CHAPTER 23

The Professor with Nine Lives

NOEL opened his eyes, saw Loftus, hitched himself up in his bed and gaped. Loftus’s face was hard and set. Only a bedside lamp was on. The other men stood back in the shadows; as far as Noel could see, Loftus and he were the only people in the room.

He said: ‘Lo-Loftus!’ and his voice was shrill.

‘Yes,’ said Loftus. ‘Here again, Noel, and this time I am not going away without results.’

‘You—you can’t——’

‘I can and will go to any lengths to make you tell the truth,’ said Loftus. ‘Where did you get the T.N.25 formula?’

He had not intended to start with that question; the fact that he did proved that it was uppermost in his mind. It did not greatly matter how he started, however, for Noel was not likely to regain his composure easily; the hour had been well chosen. Loftus even forgot the careful set-up, the trap so elaborately set to counter Rutter’s trap; he even forgot that it did not greatly matter whether Noel talked or not. All he wanted was to get Noel and Rutter together, and Rutter would come, surely there could be no doubt of that.

‘I—I don’t understand you,’ Noel gasped.

He tried to sit up, and Loftus pushed him down again. At the same time the Errols moved forward and stood motionless at the foot of the luxurious double bed. Their faces just showed in the dim light.

‘Where did you get the formula?’ repeated Loftus.

‘I—I don’t know what you mean! What formula? Loftus, if you don’t go, I—I’ll send——’

His voice trailed off, for Loftus clenched his fist and thrust it towards his face. Noel was so frightened that for the first time Loftus discovered one truth about him. There was no courage in Hemmingway Noel.

Loftus said: ‘Listen to me, Noel. You are in this business so deep that nothing will ever get you out. You employ Rutter. You are responsible for the death of Dr. Morritz, for the death and injuries of the people in Alum Chine, for the death of my man Grey on the cliff—they are your direct responsibilities, and there is much more. Treason—betrayal—murder. Before I leave tonight I shall know everything.’

Noel gasped. ‘There isn’t anything to know, I’ve told you the truth.’

Loftus struck him on the side of the face, not heavily, but hard enough to send his head back on the pillows and to make him lie there, staring up, quite demoralized.

Where did you get the formula?’ demanded Loftus.

Noel gasped. ‘Rutter got it!’

‘When?’

‘Months ago, months ago! I refused to do business with him, he wanted to sell it to me, I referred him to the Government, I know nothing else——’

Loftus believed part of what he said: Rutter himself had obtained the formula. The most important thing was that Noel admitted acquaintance with the man.

It was hard to believe that Rutter was probably within earshot, that the door of the dressing-room might open at any moment. Surely he was there.

‘You know a great deal more,’ said Loftus. ‘How long did you work for Germany?’

‘That—that is a lie!’

He broke off again, for the Errols moved forward. He was about to scream, but Loftus clapped a hand over his mouth. The Errols tore off his pyjama jacket, and then raised him up. Mike took a length of cord from his pocket, and as Noel sat shivering he tied his wrists to the bed-posts. He sat there, his chest bare, his face distorted—and then Loftus altered the position of the lamp, so that it shone directly on his victim.

He took out a knife.

Noel gasped: ‘What—what is that? What—Loftus!’ His voice was a scream. ‘Loftus, you can’t torture me, you can’t

‘I shall do whatever I think necessary to make you tell the truth,’ said Loftus. His face, so grim and set, his eyes, glittering in the subdued light, seemed to petrify Noel, who stared as the knife flashed, and winced when it moved towards him.

‘Loftus!’

Then the ceiling light went on.

Had Loftus not been expecting it, had there been no plot within a plot, it would have taken them by surprise. As the light flashed on, the door of the dressing-room opened and armed men streamed in. The Errols backed away. Mike turned, as if to go to the door—and one of the men fired and brought him down with a flesh wound. He knocked against Hoffmann, who went sprawling. Mark stood quite still, while Loftus stared at Rutter, the knife still in his hand. Noel sat helpless, almost sobbing in terror.

‘An interesting picture,’ said Rutter, and raised his hand.

A vivid flashlight made them blink; there were three flashes in all, and with each a photograph was taken—of Loftus with the knife, and of Noel stretched out, with his chest bared.

‘A most interesting picture,’ said Rutter, and took the knife from Loftus. ‘All right, Noel, you need not worry.’ He motioned to one of his men, who cut Noel free as he went on: ‘All your men outside have been dealt with, Loftus, as well as all those inside the house. None of them has been hurt, I assure you—not seriously hurt. All will be here when the police arrive, with all the forces they require. Wasn’t it fortunate that Noel, suspecting something like this, planned to have friends here?’

Loftus said nothing.

‘Have you quite lost your tongue?’ sneered Rutter. ‘I am not really surprised. I know your desperation; your friend George was good enough to tell me what you were planning to do.’

‘George!’ gasped Loftus.

‘You under-estimated his regard for Miss Dalton,’ said Rutter. ‘Well, Loftus, you are caught red-handed, using methods more suited to a Gestapo officer than to an Englishman. What a story it will make! I wonder what sentence you will get, Loftus? Ten years, perhaps—even more. You might have escaped with less if you had the authority of the Government, but you have none. How foolish! What a rash move you made tonight.’

Loftus stood still, and his eyes seemed aflame.

‘You will, of course, tell the police that I was here,’ said Rutter, ‘but your evidence will be worth nothing—why should they believe you in your attempt to malign such an upright gentleman as Hemmingway Noel?’ He laughed again. ‘It is perfect, Loftus. I told George how kind it was of you to play like this into my hands, to make sure that you had no chance at all to defend yourself.’

Loftus said: ‘You—planned—this.’

‘As the culmination of years of striving and years of sacrifice,’ said Rutter, and he told Loftus what he had told Noel, of his hatred for Craigie, for Mattley, for the Department, of his efforts and his plans. None of this concerned T.N.25. For once he enjoyed hearing himself talk; obviously he felt convinced that his wildest dreams had come true. He was drunk with triumph. And that robbed him of the sinister touch which had always sat so evilly upon him.

‘So it is over, Loftus,’ he said, slowly. ‘You will not even have the satisfaction of knowing the truth of this. Your absurd suggestion that Noel worked for Germany over a period of years will be laughed at—and should be laughed at!’

Loftus seemed to flinch.

‘You really thought it was true,’ marvelled Rutter. ‘Oh, the truth is far different. I wonder how much I can safely tell you?’ He looked at Noel, who was lying back with his eyes fixed on Loftus, and added: ‘You were quite wrong to attack Noel. He has been an unhappy victim of my scheming. He thought I was his friend, but I have no time for friends. One day, when you are in prison, you will understand what I have been doing, for whom I have been working. Perhaps it will be known before Mattley dies—unless he dies soon, now that power has been snatched from him.’

‘It’s not been taken away—yet,’ Loftus said.

‘It will soon be gone,’ said Rutter, softly. ‘That and all his grandiose ideas—but I must not tell you too much, Loftus. Perhaps it would be better left for you to imagine, to discover as each development becomes widely known. This I can tell you. The explosive which Noel was making was not T.N. 25. But then, I think he realized that. The samples he had here were of powerful explosives, but not the greatest one. Only Toller and Morritz had that. Do you remember the explosion at Alum Chine, Loftus? That was caused by a thimbleful of T.N.25! You see its possibilities?’

Still Loftus said nothing, and none of the others stirred.

Noel said: ‘You—cheated—me.’

Rutter laughed. ‘What a fool you are, Noel, when you are stripped of your absurd pose. Oh, it does not matter,’ he went on, ‘nothing said here will ever be believed by the police, or by anyone except Loftus and his few remaining friends. And yet—perhaps only Loftus had better hear.’

He turned to his men.

Loftus stood quite still. He saw Mike and Mark struck over the head and rendered unconscious, and Hoffmann treated in the same way. They did not resist. Rutter was looking at him all the time, and when it was finished, he said:

‘No, Noel, I did not cheat you. I merely gave you an instalment of the real thing. Loftus has been tricked—Loftus and Mattley—Washington and Moscow. They all think they have the proper formula now. The second half was sent to Washington and Moscow yesterday. But compared with the real T.N.25 that formula is innocuous, not worth a moment’s trouble.’

‘Oh,’ said Loftus, in an absurd voice.

‘Oh,’ mimicked Rutter. ‘Surprised, Loftus?’

Loftus said: ‘Er—no. No, not really surprised. So the real thing is still unknown, except to Toller.’

‘The only man alive, besides myself, who has it,’ said Rutter, ‘and I will sell it in due course to Noel and to others, and——’

‘Well, well!’ said Loftus, stupidly. ‘Of course. I was quite blind, Rutter.’

Rutter looked at him sharply.

‘Quite blind,’ repeated Loftus. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and as if in self-reproach. ‘I should have understood before. I wonder if you wanted me to learn what I know now?’

Rutter said: ‘Be careful, Loftus.’

Loftus snapped: ‘What good will carefulness do now? What chance have I of overcoming the prejudice that this will create? What matters if you kill me because I have learned too much? That might be better,’ he went on more slowly. ‘Yes, I think it would be. Only you and Toller know the formula, Rutter. So—you must have obtained it from Gabriel Toller! Freely given, I suppose? He was dealing with you while working for the Government. No wonder he escaped each time you attacked him! The Professor with nine lives!’

And Loftus laughed.

‘The Professor with nine lives! Well done, Rutter! It is very nearly perfect. Not once—not once—did we suspect that the real Gabriel Toller was working with you.’

Rutter said: ‘You know now.’

‘Oh yes! And one day he will take another of his daily walks and get rid of his guards and join you, I suppose? You will have the formula, you can sell to each Government or any one you can select—or to a ring of manufacturers led by Noel here. Yes, it is clever, Rutter, far cleverer than I thought. You ought to be most pleased with yourself.’

‘I am pleased,’ said Rutter.

‘Oh yes! Still, remember the old saw. Many a slip——’ He laughed again, but not so loudly.

‘There will be no slip now,’ said Rutter.

‘No? So you’ll kill me after all? Well,’ said Loftus, and he sounded as inane as George Henry George, ‘who can blame you? They would investigate the circumstances of the attempts on Toller’s life afresh, wouldn’t they? That is, if I made my statement. It would not matter whether I were believed or not.’

Rutter said: ‘Yes, Loftus, they would. You will never make that statement.’

‘Odd thing,’ said Loftus. ‘George Henry George is bright, there’s no doubt about that. He was always asking: why should a professor have nine lives? His favourite joke. I suppose you wouldn’t like to let me know everything now? I mean, no harm could be done, could it?’

Rutter said: ‘George and the girl won’t live much longer than you.’

‘Oh,’ said Loftus. ‘Poisoned? If not, they will live—they were to be taken away from the empty house at dawn. I knew you wouldn’t be able to spare any men from here at dawn. A good time of day, dawn. Hark! There’s a cock crowing!’

He raised a hand; and there was silence in the room, silence until he lowered his hand, then raised it again. A tiny glass phial hit the panel of the bed. As it did so a cloud of gas rose up, and Loftus swung round and crashed a fist into Rutter’s face, then dropped to the floor. Three shots rang out; all of them missed him. The cloud grew thicker, and the men began to cough, including Loftus. They could not see because of the tears streaming from their eyes and the pain at their eyes and nose and throat—the pricking, burning pain caused by tear-gas.

As they struggled, as Rutter tried to clear his eyes enough to see where Loftus was, Superintendent Carr and a strong force of the local police led a raid on the house. Tear-gas was freely used downstairs, there was little serious opposition, and when Carr himself entered the bedroom, Loftus was as helpless with the tear-gas as any of them.

In spite of it Loftus was trying to laugh.

•           •           •           •

Craigie pressed the button beneath the green light in the mantelpiece, and Mattley came in. The Prime Minister’s eyes were bright, and there was no winter in his smile. His cigarette stuck out at a jaunty angle, and he raised his hand in greeting.

‘Hallo, Loftus! Are you all right?’

‘All sound in wind and limb, sir,’ said Loftus, now quite recovered.

‘Have you got the whole story?’

‘There’s very little missing,’ said Loftus, ‘and I think George will get the rest in time for you to include it when you wind up for the Government tonight. He is talking to Noel now.’

‘What of this man Rutter?’

‘I’ve done all the interrogating necessary with him,’ said Loftus, in a grim voice. ‘Do you remember, sir, in 1940 you gave evidence against a man court-martialled for cowardice under fire?’

Mattley hesitated, and then said slowly:

‘Yes, I do remember something about it.’

‘That was Rutter,’ said Loftus. ‘Hence his knife in you, sir. He had equally strong reasons for hating Craigie. Hate complex, but he is sane enough. When Rutter offered his services to Noel, he—save our blushes!—was convinced that he and Noel stood in greatest danger from the Department, and he set out on a deliberate attempt to smash the Department by every means in his power. The idea grew. You were known to favour international control of armaments, and Noel and Company did not like that a little bit, because of the strict limitation of profits and all that pertains. So they spread their arms and included the breaking of your administration in their pretty plot. That was incidental, of course. What they most wanted was Toller’s explosive and a competitive world market. They knew he was working on T.N.25. Toller, as you know, once worked for Dakers. Dakers have a curious habit of not paying their research workers very well. Toller felt that he was being cheated of a just reward—and Rutter discovered that he was bitter about it. They talked. Rutter offered a large sum, knowing he could get financial support from Noel. Toller took the bribe, and then a formula was prepared and given to you, one which was not quite up to the full strength. Toller thus justified himself as a patriot— wonderful man, Toller! However, there was mystery as to how the formula reached other hands. Morritz was one possibility, and naturally we assumed that he had disclosed under threat of death. To make it look more realistic, Rutter arranged fake attacks on the Professor—and we swallowed that, sir, all of us swallowed that.’

‘I certainly did,’ said Mattley.

‘And why not?’ asked Loftus. ‘I first began to wonder after the explosion at Alum Chine and the death of Morritz. Then there was another attack and a theft from Toller. You’ll remember at the time that I suggested it was pointless.’

‘Yes,’ said Mattley.

‘It was a mistake on Rutter’s part,’ said Loftus. ‘He wanted us to believe that Toller was still in grave danger, and he elaborated it too much. Still, Toller might have been sitting pretty, with a little luck. Of course, we ourselves helped to make Toller seem quite genuine. We put up an Aunt Sally, and when we took an imaginary Toller to Bournemouth, Rutter saw his chance and used another dummy to spread further confusion. Very clever! Another pointer, had I chanced to see it, was that the man they put up—a disreputable actor named Kelly—had no instructions except to try to fool us. We were to believe that Rutter now had the real Toller—or rather,’ he added, smoothing his hair, ‘Rutter wanted us to think that he thought he had.’

‘Yes, I follow you,’ said Mattley, after a pause.

‘There isn’t much more,’ said Loftus. ‘I have no doubt at all that Noel’s syndicate was most anxious to split the United Nations. It would not have suited them to have, a happy family, and so they tried the tricks with the formula, making each Government think it had the real thing, but all the time sitting pretty with Toller’s real discovery.’

‘Have you got that formula?’ asked Mattley.

‘No,’ said Loftus. ‘Nothing in this world will make Rutter give it up, but I think you’ll get it from Toller. I’d rather like to try, sir.’

‘You shall,’ said Mattley. He smiled. ‘I won’t even try to say thanks, but if there are some obscure references to a small band of men working for a little-known Department, in the course of my speech this afternoon, you are at liberty to assume that I mean you—and the others, of course.’ He looked at Craigie and laughed. ‘Neither of us is finished yet, eh?’

Craigie laughed with him.

Mattley had not been out of the office for twenty minutes before the Bournemouth telephone rang, and George came on the line. A rather smug George who, when Loftus answered, asked:

‘Why did the Professor have nine lives?’

‘That’s enough,’ said Loftus, grinning. ‘Have you finished with Noel?’

‘Oh, it was wonderful,’ said George. ‘He almost cried in his eagerness to blame everyone but himself. I’ve the names of all the people with whom he worked—nine combines in all, only two of them English, I’m glad to say.’

‘Let’s have them,’ said Loftus.

‘Right!’ said George, and talked earnestly for ten minutes. The list of names was imposing. That finished, he said brightly: ‘And after that I think I deserve a holiday, William.’

‘For as long as you like,’ said Loftus. ‘I suppose you don’t mean a honeymoon?’

‘I do not,’ said George. ‘Er—not yet, anyhow. Wish me luck. Good-bye! Oh, Loftus! Loftus, are you still there?’

‘Yes,’ said Loftus.

‘There’s a curious thing,’ said George. ‘Nothing sinister, just curious. We found a pile of papers about Bentley at Rostrum, including some photographs of Bentley, his sister and her husband.’

‘Well?’ said Loftus.

‘That husband,’ said George, in a slow voice. ‘Remarkable, William, it really is. I thought at first I was looking at a photograph of Bruce Hammond. A really striking likeness, there really is. Odd, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Loftus. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘Talk about little Oliver!’ said George, and rang off.

Loftus looked across at Craigie, who had been listening in on the other telephone and making notes. Craigie looked up with a curious smile, and Loftus said:

‘Paula Bentley’s often at Bruce’s nursing home, isn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ said Craigie.

‘Without jumping my fences,’ said Loftus, ‘I wonder if she could put Hammond on his feet again? And Paula, for that matter. I—but confound it, we’ve got to get that list typed for Mattley!’

•           •           •           •

George and Polly sat in the small lounge, with the radio on. A few of the others were also there, including Bannister and Hoffmann—who had remembered, now, where he had seen Maurice. More came in, until the room was almost full. Superintendent Carr arrived just before six o’clock, and had time to tell them that every man who had been arrested at Rostrum was an employee of Noel’s, employed to act on any instructions. Carr admitted being astonished. Such barefaced gangsterdom, in England, under the auspices of a public man like Noel!

George grinned across at the Superintendent.

‘Nothing surprising in that, policeman! Lots of strong-arm men about, glad to do anything for a spot of the necessary.’

‘Hush!’ exclaimed Polly.

The six pips of the Greenwich time signal came over the radio, and silence fell upon the room—a portentous silence, as if the announcer knew that a vast number of people was waiting for the report of that fateful debate in the House of Commons.

He began to speak.

‘In the House of Commons this afternoon, the Government received a complete endorsement of its policy, the censure motion moved by Mr. Lloyd Lovell being defeated by 387 votes to 9. Contrary to custom, the Prime Minister intervened in the middle of the debate, reading to the House a statement which, he said, he had just received from the leader of a small Department working on Government service, a Department whose members are few but whose work cannot be assessed or praised too highly. The statement which followed…’

‘Polly,’ whispered George.

‘Polly!’ He was alarmed as he looked at her.

‘Quiet!’ said Bannister, annoyed.

‘Polly!’ whispered George. He got up and went to her. She was sitting back with her eyes closed and tears streaming down her face. He held her hand. She clutched his fingers tightly. Then she opened her eyes and asked in a muffled voice for a handkerchief.

Later, they walked through the gardens, near the Pavilion, where man had trained nature and created beauty enough to make all who looked upon the flowers and the shrubs, in their glorious raiment, stare with wonder. But they were not looking at the flowers, nor at the stream passing through the gardens, where children still played. They were looking at each other.

‘I am a fool,’ said Polly. ‘Crying!’

‘Great Scott!’ said George. ‘I was delighted! Confound it, you would have been inhuman if you hadn’t cracked sooner or later. You were—well, one day I’ll tell you what I think of you, Pretty Polly!’

‘George, supposing we’d lost? What would have happened?’

George looked surprised.

‘Well, ask yourself. Now all will be friendship and joy among the nations, where there would have been deep hostility and suspicion. A little gang of men, respected men, deliberately planning to sabotage unity for the sake of filthy lucre: that’s the truth, reduced to its simplest form. The astonishing thing is that they got away with so much, and dared do so much openly. However, why think of what might have happened? Noel and his boy friends will have their teeth drawn, Rutter and his will hang. Mattley, in the fullness of time, will hand over to the next administration, but it will be a smooth job, done in all friendliness. In fact this show will do more than most to lessen the tension among the political parties. Damn it, they are all doing what they think best! Oh, there are a few who support sectional interests, but at the core it’s sound. All of which,’ added George, ‘is needlessly portentous. Look!’ He leaned forward and took from her hair a playing-card. ‘Short of combs?’ he inquired.

‘Fool!’ she said, half laughing.

‘It’s time for fooling,’ said George. ‘I can’t be for ever serious. Er—Polly.’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you marry me?’

Pretty Polly stood still, looked at him round-eyed, pink and plump and quite delicious.

‘Are you serious?’ she demanded.

‘Never more so! I know being married to me might be a bit of a trial, but—Polly!’ he cried, for her eyes were glowing, and in front of a hundred people and a number of interested children, he kissed her.

‘You might,’ said Polly, a few moments later, ‘have waited until I said yes.’