machinery had been slightly damaged, but the major’s men had repaired it quickly, and the party had arrived almost at the same time as Palfrey and the others.
The trucks moved off, hurtling through the darkness, without any attempt to drive slowly and quietly. McDonald sat at the wheel, with Palfrey next to him. Two other men were sitting at the back.
They came upon a wide bay, where several trucks were standing empty. McDonald slowed down. All three trucks pulled up, and the men gathered together in the bay. In front of them was a semi-circular wall with two doors; they could not see any light at all.
Palfrey led the way to one door, a lieutenant to the other. Only Palfrey’s door was unlocked. He opened it gently and peered through.
No one appeared to be in the room beyond.
It was another great chamber, cut almost in two by a stretch of water nearly twenty yards across. The water was moving gently, and reflected the bright roof-lights and the figures of the men who approached. There were benches on either side; the room was a workshop, where, undoubtedly, repairs were carried out to submarines which had put in here. Palfrey wondered whether Morne had known about this place during the war. It was a perfect hide-out for U-boats. He had heard rumours of secret repair-shops off the Corshire coast even before Hardy had mentioned these suspicions. Certainly this workshop had been established for some time.
The water-cut led through a tunnel where there was a footpath on either side. The soft lapping of the water was the only sound.
Palfrey led the way on one side of the Water and peered ahead at another lighter chamber.
If Morne and his party were already at sea, what could happen?
They reached the second chamber. The ship was there.
They could see it some distance ahead, moored to the quayside. Roof-lights were shining on its glistening sides. Gangways were in position. There were several men on deck, and two or three people were standing on the quay. Someone on the ground was hidden from Palfrey, who kept as far back in the shadows as he could.
A man moved and Palfrey saw Loretta Morne on a stretcher. Her face was turned towards him, and he had never seen such a look of hopelessness.
Morne came out of the turret, walked slowly down the plank and looked at her. She returned his gaze and said something which Palfrey could not hear. Morne bent down and put a hand on her forehead. She spoke again, without removing her gaze. Morne slowly shook his head.
McDonald, just behind Palfrey, stirred a little. Palfrey touched his hand. Morne raised his voice, and two men picked up the stretcher.
‘They mustn’t take her down there!’ McDonald was almost frantic, and his voice was too loud. Palfrey expected Morne to look round, but there was no indication that they had been heard. The stretcher was raised. Morne stood watching,
Palfrey whispered: ‘They’ll never get away now, Mac. Don’t worry.’
Palfrey moved forward slowly. He stopped and whispered again.
‘I’m going forward before Morne goes aboard. I’ll get him into the water if I can. Four of you go to the other side. Remember, no shooting.’
Four men silently filed back.
Other things were being taken aboard. Suddenly, Markham appeared from behind a “stretch of wall which hid part of the quay from Palfrey. He glared at Morne, but went aboard without any outward protest. He stood on deck while Rachel walked past Morne.
Palfrey moved forward.
If they looked towards him now, they must see him. He went steadily, his hands held a little in front of him. He saw Rachel glance his way. She stiffened, then looked away again. The servants, only two of them clad in sea-going clothes, had gone behind the wall. Morne was standing with his back to Palfrey, quite unaware of any danger.
Then Markham looked his way.
Palfrey was ten feet from Morne by then, with hope high in his breast; but Markham cried: ‘Palfrey!’
Morne swung round.
Palfrey leapt at him. The man had no time to defend himself, no time to fend the attack off. They met – but Palfrey had underestimated Morne’s strength; he did not give way, only swayed back and flung his arms about his assailant. For a moment they stood struggling, while the men came rushing from behind the wall and Markham shouted orders.
That was the thing which impressed Palfrey most, even as he struggled: Markham gave orders.
Morne’s grip was powerful. Palfrey felt the breath being squeezed from his body. He was seeking Morne’s wrist. If he could get a proper grip, the man would be helpless. Markham and those on the quay had not seen anyone on the other side, but the four men were there, waiting at the water’s edge.
Palfrey got his grip; Morne gasped and his pressure slackened. Palfrey was just aware of men passing him going into the attack. He did not see Rachel McDonald leap from the deck to the quay. He did not see Morne’s men close with his own supporters. He was aware only of the fact that Morne was powerless in his grip, and that in Morne’s pocket were the vital papers.
He swung the helpless man round and caught a glimpse of his face. It was distorted with rage; there was malignance in his eyes, all the hatred that he could summon was focused on Palfrey. Remorselessly, Palfrey forced him towards the water’s edge. The sound of the struggle between the others was loud in the cavern.
Someone reached Palfrey’s side. ‘Take his coat, take his coat!’ It was Rachel McDonald. Palfrey said: ‘Pull that sleeve!’ Morne was still helpless in his grip; he tried to fend the woman off, but failed. She pulled off one sleeve, and the coat hung from one shoulder. Palfrey released Morne, pushed him suddenly away from him and grabbed the coat. Morne staggered and Rachel tripped him. He fell headlong into the water, and a wave came up over Palfrey’s legs and nearly made him lose his balance.
The coat was in his hand.
Men were spilling out of the submarine now, and Markham was rushing towards Palfrey. McDonald and his supporters were already outnumbered and struggling desperately – a fantastic struggle of armed men who dared not use their guns. Palfrey saw Markham coming, saw Rachel turn and block his path, crying: ‘Take the coat! Take the coat!’
But men were behind Palfrey now; McDonald was out, unconscious; two others were down, and there were men to spare to attack Palfrey. He rolled the coat and flung it as far as he could across the water. He saw his men standing with arms outstretched. Morne was still in the water, but swimming powerfully towards him. He did not see what happened to the coat.
Then Markham sent Rachel staggering to one side and leapt at Palfrey. They closed. The rush was so fierce that Palfrey went back helplessly. He was near the edge of the water, and felt himself toppling. Markham kept a hold on him and dragged him back.
Someone was crying, ‘The coat! The coat!’
Markham struck Palfrey across the face. Palfrey felt pain shoot through him and lost his balance. He went into the water as Morne began to climb on to the quay. He did not see Morne stop, turn and look at him; and he did not see the man plunge in after him again.
He did not see the men on the other side fish the coat out of the water and turn away. He was conscious only of the chilling coldness of the water, and a sudden twinge of cramp in his right leg. He reached the surface, drew in a gulp of air and went under again. Something brushed past him. When he came up for the second time he was more collected, and started to strike out for the side. He wanted now to help Rachel McDonald.
Something pressed against his back. A man was gripping the back of his neck and forcing him under.
He went down, not knowing whether he would be able to come up again, but the pressure relaxed under water, and with a wild heave he flung himself towards the bank. He broke water again, flung the hair out of his eyes; saw blurred figures on the quayside, some still struggling, and some watching. Then he heard a splash behind him.
Morne was there, reaching out for him again.
Palfrey went over on his side, turned on his back, kicked and caught him on the head, but not heavily enough to do any damage. Morne gripped his right arm.
Palfrey tugged desperately and Morne released his arm and grabbed at his neck. His fingers slid off the wet skin. Palfrey heaved, turned over and struck out for the bank on the other side. His ears were filled with loud, drumming noises; the cavern seemed to echo as if with thunder.
As with thunder. . .
The engines of the submarine were turning!
Then something touched his shoulder; he thought of Morne, and in a panic wrenched himself free. He was submerged for a moment, but came up again.
Someone cried: ‘Don’t struggle! Don’t struggle!’
There was something reassuring in that voice and he kept still. He felt someone take his shoulders and raise him. He could not help himself, but he knew that he was being dragged across the water to the far side. Another man was standing there, and bent down to help him. He collapsed on the quay, hardly conscious, hardly aware of thought. There were voices and that awful droning.
And a sharp explosion.
A shot!
He opened his eyes, but could see nothing beyond the water dripping from his forehead. Someone said: ‘Keep down!’ There was another shot; did the fool not realize what might happen?
He dashed his hair from his eyes, crouched low, and stared across the water. Markham was standing there, firing at him. There were two or three people in the water, and he wondered whether Morne was one of them.
He felt a bullet strike his thigh.
He gasped, and stopped moving, but stilt stared towards the far side. He saw Rachel McDonald get up from the ground and throw herself at Markham.
Markham. . . .
Someone shouted. Markham turned his head. The submarine was moving slowly; a man on the deck was beckoning Markham. Markham levelled his gun, the shot roared out, and Palfrey heard the bullet strike the floor near him. Then Markham turned and ran towards the submarine.
Morne was not aboard; Morne was somewhere in the water. But the ship was moving, and Markham was in control. The facts came to Palfrey in a vivid flash. Markham had all the time worked for this; was Kyle’s mystery man. Markham had known the truth and had waited, prepared to take over from Morne at the first opportunity. And this was his opportunity.
Markham reached the deck. The submarine was gathering speed. Somewhere within its cabins or holds were those ‘units’, those bombs which could be used to bring about such fearful destruction.
Palfrey tried to move; he succeeded only in flopping forward a few inches. The submarine was getting further away. He saw several men leap aboard, but none of Palfrey’s men; all Morne’s – or Markham’s.
Then Morne appeared!
He was swimming powerfully by the side of the ship. He reached her and hauled himself aboard. Markham was still staring at Palfrey, and noticed nothing. Two or three members of the crew helped Morne aboard, and still Markham seemed to notice nothing. Morne stood for a moment, his huge figure dripping water, his red hair glistening in the roof lights. He did not speak, but moved forward.
At last Markham realized that he was there.
Everyone on the quays was staring at the two men. Markham backed away. Morne stretched out his hand. His fist was clenched. Markham raised his gun, Morne knocked it aside with a contemptuous gesture, and then his hand shot out and gripped Markham’s throat. Palfrey could see the strength of his grip, saw Markham’s mouth open and his tongue protrude, saw his eyes bulging. The whole scene was moving away from Palfrey; and all the time the droning of the engines reverberated through the cavern.
Markham collapsed.
Morne maintained his pressure for a moment, and then flung the man into the water. As Markham fell and water splashed up over the deck, Morne seemed to shake himself, as if he had rid himself of something unclean. Then he stood quite still, looking at the quayside, looking towards Palfrey.
He was magnificent.
And he was getting away.
The submarine moved slowly towards another tunnel; it was half-way through and still Morne stood immovable, watching; when the deck reached the tunnel, his head was almost level with the roof, but he did not move.
He disappeared.
The droning of the engines was duller now.
Palfrey forced himself to look away. A man was bending over him, asking if he were all right, but he did not answer. How could anyone stop the submarine now?
There was a coat lying near him, sodden, shapeless; in the pockets was the formula, of Garth’s secret, but the bombs themselves were on board the submarine, and there was the one in the laboratory.
‘Look!’ cried someone on the other side of the water. ‘Look!’
As he spoke, men burst into sight from the tunnel from which Palfrey had come. The major led the way, Carmichael followed him, then the others who had been left in the laboratory streamed through. Rachel McDonald, on her feet now and approaching her son, started to talk and point. Palfrey saw the men streaming off in the wake of the ship; and for the first time, too, he saw a small motor-launch moored to the quayside. There were others on the far side that had at first been hidden by the submarine.
Palfrey croaked: ‘That launch – that launch!’
There was hope again, a faint flicker of hope which he dared not fan into flames.
Two men carried him to the boat, which rocked precariously, paining his wounded thigh. The others climbed in, and they started off just as another party in a larger boat on the opposite side began to move. They chugged through the darkness of the tunnel, unable to see anything at all, in imminent danger of collision, but soon there was light ahead of them and they saw that the larger boat had travelled fast.
The light looked unnatural.
They came out of the mouth of the tunnel, and saw that searchlights from ships standing out in the bay were all converging on the submarine. Small boats were moving towards it, and aeroplanes were flying across the bay, their lights shining down upon the water. The submarine itself, with Morne still on deck, was moving slowly, uncertainly. The great side of the cliff was above them, and behind them the small tunnel opening, like the mouth of a cave, which led to the workshops.
The small boats were nearing the submarine; one, much larger, was closing in on her. It was a destroyer, and Palfrey could see the men lining its deck, preparing to board. He watched the whole scene breathlessly; he saw the destroyer and the submarine touch; the submarine heeled over, then righted itself; and as it did so, men streamed aboard.
Morne moved; one moment he stood there in the blaze of light; the next he disappeared over the side. From the deck, Mrs. Bardie watched him.
Morne had gone and the submarine was stopped; the bay was seething with small craft, and aeroplanes still droned overhead. Palfrey felt the relief almost too much for him, but there was still anxiety in his heart. Had the bomb in the laboratory been found, and so released the men who had arrived just too late to prevent the submarine from leaving its berth? If so, where was that bomb now?
He was too tired to think.
The men with him said; ‘Had we better go back?’
‘No, we’d better head for Wenlock.’
‘Yes. I think so.’ The rest of the men in the boat were obviously relieved. Palfrey sat back as comfortably as he could and looked about him. Another, larger motor-boat drew near, and someone hailed him. It drew alongside, and he saw Kyle sitting in the bows, grinning.
‘Ahoy, Palfrey!’
Palfrey grinned back. ‘Did you find it?’
‘And dismantled it!’
What?
‘It’s a fact.’
Palfrey found himself laughing. . . .
It was half an hour before he reached the crowded quayside in Wenlock Bay. It was brightly lighted and thronged with that until that day. Morne had intended to take Markham away and deal with him at sea.
She told them that Gorringer had visited Morne House through the mine workings, and had been killed only two days before.
She told them that she had not known the truth about Garth, nor suspected it. She told them, too, that on the night of Palfrey’s arrival someone had tried to break into Morne House, and the servants, most of whom obeyed Morne with unquestioning loyalty – had gone after him with the hounds.
‘And what of Loretta?’ asked Palfrey.
‘I think that Loretta discovered a little, perhaps not all, and confided in Halsted, who sent for you,’ said Rachel. ‘I think Loretta was frightened of the thing which her father was doing, but would not openly betray him.’
Later, Kyle was wheeled along. He was bright and cheerful, fully satisfied, he assured Palfrey. When Whitehall had moved, there had been no mistake about it.
‘We’re getting ready to return to the States when the inquiry is over. Maybe I shall get my job back. I shall need a job. I’m getting married.’
‘Splendid! Congratulations.’
‘Well, I’m taking on plenty with Susan,’ said Kyle, but there was a merry gleam in his eyes; he was certainly very pleased with himself. ‘Are there any things you feel aren’t cleared up yet?’
Palfrey said: ‘Only the incidentals. Why did Gorringer use Cheddar and Bristol when there were plenty of hiding places nearer the mine?’
‘That’s an easy one,’ Kyle assured him. ‘You ought not to have missed it. Don’t forget that Gorringer was fighting Morne, although trying to hide it. He needed a separate force. Morne looked after the workmen and employed the physicists, paying them well without telling them why he was working with Garth. Gorringer set up a different army, and he made all the mistakes. Except for Fyson, all of his people were modelled on. Al Capone. It’s a good thing they were.’
‘Yes,’ said Palfrey, and added, quietly: ‘Morne himself might have got away with it.’
‘What was there to stop him?’ asked Kyle.
There had been nothing; with the loyalty of his staff assured, and the Wenn Mine so close to Morne House, it was doubtful whether there would have been any leakage; the world might
‘All over,’ he said. ‘No need for regrets.’
Then across the silence came a roar, distant and yet deafening, terrifying. They stared at one another. The rumbling continued, and the blast came, but it whistled only softly in Wenlock and that room.
Loretta said, in a low voice: ‘I’m glad the house has gone. I can really forget now.’
McDonald was holding her hands.
The Palfreys went quietly out of the room.