Side by side Gregory and Rudd dashed along the half-obscured footway to the shacks at Hook Quay. The police were still moving there and taking notes of the contents of the barges. A group of some thirty prisoners, heavily guarded, stood by the wharf ready to be marched away to the main road where a fleet of police vans would now be waiting. A car was parked at the end of the track which led inland and Gregory recognised it as the long low sports model in which he had previously seen the Limper; evidently it had brought him and his companion, half an hour earlier, to meet the barges.
They hastened past it at a quick jog trot and away from the creek towards Old Hook. Another four minutes and they were in the car Rudd had parked there ready for their getaway; hurtling over the uneven track towards the level crossing and the road.
‘We’ll never make it, sir,’ gasped Rudd when he had partially regained his breath. ‘By road, Quex Park’s near on forty miles from here. Can’t do that much under the hour; even if we take a chance on being pinched by speed cops.’
‘God knows if we’ll be in time,’ Gregory groaned, ‘but we’ll be in Quex Park under a quarter of an hour—bar accidents.’
‘Go on, sir, that just ain’t possible.’
‘It is, you big sap. You don’t think I was ass enough to rely upon the car alone—do you? Before we left London I telephoned Heston and had a hired pilot fly my plane down here in readiness for us.’
‘S’truth! Mr. Gregory, you’re a wonder, but where is it?’
‘Parked on the racecourse half-way between Queenborough and Sheerness. That’s the only decent landing ground I could think of for the hired man to fly it to. We’ll be there in less than a couple of minutes.’
They had already crossed, and re-crossed, the railway and were roaring down the straight of the second-class road to the south of it. A moment later they swung north on to a better road.’
As Gregory pulled up he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. To his satisfaction, but momentary amazement, he found that it was only ten minutes past twelve. The smugglers had attempted their landing at a quarter to and all the excitement which had ensued, together with their brief journey, had occupied no more than twenty-five minutes.
They flung themselves out of the car at the entrance of the racecourse and dashed in through a gate beside a tall deserted stand. Some bright flares were burning in the open space before it which picked out the silver wings of the waiting plane.
The racecourse keeper and a couple of his men met them near the plane and began quick expostulations but Gregory brushed them aside with the terse explanation: ‘Police business. No time to talk.’
A rapid handshake with the hired pilot; then Gregory and Rudd scrambled on board. The engine stuttered and burst into a roar. Another moment and the plane taxied forward sailing into the air. It banked steeply and swung away east by south, over Sheppey Island, then across the entrance of the Swale. They picked up the land again near the Reculvers and headed dead for Quex Park.
The twenty miles of air were eaten up in less than seven minutes and, as they zoomed towards the tree-surrounded enclosures that were now so familiar, Gregory was sorely tempted to land upon one of the grassy stretches which he knew lay between the coppices. Next second he caught sight of lights right in the centre of the Park; Gavin Fortescue and his people were still there. To bring the plane down anywhere near them would give the alarm prematurely.
He banked again, cursing the heavy clouds that obscured the stars, as he sailed low over the black belt of trees fringing the eastern end of the Park. Then he switched on his landing light and planed down towards his old landing ground outside the gates.
They came down with a horrible bump which made their teeth rattle in their heads, bounced up, sailed on and hit the ground again. There was the sound of rending fabric as the plane crashed to a standstill. One of its wing-tips had caught a pylon bearing the electric cables of the grid system.
‘Gawd!’ exclaimed Rudd, grabbing the zip fastener of the emergency exit at the top of the cabin.
‘To hell with the plane,’ Gregory shot back, flinging open the door and tumbling out.
Rudd was after him in a second, and they were running again, towards the lane. They had landed within a hundred yards of the east gate of the Park. Gregory seized the ironwork and pushed it violently. The gate swung open. They slipped through, jumped a fence that divided the drive from the fields, and ran on over the ground which Gregory had covered in his first visit.
Panting for breath they reached the coppice where Gregory had lain hidden, thrust their way through it, and came out upon the other side into the open space before the house.
Gregory gasped with relief as he saw no sign of imminent departure about the fleet of planes. A few men stood near them but many more were gathered in little groups, talking quietly, in front of the house. They were waiting for something; Gavin perhaps, but orders might be given for the pilots to fly their machines back to France at any moment. There was not a second to be lost.
Gregory shouldered his way back into the undergrowth and, with Rudd following him, crossed the drive; then slipped round to the back of the house. The front windows had been lit but here all was dark and silent.
At the far end of the building they turned again, stole swiftly between the outhouses, and came to the servants’ quarters: Gregory drew his gun and approached the door. It was unlocked; so he entered it and tiptoed down the passage to the housekeeper’s room. That was in darkness too but, as he thrust open the door, a faint whimpering came from one corner.
Pulling out his torch he switched it on and flashed it in the direction of the sound. Milly was crouching there wide eyed and shivering. She did not recognise him behind the glare of the torch which blinded her and thrust out her hands as he approached seeking to fend him off.
‘Don’t be frightened,’ he whispered. ‘It’s Gregory Sallust and Rudd.’
With a little sobbing cry she sprang up and flung herself towards him grabbing at his coat with her hands.
‘Oh thank God it’s you,’ she wailed. ‘Terrible things have been happening here—terrible. They’re killing people and if they find me they’ll kill me too.’
The muscles in Gregory’s cheeks twitched in a spasm of fear. Killing people: that meant Sabine. He was too late after all. But he must keep his head and quiet this hysterical girl. Perhaps she was mistaken.
‘Steady Milly,’ he said gripping her firmly as she clung to him; shivering with terror. ‘Pull yourself together my dear and tell us about it. Please! It’s frightfully important we should know everything without the least delay. Where’s Mrs. Bird?’
‘They—they locked her in her room,’ Milly sobbed, ‘about twenty minutes ago and I—I daren’t go up and let her out in case I meet some of them on the stairs.’
‘Who have they been killing then?’ His voice trembled a little.
‘Gerry’s men. Poor Mr. Simmons and—and his two friends. I crept out to—to let them know what was happening and I found them in a heap beside the drive. Oh it was horrible!’ Milly burst into a sudden hysterical wailing and, fearful that her cries would draw some of Gavin’s men to that wing of the house, Gregory muffled her face against his chest.
‘Steady now! steady, for God’s sake,’ he pleaded. ‘Finding them like that must have been a frightful shock. But try and tell me what started the trouble.’
For a moment the girl’s slender shoulders shook with uncontrollable sobbing, then she choked back her fear and stuttered: ‘We—we’ve been worried all day: ever since that awful row Lord Gavin had with Mademoiselle Szenty this—this morning. I telephoned to Gerry…’
‘Yes, I know that. Gavin locked her up in her room and you were able to tip us off about hearing him speak to the Limper of Eastchurch Marshes. That was fine work, but go on. What happened this afternoon?’
‘Nothing; nothing much. We sat about wondering what was going to happen. Half a dozen strange men turned up about tea time and one of them asked Aunty the quickest way down to the post office because he had to send a telegram. After dark they all set out in different directions from the house to—to patrol the grounds, I suppose. It must have been then they caught Simmons and his friends at their different posts. Aunty wanted me to go up to bed at half past ten but I wouldn’t because I thought I might be useful to take a message. You see, I didn’t know—I didn’t know then that poor Simmons was dead.’
‘It was brave of you to want to do that,’ Gregory said quickly as the girl showed signs of collapsing into another fit of hysterics. ‘You’re going to be brave again now, aren’t you, and hang on to yourself until you’ve told me all you can?’
She gave herself a little shake and stared up at him with tear-dimmed eyes. ‘Two of the men came back to the house. The others stayed in the grounds I suppose. It was half past eleven when Aunty left me here to go and have a look round outside. When she came back she said that three bright lights were shining from the top of the steel mast above the Bell tower. There have never been any lights there before as far as we know. She—she said she thought we ought to let Simmons, or one of the others know—in case they hadn’t seen them—so that they could telephone Gerry at Scotland Yard.
‘I slipped upstairs to get a coat, because it’s turned so chilly, and it was from my bedroom window that I saw the men in the grounds were walking about with torches. They seemed to be laying out lines or something.’
‘What time was this?’ Gregory asked.
‘Just on twelve.’
‘They were setting up them flares for their planes to land by,’ murmured Rudd.
‘Go on,’ Gregory urged the girl, ignoring the interruption.
‘I was just coming down the stairs again when I heard the telephone ring. It stopped and, almost immediately afterwards, one of Lord Gavin’s men came running out of the room below. He leapt up the stairs three at a time. I’ve always been terrified of these people; before he saw me I’d slipped back on to the landing and behind a heavy curtain. He rushed past me and I was just coming out from behind the curtain when I caught a glimpse of the other fellow. He was standing in the hall staring up the stairs—so I stayed where I was.’
‘I reckon it’s well you did,’ Rudd muttered. ‘That telephone call must have been the one the Limper made; warning them the game was up.’
‘After a moment,’ Milly went on breathlessly, ‘the first man came back to the landing with Lord Gavin. They all seemed terribly angry and excited. The man at the bottom of the stairs called up to them “that—that slut of yours has squealed on us”. The two men started swearing then in the most frightful way. But Lord Gavin banged his stick on the parquet floor and silenced them. Then he said—he said something like this:
‘ “You stupid fools. Why do you waste time blaspheming. Nothing is lost yet. We only have to keep our heads. The police spies who were set to watch us here have been dealt with. Sallust, Wells, and the Flying Squad, if they have called it out, are miles away on Sheppey Island. We’re safe here for a good half-hour. The planes are due at 12.15, so they will be in any moment now. Once they’ve landed their human freight will separate. Arrangements have already been made for that. We shall leave again by them immediately for France. Go and get Mrs. Bird now. She knows nothing of what’s been going on but she might prove troublesome. She’s still up because I saw a light in her room only ten minutes ago. Take her up to her bedroom, truss her up, and lock her in there. Then, on your way downstairs, you can deal with the Szenty woman. Tie her up too and take her out to my plane. Get a large stone and lash it to her feet. We’ll drop her overboard when we’re half-way across the Channel,” ’ Milly moaned. ‘His voice was icy—terrible but that’s what he said as well as I can remember.’
‘And then?’ snapped Gregory. ‘Go on, quick.’
‘I remained there till they had dragged Aunty, struggling up the stairs, past me. Directly they’d gone I rushed down and out of the house by the back way. I hadn’t understood then what Lord Gavin meant when he spoke of the police spies having been dealt with. Then I found them all in a—all in an awful heap—there in the driveway only fifty yards from the house. I heard aeroplanes coming in as I stood there, feeling sick and faint, and saw through the trees that a lot of bright flares had been lighted on the lawn. I—I was so horrified at the sight of those dead men I don’t know what I did next. I think my brain must have gone blank but I suppose I ran back here. The next thing I knew was that I was crouching in the corner shivering with terror when you came in and flashed your light on me.’
‘I wonder why they didn’t lock you up too,’ Gregory said suddenly.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think they even know I live here. Aunty got Lord Gavin’s consent to my boarding with her when she took the place but he’s so particular about her never having visitors we were afraid he might change his mind afterwards. That’s why I’ve always kept out of his sight. They’ve been here very little until the last few days and I’ve never met any of them face to face.’
Gregory’s sharp questions and Milly’s stuttering replies had occupied no more than a couple of minutes, but time had slipped by while Gregory and Rudd were running from the plane, and later creeping round the back of the house. In spite of their well-organised getaway from Hook Quay over half an hour had elapsed since they left Wells staring after them as they raced off into the darkness.
It was now twenty minutes to one and, from Milly’s report of what Lord Gavin had said when the Limper’s message came through just about midnight, the planes had been due to arrive at a quarter past twelve. They must have been there then for over twenty minutes and would be leaving any moment now.
From Gregory’s glimpse of the lawn through the trees, before he had entered the house, he knew that fifty or sixty men at least were gathered there. He might find Gavin’s plane and get Sabine out of it but someone was almost certain to spot him and the odds were hopelessly against his being able to get her away safely.
He almost wished that he had surrendered to the certainty of Sabine’s arrest, given the police the information which he had beaten out of the Limper, and enabled Wells to concentrate the forces of the law here; but it was too late to think of that now. Standing there, grim-faced and silent, he racked his brain for some refuge to which he might take Sabine if only he could deal with the pilot of Gavin’s plane; but every second was precious and he dared not wait to formulate any complicated plan. Suddenly he turned to Milly.
‘Do you know if there’s a spare key to the Bell tower?’
She nodded towards the sideboard. ‘I think there’s one in the drawer on the left. Aunty keeps all the keys in there.’
Rudd wrenched the drawer open. Gregory shone his torch down into it and Milly snatched up a heavy old-fashioned key from among the rest.
‘This is it.’
‘Right,’ said Gregory. ‘Rudd must come with me; I need him. We don’t want you mixed up in the fighting but are you prepared to act like a little heroine?’
‘I—I’ll try,’ she stammered.
‘Bless you! That’s the spirit! Now this is what I want you to do. As they’ve been signalling from the Bell tower the door of it is probably open already. You know the Park and the path round the back from here, across the drive, up to the tower through the wood. That’s well away from the lawn so it’s unlikely you’ll run into anyone. If you hear any of these people you can hide in the woods till they’ve gone past. I want you to get to the tower, see the door’s open, and put this key into the lock on the inside—on the inside remember. That’s what’s so important. Think you can do it? Gerry’ll be mighty proud of you if you will.’
That reference to Gerry Wells was just the psychological touch needed to give Milly renewed courage.
‘All right,’ she said, throwing up her head.
‘Well done!’ Gregory squeezed her arm. ‘Directly you’ve got that key in the door go in among the trees and hide there until the trouble’s over; get as far from the lawn as you can. Blessings on you my dear.’
The three of them left the house together. Milly to skirt its back and make her way through the dark shrubberies; Gregory and Rudd together past the museum buildings and the conservatories, into the coppice which lay to its right front; at the far end of which, they knew, lay the hangar that housed Lord Gavin’s plane.
For tense moments they stumbled through the undergrowth, not daring to show a light, then they emerged cautiously from behind the hangar into the open. Two hundred yards away, on the far side of the lawn, they could see the dark bulk of the other coppice with the Bell tower rising from it. No lights showed at its steel mast now. Its purpose of guiding the planes in had already been served.
Gregory peered out beyond the angle of the hangar. Bright flares still lit the lawn. The planes reposed before them in an irregular row. One or two men, the pilots probably, stood near each but the majority were gathered in a solid crowd on the gravel sweep before the house. At the open front door Lord Gavin’s small hunched figure, supported by two sticks, was silhouetted against the bright light of the hall. He was evidently giving the foreign agitators, whom he had imported, his last instructions before they dispersed to spread anarchy in the great industrial areas.
His plane was already outside the hangar; its nearest wing-tip no more than a dozen yards from the spot where Gregory crouched. For a second the wild thought entered his head of attempting to make off in it; but the men by the other planes were within such easy range it seemed certain he would be shot down before he could scramble on board and get the machine into the air. Besides, he was not sure yet that Sabine was in the plane. If she were not he would have bungled things for good and all.
He turned to Rudd. ‘Got your pocket knife handy?’ he asked in a quick whisper.
‘Yes sir.’
‘Good. We’ll need it to cut her free if she’s there. Don’t wait to be shot at but shoot first if they try to stop us. Ready now? Come on!’
Going down upon his hands and knees he came out into the open and crept swiftly towards the waiting plane. Now, he blessed the friendly darkness and the clouds that hung, low and threatening, obscuring the stars. The nearest men visible in the flickering light from the flares were a good fifty yards away.
With a last crouching sprint Gregory reached the body of the plane and wrenched open the door. The light on the far side of it came through the windows sufficiently for him to see the interior of the cabin. A long bundle lay in the after part of it behind the two rear seats. It was Sabine, a cloth wound round her face, her arms and ankles lashed with rough cords and a couple of weighty iron bars fastened to her feet; trussed ready for Gavin’s men to heave into the sea once they were well away over the Channel.
Swiftly but cautiously Gregory and Rudd drew her limp body out and laid it on the grass. Rudd’s knife bit into the cords. Gregory unmuffled her face, pressing his hand lightly over her mouth to prevent her screaming before she realised that it was he who was manhandling her.
Another moment and they had her on her feet, limp and half-dazed, supported between them.
‘Think you can run, my sweet?’ Gregory said softly.
She flung one arm round his neck. ‘Mon dieu! those cords, they almost stop my circulation,’ she whispered, ‘wait, I will be better in a minute.’
‘Hang on to her,’ Gregory breathed, removing her arm from his neck and gently passing her to Rudd. Then he went down on his knees again and, creeping forward a little, peered under the nose of the plane. Its pilot, who had been hidden by the bulk of the machine before, was standing within seven yards, his back turned, looking towards the house. A murmur came from the gravel drive and then the sound of crunching feet. Lord Gavin had finished his address to the red servants of evil and the crowd in front of the doorway was breaking up.
There was not an instant to lose. Gregory dived back behind the plane and spoke to Rudd. ‘They’re coming; you’ll have to carry her. Fireman’s lift and gun in your right hand. Too late to make a detour, we’ll have to chance a dash across the open.’
Rudd stooped and threw Sabine across his strong shoulders as though she had been an infant. Without a word he plunged forward straight for the Bell tower. Gregory followed, walking swiftly backwards, ready to fire instantly they were spotted and covering Rudd’s retreat.
Rudd had traversed sixty yards before they were seen; then a cry went up from one of the men by the flares. In a second Gavin’s pilot swung round with a drawn pistol in his hand. He fired from his hip and the bullet sang past Gregory’s head; but Gregory had had him marked already. His pistol cracked, the man’s knees gave under him, and he crashed forward on his face.
Gregory ducked to escape the bullets of the men by the flares. As he did so a series of sharp coughs told him that they were firing at him with pistols which had Mauser silencers attached. Suddenly he sprinted forward, covered fifty yards before he stopped, swung round, and fired again. One of the men by the flares staggered sideways with a scream.
The lawn was full of racing figures now. The scattered group by the house was surging forward in a long irregular wave. Lord Gavin still stood on the doorstep, waving one of his sticks and shouting something which Gregory could not catch. Rudd had already covered two thirds of the way to the Bell tower when Sabine cried: ‘Put me down! I can manage now.’
He slipped her from his shoulders. She stood rocking for a moment then began to stagger forward while he turned and fired at the nearest of the running men. The man ran on, Rudd fired again. The fellow spun round and fell.
Rudd’s intervention gave Gregory another chance. He bounded forward. Both of them fired twice into the mass of shouting figures that were thundering across the grass, then they turned and ran on together.
A bullet ploughed up the ground at Gregory’s feet, another whistled past his ear, a third hit the gun in Rudd’s hand, knocking it out of his grasp.
Gregory halted and emptied the remaining contents of his automatic into the oncoming mob. Rudd lurched forward, grabbed up his pistol, and dashed on again. Next instant he came up with Sabine. She was now no more than twenty yards from the Bell tower.
Jamming his now useless automatic into his pocket Gregory pounded up beside them. Each caught Sabine by an arm and half-carried, half-dragged her towards their goal.
‘Come on! Come on!’ shrilled a treble voice and Milly’s form loomed up by the tower. She was holding the door wide open for them.
‘Good God!’ gasped Gregory as they dashed through the entrance. ‘Why didn’t you hide as I told you to?’
She shook her head. ‘I had to stay and help if I could.’ Then she flung her frail weight against the heavy door and banged it to. Rudd grabbed the key and turned it in the lock.
For a moment they remained there panting in the close musty darkness. Sabine was lying on the ground; Gregory leaning against the wall as he sought to ease the strain of his bursting lungs. He pulled his torch out of his pocket and flashed it on. Rudd and Milly were standing just behind the door.
‘Get back, you fools!’ he shouted. ‘They’ll be shooting through that door!’ Rudd grabbed Milly and thrust her away from it into a safe corner.
Sabine was on her feet again. She snatched Gregory’s torch and turned in on the door; then she sprang forward and shot the bolts at its top and bottom.
‘That’s better!’ her voice came huskily. ‘They could have blown in that lock.’ As she spoke a bullet crashed through the door splintering its woodwork.
A thunderous beating came upon the door. Shots thudded into its stout oak panelling; one clanged upon the metal lock. Gregory remained leaning against the wall. He only shrugged now at this fresh clamour and smiled in the darkness.
‘Don’t get scared any of you. That door’s old and solid. It’d take them an hour to break it in and they can’t spare the time. They know every policeman in Kent is on the lookout for them and that they’ll be caught if they don’t get away from here before one o’clock. It’s five to now.’
Sabine stretched out a hand and grasped his quickly. ‘Mais non,’ she cried. ‘Gavin believes all the police are concentrated miles away on Sheppey Island. He’s killed the men who were set to keep a look out here. There is no one to give a warning of what they do and the village is too far for anyone there to hear the shooting. Gavin will send for saws and cut the bolts out of their sockets; or get a battering ram for all that mob to break down the door. He thinks he is safe here for an hour—two hours yet. If help doesn’t arrive soon—nous sommes tous morte.’
While the battering outside continued Rudd was flashing his torch round the lofty chamber. From holes in its wooden ceiling ten ropes dangled; the last few feet of each covered with a thick wool grip. They looked like a group of inverted bulrushes.
‘All right,’ said Gregory with sudden decision. ‘If we’ve got to summon help after all we’ll use the bells.’ He sprang forward and caught at one of the ropes bearing down his full weight upon it. A loud clang sounded high up in the tower.
Rudd seized another rope and Milly a third. The noise outside the door was drowned in a horrible cacophony of vibrating sound. Without rhythm or music the great bells above their heads pealed out in horrid irregular clamour—clash—boom—dong—bing—which seemed to shake the very ground on which the bellringers stood.
Sabine ran to Gregory and shouted in his ear: ‘The lights on the steel mast! The controls are in the next room. I will make signals with them.’ She dashed away and a moment later was tapping at the instrument—SOS—SOS—SOS.
Rudd now had a bell rope in each hand and was swaying from side to side as he pulled them alternately with all his vigour. Gregory tugged at first one, then another until the whole peal of ten bells was in motion; thundering out a vast and hideous discord which could be heard over half Thanet.
After a couple of minutes Gregory left Rudd and Milly to keep the din going, rushed up the narrow winding stairs in a corner of the chamber until he reached a long slit window cut in the thick stone wall, and peered out.
From it he saw that the attempt to force the door had been abandoned. Gavin Fortescue was standing near the flares; waving his sticks and evidently ordering the pilots to their various planes. As Gregory watched, a new commotion started. A car roared up the driveway and halted in front of the house. Dark figures sprang out of it. Another car and then another came in sight.
The bells were so deafening that he could not hear the coughing of the silenced automatics, but stabs of flame, piercing the darkness near the museum building, told him that a battle was in progress between the reds and the constantly arriving squads of police.
He glanced at his wrist watch and saw that it was one o’clock. The bells could not have been pealing for more than five minutes. How could the police have got here so quickly, he wondered, but he did not pause to think of possible explanations. Instead, he leapt down the narrow stairs, yelling for Sabine, and waving his arms to stop Rudd and Milly tugging at the bell-ropes.
As they ceased their pulling he shouted: ‘The police are here! Quick! Open that door, Rudd. I’ve got to get Sabine away. We’ll use Lord Gavin’s plane while they’re fighting it out together.’
Rudd wrenched back the bolts. Milly unlocked the door and tugged it open. All four of them ran out into the half-light which came from the flares.
The bells were still clanging faintly behind them, but now they could hear the sound of shots as the waves of police, descending from fresh cars and lorries which were arriving by both drives every moment, dashed into the fray a hundred yards away. Lord Gavin had disappeared. The backs of his men were now towards the tower.
As Gregory and the rest burst out of its entrance there was a crashing in the undergrowth behind them. A body of police who had been sent to take the conspirators in the rear were just emerging from the coppice.
Someone called upon Gregory’s party to halt, but he took no notice, urging Sabine on beside him. They raced across the open lawn towards the hangar, but, as they reached it, another phalanx: of police emerged from the opposite coppice and Marrowfat’s voice boomed out into the semi-darkness. ‘Halt there you, or I fire.’
They were caught between two forces; as the police who had emerged from the Bell tower coppice were hurrying up in their rear. Another moment and they were surrounded.
With a sinking heart Gregory realised that the game was up.
Beside Marrowfat loomed the tall figure of Sir Pellinore, the bulky form of the Chief Constable, and the tall but slighter Gerry Wells.
As Gregory halted he gulped in a quick breath, and then stared at the Inspector. ‘How did you manage to turn up here so quickly?’
Gerry Wells grinned. ‘When you tipped me off about Bell being the word instead of Mermaid I tumbled to it at once that meant the Bell tower at Quex Park. It took me five minutes to phone Canterbury, so the Superintendent could concentrate the others when he go there, and you’d obviously sneaked your car round near Hook Quay. You had the heels of me but I didn’t lose much time, once I got started, and the others seemed to have arrived here altogether.’
Milly stepped forward and touched his arm. ‘It’s been terrible,’ she murmured. ‘But I feel safe, now at last—because you’re here.’
Most unprofessionally he put his arm round her slim waist. Marrowfat stepped quickly up to Sabine.
‘Mademoiselle Szenty,’ he said gruffly, ‘this is an unpleasant duty but I have no option. I arrest you as a confederate of Lord Gavin Fortescue upon the charge of having been an accessory to an attempted murder.’
‘But you can’t,’ cried Gregory. ‘It was she who saved our lives by warning Sir Pellinore that our murder was to be attempted.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Marrowfat shrugged his vast shoulders. ‘Of that charge, of course, the lady will doubtless be able to clear herself; but there are others. Three of our men were done to death here in the Park tonight. Whether she had any hand in that I don’t know but, in any case, she is heavily implicated in the importation of contraband. Suitable charges will be presented in due course. I proposed to hold her on this one for the moment.’
The scene was quieter now. Three hundred police had rounded up Lord Gavin’s agitators and saboteurs. Not a single plane had got away. The wounded were being carried to ambulances that had arrived on the heels of the police from Birchington, Westgate, Margate and Herne Bay. A score of Inspectors were questioning the captives and taking down material for charges in their note-books. Sir Pellinore, the Superintendent, Wells, the Chief Constable, Gregory, Rudd and the two girls stood apart, a hundred yards from the shifting crowd on the far side of Lord Gavin’s plane.
Suddenly there was a movement in the undergrowth near by. A flash of light streaked past Rudd’s face. Milly screamed as a knife caught her in the shoulder.
Gregory guessed the thrower instantly. It was Corot, whose fanatical blood lust had tempted him into this last bid for vengeance; the knife had probably been intended for Wells. Milly collapsed against the Inspector, sobbing, as he swiftly drew out the knife and dabbed at the wound. His eyes blazed with a murderous desire to get to grips with the apache but, supporting Milly as he was, he could do nothing.
It was the Chief Constable who, nearer to the coppice than any of the others, dashed into the undergrowth swinging his heavy stick high above his head. He had caught sight of Corot’s white face, gleaming there, within a second of the knife being thrown. His stick descended; catching the murderous Frenchman a terrible blow right across the eyes. Corot went down moaning among the bushes. Sir Pellinore and Marrowfat had already started forward to the Chief Constable’s assistance.
Gregory’s distress that poor little Milly should have been wounded was almost instantly displaced by the wild thought that the ensuing commotion had given him one more chance.
Sabine was standing close beside him. ‘Get into the plane,’ he muttered swiftly.
Without a second’s hesitation she turned, tore over to it, and threw herself in. Hard on her heels he scrambled up beside her. Rudd sprang to the door of the cabin and slammed it after them as Gregory pressed the self-starter.
Wells was facing in their direction but he was supporting Milly. He was quick enough to see that he had the one perfect excuse for not attempting to interfere.
The Superintendent realised what had happened only a moment later and swerved out of his heavy trot, towards the bushes, in the direction of the plane; but Sir Pellinore grasped the situation at the same instant.
He seized the Superintendent by the lapel of his coat. ‘A great day sir,’ he said swiftly. ‘I must congratulate you.’
‘Dammit, let me go,’ boomed Marrowfat, but his voice was drowned in the roar of the aeroplane engine.
‘You must lunch with me,’ shouted Sir Pellinore above the din. ‘I’ll have the Home Secretary to meet you.’
Marrowfat thrust his great hands forward and tried to push Sir Pellinore off, but the older man showed unexpected toughness.
‘Must tell the Monarch,’ he bawled, his mouth glued almost to the Superintendent’s ear, ‘His Majesty will probably honour you with some decoration.’
‘Let me go, sir,’ burst out Marrowfat his face gone purple ‘Let me go or I’ll arrest you for interfering with the police in the execution of their duties.’
‘What’s that! I didn’t hear,’ Sir Pellinore yelled back, The plane ran forward; a hundred faces turned towards it but no one was foolhardy enough to try and stop its progress. It turned into the wind, rose, bounced once, then sailed close over the heads of the police and their prisoners.
‘Next week,’ Sir Pellinore shouted a little less loudly; as he clung still to the frantic Superintendent. ‘I’ll let you know what day the Home Secretary can lunch with us. You must bring Wells; splendid feller, Wells. Sallust shall join us too —if he’s in England.’
Rudd was grinning from ear to ear as he waved after the departing plane. It lifted above the house-top missing its chimneys by no more than a dozen feet. A mile of land spread below it and then the sea. Gregory placed his hand on Sabine’s.
‘Where do we go from here?’ he asked, ‘You can bet the plane’s fuelled to capacity.’
‘I don’t mind,’ she whispered, letting her head fall on his shoulder. ‘This last week we’ve been drawn into a strange and terrible adventure, but now, thank God, it’s over.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ he laughed, as the plane zoomed away over the water. ‘Our real adventure has only just begun.’