‘God! They’ve done him!’ gasped Greene, staring numbly at the outstretched form.
But Faggis suddenly woke up.
‘Have they?’ he muttered; and, swiftly laying his burden down, he darted towards the hut. A door at the side stood open.
Greene hesitated. As a rule, he managed to dominate Faggis, but for once he found himself less alert. Possibly he realised more intelligently what the loss of a leader meant, and was momentarily stunned by the swiftness of the message from his brain. He did not move for two or three seconds after Faggis had darted forward, but continued to stare through the open window, as though waiting for the figure lying there to move. But the figure did not move. The lanky form lay, face downwards, obviously dead.
Then, while he stared, Greene suddenly gave an exclamation. It came at the moment Faggis appeared in the room bringing movement into the grim picture illuminated by the lamp. It was not the sight of Faggis, however, that produced the third officer’s cry, and sent him dashing also towards the hut.
‘Gawd!’ gulped Ben.
This was the only thought that came to him at such moments. It covered everything—emotion, impotence, and prayer.
Greene was now in the room with Faggis, and Faggis was bending over the body. As Greene advanced, Faggis rose, and stared past Greene at the door.
‘Any’ow, it makes one less, miss!’ muttered Ben.
Receiving no reply, and considering that the situation demanded one, he turned to Molly Smith, and found there was no Molly Smith to turn to. That made him one less, also, and he didn’t like it.
‘Oi!’ he whispered hoarsely.
A figure began to grow out of the shadows.
‘Thort you’d gorn,’ gasped Ben.
‘No, I’ve not gone,’ replied the voice of Mr Sims. ‘I’m still here.’
Ben sat down upon the ground. He did not remember doing it, but as he was on the ground he supposed he must have. A dozen Mr Simses seemed to be dancing all around him.
‘Beg pardon,’ he mumbled weakly, to the one who looked the most distinct; ‘but are you dead or am I?’
‘We are both alive—at the moment,’ replied the most distinct Mr Sims.
‘Then—’oo’s the bloke in there?’
‘Ah! He is undoubtedly dead!’
‘And ain’t ’e you?’
‘I imagine not. I also imagine, from what I have observed, that he was temporarily taken for me, probably on account of our similarity in build and the fact that he was lying on his face.’
‘Oh! That was it, was it?’ murmured Ben. ‘But—’oo deaded ’im?’
Sims considered the question for an instant.
‘He was tired of life, Ben,’ said Sims, ‘and, taking a knife, he killed himself.’
Ben offered no comment. But Faggis did. He had emerged from the cottage, and had overheard the last remark. Greene was still in the room, examining the dead man.
‘That’s the way I always try to work it too, Sims,’ he observed sarcastically. ‘Suicide covers a multitude of sins, eh?’
‘It has its uses, Faggis.’
‘P’r’aps one day you’ll commit suicide?’
‘We might make a pact?’
‘Sure! Meantime, let’s hear the truth of that nasty mess inside there.’
‘Sure! Pick up Miss Holbrooke, get her into the hut—there’s an upper room with a bed in it—put her there—and you shall hear the story.’
Faggis obeyed, and they walked towards the hut. Suddenly Ben wondered why no one had noticed the absence of Molly Smith. The solution was at his elbow.
‘I’ve discovered something!’ whispered Molly. ‘The mule!’
Lummy! For slippiness, eels weren’t in it!
They reached the hut. Greene was standing anxiously in the doorway. He stared at Sims venomously, divided between gratification and anger at the sight.
‘How many more have we got to kill?’ he demanded.
‘I can only think of four,’ replied Sims. ‘I exclude of course Miss Holbrooke. Take her up, Faggis, and then come down again.’
A minute later, Miss Holbrooke was lying on the bed in the little upper room, and the rest of the party had gathered in the parlour immediately below to hear their leader’s story.
It was gruesome, and it was short. When Sims had reached the cottage, he had found the wrong man waiting for him. The meeting had involved a joint surprise, for the wrong man seemed unprepared, and was, according to Sims, wholly lacking in tact. The result was that antagonism developed rather swiftly, and the swiftness of the development necessitated a swift solution.
‘And the solution, gentlemen, lies at our feet,’ said Sims.
‘You mean—he was a detective?’ asked Greene bluntly.
‘To tell you the truth,’ admitted Sims, rather sadly, ‘we hardly had time to find out very much about each other. He may have been a detective.’
‘Nothing to show it on him,’ said Greene.
‘There wouldn’t be, if he was a good detective,’ replied Sims. ‘But, if he was a detective, he was a very bad one. As I have implied, he had no tact. He seemed quite incapable of fencing. He also had no sense of self-protection. Would a detective have arranged to meet so considerable an army as ours without a bit of an army himself? It’s not likely—no, it’s not likely.’
‘Then, darnation, who was he?’ demanded Faggis. ‘And how do you know he wasn’t the proper feller, after all?’
‘Because I do not happen to be a fool, Faggis,’ answered Sims, ‘and do not give responsible jobs to strangers. This man was a stranger to me. He may have got inside knowledge in some way—there has never been a scheme so watertight that leakage was impossible—and he may have been working for a rival party.’
‘More likely he was working on his own,’ suggested Greene.
‘Much more likely,’ agreed Sims. ‘It would explain, perhaps, his nerviness—his lack of assurance. If he had had friends near by, or shortly arriving, he’d surely have used his wits to hold the situation. On the contrary, he lost his head—and I did not lose mine.’
‘He lost more than his head,’ said Greene.
‘Yes, exactly. And we must see that we do not lose our own heads, and we must not bank on theories. He may have been playing a lone hand. He may have been one of a gang. Or he may even have been a detective—a very bad detective. Only in the first of these three alternatives have we nothing to fear. Do you understand?’
‘We’re not babes-in-arms,’ remarked Faggis.
‘Thank you, Faggis. I will make a note of it. And, as we’re not babes-in-arms, we must act on the assumption that the worst is possible. The worst being that this man has friends, either inside or outside the police force, who may come and look for him.’
There was a short silence. Minds were busy. But they all waited on Sims’s mind.
‘In addition to general vigilance and absolute unity,’ said Sims, at last, ‘there are three immediate things to be done. But let us settle the vigilance and the unity first. Is it agreed, without the remotest dissent, that I am your leader to be obeyed instantly and without question in all things?’
‘That’s obvious, isn’t it?’ replied Molly, addressing the conference for the first time.
‘I’m glad to hear you say so,’ answered Sims, his voice giving no indication as to whether he believed her or not. ‘What about the others?’
‘O.K., for me,’ said Greene.
‘What’s this about?’ said Faggis. ‘Who’s objecting?’
‘And you, Ben?’ asked Sims, turning to the least effective member of the party with a cynical smile.
‘’Oo?’ blinked Ben.
‘Have I anything to fear from you?’ inquired Sims.
‘Fear from me, is it?’ responded Ben. ‘Oh, yus! I look like I could knock anybody dahn, doesn’t I? If yer was ter put me hup agin a week-old chicken wot ’ad bin rode hover by a motor bus, I couldn’t pull its beak!’
‘But if the flesh were not weak, what would the spirit be?’ pressed Sims.
‘Yus or no,’ retorted Ben, ‘whichever one yer tryin’ for.’
‘That’s generous. Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with our unity, when my revolver and my knife—’
‘My knife,’ corrected Faggis.
‘… The knife that used to belong to Mr Faggis but that now belongs to me—are added. Now, how about the vigilance? Suppose you station yourself at the window, Greene, and keep a look out?’
‘And stop the first bullet?’
‘We’ll lower the lamp. Then you won’t be such a mark.’ He lowered the wick as he spoke. ‘Now I think you’ll be safe, Greene. Do you mind?’
‘Delighted! But I can’t think why I’m honoured?’
‘A third officer has to pass a vision test. Your sight is keener than ours.’
‘Hear that, Faggis? A compliment! The Eighth Wonder! Well, here goes to make myself a target.’ He crossed to the window. ‘And now what about those three immediate things we’ve got to do?’
‘One is to get rid of this fellow at our feet.’
‘Agreed. But where do we put him?’
‘Somewhere where he won’t be found until the year 1990. I’ve no doubt you two can stow him away safely.’
‘Us, of course!’
‘You, of course. Then we’ve got to have another look for another body.’
‘Ain’t this cheerful?’ said Ben.
‘Shut up, you fool!’ exclaimed Faggis. And then asked Sims, ‘What other body? And what other look?’
‘The body of the man who ought to have been here,’ replied Sims. ‘It’s my opinion he hasn’t been long dead. Maybe he isn’t dead at all. That would explain the flurry of the fool I’ve just had to kill myself.’
‘I see,’ murmured Greene, and he gazed more intensely out of the window. ‘Yes, that might explain it. You’ve had one look already, then?’
‘I was searching when you came along.’
‘Well? And Number Three?’
‘Ah, yes. Number Three,’ said Sims, ‘is the boat.’
‘What about the boat?’ exclaimed Faggis.
Greene, also, seemed rather surprised.
‘This about the boat,’ answered Sims. ‘If the boat is found—and there may be folk around to find it—it will almost inevitably lead to us. On the other hand, if it is hidden away, it may be useful should we suddenly need it.’
‘That’s right,’ nodded Ben. ‘If some ’un comes along, you on’y got to jump four miles!’
‘Will you shut up!’ cried Faggis.
‘All the same, he’s right this time,’ remarked Greene. ‘How’s the boat going to help us in an emergency?’
‘If one knew in advance all the points affecting an emergency,’ said Sims dryly, ‘there wouldn’t be an emergency. I know you’ve had a long day, Greene, but try to keep your brain awake. That boat has got to be hidden away somewhere, and it’s got to be hidden in a place where we can get hold of it quickly and launch it if we want to.’
‘Brain awake! By Jiminy, that’s comic!’ rasped Greene, smarting and indignant. ‘How the devil d’you suppose we’re going to make the beach in the darkness?’
‘It won’t be in the darkness,’ replied Sims calmly. ‘You forget, there’ll be a moon.’
‘That’s true,’ reflected Faggis. ‘And no clouds, as there were last night, to obscure it. Yes, but talking of brains,’ he added, ‘where were yours when you let us leave the boat in the open before coming along here? Couldn’t we have stowed it away then?’
There were two reasons why Sims had not stowed the boat away then, but he only explained one of them. The other they learned later.
‘I think my brain can even stand that question, Faggis,’ said Sims. ‘We had one hour for this journey, and the light was failing. There wasn’t time. Any more questions?’
‘Yes, I’ve got one,’ interposed Molly, ‘and it comes before any of the others, or I drop out. You’ve got to bring Miss Holbrooke round!’
Mr Sims shook his head in mock despair.
‘Dear, dear!’ he murmured. ‘This young lady is very persistent.’
‘And she’s going to get more so.’
‘Then my hand is forced. As a matter of fact, I had wished to see to Miss Holbrooke first, but I anticipated trouble from other quarters.’
He glanced towards Greene and Faggis, and Greene asked curtly what that meant.
‘Well,’ explained Sims, ‘if I bring Miss Holbrooke round, she will have to be looked after, and I shall not be able to leave the hut myself.’
‘But I’ll look after her,’ said Molly. ‘That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?’
‘Ah, but who will look after you, Miss Smith?’ queried Sims. ‘And Ben? However, let us have a show of hands, just to prove that I am not invariably an autocrat. Who votes for immediate attention to Miss Holbrooke?’
Three hands went up. The hands of Molly, Ben and Sims.
‘Three to two,’ announced Sims. ‘The ayes win. Then our arrangements are as follows. Miss Holbrooke will be attended to in the room above our heads. Miss Smith will remain with Miss Holbrooke, and read nursery rhymes to her. You, Greene, and you, Faggis, will get rid of our quiet friend on the ground—you can do that while I am being Miss Holbrooke’s doctor—and after that, if the moon is not up, we can poke round for any sign of the late manager of this hotel—or of the enemy.’
‘We shan’t find much till the moon’s up,’ commented Greene. ‘It’s almost pitch black out there.’
‘And, when the moon is up,’ replied Sims, ‘you and Faggis will set off immediately for the boat.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ said Greene suddenly.
‘I am,’ answered Sims. ‘I’d shoot you where you stand without the slightest hesitation, if it suited my purpose.’
Greene frowned uneasily, and Faggis took up the objection where Greene dropped it.
‘There’s two of us,’ Faggis reminded him.
‘I can count,’ responded Sims. ‘But, even if, while I killed Greene, you killed me, Faggis, or if while I killed you, Greene killed me, the survivor would be utterly helpless and discredited and moneyless in a strange country. No money. No language—saving in the decorative sense. No future prospects. A black past. And, just incidentally, I happen to belong to a little organisation that would be very curious if anything happened to me. You don’t suppose all of this could have been planned and carried out if my friends hadn’t been pretty useful, do you? No, Faggis. No, Greene. If I’m dead, you’ll never make a cent out of Miss Holbrooke. You’ll just swing for her.’
He paused. Greene shifted a little way from the window, and glanced quickly at Faggis.
‘I wouldn’t lose a hell of a lot if I did shoot you both this instant,’ said Sims.
Faggis had been sitting on the edge of the table. He rose carelessly.
‘Why don’t you?’ he asked.
‘Well, I’m rather tender-hearted,’ replied Sims, quietly watching every movement, ‘and my friends rather like me to stick to my word, just as they insist that others shall stick to theirs. If you’re good dogs, I expect you’ll still be worth your keep.’
‘If we’re good dogs,’ said Faggis, lounging a step nearer.
‘Very good dogs,’ repeated Sims, and covered Faggis.
Faggis smiled, and shrugged his shoulders.
‘We’ll play square, if you do,’ he said, and sat down again. ‘There’s just one thing I want to ask, though, and you can stick down your cannon while I’m asking, if you like.’
‘I don’t like,’ answered Sims, ‘until I hear what the question is.’
‘Quite a simple one, Sims,’ said Faggis. ‘What do you do, exactly, while Greene and I are seeing to the boat?’
‘Yes, that’s quite a simple one,’ agreed Sims. ‘While you’re seeing to your end, I’m seeing to mine. Miss Smith will be watching Miss Holbrooke. I will be watching Miss Smith—’
‘What’s that?’ interposed Molly. ‘Watching me?’
‘Of course. With Faggis and Greene away, I must see that our two latest recruits do not suddenly get it into their heads to jump upon me.’
‘A lot of good that would do us!’ retorted Molly. ‘You think us mugs, don’t you?’
‘You would certainly be mugs to jump upon me.’
‘Well, you can put that out of your mind!’
‘I mean to. While you are spending the night upstairs, the key of your room will be in my pocket.’
Molly swung round angrily.
‘You’re going to lock me in?’ she cried.
‘There! You see!’ answered Sims. ‘You rouse my suspicions at once! Why shouldn’t you be locked in? Will it make any difference to your plans?’
‘Not a cent’s worth,’ retorted Molly. ‘That’s why it’s so damn silly. Still, have it your own way. You’re the boss, aren’t you?’
‘I am,’ admitted Sims.
‘And wotcher goin’ ter do ter me?’ asked Ben. ‘Lock me hin too?’
Mr Sims removed his eyes from Molly, and fixed them on Ben.
‘Don’t be impatient, Ben.’ He smiled. ‘You’ll learn all in good time.’
‘You’re not going to hurt him?’ exclaimed Molly.
‘Hurt him, Miss Smith? I love him like a son!’ He raised his head suddenly. ‘Do I hear a movement upstairs? Run up to Miss Holbrooke quickly, please. I’ll follow you immediately.’
She hesitated.
‘I said, “quickly,”’ repeated Sims. ‘I meant it.’
‘Well, no monkey tricks!’ She frowned, and left the room.
‘And now bind that idiot and gag him,’ said Sims. ‘Good and tight!’